Tags: Older Brother Harry, Alive Potter Family, Not Boy-Who-Lived Harry, Different Magic School
Inspirations: Pottermore article about Magic Schools, Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived by The Santi, Gabriel by Shikatanai, more TBA
Disclaimers: Harry Potter Wikia was heavily used in the making of this fix (yet still not heavily enough).
Warning: this chapter is a prologue that sets the story. Harry will take all the spotlight from next chapter on.

07 April 1987

HOGWARTS CLOSES AFTER DEATH OF 2 STUDENTS

For weeks, Ministry Officials have been receiving reports of strange activity at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from concerned parents, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent. Alarming reports of bloody messages and curious curfew enforcements were quickly debunked in March by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and downplayed to be wayward pranksters (see page 9 for 15 March 1987 article HOGWARTS: CHAMBER OF SECRETS OPENED AGAIN?).

Something has been stirring inside the Hogwarts castle – hailed for being second to none for protections and security – and last night it reached the precipice. Two students, who have yet to be identified, who fought valiantly for their lives when it was Headmaster Dumbledore's responsibly to protect and shield them from dangers inside and outside of the school, were wrongfully murdered in the corridors of Hogwarts yesterday night, resulting in the school's immediate closure until further notice. Today, we mourn two young souls – souls that possessed dreams of being ministers, aurors, and healers – souls that were cruelly stolen too early from mothers, brothers, sisters and fathers. The hearts of Britain mourn with the families and friends, all of whom are undoubtedly traumatized by this great travesty, and this reporter asks: who will take responsibility? We entrust our children, our heirs and heiresses, to Hogwarts with promises from overseers that our children will be safe while they are educated, but today this reporter uncovers this inexcusable neglect by Hogwarts Faculty (story continues on page 3).

"You know," Lily mused while sifting through the mail the local post owl had delivered earlier, "I didn't realize magical schools sent out this many brochures."

James plucked one from the pile, turning it back and forth. "I got a few before I went to Hogwarts. Beauxbatons, Durmstrang… I think even a Russian school too, but I had my heart set on this flying school, because—is this Chinese?"

He passed the pamphlet to Lily, who hummed curiously. "I don't believe so. I vaguely remember learning Mahoutokoro is somewhere in Japan, so I'll take a chance and say it's Japanese."

"Huh. I guess they have to go to school, too."

"Where'd you think they go?"

"I don't know, hadn't really thought about it. Home school, maybe?"

Lily snorted, shaking her head. "So this flying school…" she held up a shimmering gold pamphlet with a moving picture of a man performing a triple roll on a broomstick, "was it this one by chance—?"

James snatched it so fast, a couple brochures were scattered to the floor from the wind. "Academy of Broom Flying? Eh… I don't think so. Doesn't it sound a little…"

"Boring? Dull?"

"Yeah, that."

"Quite," she muffled her laughter into her hand at his completely deflated expression. "So if not this one then what was it called?"

James shrugged, prompting Lily to roll her eyes.

"I only ever got a single notice from any magical school and it was my acceptance letter from Hogwarts. Are muggleborns really at such a disadvantage when it comes to educational options? Just look at all these speciality schools. Herbology, Magizoology, Languages, Dueling—is that Alchemy?! James look at that! Teaching kids alchemy at 11? That's one of the hardest subjects to learn!"

"Not if you you start young," James grunted noncommittally. "And it's not really a disadvantage. The schools that recruit muggleborns are always the most well-rounded, like Hogwarts. It doesn't have any speciality, per se, but it has quality education overall."

"Quality education," she peered at him with a puzzled frown. "Since when have you of all people cared about 'quality education.'"

"I," he emphasized, "don't. Never really have, but my mom said something of that nature back when she wouldn't let me go to flying school."

"Ah, yes. It all comes back to this mysterious flying school."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," she dismissed. "Anyway, I just think it would've been nice to have these options before setting off to Hogwarts."

"But then you would've never met me, the dashing man you call your husband," he flexed, showing off his quidditch-honed physique.

"How ever would I have survived without six years of harassment?" Lily deadpanned.

"You know you loved it," James suggested with a wagging eyebrow. He was met with an even flatter stare from green eyes. "Okay, well you know you love me?"

"Better."

James puffed up at the approval, smugness written across his face as he watched her shuffle through the brochures. "It's sort of a law, which schools muggleborns can go to."

"A law?" She repeated in disbelief.

"Well not really a law but sort of like one. More like an agreement, between all wizards. Each continent, or I guess land mass since Beauxbatons is around, designates one school to recruit muggleborns. It helps keep the statute by not having a whole bunch of magical fliers going around the muggle world."

"I… guess that makes sense. And it's not like Hogwarts was a bad school. I don't think I could have asked for a better education," Lily's face turned puzzled, "but where'd you learn that from? I don't remember that being in any of our history lessons."

James shrugged, focusing his attention on a forest green pamphlet with jungle trees and two yellow eyes peering out of the darkness. "Just one of the things my father taught me as the heir."

Emerald eyes softened, and a small hand squeezed his comfortingly as a silence settled over both of them. "We should probably get Harry, see which one he's interested in since Hogwarts…"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll go get him."

James rose from table, sharing a small smile with Lily as he walked out of the room.

Harry Potter was an average, go-lucky kid, no different from any other 10-year-old boy in the world. He liked playing with other kids, delighted in flying, and absolutely adored his younger siblings, who he spent much of his time with. The only thing Harry Potter genuinely wasn't fond of were the vegetables his mother served for every dinner, but even then he didn't complain much. Harry Potter was a generally easy-going kid, and James couldn't be any prouder to have such a responsible and loving first-born.

The 10 year-old constantly went out of his way to please people, especially Eddy and Rosie, and it was no wonder he was his siblings' favorite person, even moreso than James and Lily – 'the people that birthed them' James would jokingly gripe.

To which Lily would respond, 'I birthed them.'

And James would pout, 'I helped.'

But that's neither here nor there as anything they asked for, Harry would try his best to give them whatever it was, like now.

"Now just kick off!" Harry instructed excitedly before hastily saying, "but not a lot! Just a little. Okay, Eddy?"

"I know already, Harry. You've told me a thousand times." James, who stood out of sight on the side of the house, smiled at Eddy's obvious exasperation. "Okay… here I go!"

