James Potter was beyond stressed. The latest meeting with the Order of the Phoenix did not bode well. The reports given were grim at best. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were exerting their power on the magical community of Britain more and more with each coming day. The odd report also suggested they were branching out into mainland Europe as well.
He passed by a house whose lights were all extinguished and saw a mostly-distinct reflection of himself in the window. He'd transfigured all of his distinct features before he left the Headquarters. His normally messy and shaggy black hair was a paling blonde head of short, receding hair. His hazel eyes were a dull grey, while patchy, uneven pale stubble graced a pudgy and unspectacular face. He walked through the gentle flurry of snow to the end of the road before he turned on the spot and appeared on the doorstep to the safe house he and Lily were living in for this spell. He resisted every urge to hurry inside and wearily opened the door as if he were simply coming home from a late night of work and not making a hasty entrance to avoid being spotted by potential Death Eaters watching.
It wasn't until he was past the foyer that he took his wand out and undid the physical alternations he'd made as he entered the living room, where Lily sat cross-legged on the floor with their infant son, reading a passage from one of her old Potions textbooks.
"Still trying to turn Harry into a Potions prodigy like you?" James inquired as he set his coat over the back of one of the recliners in the room, which earned a disapproving look from his wife. He kicked himself mentally as he waved his wand quickly, his jacket floating over to the rack and hanging up neatly.
Lily nodded approvingly before she finally answered him.
"I was just reading Professor Dumbledore's thesis about the uses of Dragon's Blood," she explained.
James couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Well, I don't think Harry's interested in Potions, love. He loves Quidditch, right?" he asked, crouching down in front of Harry and tickling his stomach lightly, causing Harry to coo in delight.
"I just know he's going to be a prodigy on a broom," James added proudly. "I think Sirius was looking at getting him a toy broom for Christmas."
"No," Lily denied adamantly. "Harry is not going to be on one of those infernal things until he's at least eight."
"Lils, it's just a toy broom," James argued half-heartedly. "It wouldn't go more than a foot off the ground."
"Oh, I know it won't, it's the speed that worries me!" she protested. "Those can still go quite fast! He's probably going to end up taking out the cat or something!"
A few feet away, the cat perked its head up in alarm.
"Listen, can we just not argue about this tonight?" James asked wearily, plopping down beside his wife and scooping Harry up in his arms.
"The reports were that bad?" Lily prompted.
"Worse," James provided. "Let's not let that put a damper on things, though. It's Christmas Eve, and I get to spend it with my beautiful wife and handsome future Quidditch star of a son," he proclaimed, giving them each a kiss on the cheek.
"James-" Lily began exasperatedly.
"Don't ruin the moment, Lils," James interrupted, pulling her to him and holding her tenderly. They both basked in the lovely family moment.
Suddenly, Harry was the one to break the silence.
"Qui'ich!" he shouted.
James' eyes lit up at his son's choice of first word, whereas Lily simply buried her head in her hands.