Revelio (charm)
a spell used to reveal concealed objects, messages, and invisible things

Chapter 14

The townhouse was bustling with activity to all non-Muggle eyes. Harry apparated outside its front lawn and surveyed the scene. Underneath the bright moon, the Gryphons worked methodically. Cyprian and Yas were interviewing two Muggle police who had responded to the disturbance call that night. Thankfully the police were aware of the magical world (one of them was a squib) that they realized the special nature of the busted door laying flat after breaking free from its hinges. A peek into the entryway told them no ordinary human was responsible for the break in and so the right authorities were called. Nova was looking curiously at the marks left on the door frame and Harry spied the rest of the Gryphons walking inside through the open entryway.

Remus passed through this same entryway and stood in front of Harry. He looked tired but alert, Harry observed.

"Harry, it's good to see you in person again, though I wish it was in better circumstances," Remus said. He clasped Harry's forearm and the men gave each other quick hugs.

"I know, Remus," Harry whispered in reply. He lifted his head to look at the house. "What do we know so far?"

Remus gestured to the townhouse behind them. "The house is registered to a Ms. Jane Watson. She's a researcher and historian though she publishes her work under her initials "H.J. Watson" as per her profile on the Institute of Historical Research. She had just turned 29 in September and… and we know that she has a son," Remus said, face turning grim as he recounted the floo conversation from earlier that night. One look at Harry's dark face and Remus could tell he, too, was thinking of the distressed boy who was crying for his mother. "His full name is Daniel James Watson but he preferred to go by James based on the school records we had pulled. Honestly, we don't have a lot on her. There are no magical records and it looked as though she lived as a Muggle. The only thing which ties her to the magical community is James. I've got Tonks trying to dig up more information on Ms. Watson. She might not even be a witch."

Harry shook his head. "No, I know she's a witch. James had talked about her before," Harry said. He was reminded of James' sheepish face as he told Harry his mum hated to fly but loved every other subject in school. "In fact, she might have gone to a magical school in Europe. Check Beauxbatons or Durmstrang for someone who might fit her profile. Check Hogwarts as well, but I doubt she went there. I don't recall a Watson at school even though she's my age. Although… she knew Professor McGonagall." He said, his eyebrows creased as he tried to imagine how the two women knew each other.

"Ms. Watson knew Minerva?" Remus asked in surprise. "How do you know?"

"Teddy, Nate, James… They were talking to Ms. Watson minutes before she was attacked," Harry explained. Remus' eyes widened as he started to piece together why his son and nephew were at Dumbledore's office that night. "James had a two-way mirror, Remus. I guess he told Teddy and Nate about it since they're best friends. But during their conversation, Ms. Watson was attacked. Before she left, she told James and the boys to find Minerva… and to tell her that she has been found out."

Remus' eyes widened. "Ms. Watson is a historian, a researcher. And we know she's a witch. We're not sure yet what her latest projects were or whom she worked for but it might be her work which led her to Minerva and got her into all of this mess." Remus said. "Harry… we need to interview her and the boys."

Harry nodded grimly, his lips drawn in a thin line. "I know. I've told her we'll speak to her later today. We need to let Ron know too; we can't interview Nate without his or Luna's consent," Harry said. Remus made a note to call Ron later in the morning. "For now, I want to see this house. Talk me through it."

Remus gave a nod and gestured to the interview taking place off to the side of the house. "The police don't know much, unfortunately," he said. "They were called by one of the nextdoor neighbours. They responded to the call and saw this. One's a squib and recognized that magic was involved and alerted us. They claimed to not have gone further from the door. We interviewed the neighbour, the one who called the police, and he recounted that he heard a bang and a loud crash from next door. He looked out his window and saw smoke rising from Ms. Watson's door so he called the police. He couldn't remember anything else so we've Obliviated him."

"Are any other Muggles aware of this?" Harry asked, his face looking around the street. He spied many Hallowe'en decorations on the porches of the row of houses, but no one seemed to be outside. He looked warily at the other house which was to the right of the Watsons' but saw no light coming through its windows.

