5Disclaimers/warnings in Chapter 1
Daedalus Diggle was out sightseeing in Muggle London when he first spotted the boy. Messy black hair just like James Potter's, emerald green eyes behind round glasses, and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead - it was the Boy-Who-Lived! The seven-year-old was standing alone outside a sweet shop, watching the crowds pass by.
"Why, Harry Potter as I live and breathe!" Diggle said as he approached the boy, who turned at the mention of his name, "Such a pleasure to meet you, lad! An honor, even!"
Green eyes scrunched up in confusion. "I- I'm sorry, sir, have we met?"
Daedalus laughed. "Not since you were a babe in your mother's arms. I was part of... well, let's call it a bird-watching club with your parents for a couple of years. I remember James grinning like a loon the first time they brought you to one of our meetings, and sweet Lily barely able to take her eyes off you." He smiled wistfully at the memory of his lost comrades.
"You knew my parents?" The question was so quiet, so hesitant, that he nearly didn't hear it.
"Indeed I did. James Potter was a good man, talented too, and he and his friends always brought us a bit of laughter even in the darkest of times. Lily was fierce and fiery and full of love and life, the most brilliant wi- er, woman of her generation. They were both so very in love with each other, and so very, very brave..."
Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you must have confused me with someone else. I mean, my name is Harry Potter, but my parents were worthless layabouts living off the dole like parasites on good hardworking people until they died in a drunken car crash my father caused." The last part of his statement was recited fluidly, as if by rote.
Daedalus was aghast. "Is that what you've been told?" he asked angrily, receiving a frightened nod in return. "That's a filthy lie! James and Lily Potter were your parents, without a doubt - you've got James's face and hair with Lily's eyes, and more than that I know for a fact that their son got a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead the night they died. You are their son, and they were certainly not drunken wastrels! James and Lily were two of the kindest, most loving, most courageous people it has ever been my pleasure to know, and they loved you with all their hearts."
A look of wonder and hope had grown on the child's face, only to fall away as he slumped. "And they're dead," he said defeatedly.
Diggle knelt beside the boy, reaching out to gently pat his shoulder. Harry stiffened at the touch, probably not used to such contact from a stranger. "Don't you worry about that, lad," he said softly, reassuringly, "I'm sure wherever they are, they're still loving you and proud of you, and you'll meet them again some day. A very wise man, one of the wisest I know, told me once that to the well organized mind, death is nothing but the next great adventure. Knowing them, James was probably ready to charge straight in with a grin on his face before Lily shook her head, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and kept his feet on the ground."
His words of reassurance and comfort must have reached the lad, as his young face was set in a beatific smile as tears began to well in his eyes. He seemed somehow indescribably lighter, as if some tremendous invisible burden had been removed.
Not wanting to cause a scene, Daedalus gave him one last gentle pat before standing to go on about his day. He didn't see the thoughtful look that came across the boy's face, nor the eager and determined one that followed. Neither did he see the boy step away from the sweet shop.
He certainly did hear the screech of tires on pavement, the loud thump of an impact, and the chorus of horrified screams. Like everyone else in the area, he turned immediately towards the source of the commotion. His heart froze upon seeing the unnaturally still form of Harry Potter crumpled in front of the stopped Muggle lorry.
The minutes that followed would always be a bit of a blur. Rushing forward. Drawing his wand in full view of a crowd of Muggles in a desperate attempt to do something, anything for the poor boy. Hearing over and over variations on the statement, "He just stepped out, right in front of it!" Being hauled away by an Auror as Obliviators worked to cover his public use of magic and a Healer sadly covered the last Potter with a white cloth.
Later, some Prophet muckraker would somehow find out from the DMLE investigators the last words of the Boy-Who-Lived:
"Mum, Dad, I'm coming."
