Harry Potter: The Revenant

The days leading up to Harry and Rose's 6th birthday were anything but calm. In the heart of New York City, Lily Potter led the shopping expedition with an air of quiet determination. The group consisted of Rose, her adorably bratty yet slowly improving daughter; Natasha Romanoff, the ever-composed and sharp-witted former assassin grappling with an awkward attraction to Harry; Andromeda Tonks, providing sage advice with her usual no-nonsense demeanor; and twelve-year-old Nymphadora Tonks, who somehow managed to trip over everything in sight despite her enthusiasm.

The mission: to find birthday presents for two children with wildly different experiences of the world.

Rose was practically skipping along, her arms swinging as she admired the glitz of New York's department stores. She was decked out in a stylish outfit that screamed "spoiled princess," though the occasional sharp glance from Natasha kept her behavior from devolving into outright tantrums.

"Can I get this, Mum?" Rose called, holding up a glittering pink tiara from a display. "It's perfect for my birthday outfit!"

Lily sighed, stepping closer. "Darling, we're here to buy presents for Harry and you, not just to add more sparkles to your collection." Her tone was patient but firm, the remnants of Albus Dumbledore's spoiling still evident in Rose's every gesture. "Pick one thing you truly want, and that's it."

Rose pouted but nodded, placing the tiara back with a dramatic sigh. Natasha smirked. "You've got her wrapped around your finger, Lily. That's impressive."

"Work in progress," Lily replied with a chuckle. "Years of undoing Dumbledore's indulgence take time. Speaking of, what about you, Nat? Any idea what to get Harry?"

Natasha froze, the question hitting her like a freight train. What did you get for a boy who was technically six but looked like an Olympic athlete, thanks to the magical super-soldier serum? Especially when said boy had wormed his way into her guarded heart without even trying.

"I was thinking... maybe something practical," Natasha said, frowning as she examined a shelf of books. "Like training gear? Or maybe a new weapon?"

Twelve-year-old Tonks, trailing behind, snorted. "Yeah, 'Happy Birthday, Harry, here's a battle axe'—that totally won't make it awkward."

"Do you have a better idea, Nymphadora?" Natasha shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Tonks groaned. "Don't call me that! And for the record, Harry seems like the kind of guy who'd like something... personal. Not all 'spy assassin.'"

Andromeda, observing from a few steps away, chimed in. "Nymphadora's not wrong, you know. Harry has spent most of his life fighting or surviving. Perhaps something sentimental might remind him he's just a boy, too."

Natasha glanced at Lily, who gave her a knowing smile. "You'll figure it out," Lily said gently. "Just think about what makes Harry happy, not what you think he needs. He's got enough people dictating his life already."

Natasha nodded, her gaze turning thoughtful as the group moved toward the next store. Lily, meanwhile, was silently grappling with her own set of challenges. She wanted this birthday to be perfect—a chance to celebrate her children properly after years of trauma and separation. But what did you get for a boy who had survived unspeakable horrors? And for a girl who was only just learning the value of kindness?

While Rose darted ahead to admire a stuffed unicorn in a toy store window, Lily exchanged a look with Andromeda. "Any ideas?" she asked.

Andromeda smiled faintly. "Something that brings them joy, Lily. It doesn't have to be perfect—it just has to show them you care."

The words settled over Lily as she gazed at Rose, her little princess who had once been lavished with gifts by a manipulative old man. Nearby, Natasha picked up a sleek leather jacket, turning it over in her hands as if wondering whether it was something Harry would appreciate.

Lily stepped over to her. "What's that?"

Natasha shrugged, but there was a flicker of nervousness in her eyes. "I thought maybe he'd like something cool. Practical but... you know, stylish."

Lily's smile was warm. "He'd love it, Natasha. He'd love anything you pick out, because it's from you."

Natasha hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks, Lily. I just... I want to get it right."

"You will," Lily assured her. "Trust me, Harry adores you. Just don't overthink it."

