Chapter Text
James can almost forget that there’s a war raging on beyond the castle walls when he’s with Lily.
There’s a permeating sense of unease and tension among the student body that’s hard to escape, even when students manage to distract themselves from the reality that they’re currently living in. People are scared for their families or already grieving them. Life at Hogwarts certainly wasn’t what it was when James was a first year.
But James, Lily, and their friends have carved out their own spaces for when they need to escape - escape from the silent stand-offs between themselves and the blood purists within the student body, the fights that break out when the tension inevitably breaks by a pointed comment, and the cries of grieving students. One such space is an abandoned classroom that James and Lily had found for themselves, because sometimes even James needs time away from his friends.
With Lily’s runework, the door to the abandoned classroom is hidden from passerbys, and an extra ward makes it so sound can’t get in, or out. The dusty tables and chairs have been charmed clean and transfigured into pillows and blankets by James, and they both take the time to conjure candlelight. It’s their own little bubble, just for them.
They’re in their classroom one afternoon, and soon Lily will have to leave for her NEWT Arithmancy class. James, having nothing pressing to finish, has opted to lay down and use Lily’s thigh as a pillow, savoring the easy silence that’s only broken by the turning pages of Lily’s Charms textbook as it floats in the air and the scritch-scratch of her quill as it takes her notes.
“Lily, I need to tell you something - a family secret.” James says, blurting the words out before his Gryffindor courage can leave him.
The scratch of Lily’s quill stops.
The easy silence from before is shaken by his own nerves, and James huffs out a frustrated breath. He trusts Lily. He can’t imagine his girlfriend would react poorly to what he’s going to tell her, but - but he’s been keeping this secret his entire life up until now. As proud as he is, the stories he’s been told…
He loves Lily, though, and putting this conversation off might just be his undoing later.
The textbook floating above him drifts through the air, light as a feather, and it softly closes as it lands neatly next to Lily’s bag. Next thing he knows, Lily’s hand buries itself into his unruly curls, and Lily runs her nails gently across his scalp. “This wouldn’t happen to be about the thing that’s been bothering you these last few weeks, would it?” Lily murmurs knowingly.
James huffs again, this time in self-deprecating humour, and curses his transparency not for the first time. “Yeah, it is. I - I love you, Lily, and I know you feel the same about me, but what I’m about to tell you just might be too much for you to reconcile. I’m not who you might think I am-”
“Jamie.” Lily says.
“I need you to swear to me that you won’t tell anyone about this, Lily. Even if this is a deal-breaker, or even if you hate me after. This getting out could put my parents in danger, too.” James forces himself to say, and the possibility of this being his last civil conversation with Lily makes his chest ache . He bites his lip, unable to look at her.
Lily audibly sighs. Her shadow in the sunlight shifts on the opposite wall, and James realizes, suddenly, that the young woman has lifted her wand. “I, Lily Juniper Evans-”
James sits up hastily, turning around, “Wait, Lily, I didn’t mean magically swear -”
“I, Lily Juniper Evans ,” The woman says firmly, “swear on my magic that I shall not part with secrets bestowed upon me by James Fleamont Potter in confidence, and only shall speak of his secrets with those entrusted with these same secrets. I wish it, so mote it be.”
The end of her wand lights up, a golden light shimmering before fading away.
“Do you have any idea-”
“Of course I do.” Lily says. “You know me, James. When have I ever done something without researching it first?”
Never. “I would have trusted your word, and your word alone, Lily.” James argues uselessly.
“But you feel safer now, don’t you?”
James can only stare disbelievingly at her, and Lily meets his gaze with her characteristic easy, rational acceptance. The sunlight frames her red hair in a way that makes her look like his own personal, blazing star.
His father will kill him if he ever finds out about this, but that doesn’t stop James from drawing his own wand from his holster with a practiced flick of his wrist. Lily’s green eyes shine, and her lips curl up in the barest hint of a pleased smile.
“I, James Fleamont Potter, swear on my magic that I shall not part with secrets bestowed upon me by Lily Juniper Evans in confidence, and only shall speak of her secrets with those entrusted with these same secrets. I wish it, so mote it be.” He echoes breathlessly, and that same light glows and fades away.
“James.” Lily says after moments of silence, “What were you going to tell me?”
“Oh, right.” He stutters. Hurriedly, he turns around fully, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. But, Godric that’s uncomfortable, and James untucks his left leg and brings it upright, his foot flat on the charmed floor. He releases the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
“Have you ever heard of The Tale of the Three Brothers ?” He asks, and Lily nods.
“Marlene gifted me a book with Wizarding children's stories our first year. She said that muggle-borns deserve to know the same legends and stories purebloods do.”
“You do - it's your culture, your community, as much as it is mine.” James says. With every word, speaking grows both easier and harder. “Well, the three brothers were named Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus Peverell. The Peverell were a very dark, very powerful family with a bloodline gift of necromancy - though originally they were called Morthemagi.”
Lily's brows furrow adorably in confusion. “I have several questions already.”
