Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.


James Potter tapped his right foot impatiently as the brass, grated lift lurched towards the seventh level of the Ministry of Magic. Although he has never been too concerned with being punctual, his new boss was a stickler for the rules and demanded proper behaviour from her subordinates. James sighed in relief as the lift grinded to a halt and opened its grilled doors with a chime.

'Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office.'

He hurried out of the lift towards the offices designated to the British and Irish Quidditch League division of the department, opening a door that had a brass plaque nailed into the wood which read.

James C. Potter

Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports

The office was large but sparsely decorated. The walls were covered with posters of various quidditch teams, and a discarded stand with half a dozen spreadsheets occupied a corner of the square room. On the desk there was only an animated miniature broomstick lazily floating between three miniscule hoops and three picture frames.

One was of Harry and Holly taken three years ago, Harry carrying his sister in a piggyback with the two hollering at the camera with broad grins on their faces as Harry raced Holly across their garden at home. It was by far his favourite photograph that he kept in his office.

The next was one of Lily on their wedding day, looking radiant in her wedding gown with honeysuckle braided into her hair. She was laughing and beaming at the camera and her emerald eyes were glittering as she glowed with happiness.

The final one was of James, Sirius, and Remus in their sixth year at Hogwarts, clad in their Gryffindor robes and sprawled across the sofas in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. It was one of the only pictures of his friends that he had left, being one of the few ones without Peter in them.

At the thought of his old friend his mood darkened slightly, as it always did when Peter entered his thoughts.

It was because of Peter that he was in his current job. James and Sirius had become aurors immediately after leaving Hogwarts, believing it the most effective way they could combat Voldemort.

When they discovered Peter's treachery after Voldemort's defeat however, their attention became solely focused on bringing their old friend to justice. It had taken three years to find him, determined to confront the man and learn why he had betrayed them.

After Peter was sent to Azkaban, James felt like a shell of himself. Although Lily said she understood, he knew that he had been a neglectful husband and father in those years, and with Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters killed or imprisoned, he had little desire to continue being an auror with all the stress the job had given him. He had chosen the career solely to fight against tyranny, but the personal cost and the potential to leave Lily a widow and Harry fatherless, after he had so narrowly avoided death that Halloween night, had him rethinking his career plans.

Lily had advised him to pursue something he loved, so he settled into the British and Irish Quidditch League division of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The at the time newly appointed department head, Ludo Bagman, jovially accepted him with welcome arms.

He didn't mind the work, he loved quidditch after all, but he had little attachment to the day-to-day activities of his job and its main appeal was that the environment was so relaxed he could essentially do anything he wanted and would always be home by five pm to spend time with his family.

Or that had at least been the case until a few months ago.

James was in the process of shrugging off his cloak and chucking it carelessly over the back of his chair when one of his subordinates, a rather boring fellow called Gregory Tibbs, poked his head into his office.

"Ms Dingby wants to see you in her office Mr Potter," he droned, causing James to sigh frustratedly as he reluctantly exited his office towards an ash-coloured hardwood door that had an identical plaque to the one on his own door, except that it read:

Catherine S. Dingby

Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports

James rapped his knuckles against the door which, despite its seeming permanence, was a new addition the floor. Bagman didn't have a door when he occupied the space, he would cheerily invite passers-by in for a gossip and there was usually a group of department members lounging in there at all hours of the day.

A terse 'enter' had him opening the door to an office that was even more bereft of decoration than his. There were no photos or quidditch posters, only neatly organised folders, and documents atop a vast and thick oak table, behind which sat a comparably petite woman of thirty years of age dipping a brown feather quill into an ink pot. She had dark blonde hair tied up into a bun and was dressed in plain black robes.

"An interesting new look Potter," she commented, "personally I've never seen the appeal of dyeing my hair, but to each their own. The moustache is nice though, it's rare to see one quite so… magisterial, nowadays."

'Bloody Sirius,' cursed James, retrieving his wand from his robes and hastily charming his features to their original visage.