Remus shook his head. "Not that we're aware of. The police said it's a quiet neighbourhood. The other neighbour is away on holiday."

Remus led Harry across the manicured lawn and towards the marble steps leading to the front door. Some of the brightly coloured pumpkins and gourds which lined the steps were smashed into pieces. Jack-o-lanterns greeted Harry with broken smiles, the flames in their hearts flickering faintly in an attempt to remain alight.

Nova stood straight from her crouched position by the doorframe. "Captain," she said in greeting with a small bow of her head. "The door was warded with very strong locking spells," Nova immediately jumped to an explanation of what she had discovered. "The dark wizards came through here, but they had a very tough time. Notice these marks," her fingers traced through the lines maring the white door frame. It was as if someone had taken a crowbar and tried to pry open the door from all angles. "And the door itself." She pointed at the door laying on the ground, clean off of its hinges, scorch marks and scratches and soot evident on the side which faced outwards. "I reckon it's the same type of dark magic from the Met which nullified these wards."

Harry looked at the broken piece of wood and the splinters which laid around it. He was almost certain Nova was correct in her assessment that it was the same dark magic as before. But he also wondered why the door was warded in the first place, especially since Ms. Watson was living amongst Muggles. Did she know that she would be need to be protected? Harry filed it as another question he wanted answered in his growing list of questions about James' mum.

Carefully Harry and Remus walked past Nova and into the entryway. Immediately Harry could tell that this was where a lot of action took place. The coat rack was turned over. A table which must have been propped against the wall and once held a vase filled with flowers was on its side on the ground, the vase smashed and the flowers scattered in disarray. A mirror which hung on top of this table had a gigantic crack in the middle and Harry glimpsed two of himself when he walked past it. The landing was painted a welcoming robin egg blue but there were scratches and more scorch marks on its walls. Harry traced his finger over one such mark and recognized it as coming from an offensive spell which could have only originated from deeper inside the house.

Ms. Watson had fought back.

Or tried to, at least.

The soles of his boots clacked against the hardwood floors as he walked deeper inside the home. He reached the living room with its walls painted light grey. There was a large area rug of varying shades of blues and greens on top of which a well worn and very comfortable cream sofa sat. There was a blanket strewn on the sofa and between its seat and the coffee table, Harry spied an overturned tea cup which stained the carpet. He knew that Ms. Watson had dropped it after the intruders came into her home. He spied broken glass on top of the coffee table and surmised it was the other end of the two-way mirror which had been destroyed.

There were floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall next to the couch looking out into the garden at the back of the house. A low cabinet no more than two feet high lined the bottom of the windows creating a cozy reading nook and tall shelves filled with heavy books stood resolutely on either side of the glass. A large TV was propped on top of a white cabinet opposite the seat and Harry could see the latest gaming console peeking out from one of the shelves. The entertainment was in front of a large gallery wall which had dozens and dozens of picture frames. Wooden boxes of varying sizes and colours and holding different subjects were arranged artistically on its surface. There were paintings, posters, typography, and photographs. Plants, big and small, in brightly coloured pots breathed life into the room.

It would have been a wonderful place to come home to if not for it being in total chaos. There were scuff marks on the hardwood floors. The couch was slashed, its fluff and padding strewn around. There were punctures on the large window and books laid discarded on the floor, some of them with their pages ripped out. Plant pots were broken creating a mess of soil and dirt on the ground. The TV was cracked and barely standing on top of the cabinet and the wall behind it was a mess. Frames were crooked, some of them with their glass cracked, some of them had fallen on the floor, and many of them were burned.

Harry felt fury rising in his chest as he looked around the room. There was something else there too. Pain? Heartache? He didn't know. But as he surveyed the space he was reminded of the little boy he made a promise to at Hogwarts. He could almost picture James coming home to this place after school. The boy would have no doubt opened that door with a racket, quickly hung his coat on the coat rack, and tossed his keys atop the table. Harry could imagine him rushing into the living room to kiss his mum on the cheek as she sat on the sofa reading her favourite book and sipping tea. Perhaps after homework, James would turn on the television to watch his favourite shows or play video games. Harry could imagine the boy and his faceless mother arranging the frames on their gallery wall just so during one Saturday afternoon and celebrating with each other after it had turned out perfectly and exactly like how they wanted.

