I own nothing. This belongs to JKR

Hey! Another chapter! Tbh, I couldn't sleep, so I binge wrote another chapter and started on the next.

Thank you for all of the follows and favorites. Those really mean a lot. Again, this a rarity to have a chapter uploaded so close to the previous. I'm still in the process of moving, and don't know when I'll be able to get another one uploaded. Just bare with me. Your support and reviews are motivating and appreciated.

Thank you! Enjoy!

OH! Before I forget. Huge shout to TheBlackResurgence for the Honour Thy Blood part. I'm not stealing. That is completely and utterly his. I'm just using it subtly in a few parts.

AN at the bottom!

Harry followed Barchoke to where they had the carts lined up to take people to their respective vaults. Harry wasn't ashamed to admit that this was one of the more fun things he'd ever experienced in the Wizarding world. He figure he'd drive the goblins mad if he kept insisting a visit to his vault every time he needed a withdrawal.

Once there, they were met by another goblin who was one of the designated cart drivers. After given a nod of acknowledgment to the guard who oversaw the carts, the trio set off towards their destination.

The ride was a bit longer than Harry remembered, going s not deeper than he'd remembered going the last time he were here. Harry didn't mind, he quite enjoyed the ride, as he always had. Harry's excitement must have betrayed him, for Barchoke spoke with the kind of the amusement that didn't cause a shudder. "You're just like James, and Charlus when he was young." The Goblin stated the last as an afterthought.

Harry flushed a little in embarrassment, but he was warned by the fact that it was yet another thing he shared with his father and grandfather.

"Unfortunately, we won't be able to access The Potter family vault." Barchoke spoke up again. "That can only be accessed by the head of the family. But there is another vault that I was instructed by your father to bring you to, in the event of both of your parents passing. It shouldn't have taken this long." The last sentence was growled in s near whisper, but Harry had heard it.

Sobering, and having his curiosity piqued, he followed Barchoke to the vault in question. Vault 113, along with the other vaults on this level, we're vastly different than his trust vault, and even the Weasley's vault. A grand Mahogany double door with iron latches running across it. A crest towards the top was split by both of the doors. It was just as Sirius described it: The head of a dragon with wands crossed underneath. Three words were underneath it, and they were split with the mahogany doors: "Veni, Vidi, Vici".

Harry's mind and heart could only be described as a whirlwind at the moment. He had no idea what his father left for him behind this door. He had no idea what all he might find. The possibilities were endless. He was both apprehensive and excited.

Barchoke's voice broke into his thoughts once again. "Wrap your hand firmly around the handle. Once your ring makes contact with the handle, it should open for you."

"Should?" Harry asked with a touch of fear.

Barchoke merely shrugged. "I've yet to see it not."

Shaking his head, Harry firmly grasped the handle. It was cold to the touch, causing him to gasp slightly, but it soon started to warm until it got too warm to bare. He let go while it continued to glow brighter. Soon, there was a click, and both doors slowly opened inwardly.

The vault was big. No, not big. It was massive. Easily three times the size of his trust vault, but there was hardly any coin within the vault. Instead, it was lined with all different types of armor, grandiose clothing, cups, chests, amulets, and all kinds of different treasures. But there was something that glaringly stood out from the rest. It was a trunk, not too different from his school trunk, that sat a mere five meters in front of him.

This must of been what his father had left for him.

Slowly, Harry made his way towards the trunk. It looked very similar to his school trunk, but it was adorned with the Potter family crest on the top. It didn't appear to be locked, so with a trembling hand, Harry reached to unlatch it. Like the latch to the vault, it was cold to the touch, and Harry felt an odd sensation on his index finger, like he was being pricked. With a click, one side unlatched.

Harry knew he was over thinking this. It was just a trunk. 'A trunk full of your parents possessions'. Harry thought to himself. It wasn't something he ever imagined having, and he didn't know if he wanted to secretly preserve this for himself; or settle his ever curious mind.

Taking a deep breath, Harry unlatched the other strap, and opened the trunk. It had a few different frames with moving pictures, some other Knick-knacks, but what had Harry's attention was two envelopes sitting in the top, both addressed to him. One with the messy scrawl, similar to his own, and the other was a neat cursive, vaguely similar to Hermione's.

Harry both letters delicately in his hands, treating them as if they'll vanish into thin air in a moments notice. At first touch, they felt quite think to contain a simple letter. They must have written him a lot.

