Disclaimer: Nope, sadly enough (at least for me) I own neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who. I am merely a writer with far too much time on her hands and a rather large fascination with both fandoms. I am also not in any way, shape or form, profiting from writing this stories.
Charlus Potter was a simple man. He was rich, he was powerful (both politically and magically, thank you very much) and basically had everything a man could possibly want; but in the end he was still a simple man who enjoyed the simple things in life. He loved his wife very much and adored his son enough to spoil the boy just a tad little bit, he enjoyed a good cup of tea in the morning when he read the paper and sometimes a nightcap when he'd had a long day at the Ministry.
Charlus Potter was a man who had enough material goods to make any thief's hands go twitchy and itchy, but Charlus himself cared almost nothing for them, other than the fact that he would be leaving them to his precious family when he finally passed away. He cared not for the gold at his Gringotts vault, nor for the priceless heirlooms and antiques that decorated his manor.
The one material thing Charlus Potter truly cared about was an old silver pocket watch. It had belonged to his father and been given to him on his seventeenth birthday as was custom for young wizards. Charlus had never opened the watch, he didn't care to open it, just guard it and keep it.
And then Charlus, simple, family-loving man that he was, passed away along with his wife. His son James Potter was still a rather young lad, barely out of Hogwarts and still with a lot to learn about life.
James Potter was a good man. He looked rather a bit like his father, with the same perpetually messy hair (though James's was black whereas Charlus's was brown), brown eyes and charming smile, he even had that sense of adventure and mischief that Charlus had experienced when he was younger. James also inherited the vault, the heirlooms, the manor and the watch.
James Potter was a good man, even though he had been a bit of a spoiled brat when he was younger (and there were quite a load of people willing to testify for that, apparently), who also loved his wife and son very, very much. James loved his family so much that he decided to get involved with the Order of the Phoenix, an organization that fought against the most powerful dark wizard of the age, Lord Voldemort. His wife Lily, of course, could not be expected to be far from her husband (nor would James ever risk her wrath by telling her she could not go). And so the couple took part in the fight against the Dark Lord, the fight for a better future for all of wizardkind.
James and Lily did this because they were good people and were completely against the awful ideas and massive bloodshed that the Dark Lord represented, but more than all that, they did it because they wanted a better tomorrow in a better world for their son, Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was virtually a clone of his father (and so partially one of his grandfather), though he did have his mother's bright green eyes. Harry was a happy baby whose world consisted on when the next feeding would be, when Mummy and Daddy would come to play with him and how many times he could get his uncle Siri (sometimes also known to Padfoot the Magnificent, for some reason baby Harry didn't understand) in trouble with his Mummy.
Harry was a happy baby and a good child; he delighted in the company of his family and would let them know by giggling madly and throwing his tiny little arms around in wild expressions of happiness. Harry loved his family, and his family loved him. But then that night came, October 31st (though Harry himself didn't know this at the time, for he had no concept of the calendar yet), and Harry's happy little family was torn apart. The Dark Lord came to their house and murdered the boy's parents in cold blood before trying to kill the boy himself.
Only he couldn't and the Dark Lord died instead, or so most people thought anyway.
And Harry was left alone in the world, even though he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. It could never be said, even by the most kind or the most positive or even the most naive sort of people that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley cared for their nephew. So Harry grew up alone and miserable, away from even the other children at school because he was somehow different, somehow wrong, somewhat a freak.
But then Hagrid came and told him he was a wizard. It was the happiest day Harry could ever remember. He was a wizard, and he could do magic, and there were others like him, and his parents hand't been drunks, and there was a school and he was going there to learn magic. Hagrid was even kind enough to take Harry to Diagon Alley were they would do his school shopping.
They went to all sorts of places, Madam Malkin's for his robes, Ollivander's for his wand, the Apothecary for his potions ingredients and assorted items, Flourish and Blott's for his school books and so on and on. Oh, and they also went to Gringotts Bank to get some of his inherited money to do said shopping. Harry was very much like Charlus in that he didn't care for material goods (though his case might be more because he'd never had any material goods and had been trained from early age not to ask for any). The gold in his vault did surprise him, but other than its importance to get him through school (because let's be honest, his aunt and uncle would not spend one quid on his education) he didn't care about it one bit.
There was, of course, another thing at Gringotts that was legally Harry's that the boy would very much care about and wish to have, but it was hidden away with instructions from James Potter to be sent to his son on his seventeenth birthday. It was tradition in the Potter family, you see, to gift to one's son an old but still shiny silver pocket watch.
AN: So how was it? It's only just the prologue so we have yet to go into any deep explanations and the like, but I'll get there. Liked it, didn't like it? Let me know in your reviews, which I will appreciate very, very, very much.
See you next chapter!