Author's Note: The ages of the characters and the timeline of certain events have been changed for this story.
Harry Potter was a very lucky sixteen-year-old boy. He had a large and loving family who made sure he was never wanting, good friends, and a promising Quidditch career on the horizon. Currently, he was doing a breaststroke in the pool in the family's summer home in the Provence region of Southern France. The day was warm and the air was calm, with just a hint of a breeze coming through the hills beyond the estate. Harry's strokes were violent, however. The water splashed around him as though he were being chased by an Inferi who learned the breaststroke.
This was how Harry had spent the majority of his summer of his sixteenth year, desperately trying to evade an uneasiness. Harry couldn't shake the feeling, nor truly put into words, just what exactly concerned him so much. He often felt angry with himself for even having such thoughts, as surely a boy of his fortune should not complain. Still, it nagged at him from time to time, and right now was a particularly frustrating moment to be stressed about nothing. The summer sun was idling above the horizon, resisting disappearing behind the hills.
"Harry," a voice called. He turned to see his mother, Lily Potter, approaching. Her auburn hair was tied in a messy bun. A blue bed sheet draped across her shoulders as she carried a laundry basket out into the garden. "Dinner is on the table, and I refuse to keep setting warming charms. You're sixteen. You should have a baguette stuffed in your mouth at all times!"
Harry rolled his eyes, and his mother smirked before hanging the clothing. Begrudgingly, he exited the pool; large drops of water exploded on the deck near his feet. He grabbed a towel and planted a kiss on his mother's cheek.
"Don't soak the floor!" she called as he went inside.
The Potter summer home was modest. It was an older two story, and the once bright red brick had long since faded from the French summer sun. James had fallen in love with the green shutters, which he said made the house look like Lily. There were four medium-sized bedrooms, three acres of green land, and two functional bathrooms. James had wanted a large beachside residence, but Lily had insisted that they didn't need the space for a summer home. and they could just as easily apparate to the beach. She had agreed to a large kitchen, complete with a massive island and two gas cookers. Harry wondered why his mum needed two cookers when she was perfectly capable of ruining a dinner in one.
Drying the pool water from his hair, Harry moved through the kitchen and entered the dining room to find his family already finishing up with their meal. His oldest brother, Simon, was huddled with his head close to his father, as they discussed something undoubtedly Quidditch-related. Simon kept tucking his long black hair behind his ears.
His older sister, Rosalynn, was rummaging through several sheets of parchment, one of which was four feet long if it was a centimeter. Her large-rimmed glasses kept slipping down her nose. Rosalynn was the spitting image of her mother, apart from her glasses. She was tall with a lithe figure and dark red hair. But her eyes were more like James. His mother's eyes only belonged to Harry, and they turned upon his other brother, Jack, who casually leaned back in his chair as he read a rather large book. The chair creaked and rocked further and further back until it was at the edge of toppling over before Jack brought it back.
"'Bout time you joined us," Simon said. "What can be so interesting about a pool that you almost miss dinner again?"
"Kind of the point of summer," answered Jack. "You don't have to do anything but enjoy it." He winked at Harry, who smiled. Harry would never say this aloud, but of all his older siblings, Jack was his favorite. Something about his carefree attitude and independence appealed to him.
Lily returned from outside and ushered Harry into his seat. At her prodding, he began shoveling food into his mouth, grimacing as he swallowed a large portion of lemon chicken.
"When does training camp start?" James asked.
"Two weeks," replied Simon. "The English like to get an earlier start on things than the French. Le Bleu wouldn't start training until late September."
"And the season cuts short in April," James said, earning a nod from Simon.
"Probably why we haven't made a World Cup in thirty years. No work ethics. Dad, this is going to be so much fun. Actually playing Quidditch year round, and in all sorts of conditions! Against the best in the world!" Simon pumped his fist in the air.
"You always deserved to play in the English league and would've been there sooner if I had any say in it."
"Well, Charlie Weasley is a plonker. But I guess we got the last laugh on the Weasleys yet again, didn't we?" Simon hoisted his glass and clinked it with James.
The story of how the Potter family wound up in France was connected to the Weasleys, but in truth, Dumbledore had played the largest role. After the deaths of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Dumbledore had taken the initiative against Voldemort. No one knew how he did it, but one night about a year before Rosalynn was born, Dumbledore had appeared in the British Ministry with the broken body of Voldemort. Just like that, the war was over. James and Lily were able to shift their focus to their growing family, which eventually led them to France.
