FicWad

At half past six that evening, the entrance hall of Hogwarts was abuzz with excitement. Parents and students mingled, their chatter a blend of nervous anticipation and joyful laughter, all awaiting the assembly that would soon usher them into the resplendent Great Hall. For many, this was not just another day at school; it was a celebration of connections, experiences, and the all-important beginning of a new term.

Lily weaved her way through the throngs of students, her warm smile lingering on her lips even as she scanned the crowd. Today was special; it marked not just the opening of doors but the unveiling of possibilities for her son, Harry. She shifted on her feet, trying to spot the familiar tousle of his dark hair.

Amidst the crowd, she finally spotted Hermione Granger, one of Harry’s closest friends. The girl stood a little taller than most kids her age, her bushy hair bouncing with every barely contained shiver of excitement. Behind her, her parents seemed equally affected, barely able to contain their own apprehension.

“Hello, Hermione, is that you?” Lily called, her heart lightening at the sight of the enthusiastic girl.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Potter!” Hermione replied, a wide smile breaking across her face. She quickly introduced her parents, both equally nervous about the evening’s events, their hands fidgeting as they greeted Lily.

Lily shook their hands warmly, a sense of comfort enveloping her in this familiar space. “You look beautiful, Mrs. Potter,” Hermione complimented, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Thank you, dear.” Lily felt a flutter of pride at the young witch’s sincerity but remained vigilant, scanning the hall for her son. “Have you seen my son?” she asked, hoping the answer was in her favour.

Before Hermione could respond, a familiar wave of enthusiasm surged through the crowd. The grand oak doors creaked open, revealing Harry and the Weasley family. Harry’s eyes lit up upon spotting his mother, and he waved excitedly, cutting through the sea of anxious faces. Lily’s heart swelled as she hurried toward him, greeting him with a warm embrace that spoke volumes of her love and pride.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, sweetheart,” she said, pulling back to take a proper look at him.

“Did you finish what you had to do, Mum?” Harry asked, his expression earnest and slightly worried, as if noticing the tension that loomed over the evening.

“Yes, everything is taken care of,” she reassured him, a gentle smile on her lips. “I came early because I didn’t want to miss the Assembly for my son, of course.”

He beamed at her in response, the warmth of that familiar connection washing away the worries that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Lily said, nodding appreciatively as Mr. Weasley joined them, his presence a comforting one.

Leaning in, Mr. Weasley offered a hushed but grave whisper, “Before we Portkeyed here, we got a message from Dumbledore. Is everything alright?”

Lily’s heart raced as she felt the weight of that question settle over her. She glanced at Harry, who was animatedly chatting with Ron and Hermione, blissfully detached from the shadows of uncertainty flickering at the corners of the hall. With renewed resolve, she turned to Arthur, her voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of laughter. “That strange dream I had… it’s happening, Arthur.”

Concern flickered in Arthur’s eyes, and he leaned away slightly, scanning their surroundings to ensure no one was overhearing. “Is that why Dumbledore called for an order meeting after the assembly?” he enquired, his voice tight with urgency.

Lily nodded, frustration boiling beneath her composed exterior. She felt the weight of her fears pressing against her like a storm cloud ready to burst. “Something’s shifting, and we need to be prepared. I fear…” She paused, her words faltering against the clear excitement around them, hesitant to let her son hear the worry in her voice. “I fear we’re being watched.”

Pushing her fears aside, Lily forced a smile as she turned back to her son, who was now encouraging Ron to study harder. She wished she could wrap Harry in a protective bubble and shield him from shadows lurking in their world.

As the doors to the magnificent Great Hall swung open with a creak that echoed in the excited whispers of the crowd, a sea of students surged into the room, their laughter and chatter a symphony of youthful exuberance. The towering ceilings glittered with enchanted floating candles, and the walls shimmered with the hues of the enchanted night sky.

