James Potter knew he wasn't perfect. Sure, he might've thought at one point in his life that he was, but he'd grown up since then. He still tried to be though, not for himself, but for his family. He tried to be a good husband to Lily, but he also tried to be the best possible father to his three amazing children.

All three of them had inherited James' black hair, to his disappointment given that he was so found of Lily's fire red hair, but he couldn't deny it was handy when they had family outings with the Weasley's; if there were any more red heads running around he might loose his own children.

All three of them were also as comfortable on a broom as James himself, though as Lily always said, that was probably as much to do with the fact he'd had them all on toy broomsticks before they could even walk, as much as it was to do with genetics. And they were all in Gryffindor too, another point of pride for their father.

Of course, it wasn't that James had forced any of them to play quidditch, yes he was delighted that they all did, but at the end of the day it didn't matter to him what house they were in or what sports or hobbies they had, he loved all three of them with every breath he took and nothing would have changed that. But still, the fact remained that as he sat in the stands about to watch the Hogwarts quidditch final, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and as he watched his son and two daughters walk onto the pitch all dressed in red and gold, he was filled with so much pride he thought he'd burst.

Harry, the best seeker Hogwarts had seen in years, was in his sixth year and captain of the team. Behind him, both of their raven black hair pulled into tight plaits, their expressions set with grim determination, Daisy in her fourth year and Rose in her third, stood next to their fellow chaser Ginny Weasley. Ron was the keeper, and the two beaters, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote weren't names James was particularly familiar with.

"It's a pity Fred and George have graduated," James said, "They'd be absolutely unstoppable if they were still on the team."

"I think if the entire team was just Weasley's and Potter's it would be seen as blatant favoritism by Harry," Lily said from beside him, amusement lacing her tone.

"Its not favoritism if they're the best," Sirius argued from James' other side, but they all quieted as the match began.

Now, James tried to be as fair a parent as he could when it came to not treating his daughters any different than he treated his son, but as the three girls threw the quaffle between them fluidly, scoring goal after goal against Slytherin, as Ron blocked the quaffle the few times it came down to his end of the pitch and Gryffindors lead became greater and greater, the Slytherin gits became more agressive. At the end of the day, Daisy and Rose were his flowers, as their Dad it was his job to not let anyone hurt them, so sitting there as the Slytherins fouled again and again was like torture, and Lily had to physically stop him from pulling out his wand and cursing the slimy gits, but as he watched the game, he was also filled with even more pride for them. Daisy and Rose may be his flowers, but they certaintly weren't fragile, nor was Ginny. As the Slytherin's started to get rough, they gave as good as they got, well able to handle themselves.

Then Harry dived, he hurtled to the ground so fast, Lily let out a small shriek from beside him, but Harry wasn't the best seeker for nothing, seconds before he would've crashed into the ground, he pulled up, fist raised above him, the snitch clasped firmly in his grasp. Malfoy was still on the otherside of the pitch, not even having noticed the other seeker diving. Gryffindor broke out with applause as they won the match 210 to 20.

And as James watched the team land, happiness shining on their faces, watched his three children hugging eachother with delight, he wasnt embarrassed at the tears that leaked from his eyes, because no one who felt this amount of love or pride for their children would have been able to contain it.