son amour - j. potter

epilogue

Daphne Potter
September 1st, 1997

"Kids, let's go!" I yelled up the stairwell.

James appeared from the stairwell, his hair tousled. "Meg can't find her scarf and hat," James said.

I spotted them over by the door, "They're down here."

Megara, our oldest daughter, came rushing past James and down the stairs, carrying her trunk behind her.

I gestured towards the table in the foyer, where her hat and scarf were sitting.

"Thanks mum," Meg chimed as she stuffed the stray clothing into her trunk.

Despite it being Sunday, I was already going over ideas for new articles that I have for this upcoming week. Ever since I got promoted at the Daily Prophet, and became Rita Skeeter's boss, I've been busy.

"Dad, I can't find my broom!" Marcus yelled from his room.

James stared at me with pleading eyes.

"It's by the back door," I yelled.

Marcus, our youngest son and third born, slid down the stair railing, landing softly on the floor.

He ran through the house, returning a few moments later with his Cleansweep 11.

"We're going to be late," Megara muttered as she looked down at her watch.

Looking at my daughter, she is a carbon copy of me when I was 15. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, the older that she gets, the more she looks like me.

Marcus, on the other hand, looks like a mix of James and I, with his hazel eyes and blonde hair.

"We're gonna be late, pick up the pace!" Meg yelled.

Julian appeared in the hallway, levitating his trunk, broom, and his owl's cage down the stairs.

"Shut up, Meg," Julian muttered, "We've never once been late. It's my last year at Hogwarts, I want to have a peaceful morning."

"Don't be a prick-"

I shot a glance at Megara, "Language, some of the people in this house are still young."

"Dad!"

James disappeared down the hallway of our home, that used to be his parents home. Our townhouse was too small for our growing family, so we decided to move into James's childhood home.

Reappearing back at the top of the stairs, James was carrying our youngest daughters trunk, while she skipped behind him on the stairs.

"Thanks dad," Juliet chimed as James set her trunk down in the foyer.

Juliet, our youngest and final child, is the spitting image of James. She's the female version of James, complete with messy black hair and bright hazel eyes. She looks nothing like me, except for maybe her nose.

"Okay, headcount," James said. "One, two, three, four."

He gave me a thumbs up, "They're all here."

"Pet count?" I asked.

"One, two, three-," James furrowed his brows, "Someone is missing a pet."

Meg's face lit up in realization.

She bolted up the staircase and returned moments later with her Birman cat.

"Got him!"

I smiled, "Okay, now everyone into the car before we lose a kid or a pet."