Pocketing them for later, Harry picked up the biggest frame in the lot. His eyes widened at what he saw. Two people he noticed straight away, his dad had an arm loving wrapped around his mother. Next to his mother was a women of similar height, but she was much older. She had long, elegant looking black hair with a white streak down one side. Her face was reminiscent of a prim and proper pureblood with high cheek bones and a button nose, but her face was soft, her smile was warm, and she was beaming at a bundle in her arms. With an arm around her, was a burly looking man a few inches taller than his father. He had the same messy black hair that all Potter men had, but his was peppered with white and grey specks; and he had a nice stubble. He too was beaming at not just the bundle in the woman's arms, but the others in the picture as well. While his face may have been warm, Harry could see that this man was not one to take lightly. His eyes and stature radiated power, and he had a scar down the length of his right cheek. He looked like an army general out of one of Harry's textbooks from muggle school.

Barchoke had spoken briefly about his grandparents. His grandmother was brilliant and cunning. A heart of gold, but not someone you wanted to be on the receiving end of her ire. It was why they respected and approved of his mother. She may have been a muggle born, but she was brilliant; and could reign in his father when needed.

Speaking of his father. While the man may have been a bit of a troublemaker, he was fearless, loyal, and fought for what was right. Protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. It may have taken his father a while, but he eventually started emulating Charlus.

Charlus was, and remained until his dying breath, a fearless warrior who had always made the difficult choices. He stood for what was right, and challenged all those who threatened to oppose it. Above all else, he loved and protected his family. Hagrid had once said that there was no greater man than Dumbledore, but after hearing the same words be spoken about his grandfather from Barchoke, Hadrian believes the goblin's word to be true.

It was only now that Harry had seen his grandparents, and he just knew that words couldn't even begin to describe be the type of people they were.

His family.

A family he'd never known existed. A family that had been taken away from him. People that loved him. Loved him because he was family. Loved him, not because he was the boy-who-lived, but because he was family. And it was all taken from him. He'd never really got the chance to know it.

It was that moment, in that vault deep within the vaults of Gringotts, that something changed inside of Hadrian James Potter.

The grief, the loneliness, the starving, the pain, the suffering, all morphed into white, hot anger towards both those responsible for this, as well as life itself.

It started with a tremble, then a wind came from nowhere and started whipping his hair around. A crackle sound could be heard, and unbeknownst to Harry, the air around him had start to grow thick. Even through his misty eyes, his emerald green eyes were a blistering inferno.

'It wasn't fair.' Harry thought, trembling with the onslaught of emotions.

"Mr. Potter"

Harry, no, Hadrian was his name. It was the name that had been given to him from birth. His name was Hadrian James Potter. He was a Potter. Potters were strong, respected, and highly acclaimed.

"Harry"

Harry was weak. Harry was that little orphan boy who lived in a cupboard. Harry was that little boy who trembled in front of adults, and stood down against his bullies. Harry was the one who let fear control him. Harry let others control him. No more. He was Hadrian, and he was a Potter. He was going to start acting like one.

"Hadrian!"

Everything stopped at the sound that permeated his thoughts. The wind had died, the crackling ceased, and after closing his eyes and drawing a ragged breath, the trembling began to lessen.

"Sorry." Hadrian spoke hoarsely. He turned back towards the origin of the noise. Barchoke was eyeing him up and down, appraising him. It was hard to tell, but Hadrian could sense that the goblin liked what he saw.

Barchoke then cleared his throat. "I hate to cut this short, but we still need to access your trust vault."

Hadrian nodded and wiped his eyes, holding the picture while he closed the trunk. He'll come back for the trunk later. He wouldn't notice the hair on the tiny infant of himself changing color until much later.

"And I'm sure your godfather has endured enough of Hooktooth's ire." Barchoke added, making Hadrian chuckle.

Goblin and wizard started to exit the vault, but before they cleared the door, Barchoke stopped him.

"Use it." Barchoke simply said. At Hadrian's confused look, he elaborated. "Use the grief, the pain, the anger to make things right. You do not carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You carry the weight of your family's legacy. Become who you are meant to be. Not the savior of the world, but the next great Lord Potter."

Hadrian sniffed and wiped his eyes again. Nodding strongly, Hadrian spoke with strength and determination. "I will."

Barchoke nodded, and the two carried on back to the cart.

The rest of the trip went on without a hitch. Before Hadrian dumbly started pocketing as many galleons as he could fit into his pocket, Barchoke handed him a pouch. Hadrian thanked him, and filled the bag with more than enough galleons to get him through summer and into the new school year. He was also going to exchange quite a bit for some muggle money.

