Work Text:
Ripples.
A butterfly flaps its wings in America and causes a storm in England.
Let’s say rain always helped Sirius sleep.
Let’s say he took a nap on halloween, because of that storm, and was late to go see James and Lily.
Snape mourned, on Harry’s bedroom floor, holding Lily’s body.
Harry cried.
Maybe Snape would have noticed, sometime, if Sirius hadn’t arrived.
Maybe he would have still left, known his cover would be blown.
Lily and James knew they were playing with fire. You can’t tell me they didn’t. You can’t tell me they weren’t prepared. On the table, downstairs. Snape found it when he was leaving.
Custody of Harry if we die
- Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
- Peter Pettigrew & Mary MacDonald
- Alice & Frank Longbottom
- Marleen Mckinnon & Dorcas Meadowes
- Minerva McGonagall - last resort, school not great for little kids
Snape picked up the paper.
Heard Harry screaming.
Saw a photo of Lily, holding Harry and making faces at him.
Photo-Harry laughed.
Frank and Alice Longbottom would have jinxed Snape on sight. The Death Eater, blood purist, git-who-kept-making-Lily-cry-in-fifth-year.
In this world too, Harry was left with a note on a doorstep. The Longbottom’s house was warded, but Bellatrix knew how to find it, and Snape knew how to ask.
Alice opened the door to get the milk, and in this world too, Harry was woken with a blood curling scream.
But this is the difference. Alice picked up the child, read the custody list Snape had left, the tear marks Snape had added along the bottom.
Alice read the prophet with shaking hands, and slowly crossed names off the list.
Custody of Harry if we die
Sirius Black &Remus Lupin
Peter Pettigrew & Mary MacDonald
- Alice & Frank Longbottom
Marleen Mckinnon & Dorcas Meadowes
- Minerva McGonagall - last resort, school not great for little kids
Frank fed two boys, and tried to remember how to track down Lupin.
Twenty two hours after Alice had found Harry, Remus looked them in the eyes, and said he could not raise a child.
Alice and Frank exchanged a glance.
“Well, we do have a spare room.” Alice pointed out.
“We’ve done fine with Neville, so far.” Frank agreed.
One hundred and thirteen hours later, Alice and Frank pressed their two boys into Augusta’s hands, with instructions to keep them safe.
One hundred and fifteen hours later, Alice and Frank should have been home.
One hundred and thirty five hours later, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange, along with Barty Crouch Jr, brought Alice and Frank, screaming, minds broken, to Augusta, and said Neville would be next unless she told them everything she knew.
One hundred and thirty six hours later, Amelia Bones cleared Augusta of four charges of an unforgivable used to kill, on account of self defense.
She might have failed her Charms OWL, but she got an O on her Defense NEWT.
One hundred and fifty nine hours later, Augusta went over the page. Passed from Lily, to Severus, to Alice, to her.
Custody of Harry if we die
Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Peter Pettigrew & Mary MacDonald
- Alice & Frank Longbottom
Marleen Mckinnon & Dorcas Meadowes
- Minerva McGonagall - last resort, school not great for little kids
Augusta didn’t like children. But her only son’s last words to her were “Protect them both, mom.” Both, not just Neville. It was Frank's last wish. And Augusta would honor that.
Minerva was working at a school. Lily and James had written it down. That was no place for a child. He needed some people his age. She looked at him, stacking blocks beside Neville.
One hundred and eighty two hours later, Augusta adopted Harry, casually explaining to people that his parents were distant cousins, killed in the war. Of course she had taken him in. Wouldn’t any mother have done the same? Augusta carefully avoided any mention of precisely which cousins were Harry’s parents. Harry was a common name, after all.
Everyone knew Dumbledore would have given Harry to a strong family, to protect him. No one looked twice at the little old lady, with two floating cradles following her as she shopped.
At the two boys climbing at a playground, who looked so different.
At the boy who could have been the splitting image of James Potter.
Except Harry discovered hair dye when he was eight, far to young for anyone to look at him and see James. Augusta refused anything permanent for years, while Harry dragged her to get a new color every month.
A new style, too. No one ever looked at the two heads, blue and brown, bright mohawk and carefully combed, bent towards each other, whispering. No one ever told Harry he looked like James.