Chapter Text
Chapter 20: Harry James Potter
Harry James Potter was born on July 31st, 1980.
They were so close.
They’d heard the Longbottom’s boy was born the day prior and that wasn’t taken lightly.
When Lily hadn’t given birth yet, those closest to them started to get optimistic - quietly, but there were certainly whispers. There was this glimmer of hope that their baby wasn’t coming in July. That the baby born at the end of the seventh month had already been born.
Knowing the significance of the date, Sirius and Isabella arrived to the Potters new cottage in Godric’s Hollow bright and early on the 31st. By mid-morning, Peter and, to their surprise and joy, Remus arrived as well. By noon, Marlene McKinnon arrived with lunch and Lily still hadn’t gone into labor. The whispers were turning to cautious excitement. It was a strange feeling, rooting for a baby not to come on time. By dinnertime, the groups optimism soared – even if she went into labor, an August 1st birthday was now feasibly on the table. There was a nervous excitement in the air; in just a few short hours, they would fall out of the criteria of the prophecy.
And then Lily’s water broke just after sunset.
There was an eeriness to the near empty St. Mungos, but it was a necessity given the circumstances. Sirius, who had flanked the group as they walked in, subtly pulled aside the Head of the Department and asked that anyone else who came in that night be redirected to another floor. Isabella had never known him to exert his influence in that capacity, but he did so guiltlessly. This was a moment to use everything in their arsenal.
Isabella sat between Sirius and Peter in the waiting room, Marlene and Remus across from them. The only sound in the room was that of an ugly old clock ticking, hung high on the wall. It was positioned just above the doorway to the maternity ward. And though each one of them feigned interest in the door their friends had cleared moments earlier, the truth was every one of them was watching the clock. Time seemed to have slowed down.
Almost as suddenly as he had left, James burst through the very same door and every eye in the waiting room turned to him.
And then up to the clock that so clearly showed them it was not yet the next day.
“It’s a boy!” he announced, slightly out of breath.
He was grinning, but also trembling, hand gripping the door frame.
“Harry James Potter.”
It felt like something inside Isabella broke. It was a sort of helpless pain that she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before and hoped she would never feel again. She had always separated pain into the kind that made her cry and the kind that made her cruel, but rarely had she experienced the kind that made her crumble. It was unforgivable how unprepared she was. Her emotions crashed over her, crushing and compressing her to the point that she found it nearly impossible to breath.
The only thing stopping her from collapsing was Sirius. He squeezed her hand tightly, wordlessly letting her know that he was there and that he felt it all too. But it also reminded her that it was not the time to react. Not in front of James.
The next few minutes were a blur, but it seemed everyone managed to pulled themselves together quickly enough celebrate.
“The new Potter heir,” James said, staring down at the bundle in Lily’s arms.
Isabella took a quick glance around the room, but she seemed to be the only one surprised by that proclamation.
Harry was far and above the cutest baby they had ever seen. He was born with this jet-black spikey hair that James kept affectionally referring to as ‘windswept’, and he had clearly taken after his mother with his big, bright green eyes. He was so small with a little scrunched up face; they could hardly believe he was real. How anyone, anyone, could see this little tiny thing as a threat was beyond them.
It hurt to even think about.
The atmosphere in the hospital room was emotional – a rather even split between joyous and sorrow. Though there was nothing but smiles and excitement in front of the new parents, everyone took a private moment away from the rest of the group to grieve. They could hear it in each one of their voices the moment they cracked, words left suspended in a pregnant pause, unable to finish without exposing themselves too much.
There were whispered talks of fudging the date, postponing the announcement; Peter even suggested taking the birth records all together.
But still, they smiled.
The Potters took the opportunity to ask Sirius and Isabella to be the Godparents, an honor that almost brought both of them to tears. Though Sirius didn’t acknowledge it, Isabella could’ve sworn there was a strange look in James’ eyes as he asked them, almost as though he wanted them to understand the severity of the request. It reminded Isabella a bit of the paperwork Sirius had signed a few weeks earlier at James’ behest. Just a precaution, Sirius explained. Both could agree that it was James getting his affairs in order before the baby arrived, but Isabella got the sense they both meant it differently.
Had she not already been suspicious of James’ behavior, she almost certainly wouldn’t have been fixating on the fact that he’d referred to Harry as the ‘Potter heir.’ Such a label was in her vernacular, Sirius’ too, but it was not a casual comment from James Potter. A Light wizard’s first thought after having a child, particularly a Light wizard married to a muggle-born, was not about securing the legacy of their House.
Isabella tuned back to the conversation at hand - a playful debate over what baby Harry ought to call them. She laughed along at proposals like ‘Uncle Padfoot the Great’ or ‘Padfoot the Great’ – “for short!” – that were quickly shut down. They didn’t even bother trying to get a nickname for Isabella - not the time for that conversation. As Sirius and James joked back and forth about more appropriate names, there was a real lightness in the air that they hadn’t felt since James fetched them from the waiting room.