Dingby gestured to the straight-backed chair in front of her desk and returned to writing her letter, causing James to fidget impatiently. They both knew he was there to be reprimanded for arriving to work late, and he wished she would just get on with it.

"Perhaps I should come back later," he snarked.

Her brown eyes, flecked with yellow, flickered up to his.

"If you arrived at work on time we could have spoken then, and neither of us would be kept waiting. But you didn't, and so now here we are. Considering that I have been waiting in this office an hour and a half for you to be ready to come to work, you will sit there and wait until I am ready."

She went back to her letter without bothering to see his reaction, which was limited to biting his cheek so that he didn't utter an impulsive retort.

Dingby was finished a short while later, tapping the parchment with her wand, which promptly folded itself and flew out of the office in the shape of a, what did Lily say they were called, air-go-planes?

James nodded to himself, that sounded about right. He was well aware of just how talented he was, but at times even he was amazed at just how much he knew about muggle life.

"Writing anything interesting?" he asked casually.

"Only a letter for Barty Crouch's office; the man hasn't responded to my letters for the last couple of days, and I need their involvement in encouraging the Egyptians to relax their tariffs on the British leather imports they use in the uniform of their quidditch teams," she supplied.

James wished he hadn't asked now. He couldn't care less about leather exports or why they were important, and he hadn't met a man who personified the word boredom more than Barty Crouch. He'd much rather she spoke to the Department of International Magical Co-operation about his European project that he had been pushing for approval.

"Well Potter, what's the excuse?"

"A perfectly legitimate one chief," he promised with a winning smile, "It was the kids first day at Hogwarts, me and Lily were dropping them off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. We even took them early so I wouldn't be too late."

"I see," she said simply, steepling her fingers. "Tell me Potter, did you see signs in the Atrium this morning declaring that ministry employees had the morning off?"

"No," he responded uncomprehendingly.

"And if you were to walk down Diagon Alley now, would you see shops with signs saying they were closed for the day?"

"I would not," he said, more than a little lost regarding the point of this questioning.

"You would not," she echoed, "because magical Britain does not have an annual holiday on September 1st so that parents can say goodbye to their children. You would not, because even the most incompetent of administrators can realise how inefficient that is. You would not, because common ministry policy is that any parent wishing to do so has to get permission from their direct superior to have hours off, which you did not ask for."

"I was taking them out of my holiday time," retorted James.

"You know as well as I do Potter that you used the last of your annual leave on your son's birthday, so don't feed me that drivel."

'Bollocks,' swore James silently, who no choice but to squirm as Dingby pinned him to the chair with her falcon-eyed gaze. She was silent for a couple of minutes before she spoke again.

"Do you know why I promoted you to be my Deputy Head when I got this job, Potter?"

James shrugged, a lot of things that had happened in the department since Dingby took over had left him baffled to be honest, and getting promoted to the second highest position in the department a couple of months ago was at the top of the list.

A little over a year ago there was no sign of an approaching shake up within the department. They were preparing to host the Quidditch World Cup final, a spectacle that they had spent half a decade organising and had successfully campaigned to reintroduce the Triwizard Tournament to take place that following Autumn at Hogwarts.

Initially it appeared that the World Cup final had been a success, Ireland and Bulgaria's Viktor Krum had given fans a brilliant spectacle. The Potters had secured seats in the top box to his and Harry's delight, and not even Fudge's obsequious behaviour had diminished their enjoyment.

No, it was the appearance of a group of Death Eaters trying to relive their glory days that well and truly ruined the occasion.

Fortunately, no one was killed, though the dark mark was cast, and being able to assist the aurors in apprehending Avery and Crabbe gave him immense satisfaction, but Britain and the departments responsible for organising the tournament were savaged by the international press. Crouch, the wily political animal that he was, succinctly ensured that all the blame was placed on the Department of Magical Games and Sport for the incident, rather than his own office.