How dare these dark wizards intrude on this home?

How dare they intrude on James' life?

Harry vowed to find them and make them pay for seeping the innocence from this place.

And his resolve to find James' mum safe and sound only grew.

Harry didn't know who Ms. Watson was, but he did know her son. And James, as Harry had grown to know, was a wonderful boy. He was innocent, smart, funny, brave, and warm. He was also absolutely devoted to his mother. If her son was like that, then Ms. Jane Watson must be the same as well. Harry had no doubt.

Harry closed his eyes and took a breath to quell his growing emotions. Now was not the time to let his personal feelings get in the way of his work. When his emeralds peeked through his glasses again, they were serious and concentrated.

Immediately they darted to the wall behind the television. There were many frames, yes, but it seemed to only be the photographs which were scorched.

"Remus," Harry called. Remus walked over to stand next to his commander. "What happened here?" Harry asked and pointed to the frames.

Remus frowned and nodded. "We noticed that too, Harry. The photos have all been burnt. And it's not just here in this room, they're burned everywhere," Remus remarked. "I've got Theo looking into this. We're not certain if this was the intruders' doing or Ms. Watson's. What's curious is that they burned underneath the glass. I don't know of a spell that could do that."

Harry had suspicion it was Ms. Watson's doing but he held that to himself for now.

The living room extended to the dining room and then to the kitchen on the open-floor set-up of the townhouse. Harry's feet carried him into the dining room and that was where he saw signs of the same trace. A large barn dining table with a bench on one side and cream plushed chairs on the other was covered in soot. Sparklines zigzagged their way and traced patterns on the black dust.

This was where unknown, dark magic was cast and Harry grimaced at the fact that Ms. Watson was the likely recipient of the spell. He warily eyed the small soot-free area on the floor by the legs of the dining table and could almost picture Ms. Watson laying crumpled on the ground.

The rest of the dining area was in shambles too. A large cabinet holding fine china was marred, the shelves pulled out and the ceramics in display broken and shattered. A look to the kitchen confirmed Harry's suspicions. From across the dining table he could see every door of the cabinets in the kitchen opened.

The intruders were looking for something inside the house. Whatever it was remained unknown. But Harry was starting to piece together the motive behind the break-in and abduction of Ms. Watson. Clearly, the dark wizards thought that she had something or was hiding something they were willing to go to such drastic measures to obtain.

"We need to know what she's working on, Remus. Does she have an office here?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded his head. "The bedrooms and her office are upstairs. The rest of the team are over there." He led Harry to the staircase.

The staircase had a long rug which spanned its length and his boots were silent as he ascended to the top floor of the townhouse. More picture frames lined the stairs but like Remus said, every picture was burned and discernable.

The Gryphon captain and his right hand man arrived on the landing of the upper floor. There was a skylight and Harry spied the stars and bright moon from beneath the glass. The landing was a large open space with four doors leading to the different rooms on the upper floor. There was another reading area built into one wall and Harry saw that the books which were on the shelf around it have been cast to the ground. He saw Draco standing by the only closed door across the landing and tracing patterns with his wand. Remus led him to a door which was opened.

Harry knew he was in Ms. Watson's bedroom the moment he entered. He felt like he knew Ms. Jane Watson a little better as he walked through her home. She loved books as evidenced by the bookshelves he saw in the places he had already explored, and this bedroom told the same tale. The room had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves built into two walls. The shelves and the wall surrounding her reading nook by the window were white while an accent wall of pale lavender backdropped a large king sized bed covered in cream duvet and pillows. Two matching side-tables flanked the bed on top of which an assortment of picture frames and more books were placed. A cut in the bookshelves on one of the walls made way to an opened door which led to a large closet and en suite bathroom.

