A/N: So in celebration of Potter Day, I'd like to post a fanfic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, things would be hella different.
October 31,1981
Happy Birthday, Harry!
It's too early for this, I know, but with so many unlikely events... I'm not sure about anything anymore.
You're a year old and you're playing with your toys on the floor of the living room where I write this letter.
You look just like me but you've got your mother's eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? I'm sure that's what everyone says.
It's interesting, I'm writing this letter thinking you're already seventeen and you're going to graduate Hogwarts when you can barely say coherent words, but I don't mind. It was a spur of the moment thing to do and I had all the time to write this letter. I'm sure when I do show you this we'll both laugh about it while we drink some hot chocolate one evening. Maybe even Sirius, Remus and Peter will join us.
I'm sure you've grown up as a wonderful boy and quite the trouble maker yourself (of course, you'll be taught by the Marauders). There's a war raging on right now, outside our door, but we're trying our best to defeat the dark wizard behind it. Your Uncles Sirius and Remus are coming by later. Probably with tons of gifts for you. They spoil you rotten, sometimes, you know?
What I really want to say is that I love you and I always will. I'm not sure I'll make it out of this war, alive but all I hope for is that you know you're loved. I hope that you grow up being loved and cared for.
You'll grow up to do a great many things, Harry and just know I'm proud of you.
From your dad,
James
Harry Potter felt a small tear drop onto the paper. He was in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, in Sirius' old room. He was seventeen and was going to face the darkest wizard and try to defeat him. The same wizard his parents were trying to defeat.
He knew dark times would be ahead but his dad would always be there and so would his mum and also Sirius. He was happy he had one more thing to remind him of his parents. He loved the feeling that came from reading his dad's letter, trying to imagine his voice and knowing he'll never truly hear it because as happy and cheerful the letter sounded, he knew what would happen. He would live and they would not.