Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to J.K. Rowling and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hello, everyone! I hope you are all doing well – I certainly am, because not being able to go outside has given me a lot of free time, which has allowed me to get back into writing and post not one, but two stories! The first one has already been posted (it's a Percy Jackson fanfiction), which means that this one is the second of the two.

Like the first one, this story has been bouncing around in my head for quite a while. Definitely not as long as that one (I had that idea in 2013-2014, while this one came to me in 2016-2017), but still. A while. Which means that I've gotten most of the kinks of this story already smoothed out, and I know pretty much everything that's going to happen and when it's going to happen.

That is pretty much where the similarities between these two stories end, however. Because while the first one is pretty upbeat, this is story is going to get...angsty. Like, really angsty. A lot of the characters in this story are going to be put into situations that they are too young to really understand the full extent of, and it's going to suck for them. Majorly. Likewise, because of this, other characters are going to...I don't want to say suffer, but react in a certain way. However, that being said, no characters will be bashed in this story. If they act a certain way, it's because I think it's in their character to act that way, not because I want to incessantly hate on them or anything like that.

Other warnings you should probably know about this story before you read: there will be genderbending (but only of one character), pregnancy, and non-explicit content involving minors (because I refuse to write out smut scenes for this story). Luna will also be an aura reader in this story (not a seer – they're different), for reasons that will be explained later. If you don't like any of this, then you should probably stop reading now because you're most likely not going to like the rest of the story.

That being said, for those of you that are still here, I hope you enjoy this story! Next update will be on Thursday, as I'm trying to get a Tuesday-Thursday updating schedule for this story...for now, anyways. If the schedule changes, then I'll let you know.

See you on Thursday,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~The Chronicles of Mabon~

~Harry Potter & the Secret of Life~

~Prologue~

Wednesday, 2 September 1981

Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

James Charlus Potter had never felt as hopeless in his entire twenty-one years of life as he did now.

Staring down at the book that was laid out in front of him, James let out a sigh as he looked at the fine, black calligraphy that the book had been written in. The ink was just a tad bit faded and the pages were yellow with age, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that the book was yet another book that had proved useless and hadn't given him an answer to the question that he so desperately needed answered.

Next to him, James's wife, Lily, barely even looked up from her own book as she asked, "No luck?"

"No," he replied with another sigh. "This book is useless. All it contains is some old rituals for fertility."

"Then put it in the pile," was all that she said in response.

Momentarily, his eyes flickered over to the fore-mentioned pile that was sitting at the end of their mahogany table, just in front of the window. It was sunny outside, he realized as he looked past the dozens and dozens of old and ancient books. Not a cloud was in the bright blue sky, and a gentle breeze blew past the trees outside, revealing that the day was most likely just as beautiful as it looked.

The thought only made him feel more hopeless.

"Lily," James said after a few moments. "How many books from the manor do we have left?"

It was her turn to sigh, albeit her sigh was much more irritated than his was. "Still a few dozen. Why, James?"

"And how many of them are in languages we can't read?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"...Most of them," she replied, before she looked up at him with a glare. "Why, James? What's your point?"

"I don't have a 'point'."

"Yes, you do. I know you, James. You wouldn't be talking about this unless you wanted to prove something. So, what is it? Tell me."

"I'm just...afraid," he admitted finally. "I'm afraid that we're wasting all of the small bits of free time that we get pouring over these books for nothing. I'm afraid that there's nothing in these books and by the time that we realize it it'll be too late to do anything else. And I'm afraid..."

...I'm afraid that Voldemort will find us and kill you and Harry and I won't be able to do anything about it because I'll already be dead.

Because that was why he felt so hopeless, wasn't it? For months – years, now, he reminded himself. Years. – he'd been listening to the wireless radio, listening to the radio hosts go on and on about the people that had died because Voldemort had thought that they may have known the secret to where his family was. Friends like Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, and Benjy Fenwick...all gone. All dead.

And all because of that damned prophecy.

It was only a matter of time until Voldemort found them, he knew, Fidelity's Charm or not. It was only a matter of time until Voldemort realized that Sirius had been their Secret Keeper all along and tortured him for it. Killed him for it. And James knew that as soon as his brother in all but blood was dead, Voldemort would come after them, next.

And he was afraid that that would happen well before they found a way to save Harry's life.