Amidst the bustling crowd, Harry’s eyes darted around, alighting finally on Albus Dumbledore, whose serene smile seemed to calm even the most frenzied of hearts. The traditional house tables were gone, replaced by smaller tables adorned with shimmering golden plates, which sparkled like stars in the night.

Navigating through the maze of tables was an adventure itself, with students greeting each other with hugs and shouts, familiar voices blending into a comforting background. Harry’s mother, Lily, walked beside him, her eyes warm and full of affection.

At last, they found their seats beside the Weasleys and Grangers. Ron plopped down beside Harry, leaving a noticeable gap between him and his parents, as if he sought refuge in the comfort of friends rather than familial ties.

As Dumbledore rose from his seat, his gaze flicked toward Lily, the corner of his mouth curving into a slight smile before growing serious. He addressed the assembly, “I welcome all students and parents here tonight for our recognition assembly.” We are proud to honour another group of students who have not only shown wit and talent but also dedication to pursuing their dreams and ambitions. But before that, let us tuck in!”

“About time,” Ron announced eagerly, his eyes sparkling as he seized his knife and fork. The moment he spoke, there was a shimmer in the air, and the dishes before them filled magically, releasing a delightful aroma that made Harry’s stomach growl. Almost instinctively, Lily began piling food onto his plate, her motherly instincts kicking in with a vigour he couldn’t shake off.

“Eat as much as you can, okay? You look far too skinny,” she insisted, her eyes filled with warmth and concern.

“Mum, please stop force-feeding me,” he protested, his face flushing red with embarrassment. “I can serve myself.”

“Not a chance,” Mr. Weasley chimed in with good-natured laughter. “To your mum, you’ll always be her one and only cherished son. Even if it means piling on the pounds!”

Harry buried his face in his food, thankful for the delicious distraction. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at Mr. Weasley’s good humour. “Just a little more, sweetheart,” Lily said, nudging him playfully. “A little extra weight never hurts anyone!”

Across the table, Hermione sat engrossed in a scroll of parchment that had appeared mysteriously before her. Her brow furrowed as she examined the names listed, clearly unhappy with her position in the standings.

“Look there!” Ron exclaimed, pointing at the parchment. “Harry’s got the top mark!”

Hermione hardly glanced up, absorbed in her own pretzel of disappointment. He met Hermione’s gaze and saw a half-hearted smile flicker across her face.

Lily’s eyes sparkled with pride as she read the parchment. “Well done, sweetie. I’m so proud of you!” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand, grounding him for a moment amidst the swelling tides of noise and laughter.

“I don’t see your name listed here, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley chimed in, scanning the paper, a hint of indignation lacing her voice. Ron slunk down behind Harry, mumbling something indistinct that sent the table into fits of laughter.

Dumbledore’s voice cut through the excited murmur, his gentle presence commanding attention. “Now that we are all fed and watered, let us begin the Recognition Assembly. Please refer to the paper that appeared on your tables,” he announced, his eyes twinkling as they scanned the room. “It contains all the information you will need for the ceremony.”

The Great Hall erupted with excitement, the sound of turning pages filling the air as every individual eagerly sought out their own name on the list. Cheers of joy could be heard from some students who successfully located their names, their faces beaming with happiness. Conversely, there were also those who appeared crestfallen or anxious, their expressions betraying their inner emotions as they scanned the list with trepidation.

“Student life can present challenges…” Dumbledore continued, his voice steady and reassuring. “Balancing your studies with other duties—career, friends, family—takes dedication.” He paused, smiling.

Lily nodded along. She recalled the late nights spent helping Harry with his studies and the moments of despair when he felt overwhelmed with everything on his plate. Yet the resolve in him never wavered.

“But remember,” Dumbledore went on. “It’s all part of the journey to becoming the best version of yourself, and the lessons you learn along the way will shape you into a stronger, more resilient individual. Remember, the struggles you face now will only make your successes even sweeter in the end. I’m pleased to say many students embraced their education wholeheartedly this year, making great efforts to succeed.”