James snuck a look around the corner to glimpse Eddy, face practically glowing in pleasure, lifting off of the grass on a Comet 260. More specifically, the Comet 260 Harry had received as a 10th birthday gift just yesterday.

"I'm doing it, Harry! Look! Do you see me?!" Eddy shouted to Harry, who was only a few feet away.

"I see you! I knew you could do it, Eddy; I told you it was easy. Now"—Harry sprinted over to a tree not far from the house— "fly this way. All you have to do is lean forward a little and the broom will move—"

"HARRY!" Instead of gliding forward, to James sinking horror, Eddy was rising higher. "Harry, it wont stop! I'm trying and it won't!" The broom jerked and James pulled out his wand, prepared to stop the worst but not willing to intervene yet.

"Eddy, listen to me! You have to sit up straight and push down on the broomstick with your hands. If you push down too much you're going to crash into the ground!"

James wanted to slap his forehead in exasperation at Eddy's subsequent wail after Harry's revelation. "I don't want to crash into the ground!"

"Then do it gently! I know you can do it, Eddy."

Eddy breathed heavily, face red, puffy, and frightened, before taking a deep inhale and following Harry's instructions. Slowly – oh, so painstakingly slowly – the broom lowered. By the time Eddy's feet were a meter above ground, Harry was patiently waiting with arms open, ready to envelope him in hug. Eddy clung to the older boy, trembling.

"I knew you could do it," Harry praised softly.

"Yeah," Eddy said dejectedly, "but it wasn't as good as you."

"What do you mean? You did amazing!"

"Really?" Eddy peered up bashfully with hopeful brown eyes.

"Wizard's oath," Harry promised with utmost seriousness. "You flew, Eddy! I crashed my first time."

Well, James thought with a wince, that's an unfortunate truth. It was a large part of the reason Harry hadn't possessed a broom before yesterday and Eddy wasn't supposed to ride one. Speaking of…

"No way," Eddy denied.

"It's true! I promise."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe it," James interrupted, finally making himself known. "What are you boys up to? It wouldn't happen to be flying would it?"

Both appeared immediately guilty and James almost broke down in laughter at their sad, kicked puppy looks. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves? Especially you, Eddy? Didn't mom tell you this morning you couldn't ride any brooms?

Somehow, Eddy shrunk further into himself.

"Dad," Harry called as he stepped in front of the younger boy to face James. "It wasn't Eddy's fault. I wanted to show him how to fly."

"Oh? So you forced Eddy to get on the broom and fly when he knew he wasn't supposed to?"

James asked, not in anger (although they didn't know that) but in genuine curiosity of the response.

Harry visibly debated with himself, knowing how far-fetched that idea sounded. "Yea—"

"Harry didn't force me!" Eddy interrupted quickly with a shame-ridden face. "I asked him to let me fly his new broom like a hundred times."

James eyed the two with a false sternness. They would've been a shoe-in for Gryffindor, he thought mournfully.

Eventually, James sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Look, boys – Eddy, mom doesn't want you to get hurt, so unless I'm with you, try to obey her wishes, okay?" Eddy nodded despondently, refusing to make eye contact whatsoever. "Harry, we know you won't let anything happen to Eddy so long as you can help it, but if mom says no then that means no. Even if Eddy asks you a thousand times, okay?"

"Okay, dad," Harry said quietly, looking just as dejected as Eddy.

"And, if for whatever reason, you cannot find me to watch you fly but you really want to fly, then at least stay safe together and put on the helmats mom bought for you guys—" Instant grins broke out onto both faces, "—okay?"

"Okay, dad!" They chorused together.

"We'll stay safe, dad. Promise," Harry added.

"Yeah, Wizards oath! Right, Harry?"

"Right."

"Good. Now let's head inside for lunch," James said, muttering under his breath, "before Lily comes out here and chews all of us out and I'm stuck on the couch."

"What?"

"I was just saying we need to talk to you, Harry."

"About what?" he asked, running to catch up to James and Eddy after putting the broom away.

"About which school you want to go to. You're only a year away from eleven, and with Hogwarts not looking like it'll open any time soon, we have to apply for one."

"Oh… Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I know any schools besides Hogwarts."

James chuckled, scratching at his chin. "Well that's the magic of it all, because they knew you didn't and sent brochures for us to look at."

"Can I look too, Dad?" Eddy asked with puppy eyes.

"You can look at them after, because I need you to help me first."

"Really?" He asked excitedly, bouncing on his toes in anticipation. "With what?"

"It's with something only the bravest, smartest, and strongest can handle…" James began dramatically. "It's something Padfoot and even me struggle to handle, and you know how strong we are don't you?"

"Yeah! Tell me, already!"

"Well, I need to know first if your up for the challenge."

"I am!"

"But," James clutched at his chest, "I have to worn you it's not for the faint of heart."

"I can handle it! Tell me!"

"I need your specialized help… with… Rosie!"

As if on cue, the back door, which they had approached by this point, burst open and a small blur dashed out.

"Daddy!"

"Rosie!"

The little girl threw her arms out as she approached James, and he swiftly picked her up and twirled her around.

"Daa-d," Eddy whined. "What am I s'posed to help you with already." With arms crossed, Eddy pouted at being ignored.

"I need help with our sweet, little…Rosie!" James tickled the girl's side. She busted out in high-pitched laughter, squirming away from his hands.

Eddy groaned dramatically, cheeks puffed out like an angry puffskein.

"I'm five, Daddy. I'm not little," Rosie corrected, gasping for air.

"Right," James agreed in complete seriousness. "I need help with our sweet, not-so-little Rosie." He tickled her again, and glanced at Eddy who was completely unenthused.

"C'mon, Eddy, I just want you to keep Rosie entertained while mom and I talk with Harry. And maybe if you do a good job, we can get ice cream later," he bribed and the 7 year-old's eyes lit up.

"Ice cream! Ice cream!" Rosie chanted.

"Really? You promise?"

James nodded. "But only if you do a good job."

"I will! Let's go, Rosie!"

"Go where? I'm hungry!"

Eddy's faces scrunched up in dissatisfaction. James, wanting to avoid an argument, suggested, "Why don't we all eat lunch first—"

"Let's have a picnic!"

