Title: My Foolish Gryffindor Son

Author: CR

Rating: G

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR and the song to Richard Marx

Summary: Lily watches her son go through life, her thoughts

Author notes: While watching the CoS movie, I got to wondering what Lily would be thinking about everything Harry goes through and does if she was watching. For the reference to Prof. Quirrell, I kind of borrowed from the movie instead of the book, because I like that Harry faced a temptation to get his parents back during the Voldemort confrontation.



And when the world seems cold

You feel that all of your strength is gone

There may be one tiny voice, your reason to carry on

And when I'm not close enough to kiss the tears you cry

You will sing your angel's lullaby

~Angel's Lullaby~

Richard Marx

.



Unseen, I've watched him since the moment Voldemort turned his wand on me, watched in relief as the curse reflected off my son and back onto the creature who had orphaned him. And except that it's left him an orphan, I do not regret my sacrifice, I could not. I died the best way any mother can, defending my child.

I screamed in a protest that went unheard as he was placed with my misguided and prejudiced sister, placed in a prison just as surely as poor, loyal Sirius was. And I've watched in agony, unable to reach out to a little boy who tried so hard for love, only to give up after too many rejections. Watched as he gradually withdrew from the world, coming to depend only on himself, something he struggles with even now.

And while I regret the difficulty it caused in his home life, I couldn't help but be both relieved and proud of his unconscious stirrings of magic. My son would never be without his defenses.

I felt relief again the moment Hagrid entered his life for the second time. Finally, my child would be safe and protected by those who truly cared. He could discover and be what he was always meant to be; a great wizard and a treasured soul.

But with the greatest of protections came the greatest of dangers, the sources unpredictable even to me, except in the case of Ron's pet rat, whose presence was a constant worry and threat.

Quirrell, the teacher who was supposed to teach my boy how to defend himself against such dangers, had willingly brought them back to Hogwarts; Harry's first chance to prove himself a Gryffindor, but certainly not the last. I'm not always sure how I feel about that, I feel torn between anger at the risks he takes and pride that he's willing to take them.

I watched proudly as he rejected the offer no orphan has ever had to turn down before risking his life to keep Voldemort away from the stone.

I watched with fear, pity and anger as he was labeled a servant of the dark, yet still rallied to defend his accusers from the teenager who would become Voldemort. Never flinching beneath his gaze, even at the moment of imminent death, stopped only by a bird's tears.

It was with sadness and regret that I watched him attack the one who would sooner kill himself than harm a hair on his godson's head; joy and pride when he didn't strike the fatal blow, when he gave more justice than most of the wizarding world has ever shown in the past. I now know that we didn't just leave our child in this world, we also left hope.

It is a burden my son should never have had to bear, but he bears it with dignity. It is a burden my son is not ready to carry; yet he shoulders it, facing the newly reborn dark lord with the confidence and determination of a fully-grown wizard instead of the fear and timidity of a child well out of his league.

My child has not escaped all this unscathed. The scars from witnessing a schoolmate killed so casually will never truly go away, though in time I hope they torment him less. The knowledge that it was he who, albeit unwillingly, helped the dark lord rise cannot be easy to carry; but he has people to help him with that, people who must fulfill the roles that James and I are unable to, people who see him as more than just the boy-who- lived.

Remus and Sirius would stick like glue to Harry's side, if it were possible. Molly Weasley mothers my child as if he were her own; and the rest of the family has all but officially adopted Harry as one of their own. Dumbledore looks upon Harry almost as a grandson, even as he tries to teach Harry what he needs to survive, knowing that eventually, he will be formally called upon to protect the wizarding world, to be a leader in a battle he never should have had to fight. Hagrid has and will always be protective of him. Even Snape plays his part, though his stubbornly biased and negative views on my son and those close to him need adjusting.

For a boy who lived most of his life with the belief he was unimportant or unworthy, he has a long list of supporters and friends. Ron and Hermione are two children I've long wanted to embrace because they were the first to teach Harry about friendship. And over time, the rest of his classmates (excepting the Slytherins, of course) have also come to see him not just their saviour, but as Harry. I pray this understanding carries over into the darker times ahead

He may not have a family by blood, but he does have a family that is willing to shed it for him. And I can't ask for much more than that.

My son is a good boy, but he's not perfect. He's made mistakes and sometimes done foolish things for foolish reasons, things I'd undoubtedly send him a howler for, if only I could. Like any boy his age, he doesn't give his schoolwork the attention it needs. He is undeniably his father's son when it comes to locating trouble, though that trouble is usually of a more significant and crucial nature than any the marauders ever found. He's also loyal and brave, never afraid defend those who need it. Small battles or big battles, he sees no difference. He has every reason to want to lie down and give up the fight, but the most he ever does is stumble.

For all this and more, I love him, my foolish Gryffindor son.

I only wish I could tell him.