Chapter one- The King of Gryffindor
The sound of a babies wail sliced through the airy dreams of Lily Potter who awoke instantly. It was not the crying that woke her, but her mother's intuition sensing something was wrong. The niggling sensation spread worry through the pit of her stomach and she arose out of the warm quilt cautiously as not to wake the other inhabitant of her bed. She peered down at her husband sleeping and was relaxed by the sight of his calmed sleep. The strong man she loved would not let anything happen to her or their son; nor would the castle which had enough strength to protect them. It had been almost a year since Harry was born and the celebrations had only just about stopped. The people rejoiced that not only an heir was born to secure the throne; but they were happy for the king and queen who have little to none blood relatives left to begin a family. Lily along with the people had fretted that the abrupt death of James' grandfather (his only living relative) would shake his unwavering and righteous conviction. Although James had mourned for days; he had grown stronger and more aware of his family and role as king.
Their son was of great resemblance to her husband even at the tender ages of babyhood. Lily gently scooped the crying infant onto her shoulder and rubbed relaxing circles onto his small back. The Gryffindor castle had been the location of all the Potters upbringings. Harry's room had no doubt been the room James had been tended to as an infant. The babe continued crying despite his mother's touch which was an unusual occurrence. Lily could have hired maids to cater to and bring up her son. She heard this was a common practice in the royal families of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Yet she sought to raise him herself as she thought it was an important role for a mother and a mother only; even if it meant waking at early hours of the morning to tend to her son.
Harry continued crying and this worried the queen as he normally would have ceased by now. She removed the baby from her shoulder and inspected the boy for any sort of injury or sign of illness. The icy brisk air numbed the tips of her fingers and exposed feet which made the feeling disappear from her skin. Lily noted that the fire was long burnt out and that Harry was stone cold in her arms. The window was wide open, letting the cold air float inwards, causing the red velvet curtains to flutter. Perhaps one of the maids left it open?
Lily suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable standing alone in the dark room. She sensed eyes upon her and the Queen's heart hammered in her chest as her eyes searched the room for any hint of movement, through the open window, behind the crib and chairs. Alas, there was nothing. Harry seemed to be crying louder and started struggling within her arms.
Was all this figments from her imagination? She didn't know what to do. Her lungs felt compressed with panic as her gut instinct told her to run. Sprint as fast as her legs could carry her away from this room. However her legs couldn't move. The wooden door slowly creaked open and the ominous figure made Lily freeze with fear. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and illogical theories filled her mind at lightning speed.
Whoever they were, they would not get to Harry. She could not scream because it was difficult to open her mouth; like someone had gagged her. When the minimal light from the coals and ember at the fireplace hit the man's face, she felt relief pour through her like warm milk. It was only James entering the chamber.
"James, what are you doing up?"
He did not reply and Lily thought he had not heard her over the continuous wails from their child.
"It's ok! I can take care of Harry. He's just acting up a little." She assured louder than before.
James smiled and walked towards her with his arms stretched out to her almost longingly. Lily was close to running and embracing him as to rejuvenate her senses from the shock of fear only moments before but something stopped her when she glimpsed into his brown eyes. The Queen's heart stopped. Her lover's eyes were lacking light. A glimmer that showed that life was still present was vacant from his normally mischievous orbs. Sorrow inundated her body. This was not her husband.
Before her husband's outstretched hands could reach her, Lily saw the fighting eyes of her lover once last time, the same eyes which gazed lovingly at her every time their eyes met. The same eyes which displayed pure joy when Harry was born or the mischievous and boyish glint they held when they met as children... were empty. Lily felt wet and warm tears fall from her eyes; they dripped onto the floor simultaneously with the thud of the body of her best friend, lover, and most cherished soul in the entire word. Lily knew that the beloved king of Gryffindor was dead.
She was confident humans could not explode, but there was no other way to describe her anguish. The unfamiliar emotions came rushing through her skull and sanity; inundating everything. Flashes of her poor childhood which consisted of sitting high in the oak tree and wishing to fly. Viewing the boy she loved for the first time. She did not hold back her scream; conquering the imaginary restraints enclosed upon her mouth. The Queen did not know what was going on, she was not aware of what was up or down. The wails of her son faded into the background as her eyes were fixed onto the blurry image of the body of husband.
A blinding green light dazed her, and she saw her husband again. James was warm and he hugged her tightly, she felt overcome and deliriously happy. She cried into his chest and wrapped her arms so tightly around him that it would be impossible to ever separate them again. Lily decided that this was the happiest moment of her life. Lily thought it was impossible to see someone she had lost again; but the ones that she had surrounded her. However, there was something missing from her breast. When she looked down the warmth died. Lily felt cold and she and James began sobbing. Where was Harry?
Harry James Potter at that moment became king of Gryffindor; at the age of one was the youngest king in history, wailing in his dead mothers embrace.