"Hey, Mum?" Rosalynn said, carefully placing her quill down on the kitchen table.
"Yes, Rosie?"
"Do you think I should work for the Departmente du Creatures Magique or Loi? I can't decide and they both have respectable offers."
"Well, we should discuss that as a family," Lily said, shooting a quick glance at James. Rosalynn narrowed her eyes and a scowl formed on her face.
"Why should everyone have a say?" she asked. "I was asking your opinion, not these pea-brains." She waved her hands towards the boys.
"Hey!" shouted James. "Our brains are not pea-sized. They're melons." This earned a snicker from the children.
"What I mean," said Lily, "is there is something your father and I need to discuss before you make any major decisions. James?"
"Why do I have to tell them?" James whined.
"Because I have things you want," Lily replied cheekily.
Harry made a face. "Thanks for the image, Mum."
"It'll happen to you one day too," James said, reaching over the table to muss Harry's hair.
"Yeah, right," said Simon. "Harry wouldn't know what to do with a girl if she fell right on top of him."
Harry threw a roll, which Simon easily deflected.
"Tut tut, younger brother. Remember who the professional Beater is," Simon whisked a roll back in Harry direction. Harry snatched it out of the air with ease.
"And remember who the next captain of the Beauxbaton Quidditch team is, older brother." Harry tore a piece of the roll and stuffed it in his mouth.
The Potters were notoriously great Quidditch players, apart from Lily. James first noticed when Simon was six; he was fond of blasting acorns at Jack with a skinny tree branch and hit him with surprising accuracy. Since they were still in England at the time, James enrolled Simon, and later Jack and Rosalynn, in pre-Hogwarts Quidditch camps. By the time Simon was in his second year at Hogwarts, he was already the best Beater in school. Which is how the Potters found themselves in France.
"As we were saying," said Lily, "we have a big announcement to make."
"That's right," James said. "Your mother has decided to sell her apothecary business and take up the Potions position at Hogwarts." James looked around the table at the stunned faces, but decided it was best to get the whole announcement over with - like ripping off a plaster. He cleared his throat in the rare silence before continuing. "And I've decided to accept a position within the British Ministry. With Simon finally landing a spot in the British Quidditch League, we decided that it makes sense to move back to England."
His announcement was met with blank stares.
"Does anyone have anything to say?" asked Lily, her eyes furtively scanning the faces of her children. Slowly, a smile grew on Rosalynn's face.
"Well, that's great news for you lot!" said Rosalynn.
"Agreed," said Jack, resuming his reclining. "As you said, it makes sense. We all know how much you and Dad miss England."
"Any thought of coming with us, Jack?" asked Lily, her eyes wide with hope.
"Nah, don't see the point. I got my job and friends here. Besides, French girls are more fun." He gave a wink to Simon, who elbowed him fiercely in the ribs. Lily's face fell.
"Are you really going to sell your store?" asked Rosalynn.
"Yes, it was a tough decision, but I always had a soft spot for Hogwarts. Many great memories." Lily looked longingly at James, who wore a cheeky grin.
"Including a few specific broom cupboards," he said, earning a playful slap from Lily and groans from Simon.
"Well, what if you didn't sell?" asked Rosalynn, who had excitedly shoved her stack of parchment to the side and leaned even further across the table. "What if I ran the business?"
"And where is this coming from?" said Lily. "You've never seemed remotely interested in working in my shop, even those summers where I practically had to force you."
"That was when you had me stocking shelves," she retorted. "I've always liked Potions, Mum. You know how well I did on my exams in the subject."
"What about working for the Ministry? You were top of your class, Rosalynn." This was a fair point. Rosalynn had always been an excellent student and was obsessed with her studies. She even had convinced her parents to allow her to stay at Hogwarts until her fifth year, despite the presence of Fred and George Weasley. But when her favorite Charms professor suddenly retired, Rosalynn decided there was no reason to stay and transferred to Beauxbaton.
"I think there's a reason I can't decide on all of these offers," Rosalynn said, her shoulders sagging. "My heart just isn't in it. I think I can do really well working for you."
Lily pondered the idea for a moment. It sounded like her daughter had been harboring this idea for a while now. She knew she'd excel and would probably do better at running the business than Lily herself. And then a thought struck her.