James had no great loyalty to his department; however, it was the rest of the Death Eaters escaping justice that bothered him. He knew for certain who was behind those masks, he'd even seen Lucius Malfoy's blond hair for goodness sake! And yet all of them had destroyed any evidence linking them to the incident, had alibis with witnesses, and suppressed any attempts to reopen investigations into their claims that they had been serving Voldemort under the imperius curse after Avery and Crabbe were shipped off to Azkaban.

It was maddening.

The Triwizard Tournament had been a success, in the sense that no one had been tortured, like at the World Cup, or disembowelled, like in previous tournaments. The only downside in James' opinion was that Amos Diggory had become even more insufferable ever since his son won the blasted thing, being able to talk of little else.

The department had little time to celebrate their successful inauguration of the tournament and seeming revival in their public image before Ludo Bagman was on the run for swindling his goblin creditors and others out of money that he owed them.

Further reporting by the Daily Prophet revealed that over half of the division heads in the department, including James' own, were guilty of embezzling funds out of the department, tax evasion and broader corruption of their powers of office.

With most of upper echelon of the department arrested, Catherine Dingby, a young, relatively inexperienced ministry official who had previously overseen administering floo powder usage of all things, became the new Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sport.

Lord knows what she said to Fudge's undersecretary in her interview to get the job, but within a week of Bagman's abrupt exit from public life she was established in his office and proceeded to fire nearly all the remainder of the senior officials in the department before promoting James to be her second in command.

He had been stunned when she offered him the job; he had given his acceptance only after hearing from Lily and the kids how happy and proud they were of him, regardless of the fact that he didn't particular care for the position.

"I selected you to be my Deputy Head Potter, because in this cesspool of a department, you were the only person with a shred of decency who was also good at his job," supplied Dingby.

"Cesspool's a bit of a strong word don't you think," remarked James.

Dingby opened one of the draws in her desk and pulled out a ring binder bulging with documents, which she promptly dropped in front of him where it landed with a dull thud.

"This," she pointed with a finger, "contains the profiles of the seventy-two members of this department that I have removed since I became department head. Over forty of them were discharged for having a history of workplace harassment towards young women, who when asked revealed a history of being on the end of inappropriate and suggestive remarks that ultimately had them seeking alternate employment.

This branch of the ministry has become a boys club that has normalised misogyny and exclusive practices in the workplace over decades of hiring arrogant and retired or failed quidditch players who strut around thinking they're the second coming of Merlin, and by Morgana, I will break that environment if it's the only thing I do in this job! So, no Potter, I think cesspool was the perfect word," she finished, breathing heavily.

Dingby had a point. James had witnessed first-hand how some of the more established individuals in the department behaved, and their actions were often unconsciously mimicked by newer employees. Not to mention the noticeable absence of any women in senior positions until Dingby became department head. Indeed, most failed to progress beyond secretarial roles, and Lily had more than once commented on the toxicity of his workplace whenever she visited.

That had all changed when Dingby took charge of the department. Most observers expected that she would be laughed out of the department by more established figures for her youth and inexperience; she was the youngest department head in two centuries and had never worked in a relevant field before.

That assumption lasted about nine minutes and four seconds, when she was wolf whistled as she walked to her new office on her first day. Dingby sacked the offender on the spot as well as a bystander who chuckled, before laying off over twenty people by the end of the day and introducing strict restrictions on how her subordinates should behave. This included punctuality, smart dress, and tracking how productive workers were.

A further nineteen people were fired for failing to meet these standards by the end of the first week. The result was that rather than being intimidated away from the Department of Magical Games and Sport, Catherine Dingby had it grasped in a stranglehold that had the department attacking their work with a fearful intensity.

Part of James marvelled at how quickly she had turned the department around, and admired Dingby for making it a place where Holly would be able to work unmolested when she was older if she so wished.

Another part thought of her as the second coming of McGonagall, sent to interrupt his relaxed working existence the same way his old head of house did when he was at Hogwarts.

His reflections were interrupted yet again by one of Dingby's speeches.

"I chose you despite your character flaws-"

'Harsh,' he thought.

"-because I'd hoped your new position would instil you with some responsibility."