It wasn't long after that he returned back to the world, and an anxious, excited, and thoroughly cowed godfather.

"Everything alright?" Sirius asked.

Hadrian nodded with a grin. "It's great." He then lifted the pouch to show Sirius. "Should be more than enough to get us through the summer."

Barchoke chuckled, or growled. "It'll last you for the next year, I would say."

Sirius shook his head. "You know I have access to my vaults now, right?"

Hadrian flushed, slightly embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his neck like always. He then shrugged. "It's going to be a long summer."

Sirius laughed. "Oh that it is." He then clapped and made to stand. "Okay, Hooktooth. Thank you for everything. We'll be in touch."

Hooktooth snorted and shook his head. "Of that, I have no doubt." Hooktooth then turned to Harry and grinned, or grimaced. "Heir Potter. It was a pleasure."

"Thank you." Said Hadrian. "And thank you, Barchoke, for everything."

"It was my pleasure Hadrian." Barchoke said genuinely. "I'll make sure my mail find you in the future." Barchoke then turned to Sirius and gave him a neutral look before nodding. "Lord Black."

Sirius nodded to the goblin, then wrapped an arm around Hadrian, and the two wizards left the two goblins.

"Wait." Harry stopped. "Did he just call you 'Lord Black'?

Sirius nodded and they restarted their walk. "Yes, he did. Grandfather never approved of my mother's wishes to cast me out, so now I'm the head of the family."

"You don't want to be." Hadrian stated knowingly.

No Harry, I-"

"It's Hadrian." Hadrian interrupted.

"What?"

"I want to be called Hadrian." Hadrian told Sirius in a tone that was firm but not angry.

Sirius smiled and nodded. "Okay, Hadrian. No, I never wanted to be the head of my family. Truthfully, I haven't wanted to be a Black since I was sixteen."

"Why's that?" Hadrian probed.

"Not here." Sirius said as they stopped at the double doors to the lobby. "I'll meet you back in the back alley."

Hadrian nodded and the two set off to meet back in the alley. There was still quite a bit of time before dinner, so they didn't have to worry about that just yet. Once home, they would send Dobby out to get more supplies for them, while they had a nice long chat about everything that happened today. Hadrian would also be reading the letters his parents left for him.

OoOoOo

Back in Barchoke's office, Barchoke and Hooktooth were discussing today's events over a glass of firewhiskey.

"I take it everything went well with the new Lord Black?" Barchoke questioned Hooktooth with a hint of amusement and curiosity in his voice.

Hooktooth scowled but sighed. "Whether he wants to be or not, he is." He then grinned toothily at his friend across from him. "But once Hadrian meets his majority, he'll takeover the Lordship of the house."

Barchoke's eyes widened ever so slightly. "He is?"

Hooktooth nodded. "You're not surprised?"

Barchoke considered the question for moment, then shook his head. "No. He never wanted it anyway. I'm sure Arcturus would've preferred Hadrian over Sirius anyway. Not that I could blame him."

"You're still wary of him?" Hooktooth asked.

Barchoke eyes narrowed. "Hadrian deserved better than what he got. There's a queue waiting for Sirius in the beyond to tear him apart for what he did."

"I'm sure he'll be forgiven." Hooktooth interjected.

Barchoke laughed an unamused laugh. "Maybe, but if he does anything to hurt young Hadrian again, then I'll personally send him there."

Hooktooth could do nothing more than shake his head. In part, he agreed with Barchoke. Sirius lost his head, like he was prone to doing from time to time, and it not only cost him; but it cost Hadrian years of abuse of suffering. But after giving Sirius a thorough kick up the arse, he was confident that the new Lord Black wouldn't jeopardize his second chance. Hell, Hooktooth could see it in the man's eyes how much Hadrian and this second chance meant to him.

Hooktooth's thoughts were interrupted by Barchoke. "What do you think of his scar?"

"What do you mean?" Asked Hooktooth. He knew the scar was cursed and remakes of dark magic, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"It's a rune." Barchoke stated, knocking back what was left in his glass before it filled again. He hesitated before continuing. "It's in the center of a rune cluster that's branded on every Potter's left forearm. Charlus showed me once before."

Hooktooth eyes widened at that. He thought it was just a random scar left behind from where the spell struck him, but after Barchoke stated it was a rune, Hooktooth was now floored. Indeed. It was a Norse rune that had different meanings and uses. The question now was, what was the rune for?

