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Harry clearly remembered being there when it happened. It had been a rough week in general what with attempting to figure out who was going to watch James, his promotion, and her six games out of a seven day week... but then it happened and suddenly none of that seemed important.

The weather was awful, and he'd been wary of her flying that day to start with. Ginny had insisted otherwise, assuring him with a passionate kiss that she would be just fine. She had been, but the drunk player on the other team had not.

He was a ruddy player to start, Harry had seen that specific team enough times to tell, but with his also being a pompous arse, the pouring rain wasn't any help. Blinder than a bat, the player rammed right into Ginny who took the most dangerous fall of her career.

Everyone watched in collected horror as the star chaser of the Hollyhead Harpies went down, her broom nowhere close to her body as it plummeted. Ginny Potter was dead before anyone could get down there, and not even Harry Potter himself --who was in the crowd alone-- could have saved her.

He'd cried for a few hours straight, morning the loss of his wife, until he realized what he was doing. James needed him, his only son was not going to be neglected in the way he had been. Harry knew what it was like to lose his parents, and while he had never wanted that for his family, at least a single parent was better than none at all.

Harry was forced to talk out his feelings very much opposed to what he'd wanted to do, for Hermione had nearly cast an Imperio to get him to tell her the truth. She was able to do as much as she could for him over the course of a few months, and soon Harry took care of James plenty fine by himself.

He'd quit his job as an Auror, it was the first thing he did after his beloved wife's death, and with his inheritance Harry took care of James, spoiling him. He formed a bond with the boy that was stronger than either could have possibly imagined. Harry adored James more than anything, and the feeling was obviously mutual as they watched him grow.

Hermione and Ron eventually gave him a wonderful niece and strapping nephew that James loved a lot. The family grew further, even as they mourned Ginny's death, and the pain became evanescent. Life had to go on, though there wasn't the spark any longer that the strong red-head had always brought.

When James turned six, four years had passed since his mother's death and he suddenly got curious of her. Harry answered him truthfully seeing little reason to lie to the boy, and while not completely comprehensive, James took in what he could and hugged his father after, nearly feeling the pain emanating off of the brilliant man.

Then again, if Harry was the worst person in the world he felt James would still think him brilliant. The forgiveness of a child was incompatible.

It was also that year that Harry was offered a job at Hogwarts.

While he hadn't been keen on teaching, his overly-excited son was downright ready to shun his father for life if he didn't accept. Being in a muggle primary school, James looked forward to going to Hogwarts one day to learn under Grandma Minnie (The title was under Minerva's insistence when Harry had started to have her over rather often, and the boy struggled to say her name). Molly hadn't been offended much, though she spent more time with her grandson than even Harry some days. Mrs. Weasley had no reason to complain.

The job was offered on one of those invites for tea, and Harry had looked at her as though she'd gone bonkers when it first surfaced. The position was still being filled yearly, and who was to say he'd last? The man tried to argue that he had no experience, but she'd raised an imperious eyebrow at him pursing her lips. McGonagall knew very well that Harry had successfully taught nearly fifty students for a whole year in his fifth.

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