Isabella tried to embrace it; ignore the sinking feeling that they were missing something rather significant.
But the feeling persisted.
Peter, Remus, and Marlene had taken their leave and Lily and the baby looked like they were getting ready to dose off when Isabella caught James’ eye and her heart dropped. She knew that look.
He asked to speak to the couple in the hallway.
There was a tightness in her throat as she walked out after him.
The hallways the hospital employed a sort of super-charged bioluminescent system that gave the appearance of florescent lights, except for its uneven and varying distribution of light and faint discolored glow. The sterile hallway appeared to stretch on indefinitely and there were odd sounds echoing through the floor and ceiling, not uncommon in a hospital for magical maladies and injuries, but still setting them on edge.
James’ expression as he closed the door did nothing to ease her concern. There ought to be no one wandering by to overhear, but James still cast a muffliato dropped his voice as he spoke.
“You need to destroy the ring.” His tone was serious and unemotive. “I – I know what I’m asking - ”
Just a precaution. The words echoed in her mind.
“Prongs, what?” Sirius interrupted. “No. How can you – where’s this coming from?!”
“I know what happened tonight – and we appreciate you all putting on a strong face, but we were watching clock in there as well. He was coming no matter what, there was nothing that could be done. And the son of two Order members was born…” James’ voice caught. He gritted his teeth as he took a deep breath. “I want it done. I know what I’m asking and what I’m risking - ”
“So you’ve interpreted it? Are you sure?”
“I think I have a better understanding.”
Sirius objected, “Better’s not good; better’s still a risk. Do you or do you not understand what’s going to happen if we destroy the ring?”
“I think intent matters, but I don’t know, that’s the truth. There are a lot of ways to interpret… it. I don’t know the risk. But if it’s a choice between his life and mine, then that’s not a choice at all. I refuse to be an obstacle in Voldemort’s demise, particularly at my own son’s risk. No.”
“Then we’ll collect -”
James shook his head. “No, you can’t. It’s an astronomical risk to have one under your roof. Three more? No. Unless you have a bona fide destruction method, you’d be a fool to go after more.”
“We could destroy the others,” Sirius tried again, “it’s just the ring…”
“And then, eventually, you’ll have to destroy the ring. Have you found anything, at all, that gives you hope that there’s another option? Another method? I haven’t.”
Sirius fell silent and Isabella had nothing to add.
“It can happen now or it can happen in 6 months,” James said.
“Then give it 6 more months, why -”
“Because I am NOT going to look at my son every day knowing that I haven’t done EVERYTHING in my power to protect him. Do you understand me? Everything’s in place if it doesn’t… if it doesn’t work out in my favor. I know you’ll be there for them; I know you.”
Sirius glanced over towards Isabella, hoping for an objection, but she couldn’t disguise the fact that James words, as frustrating and demoralizing as they were, only confirmed what she’d begun to suspect.
“I don’t know that you can ask this of us,” Sirius tried, “Prongs, I -”
“This isn’t a negotiation. I’m not asking you; I’m telling you,” James interrupted, his voice unwavering. “The risk doesn’t matter. Not to me, not anymore.”
He smiled but there was a look of profound sadness in his eyes. “I got to meet my son. So for Harry, please. Please do this for Harry.”
And with that, James turned around and went back into the room, leaving the Blacks standing alone under the flickering lights of the desolate hallway.
He hadn’t said goodbye. It was a small thing to cling to, but it was all they had. If he genuinely believed that destroying the ring would prove fatal, he would’ve said goodbye, they were certain.
They walked quickly and silently through the corridor, out of the maternity ward, and back to the apparition point. Isabella would’ve said she was desperate to get out of the hospital’s claustrophobic halls, but moments later, standing in the living room of their estate, it seemed as though the wall were closing in no matter where she stood. The gold box sat in front of them on the coffee table like a corpse – they didn’t want to look at it, but they couldn’t look away.
“He said he’d wait until the baby’s born – the day he told us about the prophecy? He said ‘after the baby’s born; whenever the baby’s born.’ I thought he meant… it’s how you knew this was coming, right?”
“I didn’t even realize,” Isabella said softly. “It was just today - he called Harry the ‘Potter heir’. That’s not… between the Power of Attorney and the Godparents, he just seemed to be preparing.”
“How long do you think he’s been planning this? He checked every fucking box, didn’t he?” he kicked the coffee table.
Sirius wore an almost inscrutable expression; a rather even keel of determination and antagonism. But he didn’t have anything else to say. Had it been anyone else, they would be deep in a conversation about the nature of the request; the ethicality of the request. But it was James.
