The Potter's

So, I don't own Harry Potter or the Chronicles of Narnia...Damn.

Thanks to those who have followed, favored and/or reviewed.

I had some free time today from my school work, so here's the next chapter.

Previously...

When they were Pevensie's, not Potter's.

If only she had stayed a moment longer.

She would have seen the shadow of a good but untamed lion.

And he would have told her stories of her lost life.

20 December, 1990

There were times where Harry felt like the odd one out of his family.

The 10-year-old boy's seen walking through Professor Slughorn's big, old manor. He didn't want to go with him to pick up his older siblings.

"Why not, Harry?" Slughorn had asked him earlier.

"I don't know," Harry had lied. He wanted some time for himself. He wanted the chance to think about the secret that his siblings and Slughorn were keeping from him. About his scar and why it was even a secret in the first place.

He knew that they were going to tell him after Christmas, they told him so right before they left for the station.

He felt excited about learning the true origin of his scar, but he also felt bad about being excited. He sometimes saw the looks that his siblings had whenever they looked at it. Peter, Susan, and Lucy would always look worried, while Edmund hid his emotions. He couldn't even bring up having a headache without his siblings looking at his scar.

He knew there was a story behind his scar, but no one ever spoke it.

It was why he stopped liking Lucy's odd stories. Every morning she'd have a new one, and Peter and Susan would both cast worried glances at her while Edmund merely shrugged and told Lucy that it was a good story. Harry, in all honesty, found her stories confusing.

According to Peter, Lucy had been telling her stories ever since she could talk.

Harry was seen inside Lucy's room. It was slightly unorganized, but none other less clean. On the walls, the only decorations in place were Lucy's paintings. He saw the one with the lamp-post, next to it was another painting of the girl. She was still at the lamp-post, wearing the same clothing, only this time she was with a man-like creature who had very hairy legs and funny looking ears. He didn't remember what the creature's name was, only that he was a friendly fawn. Whatever that meant. The fawn was carrying an umbrella and a few packages. It was a funny painting, in Harry's opinion.

There was another painting that took up most of the wall adjacent to the door. There were four thrones, with four people on it. Harry couldn't really tell what the four people looked like, only that two were male and two female. There was more focus on the magnificent looking lion that stood in front of the thrones. There were few more paintings on the wall, but none that caught Harry's attention that much.

Though, the painting of the four crowns, two swords, the horn, bow and arrow, dagger, and what appeared to be a vial of some sort of potion was probably the most detailed thing Harry had ever seen. They looked more realistic in comparison to the rest of Lucy's beautiful paintings.

Edmund's room was vastly different in comparison to Lucy's. It was the only room Harry hadn't ever entered. He had been in Peter's room, which was as messy as it was clean, as well as Susan's room, which didn't even have a flick of dust anywhere. He spent more time in Lucy's room since that's where she normally was, painting her strange paintings, and talking to her even stranger mouse. He never really thought of going into Edmund's room until this very moment.

Whereas Lucy's room had a light paint on the walls, Edmund's was dark. Not extremely dark though, just dark enough to make the room feel cold. He had a bookshelf in his room, which was filled completely with books he no doubt had already read. There were also books on his desk, though they weren't as organized as Harry expected. He saw Edmund's silver torch hiding behind the stack of books, distantly remembering in a letter that he had forgotten it. Harry found that odd, why would he need a torch when he could just use his wand if he needed a light? Especially as old as the torch he had. It had come with the house, the old and rusted but still silver torch. There was even initials scratched at the bottom end of the torch, E.P., which Harry found funny. Someone with the same initials as Edmund had left their torch and eventually was taken by a boy with the same letters.

For some reason, Harry looked under his brother's bed. The only things under there were an old pair of shoes and a few leather bounded sketchbooks. That was when Harry remembered that, like Lucy, Edmund was good at drawing and painting as well, though he didn't paint his walls with fairy tales.

Grabbing the one on top, Harry opened the book and saw the first drawing.

It was a photo of a boy dressed up as a knight. The boy looked young but older than Harry. His hair was dark and he had a split lip. He was wielding a sword, which he had brought down on what appeared to be a long, crystalized wand. A woman dressed in the mane of a lion was holding the wand in one hand, a sword in the other. Tiny pieces of the broken wand appeared in the drawing, as well as an odd sort of pattern of shading. Was it representing some sort of light?

Harry had to tear his eyes away from the picture. He turned the page and saw the same boy. He was on the ground, bleeding if Harry was looking at the shading correctly. His eyes were closed shut and his features were very realistic. He wore a lion on his tunic, and he looked to be in pain. One arm was stretched out away from his body, the other near the bloody part of his abdomen. He was alone and in pain.

After carefully putting the book back in its place, Harry left Edmund's room. He didn't find Edmund's drawings abnormal. If anything, they were the kind of drawings Edmund would do. He didn't know that Edmund had odd dreams, nor did he know about Peter and Susan's dreams. Only Lucy's, since she was so open with them.

He ended up back in his room, starting to regret not going with Slughorn. Harry never knew that it could possibly be this boring being all by himself in such a big house.

His room was big, like his siblings were. The wall was a few shades lighter than Edmund's room, and a few shades darker than Lucy's. He shared the same dark oak flooring. His walls were mostly barren, sans a few childish drawings and a photo of his family that had been taken shortly before his parents died.

Harry looked at the photo for what could only be the millionth time.

