note ( again ): i changed some of the ages. harry is born 11 years later than the canonical birthdate ( 1980 ). therefore, james, lily, and mahira were born in 1971, rather than 1960, and charles was born in 1970.

"oh, when the fire burned out and the embers all died,
we still had all our stories, like stars in the skies."
⸻twinkling lights, annalise emerick

CHARLES POTTER was a family man.

He was a man who loved his daughter and would spend countless nights lulling her to sleep so his wife could get some rest. He was a man who would wake up early to cook breakfast so his Ira could give a bath to their daughter and play with her, teach her things about her background⸻ things he could never teach their little bundle of sunshine.

On the eve of 10th August 1990, Salena Lily Mihira Potter was brought into the world. She was a peculiar child because as most children would, she didn't cry at birth. Initially, they considered her a stillborn child, even thought Mahira was dead for a few seconds⸻but she'd only passed out. 3 minutes later, the girl started wailing, and Mahira was opening her eyes,⸻and it was then that Charles was sure: his girls wouldn't ever give up.

Salena was there when Mahira announced Charles her husband⸻ another small ceremony with only the closest of her family, ⸻the seat reserved for her grandparents was empty⸻ and the only friends who cared about them.

It was a lovely night, with Lily announcing that she was 3 months along, and her parents and brother not killing her husband.

James, Remus, Sirius⸻they all teased the couple and fawned over the child. With the war at its peak, it meant that it was supposed to settle down soon. Every adult in the world knew that peace would reign over chaos as quickly as bad had taken over good, it would be overnight.

But this was not the kind of overnight they'd expected.

Charles loved his brother to death⸻he'd be willing to go to any lengths to make sure James, Lily⸻whom he loved like a sister⸻and the little, ball-of-trouble Harry, were all safe.

The night of Halloween, 1992, was a calm night. James and Lily had tucked their son in early and were snuggled on the couch, ready to go to bed themselves. They lived in a neighbourhood so friendly and scarce of trouble, that they never knew the difference between a normal calm night and the calm that loomed over their heads like a cloud before a storm.

Charles had been called by Dumbledore, saying there was some trouble at James's and Lily's. He never specified what the trouble was, and Charles didn't ask. Later, he did ponder over why Dumbledore didn't tell him that his brother and sister-in-law were dead. Perhaps Dumbledore was embarrassed that the protection he assured him didn't keep trouble at bay, maybe Dumbledore was scared that the boy who was always cheerful, his reaction would be the most gut-wrenching because the ones who were always mellow and placid were the ones who broke down the hardest.

The silence in his brother's safehouse spoke the loudest words. He held his breath as he walked through the eerie hush. The dead bodies of James and Lily Potter, James's in the living room, in front of the stairs, as if he'd died shielding his family from the creature who was the source of the sorrow for hundreds of thousands of people, he and his wife were some of them. As he walked up the stairs after gently moving his brother away from the stairs and onto the couch, he saw the red-haired beauty James Potter often lost sleep talking about. He could remember the night James admitted that she said yes to a date with him, about how happy he was. He could still remember the time when Lily had been dueling with him for practice for a test the next day⸻Mahira was coaching her⸻and had beaten him. He remembered her thanking him on his wedding day for helping her gain her confidence. He remembered being there for her passively after Petunia never showed up to her wedding.

He picked her body away from the door and placed her on the bed in her and James's room, which was adjacent to the nursery where little baby Harry lay.

They were so. . .young. Barely in their twenties, all they ever wanted was a family. And they gave that up, they gave the best years of their lives up just so they could make the world a better place, a safer place.

Little baby Harry. As he looked into the crib, he saw the boy sucking a thumb in his mouth, kicking the air with his tiny, socked feet. Tear stains marked his cheeks, probably because he was crying for his parents, probably because of the pain he must've felt when the spell split his delicate skin into the shape of a lightning bolt. Whatever it might've been, the dead weight in Charles's chest got heavier, ready to burst. All he wanted was to cry, be home, and wake up in his wife's arms and wanted her to tell him it was just a nightmare.

Just a nightmare, was how he made himself calm down. Maybe it was all a nightmare, maybe he could wake up and call James and Lily, tell them about his dream, have them laugh at how stupid he was⸻how they couldn't, no, wouldn't, die so quickly. Maybe little baby Harry wouldn't be an orphan. Maybe this was all a bad dream⸻the prophecy, the curse, the death, all of it.

Harry's face lit up as he saw his uncle. He grinned, the rabbit teeth that were finally growing were making an appearance. Innocent eyes watched him, and then he knew, he wouldn't break down now, nightmare or not.

"Cha!" he lightly slapped Charles's face, then poked at his freckled nose. "Mama?"

"Yeah." he nodded. "Yeah, your mum and dad are, uh, asleep."

Charles reached out to lightly trace Harry's scar, then pull his beanie down, but Harry held onto the man's thumb, then tried to bite on it. The older one of the Potters chuckled at how adorable he was, how pure he was.

He was only a child. He didn't deserve this.

Charles found the teething ring that was shaped in the form of a wand⸻courtesy of Sirius Black⸻ and gave it to the boy, gently pulling his hand back. Harry, busy with his favourite toy, save for the broomstick that lay somewhere in their home, shifted his attention from his uncle.

Charles sighed, placed his head on the crib, and let out a deep breath. Only a nightmare.

All he wanted was to pull Harry to his chest and fall asleep with the kid, but he dragged himself up, then opened the tiny wardrobe with little doodles on, some spells, and others, things that represented their family: James's glasses, the Sorting Hat, Hogwarts House crests. He rummaged through and packed every single piece of clothing he could find that belonged to the boy. Then, he stuffed in all the toys he knew Harry would ask for, later. Lastly, he packed the pictures of their little family⸻he knew that if this wasn't a nightmare, he would be the one to raise the boy, not Petunia, not an orphanage.

