It didn't matter that two of his children still ran around in the autumn leaves outside. James was off at Hogwarts and suddenly, Harry felt old. His children were growing up; Teddy himself was already starting his seventh year at Hogwarts. Could it really be that Teddy - so enthralled with Victoire now, so studious for his N.E.W.T.s - was already the age that he was when he dropped out of school, spent a year living out of a tent? It left him in awe.
James shouldn't be in school yet. Just yesterday, he was a toddler, learning to talk - slowly learning to be kind to his brother. Just yesterday, he stood up to a bully down the street who was teasing Lily Luna. Now he was Gryffindor and making his own friends and getting detention.
James was his own person now; he refused to make his identity out of being Harry Potter's son. That made Harry proud, certainly. Like his father, he refused to identify with his fame. But it made Harry wonder - who then, would his son become? Throwing off the safety net of fame, but knowing it would engulf him anyway - Harry wished his oldest son would never be ensnared.
A/N: For the Drabble Collection Challenge. Prompt: wonder. I'm not JKR and don't own the characters. Word Count: 210.