Harry's four when he starts having trouble seeing; he's five when James notices he's having trouble seeing. He notices when they're watching television (Sirius insists on the muggle invention, and James has to admit it is pretty wonderful), and Harry keeps asking what the score of the football game is. He loves the game, although James thinks it's a bit dull compared to Quidditch, and it James is taken aback when he realizes that his son can no longer really see what is going on in the game. He doesn't want to upset Harry by asking about what can often be a very sensitive subject, but he also doesn't want to show up at an eye doctor's office if he's wrong and it's perhaps something else.

"Harry," James starts, sitting down on the couch next to his son one afternoon after he and Sirius get home from their daily trip to town on the way home from school, "are you having some trouble seeing things?"

The little boy shook his head, color rising in the pale cheeks under the mop of messy black hair.

"It's okay if you are, munchkin, I just want you to tell me so I can help you." James watches closely as Harry chews on his lip, trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth or keep it to himself. "There's nothing wrong with you if you're having trouble, we just need to get you some glasses, that's all." He tries to sound as encouraging as possible, but he's not sure it works until –

"The other kids will make fun of me…" Harry says in a quiet voice, his bottom lip poking out in a pout and quivering slightly.

"Why do you think that?" James asks, a puzzled look on his face.

"Pierre Soucy has glasses and everyone makes fun of him. And… they already think I'm weird." He looks down like he's ashamed and it's the most heartbreaking thing James has ever seen from his little boy, and he hopes that the look he's seeing now is one that never reappears on his son's face.

"Why do they think you're weird, munchkin?" He cocks his head to the side, wondering what could be going on that he didn't know about.

"Because strange things happen around me. Marius Faucher was being really noisy while we were doing work and I told him to stop but he didn't and so I got mad and I told him to shut up and I know I'm not supposed to say it but I got mad and I did and then he tried to talk and he couldn't. I didn't mean to do it! And I don't have a mommy like the others do." Harry bursts forth all the information at once, speaking in a long stream all at once as though he were scared James might be upset by what he had to say.

"Harry, listen to me very carefully," James answers, pulling the little boy in very close as he talks, "you have a mother. She loved you very, very much, munchkin, and she wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, and that's why she's not here."

"Anaïse has two dads…"

"Er, her dads are a little different. But it's really important that you understand that Anaïse and her dads, and you and me, that's not any less of a family than anyone with a mom and a dad. Families come in all shapes and sizes, Harry, there are lots of different kinds, but that doesn't make one better or worse than another."

"Okay." James furrows his brows in thought – he's pretty sure Harry understands his point, but he also worries that maybe it's time to have the conversation, the one he's been dreading for years, the one where he has to explain everything to his son because he's getting old enough where he might start to understand, and he needs to understand. "Daddy, can I go now? I'm hungry…"

"Yeah, sure munchkin. There's some raisins in the kitchen, you can have those as a snack, it'll be time for supper soon."

"Okay." With that, Harry gets up and ventures into the kitchen to find himself a snack, and James rakes his hands over his face and through his hair as he considers what he must do.

After a few minutes, James hears footsteps and opens his eyes to see Sirius bounding down the stairs, looking very pleased with himself.

"What's got you looking so glum, mate?" he asks, cocking his head to the side and peering at James through his mane of shaggy black hair.

"I think it's time to tell Harry everything," James answers, his voice echoing the exhaustion he already feels just at the thought of this conversation.

"Everything?" Sirius replies, letting out a long, low whistle when James nods and plops down next to him on the couch. "Well, Remus and I will be right there with you, you know, for moral support or whatever."

"Thanks," he responds, giving his friend a weak smile.

They set the dining room table that night, something they rarely do (really only on holidays or special occasions), and Lupin cooks up a special roast because that's Harry's favorite. At first, they exchange the typical small talk, discussing the events of the day and school and the affairs of the world, but then James steels himself and plunges into the real issue at hand.