Lastly, he wrapped the boy up in the blanket that was hugging his torso, the blanket that Lily had made for her son.

"Where?"

"We are going to go see a very old man." he picked the boy up, then strapped the bag on his back. "Then, we're going to see Auntie Mahi and Sal."

"Sal!" the baby clapped his hands, then yawned almost immediately. Charles sighed through his nose, giving the faintest hint of a smile.

Only a nightmare.

★

CHARLES HAD never looked up to Dumbledore.

Sure, the old man was a powerful wizard, but he made dumb decisions. For instance, making a squad of kids to fight Voldemort. Or rewarding kids for breaking rules.

Or explaining why Harry needed to be left at the Dursleys.

The men were in the living room of Charles and Mahira's quaint house, while the children were in the nursery, where Mahi had managed to arrange for another crib. Speaking of Mahira, she lingered next to Charles⸻who was frankly a little scared by the behavior of her fuming husband.

There had been very, and by very she meant scarce, occurrences when Charles had gotten this mad. It was understandable⸻he just lost his brother and sister, and now, he was being told that he wouldn't even be allowed to look after his nephew, nor visit him 'til he was at Hogwarts.

She couldn't understand Dumbledore, and neither could she stand him.

Dumbledore told Charles about the Dursleys, the in-laws of Lily Potter. They were a well-settled family and would be able to put a roof over the boy's head and give him food. And in Dumbledore's mind, that perfectly justified abandoning the child, when there was another perfectly rational option that they could opt for.

"They're Lily's blood." Dumbledore finally spat out, and McGonagall, who had been standing next to the couple, as if unofficially declaring that she was on their side, gave him a hard stare.

Charles didn't take offense at being adopted⸻he never understood what was so embarrassing about it. If anything, he was happy that out of all the kids that his parents could've welcomed home, they chose him.

"The only reason the boy survived was because of Lily's love for him. She was his mother, she would have done anything to save him." Dumbledore ignored the looks he received from the women, staring at the man who remained passive. "Charles, sending him there might be the only way of protecting the child."

"Just like keeping them isolated was the only way of keeping them safe?" the said man frowned, only looking at the green carpet covering their floor.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Charles." Dumbledore tried his best to justify his actions. "Including me."

"Mistakes don't kill people, Albus."

"Mr. Potter⸻"

"If it's a matter of protection, you know Harry would be safer here," Mahi interjected. "My family has helped you hide in worse situations from angrier wizards and witches."

"If Voldemort returns⸻"

"We all know the prophecy, Albus." McGonagall seemed to have become tired of this conversation because she knew that Charles would rather die than leave a child with a family so horrible. "We all know that if. . . if You-Know-Who returns, there is a chance the boy will die, where he stays will not matter. Mrs. Potter is right, Harry would be safer here. He would be happier here."

"Minerva. . ."

"Please just," Charles's voice cracked, his head in his hands, fingers tugging at his hair. "Please leave. You and I, we both know Harry's gonna stay here. I've had a long night, I want you all to leave."

★

MAHI FELT HER heart hurt at seeing her husband so vulnerable. She knew he was human, and that his grieving was normal. But Charles and Salena, were the ones who had given her hope when times were hard, and now that Voldemort was finally dead⸻well, not actually dead just. . . vanished⸻he was mourning the loss of his brother, while the world rejoiced.

Pisho was at her heels, now a lot larger than the kitten she was a few years ago. They'd adopted a dog, Calvert, and an owl, Eashan. Calvert was the laziest of the three, Pisho the bossiest, and Eashan was just. . . there.

Wand waving around in the air, she muttered weird incantations, shielding her house from the magical world. She was grateful they lived towards the end of their neighbourhood, where most of their neighbours were kind, old couples, who went to bed as early as 7, or abandoned houses lined up against each other.

Not safe enough? She was going to prove the old hag wrong.

Meanwhile, as Mahira secured their house, Salena woke up, soft whimpers resonating through the hallway, ready to turn into loud wails. Charles hurried into the nursery, took his baby into his arms, and lulled her back to sleep, humming the tune of some 80's song she grew up listening to.

Salena was his safe haven. He, his wife and his daughter, and now Harry, were the only people he needed to keep him grounded.

Though he always called both Salena and Mahira his favourite girls, he and Mahi both knew that Salena was the one who had him wrapped around her tiny finger. Mahi might hold his heart, but Salena was the one who had the power to crush it.

Salena loved her dad. She was only 2, but she understood that her dad was the happy one, and her mom was the worrier. So when she saw her dada so tired, so sad, she couldn't help but want to wipe those tiny tears off.

She wasn't sleepy anymore, obviously. She reached up for her dad's cheek, tiny fingers prodding at the wetness.

"Dada, sad?"

He chuckled. "Yes, lovely, Dad's sad." He rocked her back and forth.

She didn't like Dad being sad. Her dad was the goofy clown, the one who made her giggle when mommy had to give her medicine or made her eat veggies. Now, she wanted to be the one to make him happy, but her dad's raspy voice and the back-and-forth rocking made her sleepy.

Before she fell asleep, however, there sounded a deep rumble of thunder, and then the wind howled as if mourning the loss with the Potters. The rain started coming down in a hushed whisper as if lulling Salena to sleep, and as soon as she was off in her little dreamland, it poured buckets, the weather as angry as he felt.

He was scared, initially, but then thought that if there was a God, He was sympathizing with the man. The silence that had scared him, made him wish that this night was a nightmare, turned into growling thunder, evaporating his hopes of this night being a nightmare.

And as the world celebrated 'The Boy Who Lived', Mahira and her family mourned the loss of those who died too soon. 

two chapters in one day!! I'm on a roll