As Dumbledore’s gaze landed on Harry, a lump formed in Lily’s throat. Harry had grown so much this past year, not merely in prowess but in character. She caught a glimpse of Ron, his loyal friend, who gave Harry an encouraging pat on the back. Friends, she thought. Friends make the journey lighter.

“And some went above and beyond,” Dumbledore said, his eyes glinting with mischief as he winked at Harry. The hall erupted in applause, and a tide of cheers washed over Harry, brightening his cheeks. Lily felt a swell of pride expanding in her chest.

“Now, I believe some recognition is in order,” Dumbledore continued, gesturing to a table adorned with glistening trophies and plaques.

The first awards were announced, and Lily held her breath. Each name called produced a flame of joy. When finally Dumbledore addressed the merit awards for outstanding contributions to spells, potions, and practical work, Harry’s name echoed through the hall.

“HARRY POTTER!” Dumbledore declared, his voice ringing with approval.

The applause was thunderous. Lily’s heart raced as Harry stood, momentarily frozen in disbelief. A burst of pride surged through her as he moved toward Dumbledore, a mix of honour and nerves colouring his features.

Lily’s eyes shimmered with tears, not out of sadness but joy. This recognition—it meant more than just a trophy. It was a validation of Harry’s hard work, his late-night studies, and the struggles he overcame, whether it was battling beasts or mastering spells. It was a celebration of resilience, something she wanted him to carry as he aged.

“And for courage in the face of adversity, for facing challenges with integrity, we present Harry Potter with the prestigious Gryffindor Achievement Award!” Dumbledore proclaimed, handing Harry the shining plaque, which gleamed brighter than the candles above.

As the applause roared, Harry turned to face the audience, his eyes scanning the hall until they found his mother’s. In that moment, he smiled. It was a smile that said he recognised the journey wasn’t just his alone—it was theirs.

With newfound confidence, Harry stepped down, his heart filled with gratitude as Ron slapped him on the back, whispering, “You did it, mate!” The overwhelming sensation of acceptance and recognition enveloped him, and he knew he was not just Harry but a young man stepping steadily into his own.

The event had concluded, and as students filtered out, a solemn undertone hung in the air, pressing down on her like an invisible weight. Dumbledore’s words echoed in her mind—“I will speak to the Order tonight about patrolling Hogsmeade. Continue as planned.”

She turned her gaze toward the headmaster, who was gliding toward her with his familiar grace. There was comfort in his presence, but that night, the spark of excitement she had felt earlier transformed into a creeping sense of dread. Looking into Dumbledore’s wise blue eyes, she felt a twinge of anxiety knotting in her stomach. “Do not worry. All will be well,” he had reassured her, squeezing her shoulder as if to ground her to the present. Yet doubts clawed at her mind.

Lily could hear Ron asking his mother, Molly, where his father had gone. “He and Dumbledore have business,” came Molly’s calm reply. Lily envied that calmness, wishing she shared it.

“My mum and dad will be having a small celebration at home,” Hermione had said with her usual spark, her eyes shining as she turned to Lily. “Would you like to join us, Mrs. Potter?”

But Lily barely registered the words. She felt like a ghost drifting through her own life, haunted by the shadows of recent memories. Anxiety gnawed at her. Harry’s safety overshadowed even the happiest of occasions, the echoes of past threats clinging to her every thought.

It was only when Harry called to her that she snapped out of her daze. “Mum, are you alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“What?” Lily replied absently, blinking rapidly as if awakening from a nightmare. She could see his brow furrowed—a reflection of the worry that had begun etching lines upon his forehead.

Hermione repeated the invitation, her cheerful tone unwavering, but even the bright girl’s enthusiasm seemed to falter under the weight of Lily’s apprehension.

Molly noticed Lily’s troubled expression before anyone else did. “That would be lovely, Hermione, dear,” she interjected kindly. “But may I suggest a better plan? We could all celebrate tomorrow at the Burrow.”