But like the rest of the home he had seen so far, this room was also trashed, the pictures also burned. Books pulled from the shelves and torn pages littered the ground that Harry had a hard time seeing the floor. He looked through the other door and saw the same thing. Clothes which were once neatly arranged on their hangers had been thrown to the ground. The drawers have been rummaged through and even the place underneath the bathroom sink had been searched. Ansel was in this room looking confused at all the stuff.

"Found anything, Ansel?" Harry asked.

The raven haired man turned to look at him, his eyebrows creased in frustration atop his glasses. "Not yet, Captain. There are so many things to go through."

Harry nodded his head and stepped out of the room following Remus' beckon. The older man led Harry to another room on the second floor. Harry spied Tonks walking around this room through the opened door and when he entered he knew he was in the office. Rich mahogany brown bookshelves lined the walls and there was a large desk with feather carvings all around which stood in front of a bay window. A lamp, notebooks, and pens sat atop the surface of the table. Harry spied a cord snaking towards the table from an outlet on the wall but there was no laptop to be seen.

If the rest of the house was bad, then this was the worst. No books remained on the shelves for they had all been pulled out, pages rifled through and torn. Most of the wooden stacks were broken and on the ground leaving just the shell of the bookcase. All drawers of the desk had been pulled out and searched and laid discarded on the floor atop pages of the books, their contents spilled all around. The mahogany desk had scorch marks and scratches on its surface, marring the once beautiful feather mosaic, no doubt due to countless spells fired at it to reveal its secrets.

Tonks was using her wand to search through the contents of the desks that had been spilled on the ground. After glimpsing her husband and Harry, she stood up and walked over to them and enveloped Harry in a hug. "Wotcher Harry," she said in a soft greeting. "It's good to see you."

Harry hugged the Metamorphmagus tightly. "Good to see you too, Tonks," he said before letting go. "What have you found out about Ms. Watson?"

"Probably not more than what Remus had already told you," she replied with a frown. "It's hard to get a read on what she had been doing since those bloody intruders left us all this mess to go through!" She exclaimed in frustration, gesturing around the room. "But I'll find something, Harry, even if I have to read every single one of these pages."

Harry gave her a grim nod and walked out of the room. He glimpsed through the other opened door and saw that it was another bathroom in the same state as the other one in the masters. His brows wrinkled when he caught sight of Draco, now joined by Theo and Nova from downstairs, hovering outside the only closed door across the landing.

That had to be James' bedroom.

In four long strides, Harry crossed the floor and stood with his team. Theo and Nova made way for him while Draco remained crouched on the ground, his platinum blonde head leveled with the doorknob, and his wand clutched in his hand.

"Draco," Harry said his name in greeting.

"Good to see you, Potter," Draco said, the familiar name slipping from his mouth. Though they have been friends for a long time, the habit of calling Harry by his last name never did go away for Draco Malfoy. He unbent his knees and gave Harry a quick hug.

"What do we have here?" Harry asked, gesturing to the closed door. "This is James' bedroom isn't it?"

Draco shrugged. "By process of elimination, it has to be. But we're not sure," he replied.

Harry frowned. "You're not sure? Why not? Go inside and see!"

Draco had to avoid rolling his eyes at his superior. "We've tried that Potter, and the intruders did as well. But we can't." He said. That was when he pointed around the door.

When Harry had walked towards it, a lot of the room's entryway was obscured by the Gryphons standing in front. But now that the blonde was stood upright and Harry was a mere foot away from it, nothing was obscuring his view. Like the front door, the intruders tried very hard to enter. But while they were eventually able to break the spell that protected the front door, they were unable to do the same for this room.

The surrounding area of the door was absolutely scorched and scratched due to the countless spells thrown at it. But the white door with its silver handle withstood. Not one imperfection marked the wooden surface.

Harry withdrew his wand from the pocket of his coat and pointed it towards the door. "Alohomora!" He said.

Nothing happened.

A line formed in between his brows. "Stand back," he said, and the Gryphons behind him dutifully followed his command. "Bombarda!"

The blue light whizzed through his wand and was dispersed off of an invisible shield which protected the door.

