Chapter Text
The air outside was warm, a strange comforting breeze as students enjoyed the soft hues of shining sunlight, absorbing the mellow wisps of the air. It was not only comforting, but reassuring as though a promise that all would be well. The evening was calming and Harry felt alive, more free than he’d ever been before.
At the Dursleys, he would constantly feel trapped as though unable to drag air into his lungs, his entire body suffocating under the sheer force of the pressure around him. His cupboard, despite its small interior, was the place he felt safest and most secure. It was his own small space that he knew would allow him to remain unbothered by his relatives, albeit the times they came knocking to pull him out or charging to bellow at him. It was his space and he would be safe if I stayed hidden inside.
It was only Harry’s first day at Hogwarts and he felt absolutely exhausted after a day of lessons, yet his heart felt full for the wondrous and magical world he’d found himself in.
Long gone was the Harry Potter who used to hide away in his cupboard in hopes to avoid his uncle’s wrath- he would now have the chance at a fresh start, a new beginning and even when he did go back to his relatives it would be okay because he’d have something to look forward to in the upcoming weeks as summer drew to a close. It would be okay now.
He basked in the warmth of the sun, smiling as he remembered just how perfect the day had begun. He’d received a letter, an actual talking letter from his parents.
After so many years of longing and trying to work out what his parents may or may not have sounded like, he finally had actual proof.
His dad’s voice was smooth and warm- almost like the feeling in the summer when you put slightly melted chocolate in your mouth and allow it to simply melt into a velvety viscous puddle of heavenly goodness. It was the embodiment of the sun, casting light over whoever was blessed enough to soak in its rays.
His mum had a voice that sounded like the bells of a wind chime- delicate and graceful whenever the wind brushed past it. It was a voice that sounded like the much valued silver, soft and with an edge of something precious that Harry wanted to grasp onto and hold for as long as he possibly could. Her voice soothed him, reminding him of a time that felt like home- something special and something he yearned so desperately for that he felt the feeling would consume him from within.
They were his parents- his very own. Not Dudley’s, but his.
They were everything he imagined them to be and more. They weren’t cruel and cold like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon seemed to describe them as and they certainly loved him. Harry couldn’t believe he’d ever entertained the thought that his parents didn’t want him or he was just a bad child who had been abandoned by them. They never even wanted to leave him.
They loved him, they loved him, they loved him.
Harry sat on the long grass outside on the Hogwarts grounds accompanied by Ron. He’d become slightly frustrated by all the other students pointing at him and, in particular, his scar and decided to take Ron with him to get some quiet time where they could just relax and unwind after a busy first day of lessons. History of Magic had exhausted him beyond belief.
Despite the slight fatigue that was setting in, Harry found that he didn’t really mind it all that much. This morning had set the precedent for the entire week after he’d received the best letter of his entire existence, even more valuable to him than his Hogwarts acceptance letter. Having a letter from his parents was something he couldn’t imagine ever happening and to have been gifted it in such a beautiful way was all he could have ever asked for. Harry knew that he would never want for anything again.
Of course, it had him thinking. Just how many letters had they written? What did they class as his monumental moments in life and what could he do to make those moments come faster, sooner? He knew he was becoming greedy but he simply couldn’t help it. All his life he’d been desperate for even a morsel of information about his parents, but he didn’t even know his own surname until he was 4 years old and Aunt Petunia was forced to reveal it when signing his enrolment forms for primary school. In fact, he thought his name was just ‘boy’ until he was 3 years of age.
To finally be given a glimpse into who his parents were had changed the very axis of his world. They were no longer figments of his imagination or just words people had said, both good and bad, but they were very much real. Even if they no longer breathed the same air as him, they were still his parents, still real and once his.
“Do you reckon you’ll get another letter?” Ron spoke the words whilst eating a small handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, grimacing when he came across a particularly green one.
“Eurgh, soggy lettuce!”
Harry smiled at his friend’s antics and allowed himself to consider his question. Would he receive another letter? Just how many had James and Lily Potter written before their untimely demise? What if there were no more and he’d never be able to hear them again? And just who were Moony and Padfoot? Harry also wondered why those names had Fred and George grinning as though they knew something no one else did, drawing their heads together suspiciously and whispering frantically, conspiratorially.
“I’m not sure. I hope I’ll get another one but what could be monumental enough?” Harry sighed as he kicked away a stone through the grass. His forehead creased slightly as he became forlorn at the idea of not getting any more letters even though he felt he should be grateful he even received the one. He used his right hand to rub harshly at his neck and gently pull the back of his hair, something he’d done since being a much younger child to stop himself from crying. Usually, it worked rather effectively, but today it didn’t seem to be working.
“Maybe they’ll send one soon! You never know-“ but Ron didn’t get to complete his sentence. At that very moment, a large brown owl came swooping through the skies at speed, rushing past the wind and slowly descending its altitude as it allowed the breeze to ruffle its feathers.
It landed in front of Harry. It perched with pride, a familiar emblem on its chest.
It held another letter.
