Hogwarts – Headmaster's office
01st November, 1981 before dawn
The Headmaster's office was a place untouched by time, where every object seemed to bear the weight of history. A soft light bathed the circular room, filtered through tall windows that caught the last glimmers of the moon. On the walls, portraits of former headmasters observed in silence, while various silver instruments murmured gently, animated by a subtle magic.
A grand desk, carved with an elegance that seemed almost alive, stood in the centre of the room. Nearby, the Sorting Hat rested on its shelf, and perched on a golden stand, Fawkes, the Headmaster's phoenix, slumbered peacefully. Further away, a monumental fireplace, connected to the Floo Network, served both as a passageway and a link to the outside world.
Without warning, emerald flames erupted in the hearth, casting flickering green reflections on the stone walls. The sudden crackling roused Fawkes, who opened one disgruntled eye.
Albus Dumbledore appeared within the fireplace, holding Minnie, the Potters' cat, who purred loudly against his chest. In his wake, Rubeus Hagrid and Sirius Black stepped out in turn, the latter clutching his godson tightly, his gaze dark with worry.
Aware that he had disturbed his long-time companion's tranquillity, Dumbledore inclined his head slightly.
'My apologies, Fawkes. It is indeed a late hour.'
The bird, with wounded dignity, gave a slow nod before closing his eyes once more, a sign that he forgave… for now.
Sirius tightened his hold around little Harry.
'What do we do now, Professor?' he asked, his voice taut. 'My flat's no place for a baby…'
Dumbledore raised a reassuring hand.
'We shall discuss it in the morning. For now, get some rest. A guest room has been prepared.'
He gestured towards a discreet door, hidden near the fireplace. Sirius and Hagrid exchanged a surprised glance.
'Professor? I'm sure tha' door weren't there before …' Hagrid murmured, bewildered.
Dumbledore offered a knowing smile.
'Hogwarts has its mysteries, dear Hagrid. And the Headmaster's office… even more so.'
With that, he wished them a good night before retreating towards his private chambers.
Outside, dawn brushed the horizon, painting the sky in pastel hues. Dumbledore paused on his balcony, contemplating the first light of day. In his arms, Minnie nestled closer, her warm, silky fur soothing against his weary hands.
The hush of morning held a promise… one of an uncertain future, yet still full of hope.
Within the silent office, Sirius and Hagrid exchanged a look of quiet understanding.
'G'night, Sirius. Look after Harry,' Hagrid murmured, his gruff voice unusually gentle.
The half-giant turned and made his way towards his hut, his massive silhouette fading into the shadows.
Sirius looked down at Harry, sleeping soundly against him.
'Let's get you to bed, my little fawn,' he whispered, his voice laden with tenderness.
As he stepped through the doorway, his heart clenched. It should have been James carrying his son like this. It should have been Lily tucking Harry into bed with a loving touch.
He took a deep breath, pushing back the pain threatening to consume him. Harry needed him.
The room, bathed in dim light, exuded a serenity he envied. A grand four-poster bed stood in the centre, while a small cot patiently awaited its occupant. Heavy red curtains filtered the first rays of morning, promising a few more hours of restful sleep.
Sirius laid Harry gently on the mattress. The small body stretched in his sleep before settling again. A faint smile on his lips, Sirius waved his wand to draw the drapes closed.
But a strange sensation washed over him. Something important was slipping through his grasp. His gaze swept the room and landed on a basin of warm water set on a nearby table. His stomach dropped.
The healing balm.
Sirius carefully lifted Harry again, hoping not to wake him. But as soon as he touched him, the child's eyes fluttered open.
'Da? Da!'
A cold shiver ran down Sirius's spine. Harry's tiny arms flailed, reaching for something unseen, his gaze desperately searching the darkness.
'Da! Da!' he sobbed, his little voice breaking with distress.
Sirius felt his heart shatter. He gently stroked the boy's messy hair, trying to soothe him.
'Harry… We're just going to get you cleaned up, then you can go back to sleep. Daddy will come to see you later, alright?'
''Kay,' the child whispered with a shy smile, reaching out for his godfather.
Sirius swallowed hard, suppressing the lump in his throat, and held him close. He knew that promise was a lie, but he couldn't tell him the truth—Harry wouldn't understand.
Gently, he removed Harry's clothes and lowered him into the warm water. The child wriggled at once, splashing his godfather with playful delight. For the first time in days, Sirius laughed.
Once clean and dressed, Harry yawned and snuggled against him. Sirius placed him back in his cot, tucked the blankets around him, and watched his face relax into peaceful slumber.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on the child's forehead. The scar had faded… but not entirely. Barely visible, it was still there, a faint yet indelible trace.
Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, forcing back a tide of anger and grief. He knew the mark would never truly disappear. That it would become a symbol, a constant reminder of that cursed night.
He took a steadying breath and, with a flick of his wand, vanished the water stains from the floor. Then, with another fluid motion, he transfigured his clothes into a comfortable pair of pyjamas and slipped under the covers.