Rosie oohed at Eddy's suggestion. "Picnic! Let's have a picnic! And daddy can come—!"

"No, Daddy has to talk with Harry," James interjected.

But not to be deterred, Rosie continued, "Mommy can come—!"

"No, Mommy has to talk with Harry too."

Her lip started to tremble and James braved himself. "But Harry's gonna come, too—"

"No, Rosie. Harry has to talk with Mommy and Daddy."

She sniffed, and her eyes shimmered in what was sure to be crocodile tears.

"But-but—"

She had only just started to wail when Harry, hero that he was, said, "Don't cry, Rosie. I'll have a picnic with you and Eddy—as soon as I'm done talking to Mom and Dad."

She sniffled, reaching out her hand. "Pinky promise?"

Harry curled his pinky around her smaller one, nodding. "Pinky promise. So don't eat all of the food, okay?"

Appeased, Rosie wiped her face of her tears. "Okay! Let's get the picnic ready, Eddy!" James breathed a sigh of relief as he let her down.

Rosie grabbed Eddy's hand and dashed through the still open back door, screaming, "Mommy, me and Eddy and Harry are having a picnic!"

That, James mused, could have gone a lot worse.

He turned his attention to the last one standing, and lopsidedly grinned at the smile on Harry's face.

"Let's head on in, kiddo." He draped his arm over Harry's shoulder to guide him in. "Thanks for that, by the way. You're a lifesaver."

Harry preened under the praise, cheeks lightly coloring. "It's, uh, no problem. I like having picnics…"

James didn't respond, didn't feel the need to at the genuineness of Harry's expression.

By the time both arrived to the kitchen, Eddy, who appeared pastier than just minutes ago, was packing cups and utensils into a basket; Rosie was talking a mile a minute with a stuffed unicorn snuggled into her arms; and Lily was dutifully trying to put sunscreen on them.

"Rosie," Lily interrupted, "arms out, honey."

"—and I'm gonna make you a necklace, and daddy a necklace, and Harry a necklace, but Eddy can make his own necklace because I'll show him how."

"Mom, where's the blanket again?"

Lily glanced up, and her lips tilted upwards in amusement. "Eddy, you didn't rub it in all the way. You look like your wearing face powder." Immediately, the seven-year-old started scrubbing at his face with both hands— "Not so rough!" She pealed his hands away, massaging the paste into his skin for him. "You'll scratch your skin off. Gently, like this, alright?"

"Kay."

"The blanket is in the closet right next to the bathroom."

Eddy scampered out of the room, still rubbing his face.

"What color are your necklaces going to be, Rosie?"

The four-year-old's face lit up instantly. "I'm gonna make you a yellow one because the yellow flowers are the prettiest, I'm gonna make Daddy a red one because that's Daddy's favorite color and I'm gonna make Harry a blue one because—"

"Mom, is it the closet upstairs or downstairs?" Eddy yelled from who knows where in the house.

"—that's my favorite color."

"Upstairs! And next time let's use our inside voices, Eddy!" Lily yelled back and James snorted. But even so, he couldn't help but be mesmerized by his wife's ability to multitask with their children and divide her attention so perfectly.

"I bet Harry will love it, Rosie." Lily beamed to which the younger girl mimicked.

"All done?"

"All done."

"I found it!" Eddy bolted through the entranceway and shoved the blanket into the basket. "Ready, Rosie?"

"Yep!"

"Let's go, then!"

"But not too far from the house, Eddy. Alright?"

"I know, mom."

"Don't worry, Harry, we'll save you the biggest sandwich!" Rosie promised sweetly as she and Eddy were about to pass. Harry thanked her, his ever-present smile when he was with his siblings on display.

"Not if I eat it first!" Eddy teased mischievously, dashing out of the room.

"NO, EDDY! That's Harry sandwich! He's bigger than you!"

She chased him out of the house, and suddenly there was silence.

"I swear they get a sugar high just from the thought of sugar," James groaned collapsing into the nearest chair.

"Unless you actually snuck them sugar."

"Swear on the Marauders' good name I didn't."

Lily scoffed, "some word that is."

Unbeknownst to them, Harry stood wide-eyed beside the table, staring at all the moving brochures. "Is this really all the schools?"

"Well," Lily started, "I wouldn't say all but a lot certainly."

"I didn't even know this many schools existed. I really only ever hear about Hogwarts from you guys."

"Nonsense. Surely, you've heard of Beauxbatons? It's a school in France." Lily handed him a pamphlet decorated in sky blues with a grand chateau nestled between clouds. Harry shook his head in negative. "Durmstrang? Ranked Second on the main continent, after Beauxbatons?" This next pamphlet was a deep forest green with a golden, double-headed eagle plastered across the front.

At Harry's blank look, Lily dropped her head into her hands. "James," she said shakily.

He eyed her wearily as he plucked the Durmstrang pamphlet out Harry's hands with a whispered, "we won't be needing this. Only dark wizards go here."

"James…"

"Lily…?"

"We've failed him as parents."

James' eye twitched harshly. "You're being dramatic, Lily. Is it that time of the—"

The glare she leveled on James could've set him ablaze, and James wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Ilver…mony? That," Harry said hesitantly, thoughtfully as he picked up a blue brochure with unidentifiable animals moving across the front, "sounds familiar for some reason."

James snapped his fingers in recognition, happy for the distraction in what was sure to be a lecture from Lily. "That's the school Padfoot said his niece is transferring to!"

"Oh you mean Little Nymphadora?" Lily gushed. "I haven't seen her since before she began Hogwarts. What is she— 13? 14 now?"

James shrugged. "Sounds about right."

"Harry, you could go to Ilvermony. I don't know too much about it other than it's in North America, but I've heard it's similar to Hogwarts."

"More like a knock-off," James grumbled unintelligibly… or maybe not so unintelligibly as he thought if the icy glare Lily shot him was any indication.

James cleared his throat, turning towards Harry. "Ilvermony can't be that bad if Andromeda's letting her go. Maybe we should apply for it?"

"What do you think, Harry? I'm not sure you remember Nymphadora but I bet she remembers you, and she'd be able to help you over there," Lily reasoned.