“What about the Isle of Wight?” Sirius posed suddenly, staring straight ahead.
“Are you… do we need to discuss this?”
“No,” he said brusquely. “Isle of Wight? How many people could possibly live there?”
“Like a 100,000, that’s a horrible option. What about somewhere in the Isles of Scilly? St. Helens? Is that the old quarantine island?”
“The spattergroit one? I think so. There’s gotta be 50 uninhabited islands in the archipelago, if not that one then we can bounce around.”
There a silent moment where they continued to stare at the daunting object in front of them.
“We’re not going to make a mistake,” Isabella said, trying to ease the palpable tension. “Going somewhere, I mean, this is just a precaution. We know what we’re doing.”
“Do we?”
Isabella shrugged. “We’re sure we don’t want to wait till morning? It’s gonna be pitch-black.”
“We’ll manage. I want this done. I don’t want this hanging over his head.”
There was a strain in his voice that made Isabella question how sincerely he meant what he was saying. But if this was something that needed to be done, she wasn’t going to be the person to stop it. Without allowing herself to hesitate, she grabbed the box and apparated on the spot; Sirius followed with only a second delay.
St. Helens was only illuminated by the stars and the moon, still large in the sky following the full moon less than a week prior. There was a lighthouse on the island just across the water, whose light created an almost disorienting strobe effect, making it nearly impossible for their eyes to adjust to the dark. Sirius cast a lumos maxima to help minimize the impact from the lighthouse and guide their steps across the rocky shore terrain as they made their way to the other side of the island. While the orb may not catch the lightkeepers attention, Fiendfyre just might. The sea breeze was strong, and the gusts of wind misted them, leaving them feeling salty and chilled, even on the hot summer night. Most of the island was covered in tall grass, with the occasional taller plant life, nothing substantial, and they made out the outline of the old spattergroit house through the dark.
They were nearly silent as they walked, concentrating on their steps and the task at hand. Sirius knew more about oaths than she did, more about the kind of magic involved in assuming the Head of a House, and she would defer to him. Because Isabella knew all she needed to; she knew her husband’s relationship with his oldest friend. If Sirius really believed this was going to kill James Potter, he’d put a stop to it. She knew it with certainty.
It was the only thing that kept her moving forward.
Once they were sufficiently blocked by the island, she set the box down on a large bolder and moved back about 20 or so paces; enough space that they felt safer, but still a controllable distance.
“Isabella – I’m sorry,” Sirius’ voice broke the silence, “you’re gonna have to do this. I can’t – I won’t be able to concentrate - not with James…”
His voice cut out. The sudden display of emotion was exactly what she hadn’t wanted from him, but it was entirely unfair to ask him to be her rock at a time like this.
He looked apologetic, but he didn’t need to. She had intended to be the castor anyway; controlled rage played to her strengths more than his. And with the risk to James, she wouldn’t have asked him to even try.
She took a deep breath. There would be no practice round, no attempt number two, either she would cut it correctly or there would be nothing remaining of St. Helens by the time the sun rose on August 1st. She had read up on the curse as much as possible; she knew the incantations and correct wand motions, and she expected it to yank her and feel like it was fighting her – she couldn’t let that take her by surprise. She raised her wand.
“Pestis Incendium!”
The flames jumped from her wand like a stampede. She concentrated on pouring her rage through it – the threat to Harry, the overheard prophecy, the cruelty of the Dark Lord, the bedrooms at the orphanage – she poured it all into the spell. The flames start to take shapes but she need more to feed them. She gave it more personal rage – Alice Longbottom’s awful comments, the unknowns around her brother, the fact that her closest friend felt the need for veritaserum – she felt the kickback she expected as the undefined shapes merged together into a giant striking serpent. The mouth of the serpent engulfed the gold box and the rock, diving into the earth. There was clearest sound of a scream and dark smoke swirled with the soaring flames. Something was happening, she held fast. The scream peaked as the blinding flames exploded outwards creating a giant Runespoor whose three heads were turned towards her.
“Occidio Pestis!” She screamed, snuffing the Fiendfyre in one fell swoop. All went dark. She gasped for air as she felt her legs give out from under her, falling into Sirius. Her heart was beating fast but exhaustion was taking over. Her vision tunneled and her hearing cut in and out. She could tell Sirius was trying to see if she was alright, arms wrapped tight around her to support her weight, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on his face.
“Check - check the rock,” she gasped through labored breath. “I’ll sit – I’m fine. Check the box.”
“Isabella, there’s nothing left. Nothing. The box is gone, the ring along with it. It’s gone.” Sirius tried to pull her attention as her head because impossibly heavy. “Isabella – look at me, the ring is gone. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said in what she hoped sounded passably casual, “we need to get back to the hospital.”