As they exited the store, laden with bags and brimming with ideas, the group felt a flicker of something rare: hope. For all the complexities of their lives, the laughter of a soon-to-be-six-year-old girl and the faint smiles of a boy who had been through too much were worth every moment of effort. This birthday, Lily decided, would mark the beginning of something new—something better.

And for Natasha? Well, she might still be figuring things out, but one thing was certain: she wasn't going anywhere.

—-

In the dimly lit workshop of the safehouse, the hum of machinery and the faint smell of soldering filled the air. James Potter and Sirius Black, dressed in matching jumpsuits that Howard Stark had begrudgingly provided, stood hunched over a cluttered workbench. Surrounding them were an array of tools, scraps of metal, and a half-disassembled communication mirror.

Tony Stark, leaning back in a rolling chair with a cup of coffee in hand, watched the scene with a bemused smirk. At just sixteen, he already had the swagger of someone who knew he was destined for greatness—or at least, for headlines. He was multitasking, of course, with one hand flipping through blueprints on a tablet and the other occasionally tinkering with a holographic interface projected from his watch.

"All right, Prongs," Sirius said, squinting at the mirror's crystalline surface. "You sure this thing can handle Stark-level upgrades? It's already fragile as hell."

James snorted, adjusting his glasses as he poked at the enchanted runes etched into the mirror's edges. "Relax, Padfoot. These mirrors have survived multiple Marauder catastrophes. Remember the time we accidentally linked one to the bathroom mirror at Hogwarts? McGonagall nearly had a stroke."

Tony chuckled from his seat. "Yeah, well, let's hope your magical relics can survive a little Stark ingenuity. I'm not responsible if they start broadcasting to every radio tower in New York."

Howard Stark entered the room, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag. "Tony, quit giving them a hard time. Magic and tech—this is groundbreaking stuff, and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah, groundbreaking," Tony replied, his tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. "But I've got a paper due at MIT, and I'm not exactly in the mood to rewrite it because your wizard friends fried my laptop with their wand-waving."

Howard ignored the quip and joined the others at the workbench. "What's the plan, gentlemen?"

James grinned, his face lighting up with mischief. "Simple. We're upgrading the communication mirrors so they're not just for face-to-face chats. We want holographic displays, maybe even integrated spell functionality—like tracking charms or emergency alerts."

"And pranks," Sirius added, deadpan. "Let's not forget pranks. It's still us, after all."

Howard raised an eyebrow. "Pranks?"

"Relax, Howard," Sirius said with a wink. "We're repurposing old Marauder tech—harmless stuff. Like charm-activated distractions or, say, a confetti burst for special occasions."

Tony let out a low whistle. "And here I thought I was the master of multitasking. You're turning a magical FaceTime device into an all-purpose Swiss Army mirror."

"Exactly," James said proudly. "But seriously, it's for the kids. Harry's too responsible to prank anyone, but I figure Rose could use a laugh. Plus, the tracking charm feature will let Lily sleep better at night."

"Thoughtful and mischievous," Tony said, shaking his head. "You two are an enigma."

As the Marauders continued bickering over rune alignment and wiring compatibility, Tony leaned back and sipped his coffee. Despite himself, he found their antics endearing. It wasn't often he got to see adults—especially ones tied to a world as secretive as magic—so openly playful.

Still, his thoughts drifted to Harry. The kid had been through hell and back, and yet he carried himself with a quiet strength that Tony couldn't help but admire. What did you get for someone like that? Someone who deserved the world but wouldn't ask for a thing?

"Hey, Dad," Tony said, interrupting the flow of magical jargon. "Any thoughts on a birthday gift for Harry?"

Howard paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "Something practical, I'd say. He's a smart kid, resourceful. Maybe something he can build on."

Tony nodded slowly. "Yeah, that tracks. Maybe I could rig up something small—a gadget or tool he can tinker with. Something that says, 'Welcome to the Stark way of thinking.'"

"Just don't make it too complicated," James said, looking up with a grin. "Harry's brilliant, but he's still six."

"Mentally, maybe," Tony muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from Sirius.