Harry wasn’t aware of just how much he was shaking as he almost threw himself forward to grab the letter, knocking over all the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans onto the grass- they scattered away, like the sound of marbles against gravel as they rolled far down the ground. Harry didn’t even notice that he almost tripped on his robes to scramble forward to grab the letter as though he couldn’t believe it was real, surely he was imagining because nothing monumental had happened as of yet. Or perhaps it had and he didn’t realise.
It didn’t matter. There was another letter and that was all he cared for. He distinctly noticed Ron sitting up to look over Harry’s shoulder.
Harry held the letter in his hand, but was surprised to find it was not just the red envelope he’d seen this morning but attached to it was a brown envelope of thick heavy parchment, stamped with the Gringotts Wizarding Bank coat of arms. The owl flew away immediately.
“Two? Why are there two?” Ron looked at the envelopes in confusion, his head cocked slightly to one side as he tried to decipher what the letters were.
“One is a howler, I can tell that much,” Harry whispered, reverently as he held the letter close in his hands. “I don’t know what the other one is.”
“Open the letter first! It’s got a proper stamp and everything!”
Harry nodded quickly as he haphazardly ripped open the brown envelope, his hands shaking as the parchment trembled in his hands. His face fell as he realised it was not from his parents.
Dear Mr Harry James Potter,
This missive is to offer our official apologies for our failure in delivering the letters in our possession to your own.
Firstly, Gringotts Wizarding Bank offers you their sincere condolences for the loss of your parents, both of whom were valued clients and vault holders of the bank.
Before the death of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Jane Potter (née Evans), they entrusted us with the possession of charmed letters with the instruction to have them sent to you at their predetermined times. These occasions are set within magic and cannot be expedited. They are held securely within Potter Vault number 687 which you will gain full access to once you become of age. Your supplementary trust vault is still available to you at all times.
Due to the inability to send these letters to you during your residence in the Muggle Neighbourhood of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, they have failed to reach you at the time they were preordained to. These will now reach you throughout your life on separate days until the ones that have expired are complete. We believe it prudent to mention that they will not reach you all at once due to the nature of the letters.
We anticipate your presence when you become of age to hear the official reading of the will of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Jane Potter (née Evans) unless you become emancipated before the 31st of July 1997.
May your gold forever flow and may your coffers be full. May your enemies flee in terror.
Yours sincerely,
Goblin Ragnok
Head Goblin of Gringotts Wizarding Bank
Fortius Quo Fidelius
“Blimey, Harry- this is mental!” Ron gawked at the letter, his eyes wide giving the illusion of two orbs of the ocean on his pale face.
“I know! It means they wrote more letters and-“
“No, it’s not that! The Goblins apologised, actually apologised. That doesn’t ever happen, Harry. It’s bloody insane!” Ron continued to exclaim all about how the Goblins never apologised even if they made a rare error- they were resolute and ran their own world with power. They were entrusted with the most critical task of looking after vaults and handling all the riches of the British Wizarding World. Ron continued to add that he absolutely had to write to his older brother, Bill, to tell him what had happened.
Harry only nodded back mutely, not really focusing on Ron’s words.
He had more letters, not one but an undisclosed amount all waiting to reach him all these years. He felt a slight building feeling of anger as he realised that he’d been deprived of these letters all these years simply because he lived with the Dursleys. It wasn’t fair on any account and to know that he spent years longing to know about his parents, desperate to know them and if they loved him and helpless to do anything about it whilst these letters sat collecting dust, unable to reach him, enraged him.
Ron must have noticed his conflicting feelings as he stopped talking and slowly moved to sit closer to Harry, offering a silent support that had Harry feeling even more grateful to have met Ron on that train ride to Hogwarts. They truly had bonded almost instantaneously and Harry couldn’t imagine tackling Hogwarts without Ron by his side- the red-haired boy had quickly become his closest comrade and Harry felt fortunate to have Ron by his side.
Harry smiled at Ron before he reached for the red envelope, the colour brighter than he remembered from this morning and strangely reminiscent of the Gryffindor house colours themselves. Harry had deduced that his parents had been sorted into Gryffindor (a fact he was even more happy to know because it helped him feel closer to them than ever) and these small reminders of them were like gold dust to him. They were delicate and could easily be carried by even the mildest of breezes, but they were just as valuable and precious to him. Their words were like poetry to his ears and he would grasp onto any memory of them no matter how fleeting.
James and Lily Potter had sat together and written these letters together. They’d planned the date it would arrive to him, what they would include and the date they’d write it. They’d thought of him before they even knew for sure that they would reach a premature death and in doing so had proven just how much they loved him.
He turned the red envelope around, displaying its cover.
Mr Harry James Potter
On the authority of Gringotts Wizarding Bank
Posthumous: JFP and LJP (2nd of August 1981)
Vault 687
To be delivered on the 31st of July 1982
Inhaling deeply, Harry opened the envelope. The letter sprung to life.
“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Harry! Happy birthday to you!”
The words were melodious- soothing, warming and euphonious. Harry felt as though he was being lifted by his arms up to the heavens, drifting through clouds as his parents’ voices washed over him, filling him with a joy so ingrained that he couldn’t even believe he could feel this way.