'Did you really?' James chuckled to himself, 'bless your heart, that was never going to happen.'

"When you turn up to work whenever you like, you suggest to others that the rules they are forced to follow don't apply to us, which disrupts any semblance of a fair and productive workplace environment," she concluded.

James sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine, I'll make sure I arrive on time from now on. Are we done?"

"Not quite," Dingby replied primly, "I did want to discuss your European Project proposal with you this morning."

That got James' attention.

He had been developing the European Project for five years, and it was one of the few aspects of his work that he legitimately loved.

It began when Harry was ten years old and was rambling at the dinner table about a football game (some sort of muggle sport that involved kicking a ball instead of throwing or catching it or whacking it with a bat like any other civilised sport) that he had seen the previous day at a birthday party one of the more popular boys in his muggle primary school had invited him to.

He had paid the expected amount of attention to begin with, nodding his head and voicing the appropriate interjections.

"That sounds amazing Harry," he had commented absentmindedly whilst spearing some penne with a fork.

"It was incredible Dad," exclaimed Harry, "Marseille beat AC Milan 2-0 and knocked them out, and Milan were the champions last year!"

At this James had become confused. His geography was not the best by any stretch of the imagination, but he was fairly certain Marseille and Milan were not in the same country. He said as much to Harry.

"It's the European Cup Dad," his son had explained impatiently, "the best teams from all across Europe play against each other until there's only two left! And whoever wins the final are crowned the champions of Europe!"

James had been flabbergasted.

The idea was reality altering, it was out of this world, it was preposterous.

It was so simple.

He then eagerly drank in what Harry was saying, asking him about the format, who else was left in the competition, where was the final held.

All the while his mind was abuzz with dreams of a quidditch equivalent, where the Montrose Magpies played against the Quiberon Quafflepunchers and the Vratsa Vultures played the Heidelberg Harriers.

For the next six months, he took advantage of Bagman's complete lack of interest in whether he completed any of his assigned projects in the department by researching how the footballing European Cup was set up and how it might be implemented for quidditch.

He had waited years before bringing it to Bagman's attention, making sure he was in a senior enough position that no one would steal his idea for their own. While understandably excited, Bagman highlighted the upcoming Quidditch World Cup and Triwizard Tournament that were the current priorities for the department, telling James that they would reconvene when the latter had concluded.

Then Bagman went on the run from goblins and Dingby had taken the helm.

James had presented his proposal to her early on, before she had even promoted him in fact, and she said she would review it and get back to him.

That had been months ago now and James had begun to think she had forgotten.

James sat bolt upright. "Well, what do you think?" He asked nervously.

Dingby sighed regretfully and looked at him with a pitying expression, and James' heart sank.

"It is a very thorough proposal, and you have taken into account the differences that will have to be considered between the muggle sports that I'm assuming were your inspiration and your suggested model superbly."

"But?" James grit out.

"This department is in a state of transition Potter and has experienced a series of upheavals in the past months. I do not believe rocking the boat again, as implementing such an extensive and innovative tournament will do, when our employees are beginning to settle into their new routines would be wise. Not to mention that this department cannot afford another scandal if this goes wrong, the less publicity for us now the better, we need to be taken seriously again by the public we serve."

"It's the Department of Magical Games and Sport, it's not supposed to be serious," yelled James exasperatedly. "Look, if we pull this off, we'll have all the positive press that we need!"

"Acting without a care in the world is what tarnished this department's reputation to a level never before seen in the Ministry!" Dingby rebuked, raising the volume of her voice to match his. "You are the deputy head of an entire department, and I highly doubt your time can be split to focus on this tournament as well. If you wish we can revisit this in a year's time when things have stabilised, but until then, I will not give my approval."

Another year! Another year of being put off. He had hoped someone as proactive as Dingby would give him the greenlight but apparently not.

"Great," he spat angrily, "so I guess I should go back to my office and field complaints and listen to reports on how gobstones can be made more appealing to the younger generation or other such nonsense!"

