Harry selected three very nice new brushes of different thicknesses - the sort with long wood handles for holding - and the shop attendant wrapped them in tissue for protection and slipped them into a long, thin paper bag for safe carrying. James watched proudly as Harry insisted on using his own allowance to pay for the brushes. 

Ah, Evans, you'd be so bloody proud of him.

Lily weighed extra on his heart on Harry's Birthday - more than any other time of the year, even Halloween itself. He supposed it impacted him more on the birthday because the memories of her and Harry were more in focus those days and - if James was honest with himself - the memories of Halloween were blurry at best. A lot of what he remembered of that night was patchworked together by the memories of others, mainly Sirius, because for the life of him James himself couldn't recall much of what happened. Just flashes and pictures that didn't make much sense... and the sound of Lily's voice.

He heard her voice sometimes in the strangest places.

Like right now, walking down the alley toward the Leaky Cauldron, as Harry was talking excitedly about the brushes and why he'd chosen each of the ones he had done, James swore he could hear Lily's laugh in the way the wind blew the signs overhead, the way the hardware on them squeaked and squealed.

"I love you James. I love you Harry. Love. Love. Love..."

Harry held open the door of the Leaky Cauldron for an old witch who paused when she saw him, smiled at him warmly, and said, "Thank you Harry," as she stepped out onto the road, patting the boy on the head. 

"You're welcome," Harry said, nonplussed by the stranger who knew his name.

He was quite used to it, being The Boy Who Lived.

James smiled at the woman, who nodded at him, too, without speaking. They tended not to know what to say to James, these people who so jovially recognized and spoke to Harry. They knew who he was, too, of course, but there was something about speaking to the boy and something utterly different about addressing his father. The Boy Who Lived was famous, and his father was... well, his father was a widower, wasn't he? And what do you say to the widower? To the husband of the Woman Who Loved?

That was, after all, what they called Lily.

The Leaky Cauldron was busy, loads of people clustered around seats, eating and laughing, music playing from the corner and the old bar tender, Tom, wiping the counter with a cheerful countenance. People who noticed Harry wished him Happy Birthday or just said hello to him, and James nodded at the few who greeted him, too. 

"Oh Harry, look how big you've gotten!" cried Annalee Buckner, whose long golden hair was braided beautifully down her back. She was sitting at a table near to the fireplace across from her husband, Sean, and their son, Archie. Archie smiled and waved to Harry, and Sean hurried to wipe his fingers from the grease of the chips he was eating off the platter between them, standing to shake James's hand. "I can't believe how much you've grown just since I last saw you, honey," Annalee said, amazed.

Harry said, "I think I've had a growth spurt."

"I'll say you have!" Sean agreed, smiling and nodding at Harry, then, turning back to James as their handshake ended, he added, "Jaysus-jane an' 'is donkey, mate, he looks more of a dead ringer for you ev'ry time I lay me eyes upon him."

"Poor lad," James quipped, with a smirk.

"But with - with her eyes," Annalee said.

Harry smiled. He liked it when people said he had his mum's eyes.

James nodded, "Exactly her eyes," he agreed.

Sean ruffled Harry's hair. "Did I hear it was your birthday?"

"Sure is," Harry announced, proudly, "I'm eleven!"

"Catch yourself on! You're not, surely."

"He is," James confirmed. "Got his Hogwarts letter this morning."

"WOW!" Archie said, who was a couple years younger than Harry and hadn't yet gotten his own letter.

Annalee's eyes lit up, "Congratulations, though we all knew you'd be headed to Hogwarts one day. Are you excited?"

"Yes, very!" Harry exclaimed, beaming brightly. "We're going to get my wand and supplies!" He reached in his pocket, balancing his package of paint brushes in the crook of one arm, and shook the list for Archie, Sean, and Annalee to see. Archie's face flushed with excitement as his eyes skimmed over the letter in Harry's hand.

"Craic!" Sean said, shaking his head with a smile, "Seems we were just off an' getting our own wands, dunnit?" he looked about between Annalee and James.

When they'd bid good-day to the Buckners, James and Harry made their way through the rest of the pub and out the back door to the entrance of Diagon Alley, the wall of bricks before them. James paused, taking his wand from his sleeve, where he kept it tucked away, and looked Harry over before he tapped the sequence that would let them into the streets of Wizarding London.

When did he get so big?  James wondered.

"May I help open the barrier?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Of course," James said and he lowered his arm enough that Harry could hang on to the wand with him and together they tapped the sequence of bricks that caused the barrier to fall away, folding in on itself, sliding out of view and opening up the wide streets beyond - the shop with their signs moving gently in the breeze and shoppers with their bags and animals, the stacks of cauldrons and smells of food and the shouts of peddlers that lined the road with their carts of wares. Diagon Alley was bustling as always. 

They shopped in all of the usual places for the supplies Harry's list required - books and a cauldron, robes and ties (James was insistent they get Gryffindor items, he was certain Harry would be in Gryffindor, and just as he'd been certain about his own sorting). They took a break once they'd filled Harry's potions kit.

Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor stood bright and cheerful at the end of the blustery road, just on the corner near by the square.

"What's a Birthday without ice cream?" James asked, guiding Harry to the Parlor, which was one of Harry's favorite places in the world.

"Yeah!" Harry said excitedly as he raced for the shop door.

The door jangled as they stepped in and Harry raced for the counter, jumping foot to foot with excitement at the smell of warm waffle cones, and the different flavors of ice cream, which wafted through the shop. James followed Harry, and the shop keeper stood up from behind the long cooler of ice cream, where he'd just been tearing the lid off a new drum of the Forbidden Forest Fudge Chocolate.