The suspicious stinging began in his eyes as he felt the tears begin to grow again. Ron inched closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders- Harry felt even more gratitude for such a friend to exist in his life. They were beginning to become more like brothers than just friends- both silently promising to support the other, uphold one another as brothers would do.
“Happy birthday, my darling boy! You’re two years old today and I just know you are absolute wonderful,” Harry closed his eyes, tightly as he listened to his mother’s voice. It was just as beautiful as the first time he’d heard it.
“Happy birthday, Harry! It’s been two wonderful years since we became your mummy and daddy. Two years!” James Potter’s voice rang out with such pride that it had Harry’s heart soaring and his chest expanding with the knowledge that he’d made his father proud just by being his son. The unconditional love of a parent truly knows no bounds.
“Our little boy is growing up so fast, isn’t he James? Of course, I know you’re a big boy now! Two years old is a very special day.”
“We hope you’ve been a very good boy for Padfoot! I also hope that Padfoot isn’t spoiling you too much and also helping you create as much mischief as possible. Is mischief too big of a word for a two year old?”
Harry heard a small laugh as his mother clapped her hands together.
“Our Harry will know all the big words- he’s a big boy now! Today is your special day, Harry! We can’t be there with you, but we’ll always be watching over you.”
“Prongslet, you are growing up so fast. We love you so very much and we hope you are having the best day ever. Oh and Padfoot- please make sure to teach our Harry to be the next best Marauder after us. The responsibility now lies in your hands and-“
Lily cut James off quickly before he went off on another tangent of Mission: Teach Harry to be the greatest prankster the world has ever seen.
“What your daddy means to say is that we are so very proud of you, our special boy. We love you so very much and will always be there for you even if we aren’t with you. We love you, Harry. We love you so very much.”
Lily’s voice had become thick with tears as she imagined a world where her son would grow and she would not see it. He would grow to become this wonderful, incredible little human but she would not be there to experience it. But Harry would still grow even without them there and that would have to be enough. They may die, but he would live and he would have the best life regardless. He would still thrive and making Sirius Godfather was the best decision they’d come to after seeing how much he loved their son as if he was his own. Remus would also be there to raise Harry and he’d been such a natural guardian to Harry that Lily knew her son would be safe. He would be happy and alive and loved.
She never accounted for a world where all of the ones who would love her son would cease to exist or be incapacitated beyond repair.
“Be a good boy, son. We love you so much. You’re the best son we could have ever asked for. We love you so so much.” James whispered those words, his voice fading with the letter as it tore itself into pieces.
All that was left was a written version of the letter that floated down onto the ground and a small package that appeared from the ruins of the red envelope. Ron reached forward and placed them on Harry’s lap whilst Harry was truly at a loss for words.
For years, he’d spent birthday after birthday with not even a commemoration or verbal acknowledgement of the day. He’d watched as Dudley received multiple presents every single year whilst Harry wasn’t even spared a second thought. His birthdays passed with no remembrance and eventually he too stopped hoping for the next one to be different.
When Hagrid had arrived to the Hut on the Rock with a cake just for Harry, it had been the first time someone had cared for his birthday. The first time someone had thought of the little boy behind the big name and cared for him.
Now he knew that his parents had cared too. They cared enough to write to him on his second birthday, unaware that the letter would never reach him on that date. Perhaps it was better this way- he wouldn’t have remembered when he was two and Aunt Petunia would have been awful about it. It would have been nice to have known someone had loved him once but now that he was older, he could remember them. Yes, it was later than it should have been, but now he knew that he was adored and cherished.
Harry felt the tears pricking his eyes as he tried to blink them away. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions from the wonder of entering a magical world to the grief and longing for something he couldn’t remember yet missed more than anything in the world.
Harry and Ron made their way back to the castle, the package and letter hidden away in Harry’s cloak. He was grateful that this letter had arrived to him with some more privacy than the first as he wanted this to be his special moment. Once they’d reached their dormitory, an hour to go before dinner, Harry had snuck away to his bed to open the package alone. Ron had understood his need for solitude and left him to open the package, letting Harry know that he’d wait for him before going to dinner.
Harry gently folded the letter and tucked it away in his trunk, alongside the first one he’d received. They were his most prized possessions and he would not allow them to come to any harm or damage. He knew he’d spend the entire night reading them both again and again until he’d committed the words to his memory, engraving them in his mind so that he’d never forget the warm, fuzzy feeling they gave him in his stomach and how free they made him feel. He would never feel alone again.
Gently removing the parchment from the package, Harry felt the tears he’d battled with to keep at bay finally fall.
Inside the package was a small wooden toy stag. A gift from his parents- the first one Harry could remember receiving from them. It fit safely in the clasp of his hand and he clutched it tight as though afraid it would disappear. His breathing became shallower as he struggled to calm his emotions, the grief for someone he wanted so desperately, yet could never have overwhelming him and obscuring his every sense of understanding.
His parents had wished him Happy Birthday when he was two years old. They’d chosen and wrapped this gift for him.
This was the day Harry knew for sure that he was wanted. They’d never wanted to leave him but were forced by circumstances beyond their control.
He was wanted, loved and cherished and that was all that mattered.