The years passed. They altered things imperceptibly in their days and yet in their entirety shaped souls and faces, with the reckless abandon of a sculptor at play. The seasons cycled round, turning the world green and blue, orange and brown. The birds who had sung at a phoenix’s coming laid eggs, the hatchlings of which had chicks of their own. Childhood sunshine began to turn to dusk.
Brian Potter’s small limbs shot outwards and his tiny face ceased to be all eyes. No toddler stumbled around the Potter family home; instead a skinny boy with piercing blue eyes sat quietly in his room and read - accompanied by the ageless phoenix.
Harry supposed that Brian had inherited a lot from the Weasley side. Ron’s influence was everywhere in his son: from the flaming auburn hair and the long nose, to the sapphire eyes and lanky frame. There was also no doubt that the Potter short-sightedness had claimed him early, leading to a pair of spectacles at the tender age of five.
“Aye, I can see that,” Moody had said once, after Brian had just exited the room from dinner. “But pardon me, Potter, when I say he still doesn’t look very much like either of you.”
The fact was undeniable. Brian’s eyes were not the same shade of blue as Ron’s, the red of his hair was unlike Ginny’s and his frame was far spindlier than even Harry’s. When neither Harry nor Ginny had particularly large feet, it did indeed seem odd that Brian should possess veritable whoppers. There was also something about his face, particularly around the region of his eyes and nose, that was totally unlike either of them.
“There’s not a bit of you in him, Potter,” Moody had growled.
The media had been quick to pounce on the rumours. Although the Chief Auror would not give them an audience, there were other sources, other wells of information to tap. Ancient history was dug up - there were whispers of Dean Thomas and Michael Corner and people as unlikely as Zacharias Smith.
THE DAILY PROPHET 22ND August 2013
Sponsored by Madam Malkin’s - voted Number One in wonderful witch wear!
In the days following his son’s birth, Harry Potter, Chief Auror and Destroyer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, vehemently denied rumours asserting that the child’s paternity was in doubt, writes Eliza Streng, Special Reporter. Yet questions persist…
Ginny had stared over the top of the paper with a pale face. “Harry - you don’t - you don’t think that-”“No, of course not,” he’d said, squeezing her hand. “Never.”
What did it matter what illusions the world laboured under? He loved Brian - and was quite sure that Brian loved him. No, it was for other reasons that Harry worried about his son.
For one thing, the boy was extremely quiet and withdrawn. There were times when he seemed uncomfortable even with his family, and the other children who befriended him soon moved on. He preferred to listen rather than talk - and yet had learned to read so quickly that it was almost beyond belief.
“Harry, don’t take this the wrong way,” Ginny had said when he’d voiced these concerns. “But don’t you think it might be due to you? Oh - not you personally, but your reputation?”
Ginny was right, of course. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. The pressure on Brian was intense - had always been, from a young age. What boy could grow up normally when the shadow of his father extended far and wide, when Daily Prophet reporters still crept around the neighbourhood whenever they were short of actual news? What boy could find it easy to be happy when everything seemed to revolve around Harry Potter, and pass him by?
He’d tried his hardest to shelter Brian, to act as a buffer zone between his son and the media. However, success wasn’t always guaranteed. There was that time when their first family outing to a zoo had been ruined by photographers and journalists, determined to get a snap of ‘the Chief Auror spending time with his family?’
“Yes!” he’d snapped at last, thoroughly fed up. “I’m spending time with my family - or at least I was trying to! Then the bloody Daily Prophet sticks its nose in!”
Luckily, Brian hadn’t seemed rattled by it at the time. He hadn’t even tried to hide behind Harry but had calmly walked out in front, gazing at the zoo animals and seemingly oblivious to the photographers. A Gryffindor to the bone, Harry thought proudly. When they’d got home, with Harry trembling in anger, Brian had even managed to calm the situation down - by flinging his arms round his father’s middle.
“Dad, it‘s all right,” Brian had said in his usual, strangely eloquent manner, staring up at him past the new half-moon glasses he’d insisted on. “I’m not alarmed by any of it. The day wasn’t ruined at all; the zoo was splendid.”
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