Jasper Odair grinned widely when he saw James and Harry. "Odair they are!" he cried out, "I had a feeling I'd find you lot in my shop sometime today!" He winked and smiled, coming 'round the counter and holding out his arms out, inviting Harry into his chest, a deep hug. Harry rushed into Jasper's arms, being fully enveloped in the ice cream maker's grip as he patted his back and kissed the side of his head. "Gods you're so big. Soon you'll be big enough to come and help me out at the shop during summer holiday, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Harry exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"For now," Jasper drew back, "What about a big cup of Golden Broomstick ice cream?" Jasper asked.

"What's golden broomstick ice cream?" Harry gasped.

"Creamy milk chocolate with butterbeer and and caramel ripples."

Harry's eyes went wide, "Ohhh yes that sounds amazing Uncle Jaz."

"One big scoop coming right up!" Jasper declared and then, looking directly at James, he added, "And on the house for the Mini Potter." He smiled and ducked 'round the counter.

James shook his head, smiling, then dropped his coins into the tip jar. "What about a cuppa caramel popcorn for the regular sized Potter, then?"

Jasper smirked, "That one you can pay for," he joked.

James laughed and held up another couple coins and shook them for Jasper to see, then dropped them into the jar as well. Jasper smiled as he bent to scoop out Harry's ice cream from the glass counter. He added on some whipped cream and two cherries - Harry loved the cherries on top - and came 'round to hand him his dish. "There you are, mate," he said, "One dish of Golden Broomstick ice cream with whip and double cherries!" 

"What d'you say?" James prodded.

Harry's eyes were a light, "Thanks Uncle Jasper." He looked at James, "I'll go get our usual table!"

James nodded as Harry raced to get the booth in the corner where he and James always tried to sit when they came - it'd been the usual since as long as Harry could remember, the spot James had always sat to tutor Oliver Kent and eventually Michael Odair and, when Jasper had declared interest in finishing his seventh year work for Hogwarts so he could take some classes at the Uni on the weekends, James had sat there to tutor Jasper through, too.

Now, Jasper slowed in scooping the ice cream for James, watching Harry go and sit, and he looked up at James meaningfully for several seconds. "So how are we doing, Potter?" Jasper asked gently.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Harry getting his Hogwarts letter and all, heading off to school in a month, then, isn't he? How do you think that's going to be?"

James nodded, and though it showed rather plainly on his face - the apprehension - he tried at hiding it. "Ahhh - yeah, yeah, he'll be brilliant, won't he?" James smirked, "I already got Dumbledore to let him take his broomstick with him. Special permissions." He winked at Jasper.

"Oh yeah? No kidding. That's fun. But we both know it's not Harry that I'm asking about."

James faltered.

Jasper raised an eyebrow.

James shrugged, "I'll have loads of time to catch up on my knitting."

Jasper held out the dish of caramel covered popcorn ice cream. "Do a lot of knitting, do you?"

"Someone's gotta keep Remus Lupin in jumpers," James shrugged, and he took a spoonful of his ice cream.

"Does Sirius's lucrative record shop purchased with a portion of the gold left him by his very, very gay Uncle not support Remus's jumper habit?"

"Have you seen how many jumpers Remus owns?" he asked, drawing the spoon from his mouth.

"James."

James took a deep breath. He glanced over at Harry, who was kneeling on the bench seat of their usual table, then turned back to Jasper. "Honestly, mate, I'm scared to death. Just me and Roger in that whole empty house? I mean sure Remus and Sirius will be 'round to visit, but they've got their own lives - they have each other and they both have jobs and interests and things to do that don't revolve around baby sitting me. And Harry's going to be having the time of his life - learning magic and playing gobstones and quidditch and pulling pranks and making friends and all the things that we did when we were at Hogwarts and -- I don't want him to worry about me. I don't want anybody to worry about me. So --" James shrugged. "Dunno. I haven't let myself think too much on it yet. I can't. I'll worry about it when it comes."

Jasper studied James a long moment, then said, "Meg and I were worried about this happening when the boys all left - I mean, Eli's still at home until he graduates, but mostly they've all moved on, they're all doing their own things, too... But blimey, James, I can't imagine what if Meg wasn't in my life and... well." He drew a deep breath, then, "Listen, as not just your friend but also as your support coach... please remember you're not alone." 

"I know," James said, and he reached across to pat Jasper's hand. "Honestly, I know, mate. Thank you."

Jasper paused a long moment, then said, quietly, "James - have you considered --"

"No." James's voice was firm.

"But it's been --"

"I fell in love with her when I was eleven years old, Jaz. I never loved another girl then, I'll never love another girl now." James shrugged. "I got almost three years of being her husband. I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"Loving someone else doesn't mean you loved her any less."

James stared at Jasper. "I didn't deserve what I had... much less for it to happen again." He smiled sadly, then held up the cup of ice cream. "Cheers, Jaz." He turned and walked away across the shop, over to where Harry sat, eating his ice cream.

Japer watched James go and sighed heavily.

Harry looked up at his Dad when James sat down. He smiled as James said, "How's that Golden Broomstick? Good stuff?"

"The best," Harry answered.

But he wasn't thinking about the Golden Broomstick ice cream.

He was thinking about James's words, about the hesitation in his voice, about the way he'd faltered and stumbled and lowered his voice, the way he'd tried to shelter Harry from hearing what he'd said... 

Harry knew one thing for sure:

His Mum had already sacrificed her life for him, Harry, so that he could live.

He wasn't about to let his Dad do the same thing.