“I don't doubt that. Just - just wait.” He says, holding up a hand, and he stops meeting her eyes. “A lot of the story is mere fiction at this point, but not all of it. The true story, really, is that the Peverell brothers were raised to respect and accept Death. Death is not an enemy to be conquered, nor is he something to fear. Their ancestors were favored by Death, and he gifted the first Peverell necromantic abilities as a boon.
“However, the eldest two brothers turned their back on the teachings of their family - their history. Antioch sought to gain power so he could evade Death by defeating his enemies, and Cadmus grew resentful of Death after the deity reaped his wife's soul. They both used their gifts to spite Death, and when Ignotus refused to abandon his responsibilities as one of Death's Chosen, they grew resentful of him as well.
“Death, knowing this, gifted Ignotus his Cloak of Invisibility as protection. His Chosen accepted him as inevitable, but Death was not ready to collect him so soon. With him safe, Death confronted Cadmus and gave him the Resurrection Stone - cursing him to an existence in which he was never able to move on and live due to his grief. His life was reduced to mere survival - a life not worth living. Death then gave Antioch the power he wanted in the form of the Elder Wand, knowing his hubris would be his undoing.” James continues.
The Legend, while fictional, is still steeped in truth. The brothers cheat Death by scorning him in spite of his gifts, and he gives them the Hallows and reaps them one-by-one. Ignotus dies as the only brother still in Death's favor, peacefully.
James closes his eyes, soaking in the weight of Lily's gaze. “Fast forward a few centuries, and Ignotus’ descendents are being vilified for their connection with Death. His line had grown vast - generation after generation bearing more and more children - but those afraid of their dark gift begin to take the lives of any necromancer known to them. Under orders from his Head of House, Heir Justus Peverell takes the Invisibility Cloak and flees as the daughters are forcibly married off to Light families with their abilities bound for their protection.
“Justus sheds his name. Latin names were traditional for the Peverell family, so he trades his given name for Joseph. Choosing a new surname, he knew choosing a muggle name would be the fastest way to be overlooked. Especially when he adopts the surname Potter, a very, very common name. Joseph Potter is therefore born, and… and so is the Potter Wizarding Family.”
James swallows. There, he said it. He told her. And his family’s secrets will continue to be safe.
But what will Lily think of him now?
“Are you telling me that you’re a necromancer?” Lily asks, and her lilting tone makes him look up again. Her gaze is dark and piercing, now, and James shivers underneath it.
Taking a fortifying breath, he brings up his hand to his eyes and murmurs an incantation that removes the glamor on his face. James’ eyes flutter open as he moves his hand away again, and he knows Lily sees his blood-red eyes when he hears her suck a thin breath between her teeth.
As if he’s a cornered animal, Lily slowly leans forward to indicate that she’s going to come closer. When he nods, she crawls over and kneels, gently cradling his face. “...Well, now I finally understand why you get angry with Sirius when he equates dark magic with evil incarnate.” She says conversationally, and laughter punches out of his chest.
“Padfoot would crucify me if he knew - it doesn't matter that proper necromancy has nothing to do with inferi or desecrating graves.” James smiles ruefully.
It hurts to say, but the reality is that even Dumbledore himself would look at James differently if his gift was common knowledge. Merlin, he would've been thrown into Azkaban by now, especially since You-Know-Who has red eyes himself, proving that he's performed perverted necromantic magic. Instead of James’ vibrant blood red shade, the Dark Lord possesses dull eyes so dark they could be mistaken as black.
Lily doesn’t reply or say anything immediately, staring intensely into his uncovered eyes as if to memorize every red shade within his irises. “Will you tell me about it? Can you show me?” Lily asks softly, and her fingers flex around his face as if miming note-taking. “Will you teach me about Death and your family's traditions? I want - I want to learn, Jamie.”
“Of course, but - It doesn't freak you out?” James can't help but to ask.
“Do I look unsettled to you?”
“Not even a little.” James says, and he can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of his chest.
---
Naturally, with the revelation comes Lily’s unfettered curiosity and a motivation to learn what she can. She's been waiting impatiently to drag James away from his friends to get away from prying eyes and listening ears, but it's not like he minds. In fact, it'll be freeing, getting a chance to share and teach someone the way his father taught Mum and eventually James himself.
In the Gryffindor common room, James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter are playing Exploding Snap when Lily whispers in his ear, and just like that, he abandons the game and stands.
“James, you dog!” Sirius croons, and Lily’s smile grows teasing as she grabs James’ hand.
“The only dog here is you, you mangy mutt.” She says, full of double-meaning, and their audience crow and laugh as Sirius sputters unattractively.
“You guys better go before he recovers.” Remus jokes.
“You'd think he'd know better by now.” Peter says in agreement, nodding.
Lily giggles, a twinkling sound that makes James’ smile widen and eyes grow soppy with affection. The Marauders call it his ‘Lily-Look’, and the young woman has yet to find out. James can imagine, quite easily, how she'd laugh shyly yet teasingly - a new sound James still loves to hear - and call him hopeless for the nth time.