Harry eyed the pamphlet, shrugging, "I don't mind—"

The fireplace in the living room roared to life.

"Honey!" A sing-song voice rang out from another room. "I'm hooome!"

James eye twitched as he pushed away from the table as his childhood friend walked through the passageway into the kitchen.

"Just who you do think you're calling honey, dog-breath?"

Sirius exhaled into his hand, testing the smell. "I'll have you know my breath is minty fresh. Here, smell!" He pounced on James, grabbing his face to breathe directly into it.

"Oh, no you don't! I'm not trying to die from toxic gas today, Padfoot!" He wrapped the wavy-haired man in headlock.

"Boys!" Lily commanded firmly, making all motions stop. "Not in the kitchen." Her words left no room for argument and James slowly released the other man, who began rubbing his neck.

"Lily!" Sirius greeted brightly. "As feisty as ever. You look lovely."

"Thank you, Sirius. You've been watching muggle sitcoms lately, I take it?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Really big in the U.S., thought I'd give them a chance." He removed his outer cloak, before quickly locking Harry, who had remained quiet the entire time, in a gentle headlock. "What's happening, Prongslet? Where's the excitement—the cheering—for me? I haven't seen you in five months and this is the kinda welcome I get?"

Harry grinned, twisting out of the headlock to take up a makeshift fighting stance.

"Hi Uncle Padfoot," Harry greeted. "Are you here for a rematch?"

A smirked graced Sirius' face as he adopted a fight stance as well.

"As if I could let the score rest at three to two in your favor. I'm gonna teach you why the name Sirius Black is not to be trifled with—"

"Boys." Both froze at the tone. "What did I just say?"

"Sorry, Mom." Both said… much to Lily's irritation.

"I'm not your mom, Sirius."

"But you sure do act like it," the man grumbled as he plopped down on a chair, causing James to snort. "Where's Eddy and Rosie? They're usually not far from you, Harry. And what's all this here?" He asked seeing the table covered in a variety of pamphlets. "Is Hogwarts still…?"

"Yeah," James confirmed. "No signs of opening soon. Eddy and Rosie are outside while we decide which schools to apply for."

"Merlin's balls. When Andy said she was having Dora transfer out I thought it was because of the threat, not..." he trailed off. "Did they ever say who—"

"Not now, Sirius." James interrupted with a pointed glance to Harry.

"Right, well, so… schools? See anything that catches your eye, Harry?"

Harry stared between the two of them with furrowed brows, but went along with the topic change. "We were looking at Ilvermony…"

"Ilvermony? You want to go a school with those guys? No! No way! I will not allow it!"

"What's wrong with Ilvermony?" Lily questioned confusedly. "Isn't that where Nymphadora is going?"

"Not if I had a say in the matter! Bit of a weird bunch, them. Lots of them, too. Loud—"

"You must've fit right in," Lily deadpanned.

"I did actually," Sirius agreed with a hand on chin. "Especially with this hot bird named Jennifer… or was it Jeanette?" He held his hands out, cupping only air. "Biggest set of—"

"Please spares us a retelling of your escapades," Lily begged to which Sirius shrugged as if to say 'your loss'.

"If not Ilvermony then where?" James wondered, in an attempt to divert the conversation.

"Beauxbatons, that's where!"

"Do I dare even ask why?" Lily muttered, fingers massaging the bridge of her nose.

"Harry, imagine this." Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry and gazed into a daydream only he could see. "You, lounging in botanical gardens on a country side, surrounded by multitudes of females of every color, size, and fantasy you could ever hope for—ow!"

"Don't you taint my son, Sirius Black," Lily glared.

"You don't have to be so violent." Sirius soothingly rubbed his head with a pout. "What do you think, Harry? Doesn't that sound absolutely amazing?"

Looking between Lily's obvious ire and Sirius eagerness, Harry hesitated. "Um…"

"Or," James began, drawing everyone's attention as he squeezed Harry's shoulder, "you could go to a flying school. Like this one." James held up the golden flyer from the Academy of Broom Flying.

"Flying school?" Harry's eyes lit up. "That sounds wicked!"

"Academy of Broom Flying?" Sirius echoed with a small sneer. "Who names a school Academy of Broom Flying? It takes the wonder out of it."

"It says they teach you how to fly and prepares you for sports like Broom Racing, Broomnastics… and Quidditch! Look Dad I'll be able to be a chaser like you," Harry beamed, pointing at the large words that continually changed color.

"Or," Sirius added, "you could be a keeper like your good, ole Uncle Padfoot. Went my whole career undefeated."

James eyebrow twitched at what should've been a father-son moment. "You played for all of a year. It makes more sense for Harry to take after his father, who was the best chaser Hogwarts had ever seen."

"Un-de-feat-ed," Sirius repeated with emphasis and a smirk as leaned back in the chair he occupied across from James. "Was that or wasn't that the year we won the Quidditch Cup? First time in 5 years might I add."

"Touché," James grumbled.

"And I distinctly remember even with the Quidditch Cup we lost the House Cup because you also lost us a record amount of points that year… before you were banned from Quidditch, might I add." Lily arched a brow and Sirius sniffed.

"Details, details," he dismissed.

"How did you get banned from Quidditch, Uncle Padfoot.

The gray-eyed man glanced at Lily's stony expression. "That, dear Prongslet, is not a tale I can divulge on fear of death from a red devil—"

"Harry! What's taking you so long. Rosie is—Uncle Padfoot!" Yelled an excited Eddy, who hopped onto the man to give him a hug. "I didn't know you were coming back today! How did your tournament go? Did you win? I bet you won! You won right?"

"It was a qualifier and of course I won!" He boasted. "What do you take me for, huh?"

"Uncle Paddy!" Rosie, who had just entered the kitchen hot on the trails of Eddy, pounced on Sirius. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Little Flower."

As the welcoming continued, James and Lily glanced at each other then to everyone's happy smiles, and instead of breaking it up, both relaxed, even knowing today wouldn't be the day for school discussions.

"Is everyone ready?" Lily called from the kitchen.

"Yeah!"

"Yep!"

Harry and Rosie replied simultaneously from the living room.

"Yeah, I'm com—" there was a loud thud and without even thinking, Harry dashed to and up the stairs in record time. "I'm okay!"