As of reading his thoughts, Barchoke elaborated. "I'm not sure if they're connected, but the rune cluster on the Potter men were meant for sacrifice."

"Lily sacrificed herself." Hooktooth connected what Barchoke was saying to what they knew of supposedly what happened that night. There were many questions that stemmed from this, but one stook out to Hooktooth above the others. "Why hasn't it faded?"

"I don't know." Barchoke murmured, his eyes staring off in the distance as he contemplated what it all meant. Scars, even scars from a rune that's burned into your skin, should eventually fade over time. The fact that it not only hasn't faded, but reeks of dark magic is troubling, to say the least.

Of course, there were numerous questions surrounding what happened that night. Many of which, pertaining to how the dark lord came to be defeated. Unlike the Wizarding population, the goblins knew better than to think he had simply vanished. No, he was definitely still out there. How? Is definitely a question that shouldn't be left unanswered.

"Do you think Hadrian will be ready?" Hooktooth suddenly asked out of curiosity, apparently sharing the same thoughts as his friend.

Barchoke thought back to what he saw down in vault 113. The power the boy wielded, not even having reached his magical maturity, was extraordinary. It was definitely on par, if not exceeding, that of Charlus'. If he matched that power with the the ruthlessness of Charlus, then his enemies will quiver before him.

Looking back at Hooktooth, Barchoke gave him a feral grin. "Of that, I have no doubt."

ooooo

Dobby popped Hadrian and Sirius back to his room at Privet Drive, then he left with some money to go get some more supplies for them. Hadrian then took out the picture frame he had taken from the vault of his family, and he placed it on his desk at a similar angle to that of the picture of his parents. Looking at it made him smile, and it reminded him of who he was and who he was yet to become.

Sirius put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Four of the greatest individuals you could ever meet." He then sighed, debated on whether or not to say this next part. "And the best family anyone could've ever asked for."

To Sirius' surprise. Hadrian didn't cry. He'd already cried for the family he never got to know. This, this picture, was now his motivation. His motivation, and his goal for what he wants for himself when he's older. Instead, he smiled a small smile and reached into his pockets to retrieve those letters.

"Dad and mum left me something." Hadrian said quietly yet firmly. "They're letters, and I was hoping to read them before we started talking."

Sirius gave him an encouraging nod and watering smile before he took a seat on the other side of the enlarged desk/kitchen table. This was something that had been denied him for too long, and was something that he no doubt would need support once he read what was inside.

Gently, as to not tear it, Harry opened the first letter from his father.

Dear Hadrian,

I guess Ol' Worntail turned coat...

What more can a father say other than, I'm proud of you, son. You've been my pride and joy ever since you were just a small bump in your mother's womb. I'm sorry that things had to be this way. Hopefully you'll never have to read this, but with times as dark as these, I wanted to leave you with this. If you do read this, then it will probably be after I am gone, but I just wanted you to know that no matter what, I am proud of you and will always love you.

If somehow, someway, neither myself or your mother survive, just know that you will have people around you who will love you just as we did. (If not, there will be a line waiting to kick their arses in the beyond.) These people will be your family, Hadrian. Protect your family. Love your family. And when your older(hopefully older than myself, but not as old as Pops) start a family of your own.

There was once a pseudo motto between Pops and Uncle Artie: Honour Thy Blood. It means one of two things: 1. Above all else, protect and love those who are of your blood. And 2. Honour your family, and the one's who have come before you. Always do what is right by your family, never what may be easy or convenient. Being as much Potter as you are Black will not be easy for you, especially given the choices some of our have made, but you should always do what is right by them. I'm not saying give them endless second chances, but help them when they do need it. Sometimes the choices we make aren't our own. We have to live with those consequences all the same, but use your own judgement; and trust yourself and your instincts.

Sirius will hopefully be able to give you more details on the Black side of things. If not, threaten to neuter him. That's what your mother always does, and it's a very useful tactic.

You are a Potter, first. One day, you will be The Potter. Again, I'm sorry I am not there to give you the lessons and guidance that you will need. In all honesty, it's probably for the better. Pops would have been your best option, but this letter will have to suffice. The Potter Family Grimoire should fill in the gaps.