James and Lily leave the common room and head down the corridor as Sirius starts ranting about being the perfect gentleman, and James laughs as the portrait shuts behind them.
“Simp!” The dog animagus shouts through it, though James easily pretends he doesn't hear.
“Your friends are ridiculous.” Lily says. Again.
“You love them.”
“I’d make due without them.” She lies, and she pointedly refuses to look at James’ knowing smile.
They walk hand-in-hand as they reach their classroom, stopped only by housemates coming from the library when they decide to say hi. Lily expertly dodges conversation starters, and suddenly, James feels more like his captured hand is a leash.
He doesn’t dare laugh.
When they arrive in their classroom, Lily turns to him with her arms now crossed. “I realized that you told me about your gift right before I had to leave for class. On purpose.”
“That I did.”
“How Slytherin.”
James smiles at the jab. “Hey, if you have to keep such a big secret from everyone , being a little cunning is mandatory. The hat never considered me for the house, though, unlike someone I know…”
Lily giggles again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and the young man easily wraps his around her waist and pulls her flush against him. “You're a little too gullible and dense to be a proper Slytherin, Jamie.” She says.
“You like that I'm gullible and dense.” James says unashamedly, just to hear her laugh another time.
The Marauders are constantly complaining about imaginary toothaches when he gets like this - which has been every single time Lily has walked into the room ever since the witch had kissed him at the end of school last year. After what happened after OWLs in fifth year, James’ Mum and Dad had been very cross, since he finally admitted to what was happening at school - because it sure wasn't the headmaster who’d informed them - and he had cleaned up his act after that lecture. Sirius had been cross after that, but Remus was very pleased to find that James had finally ‘grown up’ and made sure Sirius had followed suit.
It figures that James just needed to stop acting like an entitled arse before Lily was willing to tolerate him, and they had become friends in the months afterwards.
Anyway, James’ friends are constantly teasing him about the ‘honeymoon phase’. He thinks they're just jealous.
(They have a lot to be jealous about.)
Lily presses a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away, crossing her arms. “Tell me about necromancy, then. I want to know. ”
“As the lady wishes.” James ignores her subtle eye roll as he pulls up the leg of his trousers, uncovering the sheath that's strapped to his calf. He pulls out his ritual dagger.
It's one of the more plain daggers that has been used in his family, which had surprised everyone.
Lily is eyeing it excitedly when he asks, “what do you know about bloodline gifts?”
“They're tied to old family magicks, developed over generations of Wizarding families through the use of a certain branch of magic favored by the family. There's metamorphmagi and parselmouths, but those were the only two I knew of.” Lily spouts easily.
Nodding, James takes the blade and slices his palm.
“For the Peverells, it went a little… differently.”
“How so?”
“The first generation Peverell was gifted it after he reached adulthood.” James states. “Leviticus was the royal healer at the time of King Leon Pendragon's reign, right before Uther Pendragon outlawed magic, and he was surrounded by death - especially after the death of his muggle family. He was never afraid of Death, though, respected him, and he was eventually chosen by him to be his.”
James activates his necromantic power, and the blood in his veins turns black with his inherent Dark magic, the blood in his palm quick to follow. He looks up when his girlfriend gasps, but instead of being afraid, she's reaching out with an awed look on her face. He smiles. Reaching out to meet her in the middle, he grasps her hand, and his blood flows like mercury across her pale skin.
“His?” Lily whispers.
“Yeah, his. Hecate has her children, but us Peverells were claimed as his own. Anyway, our bloodline gift takes the term quite literally, as you can see.”
Lily snorts at that, pulled out of her reverie. “Jamie.” She admonishes.
“Alright, alright.” James says, faux exasperated, “Necromancy is known to be about corpses, bones - you know, dead shite. But we have this saying: there is no Death without life. There is no ‘Lady Life’, or whatever. Just Death. Life and Death are two inseparable things. So, while my blood can cause things to decay and rot…”
“It - it can also heal?”
“Got it in one.”
“Fascinating.” Lily murmurs. “And you can obviously control its behavior. What are its limits?”
“Well, I only have so much blood before I need to drink a Blood Replenisher, and for creatures, animals, and humans my blood has to enter their bloodstream to do anything. It's much, much easier to heal than it is to use it offensively.”
“But you can use standard magic on your blood, right? Like, use duro to harden it, or maybe the Blood Boiling Curse to cause burns?” Lily continues.
James smiles, and answers readily.
---
Lily is standing outside the guard, ready to keep other members of the Order from entering as long as she can, and warn him of their approach.
He can't risk doing this every time someone is hurt, but Remus is here and bleeding out from the claw marks on his chest and his lungs were punctured and collapsing -
And no one knows about his arrival yet.
James leans over him, vanishes their shirts, and summons his ritual dagger, not flinching or even hissing when he presses the blade against the crook of his elbow and drags it down to his wrist. He holds out his arm, allowing his blood to cascade down from his wound and drip into Remus’ bloody chest.
