A/N:

dedicated to Ale and Hela for providing the prompting for this particular story. expect some random updates whenever i get the ideas for them

the opening to this story is a mirror of the opening of 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.

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Child of Death

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Chapter 1: A Marauder's Child

Mr. and Mrs. Potter of Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, were proud to say that they were perfectly abnormal, thank you very much. They were involved in many things strange and mysterious because they were, respectively, a wizard and a witch.

Mr. Potter was an Auror at the Ministry of Magic, which meant he was responsible for hunting down magical criminals. He was a tall, bespectacled man with a mop of messy dark hair that seemed to be untameable. Mrs. Potter was a pale, red-headed woman with beautiful green eyes that were the subject of many compliments wherever she went. The Potters had a small son named Harry and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Potters had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.

James had woken early to do the laundry while Lily and Harry slept. He was tired from staying up the night before, but he had promised Lily he would take the task on, and he was a man of his word. They had no House-Elves because of the Fidelius Charm on the house, which was fine. James would do laundry by hand for the rest of his life if it meant keeping his family safe.

As he loaded the washing machine, James stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. Though he loved Harry dearly, his son was… a handful, to say the least. Lily kept a scrapbook of all Harry's 'firsts'—first laugh, first steps, first words—but there were a few 'firsts' that were not common firsts, even for magical babies.

A knock at the door made James straighten immediately. There was only one person who had their address nowadays.

James got up from the ground, cursing his knees—seriously, what the hell, he was in his twenties, this was getting ridiculous—as he made his way to the door.

A sheepish-looking Sirius was standing on the welcome mat.

"Again?" James asked wearily.

"Sorry," Sirius said, sounding genuinely apologetic, "I wouldn't have risked coming here otherwise."

James scrubbed at his face. "Okay. One moment. I think Lils is still sleeping and I don't want to bother her."

"Got it."

James turned away from the door and trudged upstairs to the nursery. The lights were off, and baby Harry was snoring softly in his crib while tiny magical stars twinkled overhead. James loomed over the crib to check on his son, and sure enough, Harry had his tiny baby fists clenched around Albus Dumbledore's wand. How long had it been there? James had no idea. Harry must have summoned it at some point during the night.

It was moments like this that reminded James that his one-year-old son had the power to defeat Lord Voldemort.

Very carefully, James tugged the wand out of his son's grasp. Harry squirmed and rolled onto his side while James held his breath, praying to Merlin that Harry wouldn't wake up and start to cry at having his toy taken away.

Harry was normally a very good, very well-behaved little boy, but there were certain things he would not abide by, and those things tended to relate to the strange magical powers he had. James caressed his son's head before leaving the nursery as quietly as he'd entered it.

"Second time this week," Sirius said as James held out Dumbledore's wand to him. "At this rate, we'll be taking Harry to Ollivanders at the ripe old age of two."

"Merlin, I hope not," James said. Truthfully, he was worried about what would happen if Harry's powers grew out of hand. Sure, at the moment it was limited to silly, harmless acts like stealing the Headmaster's wand and summoning dead birds for their pet cat, Sally, but who knew what else Harry was capable of?

Sirius' joking expression sobered. "Don't worry, alright? Everything will work out."

James did worry. He worried that Harry would decide to steal the Headmaster's wand in the middle of a pivotal battle and that this would cause someone to die. But he wouldn't say that in front of Padfoot, who meant well, who was his most trusted friend, who was the godfather of his child.

"Of course! Harry is going to obliterate Voldemort any day now, completely by accident," James joked. "Voldemort will drop dead in the loo and no one will be the wiser."

"Exactly!" Sirius clapped James on the shoulder. "He's a Marauder's child, isn't he?" Sirius cracked a grin. "I've got to run this back," he continued, lifting the wand, "but you take care. And tell Lily and Harry 'hello' for me."

"And you stay safe," James said with a nod.

Sirius winked before he left and James shut the door behind him. Then he stood there, staring at the door. After a few minutes, he shook himself from his stupor and went to finish the laundry. Once that was done and the machine was running—the noise of it reminded James of Dumbledore's office full of trinkets—James went back to check on Harry.

Harry was not in the crib.

Harry was suspended in midair alongside all of his toys, rolling over and over like he was a miniature planet rather than a one-year-old boy.

Panic rose in James' chest like a tidal wave. "Harry," he whispered in a high pitched voice, "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry grinned widely and unrepentantly at his father before promptly rolling 360 degrees in the air.

For the first time in his life, James Potter regretted having been a troublemaker at school. If he had refrained, perhaps he would have been spared this singular, terrifying moment of watching his apparently all-powerful son rotate every single stuffed animal in the room at once.

James ran forward and stretched his arms up. "Come to daddy," James said, wiggling his fingers. "Come here, Harry!" He could summon Harry to him, perhaps, but he worried that without the use of his wand, he would mess up. It was safer to position himself underneath, where he could catch Harry if necessary.

"Da-da," Harry said clearly, but he did not cease his rotation.

"Please come down," James pleaded. He was dearly hoping that Lily wouldn't wake and happen upon this incident. They all had enough to be worrying about without adding more to the mix.

"Da-da!" Harry exclaimed, waving his arms in the air. All the animals began a merry dance around the room, orbiting little Harry in great big circles.

James glanced around the room, trying to find something that Harry would give up flying for. The problem was, he was fairly sure that the only thing Harry would give up flying for… was flying. The toy broomstick Harry had gotten for his first birthday was locked safely in a special trunk. He and Lily had been using it as a reward for good behaviour.

"Harry?" James asked plaintively.

Harry blinked his wide green eyes in an unfair expression of childhood innocence.

"Do you… want ice cream?" James tried. "Ice cream for Harry?"

Harry stuck his tongue out, but he seemed to be taking the offer seriously. James held a hand out for the second time and gave it an enticing waggle.

Slowly, Harry floated towards him. James let out a half-sob of relief as Harry grabbed his hand, then reeled his son in and wrapped him up in a tight hug. Merlin, he was going to start putting Sticking Charms on Harry before leaving him to sleep for the night. What if the boy had fallen?

"You scared daddy," James scolded. "No flying without mummy or daddy around, remember? That was the rule."

Harry yawned and beat his tiny fist against his father's shoulder before mumbling something that was probably the word 'ice cream'.

"Marauder's child," James muttered, rubbing Harry's back. "He's a Marauder's child, alright."