The words spilled out of her, not because she had any ability to execute on her suggestion, but because she knew they were the right thing to say. It was what Sirius needed her to say.
Sirius froze for a moment.
“But can you stand on your own?”
She nodded, just to discover that wasn’t the case at all. She couldn’t even look up from his chest.
“That’s fine,” he said slowly, weighing two rather poor options. “I’ll – I’ll apparate us. You ready?”
She was, barely. In the least comfortable apparation she had done in several years, they found themselves back at St. Mungo’s apparation point. The healers rushed forwards at their appearance, assuming Isabella was being brought to the hospital.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, eyes barely opening. She was finally standing, though rather uneasy on her feet.
One of the healers attempted to argue, “I’m sorry, you both smell like fire and she looks magically exhausted…”
“No, please, I’m okay.”
“Isabella, why don’t you - ” Sirius began before Isabella’s grip on his arm tightened considerably.
“No, I’m just tired, Sirius,” she said pointedly. “I’d hate to have to explain that to a Healer!”
He seemed to understand her meaning, wrapping his arm around her waist to prop her up as they took a few steps away from the crowd.
“Are you sure?” he whispered in her ear, pulling her closer as though he was tucking her under his wing. She felt a flutter in her chest; she wasn’t usually the type to need taking care of.
“What - that I bothered the elves in the kitchen and caused a fire that left me magically exhausted?” she focused in on his face. “From us? No.”
“Then let’s go,” he quickened his step, not quite carrying, but certainly more than supporting Isabella as he sped back towards the maternity ward.
“The floor’s closed!” one of the attendings called out from behind him. “I’d be happy to just take a quick look at her!”
Sirius glanced over his shoulder, his piercing grey eyes telling them all they needed to.
“We’re just here to see a friend,” he shouted back, “she’s just tired.”
It was a weak and suspicious excuse, but both of them were too desperate to move to concoct a better lie and slow them down.
They crashed into the maternity ward and threw open the door to Lily’s hospital room. Lily was asleep in the bed, and there was James, baby in his arms, seemingly asleep in the chair.
James' eyes blinked open.
“What are you - ?”
“OH THANK MERLIN!” Sirius shouted, waking the baby and Lily up in the process. Tension visibly lifted from his shoulders as he signed with relief.
With the adrenaline gone, Isabella slide down to the floor against the wall.
“Did you - ?”
“It’s gone.” Sirius grinned.
“And I’m alive?!”
“It sure seems like it!”
Lily, obviously exhausted herself managed only to raise her head for a moment, scan James up and down, before her head fell back in her pillow
“Oh thank God,” she managed to mutter before she her eyes fluttered shut.
“Do you feel sick at all?” Sirius asked, moving in closer.
“No, it -”
“Coughing? Headache?”
“No, really -”
“Fever? Aches? Cramps?”
“Seriously, Padfoot - ”
“Cuts? Bruises?”
“Take the victory!”
“Brilliant!” Sirius’ pivoted almost instantly, “I need to get Isabella help.”
“No,” Isabella looked up from the ground, “you can’t.”
“Look at you!”
“You can’t check me in. What I did was illegal – just let me lie here on the floor for a little, I’ll be fine.”
“Oh Merlin,” James interrupted, “no, please at least have the chair, I’ll put Harry in the cradle.”
With significant help from Sirius, Isabella made it over to the chair, which she could concede was a step up from the ground. She would’ve said so, but she was too exhausted to find the right words. Her eyes began to flutter closed as James and Sirius stared at Harry in the cradle.
“You know I thought…” James’ voice was trembling. He spoke quietly, as though he didn’t want to wake the rest of the room. “When you left, I asked Lily if it would be alright for me to hold him instead of him sleeping in the cradle. He just melted into my arms. And I just stared at him, playing with his little fingers…” James sniffled. “And he slept so peacefully. And I felt myself drifting off, I knew I ought to put him back in the cradle, but he was so warm. And I just – I remember the moment when my eyelids were heavy and I knew I wasn’t keeping them open any longer. And the last thing I saw was my son, asleep in my arms. And in that moment, I thought if it was my last, it was a good one…
“Sirius, I was prepared to die tonight.”
Silence seemed to consume the room before her husband softly responded. “I know.”
“Thank you,” James sniffled. “For doing it anyway.”
“I didn’t. I don’t know that I could’ve. I’d risk my own life for Harry, for you, for every person in this room, but risking your life? That’s different.”
There was a shared silent understanding.
“Padfoot, it’s much easier to risk your own life than watch someone else risk theirs…” James began cautiously.
“Then don’t make me do it again.”
“That’s not…" James took a deep breath, "it’s gonna be a long war.”
“Fine – then next time I need more than a hunch. I’m gonna need a concrete plan. No – I need a fucking concrete plan in writing.”