“As Death's Chosen, I sacrifice my blood and flesh for the blood and flesh of my brother. May Death stand witness.” He chants, and his blood, from the cut to the drops falling from his hand, glows with Death's magic. It blackens as the sacrificed blood spreads out and sinks into Remus’ chest.
Where James’ blood mixes with Remus’, the rivets change course as if sucked back into a straw, returning to where it belongs .
“May my blood cleanse the blood of my brothers.” Death's magic pulses with his words, and the wounds begin to close. “And may my blood heal flesh and bone.” There's a crack of a bone snapping back into place.
Remus gasps, sucking in two lungfuls of air, and James sobs in relief. Spell done, his wills his own wound to stitch close, and James lifts his bloodied hand to his friend's forehead, right above the cut. He traces the ‘algiz’ rune of protection, whispering “Your blood is my blood”, and watches as his blood sinks into Remus’ skin.
It's not the first time he's done this, and it won't be the last - no matter how unethical it may be. He can't tell his friends what he is, and ‘blood’ magic is Dark magic and therefore illegal. His friends would never believe James is willing to perform it, let alone consent to it.
But every full moon grows easier the more often James does this - the ‘wolf's skin more durable and less vulnerable to his own claws, and his mind more his own as the blood curse's hold grows weaker.
Lily has consented to it a few times, which sets his mind at ease.
May Death not claim my friends, he thinks. May Death wait until they've grown old and grey.
If he claims them early, may I celebrate the life they lived and the legacy they leave behind.
---
When Dumbledore and Peter leave Godric's Hollow, James has to close his eyes and force himself to breathe.
Lily told him she was pregnant a month ago, and they were both terrified. They were careful - he swears it - but now Lily is pregnant in the middle of a war and You-Know-Who is only growing in power.
And now - now, when James and Lily were already planning on hiding to protect their unborn child, Dumbledore comes to them and tells them about a prophecy.
A power the Dark Lord knows not , James heard, and his world stuttered to a stop. He knew, then and there, that his child was the Dark Lord's prophesied enemy, no matter how Alice and Frank had also announced their pregnancy.
“We need to plan.” James whispers.
“We will.” Lily says resolutely, reaching over to grasp his hand tightly. “We won't leave them unprotected, even in Death.”
“Lily, Petal, I'm so sor-”
“Jamie. Our child will be a necromancer, and you've taught me that that's a gift to cherish. They will be powerful, and that power will keep them safe.”
“They're not even born yet, and You-Know-Who is after them.” James rasps, and despite his efforts tears spring to his eyes.
“Let's - let's not think about that.” Lily says, voice shaking. “C'mon, let's go to the family manor and scour the library.”
Right. The library with the copious amounts of books on the Dark Arts and necromancy. They'll need to start researching immediately.
James wanted to hide there, but he couldn't bring any of the Order members, and he didn't want to risk Dumbledore getting his hands on Potter secrets. They can't risk losing the history or magic when their kid might have to grow up without James to guide them.
Oh, Merlin, he has to make sure they'll be able to get to Potter Manor. He'll need to contact Gringotts - they need to make wills.
James doesn’t want to die. He wants to grow old with Lily and see their kid grow up and make sure his kid isn’t an only child like he was.
Death forgive him. James doesn’t want to die .
---
Their kid is going to be a boy. James already knew he was going to be a boy, since he’s incapable of fathering a daughter, but the confirmation was still exciting.
James wouldn’t truly care one way or the other - he'll love them no matter who or what they are or who they'll become, but knowing is different than imagining. He'll have a baby boy, a son, and in an ideal world where there was no war, he'd encourage any and all mischief, parade his kid around because he's Lily's kid too, and dote on him endlessly. He'd make sure to teach him kindness and patience - make sure his son didn't make the same mistakes he did - and he'd help him master their gift.
“You ready, Petal?” James asks his beautiful wife, who's glowing in happiness. In their bubble they can pretend that there's nothing wrong - that their kid is only cause for celebration instead of debilitating fear.
Lying on their bed, clothes off and towels underneath them, James can see Lily's baby bump where it's starting to show. The mother of his child nods, smiling softly, and he summons his dagger.
This will be the first step to their plan. Surrounded by Lily's flesh and blood, their son is encased in the conduit of necromantic magic, and as a fetus is parasitic in nature, Lily is already considered to be sacrificing her body for the health of their child. James has already performed traditional rituals from the family grimoire, ensuring the health of Lily and their unborn son, but this ritual in particular is about protecting the bloodline, and by extension, their family gift.
“The blood of the line ran through the veins of my forefathers, and their blood now runs through me.” James starts, slicing the palm of his right hand, through the heart line and fate line - the creases in his skin. “Through me, our blood welcomes new blood, entwining my fate with another as our hearts beat as one.”