His Mum was holding him in her arms. Her dark red hair was tousled, but otherwise more kept in comparison to her husband. She was smiling at the camera, as was his baby self, who had no lightning-bolt scar and a nearly toothless grin. He had a few baby teeth at that point. His jet black hair was just as messy as his father, who was sitting near his mother. On his shoulders was a little redhead with bright green eyes, grinning happily as though she had just been laughing at the camera. Lucy, it was easy to tell that it was her just based on her wide grin. Susan was sitting on James lap, her red hair in a delicate braid, a carefree smile on her face. In between, them all was Peter and Edmund. Peter's red hair was neatly combed, though it had been clear that he had messed with it, and he had the same mischevious smile as his father. Edmund, on the other hand, had the same messy black hair as Harry and their father, only his was slightly more tamed. He was even smiling, he had their mother's witty but kind smile.

It was a muggle photo, so they all didn't move in it. For once, Harry was okay with that. Whoever took the photo captured the image at the perfect time.

He was so entrapped by the photo that he didn't hear the front door open.

"Harry? Where are you?"

30 December, 1990

It had been five days after Christmas when Harry was called.

Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy were waiting for him in Susan's room. It was the most organized room out of the Potter siblings. Her walls were light, the furniture was a shade lighter in comparison to Lucy's. Her walls held awards and letters she had received from Hogwarts. On her bedside table was a framed photo of the five Potter siblings at King's Cross Station. All of the Potter's but Harry were dressed in their school robes. It had been a Christmas gift from Slughorn, who had taken the photo.

When Harry entered his older sister's room, Peter and Lucy were sitting on Susan's bed, Edmund was leaning against the wall close to it, and Susan was sitting at her vanity.

"We've tortured you enough, haven't we?" Susan questions after Harry sits down at Susan's spotless desk.

"I wouldn't say torture, but that seems to be close enough."

Peter lightly smirks before frowning solemnly. "You know how Mum and Dad died, don't you Harry?"

Harry nodded, frowning. "Voldemort killed them."

Only Susan flinches at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

Peter nodded, a flash of anger and grief appearing on his face before covering it up completely. "Yes, he killed them. Do you know where?"

Harry frowned in confusion. "In our old home. Why's that important?"

Peter sighs. "Dad died in the sitting room, but Mum...she died in your nursery."

Edmund started talking before Harry could fully take in what he just heard. "Voldemort killed Dad first. He had been by the stairs." A rare flicker of emotion crossed Edmund's face. "He didn't have his wand on him when Voldemort killed him. Mum didn't have hers either if I remember correctly." He shook his head as he looked down. "He had hidden Lucy and me in the wardrobe he was supposed to take down."

"Peter and I were hiding in his room," Susan told her youngest brother. "He...He told Mum to get out of the way. She refused and he killed her."

Harry frowned. "What did he do next?"

He doesn't hear an answer for what he could only describe as a decade.

"There were three flashes of green," Lucy said quietly, speaking for the first time. She sounded upset, her eyes threatening to spill out with tears. "The first two killed our parents." She reached over, lightly trailing her thumb over Harry's scar. "The third one hit you here."

Harry saw himself in Susan's mirror. He ignored everything but the scar on his forehead.

"How am I still alive?" Harry asked, asking no one in particular.

"We don't know the exact cause," Peter said, looking at his little brother. "Only that something far more powerful protected you against the Killing Curse."

"Then why did Mum die?" Harry demanded, emotion flooding his voice without his consent. "She was in the room with me. Wouldn't-Wouldn't have whatever it was protecting her too?"

"Maybe because she was in the room with you," Edmund suggested, a thoughtful look settling on his freckled face. "She was the only one in there with you and him. He gave her the opportunity to move, but she didn't." He looked at Harry, who hadn't looked away from his scar yet. "She chose to die in order to give you a chance at life."

Peter quietly forced Harry to look at him. He could see the tears in his brother's eyes, so Peter hugged his little brother. "You survived something no one else has before."

"Is that why people call me the Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry asked, looking up at Peter, who nodded.

"Where did you hear about that?" The 16-year-old questioned.

"At the station earlier this year," Harry admitted. "A red-haired lady was talking about me to someone else. I guess one of them had seen one of you guys because they kept on asking where I was at."

Peter scowled. "People don't know when to mind their own business, Harry. Unfortunately, that's how it's going to be for you in the Wizarding World. They don't care that you're just a kid. Had we not of just told you, they no doubt would try themselves with their own incorrect version."

"We didn't know when it was the right time to tell you, Harry," Susan said, lightly ruffling up her brother's hair, something she had never done, she had always tried to tame it. "We should have told you sooner, but we knew that you wouldn't have been ready to hear it when Peter started school."

Harry knew that his sister wasn't wrong. "At least you lot told me." He gave a half-hearted, but grateful smile.

Lucy was the first one to hug him, followed by Susan, then Edmund and Peter.

For once, Harry didn't feel odd in his family of five underaged wizards.

So, what do you think?

I know there might be some mistakes, so I apologize.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure when I will be uploading the next chapter for this story. I do know that there's no way I'm going to abandon this story though. I'll try to have the next chapter up in a few weeks though.

Please, review, like, and/or follow. That would be great.

Until next time...

Review(s):

Guest: Thanks for the review.

Blackdrake: Thanks for the review. I won't confirm on who's going to meet Aslan first, and you'll have to see in the next chapter about Harry.