AN: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.

Chapter 7: Magic

Once the sickly little Potter child was seven, their illness had become manageable and subdued for the most part. Whether it was because of their parents' half-assed attempts at finding a cure, the magical significance of the number, or just a coincidence is up for debate.

At first, the not-as-sickly little twin was happy with the occasional fluttering of their magic. After all, their twin was praised and doted on when displaying signs of magic, and if there was one thing the poor little twin wanted it was for their family to love them. But things weren't as straightforward as that.

Ordinarily, if they had started displaying signs of magic, they would be praised. Except for the fact that when they displayed accidental magic, it was usually because they felt threatened. And, again, if that was the only thing happening, they would be praised because loathe as they were to admit it, even the 'light' purebloods were prejudiced against squibs. Except, again, the 'enemy' the smaller twin's magic sought out was James.

And James was not pleased. He would have preferred their half-dead child to be a squib rather than acknowledge that the most frightening thing in the house for his own child was himself.

The accidental magic started small, with making the child invisible or silent when they were going between rooms and James was home. When James realized what their magic was doing, he may have felt a bit remorseful for a second. So, he left the child alone when their magic was making them less noticeable.

That wasn't a very good idea on his part, though, with how much screaming at his child had become routine. So, the next time he started screaming at the child, they weren't as used to it. He ended up concussed from being sent flying into a portrait, only to bounce off and land head-first on the hardwood floors due to that specific painting having a magical barrier on it. What a fun coincidence, that he flew at the item in the hallway most likely to cause harm.

Of course, he was very insulted about that, so he screamed at the child once he stopped being dizzy. And, of course, the already provoked magic forced his mouth to stop moving. Which left the only option to express his displeasure shaking them. Which left the child's magic to summon a shield as they ran away to hide in a closet.

Poor James, suffering the consequences of his actions, did the only thing left to do. He sulked and glowered and didn't tell anyone why.

Poor little sickly child, finally given some peace, did what they always did. They hid in the library, not daring to hope that James would stop and they would be accepted into the family. They were always on edge, waiting for James to start screaming again or do something worse than screaming.

Eventually, James was done licking the wounds of his ego and fell back into the cycle of screaming at the sickly child and feeling a bit of regret for a moment afterwards. Because the child in question was still recovering and had been subconsciously using their magic to generate shields and become less noticeable, James got away with it for a time.

James convinced himself that the accidental magic had been a fluke and set to verbally flaying his child even more viciously to make up for his wounded ego.

It hadn't been a fluke, and those few months of going between excessive bouts of accidental magic and James coming back with a wounded pride trying to prove his superiority became something of a cycle. The slightly less sickly child would wear themselves and their magic out keeping James away, James would start being even more vicious in his choice of words and would set off the accidental magic of their child, and the process would repeat.

When the child was almost eight, and their magic had almost completely recovered, James stormed into their room to threaten to ask the genial Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore himself, to bind the child's magic. Said magic was very unimpressed and therefore what few toys and stuffed animals the child had started to float around, waiting for a reason to attack James.

The reason came in the form of stomping forwards, towards the desk the child was sitting at, with his wand half-drawn and his face a splotchy red. Every toy, pillow, and stuffed animal flew at him. He didn't create a shield in time and was hit by most of them. Of course, under the weight of the child's magic and toys, James toppled over. Like the big, strong, manly man he was, he got up as quickly as he could in even more of a temper. He stopped for a moment, seemingly calming himself, before smirking. He started to laugh. In between chuckles, he said, "If you're going to throw things at me, your wonderful father," he practically spat out the word 'father', "then I'm going to have to do something, aren't I? And if I don't have Dumbledore bind your magic there has to be another consequence."

He bent down and picked up a little red and gold lion plushy, holding it up in front of the cowering child's tear-streaked face.

"Incendio."

The child watched their first toy from James, not that James would remember that, burn.

They sobbed.