James Potter sat staring out the window of his current home in room 12 of the Leaky Cauldron with his son, Harry, sleeping quietly in his crib. A lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead was all that remained from Harry's confrontation with Lord Voldemort. Yet again James had begun to silently review every last moment he had spent with his wife Lily in their secret home which had been destroyed by Voldemort's attack. James held his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Seconds later, there was an abrupt and urgent knocking on the door. James looked mournfully at it before standing and walking to it. He wrapped his fingers around the door knob and turned it very slowly.
Behind the door he discovered Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, the witchcraft school that James had attended from ages 11 to 18, the school where he met Lily.... Professor McGonagall's presence was not alarming to James – she had been checking on him at least once daily since Voldemort's fall and Lily's death. However, when James looked to her arms he was surprised to see a sleeping baby girl no older than Harry. James looked back to McGonagall's eyes, which were worn with heavy burdens.
"There's been another attack, James." She said. McGonagall rarely addressed James by his first name, but it seemed inappropriate for her to otherwise considering the news that she bore. "I'm afraid to inform you that your remaining relatives have..." she paused, as if she was trying to think of another way to phrase the news, "have been murdered."
James somberly cast his glace downward. McGonagall continued.
"It was another splurge of Deatheaters. However, it's been taken care of." James nodded "This child was found at the site in the arms of your uncle by one of the Ministry investigators. They were hoping you might know her."
James nodded slowly, his hand still gripping the door knob in an angry sort of way.
"Do you know her?"
"My cousin, Roxanne..." he said softly, "But why did you bring her here?"
"She has no other place to go." McGonagall's face filled with pity as she spoke, "You're the last of her family, Potter. But she isn't your child. You have a choice here – keep her with you or I can take her to a foster home."
James didn't speak but turned toward the window again and leaned slightly backward against the wall. His eyes glazed over as if he was about to cry. Old tracks of tears down his face suggested that he had cried before. However, tears did not fall and he remained unspoken. McGonagall seemed to interpret this as a 'no' and turned from the room.
"Wait." James said unexpectedly. He turned to face the door again and McGonagall turned to face him. He extended his arms and McGonagall passed Roxanne to him. Looking at his old Professor with an expression of loss, he slowly closed the door.
Returning to his chair facing the window, he placed Roxanne in the crib beside Harry. Both children slept on as James seated himself and with his elbows pushing up from his knees and his head in his hand and his fingers in his hair.