"There is more to a management role than that," chided Dingby.

James stood up and turned to the door, before Dingby called his name.

"James," she said softly, "you submitted an excellent proposal. It demonstrates the passion and qualities that highlight, despite my criticisms, why you are a fine deputy head for this department."

He exited her office without a word.


'That's another one done,' thought James sardonically as his meeting with the Grandmaster of the British Chess Collegiate concluded. He shook the man's hand and was soon left in blissful solitude in his office.

Since his meeting with Dingby he had been subject to meeting after meeting, having to work through his lunch break to catch up on what he had neglected this morning.

He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, his thoughts in tatters since Dingby spoke to him.

For the most part he liked and respected Dingby, she had transformed the department against all odds and her policies were clearly effective. She was certainly making him more productive.

Which was part of the problem.

For the last decade he had been allowed to ignore the more tedious aspects of his job and had for the last few years dedicated his time to establishing the Quidditch European Cup. Dingby, however, had brought that to grinding halt.

He somewhat understood her points; she had staked her reputation on cleaning up the department and the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup last year demonstrated how organising largely publicised events could backfire.

Yet he knew in his gut that he could make his European Project a success and moreover, it was something that he enjoyed doing. If the string of mind-numbing meetings he had been stuck in for the past few hours had proved anything, it was that he no longer cared for his job in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

The thought of going through this for the rest of his working life as an office administrator sent a shudder through James' shoulders. When had he become so boring? Would he go to bed every night thinking of spreadsheets?

Sweet mother of magic, anything but that!

Dingby had even called him decent earlier. Is that how his co-workers at the Ministry saw him? Only his friends and family were supposed to think he was decent!

Perhaps he should prank someone to dispel the notion. That blowhard Amos Diggory was the ideal candidate. Maybe he could hex him so that every time Diggory says 'my son', he spontaneously shits himself.

James would demote himself if he thought there was the slightest chance that Dingby would approve the European Project, but he knew she had made up her mind and in the months he had known her Dingby had shown no indication that she would reverse a decision like that. Besides, now that exceeding given targets was an integral part of the department, he doubted being in a less senior role would be any more enjoyable.

"Mr Potter," called Tibbs, who poked his head into the open doorway, "I just checking if you wanted me to bring a full breakdown on the percentile increases of the submission of ludicrous patents to the meeting at half nine tomorrow, or if a summary will do?"

"Eh, just the summary Greg," responded James hastily, hoping to nip any suggestion of an exhaustive breakdown of figures in the bud, "no need to work into the night for it when you could be spending time with Amanda and the girls instead."

"You got it sir," nodded Tibbs solemnly before plodding away.

'No sense of fun that one,' observed James, 'it's times like this that I really miss working with Sirius.'

James nodded his head resolutely as he came to a decision. He didn't want to leave Dingby in the lurch, but he also knew he no longer wanted to work in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Still, perhaps he could arrange a leaving gift for Dingby?

First things first though, he'll have to clear his schedule for the rest of the day.

"You wanted to see me, Potter?" Dingby queried as James sat in the chair in front of her desk, placing the bound folder he was carrying in his lap.

"Yes." James wondered just how to navigate this conversation before deciding to get straight to the point. Dingby had never seemed a person who had much time for ditherers.

"I'm resigning," announced James.

He was treated to Dingby's mouth opening agape, her eyes following suite in a shocked expression he had never before seen from his unshakeable superior.

"Pardon," she questioned aghast, to which James repeated himself.

Valiantly, Dingby tried to rally herself. "If this is about my rejection of your European Project Potter, then-".

"It's not," interrupted James, "at least not entirely. It would have been fantastic to get it approved and all, but even if you did it would only delay the inevitable.

You're a brilliant department head Catherine, but I'm never going to be. I don't have your passion or energy for what we're undertaking, and I don't want to spend the rest of my working life doing something I have little interest in."

Dingby was silent for several minutes before clearing her throat. "I appreciate that James," she began, "but you are an integral part of this department, more than you realise. You understand the focus of this department more than I ever will, and you're popular and respected with your colleagues. You function as the counterbalance to how tough I have had to be to revive this department."

