The presumably orphaned infant you cradled in your arms, peacefully lapped up at your large breast – not at all caring that there wasn't any milk that would pour out.

Nestled in the comforts of James' lap was where you laid, curious as he peaked over your shoulder to view the baby boy that possessed an awful scar burn on his forehead.

You both assumed the baby to be a muggle as he had been thrown at you by a woman that rushed off in a muggle town you were visiting.