ᎠᎬᎪᎡ ᎻᎪᎡᎡY

April 11, 1980

Baby Boy,

I need to tell you how I told your father that you were going to be a boy! I have to say, I'm quite proud of myself.

We came home from the hospital on April 8, after James had nearly shouted down the nurse that he was fine to go home. I had been completely healed, every trace of bruising gone, and James had said it wasn't right to have a pregnant woman sleeping on an uncomfortable hospital bed.

I had glared at him until he shut up, assuring him that I had been sleeping perfectly fine.

James still had a thin bandage around his neck, covering up the thin red scar the gaping hole in his neck had been reduced to. He had to take two different potions each day to make sure that the wound didn't reopen, but other than that he was almost back to new. His health had improved even more when Sirius was allowed back through the doors of St. Mungos, so two days after he woke up he was about ready to attempt to apparate out of there. I'm pretty sure Sirius would have gladly helped him, which was why I had to keep a very close eye on those two idiots.

Alright, back to the gender reveal.

I've heard about those adorable reveals where there's a box full of blue or pink balloons or where the husband cuts a cake with the respective colors hidden inside, but to be honest that's not really my style. James and I don't do frilly, useless decorations. Really, the only thing that we both excelled at were pranks. Back in Hogwarts, before I became friends with the Marauders, the idea of pulling a prank against a teacher scared the living daylight out of me. During my seventh year, when James became less of a goofball and turned more caring and genuine, I allowed the Marauders to teach me their ways and essentially corrupt me. Maybe I wasn't as talented in the art of mischief as the rest of them, but I definitely held me own.

That's why, instead of throwing a huge decorative party, I dyed James bright blue while he was sleeping. And I don't just mean his hair. Every inch of his skin was the color of Dumbledore's eyes, which I was positive our old headmaster would notice and get a good laugh out of. The best part of the whole prank?

The ink coating his skin lasts for two weeks straight, and I had written 'IT'S A BOY!' In sparkly blue print across his forehead.

Let me tell you, James' reaction was absolutely, positively hilarious.

The day after I turned my husband blue, I made sure to set his alarm for ten minutes before the ministry opened, which meant that he would be almost late to work. Everything went perfectly  I was lying down on a couch in the sitting room, waiting for any sign that James was awake, when I heard the shrill beeping of his old muggle alarm clock. Immediately following that, I heard a shocked yelp and a steady stream of shouted curse words.

When James feels like he's going to be late to work, he doesn't check to see what he looks like in a mirror. I know, I know, it's a big shocker that the man who spends 30 minutes a day just try to tame his hair doesn't look at a mirror before he goes to work, but my husband is just strange like that. Instead, he takes a small mirror (usually one from one of my makeup compacts) and stuffs it in the pocket of his robes. He once told me that he doesn't look at it until he's alone in his office, and that's what I was counting on.

I had to fight to hold in laughter when I saw him racing down the stairs. I had made the ink have a time limit, so it was invisible to the James's eyes until he got to work. Everyone else, however, could see his blue skin in all of its glory at whatever time they wanted. James came running into the sitting room and pecked me on the cheek, his glasses nearly falling off of his nose as he did so. He only managed to huff out a hasty, "Bye Lily! Love you!" Before he was darting out the door and off to what was looking to be a very embarrassing day at the ministry.