"Eddy! What happened?" Harry panted in concern, staring at the boy who laid halfway in the hallway and halfway in his room.

"I'm okay," he said again, rubbing a reddening knee. "Just these laces, is all." The laces laid tangled and untied, a definite culprit in Eddy's accident. "I swear I tied them, but I don't know what… Harry! I can tie my own shoe laces!" Eddy said indignantly, snatching his feet away.

"I know, but I want to teach you a trick." Slowly, Harry tied the laces with Eddy's reluctant eyes following. "Once you have them tied, tie them one more time for a double-knot. See?" He tugged on the loops, which didn't budge. "Now they won't come undone.

"Boys?" Lily call echoed from downstairs.

"We're coming!" Harry quickly stood up and held out a hand to Eddy, who was still admiring his shoes. "C'mon, Eddy. Before mom gets mad."

Eddy grabbed hold and Harry yanked him up. They both hurriedly ran down stairs to the fireplace.

"Are you both ready?" They nodded. "So I'm going to go with Rosie. Harry, you remember how this goes right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Eddy, you're going to floo with Harry—"

"But mom I know how to floo on my own," the small boy complained with a pout. "We've only floo'd about a hundred times."

"For my own peace of mind, please humor me and floo with Harry, Eddy. Okay?"

Eddy sighed dramatically. "Okay…"

"Thank you," she said with a hint of a smile, taking Rosie's hand. "Ready, Rosie?

The dark-haired girl bobbed her head up and down, unicorn in arm. "Where's daddy, mommy?"

"He's…" Lily stumbled. "He'll come a little later." She cleated her throat and focused on boys.

"Alright, you both go first just in case. And when you get there move out of the fireplace but don't go far. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry complied, walking inside the fireplace with Eddy following his lead. He grabbed a handful of floo powder on the way.

"Eddy…"

"We know, mom. I'm not going to go anywhere until you get there, okay? Can we go now?"

Lily exhaled slowly. "What am I going to do with you? Harry…?" She shot the ten-year old a meaningful glance.

"I know, mom. Don't worry."

She bit her lip nervously. "Alright then," she nodded. "Off you go."

Harry threw down the powder. "St. Mungo's Hospital!"

They disappeared in a green flame.

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries wasn't a dreary place with its white walls on white floors beneath white ceilings. It was bland, but it was bright, especially with the blurs of lime green rushing up and down hallways and in out of rooms. It was a whirl of hecticness and sickness that, while singularly wasn't dreary, was ultimately depressing because Harry knew that on just the other side of the walls, someone was dying.

Someone was grieving, like the sobbing lady clutching at the green robes of her Healer escort. Someone was grieving just like he would be grieving soon.

Because somewhere in this hospital, beyond the hospital chaos and the helpful facades of healers dragging people away, was his Grandmother dying, and Harry would rather be anywhere but here.

"Madam Potter is just this way." A healer guided them through twists and turns down a corridor before coming to a stop at a plain door with an opaque window. "The Dragon Pox makes her easily fatigued, so I suggest one at a time but no more than two to cut back on excitement."

"Is… is she contagious?" Eddy worried from behind their mom.

"Not any longer. Madam Potter is beyond that point, I'm afraid. The infectiousness has tampered, but it's very much incurable this far along."

"Oh…"

Lily cleared her throat, thanking the Healer in dismissal. "Who wants to go in first? Eddy?" He vehemently shook his head, but Harry didn't blame him. When Lily turned to him with the same questioning tone, Harry suddenly found the plain walls of St. Mungo's very interesting.

"Rosie?"

There was silence, then Rosie asked, "will you come with me, mommy?"

"Of course, Rosie," Lily smiled softly. She turned to Harry who stood beside her and Eddy who was slightly behind her. "We'll be right back out, alright? Don't go anywhere."

They both nodded and the two females entered the room.

"Do you think she's… dead?" Eddy asked, slowly inching closer to Harry until they were brushing arms.

"The Healer didn't say she was dead…"

"But what if she died just now."

Hardy shuddered at the idea. "She's not. Mom would've said something by now, don't you think?"

Eddy thought for a moment, brows furrowing before he relaxed. "I guess your right."

The hallway fell silent for a few minutes.

"What if she turned into a ghost though?"

"Grandmother would've had to… die first, Eddy. But she's still alive right now."

"Oh, yeah. You're right, Harry." The younger boy gripped his sleeve, breaking Harry's attention on the door (the door where just on the other side someone, who he could remember laughing and smiling and playing with him when he was younger, lay helpless and hopeless and dying, and Harry really didn't want to be here—)

"Do you really think she's not contagious? I don't want to catch dragon pox."

Harry didn't want to become infected either, but that wasn't the reason he didn't want to be here.

"The healers wouldn't let us go in if she were contagious, Eddy. Mom wouldn't go in either."

"Harry."

Said boy sighed inaudibly.

"You'll… you'll come in with me, won't you?"

Harry peered down at Eddy's hopeful eyes, before ruffling the younger boy's hair. "You bet." Because honestly, Harry didn't want to enter alone either.

Not long after, the door silently glided open to reveal a somber Lily and a red-eyed Rosie. "I don't want grandmother to die, mommy."

"Me neither, honey." Lily whispered. "Me neither."

Harry's gut knotted with anticipation, knowing what was coming next as Lily looked over the shoulder of the crying Rosie, and he could feel his eyes starting to burn.

"Harry, Eddy? You guys should go in before she's too tired…"

Eddy grabbed Harry's hand, and he could feel his little brother trembling. Knowing he had to be brave for the both of them, Harry returned the squeeze and guided both through the doorway.

The other side of the wall… wasn't horrible. It was bright from the large window next to the bedside and wasn't nearly as dark and ominous as Harry thought it would be.

"Eddy, Harry," his grandmother greeted brightly and for as sick as she looked, with boils speckled on her face and her skin faintly colored green like the Healers robes, she didn't sound sick.

Eddy shuffled backwards, pressing up against the door with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh, Eddy," she said quietly. "I'm… I know I look ghastly—not how you're used to seeing me, am I?

"It—it sounds like you, grandmother. But you don't look like you." Eddy said shakily, still with his eyes firmly closed. "You look…"

"Like a dragon?" She finished with a slight smile. He nodded vigorously. "I suppose Dragon Pox is an apt name then. What do you say, Harry?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to respond.

