When the wizards thought back on that fateful night, few understood how little they truly knew about the events that had transpired.

All they knew was that through some kind of miracle the entire Potter-family had survived and that the Dark Lord had been defeated. The only things that had been left of the fearsome wizard were his black robes, a charred wand and a pile of ash. Not even the Potters themselves knew why they were still alive, only that they were incredibly grateful to be so.

And as the great wizard Dumbledore hoisted an young Alexander into the air, proclaiming him the Boy-Who-Lived, the family of four knew that their time as a normal family was pretty much over. They hadn't planned on this but Albus had brushed off their concerns over announcing Alexander's amazing victory over Voldemort all over the wizard-world.

The long war was over, the people deserved to know the one who had brought it to an end.

The cheers echoed through the streets as the Second Wizarding War came to a close and alcohol of all sorts were being passed around to both toast the victories and commemorate those that never got the chance to see this day come.

And throughout all of this, a young black-haired boy saw his brother being lifted high and didn't understand why. He tried to get the attention of his mother only to be subconsciously held closer to her chest, almost as if she was afraid that he was going to disappear if she loosened her grip.

Something told this child that things were going to be different from now on, that their quiet life together was no more.

He put his arms around her neck and softly fell asleep to the rhythmic beating of his mother's heart as Lily gently stroked the head of her second son. For now everything was alright and he was going to enjoy this peace while it lasted, unknowingly echoing the thoughts of both of his parents.

Tough times was ahead of them but they would overcome them.

As a family.

-line-

The times that followed were not always easy for the Potters.

More than once, Lily and James had cursed out Dumbledore for spreading the truth around Voldemort's to everyone in Magical Britain. And themselves just as much for the fact that they allowed him to do it.

They needed to recover from the horrible attack from Voldemort, getting thrust into the spotlight as celebrities was the last thing they needed.

Alas, the damage had already been done and they would have to adapt.

Though they would be lying if they said that there wasn't a lot of grievances.

Some people went to ridiculous lengths in order to meet Alexander. Every letter had to be screened and every gift had to be examined thoroughly before they were allowed to come anywhere the famous child. Their house was constantly flooded by reporters and rabid fans alike, the family could barely walk outside without being surrounded.

It went so far that any grocery-shopping had to be taken care of by Lily in the muggle-world.

In fact, Alexander's fame was becoming a bigger chore that they had anticipated.

Not only because of the potential risk of their son developing a big head due to everyone heaping praise and adoration onto him, but also due to the fact that it made it very difficult to weed out the people they could trust from those that were just trying to use them.

Thankfully James, having once been a spoiled child before, had promised himself that he would never let his kids make the same mistakes that he had so the first problem was mostly taken care of. It was off course difficult but they took small steps at a time.

Even if the rest of the world treated him like a Messiah, at home he was going to be a normal boy and no amount of whining was going to change their minds.

The second problem was much harder.

They had no idea what Dumbledore had been telling people but now it felt like every person under the sun was trying to have a say in their lives. Even people that they had known for years like the Weasleys and especially so Dumbledore himself.

More than one argument had broken out over the way James and Lily were taking care of their children.

In many people's eyes, Alexander's great victory over Voldemort gave him the right to have anything that he asked for. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and that was the only justification they felt was needed for all the gifts and adoration.

People constantly questioned Lily's decision to treat Alexander like a normal boy, acting as if they knew her son better than his own mother did.

More than one time, James had been forced to step in before things got violent. Lily's temper, in spite of it having been cooled slightly since their Hogwarts-days, was still not something pretty to behold.

Not to say that he did not agree with his wife, he just knew that these people could easily use her temper to strengthen their argument.

Dumbledore was constantly trying to extend his influence over the innocent Alexander, he visited quite often and always spent the time trying to teach Alexander a little bit of everything when it came to magic and philosophies. James and Lily had caught him trying to speak in their child's name more than once, often with the intention of trying to further his own agenda. The bridge of friendship between the couple and the aging wizard was crumbling brick by brick and Dumbledore either didn't notice or didn't care.

So in the midst of all of this chaos, perhaps it was not surprising that little Harry got lost in the scuffle.

His quiet nature and lack of interest in the things that children typically were (James had been slightly depressed when he had learned that Quidditch was one of them) was not helping either, especially in contrast to the vibrant and loud personality of his brother.

While his brother was in constant motion and seemingly had an unlimited supply of energy, pulling pranks and getting into trouble with reckless abandon, Harry preferred to sit down and either read books or draw pictures of either objects around him or odd images that plopped into his head. He was very polite and tried his best to please the people around him, even if it did hurt when said people never even spared him a glance.

The library was his favorite place in the house, or it used to be at any rate, due to the fact that the supply of knowledge within it seemed to be neverending. Off course, he didn't have access to all of it but the books that he was allowed to read was more than enough for a young boy like him.

And on top of that, it was a place where he could forget how empty his life had become.

