Nevertheless,
Harry remained impeccably polite toward his brother and mother.
Lily, for her part, looked distinctly worried every time her gaze fell on him.
The silent exchange between Lily and Petunia as they left the house was positively glacial; Harry might have found it amusing if he hadn’t disliked both women so intensely.
The Potters led him outside to a sleek, obviously expensive limousine waiting at the curb.
A uniformed driver stood ready.
Harry knew the family was wealthy, but the ostentatious display still surprised him.
James insisted on carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s empty cage himself.
Following the owl salesman’s advice, Harry had already sent Hedwig ahead to Hogwarts.
After considering names like Nemesis, Avenger, and Death Talon, he had settled on Hedwig.
He told James he had found it in a book and thought it sounded impressive.
In truth, Hedwig was the patron saint of orphans.
Inside the limousine, Lily turned toward Harry as if to speak.
He cut her off smoothly.
“Look, the last time I spoke with… Dad, I was upset and said some things that probably hurt him—and you, if he repeated them. But I want to go to Hogwarts. I want to learn magic. I want to look forward to the day I never have to set foot on Privet Drive again. If that means letting bygones be bygones and trying to be part of the Potter family, then that’s what I’ll do.”
He offered his most earnest smile, the one that made his cheeks ache with the effort.
He fully expected them to see through the performance.
Instead, all three Potters smiled back with genuine warmth and visible relief.
They were either desperate to believe he could forgive them so easily… or simply thick.
Jim leaned over and punched Harry’s arm in what was clearly meant to be a brotherly gesture.
“That’s great, Har! Dad told us the Dursleys might not have treated you very well. But I promise, it wasn’t exactly a picnic for me either. I’ve been doing special training since I was eight in case Death Eaters came after me. And I’ve had to deal with fans hounding me for autographs everywhere I go. We’ve all had our problems.”
The smile on Harry’s face became almost painful, but he kept it in place and exhaled slowly.
James swallowed nervously.
Clearly, he had downplayed the extent of Harry’s suffering.
“Anyway,” Jim continued, puffing out his chest, “once we get to Hogwarts and we’re both sorted into Gryffindor, I’ll look out for you. Everyone will love you once they find out you’re the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“Jim!” Lily sighed, clearly accustomed to trying—and failing—to curb her younger son’s ego.
James, of course, beamed at the idea of two Potters in Gryffindor.
“Ha! Filch will have a coronary!”
Harry chuckled politely, then grew serious.
“I hope so. But the truth is, Jim and I have lived very different lives despite being twins. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if I’m not sorted into Gryffindor.”
“Not at all, Harry,” Lily said firmly.
“Every house has its strengths. Right, James?”
“Fine, fine,” James conceded.
“No matter which house you end up in, we’ll still love you, and Jim will still look after you.”
Harry let out a small, relieved sigh.
“I’m glad. And for what it’s worth, Jim, I’ll do my best to look after you as well.” The others chuckled warmly.
Harry smiled along with them as he prepared to twist the knife.
“After all… I am the Heir.”
Jim blinked.
“Sorry… what?”
Harry glanced around as if embarrassed by a possible faux pas.
Lily looked surprised.
James looked as though he had swallowed something sour.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said uncertainly.
“I’ve been studying wizarding customs so I don’t embarrass myself in front of important families. There was a whole chapter on the Wizengamot. It said that as the firstborn magical child, I’m automatically the Heir Presumptive to House Potter. Did I get that wrong?” Read this novel at novelping . com for the best experience.
He hadn’t.
Hutchinson’s Commentary had been very clear on the ancient laws of succession.
James hesitated before admitting, “Yes, Harry. Technically, as the eldest, you are the Heir Presumptive. I… hadn’t given it much thought. I plan to live a very long time before handing anything over.”
“Oh, I hope so too, Dad,” Harry replied cheerfully.
He turned back to Jim.
“From what I read, the Wizengamot seems rather boring. I imagine you’re relieved to have an older brother who can handle all the tedious parts—estate management, legal matters, and so on—while you focus on… Boy-Who-Lived things.”
Jim laughed.
“Fair enough! You take care of the boring stuff, and I’ll handle fighting the bad guys.”
Lily clucked her tongue at Jim’s bravado.
James simply stared at Harry with a complicated expression—embarrassment, guilt, and something darker that looked suspiciously like anger.
In that moment, Harry knew.
James had tried to disinherit him in favor of Jim and had discovered he lacked the legal power to do so.
Harry broke eye contact and turned to watch the London streets blur past the window.
He could not afford to show his anger.
Not yet.
And he would not cry.
Once he had regained control, he turned back to his family, mask firmly in place.
The rest of the journey passed in polite, superficial conversation, mostly with Lily.
She answered his questions about life as a Muggle-born student, the treatment of half-bloods, and the origins of Muggle-born magic.
Her responses were vague and somewhat defensive, especially regarding a certain “Snivellus” whom James spoke of with open contempt and Lily refused to discuss, though the name clearly pained her.
Well, Harry thought, if James Potter went through the trouble of inventing an insulting nickname for someone, he can’t be all bad.