She gazed between the two of them, neither of whom have moved.

"How have you both been?" Silence. Her hands folded around themselves as she turned toward the window. "I'm sorry I missed your birthdays, but I hope you received your gifts?"

Harry nodded slowly, jerkily.

"Good, good. I hope you liked it. It's been so long since I've had to shop for young boys your age. Not since your father, in fact. How old are you boys now? 16? 23?" She smiled mischievously.

"No, grandmother I'm 7!"

"I'm t-en." Harry's voice cracked.

She hummed, smoothening out the blankets laid on top of her as her eyes focused on the seven-year-old. "Eddy, dear. I would never force you, but I would just love to see your beautiful eyes. You've always had such the prettiest shade of hazel eyes I've ever seen."

"Grandmother, boys aren't pretty," he corrected, but spread his fingers apart to peek through the gaps. He gulped audibly.

"Handsome, then. The handsomest shade of hazel I've ever seen. Even more than your fathers." Her expression was so familiar and happy and so Grandmother that Harry wasn't surprised when Eddy finally stepped closer with his eyes wide open.

He was still behind Harry, but the progress seemed to cheer her up either way.

"My, you've gotten so big! You're probably taller than me now." Eddy blushed.

"I'm still shorter than Harry, Grandmother."

"You'll catch up. Just give it a little time," she encouraged before turning to Harry. "And you. Why, I can remember when you were just this big." She placed her arms a small distance apart. "I can remember when you were both this big."

"That's not very big, Grandmother," Eddy pointed out and she chuckled.

"Not very big at all," she agreed. "You're terribly quiet today—" she broke out into coughs, and although she regained herself quickly, Harry's heart stopped. "—Harry."

"Are you… Okay, Grandmother?"

She delicately dabbed her mouth with a cloth. "Here I am in St. Mungo's, sick as a dragon, barely able to move—"

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"—surrounded by family—my two very handsome grandsons, who I absolutely treasure—and you ask if I'm just okay? Harry, dear. I'm wonderful. If this is the way I have to leave this world, I couldn't ask for anything better than to see your precious faces one last time."

It wasn't what she said that caused Harry to break into tears, it was the finality she said it with.

Somehow, Harry knew this would be his last time seeing her.

"Don't cry, little one." Harry could feel his little brother grab his hand in support. "I've lived a full life. I've experienced so many wonders in this world, and I've gotten the chance to watch you, Eddy and Rosie grow from tiny infants to who you are today. I'm grateful, truly grateful, for this little time I've had with you all, but it's time for me to join your grandfather. So it's not a sad thing, Harry, that's why I'm not sad. It's a reunion."

But Harry couldn't agree with her, because no matter how she explained it, in this moment, he was sad. "But I don't want you to die, Grandmother," he echoed Rosie's words from earlier. "I want you to stay here with us."

"For you, Harry, you don't have the slightest inkling of how much I wish I could stay. I can count the number of times you've cried on one hand, and it breaks my heart that I'm causing this—"

She sneezed and a spark of electricity zipped across her nose and a clap of thunder reverberated around the room. Eddy scrambled backwards, searching for the door while Harry remained rooted to the floor, frozen as he stared into glowing, red eyes.

An explosion rocked the foundations of the house. The windows imploded, shattered to tiny pieces that scattered on the floors. His door burst open and Harry scrambled to sit up as his Grandmother rushed into the room.

"Grandmo—!"

She hushed him frantically, abruptly, and dragged him to the door. "We need to leave immedi—"

Something crashed to the ground on the other side of the wall cutting her off.

"...it's not a coincidence..."

Harry's heart beat erratically as he realized just who's room that was. "Eddy—!"

"No, Harry!" She whispered harshly simultaneously covering his mouth and locking him in an iron grip to prevent him from leaving. "No. If we leave now…"

"…James…"

"Stand aside," A voice, high-pitched and frightening, hissed menacingly. "Stand aside and give me the child."

There was hacking, and then his grandfathers voice, "Is this how far you've fallen, Tom Riddle—?"

"Do NOT call me by that muggle's name! Step aside, you foolish man! Is this half-blood trash worth your life?!"

"…It's not, Lily!"

"You," his grandfather rasped, "are a greater fool than I if you believe I will allow you to murder MY grandson— my blood!"

Something crashed into the wall, rumbling the structure from the force of the collision. His grandfather groaned.

"Grand—!"

"…they both died of the same incurable strand…!"

"Shh, Harry. Shh." She cradled him, sliding to the floor as she leaned against the door to his room. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay." She petted his head and rocked them back and forth. One hand was placed delicately over his ear, while she pressed his other ear into her chest.

Her heart beat faster than his but even still, she murmured, "Grandfather is going to protect us."

"…please, not in front of…"

"You will not have my blood, Tom Riddle. You will not have my grandson! I am old, but I am not feeble!" His grandfather's voice was strained despite the words.

"Then I will end you! And you will regret this," was the dark promise, "when your laying dead! Avada—!"

"He killed my mother!"

"NO!"

"Harry!" Arms encircled him and Harry struggled. "Harry, it's me! You recognize me don't you? Shh, it's okay."

"Everything is going to be okay," the voice of his grandmother whispered, and Harry tensed in his mother's arms.

"Where's," he began raspy, "where's grandmother. We were… me and Eddy were with her and-and—"

Lily cradled him closer. "Yesterday… Grandmother passed away, Harry."

"B-b-but she was just—!" Harry looked to his silent father, who was turned away and trembling, and back to his mother. In his heart, he knew his mother spoke the truth, but Harry didn't want to believe it.

Both pairs of emerald eyes glistened as they stared at each other. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry couldn't control his tears, and all he could hear was the twisted echoes of his father and his grandmother saying:

"He killed my mother!"

"Everything is going to be okay."

When the funeral was held, it was a quiet affair – family only. It didn't rain, there wasn't even a cloud in the sky and it was actually one of the better days August weather had to offer, but Harry was numb to it all. Numb to the fact his grandmother's ashes laid buried beneath the massive oak tree, beside his grandfather. And he stood there long after everyone retreated inside Potter Manor for comforts and refreshments.