Dingby than swallowed thickly. "If James Potter, the father of the Boy Who Lived, quits, it'll be seen as an indictment of everything I have done in the past months. My leadership style, my policies, my future career? All of it will be disgraced."

"Let's not get overdramatic chief," said James in what he hoped was a calming voice. For the time that he had known her, Dingby had always presented an austere persona, but her words had him comprehending just how young she was to be in her position, and how much pressure she must be placing on herself to succeed.

"I've worked here for nearly twelve years Catherine, and for four years beforehand I was with the DMLE. In that time, I have never seen anyone as capable at leading a division as you are, except maybe Mad-Eye Moody. You're going to be fine without me."

At this James placed the folder he had been carrying in front of Dingby.

"I've spent the afternoon compiling a dossier on potential replacements from the people I know in the department, their strengths, weaknesses, favourite flavour of ice cream. Little things like that. There're also the contacts I've accumulated from the important names in the private sector, including the Chairperson's of most British and Irish Quidditch teams, and profiles on our counterparts in Asia and Europe."

Dingby thumbed through the opening pages. "This is very… generous James. And more thorough than any work I've ever assigned you as it so happens. I would still ask that you stay however."

James smiled a little sadly. "My mind is made up. You know my address, I am only ever an owl away if you want whatever expertise you believe I possess, or if you want me to facilitate a meeting with any of the external parties included in that dossier, I'd be more than happy to do so. More than happy."

Dingby eyed him with annoyance. "If you were even a mite more disagreeable than you currently are I'd sack you on the spot. At least then I'd reaffirm my authority."

"I wouldn't mind that, the severance package for ministry officials in my position is quite generous," observed James sagely.

Dingby snorted and reached into one of the many draws of her desk to bring out a single piece of parchment. She then dipped her quill into the adjacent ink pot a couple of times.

"Well, there's half an hour left until the end of day, and you can spend that time helping me plan how we're going to reveal your abrupt departure to the rest of the team," she said.

"I- I thought I'd be able to go home early, considering that I don't actually work here anymore," said James, glancing longingly at the clock hung on the wall to the side.

"Like hell you are. I'm going to have to cover your duties for the foreseeable future until I appoint your successor, so I'm going to rinse you for whatever productivity you have left in you. Ideas, now," she ordered.

James sighed mournfully.


Lily Potter was irritatingly bored.

Being a stay-at-home mum had never been too much of trial for her. She loved her children more than any potential career she would pursue after all and took joy in learning and teaching subjects to Harry and Holly.

Except those same children were now absent and would be until Christmas.

When she arrived home after having tea with Remus and Sirius, Lily had cleaned the house, a chore made infinitely easier with cleaning charms. Afterwards, she had walked up to the local One Stop in Godric's Hollow and bought the odd food items she thought they were running low on and proceeded to take a leisurely walk around the village. Occasionally she would stop and have a quick catch up with someone from the village she recognised before heading home.

She then tended to the petunias in the flowerbeds and mowed the grass, after which she took a shower to clean off before ambling her way into the living room and plonking down onto one of the sofas with a huff.

She could always visit Bathilda tomorrow for lunch and had numerous books she had bought and had yet to read, but that painted a dull portrait of how she would spend her days without Harry and Holly to fill her time.

Her stupor was disturbed by the fireplace crackling with the emerald, green flames that signalled the use of floo powder as her husband stepped out of the grate with weary lines under his eyes but a cheery grin all the same.

Lily reciprocated his smile and stood up to greet him with a tight hug, nestling into the crook of his neck.

"Welcome home sweetheart," she greeted, though her voice was muffled.

"What's wrong," he asked, "upset about Harry and Holly? I admit they've been on my thoughts as well. I know they seem a shoe in for Gryffindor, but I keep thinking about that time they applied superglue to the insoles in my shoes, and I can't help but think they've got enough deviousness to get sorted into Slytherin. It's been giving me heart palpitations all day just thinking of them decked in green and silver."