"No," Lily said. Rosalynn's face looked crushed. "I will not keep the business open for you to run as my employee. I simply will not have the time to devote to it."
"I understand." replied Rosalynn, her fingers twirling her hair. "It was a crazy idea anyway."
"I'm still going to sell the business," Lily said. "How does one franc sound?"
Rosalynn's mouth fell open and her fingers stopped. "What do you mean?"
"Why don't you run the business as your own? Keep it in the family."
"You must be joking." Rosalynn was now practically splayed over the dining room table, her parchment pooled around her feet.
"It does make sense, Rosie," James added. "You've been working at the shop for years; you're a Potions whiz like your mum, and you have a knack for numbers. And your mum and I have discussed too many times moving the shop to England, or perhaps opening a few branches even. Maybe you could expand to Hogsmeade."
Rosalynn couldn't take it anymore; she burst out of her seat to hug Lily and James.
"Thank you! Thank You! Thank you!" Rosalynn danced around the table and her parents beamed and hugged each other.
With that, dinner progressed to dessert and a rousing discussion on where they would all live, where Rosalynn would move the shop, and where Simon could find the best witches. The answers to the first two questions were Hogsmeade -while the answer to the third was decidedly not Hogsmeade. They could all be excused for not noticing that Harry hadn't uttered a single word the entire time. It was only when James noticed Harry's empty chair that both he and Lily realized something was amiss.
Harry quietly made his way from the kitchen to his room upstairs, being careful not to miss the third step, which tended to emit a loud groan. This was a fact both Simon and Jack had learned the hard way after inviting a couple of girls back from a beach party the summer before last. Rosalynn was a much quicker learner.
In most ways, Harry's bedroom was fairly typical for a teenage boy. There were posters of Quidditch stars adorning almost every square inch, both French and British. There was even one of the Holyhead Harpies, the all-women team from the English league and Harry's favorite team, though he would never tell Simon that. His four-post bed was saturated in a Parisian blue, and in the corner a cage held his white snowy owl, Hedwig. His mother had found her in a shop in the magical section of London known as Diagon Alley during one of her rare trips home. Hedwig was as good a friend as Harry could hope. Harry opened her cage and stroked the side of her face.
This was not to say Harry had no other friends. It would be difficult to be starting Seeker and a Potter without making friends. It was just that Harry never felt truly close to any of them. As he gazed at several family photos arranged on his dresser, his eyes found his favorite picture. He was ten and being heaved into the pool by his father. This was the picture he always found himself staring at the longest. He was so carefree. There was no Quidditch to worry about, no bad first dates he was guilted into attending, no parents to disappoint, no crowds of students expecting greatness. Just him and his dad. He grabbed the frame and brought it to his bed.
Harry enjoyed France. He enjoyed Beauxbaton and he enjoyed Quidditch. But he didn't love any of it. Considering who his father was and who his brother was, he should at least love Quidditch. Harry was certainly good enough at it. Some thought he was better than Simon, despite his protestations that they played two completely different positions and such comparisons were unfair. Truthfully, he wished he wasn't so good. When you're really good at something, people have certain expectations.
As if sensing his thoughts, Harry heard his dad call out from behind the closed door. He dropped the picture on the bed and opened it.
"Can I come in?" James asked, and Harry opened the door wider. He walked over to Hedwig's cage, put some pellets in his bowl, and gave the white owl a tender pat.
"Noticed you skipped out on us," James said as he entered the room.
"Sorry. I was just tired." Harry closed the cage and leaned against the wall.
James took a seat on Harry's bed. He picked up the photo.
"This was a great day," James reflected, his thumb stroking the frame.
Harry grabbed the picture from his father. "It was a fun day, I suppose." He placed it back on the nightstand.
"Your mum and I realized we never asked you what you think about all of this. It's a big change, Harry. It's ok to be worried."
"I'm not worried," Harry said, his eyes darting to the ceiling. "I mean, nothing really changes for me. Everyone else, sure. But I'd still be going to school in France, and I was already thinking about taking that trip we talked about next summer after school ends. So nothing really changes."
"True. Nothing has to change. If you don't want it to, that is."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.
"Doesn't mean anything. Your Mum and I thought it would be nice for you to come to Hogwarts. Spend some quality time together, try something new and different. But then again, you can stay at school, keep things the same. No real risk in that." James laid back on the bed, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. Harry smirked and did the same, except he laid in the opposite direction. They had played this game for years.