"I'm sorry for your loss," a graying man with streaks of blond in his hair said gravelly in an accented voice. He was tall, had a heavy build and piecing blue eyes. "I only met her a handful of times, but she was a good woman."

At Harry's silence the man held out a hand.

"I'm Demetrius Sica. We've never met but I'm your grandmother's sister's husband. You're Harry, right?

Harry hesitantly nodded.

"Your Grandmother would write us – my wife and I – letters occasionally about you. About Edward and Primrose, too. You could tell even in her letters she loved you all very much.

Harry returned his gaze to the gravestone, throat uncomfortably tight.

"It's truly sad. She had almost made it, too."

The ten-year old's brow furrowed and although he wasn't feeling talkative, he asked, "almost made it to what?"

Blue eyes pierced through Harry's soul. "Usually in elderly couples, when one dies, the other follows shortly after – within months to a couple years. Euphemia made it almost to the sixth year of Fleamont's unfortunate passing," the man revealed casually.

Harry's jaw tightened but he remained silent. There was nothing to say to that.

"Do you remember that night he died?" The man asked suddenly.

Harry whipped around, eyes wide and hardly able to breath.

"You were only four when it happened so you should—Ah," he hummed. "You do."

Harry wanted to say something – anything – but the words were stuck. His voice was stuck.

He was stuck.

"Everything is going to be okay."

"I can see the panic in your eyes. I can see the pain of what happened." He stepped closer, lowering so he could whisper in Harry's ear.

"Did you feel helpless?"

"Stop…" he rasped.

"Did you feel weak as you watched him die?"

"Please… stop."

"Did you cry like this when he turned his wand on Edward? How did he say it?"

"Stop. Stop. Stop," he chanted, squeezing his eyes shut at the unbidden memories. Wind picked up around Harry and he pushed away from Demetrius Sica. He scrabbled backwards, smashing his hands to his ears to no avail.

"Was it soft?" He asked before hissing, "Avada Kedav—!"

"No!" Part of the large oak tree spilt and exploded with a loud BANG! Thousands of tiny wood chips went flying. "Stop it! Stop it!" he demanded, pushing himself further back on all fours before huddling into a sitting fetal position.

Harry could hear the man lumber closer, steadily. Slowly. "You don't have to be afraid, Harry. You don't have to be sad or weak anymore." The man placed a surprisingly gentle hand on the crown of his head. Bleary green eyes slid open to a card directly in front of his face. "If you're tired of being weak and watching those you care about die around you, I will train you. You just have to know where to find me."

He steadily held the card out until Harry reached for it shakily. Their eyes locked and Harry felt a building pressure in his head. Not painful but uncomfortable.

The man released the card and promised, "I will make you stronger and you won't have to fear the Dark any longer."

Then, he disappeared in a loud CRACK!

"Durmstrang?" James questioned incredulously, crumpling the green pamphlet he could've sworn he'd thrown in the bin weeks ago. "You want to go to Durmstrang?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

James waved the pamphlet back forth wildly, pacing the kitchen floor. "Of all the schools, you want to go to Durmstrang? Durmstrang?"

Once more, Harry gave a confident affirmative.

"Bloody hell—!"

"James!" Lily clipped from her spot at the table beside Harry.

"—Why?"

"James, calm down." She tenderly grabbed his arm as he walked past her for the dozenth time, halting him in his place.

"I… I want to be stronger," he faltered.

"You can be strong at any other school. Durmstrang isn't the only school. In fact, its second to Beauxbatons, right Lily?"

She agreed gingerly. "Yes…"

"So you can get stronger at Beauxbatons! And be even stronger than you would be going to Durmstrang."

James face was slightly flushed, and he had begun pacing again, running a hand through his wild hair.

"… I can't, Dad. I can't go to Beauxbatons. I have to go to Durmstrang."

"Why!" He whirled around with a yell. "Do you know what that school is known for? Do you?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Dueling, and they teach you about some of the dark arts—

"So if you know that, why in the name of bloody Merlin would you want to go to a Dark school? Anywhere!" James suggested loudly. "Anywhere would be better than there!"

"You don't understand," Harry whispered.

"Then make me understand! Because—!"

"I have to go to Durmstrang!" Harry atypically shouted, spinning around to face James, who was taken aback. "I have to go so I can learn about all types of magic, especially the Dark Arts. Because if I don't… if I don't, I can't protect Eddy! I can't protect Rosie… or you… or mom. And if he – he – He comes again, Eddy will die just like grandfather!" he finished hoarsely. "Just like Grandmother."

James seemed to lose steam at those words and Lily choked on a gasp as she held back tears. "Harry… honey, that monster isn't coming back. He died that night."

"You don't have to worry about things like that, son. Your only worry should be waiting for the next model of brooms to come out and choosing a better school than Durmstrang—"

"Don't you understand?!" Harry burst, his tone slightly pleading and slightly hysteric. "Don't you understand you're not always around?! And that you're not gonna always be around? You're not gonna be here forever, Dad! I have to go to Durmstrang. I have to, please."

"I – I can't deal with this right now."

In quick steps, James strode out of the room. Harry's green eyes turned downcast, but he felt his mother stand and plant a kiss on his forehead.

"I'll talk to him, Harry," she promised before following in James footsteps.

Lily snuggled into her robe and tightened it around her arms as she exited the house. The year was quickly approaching autumn, so nights were cool at the Potter House.

James was perched on the stairs that led to the cement walkway, hands threaded through his hair. He shifted, making brief eye contact with Lily who quietly took a seat at his side. She lowered her head until it rested comfortably on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his.

"James…"

"Lily, I can't… I can't right now," he pleaded.

"Can't or won't? Because to me it sounds like you won't… ever, if you can help it."

He yanked on his hair and his teeth clenched making his sharp jaw bone even more pronounced.

"My mom died not even a month by a dead man I can't even have the satisfaction of sending to Azkaban. I buried her not two weeks ago. I think I'm entitled to some time to process everything."