You are a Potter. That alone fills me with pride, and it should fill you with pride. We have Roman origins, and are one of the oldest families on the isle. We are a family of warriors. Not just any warriors, but Bellator Draconis, or 'Warrior of Dragons' in English. (That reminds me, have Sirius pay for a Latin tutor. It should come easy, being of Potter blood. Remus can help find one) In other words, we don't take shit from anyone. We do not go quietly into the night, and we do not let others walk over us. We fight, and we fight hard, until our dying breath. There is evil in this world Hadrian, and it will not hesitate to take away your life, or the people that you love. Protect it. Protect them. And if all else fails, make sure you take the bastards with you. The Potter's have a special trick to ensure just that.

There's an old saying that Pops once told me, and I will now share it with you. Out of 100 people in battle, 10 shouldn't be there. 80 are just targets. 9 do most of the fighting. But there is 1 who is a warrior. 1 who wills his side to victory. As a Potter, you are that 1. You are that 1 that people will look to, and you are that 1 who will strike fear into your enemies. That is the Potter way. I'm trying to be that one, and hopefully I can; but if I'm not, then I have full confidence in you to be that 1. Pops was, and he was the greatest man I have even known. You would do well by being more like him. Except for the purple hair, you look quite a bit like him as a baby. I wish I had taken his lessons more seriously, but I have no regrets.

This is not only true in combat, but in life. Life is hard, and I hope life is easier for you than it is hard; but you have to be willing to work for what you have. Work to become who you want to be. Work so that you can be the difference in other people's lives. Strive for greatness as every Potter male before you has achieved. Veni, Vidi, ViciConquer your enemies. Conquer life. Sow that seed, and taste the fruit of your hard work and dedication.

Now that all of the seriousness is out of the way...

Hadrian, my dear son, live your life to the fullest. Prank that Slytherin, kiss that pretty girl, score many goals in quidditch. Okay, your mum told me to make sure you're not doing too much of that. She thinks I did that way too much, particularly the first, but I came out alright. She married me, didn't she?

Okay, the look that she's giving me is scary, and she's impatiently tapping her foot. She had this done hours ago.

As I look at your mum, and look at the bundle she's carrying in her arms, I can honestly say that my heart is full. If there's anything that you do in life Harry, find a woman that brings you joy. I'm not going to give any pointers, Merlin knows I struggled with this, but when you find the one, you'll just know. It'll come natural, and it'll feel unlike anything you had ever felt in your entire. And just when you feel as if she can't bring you anymore joy, she bares the gift of a son. Earn this Hadrian.

I love you son. More than you will ever know.

Dad

Harry swallowed thickly as he finished the letter. Tears were pooling in his emerald eyes. There was sadness, sure. These were the words of a father passed down to his son, a father that Hadrian had never known. A father that had been taken away from him. His anger threatened, but Hadrian squashed it. He used that to fuel his resolve instead. He was a Potter, like his father before him, and like his father before him. He would be great, and he would make them even more proud than they already are.

Setting the letter down, he then carefully opened the one from his mother. Before he read it, he looked to Sirius, and gave him a nod of approval to read the letter his father had left. After all, it was one of the last vestiges of his best friend.

Dear Harry,

My sweet baby boy. I just laid you down for your afternoon nap. You look so peaceful when you sleep. Watching you sleep blocks out all of the darkness that threatens our world, and more importantly, us. I hope that that peace will carry on with you throughout your life, but if you're reading this, then that's probably not the case.

I'm sorry that I won't be there to hold you when you cry. I'm sorry that I won't be there to read to tuck you in at night. I'm sorry I won't be there to patch you up when you fall from those death traps we magicals call a broom. I'm sorry I won't be there to wish you a happy birthday. I'm sorry I won't be there for your first heart break. I'm sorry for everything that you will miss without having your mother there.

I, we, tried so hard to protect you. I didn't imagine us having to live this way when we brought you into this world, but I wouldn't change a thing. I love our little family. Despite everything, we are making this work, and we're happy.

I'm not sure what all your father will write in his letter, but it will probably pertain mostly to being a Potter, quidditch, how not to get the girl, and Merlin knows what else. I didn't need to be taught by your grandmother to know that Potter men were emotionally skewed. Don't get me wrong, I love your father, but he sure can stick his foot in his mouth sometimes.

You're such a happy and brilliant little boy Harry. I can already tell that you have the best of both of your parents. You'll excel in school, do death defying stunts in quidditch, be light in someone's darkness, and fight for those who can't fight for themselves. I'll leave your father to talk about his family in his letter, but you really come from a line of great and powerful wizards. Most pureblood families talk the talk, but not many can walk the walk like the Potters can.

