Looking to their future
A/N 1: This is the chapter of the re-write for my story Harrison and His Daughter. As any returning readers will know I haven't updated since August 2015. I have tried to come back to Harrison and his Daughter several time over the years, and made minor changes to the chapters. However, my writing tyle has changed a lot over the years (as anyone who has been religiously following Hell Have No Fury since day one can attest), and so I have decided to do for this story what I did for the other. I am completely re-writing the seventeen chapters I have for this story in the hopes that I will be able continue progressing and updating this story.
A/N 2: The basic idea of this story will not change and there may be chapters that I leave mostly untouched.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights or intellectual property of Harry Potter, but I do own any OC characters of this story plus my spin on the story line.
Chapter One: The Last PotterThere have been many stories told of the Boy Hero, Harry James Potter; the boy born to a young wizarding couple who had married young. A boy who grew up alone and neglected, only to enter a world of wonder and face challenges which pushed him to greatness. A boy, who became a man, when he finally defeated the monster who caused him and so many, so much pain.
This story, is the story of a father. A father who stood tall and proud in the face of danger and pain because he knows that at his back an innocent life stood. Just as our father stands in defence of his family, this story starts with two parents who stood – and fell - as shields.
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Lily Ann-Marie Potter was a beautiful young woman with sparkling emerald green eyes and long, fire red, hair. It was the night of Halloween, and she was bringing an evening tray of biscuits and tea into the living room where her husband of three years, James Charles Potter, was playing with their fifteen-month-old son.
James Potter was a strong man with fly away black hair and hazel eyes, framed my round glasses. Well, his eyes were normally framed by his glasses, but that night his son had stolen them from his face and was waving them about like they were one of his new toys. James was futility attempting to rock him to sleep, but Haydon James Potter was far to entertained by his favourite toy to be soothed.
Placing the tea tray down on their coffee table, Lily lent over her son and took the glasses from him.
"I've been trying to get those back for ten minutes." James complained good naturedly.
"He likes my face better than yours." Lily put the glasses back on her husband and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Now, get him to bed – the night is still young."
"As my…" James started but stopped as there was a loud bang from the front door being blown off its hinges.
Instinctively, James handed Haydon over to his wife and snatched up his wand.
"Go, take Harry and get out of here! I'll hold him off!" James ordered his wife, his eyes determined as he turned away and to the hallway that the Dark Lord was slowly gliding down.
Taking a last glance at her husband's back, Lily hurried up the staircase – holding her silent son close to her bodice. Haydon whined curiously, not understanding what this static atmosphere meant and why he was being moved quickly through the house. Normally it was only Padfoot or his dad who moved him quickly, not his mum.
Lily barricaded the nursery door with teers burning in her eyes. Her husband was an amazing duellist but he couldn't hold off the Dark Lord on his own, and especially not in an enclosed space.
Temporarily safe inside the nursery, Lily grabbed the emergency bag she had set up for Haydon in the event that they were forced to leave their safe house quickly or they would perish. She had prayed that they would never need to use the bag, but she was practical and knew that they were being hunted – no defence was perfect. With the bag and her son clutched close, Lily tried to activate the Emergency Portkey that Dumbledore had made for her, and every member of the Order. It didn't work. She tried apparating, focusing on the apartment that Sirius was staying in - it didn't work.
She knew it was futile, that the Death Eaters always blocked all exits – Floo, Portkey and Apparation – but she had to try. What kind of mother would she be if she didn't try and get her son to safety? If she just accepted that they were trapped without testing it?
Lily gentle placed her son and the bag down in his crib as she heard the unmissable high voice of the Dark Lord speak the dreaded curse – Avada Kedavra. There was the unmistakable thud of something hitting the floor and no further sounds of duelling.
Kissing her son lightly on the forehead, Lily whispered her last words to him. "I love you Haydon. Your dad and I love you so much; do you understand? No matter what happens, we will be watching over you. We will always be proud of you, always. Uncle Padfoot will look after you when we're gone, and uncle Moony will look after Padfoot." She smiled weakly at her whimpering son.
Hearing footsteps outside of the nursery door, Lily turned – making sure that her feet were planted firmly on the runic array that she had created and drawn with the blood of her family. Due to the illegal nature of rituals and the conditions that were required for it to work, she had hidden the runes underneath a rug – which also had the benefit of protecting it from damage as they walked over it each day in order to reach Haydon's crib.
