The Difference Forty Years Can Make

The evening of Harry's first birthday, Lily sat up in his bedroom. Her son held soothingly in her arms.

They had had a quiet birthday: only James, herself, and their sweet neighbour Bathilda Bagshot had been in the house. Bathilda had talked on and on about a book she was writing, detailing the past forty years of Godric Hollow's history. She'd talked endlessly about what a massive change the little town had undergone in a mere forty years.

They'd had tea and done presents that had been delivered by friends over the past days, including one passed to them by a teary-eyed Dorcas Meadowes that she said to be from Marlene. A dark red fake leather jacket, charmed to fit any child wearing it. Modelled exactly after the one she'd always worn.

Just the thought of Marlene Mckinnon made Lily want to cry for the umpteenth time since she'd heard the news.

It felt surreal, knowing that the witch who'd become one of her best friends during the war was gone . It was difficult to process when not much had changed; they hadn't seen Alice and Frank for longer than they hadn't seen Marlene, and even people like Sirius and Remus weren't here quite as often anymore. All caught up in their own missions, their own means to put an end to the war.

Stuck inside as they were, Lily felt useless too about her friend's murder.

In her lap, Harry made a sleepy noise and she rocked him gently, holding him close against her chest as though just giving him enough of her love would make all the rest of the world feel less fucked up.

Her husband entered the room then, a tired and happy smile on his lips when he saw Lily and Harry sitting in the plushy armchair. "He's asleep?" James whispered, and he smiled even wider when she shook her head.

James sat down on the arm of her chair and Lily leaned in to rest her head against his body in a familiar and comfortable position. He kissed the top of her head, she took hold of his forearm, and with only distant conversations on the street below them in the background they sat in silence for a few moments.

Harry fell asleep eventually and James took him from her, gentle as he always was with their son. Lily watches, finding peace in watching her husband be a father like he were never meant to be anything else;

James took out his wand and whispered a few words, then took back his seat by Lily's side and wrapped his arm around her gently. "You're beautiful," he told her, and when he began stroking her hair she closed her eyes for a moment.

They sat like that, quiet and content despite the war raging outside their cottage in Godric's Hollow, watching as their precious baby boy slept soundly.

"You know what Bathilda said, the difference forty years can make?" Lily asked, quiet despite the child-proof silencing charm James had cast over Harry's bed. James' hand stilled in her hair, just for a moment, and when he hummed in question, Lily continued. "I keep thinking what it'll do for us. For Harry."

"In forty years?" James repeated, a grin appearing on his tired face. He always looked tired these days, even if he tried to hide it from her most of the time. "You mean when our son will be the greatest chaser the world's ever seen?"

Lily chuckled quietly at that, finding it far more comforting to lean into that train of thought than what her own mind was providing her with. "Yes, yes that exactly," she confirmed. "There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name; they'll look up to him. They'll have posters of him, the whole deal."

"And of me , of course," James interrupted, earning him a playful shove from his wife. " What? He's gotta learn it from someone! His dad, world-renowned chaser for the Ballycastle Bats. Of course his old man's gonna teach him the ins and outs of the sport, who else?"

The name Marlene was on the tip of her tongue before Lily swallowed it, letting it choke in the back of her throat instead. James noticed, he always did, and he realised just as quickly what she was about to say. His face fell before he tried a then watery grin. "I mean— I guess Marls taught me half of it anyway... She never let me forget that. So I'll just be passing on her skills, eh?"

"Of course," Lily agreed, forcing a smile."A renowned quidditch star; she'll be so proud of him."

"We'll have free tickets to every match," James added, "us, and his family of course. Godric, he'll be forty-one ! He'll have a wife- a spouse, kids, even!"

It was strange how war made it easier to switch conversation topics around like that. The grief-stricken face that her husband had worn just moments before was gone like that, replaced by genuine excitement for the future. For their son's future.

"How many kids will he have?" Lily asked, eager to let James come up with more ideas. The future felt so fragile these days, and every morning felt more uncertain and more hopeless than the last one; it felt good to spend one night pretending the days ahead held nothing but a bright and joy-filled future for their boy.

James' eyes lit up and he actually got up from their chair, pacing around the room to the point where Lily almost feared he'd wake up Harry despite the silencing charms. "Three kids. One of them's lucky enough to look just like you, Lilyflower," he told her, kissing her nose with a grin.

"His wife's badass; curses in front of the kids without thinking about it. Maybe she'll play quidditch too! They'll be one of those families!" Lily scrunched her nose at that, making James laugh warmly. "Or not," he added, his affectionate grin not lessening a bit. "She may be like you and only watch quidditch when it's our son playing."

Lily sighed, wistful for a future she didn't want to admit tonight was so unsure. "Maybe he'll have siblings," she voiced, effectively causing James' eyes to light up.

"No maybe ," he insisted, taking her hands in his own as he pulled her up from her chair. Lily laughed, shaking her head. Who was she kidding? There was no maybe needed in that statement. "He'll have siblings. And he'll be the best big brother in the world."

James turned to look at Harry and even when he was facing away from her, it was easy to picture the pride radiating from his expression as he looked down at his son. When he looked back at Lily, there were tears in his eyes. "When the war's over. Siblings, and quidditch, and he'll learn all about potions and we're going to teach him to become an animagus, too! He'll be a stag like me, I just know it."

Lily squeezed her husband's hand, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek sweetly. "As soon as the war's over," she promised, smiling comfortingly at James despite the uncertainty in her own voice. "Harry will be such a lovely brother; and the world will know his name. Our boy's going to take it by storm."

oOo

Forty years into the future sees Harry James Potter, married to a world-renowned quidditch star with three great kids, one of which does look exactly like a young Lily Evans once did. He doesn't play quidditch anymore, much preferring his teacher's position as professor Defence Against the Dark Arts, but at Hogwarts he's forever remembered as the youngest seeker in over a century.

He has no way of remembering his parents' conversation from all those years ago; James never taught him how to play quidditch and Lily never passed her talent for potions onto him and he'll never know how much Marlene Mckinnon and Dorcas Meadowes would have doted on him if they'd gotten the chance.

Harry doesn't know what his parents would've wanted for him; can't know what their plans were or what they would've done if they'd gotten the chance to raise him.

A lightning bolt scar on his forehead is the only reminder left of the immense love and dreams his parents held for him, and they were right: there's no child in this world who doesn't know his name.