Harry felt his jaw turn slack.

At the sound of spells being cast, Remus joined the spectacle outside the only closed door.

"I think… I think we might need the boy for this," Draco said, biting his lip in thought.

Remus looked at the analyst. "Why?"

"Because I've seen a protection spell like this before," the blonde said. "And it was a very powerful and very complicated bit of blood magic."

Nova gasped. "Blood magic? Isn't that dark magic?"

Immediately Draco shook his head. "No, that's a common misconception. Blood magic doesn't always equate dark magic, though it certainly can lead to it. It's just a branch of magic that requires blood to cast and to break. We need the boy because I reckon only he can dismantle the protection on this door…"

Draco continued his explanation but Harry had tuned him out. He was looking at the closed door, his face in chagrin. One word echoed in his mind.

Why?

Why go through all of this trouble to protect this one room?

Why does this house feel so familiar?

Why was Ms. Watson targeted?

Why was Minerva involved?

Why does it have to be James?

And, most importantly, why does he feel as if he had missed something?

His right hand moved on its own accord and inched closer to the handle.

Harry almost expected to be zapped by the invisible shield but he was able to close his grip around the silver.

The door sighed.

There was a soft click.

The door unlocked.

With a small movement of his wrist and a light push of his arm, it swung open.

The Gryphons outside the room looked at Harry incredulously, all of them turning silent as they watched their captain walk inside the room. Draco and Remus looked at each other wide-eyed. Draco mouthed a silent question.

How?

Harry reached a hand to the wall and flicked a switch. The room was illuminated with bright light. It was what Harry would have imagined to be James' room. The walls were painted a light blue, the ceilings white. Across the door was a large window looking out into the backyard with another reading nook built around it. There was a bookshelf which dominated the wall next to the door and Harry spied popular titles neatly arranged on the stacks. Amongst the books on the shelf were little knick knacks and picture frames. These photos were unharmed and laid perfectly underneath the glass. There was a younger James proudly displaying a painting which Harry had glimpsed in the downstairs gallery. There was another picture of him in a uniform, looking so smart and boyish in his maroon blazer, surrounded by friends dressed similarly. There was a grinning James at the park, wearing a jersey with his right foot atop a ball on the grass and surrounded by his team. A small trophy was placed next to this photograph. There was a photo taken outside the house as Harry saw the familiar backdrop complete with jack-o-lanterns. This picture held a mischievously grinning James while dressed as a brown mouse with absurdly large round ears. He was holding a basket shaped like a pumpkin. A taller female figure smiled next to him, head turned to the side as she looked fondly at the boy, and Harry could only assume she was Ms. Watson. She was dressed equally as silly as a grey cat with her dark wavy hair coloured silver, cat ears perched on her head, a feline mask covering her eyes, and long silver whiskers extending from her nose.

Harry grimaced when he realized the picture was from Hallowe'en's past and he couldn't believe how differently this Hallowe'en had turned out.

He rounded the room, the still bewildered Gryphons tailing behind him. The wall perpendicular to the bookshelf and opposite the bed held a built-in wardrobe surrounding a small entertainment system. A television stood perched on one of the shelves and a stack of DVDs were arranged neatly underneath. A full-sized mirror was hung from one of the wardrobe's closed doors and Harry glimpsed his tired face as he passed. The wall next to the window held a framed football jersey proudly displaying Watson and the number 2. Framed medals and awards also hung on this little space and Harry felt pride filling his chest as he saw James' accomplishments. A guitar stood tall on its stand at the corner and faced the bed.

The bed was large and welcoming, covered in a bedding of mixed blues. It was neatly made and the pillows were perfectly fluffed. There was a stuffed football on the bed and Harry had to smile. James loved the sport and he was glad the boy had found another passion in Quidditch whilst he was away from the Muggle world.

As Harry passed the window on his way to the last corner of the room, he couldn't help but look up at the dark sky. A silent wish, almost a plea, left his mind and flew to the stars.

'Please,' he thought. 'Please let me keep my promise to him.'