“Oh yes!” Hermione exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement, as if a brilliant idea sparked to life. “I think that’s brilliant, Mrs. Weasley.” Mr. and Mrs. Granger nodded in agreement.

“Mum,” said Harry quietly. “Is something wrong?”

Lily wiped the beads of sweat from her brow, trying to conceal her unease. “No, nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Where would you like to go?” She asked, forcing cheer into her voice despite her racing heart.

The abrupt brightness surprised Harry. He wasn’t used to seeing his mother so on edge, her smile forced and her eyes darting everywhere, as if expecting someone—or something—to come through it. “Oh, uh,” he paused, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “We could go to the Three Broomsticks and have dessert.”

Lily inhaled sharply; the name felt like a dagger to her chest. The Three Broomsticks were in Hogsmeade, forbidden ground for them since... well, since the incident.

“...I wanted to try their new—” Harry continued, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside his mother.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” Lily asked, cutting him off, her voice a little too sharp. Her heart raced as she stopped herself from blurting ‘anywhere but Hogsmeade.’ She did not want to ruin Harry’s evening or dampen his spirits, but the thought of returning to those streets made her stomach churn.

Harry hesitated. “We could try Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop,” he suggested half-heartedly, but it was clear he only mentioned it to appease her. After a beat, he added, “But I’d really prefer the Three Broomsticks.”

Ron couldn’t help but overhear, and he interrupted before he could stop himself. “The Three Broomsticks again?” Ron interrupted. “I know it’s your favourite restaurant, Harry, but—”

“His favourite restaurant?” Lily murmured under her breath. She had always been unaware of this fact until now. The desire to make Harry happy surged within her, battling against the panic that gripped her heart. Despite her initial reluctance to visit Hogsmeade, the idea of sharing an evening with him at his favourite spot began to chip away at the walls she’d built around her heart.

She glanced at Harry, whose expression mixed anticipation with disappointment. He was a good kid, awash in kindness and respect, always folding himself into others’ expectations. But tonight was special; it was a celebration, after all. Lily wanted nothing more than to deliver the gift of joy to him, even if it meant stepping back into a place she hadn’t wanted to revisit.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, forcing herself to smile genuinely this time. “Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks.” Knowing the decision she had made twisted her stomach, but she pushed the feeling aside, determined to enjoy the evening with her son.

“Really?” Harry’s face broke into a grin that unlatched a flood of warmth in Lily’s chest. He stepped closer; his earlier uncertainty washed away. “Awesome! I can’t wait to try their new dessert! It’s supposed to be a chocolate explosion or something.”

Lily had always known that safety came with a heavy price. As she and her son Harry stepped out of the Entrance Hall, she felt the weight of that knowledge settle deeper into her bones. The assembly had been lively, a rare moment of laughter amidst the backdrop of uncertainty, but now it seemed like another world entirely.

Their walk felt longer than it should have, each step laden with unspoken fears. The night sky loomed above, dark and pressing, and Lily’s heart raced. Finally, they reached the Three Broomsticks, its warm glow spilling onto the street, illuminating Harry’s eager face.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door together, they were met by a swirl of sounds—laughter, clinking glasses, and the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked goods wafting through the air. It felt like stepping into a sanctuary.

“Let’s sit by the window,” Lily suggested, her instinct for vigilance overpowering her desire to simply relax. She needed to see the world outside, even as a small voice in her head reminded her that paranoia could become a prison of its own.

As they settled at the well-worn table, Harry looked around, his face lighting up at familiar faces from the assembly still lingering about. Madam Rosmerta soon approached with a warm smile and a nod, taking their order with practiced ease.

Lily resumed her watch, peering through the glass into the dimly lit street. The gentle glow of the lampposts framed the scene. She hoped to see an Order member, a sign of reassurance that they were not alone in the ongoing fight, but the only figures moving in the shadows were families enjoying a late-night stroll and couples snug under the blanket of night with hands intertwined.