Lily sucks in a breath, like she always does when James’ red eyes begin to brighten and glow. “The first of my line, I gift my flesh, my blood, and my power.” She says, offering her hand. “My flesh provides protection and gives shelter until which my kin may survive separate from me. My blood sustains the life within and my power shall sustain it without. May Death accept my sacrifice and allow me to protect his Chosen.”
The magic of the ritual once again eases the pain as James cuts along the lines of life and health on her palm before making the slightest incision down the center of her abdomen. He sets aside the dagger, aligning their cut palms and holding them above Lily's prone stomach.
“Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood,” they say together, “may those that wish you harm be punished. May Death watch over you and yours, us and ours.”
James directs their blood into the incision.
This part, they added themselves. James takes one final deep breath. His voice shakes.
“May you welcome Death as a friend, rather than a stranger. May you live to learn of him, understand him, and accept him. You have yet to live, cannot yet survive.” He says, remembering the prophecy. “May your years outnumber ours, as there is no Death without Life, and Death gives Life meaning.”
“We bestow you your true name, Hadri Jermaine Peverell, and may you be known as Harry James Potter by Mother Hecate until you claim it. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. May Death stand witness.”
The candles they lit are then snuffed out, their blood growing warmer under their hands as if stealing the heat of the flames. It sinks into Lily, and the glow of James’ magic can be seen wrapping around their unborn child.
The light pulses, before fading away.
---
Harry is born as the seventh month dies, on July 31st, 1980, at dusk. He has a tuft of black hair, and eyes so green they remind James of the Killing Curse.
The shade is lighter than Lily's, and it gives the same glow James’ does. Someway, somehow, the kid, the necromancer, doesn't have the telling red shade that they anticipated.
It's unheard of.
“It has to be because of the rituals.” Lily hypothesizes, sounding predictably exhausted. Her voice is a bit shot, but James only notices because he knows its cadence so well. “Maybe he'll have a power even we won't understand.”
James wants to argue, but he knows the green shade isn't a mere coincidence. As a necromancer, the kid should have red eyes, so the outlier no doubt has some kind of meaning. Despite how… unsettled the knowledge makes him, he's glad that they won't have to worry about using glamors on the kid.
James kisses his wife and son, and steps out to greet Remus, Sirius, and… Dumbledore. “Headmaster, I hope you understand that whatever you wish to discuss will have to wait.” He says, voice distant and a little cold.
He used to trust the man - as much as a Dark wizard can trust him - but the lauded defeater of Grindelwald and the sole wizard that You-Know-Who fears sure hasn't done much to make sure his son will be able to live out from under the Dark Lord's reign. Maybe that isn't fair to the man, but James is terrified for his family . Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily. Harry .
James would die for them, and he knows he probably will.
“Of course, my boy. Don't let me impose on your special occasion. Congratulations.”
James nods stiffly, turning to his fellow Marauders and smiling once more. It’s too bad that Peter couldn’t make it, but the man had said that he had something to take care of. “Ready to meet your godson, Pads?”
Sirius perks up the same way he would as Padfoot. “So ready! Let- wait. What? Godson?” He stutters, pausing mid step and stumbling. He looks up with wide, bewildered eyes.
James laughs, and Remus tries to hide his own smile. James already had a talk with Remus to make sure there wouldn't be any hard feelings, and a few reprimands were necessary when the ‘wolf made disparaging comments on his suitability as a parent.
‘You'd be godmother if Lily wasn't choosing Alice!’ James had joked, nose turned up at Remus. ‘Merlin knows how much of a mother you are.’
‘I'll make sure Sirius remembers to feed your kid vegetables.’ Remus replied dryly, making the parents-to-be snort.
“Keep up, Sirius!” James teases his brother in all but blood - or law, or name. James digresses. He grabs Sirius by the shoulder and shoves him inside the private hospital room. “You, godfather. Papa Padfoot.”
That slides right off the tongue, and James makes a mental note to use it as often as possible.
Lily sighs in exasperation. “Ask the man properly, would you, Jamie?”
“Yes, dear.” James agrees, and he sheds the humor to settle in a fond smile. Sirius still looks lost, the poor sod. “Sirius, my brother - will you be my son's godfather?”
Sirius flounders, speechless for once in his life. James feels a rush of satisfaction, but ignores it in favor of walking to Lily, who holds out Harry, his beautiful baby boy. Picking up the little tyke, James walks back over to Sirius.
“Woah, wait, James-” Sirius panics, but James won't have it.
“Support his head - there you go. Look at that, you're a natural.” James teases. Sirius is tense and rigid, stunned stiff, and James worries that Harry will start crying - Merlin knows babies can bloody tell these kinds of things - but Harry yawns and merely blinks up at the strange, unfamiliar man.
Slowly, Sirius reaches up with his free hand, swiping his calloused thumb softly across Harry's cheek, and the boy gurgles. He hums, reaching out with his pudgy hand. Harry obviously understood his assignment, and James feels irrationally proud at the prospect.
His kid will be a genius, he swears it.
