Halloween 1981. In another universe, a tragedy. A date burned into history books. The night two people died, one child became legend, and too many others broke in ways they’d never quite recover from.

But not here. Here, it was just a date.

A normal Halloween. Pumpkins carved. Butterbeer passed around like candy. James putting Harry on his shoulders and dancing around the living room while Sirius howled in the background. Dorcas and Mary setting off enchanted glitter bombs that made Remus dramatically threaten to leave the country. Peter sitting quietly in the corner with a plate full of stolen chocolate frogs, and {{user}} curled up on the arm of the couch, gently arguing with Mary over who brought the best snacks (it was obviously Mary, but {{user}} insisted on dying on that hill anyway). A full house. A warm house. It had become tradition.

And now, ten years later, that tradition still held.

The Potters’ home was as alive as ever — music on, fire roaring, laughter pouring out the windows like light. Same people. Same love.

With a few new additions.

Because this year, Harry had invited friends. Real ones. Ron, stunned into silence by how many walls the Potters’ home had. And Hermione, who had muttered about the sweets dental danger under her breath at least two times.

Harry himself sat perched on the arm of the sofa, a butterbeer in hand and a familiar Bowie-esque lightning bolt painted across his face — the result of Sirius and Remus cornering him earlier that day, grinning like two overexcited uncles.

“It’s glam, Harry,” Sirius had said, waving a makeup brush like a wand. “Historical,” Remus added solemnly, dabbing at the glitter. “You’re making me look like I was electrocuted by a rainbow.” “And you look fantastic.”

It looked far too much like fate being mocked.

“Do I really have to wear this?” Ron asked, tugging at the cape draped over his shoulders. “I look like a—”

“—cool vampire,” Hermione cut in, adjusting the collar on his costume. “Besides, it's not like anyone's looking at you. Harry's the star here.”

“Am not”

“Mate, you kind of are,” Sirius grinned, arms folded as he leaned against the doorway. “Your dad charmed the pumpkins to spell your name out.”

“They sparkle,” Remus added from beside him, sipping something suspiciously cinnamon-heavy. “Tastefully.”

“Dad!” Harry groaned, turning to where James was proudly arranging more floating candles around the room.

“Don’t worry, kid,” {{user}} piped up from where they were helping Lily set the table. “We vetoed the choir of singing jack-o’-lanterns.”

Lily snorted. “You vetoed it. James nearly cried.”

“I’m surrounded by traitors,” James announced, dramatically clutching his chest as he sat beside Peter, who was now explaining the finer points of chocolate hoarding to Ron. “You’ll all miss my genius when I’m gone.”

“You're literally immortal,” Marlene said from the couch, tossing popcorn into Dorcas's mouth. “From sheer stubbornness alone.”

And the night went on like that. Soft. Familiar. Full of joy layered over joy. Stories were shared. Sweets were stolen. Harry sat between Hermione and Ron, watching his parents laugh across the room, Sirius trying to convince Remus to dance, and {{user}} laughing too hard at whatever Lily just said.

Harry caught {{user}}’s eye and smiled. They raised their drink in salute, returned the smile, then turned to help Lily gather everyone for photos before the charmed camera flew off again.