Standing as she was, Lily's body was directly between her baby and the door – separating him from the monster that had murdered her husband. No matter what happened next, she would not let this maniac kill her son – she would sacrifice everything to see him survive this night.
Lily managed to bring her arms up in time to shield her head from the flying shrapnel as the nursery door and her barricade was blown apart.
A hooded figure glided into the room.
He was tall and slim, his pale hands and glowing red eyes the only part of his body visible through the thick black cloak – but that was enough. Lord Voldemort didn't need to travel with his hood down for the world to know who he was. His unique eyes and coiling power was enough for him to be known, even by those who had never met him in person. Having faced this man thrice in combat, and been on the field of death with him five more times, Lily knew the taste of his power. Unlike many before her, Lily did not cower in fear from this man's power and the fate that she knew awaited her – she was not afraid to die.
"Stand aside," a cold, sibilant voice hissed from within the depths of the shadowed cloak.
"No, please," Lily begged, knowing that it wouldn't stop him, but trying anyway. "Have mercy."
"You don't have to die today, just stand aside you silly little Mudblood." Voldemort ordered for a second time.
"No please, kill me just don't hurt him." Lilly pleaded once more.
She didn't know why this man was offering her a chance to live, a chance that no other had been given before. As a muggleborn – a muggleborn who had married an important pureblood – she stood for everything that this man hated. When he chose to attack a family, be it in person or through his Death Eaters, Voldemort never left anyone alive. He killed man, woman and child. There was no remorse, no mercy.
"Move aside, or die." Voldemort hissed for a third, and final time. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at Lily's heart, making it clear that he would not ask for a fourth time.
"Kill me, leave my son be," Lily beseeched; denying Voldemort access to her child for a third time.
"So be it." Voldemort said with cold solemnly. "Avada Kedavra!"
A sickly green light left Voldemort's wand and hit Lily square in the chest as she refused to dodge and allow her son to take the hit instead. Lily fell to the floor, eyes vacant in death. Her body was unmarked, like many people before her, Lily's heart had just stopped.
Voldemort turned his wand onto Haydon, and for the third time that night he spoke the incantation for the killing curse. The deadly green light left the yew wand, just as it had hundreds of times before. Then things went wrong.
The green light connected with Haydon's head, but the young boy did not die. Against every known law and rule of magic, the curse that had been labelled as unstoppable, was rebounded.
Lily Potter had been an incredible smart woman. She had known that her family, that her beloved son, was a target for the Dark Lord. With the number of Order members, of friends and family, who had been murdered since the war started, she didn't place trust in the protections that Dumbledore had placed around her home despite the reassurances that it was unbreakable. So, she had begun researching – looking for a way to save her son. All that research had led to the creation of her blood Protection Circle which was based on the bonds of family and the love she held for Haydon. A love far greater than her own life.
The Protection Circle had been powered by her death, her sacrifice, and made more powerful by the same sacrifice made by her husband only minutes before. The Protection Circle was supposed to stop the Dark Lord, or any other, from touching her son with malintent.
What she hadn't added into her calculations was the power of Sanheim – the one night in the year when the veil between the mortal world and the next was lifted. The souls of Lily and James lingered – their desire to protect their son empowered by the magic of the night and anchored to the rune circle.
The magic of the mother and father, anchored by the runes of protection, empowered by the magic of the night and amplified by the power of three; three times the killing curse was cast, three times the mother was asked to stand aside and three magic's powered the circle. Together, these things made a shield of protection far greater in scope than what Lily had predicted, sinking into her sons very blood, and rebounding the third killing curse onto the caster.
Voldemort screamed in pain as his own curse backfired, ripping his tattered soul from his body. Without the magic to maintain his body, it turned to ash.
As Voldemort's soul fled, the house slowly started to collapse – the magical backlash too much for the wards to handle now that the anchors had perished.
Haydon lay under a beam of wood that was inches from hitting him – the only thing stopping it from squishing the young orphan was the sturdy bars of his crib that remained standing. He clutched at the bag his mother had placed beside him, as though it was his favourite teddy – Padfoot who lay on the floor beside his mother's fallen body. For the first time that night, Haydon cried. He cried for his father, his mother, for his Uncle Padfoot or his Uncle Moony to come and take the pain away.
He didn't understand that they were gone. That they couldn't help him; he didn't understand that his pain could only get worse.
How could he?
Original word count: 1,329
New Word Count: 1,832