“Hello, Harry.” Sirius murmurs. Mission accomplished. Sirius has already expressed that he doesn't want children of his own, doesn't want to be the one to bring a child into the world and watch them experience its cruelty, but it was only to James that he confessed that he imagined being a doting uncle to Regulus’ kids when he was younger.
‘Well, now I just imagine spoiling your future kids. Me and your sprog will be thick as thieves and terrorize you and Lily both.’
‘I'd like to see you try and prank Lily again.’
‘You're right. Good luck trying to sleep at night, Prongs.’
“I'm your Uncle Padfoot, and this-” Sirius points absentmindedly to the general vicinity of where Remus is standing, “is your Uncle Moony. I know I'm just a blob to you right now, but that's no excuse not to remember me, alright?”
James, Lily, and Remus stifle their snickers, and Sirius up at them, smile so wide it probably hurts. “Prongs, you have a son! Look at him!”
“Yeah, Pads. I see him. You still haven't answered my question, you know.”
“Of course I'll be his godfather, are you kidding?” Sirius says, affronted, “He's your kid, and with everything going on he'll need all the allies he can get. I swear, James, that if anything happens I'll be there.”
James smiles, wobbly and lopsided, and watches as Remus walks up to look over Sirius’ shoulder. The man pokes at Harry as if he's recklessly assessing a muggle bomb, and jolts when the baby gurgles again.
“What was that!?”
“I didn't expect him to react!”
“Dear Merlin and Morgana, Moony, he's an infant that got poked for the first time in his life.”
“You're just upset that I had the privilege.”
Harry gurgles again, effectively ending the impending argument. James takes the opportunity to drag his friends to Lily's bedside, and Sirius reluctantly hands Harry to Remus.
Sirius’ soft smile grows pensive, and James gives him a questioning look, which he catches easily. The man visibly wars with himself before taking out his wand and adding to the privacy wards that are already protecting them.
“Would you two be willing to allow me to magically adopt him? Or - or to blood adopt him? I know it's Dark magic, but-”
“But you're afraid that if we die, the ministry will try to prevent you from taking custody.” Lily finishes for him, and Sirius nods solemnly.
“The House of Black has a few ways to allow the family magic to accept new house members, but, you know…”
James nods, “we do know. Sirius, may I remind you, again, that you guys are the ones that hate Dark wizards and Dark creatures?” He asks bluntly, not apologetic at all when the two of them wince. “I've tried to tell you two that Dark wixen and creatures aren't inherently bad, but you always seem to think I'm placating you or some other rubbish.”
“You two are not the exception to the rule.” Lily adds. “The wixen following You-Know-Who are purebloods who want people like me dead and buried, and not all of those purebloods are Dark wizards.”
“Of course they're purebloods.” Sirius scoffs, though confused. “Muggle-borns aren't born Dark-”
“Wrong.” James interrupts, and his friends startle at the harsh tone. “Muggle-borns aren't given the resources they need to identify the nature of their cores, and Muggle-borns with Dark cores can and have struggled trying to perform Light magic. They are typically considered weak unless they have unusually large cores to sustain Light magic, but I can assure you - that isn't the case.”
Sirius is looking between them, assessing, and frowning deeply. Remus looks intrigued, though, looking thoughtfully at the far wall as he taps his chin.
“What evidence-?”
“I'm a Dark witch.” Lily admits, “James shared a ritual with me to help me determine my magical power and affinity, and we performed it together.”
“Harry undoubtedly has the potential to have a Dark core, let alone a Shadowed core.” James adds, internally wincing at the lie.
Sirius looks as if his world has been rocked spectacularly, and if James wasn't so indignant he'd laugh. He can't say anymore without giving away family secrets, but the truth of the matter is that the Peverell family weren't ever of ‘pure’ blood, and neither are the Potters, naturally. People tend to forget that women that marry into the family are muggle-born when they change their names.
Lily was a bit… upset, when she found out that Potter men were encouraged to marry muggleborns, or at least witches - or wizards - that are distant in relation. That last bit is common sense, though maybe not as common as it should be, but Lily thought that her heritage was why James was so obsessed with her. It took a bit of time to explain that they were encouraged , meaning that they weren't under threat of being disowned like so many other families would do. It was acceptance and inviting children to pursue who they loved rather than what would bring them more political power.
(Not that they need political power, whether the general populous knew that or not.)
Either way, Potters don't leave family members with untapped potential. They even have books on Light Magic for those with Light cores, but all children born with Peverell blood will unfailingly have cores darker than the midnight sky.
It comes with the territory of being Death's Chosen.
“Right, okay, because that doesn't go against everything I was taught as a kid.” Sirius says to himself, “I should've realized…”
James waits patiently for his friend to process and adjust his worldview accordingly, though he knows he'll have to remind the twat the next time he survives a fight against the Death Eaters.
“Right, now that you actually listened to me.” James says, and Sirius and Remus smile sheepishly. “I don't know how Lily would feel about it, but blood adoption, to me, is a good idea. Although, Mum and Dad wanted to blood adopt you , so maybe we can actually make you Harry's blood uncle instead.”