“Do you like this place?” Harry broke the silence.

Lily looked up, wrenching her thoughts away from her insecurities. There was genuine warmth in Harry’s gaze, a mix of curiosity and concern. She smiled weakly, trying to push the worries from her mind. “This is actually my favourite place, after Godric’s Hollow,” she confessed, a nostalgic twinkle igniting in her eyes.

A sigh of relief escaped Harry’s lips. “I thought you would hate it. You looked so worried earlier.”

Lily chuckled lightly. “Oh, that was nothing, sweetheart. I was just feeling a little homesick, that’s all.” With every passing moment in this pub, her heart felt a little lighter.

“Minus the nervousness,” Harry said, a confident smile spreading across his face, “you looked confident at the meeting.”

“But you weren’t at the ministry today,” Lily replied, a frown creeping into her expression. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I brought you the blue folder, but you had it already, so I slipped away,” Harry explained, meticulously avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Remembering her earlier outburst—one that had left even the stern Ministry officials momentarily taken aback—she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

With a gentle smile, she extended her hands and offered Harry a small, meticulously wrapped package. “I want you to have this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry raised an eyebrow, hinting at both curiosity and scepticism. “What is it?” He examined the package, turning it over, feeling the smoothness of the wrapping paper under his fingers as he tried to uncover its secrets.

“Something I should have given you long ago,” Lily replied, her gaze drifting. “I hope it brings you some comfort.”

With a mixture of hesitation and anticipation, Harry carefully peeled away the wrapping paper. As it fell away, he revealed a small brass-lidded case, cleverly constructed and adorned with intricate engravings. Gingerly, he opened it, and a gasp escaped his lips. Nestled inside was a stunning pocket watch, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the room. The craftsmanship was exquisite, with detail so fine that each dial seemed to tell a story of its own. But it was the engraving on the back that truly caught his breath: “H.E.”

“It was my father’s,” Lily explained, her voice steady yet tinged with nostalgia. She watched as Harry absorbed the significance of the moment. “He gave it to me when I started at Hogwarts, and now I’m passing it on to you.” Her smile broadened, reflecting pride and love.

With trembling hands, Harry turned the watch over, admiring the delicate hands poised as if forever suspended in time. As he delved deeper into the case, he discovered the placement of two photographs, carefully arranged inside. He paused, heart racing, before lifting the first picture into sight. Heat rushed to his cheeks as two familiar faces met his gaze—his parents, cradling him as a baby. The sight was overwhelming, a sweet and poignant reminder of moments lost in the fog of years and grief.

“Are they…” he began, hope mingling with curiosity, desperately wishing for some memory to connect him further to the family he felt he knew only through tales and whispers.

Lily leaned in closer as he shifted the photograph, revealing two more individuals—slightly older, with warm and generous smiles that were both comforting and curious. “That’s… your grandparents, yes,” she finished for him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “They loved you so much, you know.”

Harry felt his emotion envelop him. He closed the lid gently, cradling the watch against his chest, the weight of the legacy suddenly profound. “Thank you, Mum,” he whispered, overwhelmed by the depth of what she had given him—not just a timepiece, but a connection to the past and a reminder of love that transcended time and sorrow.

Madam Rosmerta returned with two butterbeers and desserts, setting them gently on the table before giving them privacy. “Enjoy your treats, dears,” she said kindly before walking away.

“I’m so proud of you, Harry,” Lily began, her voice trembling slightly as she turned to face him. She took a step toward him, searching his eyes for the boy she once knew, the boy who clung to her leg, begging her to read one more story. “You’re doing better than you think. You’ve overcome obstacles that no one knows about, mostly on your own. I haven’t been honest with you or myself all these years,” she continued, her voice catching at the edges of her sentence. She could see the confusion in Harry’s eyes.

Harry held his breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in the spaces between them. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that he hadn’t been invisible all those years. “What do you mean, Mum?” he asked quietly, as if afraid to dig too deeply into the conversation, afraid of what might lie beneath.