The workshop buzzed with renewed energy as the men—two wizards and two engineers—delved deeper into their project. It wasn't just about the mirrors anymore; it was about creating something meaningful for two kids who had already captured their hearts.

For James and Sirius, it was a chance to give Harry and Rose a piece of their legacy. For Tony, it was an opportunity to connect with someone who, despite their differences, reminded him of himself—a kid who'd had to grow up way too fast.

And for Howard? Well, he'd seen plenty of genius in his lifetime, but watching his son work alongside wizards? That was a whole new kind of magic.

—-

In the quieter, less chaotic corner of the safehouse, Gideon Adler sat in a well-worn armchair, his silver hair catching the light from the fire crackling in the nearby hearth. A wooden table beside him was cluttered with parchment, quills, and a stack of rare magical tomes. In his hand, he held a slim wand, its carved surface worn smooth by years of use. Despite his serene surroundings, his expression was far from calm.

The man formerly known as Gellert Grindelwald, once the most feared Dark Lord in magical history, now found himself grappling with something far more intimidating: picking a birthday present for Harry.

Gideon sighed, his piercing blue eyes scanning the pages of a book he'd been studying. It was an ancient tome on protective enchantments, filled with spells that had once been used to safeguard entire kingdoms. He'd already marked a dozen pages with spells he thought Harry might find useful—wards, shield charms, and advanced defensive magic. But none of it felt... personal.

"I was once the greatest wizard of my time," he muttered to himself. "And now, I'm paralyzed over what to gift a six-year-old boy."

"Talking to yourself again, old man?" a voice quipped from the doorway.

Gideon looked up to see Andromeda Tonks leaning against the frame, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. "Let me guess—you're trying to outdo whatever James and Sirius are cooking up?"

Gideon huffed, setting the book down. "I wouldn't dignify their antics with the word 'competition.' This is about Harry. The boy deserves something meaningful."

Andromeda stepped into the room, glancing over the scattered books and notes. "You've already taught him more about magic than most wizards learn in a lifetime. What could possibly top that?"

Gideon hesitated, his gaze dropping to the wand in his hand. "It's not about topping anything. It's about giving him something that reflects how much he means to me. Harry... saved me in ways I didn't think possible. I need him to know that."

Andromeda softened, pulling a chair closer and sitting down. "You've already shown him that, Gideon. You defected from Hydra, orchestrated his escape, and stood by his side through everything. But if you're looking for something tangible, why not something that connects to his magic?"

"I've considered that," Gideon admitted. "But what?"

Andromeda picked up one of the books and flipped through it absentmindedly. "You've always been fond of artifacts. Why not create something unique for him? A focus item, perhaps—a magical tool he can grow into."

Gideon's eyes lit up, a spark of inspiration igniting. "A focus item... yes. Something that will grow with his magic, enhance it, and protect him."

He stood abruptly, his mind racing. "I could craft a medallion. Enchanted, of course. It would hold layered protections, amplify his magical abilities, and even serve as a tether to me if he ever needs guidance."

Andromeda smiled. "That sounds perfect. And knowing you, it'll be a masterpiece."

"I'll need to start immediately," Gideon said, already moving toward the shelves to retrieve the necessary materials. "The enchantments alone will take days, and the carving must be precise."

As he began assembling his tools and materials, Andromeda leaned back, watching him with quiet amusement. "You really do care about him, don't you?"

Gideon paused, his hands hovering over a piece of enchanted silver. "He's more than just a student or a ward, Andromeda. He's... family. The closest thing I'll ever have to a grandson."

Andromeda's smirk softened into a warm smile. "Then I think he's going to love whatever you create. Because it's coming from the heart."

Gideon didn't respond, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he set to work. The medallion would be his magnum opus, a blend of old magic and new purpose—a symbol of the bond he shared with Harry.

For now, though, he let the work consume him, the room filling with the soft hum of enchantments and the steady scrape of carving tools. In the quiet, he allowed himself to hope that this gift would convey everything he couldn't quite put into words.

—

The streets of New York were bustling with the usual noise of traffic, street vendors, and tourists, but for Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Peggy Carter, the world felt like a quieter place. They walked together in a comfortable silence, each of them still adjusting to the changes in their lives, the ones that had been thrust upon them when the world had shifted in ways they never could've predicted.

