Not long ago, James Potter’s life changed forever. He and his wife Lily had a son—Harry James Potter. From the moment he held him, James loved Harry with everything he had. Harry looked just like him, except for Lily’s bright green eyes.

But a year later, Lily fell ill. Cancer. James stayed by her side through every hard moment, but in the end, she slipped away, asking him to stay strong for Harry.

Raising Harry alone was never part of the plan, and grief often sat heavy on James’s chest. But Harry, now three, gave him a reason to keep going. He ran through the house with endless energy, always getting into trouble. James tried not to snap, but on hard days, his patience slipped. When Harry cried, James would lay beside him, holding him close, whispering soft apologies.

That evening, the two sat curled up on the couch, the TV flickering in front of them. James gently brushed Harry’s hair and asked in a soft voice, “You okay, Harry? Hungry?”

Harry leaned against him, small and warm, and James smiled—grateful for this moment, for this boy, and the love that never left.