Prologue: Elizabeth Ronald-James Potter
Messy black hair from her father, brown eyes from her mother… I don't see how anyone is surprised; those Potter men always pass on their notorious hair to their offspring. Besides their surprise over the black hair instead of red, she is exactly what Harry and Ginny were expecting. I can't help the feeling of deja'vu that tends to creep up on me whenever I'm with them; Harry unwittingly mimics James' pose, with his right arm around Ginny' shoulder and his left pushing aside a stray hair on Lizzy's small face… the same action I walked in on when I came to see Lily and James way back when Harry was born. I can only hope and pray that this is the last similarity I will see between the two young couples; Harry deserves a long, happy life with his wife and new baby girl.
I know that with his childhood, Harry would never let his own child grow up an orphan, so I wasn't surprised when he made Lizzy's godmother and I promise that if he has to break his promise to be there for Lizzy forever, that we will take care of her. Most of our friends think he's being paranoid, but I understand he's just being careful. The war may be over but for the boy-who-lived, fate is not done fucking with his life. He and I have lost so much, he lost his brother, just like I lost James, we both grew up without love, found it, and then had it torn away from us by death. He puts on a strong face for Ginny and I know his pain will lessen in time with the help of his loving friends and growing family, but right now I can see the pain in his eyes whenever he has dinner with her family, when he realizes that his brother isn't eating there with him.
Ron, the man who should be standing here with his arm around Lizzy's godmother, but isn't. The man who should be telling Hermione that he'll be glad to help her become a real mother, but isn't. The man who should be here congratulating his sister and best friend, but isn't. The man who should be alive, but isn't. Another death Voldemort had to answer for. It's been six months since Voldemort was defeated, four months since a loose death eater murdered Ron, two months since the last death eaters were finally accounted for and the ministry declared the threat officially over, and now Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, is a father. The Order has dissolved into a close group of friends, most of whom, with the exception of Harry, Hermione, and myself, have easily fallen into normal lives. Why haven't we? Well, we've tried, but we know fate is not done with us yet, it is collective sense of foreboding that we should not take our current happiness for granted. Myself, I've escaped death too many times, to be so naive to think that death isn't out to get me. I just hope that Death will take his manic grudge out on me, instead of another person I love.