Steve, still adjusting to being back in the 21st century after decades trapped in the ice, was always a little out of place here, no matter how many times he walked these streets. He'd gotten used to the technology, the speed of everything around him, but it was still a lot to take in. Bucky, on the other hand, was adjusting to the fact that he wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore, a fact that felt both like a blessing and a curse. Peggy, having gone from leading S.H.I.E.L.D. at an advanced age to being a Super Soldier again in her prime, had found it all the more surreal.

But today, they walked as a team—something that had felt impossible not too long ago.

"So," Steve began, his hands in his jacket pockets as he glanced at his two companions. "We're on a mission, right? Harry and Rose's birthday?"

"Yep, that's why we're out here," Bucky said with a hint of a smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. His recovery had been slow, and while Harry had helped him piece his life back together, the weight of what he'd done as the Winter Soldier still lingered.

Peggy, who had her arms crossed, walked with a stride that still commanded respect, even in the quiet of a civilian setting. "They're our responsibility now, Bucky. And I'm not about to mess up their birthday presents, especially not after everything Harry's been through."

Steve chuckled softly. "I think he's tough enough to handle a bad gift, Peg. But you're right. Harry's been through a lot. We all know that."

They walked in a comfortable rhythm, their pace slower than it had been when they were younger, but the camaraderie between them was undeniable. Steve cleared his throat.

"So, Bucky. You've trained Harry. What do you think? What's the kid want?"

Bucky shrugged, his usual nonchalance at play. "He's not much for gifts. He's got a lot of people giving him stuff all the time, but... he's not the kind of kid who cares for much of it. He's always thinking about other people."

"He needs to be reminded to think about himself too," Peggy said with a knowing glance. "He's not a soldier anymore, but he's been through a hell of a lot. He deserves to have a little fun. A reminder that he's just a kid."

Steve nodded. "Right. So we get him something that says that, then?"

"Exactly." Peggy smiled a little. "Maybe something that speaks to who he is now, not what he was."

Bucky tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Harry's pretty sentimental, actually. He won't admit it, but he holds on to things. I mean, I trained him, but he always remembers the little things."

Steve's expression softened. "He's a good kid. I'm proud of him."

Bucky nodded, looking off into the distance. "Yeah, me too. After everything he's been through, he still hasn't lost that spark. That hope." He paused. "Maybe a gift that helps him hold on to that. Something that gives him a sense of belonging, I guess."

"I think I know just what to get him," Peggy said, her lips curling into a thoughtful smile. "Something that reflects both his past and his future. Maybe something a little personal, like... a piece of history. Something that connects him to the people who care about him."

Steve looked from Peggy to Bucky, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Alright, now you've got me curious. What's your idea?"

"Something like a photo album," Peggy said, tapping her fingers together. "But not just any album. Something that holds his memories—the good ones. Maybe we get a few pictures from his past and let him fill in the rest. A place for all the people he's met, all the people who've helped him along the way."

Bucky grinned. "That's actually pretty good, Peg. Maybe I'll add a picture of me and him during our training sessions, just to remind him of the good old days."

Steve smiled at that, the thought of Harry having such a tangible connection to all the people who cared for him was something he wholeheartedly approved of. "I like it. It's personal, it's meaningful... and it's not something you can buy in a store. He'd appreciate that."

"Agreed," Peggy said. "Now, what about Rose? We can't forget her."

Steve's smile widened a little. "Rose is easier. She's got that fiery personality, but she's still a kid at heart. What do you think, Bucky? Any ideas?"

Bucky scratched his head, clearly thinking. "She's always chasing after Harry, wanting to be just like him. Maybe something that helps her stand on her own, though. Something that lets her express herself. She's got potential, just needs to find her thing."

"I was thinking something like that, too," Steve said. "Maybe some art supplies? Or something that sparks her creativity."

Peggy's eyes lit up. "A painting set? She could use that to channel her energy into something positive."