"Why risk it?" Harry asked, playfully nudging his dad in the head with his feet. "I'll be made captain this year, most likely. And all my friends want to see me back."
"Makes plenty of sense. Another nice, perfectly fine year at Beauxbaton." James angled his feet to Harry's side and gradually began pushing him towards the edge of the bed. "Did I ever tell you about Hogwarts?"
"Only every other day," Harry said, pressing his feet into James' back as he tried to gain the edge.
"Fair. But did I ever tell you I almost gave up on your mum going with me?"
Harry's eyes grew a bit wide. "You almost didn't date mum? But you were after her for years!"
"Well, you know that part of the story. The part where I was a right git for most of my schooling. Just ask Sirius. Actually, don't ask him. Yes, definitely don't ask Sirius about our time at Hogwarts. Anyway, I was basically coasting through school, slacking off and just sort of… existing. Your mum was like this scary other life I could have. But I realized if I wanted that experience, I would need to change a lot about myself." James had now gotten Harry to the very last inch of the bed, and one more big push with his feet would send him over. "Around that time, I was going with this girl in Ravenclaw. Nice girl, but didn't really challenge me. She was pleasant and safe. And right around the middle of sixth year, she asked me to get serious. I thought about it. It was the easier choice. Things with her were nice. Nice and easy. It was that moment when I realized I had a big choice in front of me. Your mum was the riskier option. Even trying to make myself worthy of her would be a tremendous challenge, and it could've been for nothing. But I knew if it worked out, life with her would be tremendous."
With a final push, James forced Harry off the bed and sent him plummeting to the hardwood floor below. Harry landed with a loud thud. He looked up at his dad, who was now leaning over the bed and grinning down at his son. Harry responded with a two-finger salute.
"I'm not nearly as dense as I appear," James continued. "I like to think I know my son pretty well. The biggest change I ever made was for your mother, but the second biggest change was for your brother Simon when we moved to France. I still think it was the right thing for everyone, but sometimes I wonder if it was the best fit for you."
James hoisted himself off the bed and onto his feet. He walked around and crouched in front of Harry. "I won't make any decisions for you, Harry. You're seventeen in two months, and it's time for you to take more control of your life. But I think a change might be just the thing for you."
James left Harry and headed downstairs to where Lily was putting away dishes, her wand flickering back and forth. He nestled behind her, his nose rubbing against her neck, and Lily leaned into his touch.
"How'd it go?" she asked.
"He's a smart kid," James said, holding her around her waist. "He'll make the right choice."
"For him or you? You could never be too far away from him."
"Probably because he's the youngest." His hands had moved from her shoulders down to her waist.
James could not see Lily frown, but soon the sound of feet clamoring interrupted their moment. Harry entered the kitchen and grabbed a chair.
"Mum. Dad," he began, "I was thinking and wondering if it would be possible for me to go to Hogwarts for my sixth year."
James could barely suppress his smile as Lily took a seat next to Harry and placed an arm over his shoulder.
"Is that what you want?" she asked, stroking his back. "Think about it. You'd be leaving your friends and your team. It's difficult to start so late at a new school where you won't know anybody. And you'll have to deal with your own mum as a professor." She winked at him and he smiled.
"Yeah, as awful as having you for a teacher might be, I'm thinking it's time for a change. France just wouldn't be the same without you both."
"There will be many witches heartbroken by the news," James quipped, ruffling Harry's messy hair.
"Yeah, right," Harry said, blushing. Lily simply smiled at her youngest son. He would never understand how handsome he was.
"I think this is a good choice," James said. "Besides, it's time the Potters returned to their rightful place at Hogwarts. And from what I've heard, a certain Quidditch team needs a Seeker. They haven't won the Cup in years, and I think we know why. Blasted Weasleys ruining the reputation of the finest house in school for years now. But not any longer!"
Harry's face fell and Lily hugged him a bit tighter. "But Dad. I don't even know if I'll be good enough to make the team, let alone if I even-"
"Nonsense, you're a Potter!" James interrupted. "And if you want to play in the English league, Hogwarts offers the best pipeline. Harry, this will wind up being the best decision you ever made."
James continued to talk, his arms gesturing wildly, while Lily kept trying to calm him down. Harry pretended to be excited, and a part of him still was. But another part of him felt like this momentous choice of his was not solely his. And for the first time, Harry began wondering if he hadn't just made a tremendous mistake.