The weight of the night's events, exhaustion, and the turmoil of his thoughts finally overwhelmed him. His body surrendered to sleep, while his mind sought refuge in a world where James and Lily were still alive.
Hogwarts – Great Hall
01st November, 1981 morning
The great oak doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing the vast space where Hogwarts students gathered each morning. The room, bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun, hummed with murmured conversations and the clinking of cutlery.
The stone floor, worn smooth by centuries of young witches and wizards passing through, stretched beneath four long, solid wood tables. At the far end of the hall, the staff table stood upon a slightly raised dais, offering a commanding view of the students.
On either side of the main hall, two distinct spaces extended. One, bathed in light, opened onto tall windows that granted an uninterrupted view of the grounds. Large fireplaces crackled constantly, warming the atmosphere. The other, almost its mirror, led to a carefully maintained inner courtyard, where statues and intricately trimmed topiaries stood in silent watch.
At the centre, four imposing stone pillars supported the enchanted ceiling. Each bore a statue representing the emblematic animal of a Hogwarts house: Gryffindor's lion, Ravenclaw's eagle, Hufflepuff's badger, and Slytherin's serpent.
It was within this setting that students arrived in waves, their faces still marked by sleep or the excitement of a new day. None of them yet realised that this morning, the 1st of November 1981, would mark the beginning of a new era, shaped by a victory whose consequences they could not yet comprehend.
The stone walls echoed with the flickering light of torches and bronze lanterns, fuelled by an eternal magical flame. Tall stained-glass windows cast shimmering hues upon the floor, depicting significant moments from the wizarding world.
The enchanted ceiling, a perfect reflection of the sky outside, created the illusion of an open expanse, whether bright and clear or dark and stormy. Below, hundreds of candles floated, casting a soft glow. Legend had it that if Hogwarts were ever without a headmaster, they would extinguish until a rightful successor took their place.
On this bank holiday morning, the Great Hall buzzed with activity. Students and staff alike enjoyed a hearty breakfast, relishing the lack of lessons. The air was thick with comforting aromas: grilled sausages, smoked kippers, honeyed porridge, crisp toast with marmalade, and soft crumpets. Fantastically named cereals—Cheeri Owls and Pixie Puffs—sat alongside the traditional pumpkin juice.
Yet despite the relaxed atmosphere, some students noticed something amiss: an unusual seat stood between the headmaster and the deputy headmistress. Stranger still, a ginger cat was lapping milk from a bowl meant for humans. A ripple of curiosity spread through the ranks as eyes turned towards the staff table.
There, the professors displayed varied reactions—some joyful, others pensive, a few on the verge of tears. They had been summoned earlier by Dumbledore, who had revealed the events of the previous night. Three among them were particularly affected.
Minerva McGonagall, upright and formidable in her emerald-green robes, surveyed the hall with a piercing gaze from behind her square glasses. A true pillar of Hogwarts, she served as Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration Professor, and Head of Gryffindor House.
Beside her, Horace Slughorn, affable and rotund, twirled his velvet-like moustache, his eyes gleaming with intelligence. A lover of luxury and refinement, he led Slytherin House and taught Potions, a field in which he excelled.
Not far away, Filius Flitwick, small in stature but vast in wisdom, scrutinised the table gravely. His benevolent expression contrasted with the emotion written on his face. A master of Charms and Head of Ravenclaw, he had mentored Lily Potter, helping her refine a talent that had promised to revolutionise magic.
All three shared a deep connection with the Potter family. James, a brilliant student, had earned McGonagall's admiration. Lily, a prodigy in Charms, had been Slughorn's protégé and Flitwick's favourite pupil, whom he had accepted as an apprentice for a Charms Mastery.
A little further off, Severus Snape remained silent, cloaked in his habitual black robes. His closed-off expression concealed deep turmoil. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Lily's lifeless face. But he could not voice his grief or guilt, lest the truth send him to Azkaban. He reconsidered his recent decision to accept a position as Potions Master under Slughorn's tutelage, meant to prepare him for an eventual succession upon the older professor's retirement.
A hoot broke the silence. Shadows danced across the ceiling as a flurry of owls swept into the hall. A precise and majestic aerial ballet followed, and soon, The Daily Prophet landed before every student—even those without subscriptions.
Eyes locked onto the front page: THE TRIUMPH OF THE CENTURY: A BABY DEFEATS THE GREATEST DARK WIZARD OF ALL TIME!
Reactions erupted. Cheers of joy rang out while some students, particularly those from Death Eater families, froze, aware of the repercussions for their relatives. Though already informed, the professors couldn't help but discuss the article, casting cautious glances at the students, anticipating tensions—especially between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
Gradually, the commotion died down. A peculiar solemnity settled over the hall. Students' gazes shifted towards the entrance.
The professors exchanged puzzled glances—all except Albus, who had sensed Sirius Black's arrival without even looking up. He noted with amusement that Minnie had ceased lapping her milk, now staring fixedly at the doorway. The headmaster braced himself for what was about to unfold, inwardly cursing Rita Skeeter for disturbing his peace.
All eyes were on Sirius Black and the fragile bundle in his arms: Harry Potter.