Harry realized quickly that everyone that came to the Manor was only interested in seeing Alexander and as such he stopped to care about the people around him. Even his own godfather, Sirius Black, seemed to forget about him at times.

Deep down, Harry knew that his parents were trying incredibly hard to not forget him. But the soft voice of a young child is so easily drowned in the sea of people that had become a constant part of their lives. People who were shouting on top of one another (in some cases literally) in order to make sure that their voice was heard.

It didn't stop his pain though, even if it did soften it by a somewhat significant margin.

He couldn't find it in himself to hate his parents when he saw the pain and guilt in their eyes whenever they accidentally forgot him again. They hated themselves enough as it was.

A different child would have probably had a stronger reaction to the fact that they were invisible to their own family, but Harry viewed these truths with great apathy.

Crying or screaming wasn't going to solve anything.

Besides, there were many other things that were much more interesting (though maybe not as funny) than watching stuffy grown-ups become piles of goo at the slightest shift in facial-expression from his brother.

Like that strange room that he had discovered a while back...

-line-

Harry has been roughly seven years old when he had first found the room during one of his regular explorations of the manor.

The Potter Manor was gigantic and while James and Alexander spent their free time either on The Quidditch-pitch or scheming to continue the Marauder-legacy (something that often gave his mother gray hairs), Harry spent his days exploring and discovering all sorts of neat things about the house.

When his parents had discovered this particular passion of his, they assigned the house-elves to keep an eye on him so that he wouldn't accidentally get hurt or lost. James had even taken an initiative to get Harry a diary where he could note his findings, even if the older Potter probably knew everything about anything that was to be found. It didn't matter to James, all he knew was that he had found some kind of common ground with his other son and he had enthusiastically shown Harry some of the hidden features of the Potter Manor.

In many ways, it was kind of assuring that for as much as his parents tended to forget that he existed they at least cared about him at some level.

Those early explorations with his father were some of his happiest memories and even though he wasn't able to be there a lot nowadays, he at least tried to ask about his day and what he had found during dinner.

But back on topic.

Harry has been exploring one of the corridors when a strange noise had alerted him to a door that as far as Harry knew led to a room that was only used for storage.

Curious, he turned the knob and opened the door.

The room that was laid out before him was unlike anything that the young boy had ever seen throughout his expeditions of the house. Not necessarily in appearance, but the room generated a strange atmosphere that drew the curious child further and further into it.

It was a study of some kind, it looked similar enough to his father's that Harry felt reasonably confident in that assessment.

Various documents on top of a mahogany-desk in a corner of the room seemed to suggest that the previous inhabitants of the room had been a mind-healer of some kind, a lot of those papers talked about the subconscious and especially so the importance of memories.

The jars filled with what looked like human remains (he was reasonably certain that he saw a brain in one of them) only served to reinforce this hypothesis.

A bit odd and slightly unnerving to be sure, but it didn't shake Harry's resolve to uncover the room's secrets.

One of the things that had first caught Harry's attention when he had stepped into the room was strangely enough the tapestry. The moth-pattern on the walls was almost hypnotic and the deep green hues only enhanced this effect. If he squinted hard enough, it almost looked like the walls were literally watching him.

The second was the large painting on the right wall

It was a strange painting that depicted an even stranger motif. Yet it seemed to speak to Harry on a level that he didn't fully understand.

It depicted two figures sitting in two armchairs that were facing each other with a table in the middle.

On the left was a shadowy figure with white eyes.

And on the right was a man with the head of a crow.

Two items were lying on top of the table. A lit candle in a holder and a glass-vial that had been tipped over, its content spilling onto the floor.

For some reason, Harry's eyes kept coming back to the bird-man in particular. For some reason, it felt like the crow was observing him...

The cluttering noise that had led Harry to the room suddenly rang out again, causing Harry to snap out of his trance. He looked around for the source and spotted a large object covered by a red curtain. Harry carefully lifted the fabric and became delighted by what he saw.

The object underneath the curtain turned out to be a birdcage and with it was a grey parrot that chirped at him in an endearing manner.

Harry was used to living around birds, owls came in every day after all, but he had never seen a parrot so up close before. They were not common in this part of the wizard-word so it was an unexpected surprise. Though he had to wonder how he had never seen it before...

A buzzing suddenly drew Harry's attention away from the bird and onto the television next to him that had somehow turned on by itself. Harry cautiously walked closer and the image on the screen showed the kitchen downstairs.

Dinner was almost ready and it was one of the few things that he actually looked forward to each day. It was the one time when he truly felt like he was a part of this family so he really didn't want to miss it.

As he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, absentmindedly responding to his parents calling him down for dinner, Harry pondered if he should tell his family about the room. If only so that the parrot wouldn't go hungry.

Once he reached the stairs, Harry had made up his mind.

He had often wanted to find a place to call his own and the room was an unsolved mystery that Harry wanted to figure out by himself. He would find ways to feed the parrot, by himself if it even needed to. It looked like it had been there for years so maybe the house-elves fed it, he would have to ask them later.

For now, that room was his little secret...