“I don't care as long as Petunia doesn't get her bigoted hands on my son.” Lily says in a light, cooing tone meant to be for Harry's benefit.
He's a father. It's not the first time he's had this thought, but it still makes him giddy.
---
“This might not work, Petal.” James murmurs over the music player. They turn it on every time Harry falls asleep so the boy doesn't wake at the slightest sound.
They're going over the notes they made while doing their research, and it's evident that this set of circumstances they've found themselves in has never been encountered before. Justus Peverell was afraid of the family being reduced to a single Heir again, of course, but he created rituals that'd ensure the health of an unborn child and increased fertility. There are also rituals to make sure James can only father a son, not a daughter, to make sure the gift is kept within the family.
(He performed those under his father’s careful guidance when he was thirteen. Protecting family secrets was more important than all else, but James had wanted many children after his childhood as an only child, and he had grieved for the daughters he could never have.
The Potters are known for it -- known for being a long line of only men. The Potter family is considered young, but even after three generations it was hard not to notice that the Potter family never married into other families, let alone now after a few centuries.)
Justus also stressed the importance of keeping the Cloak nearby, which was a no-brainer to James.
There's nothing on how to protect the Heir after death when they're unable to protect themselves, and nothing helpful about prophecies and protection against them.
James and Lily did, however, find rituals that are used to create portraits - rituals that allowed a wixen to give up a piece of their magical core to create echoes of themselves, from early attempts of their creation - which is much safer and more ethical than the horcruxes that Ambrose Peverell had researched when Herpo the Foul spouted his success of cheating Death.
(Which was a terribly bad idea during the Peverells’ height of power.)
Additionally, they found a book that was dedicated to research about the Killing Curse - You-Know-Who's go-to spell when confronted by his opposition.
Solstice Peverell was the fourth daughter born to her parents, and the witch she wished to marry was murdered by a man insulted by his rejected advances. It made James cringe a bit in shame - he was rather persistent himself, afterall - but Lily wouldn't let him apologize for the thousandth time over something she had already forgiven.
Nonetheless, Solstice wanted to find a way to protect someone from the Killing Curse, because if she had known a way, maybe her lover would've survived.
‘I don't begrudge Death for welcoming her into his Realm. May she find peace in his embrace.’ Solstice wrote, ‘but Peverells are not only raised to understand and accept Death, we are raised to celebrate Life. Accepting Death is not synonymous with lying down and not fighting for the lives we were blessed with - it is about knowing Death may claim us at any moment, so we must pursue our goals, love intensely, and give back to the world before we are taken from it. With Death comes legacy. If I had known how to save her - if I was capable of doing so - I would've loved her as I do now, and she would be here to receive it. She would be here and I would not have to carry out our goals without her.’
At first, it covers what they already know. The wand movement is the vague shape of a lightning bolt, the incantation is Avada Kedavra , and the spell is the same green of Harry's eyes. The Killing Curse can't be blocked magically but can be blocked by a physical barrier, and anyone or anything hit with it dies a seemingly painless and instantaneous death - leaving behind no hint of violence or cause of death.
Solstice, using necromancy and animal sacrifices, had found that the Killing Curse works three-fold: one, it stops the heart; two, binds a person's magical core; and three, tears a soul violently out of the body. Theoretically, it's actually quite painful for a fraction of a second.
Stopping the heart makes the body seize, binding the magic keeps it from trying to restart the heart and leaves the soul vulnerable and weak.
Solstice quickly came to the conclusion that preventing one or even two of those effects would just prolong the death - the biggest thing that could save a life was preventing the curse from tearing the soul out, but sooner rather than later the body would no longer be able to sustain life. It would've been cruel to attempt such a thing, so Solstice abandoned that avenue and looked toward sacrificial protection magic.
‘It's not something that can be performed in the moment, but if you know someone is after you or a loved one, it's possible. I know I would've traded places with my beloved if I could, so someone out there must feel the same. There's a ritual named ‘Vita Propter Amorem’ - which translates as ‘life for love's sake’. I did not create this ritual, but I did make changes to increase the chances of success. The Dark Wizard who did create it knew nothing of proper necromancy, let alone possess the gift.’
James had swallowed when he read her statement that the only magical protection strong enough to ward off the Killing Curse would have to be powered by a willing life sacrifice.
A life for a life.
And now, knowing they will not survive a direct confrontation with You-Know-Who, they have a plan written out in front of them that's largely based on theory and hope .
“It has to work.” Lily finally replies.
James nods, not able to think of the alternative. He looks back down at their notes and checks them for the tenth time for miscalculations or botched theory. Again, he can't find anything.