"Perfect," Bucky said, nodding. "She'll love it. And if nothing else, it'll keep her occupied for hours."

Steve gave a soft laugh, looking down at his two companions. "Well, this was a good day. I think we've got everything we need for Harry and Rose."

They turned a corner, making their way back toward the safehouse, the weight of the world still on their shoulders, but for a moment, it felt lighter. For the first time in a long while, the future didn't feel so uncertain.

"Peggy," Steve began, after a moment's silence, "I think this birthday's going to mean something special. For all of us."

Peggy glanced at Steve, her expression softening. "It will. Harry and Rose have no idea how much they've already changed us."

And for once, all three of them felt the hope that had eluded them for so long—a hope for the future, for healing, and for a family they had never expected to find.

—

Harry leaned back on the couch, one hand propped behind his head, as he stared at the ceiling of the safehouse. The soft hum of the city outside the windows barely registered as his thoughts drifted to something unexpected: his upcoming birthday.

Six years old.

Except, well, not really. Technically, he was six, but in the body of someone much older—taller, broader, with the physique of someone who looked like he could bench-press a tank. It was a weird thing to reconcile. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be proud or just confused. He had a six-year-old's mind, memories of a boy who hadn't had a chance to really live a childhood, but the body of a seasoned warrior who'd survived too many battles.

But the thing that really stung about this birthday? It was the first one he'd ever get to actually celebrate. Sure, he'd been alive for more than six years, but his earliest memories were of that damn cupboard under the stairs—his so-called "room." Vernon and Petunia Dursley had never let him forget that he wasn't worth the air he breathed. On his birthday, when other kids got cake and presents, Harry had been stuck in the kitchen, working like a slave, while his fat cousin Dudley and his insufferable uncle gorged themselves, oblivious to his existence. And every year, they'd remind him just how little he deserved any of it.

"Freaks like you don't get birthdays," Uncle Vernon would growl, as if Harry was the one who'd ruined the day.

The thought of it made his jaw tighten. He remembered the smell of the burnt toast he'd made that one year, the slivers of cake he wasn't allowed to touch, the pile of chores that stretched into the night. The worst part? He didn't even know if his parents had celebrated his first birthday. It was one of those things that, in his younger years, he'd told himself was a dream—a fantasy to cling to. After all, how could they have celebrated when they'd been in a coma, unconscious, and then— gone?

There was no one around to make him feel special then. There was no warm hug from a mother or father. There was just the cold reality of his life with the Dursleys, always reminding him that he was nothing more than a burden.

But here, now... things were different.

He ran a hand over his face, brushing away the emotion that threatened to spill over. He didn't really know how to feel about it all. His mind still rebelled at the idea of someone celebrating him. And yet, when he thought about the upcoming birthday, something in his chest tightened in a way he couldn't explain. For the first time in his life, he would be given the chance to be a child. To be a normal kid.

His mom would be there, and dad too, and Sirius. Natasha, Andromeda, and the rest of the people who had come to mean something to him in the last year. He thought about Rose, too. She was a handful, but she was his sister. And even though she could be a brat sometimes, she was his brat. They would have a proper celebration. Gifts, laughter, maybe even a cake. For once, no one would be telling him to get back to work or making him feel like he didn't deserve it.

It was almost too much to believe.

Harry closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the thought wash over him. He didn't even know what to ask for. What do you get someone who's seen so much death, so much darkness, yet never got to be a kid? What did someone like him deserve on a day like that?

His fingers idly toyed with the edge of his shirt sleeve, thinking about the possibilities. Maybe something simple, something that reminded him that he was more than just a weapon. Maybe something that would let him remember what it felt like to be just Harry—the boy who deserved a birthday. The boy who didn't have to fight for survival on that one day of the year. The boy who had a family now—real, flawed, and caring.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Whatever it was, it would be his. Not some twisted version of it.

And that, he thought, was worth celebrating.

—

Natasha stepped quietly into the living room, the soft click of the door behind her barely disturbing the silence. She had been on edge all day—what with the constant second-guessing about Harry's gift, and trying to balance the strange, unsettling feeling of wanting to get it right with the ever-present ache in her chest that reminded her just how much she was still figuring out.