Lily squeezed his arm comfortingly. "And I'm not saying you aren't—"

"Then let me have some time." He ripped his hands from his head and stood abruptly, walking quickly down the pathway to leave the property. The stairs creaked under his heavy stomps. "And before you ask again, I don't know how much time. I wish I did. Really, I do so you could get off my back—"

"Don't you dare," Lily demanded, racing toward him. Lightly panting, she latched onto his forearm, stopping him in his place. "Don't you dare take this out on me as if you're the only one suffering, because let me tell you something, James Potter: believe it or not, you're not the only one suffering."

She stepped in front of him and green met hazel in an intense stare.

"Inside that house – yeah, that house you just stormed out of – we have three children who loved Euphemia just as much as you. We have three children who are mourning just like you and goddammit, James! They need their father! They need you," she angrily jabbed him in the chest and he wrapped his hand around the dainty digit.

"I know—"

"No!" She snatched her hand back and sobbed. "Listen! Just listen, because you can't just stop being their father when the mood strikes you. You're about ten years too late for that. I know you're hurting, James. I know you will be for a while. I've been where you are so I understand, and I'm not expecting you to pretend like nothing's happened and that you're not hurting when you are. But when our kids – our son – comes to you laying his heart out about his problems and fears, you don't get to just walk away. Not when he needs you."

Lily whipped around, unwilling to look at James and wiping her tears. There was silence besides her occasional sniffles, and he stared into the darkness toward their small abode.

"I'm sorry…" His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"You're one of them," James admitted, stepping closer to rest his head on her shoulder, hugging her from behind. "I know I've been… short tempered lately and that this," he made a small gesture to nothing in particular, "hasn't been easy on you."

"It hasn't been easy for anyone."

"It's been difficult." James took a shuddering breath. "At every turn, I feel as if my family is being picked off one by one by the Dark and every time—every time, Lily," he hugged her tighter, "I'm too late to stop it. They killed my father and mother and nearly killed Eddy and Harry." He released her suddenly and stepped back, prompting her to turn around. He was too ashamed to look her in the eyes.

"You know that's not your fault—"

"I know, but knowing doesn't stop me from thinking how it could've been all of them we were burying that night. And I don't want any of you guys around that—around any of that dark arts because it's only a matter of time before…"

"James," she grabbed his hand, waiting for him to direct his gaze to her before continuing. "It's only a matter of time before what?"

He slowly raised his hand to cup her face. "It's like Harry said. It's only a matter of time before one of these dark wizards come for you or one of the kids. And I'll be too late, once again." He brushed away her silent tears. "I want to keep you all here with me, where we can be safe forever, but I know I can't. I knew eventually Harry – and sooner or later Eddy and Rosie – would have to leave for school because Merlin knows I can't teach, but… if Harry goes to Durmstrang he will be getting closer to those Dark Wizards. No matter what they teach him over there it's not worth—!"

"Have you listened to him James?" She stepped out of reach and wound her arms around herself.

"Ye—"

"No. Have you really listened to him? Because what I heard in that kitchen wasn't listening. It was plain denial, and I bet beyond knowing Harry wants to go to Durmstrang, you didn't get much else from that conversation."

"That's not true! Lily, I know Harry wants to get stronger, but there are so many other not dark places to accomplish that!"

"Listen to yourself!" Her long, auburn hair grazed his cheeks as she whipped around, frustration clear on her face. "Listen to what's coming out of your own mouth if you're not going to listen to anyone else. All you care about is that this school is known for teaching some dark material and not that this school isn't actually dark. Hogwarts alone has produced more Dark Lords than Durmstrang, but you're choosing to ignore that fact!"

"Do – do you want him to go there?" James asked in shock.

"I didn't say that, but I have listened to him. I have listened to his wants and fears and him worrying over your approval for the last two weeks. I've listened to his research and his reasonings because even though he's ten, Harry is a smart boy. I can't say Durmstrang is the onlyright choice, but I can't say it's wrong either—"

"What? That school hates people like you, Lily. Completely loathes anything to do with muggles. Durmstrang hates muggleborns so much they don't even allow second gens in! And you say you're 'not against' that place? I can't believe you actually want him to go to a dark school where they hate..." James accused stock-still in disbelief, too shocked to even finish the statement.

"That's not what I said, James, and you know it. I don't want that. How could I ever want Harry to go somewhere they despise everything I stand for? I absolutely abhor the prejudice of the Wizarding world, but no matter where I go, even if I were to go to the edges of Antarctica, the stigma of being a muggleborn would follow me." Her voice was steadily rising in volume. "It will follow every muggleborn everywhere they go and I'm sorry I can't change that! I can't change how people view and judge muggleborns and half-bloods and any thing that doesn't have a Wizarding pedigree of at least a thousand years! I wish I could, but I can't. And no matter where Harry attends, even if it could have been Hogwarts, he would have been exposed to the 'pureblood' prejudices. Trust me, I would know. And I know you know it too, because you've seen it happen once..."

"I know…" James whispered.

"You've seen how ugly it can be, but unfortunately we can't protect Harry from that. We can't protect any of them from that."

"But we can try—"

"That will only prevent the inevitable."

"But what if he…! What if they…!" He stammered in frustration.

In four steps, she was encircling his waist and laying her head against his chest. "There are a thousand what ifs, but James?" She peered upward into his weary, hazel eyes. "You know Harry. You probably know him better than anyone. He'll be fine."

At his skeptical expression, she continued. "He's smart and he's strong – just like all of our kids – but out of him, Eddy, and Rosie, it's crazy you don't see that he's just like you."

"He is?"

Lily nodded, humming positively. "Minus the pranking – because Harry's much more mature than that—"

"Funny."

"—it's like watching a mini-you walking around. Loyal, courageous, kind, compassionate… and protective, just like you except with his own little Harry-eccentricities."

James smiled crookedly, bringing his own arms around Lily. "Keep going. I'm sure those can't be all of my good traits."

Lily shook her head and squeezed a little tighter. "No."

"Why not? It was just starting to get good."

"Because I guarantee Harry is still at the table, where we left him, waiting for you." She released him from her arms and hooked her hand onto his bicep to gently lead him towards the house.

James looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Do you think so?"

"I'm certain. All he's been worried about since he decided he wanted to go to Durmstrang was your approval, because… if there's one thing Harry fears, it's disappointing you."

"I'm not disappointed, I just—"

"I know, James," she interrupted, climbing up the steps with him by her side. "And it's time you told him that."