Theo's voice pierced the silence and said aloud what they had all observed. "This room is perfect. No spell was able to get through that door, not even the one which burned every other picture in this house."

Nova was already going through the bookcase, examining every title. Draco was looking through the wardrobe. Remus was behind Harry, looking out into the backyard through the large window and wondering aloud if the window had been protected by blood magic too. It must have been.

Harry saw a stack of books on the nightstand. His hand reached and carefully he picked them up, examining the titles on their spines. There was a blue hardcover book with The Golden Compass printed in a white serif script. A thin ribbon peaked from between the pages marking James' spot in the story. Two other books, A Lion, a Witch, and a Wardrobe and Murder on the Orient Express made up the triplicate of books in Harry's hands, all of them with bookmarks tucked between the pages.

Harry gave a wry smile. James was clearly an avid reader.

He looked to the nightstand. The books in his hands revealed a photograph which was hiding behind them.

The novels tumbled from his hands and onto the floor in a loud clatter which drew the attention of all the Gryphons in the room.

He felt as if the wind had been knocked from him. He abruptly took a step back and crashed into Remus.

"Harry!" Remus exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

Harry couldn't form any words. In fact, he couldn't even think. He numbly pointed to the table, to the one picture frame which held memories James held dear; to the photograph the boy had wanted to see the moment he woke up in the morning.

It held a face Harry thought he would never see again but would never ever forget.

Wavy brown hair which he had for years longed to touch.

A smile so radiant it warmed his soul.

And chocolate eyes which bore right through his heart.

It was Hermione.

"You mean to say you've read all of your Hogwarts books already?!" Nate asked with his eyes wide.

The brown haired boy nodded his head with a shrug. "I've always loved reading."

"Well how come you didn't know about Quidditch then?!"

James smiled sheepishly. "There was no book on Quidditch that mum and I bought."

"Bloody hell, James!" Nate exclaimed in a loud whisper, half in shock and half in awe. A series of red sparks continued to erupt from James' wand like a burning firecracker. The class erupted in applause and Harry smiled from his place at the front of the class. "How are you so good at this?"

James smiled bashfully and flicked his wand to stop the stream of red. "Mum taught me."

"You'll learn all about flying through Madame Hooch." Harry said with a smile.

"I'm most excited to learn about flying. I read all about the other Hogwarts subjects but for some reason, mum didn't have any books on flying. I reckon she didn't like to fly." James said with a small frown.

Harry laughed and gestured his head towards the castle and the two began their walk back. "Flying isn't everyone's cup of tea. It is one of my favourite things to do though."

"Good morning Professor Potter!" The boy said in greeting.

Harry dismounted his Stormbreaker and returned his wave. "Good morning James! You're up early, I see."

James walked towards an oak tree lining the side of the pitch and took a seat on the grass. Harry followed his lead and sat down underneath the tree next to the boy. He laid his broom to the side and extended his legs in a stretch.

"I wanted Athena to deliver a letter early for me. It's my mum's birthday today!" James exclaimed.

Harry didn't know how long he sat on James' bed for. It could have been minutes, hours, days. He vaguely remembered Remus clearing the room after his wolfish eyes saw the item on the nightstand.

Clouds had started to cover the moon which Harry could see through the window. He felt stranded in time as he looked at the picture frame clutched in his hands.

Then.

Now.

It was a picture divided in two, depicting the same two people from either side of a decade.

On the left there was a baby; a cute, little baby no more than six months old with a gummy smile, shining brown eyes, and a head full of wispy black hair. The baby was held by a woman. Brown strands fell onto her face from her ponytail. Her eyes were tired but so filled with love as she proudly showed her son to whomever was behind the camera. A soft curve was on her lips as she smiled.

On the right there were the same two people. The mother and the son. Only this time, the baby had grown to be a boy. He had the same shining brown eyes though his smile showed a full set of teeth and his head was covered in black hair which never could lay completely flat. He was held by his mother. An arm was slung over his shoulder as she beamed at the photographer. Gone was her bushy hair for they now fell in soft waves. Her cheekbones were more defined. There weren't so many freckles around her nose anymore and her eyebrows were sculpted and more shapely; her lips, fuller.