Lily felt her lips curl into a smile as she detached herself, knowing James was being dramatic on purpose to distract her.

"I just missed you all today," she admitted.

At this James' eyes gleamed with an excitement that had Lily instinctively on edge.

"Well, allow me to assuage your fears my love," he proclaimed.

"What have you done?" Lily probed warily.

"For one thing you won't be alone tomorrow."

"James," she pushed warningly.

"I quit my job," he announced.

Lily blinked, stunned. That had not been what she was expecting.

"I… is this a joke?" She felt the need to double check, one could never be too sure with James Potter.

Her husband frowned. "No? I told Dingby I was resigning. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all! It's just very sudden, you surprised me." Lily hurried to mollify James.

They both sat down facing each other, James grasping her hands in his and slowly dragging his thumb over her knuckles in a repetitive motion.

"I've been apathetic about the role for a long time." Lily nodded, having known for years how James felt about his work.

"Today, I don't know. Dingby rejected my proposal for a Quidditch European Cup and I had an epiphany, if that's not too grandiose a term, that I didn't want to spend the rest of my working years becoming a desiccated husk of a man who never had a job that, deep down, I really wanted to do. Does that make sense?"

It more than made sense; it was a feeling that Lily was finding increasingly familiar. She nodded her assent.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I know how much working on that competition meant to you. Do you know what career you want to pursue instead?"

"I have absolutely no idea, nothing in the ministry or behind a desk that's for sure!" James said joyously. "I'll start searching tomorrow and having a think."

Lily smirked. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting your midlife crisis for another decade."

"This is not a midlife crisis," he corrected imperiously, "This is an impromptu and liberating adjustment, that's all."

"If you say so darling," Lily acquiesced, leaning forward, and sharing a long kiss with her ruffled husband.

James broke off the kiss suddenly and looked at Lily with excitement. "You should look for a job as well!"

Yet again, James Potter exhibited his ability to shock his wife into silence, leaving Lily scrambling for a response.

"You're full of ideas today, aren't you?" Lily commented wryly.

"I'm serious," chortled James, "you're a great mum, but Harry and Holly won't be living here for nine months of the year now that they are at Hogwarts."

His eyes than had a fevered look in them. "When we left Hogwarts we had so many dreams about what we would do and who we would be, and with fighting Voldemort and protecting Harry they fell to the wayside. But the kids aren't here now, we have the chance to pursue our passions."

"Well, what would I even do?" Lily retorted, feeling slightly flustered but also enraptured by James' impassioned words.

"Whatever you want to! You were the brightest person in our year and the most amazing person I have ever met. It would be a crime to keep a witch as brilliant as you are and with so much to give to the world wallowing in an empty house."

Lily's eyes were bright and glistening as they stared at James' hazel ones.

"Come on Lily. The kids are starting their adventure, we should have ours. For old times' sake if nothing else," urged James.

"Alright then, let's do it," whispered Lily, who futilely bit her bottom lip but couldn't stop her face splitting in half with a broad smile, laughing as James embraced her and pushed her against his chest tightly.

"Another great idea I've had," murmured James in her ear, his breath causing goosebumps to pimple down her neck, "is that we have the house to ourselves. Completely. Alone. I can't even remember the last time we were alone in this house."

"How long did it take you to come to that realisation," hummed Lily, her breath hitching at the thought.

"About two minutes after Harry said he was going to Hogwarts," confessed James, eliciting a surprised laugh from his wife.

"Later tonight," promised Lily decisively, "we've got an open floo to Sirius and Remus, and I don't want to risk either of them popping their heads through."

"To be fair, it's nothing Sirius hasn't seen before," reasoned James.

"That was one time, and if you'd locked the door, like you said, it would never have happened! And I thought we'd agreed never to speak about that again," hissed Lily, "I couldn't look poor Sirius in the eye for a month!"

James raised his hands in surrender, chortling all the while. It was then that Lily remembered something.