Hopefully it'll be different once you're in school, but a muggleborn marrying into a pureblood line creates quite the scandal. Don't worry. Your Gramps and Gran never looked down on me for my background. They, surprisingly, welcomed it. I still remember the time I chewed your father out for nearly killing himself in a quidditch match in our seventh year. I had him backed into the corner by the Gryffindor locker rooms, giving him an earful. Imagine my shock when I turn around and Baron Charlus Potter is standing there with his unspeakable wife, Dorea Potter.

I was completely petrified until I heard the booming laugh of your Gramps, and received a smile and wink from your Gram. From that moment on, I had their blessing.

My point: You'll know she's the one when you look at her with fear in those beautiful emerald eyes of yours.

What more can a mother say in a death note to her son? To be honest Harry, I never imagined I'd be writing this. Times are dark, Harry. I've gone to great lengths to ensure your survival. I apologize in advance for the scar that may be on your head, it should've faded with time. That's a trick I got from the Potter's. Sacrificial magic is a beautiful, tragic thing. Don't hate yourself if it came to that Harry. I'd do anything in this world and the next to ensure your survival. The Potter's love to talk of honour, and there's no higher honour for a mother than to give her life for her children.

I love you Harry. My sweet baby boy. I will always be with you.

Love, Mum

Hadrian's vision was blurred so heavily in the beginning it was difficult to read. He wished so desperately to be able to tell his Mum that it was okay. That he didn't blame her or hate her for leaving him. He wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her it's okay, and that he was thankful for what she did that night.

The thought that his parents died because of him always plagued his mind. In a life where he was constantly blamed and degraded for bad things happening due to his mere existence, it's no wonder he felt as though everything happened because of him.

For the second time today, Hadrian cried. He cried for his mother, his father, and the life that he never got to live. At some point, Sirius had got up and wrapped a comforting arm around him. He then cried some more because of Sirius. Sirius, and Hadrian guess but didn't count Moony, were the only family that he had left. He didn't get to have that either for twelve years of his life, and now that he had it, he so desperately clung to it.

Sometime later, Hadrian would return to his mother's letter once Sirius got the time to read it. For now, he fell into his Godfathers warm embrace.

Once the tears had finally run dry, Hadrian sniffed and took a deep breath to calm himself. His mind and body too tired to think or do much else, he climbed into bed for a nap.

Sirius took his glasses off his face and put them on the desk, and made sure to cover Hadrian up with a warm blanket. As Sirius watched sleep claim his Godson, Sirius grabbed the letter from James to begin reading. He'd only gotten so far before he noticed Hadrian start to cry while reading his Mum's letter, so he figured he would come back it later.

Sirius had made it through the letter with sad and happy tears in his eyes. He then chuckled at some of the things James said that pertained to him. 'Oh James.' Sirius thought fondly as he shook his head. He'd get Hadrian a tutor for Latin when Snivellus finally uses some shampoo.

It was during that short snort of amusement that something else from James' letter struck him. Picking up the letter to read it again, Sirius finally got to the line: Except for the purple hair, you look just like him as a baby.

Sirius looked from the letter to Hadrian then back to the letter. Eventually, the gears in his head started to turn, and the thick cobwebs started to clear. With wide eyes, and a slap to the head, Sirius Black remembered something.

'Oh my god. He's a metamorph'

AN: Sorry for the long chapter that basically happens during the same day as previous. This is the last day to day chapter for quite a while. You'll start to see time jumps starting next chapter.

Also, before you come at me for the death letters, I didn't want to do them as you commonly see them done in fandom. I didn't want them to be like, 'Hey. This is what happened that night, this is what's wrong with your scar, this is how bad Dumbles is, and there's a prophecy that say's you're the one to defeat a dark lord so go start training for that and clear Sirius' name, etc etc etc'

Those are quite boring and don't feel real. James' letter was a father talking to his son. Lily's letter was a mother talking to her baby boy. I know the hastily written thing at the end of Lily's letter may seem like that, a hastily written explanation. But imo, it's a mother struggling to find what to say, not knowing what to say, rambling, and trying her best to cap off a death letter to her 1 year old child.

And yes, I know Lily called him 'Harry'. You know, Charlus - Charlie. James - Jamie. Hadrian - Harry. I'll probably have Hadrian of the mind that only those closest to him can call him Harry, if not exclusively his mother.

Also, can you tell I was in my feels??