She paused at the threshold, taking in the sight of Harry sitting on the couch. He was deep in thought, his gaze fixed on some far-off point, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Natasha simply observed him—his posture relaxed but his eyes distant, like he was somewhere else entirely.

He looked... sad, though in that quiet, introspective way that Harry seemed to do so often. It wasn't the full, rage-fueled sadness she'd seen in battle or the frustration he sometimes expressed when his anger would slip loose. No, this was different. This was... quieter, more private.

It hit her a little harder than she expected. Harry—this six-year-old boy in an adult's body—had been through more than anyone should have to. He'd fought battles, saved worlds, carried the weight of things that no one his age should even know about. And yet, here he was, sitting on a couch in a safe house, in a place that, while far from home, had become his sanctuary. His birthday was coming up, and the thought that this might be the first one he ever really celebrated, it made Natasha's chest tighten.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Harry blinked and slowly turned to face her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he broke into a small, warm smile. "Oh, hey, Nat. Just... thinking."

"Thinking?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow as she moved further into the room. She leaned against the back of the chair opposite him, crossing her arms. "You've been thinking for a while. Something on your mind?"

Harry gave a half-shrug, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. "Just... my birthday," he admitted quietly. "It's... it's weird to think about, y'know? I mean, I've had a few, but it feels different this time. Like it might actually matter."

Natasha's heart ached at the words. She wasn't sure how to respond—she wanted to tell him it would be perfect, that it was his time now, and he could leave all that darkness behind, but she wasn't sure if he was ready to hear that yet.

Instead, she chose to sit down beside him, the weight of the moment pressing between them. "What makes this one different?" she asked, her voice low and careful.

Harry looked down at his hands for a moment, his fingers absently tracing the seams of his jeans. "I dunno. I guess... this is the first time I'll actually get to have one. Like, a real one. Not a day of work, or having to pretend I'm fine when everyone else is celebrating."

The words hit Natasha like a punch. She'd known about Harry's past, of course—knew that he'd lived through hell with the Dursleys. But hearing him say it so simply, with that mix of bitter resignation and quiet hope, made her realize just how deeply those years had shaped him.

"You know," she began, voice quieter now, "we're going to make sure it's the best one ever, right?" She shot him a sideways glance. "No more of that 'working all day' nonsense. You're not getting stuck doing anything, except... I don't know, maybe blowing out some candles and enjoying a few presents."

A soft chuckle escaped Harry, the sound more genuine than before, as if her words were exactly what he needed to hear. "That sounds nice," he said, his smile returning, albeit faint. "I guess it's just hard to imagine."

Natasha didn't push him to say more. Instead, she pulled her legs up underneath her, settling in a comfortable silence with him for a moment. She thought about the gift she'd hidden in her room—something she'd been obsessing over for days. She wasn't sure if it was the right choice. But then again, how do you pick the right thing for someone who had lost so much?

"I know it's hard to imagine," she finally said, her voice soft, "but sometimes... it's the things you least expect that make the biggest impact."

Harry turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Like... what?"

Natasha smiled faintly, her eyes distant for a moment before she refocused on him. "Like this birthday. A real one. A day just for you." She hesitated, then added, "And maybe, just maybe... a little bit of happiness."

Harry met her gaze, and for a split second, there was a flicker of something between them. Something unspoken, something tender that neither of them had expected. It was raw and real, just like the strange, chaotic bond they shared.

He nodded slowly, his expression softening. "Yeah... that sounds good." He looked away briefly, then met her gaze again. "Thanks, Nat."

She gave him a soft, knowing smile. "Anytime, Harry. Anytime."

For a moment, the two of them just sat there, the weight of the world outside seeming to fade away. Harry's birthday was coming, and whatever happened, he was going to have a chance to celebrate, for once in his life.

And that, Natasha thought, was worth everything.