"Harry, you said earlier that sometimes weird things happen to you, do you know why?" James asks, hoping that this is the best way to start.

"Magic," Harry shrugs, and the three adults look at each other, not sure if the little boy really understands and believes it or not.

"Yeah, magic," James replies, and Harry looks up at him, his expression almost reading like surprise, as though he didn't expect his father to believe him. "We're all wizards, Harry, which means we can do magic."

"Is everyone a wizard?" Harry asks, doing his best to follow his father's thoughts.

"No, Harry, not everyone can do magic. Nonmagic people, we call them muggles," Harry nods slightly, recognizing that he's heard the term before, "are much more common, and they don't know about magic. That's why your classmates don't really understand. And it's very important that you don't tell them."

"Why?" Harry questions, his little face scrunched up in confusion.

"Those are the rules," Remus jumps in. "It makes everyone safer that way."

"Okay," Harry accepts, just shrugging in response.

"There's something else I want to talk to you about, munchkin," James ventures carefully, standing to grab one of the few pictures of Lily and Harry they have and placing it on the table in front of them.

"Mommy?" Harry asks, looking between the photo and James, a little apprehensive.

"Yeah. A while ago…" he starts, but he can't seem to get the words out, his voice simply stopping to work.

"A while ago," Sirius picks up, giving James a small nod of reassurance, "there was a very bad wizard, and he thought that wizards were better than muggles, especially wizards called purebloods, which are families that are all wizards all the way back, with no muggle family members. He wanted to get rid of everyone who wasn't a pureblood, and he did a lot of really bad things to try to get what he wanted."

"Your mom and dad, and Sirius and I, were part of a group of people who were trying to stop the bad guy," Remus explains, and Harry looks at them with a little bit of pride, which makes James' heart swell.

"The bad wizard found out that we were fighting him, so when you were born, your mom and I went into hiding. We trusted one person with our location, someone we thought we could trust, but he told the bad guy where to find us, and one night he came looking for us. I wasn't home, it was just you and Mommy, and she fought him to save you, but he… she died trying to keep you safe." James pauses to let Harry take in the information and give him a chance to ask any questions if he has them, but he says nothing.

"Your mom loved you, Harry, more than anything. I hope you know that," Sirius says quietly after a moment, but still Harry stays silent.

"He killed her?" Harry says at last, and James nods hesitantly, and then Harry looks down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Because of me?"

"No!" James answers quickly. "No, Harry. He killed her because he's a terrible wizard. It was not your fault, okay?" Harry nods and stays quiet for a little while, James, Sirius and Remus exchanging looks over his head.

"Can I be excused now?" Harry asks, pushing his chair back from the table slightly.

"Sure, munchkin," James answers, and the young boy stands and carries his plate to the kitchen. A moment later, they hear him trudge up the stairs, the door of his bedroom closing lightly. "I'm not sure how that went," James groans, rubbing his face tiredly.

"I think it was about as good as you could expect," Sirius replies, tucking back in to his dinner, not at all deterred by the dissipation of the heat.

"He'll come around," Lupin reassures him, patting his shoulder gently. "He just needs some time to think, it's a lot to process."

"Yeah, of course."

Harry doesn't come back downstairs the rest of the night, so James goes up to check on him after a while, finding the little boy sitting on his bed, turning a photo of the three of them over and over in his fingers.

"You okay, munchkin?" James asks, leaning against the doorframe as he watches his son.

"Yeah," Harry responds sadly, still staring up at the ceiling. "I can't remember her. I tried to, but I can't."

"I know, you were just a baby. But you have pictures and we can tell you anything you want to know about her." James moves across the room to sit on the bed next to Harry, and when the boy shifts over, he lies down next to him and Harry curls up into his side.

"I miss her, Daddy," Harry whispers into his father's shirt, little hands gripping the fabric tightly.

"I miss her too, munchkin, I miss her too." James presses a kiss to the top of his son's head, ruffling his messy hair.