Chapter 2: Happy Days and Secret Decisions
The following weeks were filled with joy. Godric's Hollow basked in the golden glow of late summer, the sunlight filtering through leafy trees and casting honeyed patterns on the cobblestone path leading to the Potters' modest cottage. The air buzzed with dragonflies and the occasional hum of magical wards gently pulsing in rhythm with the house's protective charms.
Inside, laughter echoed from room to room, winding through sunlit corridors and across weathered wooden floors. The walls bore hand-drawn sketches by James, a few magical photographs of friends smiling and waving, and framed spell diagrams with scribbles from Lily's hand. The scent of roasted bread, melted butter, and cinnamon often drifted from the kitchen, mixing with the floral tang of freshly cut lavender tucked near the windows.
Each morning began with soft giggles and gentle cries from the nursery. Lily would lift Harry and Hardwin from their cribs, pressing her lips to their soft, warm foreheads. She carried them downstairs while humming lullabies—gentle Hindi folk tunes her mother once sang to her, woven with a charm that caused the air to shimmer faintly.
James spent hours sprawled on the lawn under a large oak tree, the bark worn smooth from years of magical duels and broom practice. He laid out a thick tartan blanket, hovering wooden toys in the air with lazy flicks of his wand. He conjured bubbles that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow, floating gently before bursting with a soft tinkle like bells.
Harry clapped and squealed every time a bubble burst near his nose. Hardwin watched more quietly, his deep eyes tracking each movement. Occasionally, a bubble would linger near him—hanging still, refusing to pop until he blinked or tilted his head. Once, one drifted close and shimmered with sparks before vanishing. Lily swore she hadn't cast anything. She looked down at Hardwin and whispered, "You did that, didn't you?"
In the afternoons, the house was filled with sounds of pages turning and spoons clinking against tiny porridge bowls. James made funny voices for magical picture books, and the children squealed as the illustrations came alive. Harry especially loved the dragon stories, while Hardwin seemed oddly drawn to tales of ancient spells and riddles, staring quietly at the floating text.
In the kitchen, Lily danced with both boys on her hips. The enchanted wireless played mellow harp tunes or the occasional Celestina Warbeck ballad. The air would swirl with scents—stew bubbling with pumpkin and sage, butterbeer-basted chicken, or the sharp tang of ginger and cloves from her special tea.
One rainy afternoon, James enchanted a wooden duck to walk across the nursery floor. Harry chased it on all fours, giggling wildly. Hardwin didn't crawl after it. Instead, he watched it approach, and with a blink, the duck turned on its own, returning to him. James and Lily both froze.
"He didn't wave his hand," James muttered.
"No... just looked," Lily whispered, her voice half-wonder, half-concern.
---
One weekend, a bright explosion of noise and color filled the cottage. James's best friends arrived—
Sirius Black, grinning like mischief incarnate, strode in first, his black boots thudding confidently against the floor. His wild black hair blew with the breeze as he flung open the door.
Remus Lupin followed, calm as ever, his worn sweater smelling faintly of books and sandalwood. A faint scar peeked from his collar, but his soft eyes held warmth.
Peter Pettigrew scuttled in last, shoulders hunched, offering sweets from a tin with shaking fingers. His watery eyes darted around the room.
Sirius dropped onto the couch with a theatrical groan. "Oi, Prongs! Still alive with twins in the house?"
James snorted. "Barely. I think my hairline's receding."
Sirius immediately scooped up Harry and tossed him in the air with a whoop. "You're gonna be a Quidditch star, little lion!"
Harry shrieked in glee, gripping Sirius's robes.
Hardwin, in Lily's arms, stared.
He knew that face. The eyes, the leather jacket. It was Sirius Black.
Then he saw them together—Sirius, James, Remus, and even Peter.
> The Marauders.
The word came unbidden, echoing in his heart. He had read of them. Dreamed of them. But to see them now, living, laughing...
Hardwin's breath caught. He looked at James, his father. At Sirius, his soon-to-be godfather. At Remus, quiet and noble. Even Peter, before betrayal had marred him.
> They don't know what happens yet. They don't know the betrayals. The loss. The war.
Emotion welled up inside him. The scent of oakwood from the fireplace. The feel of Lily's heartbeat through her robes. The sound of Marauder laughter filling the home like music. He blinked slowly, memorizing every second.
> This is what they were like, before everything broke.
---
That night, the living room glowed with candlelight and magic. The wireless played a soft jazz tune while butterbeer fizzed in tall glasses and pumpkin pasties floated on enchanted trays.
The fire crackled, throwing shadows on the walls. Sirius and James dueled with enchanted spoons, and Peter laughed too loudly at every joke. Remus quietly bounced Harry on his knee, murmuring a nursery rhyme in Latin.
Hardwin sat in Lily's lap, watching it all.
> They think they have time.
He reached toward Remus, his tiny fingers brushing the man's hand. Remus paused, startled.
"He has a grip like a seeker," he chuckled.
Later, James rose and raised his glass.
"Sirius, you old mutt, I want you to be Harry's godfather."
The room stilled.
Sirius blinked. "You… you serious?"
"Always," James smirked.
"I knew you'd say that," Sirius laughed, voice cracking with emotion. He stood and lifted Harry aloft. "To my godson! Your first broomstick is on me, kid!"
Cheers echoed. Butterbeer spilled. Laughter shook the rafters.
Later, when the fire had dimmed, Lily sat with Hardwin on her lap. She combed her fingers through his soft, dark curls and looked at James.
"And I've decided who Hardwin's godfather should be."
James tilted his head. "Who?"
"Severus."
The room fell still again.
Remus's brows twitched. Peter coughed. Sirius's face turned stormy.
"Snivellus?" he snapped.
Lily nodded. "He's changed. And he protected me, even when we weren't friends. Hardwin is... not like Harry. His magic is deep. Quiet. Severus understands that."
James looked uncertain, but nodded slowly. "If you trust him, Lily... I won't stand in the way."
Sirius scowled but said nothing. Remus looked thoughtful. Peter was already nodding, trying to please everyone.
Hardwin reached up and touched Lily's cheek.
Her eyes softened. "He agrees."
---
That night, the cottage breathed in silence. Crickets sang outside. A breeze carried the scent of damp earth and lilac.
The twins lay sleeping, their cribs glowing faintly from the soft warding spells Lily had cast. James and Lily watched them from the doorway.
"They're perfect," James whispered.
Lily leaned into him. "They are our future."
Hardwin stirred in his sleep.
And far away, under a sky filled with swirling stars and clouds, something stirred.
A dark force felt the subtle ripples in fate.
The story had changed.
Forever.