“You’ve been through so much, never letting anyone see your darkest times. I pushed you away,” she whispered, the tears rising unbidden now, betraying her. “Yet you persevered. You have a beautiful heart, Harry. For all those years of rejection and judgement I’m not proud of—I wish I could still prove to you that you deserve more credit than you realise.”

Harry’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t want to feel anger; he’d spent so many years trying to heal the wounds they both bore. “We can still do it, Mum,” he said, trying to summon optimism amid the layers of tension. “Just like in Godric’s Hollow.”

Lily smiled sadly; it was a place they’d visited once. It had been a fleeting memory of warmth—a day filled with laughter, a small escape from reality. She reached out, taking his hands gently in hers, letting the heat of his palms meld with her own, but the warmth only reminded her of all she had done wrong. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’ve been a terrible mother—”

“No, you haven’t—” he interrupted softly, his heart aching for her pain.

“I—” Her voice broke, and rather than finish, she pressed her hands to her face and wept. “I didn’t spend enough time with you—”

“You did—” Harry tried again, but the light in her green eyes clouded over with sadness.

“—or show you enough care and affection—”

“You cared—” he whispered, desperately attempting to free her from this cycle of blame.

“—I... I couldn’t make you happy—” She broke down, breaking the silence like a fragile glass shattering on the floor.

Harry stood up and moved around the table, kneeling beside her, enveloping her small frame in his arms. They sat there, in the sombre embrace, two souls bound not just by blood but also by the shared weight of their history. He could feel her trembling as she cried, the walls heaving with the force of her pent-up guilt.

“Please...” Harry had pleaded, his voice soft yet imploring. He reached for her hands, his youthful sincerity shining through his worried gaze. “Mum, you mean the world to me. Your endless love and care have brought me such happiness—more than I could have ever imagined. You are not horrible at all. All I need is your presence in my life to feel fulfilled. Please know how cherished you are.”

The warmth of his small hands wrapped around hers had only brought forth more tears, but his grip tightened gently, as if to anchor her amidst the swelling of her emotions.

“Please don’t cry, Mum,” he said, his voice a mixture of tenderness and authority that only a son could wield. “It hurts me to see you so upset. I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’ve been very emotional today. You’ve cried so many times, and it’s breaking my heart. I hate to see you like this.”

Lily couldn’t hold back her tears. “I-I don’t want to lose you,” she managed to say between sobs, each word tugging at her heart, each tremor in her voice revealing the depths of her mother’s love and fear. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Harry rubbed her back soothingly, anchoring her in the present and helping to calm her racing thoughts. “You won’t lose me. I promise,” he reassured her. “Please, you have to stop crying.” He held her for what felt like an eternity, his small hands offering strength and solace until the storm within subsided to occasional hiccups and shudders.

Slowly, Lily regained her composure, wiping away the remnants of her breakdown. She looked completely drained, not just in her figure but in her spirit. Yet Harry hugged her again, unwilling to break their connection. “I’m sorry for breaking down like that,” she managed to whisper, the remnants of her emotional turmoil gone but replaced by a lingering vulnerability.

Harry slid the apple pie across the table, its golden crust tempting and warm. “Please cheer up, Mum.”

Lily managed a small smile, weary yet grateful for her son’s presence. “I’m sorry if I ruined your party.”

“It’s okay, Mum,” he said softly, reaching out to hold her hand. His fingers squeezed hers gently, a gesture of reassurance. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’re more important to me. The food can wait. I just want you to feel better.”

As they locked eyes, a moment of understanding passed between them—a bond that grew stronger with every shared experience. “You’ve really grown into the wonderful young man I always hoped you’d be,” she said, her eyes shimmering with love and pride.

“Okay, Mum, let’s eat before the waterworks start again,” he joked gently, breaking the heaviness of the moment.

Lily’s soft laughter was like music to his ears. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Mum.”