And those eyes… they were the same eyes which belonged to the boy. The same eyes which had made him question for the past two months where he had seen them before. How could he have forgotten? They were the eyes that he turned to for comfort and for confidence. They were the eyes which narrowed when she was annoyed and sparkled when she was happy. Looking into her eyes made Harry feel like he was home.

More memories flooded his mind and he almost begged aloud for them to stop.

It was study period when Harry walked inside the Great Hall. Students of all years peppered the tables, their heads bent over their notes as they did their homework. He spied his godsons, Drew, and their new friend scribbling furiously on rolls of parchment at the middle of one of the tables. As he passed by on his way to the front, he overheard their conversation.

"When I was in first year, we didn't have an assignment like this. History of Magic was the dullest class ever," Drew said glumly and looked almost longingly at the homework the three other boys were doing. "I reckon Professor Binns had finally realized just how boring his class was."

Teddy laid his quill down and looked at the others. "There! Finished! That was the easiest essay I've had to write."

Drew rolled his eyes. "Of course it's easy. It's an essay all about you."

Nate stuck his tongue out in defense of Teddy. "You're just jealous. Hey James! What'd you write about?"

The boy laid his quill down and stretched his arms out front. "Y'know… how I didn't know I was a wizard. Mum and I. How I went to a Muggle school before Hogwarts. How I got my name, my hobbies, favourite foods..." James listed as he counted with his fingers.

Teddy's interest was sparked. "How did you get your name? How come you go by James and not by Daniel?"

James grinned. "I was named after my grandfathers! Mum was the one who started calling me James… she said I looked more like a James who is my dad's dad than a Daniel who is her dad."

Harry had to smile at their conversation as he walked towards Hagrid seated at the Head Table.

"Wow!" James exclaimed. "Did you know what Quidditch was before then?"

Harry laughed. "No! Wood had to explain to me the whole mechanics of the game. I was very hesitant to join the team until one of my best friends told me that my father used to play too," Harry said, his eyes softening. "They - my parents - were killed when I was a baby and I grew up not knowing a lot about them. But when I found out that my dad was in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I knew I wanted to do it since it would be something he and I would share."

James nodded his head in understanding.

"The game made me feel closer to him. Being on a broom made me feel closer to him. His name was James too, you know. James Potter." Harry said with a smile to the listening boy. "He was a Gryffindor Chaser! My godfather said that he absolutely loved Quidditch."

James bit his lip before responding. "I wish I knew my dad, or at least know what he's like."

Harry's eyes softened at the remark. This was the first time James had ever mentioned his father. "If you ever need to talk about it to someone, James, you know I'm here."

James nodded and smiled at the professor. "I know, Professor. Thank you."

"Anytime."

Feather light touches and sweet kisses made way to lingering caresses and moans. He sucked on her bare neck, her head instinctively tilting back to give him more room. He trailed kisses down her throat and enveloped a nipple in his mouth. A hand was tracing her spine creating goosebumps on her flesh and she shivered in anticipation. Her hands were playing in his hair, gripping, tugging, pushing, pulling. He shuddered when she moved her hips against his, her legs falling around him and their most intimate parts aligning. His hardness brushed against her softness and simultaneous groans filled the air.

"Are you… are you sure?" He asked. His green eyes searched for her browns in the darkness and held them.

Her eyes were shining so bright that he almost mistook them for stars. Her head gave one nod. "Yes."

His hands gripped the bare flesh of her hips. With one swift move, he lowered her onto his length. Gasps of pleasure filled the air as he filled her completely.

For a moment they held, acclimating to their new and most intimate connection. And then stillness turned to rhythm and they danced passionately together.

At the peak of their climb, two sounds reverberated through the forest and pierced the darkness.

"Harry!"

"Hermione!"

Tears he didn't know he cried blinded his eyes.

Hermione was alive.

James was her son.

And, with absolute certainty, Harry knew that James was his.