First, James will be anchoring a piece of his magical core to a magical tattoo they'll be giving Harry, made of a mixture of ink and his blood. Since it isn't a piece of his soul he won't be anchored to the material plane, but he won't be entirely in Death's realm either, as a person’s magical core is tied to their soul - which is why stripping someone’s magic, or extreme magical exhaustion, can be deadly. His magical core will be an echo of himself, and - theoretically - since necromancer’s can contact Death's realm he'll be able to contact the material plane through his anchored core. If that isn't the case, the echo will be more like a portrait. Hopefully.
It sounds like a huge stretch of logic, but it's all they have.
Harry should have a companion either way, even if it won’t be able to speak. It’s not like they could tattoo James’ face on their kid - that’s just extremely bad taste. Modern portraits merely use copied memories, but that isn’t enough.
Lily will be performing the willing sacrifice, and it should keep Harry alive long enough for Dumbledore and/or Sirius to come to his aid.
Of course, this is the last resort. They're safely hidden under the Fidelius Charm - though being stuck in their home for so long has been taking its toll on them - and they shouldn't be in any danger unless they leave or, Merlin forbid it, Peter rats them out.
Pun intended.
They know they won't survive a confrontation with You-Know-Who, though, so they have to make sure they won't leave their son under his mercy.
---
(James permanently reduces his magical capacity, but it's worth it for Harry. For his first and only son.
A tattoo of his animagus form sleeps over his son's heart.)
---
(Peter betrays them. James knows as soon as he hears a crack of apparition followed by chilling laughter.)
---
(James buys Lily time to get Harry within the ritual circle, and James isn't fast enough to get a physical barrier between him and the spell in the enclosed space.)
---
“Hello, James.” A voice says fondly.
The man's eyes flutter, and he cringes away from the bright, white room he's evidently in. He groans, slowly standing from where he's lying on the floor. And finally adjusting, James knows who is standing with him the moment he sees them.
“Lord Death.” He breathes, bowing his head, “please - accept me as I've accepted you.”
The deity has green eyes that match Harry's own and black, pin-straight hair that runs down his back. His skin is sheet white, his robes a deep, deep crimson. He chuckles, smiling down at him.
“My children seem to always forget that I've chosen them.” Death murmurs.
“Favored or not, we can fall out of it or fall further.” James retorts mildly.
That makes Death smile unnaturally wide, and he takes a few steps towards the wall at James’ left, circling him. “You remind me much of Ignotus, but your beloved - your beloved reminds me of a woman named Ophelia Gaunt.”
“Lily! Is she-? And Harry-!”
“Yes. She's speaking with me now.” The deity confirms, “Your son has been found by his godfather. He's safe - for now.”
James’ knees hit the ground, but James barely notices as he sobs in relief. His son - he's alive and Sirius has him. He's going to be okay. James and Lily had worked tirelessly to make sure of it, and the assurance that their time wasn't wasted makes the tears they had shed and all of the late nights they suffered worth it.
And, selfishly, he's glad Lily is here with him.
“Ophelia Gaunt was Cadmus’ granddaughter.” Death eventually continues, and his voice remains soft and gentle. “She didn't inherit my gift - none of Cadmus’ descendents did - but she didn't let that stop her. She worked with what she had. She loved and loved unapologetically. She, too, died for her family's safety.”
James nods, not necessarily understanding why Death is telling him this. “Death, could - could you tell me if our research, the rituals we created-?”
“If it had been any other mortal, dear child, it wouldn't’ve.”
“But because I'm your Chosen…?”
“And because your son is Fated, I'll allow it. You see, James, magic is dying. As Dark wixen are culled and the Dark Arts fall into obscurity, the world is becoming more and more unbalanced. My connection with the material plane is growing weaker.” Death admits to him. The deity comes forward to kneel in front of him, no longer looking down his nose to meet James’ gaze.
“What does that mean?” The mortal asks the god, “If souls can't enter your realm…”
“Then they'll all be doomed to exist as ghosts, poltergeists. I don't think I need to tell you why that can't happen.” James nods, feeling slightly panicked.
“And Harry’s Fated, you said? Is this about the prophecy?”
“Yes. Voldemort has now marked him as his equal, and now your son will be hunted by him. I’m sorry, James, but your son has been tasked by Lady Fate, and Mother Magic needs him to be the one to restore my connection and bring balance back to Earth’s magic as the last of my Chosen.” Death says. “I feel as if by giving your ancestors my gift, I’ve doomed their family - and therefore you, Lily, and dear Harry.”
“It sounds, to me, that if you hadn’t, magic would already be dead, Lord Death.” James says mournfully.
“Correct.” Death admits. “It’s futile to regret my decision, but the sentiment is there.”
Sitting there in Limbo, waiting to cross over to greet Lily and his parents - all of his ancestors and friends who’ve died in the war - James wants to be angry. He’s only twenty-one, and now he’ll forever be young. His son will be forced to live without him and Lily, and more than that, Harry has been given a heavy burden with responsibilities that are beyond him right now.
Why does it have to be Harry ? Why his son?
“Death? Why does Harry have green eyes?” James asks. “Why does he have your eyes?”
The god smiles, and holds out his hand.
He never answers.