"There was something funny about Sirius after you left for the ministry."

"Doesn't surprise me," shrugged James, "Sirius is a funny bloke."

"We were eating at this café," continued Lily, ignoring James, "and he knew the menu off by heart, and the name of all the baristas. When we left, he spoke about all these heritage sites and touristy places in the nearby area."

"Ok…" enunciated James, clearly lost.

"Well how does Sirius know so much about muggle London, and that café," huffed Lily exasperatedly.

"What can I say Lily, he's a knowledgeable guy. Sirius is a… what did you call it? Reggae sauce man?"

"Renaissance man James, Renaissance man," corrected Lily impatiently, "and he most certainly is not, especially where it relates to muggle life."

"He's probably had to explore the area when he's hunted a dark wizard or something," dismissed James, shifting uncomfortably, "best to forget about it if you ask me."

Lily eyed James suspiciously.

"You know something," she stated.

James looked momentarily alarmed, before plastering a cocky grin on his face. "I know lots of things darling. I am pretty amazing like that."

Lily folded her arms. "Spill it Potter," she ordered.

"You're a Potter too you know," James reminded her, before smiling goofily, "gosh, you know I never get tired of thinking that. Have I told you how much I love you recently?"

"James!"

"Alright," her husband sighed defeatedly.

"If you must know," he said haltingly, "Sirius has a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend?" Lily whispered disbelievingly. "But why-"

"She's a muggle. He met her towards the start of the year and they began seeing each other a few months ago. She lives around that area of London and obviously doesn't know a thing about magic, so they mainly go on dates locally."

"This is unbelievable," muttered Lily. "How long have you known?"

"Since about the end of March," admitted James.

"March!" Lily shrieked. "Why didn't you tell me? Have you met her?"

"I have not, and Sirius asked me not to," replied James simply, "he's quite nervous, what with the Statute of Secrecy, and thinks she could be something permanent. He didn't want to get everyone's hopes up in case it doesn't last."

"What's her name? Tell me everything you know," pleaded Lily.

"Her name's Ashley, and that's all I'm saying," answered James resolutely, "I'm not betraying Sirius anymore. He can tell you the rest when he's ready."

"Fine, fine," Lily conceded, her mind whirling with this revelation.

The two sat in silence for a long time, before James recommended walking into Godric's Hollow for some fish and chips for dinner. As the two strolled along the pavement, gloved hands clasping each other's, James made a further observation.

"They'll probably have been sorted by now," he said. Lily hummed her agreement.

"I was thinking that too."

James was quiet for a moment "Where-"

"Gryffindor," said Lily firmly, "I have no doubt." She knew her children after all.

"I'd think so too," agreed James tentatively, "but the hat has made some… questionable decisions before, and I worry that we'll jinx it if we say that they'll be Gryffindors."

Lily knew they were both thinking about Pettigrew then and sighed.

"We'll know by tomorrow darling. And we will support them no matter what the outcome is."


The automated announcement of which level of the ministry the Department of Magical Games and Sports is on was quoted directly from the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

There I was, dusting off my old copy of Quidditch through the Ages to cross reference something, and I read that there has actually been a quidditch European Competition for centuries in HP canon.

Because of course there is.

I've made it AU that in this fanfic there wasn't a European Cup because I wanted to get this posted and thought after rewriting much of wizarding history post 1981, the lack of European competition would be comparatively negligible.

If the lack of European Cup before 1995 in this universe is considered by some readers to be too much of a break from canon however, I can only apologise. If it helps, that AC Milan vs Marseille game that Harry watched did actually take place. So that's something.

Harry and Holly will be sorted next chapter, never fear.

I should have probably made clear in the first chapter that this story will be slice of life-esque, and although Harry will be taking centre stage, all the Potters will have their own things going on that I will be writing about.

Recommendation this chapter are two Haphne one shots that I think don't receive as much attention as they deserve. Firstly, Finding Balance by Chereche. Secondly, Leap by AlexL61.

Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, and I'll see you all for Chapter Four.