—

Lily stood just outside the door, her hand resting lightly on the frame as she listened to the soft exchange between Harry and Natasha. She'd been walking through the hallway, on her way to check on something, when she heard their voices—Harry's quiet and thoughtful, Natasha's steady but tinged with something deeper. She had meant to just pass by, but something about the conversation had stopped her in her tracks.

The way Harry had said it—"I guess this is the first time I'll actually get to have one. Like a real one." That hurt. Lily had known his childhood had been a series of long, painful silences, punctuated by cruelty and neglect. But hearing him voice it so plainly made the ache in her chest grow deeper.

She felt a pang of guilt, sharp and sudden, like a wave crashing over her. Had she done enough for him? Was his sense of family and home as fractured as it seemed? All those years lost, those birthdays that had never been celebrated, never acknowledged, and how much that must have scarred him...

Her thoughts were interrupted by Natasha's voice, low but clear: "No more of that 'working all day' nonsense. You're not getting stuck doing anything, except... I don't know, maybe blowing out some candles and enjoying a few presents."

Lily's lips quirked into a small, private smile at that. Natasha, despite everything, had this way of showing up when it mattered most. And in that moment, Lily could hear the sincerity in her voice. Natasha might not have known how to show it, but she cared—she cared about Harry, perhaps in a way she herself hadn't fully realized until now.

Then came Harry's response, soft and hopeful, yet tinged with disbelief. "That sounds nice."

Lily's heart fluttered. He deserved nice. He deserved every ounce of that comfort and joy, a birthday that wasn't haunted by the specters of neglect and abuse.

She exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall, listening as Natasha spoke again, her tone reassuring. "Sometimes... it's the things you least expect that make the biggest impact. Like this birthday. A real one. A day just for you."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Lily was silent, her own thoughts swirling in a storm of emotions. It was more than just a birthday to Harry. It was the promise of something better. Something they all needed.

Lily knew this birthday was different—not just for Harry, but for all of them. It was a chance for healing, for real connection. For once, they could give him a piece of his childhood back. No fighting, no running, just celebration.

Her lips parted as she stepped forward, not wanting to eavesdrop any longer but knowing she couldn't let this moment pass without adding something to it.

She knocked gently on the doorframe before pushing it open slightly. Both Harry and Natasha turned toward her, the quiet understanding between them lingering in the air.

"Is everything alright in here?" Lily asked softly, her gaze flicking between them both. Her eyes lingered on Harry, a quiet affection in her expression.

Harry smiled, a little embarrassed but still earnest. "Yeah, just... talking." His voice was softer than usual, more vulnerable. "Natasha was helping me sort through some... stuff."

Lily nodded, stepping into the room with a small, knowing smile. "Good. I'm glad. You both deserve to be heard, Harry."

There was a beat of silence as Natasha met Lily's gaze, something unspoken passing between them. Then Natasha straightened and gave a small nod, as if giving her silent approval.

"Thanks for listening," Natasha said, her voice steady but warm. "I think we're all still getting used to this idea of... home."

Lily's heart swelled with something a little more than just pride. "We're getting there," she said gently, her words more of a reassurance to herself than anyone else. "One step at a time."

Harry looked up at her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a light in his eyes. "I think... I think I'm starting to believe that."

Lily moved closer, sitting beside him on the couch, her hand reaching for his. She gave his fingers a squeeze, feeling the warmth of his hand beneath hers. "You should, Harry. You're home. You've always had a place with us."

The weight of his past—of everything he'd endured—didn't vanish in an instant, and Lily knew that. But for this moment, in this room, there was peace. No more working on birthdays, no more trying to hide the scars of neglect. For Harry, for Rose, for all of them, this would be the beginning of something new.

The soft hum of New York City filtered in through the windows, a reminder of the world that lay outside, but in here, in this safehouse, it was just them—a family, imperfect but whole. And Lily knew that no matter what had happened before, no matter the struggles ahead, they would make this birthday one to remember.

And for Harry—who had never really had a birthday before—that was enough. It was everything.

---

Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!

I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!

If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!

Click the link below to join the conversation:

https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd

Can't wait to see you there!

If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:

https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007

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Thank you for your support!