Lily's glare softened into a gaze upon hearing his words. "James," she said as she got up, her book now forgotten. "That won't happen. We'll find an answer before then. Somehow. Someway. Maybe I could convince Sirius to get me some of my old Ancient Runes books the next time that he visits...maybe I could find something in them that might help us..."

"But what if we can't?" James snapped as he got to his feet, causing Lily to flinch. "What if nothing we find can give us an answer, Lily? I...I couldn't bear it if something happened to you or Harry, Lils. If both of you died and I didn't, I'd follow you shortly after."

"Don't talk like that," she whispered with wide, emerald green eyes.

"Well, how else am I supposed to talk about it? There's no one else to talk to it about! Sirius can only come around here every two weeks, and when he does, he doesn't want to hear it either! It's like both of you don't want to face the fact that You-Know-Who's going to kill us eventually, no matter what we do! And I can't stand it! I just can't!"

Suddenly, a crying noise came from the center of the table, where the baby monitor was. Both of them turned towards it, and Lily opened her mouth to say something, but James cut her off with an, "I'll get it."

Then, with his hands in his pockets, he walked out of the dining room and into the hallway, then up the stairs and into their son's nursery.

Inside, Harry was in his crib, wailing as he usually did when he woke up from one of his naps. When he saw his father, though, the one-and-a-half-year-old stood up and, with arms outstretched, said, "Da! Da!"

Even though he was the feeling the way that he did, James couldn't help but smile as he walked over to his son and replied, "Did you have a nice nap, Har?"

The boy scrunched his nose up in response, because he hated the word 'nap' with a burning passion that his father had never seen replicated anywhere else. "No!" he wailed. "No nap, Da! Out! Out!"

"Yes, yes, I know, I know. You want out," James grumbled as he scooped Harry out of the crib. "Way to make your father feel loved."

Harry perked up. "Mummy?" he asked in a bright voice. "Where Mummy?"

James snorted. "Okay, now I know that you're screwing with me. But that's okay. You want Mummy, then I'll take you to Mummy."

"Mummy!" Harry squealed as he clapped his hands.

James began to turn around from the crib, Harry still in his arms, when something in the nursery's front window caught his eye. Frowning, he turned to look at it, much to his son's displeasure, because the boy began to twist and turn and babble.

But James couldn't focus on that, because what he saw outside made his heart stop and his blood turn cold.

Because outside, there was a figure in a grey cloak standing right out front their house. That in of itself was unusual, as due to the Fidelius Charm, people would have a sudden desire to walk away from the house – which they couldn't even see, and in fact forgot even existed – if they stood in front of it for too long. Furthermore, the way that the figure was also distressing, because it was seemingly facing the house, almost as if...

...Almost as if...

...Almost as if it was looking right at them.

"James?" Lily called from down the stairs. "James, what's taking so long?"

When he didn't immediately reply, she walked up the stairs and made her way into the nursery. "Is Harry being troublesome again?" she asked, oblivious to the sheer terror that was running through his veins. "Because if he is, I can – James? What are you doing?"

"Mummy!" Harry cried.

"James –"

"Someone's watching us," James said, before his wife could finish her sentence. "Someone's outside and they're looking at us through the wards."

Lily was at his side in an instant, looking down at the figure like he was. Her face turned to the color of bone. "But that's impossible," she whispered. "No one can see through – "

"Mummy!" Harry cried again.

At his crying, James looked down at his son, then back at the figure outside. He knew what he had to do. "Lily," he said. "Take Harry and go find the mirror. See if you can call Sirius and ask him if he told anyone else about this place. If you can't get ahold of him immediately, then I want you to go into the panic room and stay there until either I come to get you or – or – "

"James!" she protested.

"Just do it!" he snapped.

Without another word, Lily grabbed Harry – who was blissfully unaware of what was going on and was quite happy to be in the arms of his mother – and walked out of the room. James stared after them for a few moments, before he reached down into his jeans' pocket – front, not back, like Moody had taught him – and took out his mahogany wand.

Outside, it truly was a nice day out. The temperature was just right, and the gentle breeze was blissfully cool. But James didn't focus on that. He couldn't. Instead, he focused on the figure, who still hadn't moved from the place that it originally was. "Who are you?" he shouted as he walked up towards it with his wand raised, only stopping when he was about six feet away. "And how can you see through the wards?"

The figure did not reply. In fact, it didn't even move.

"Answer me!" James shouted again. "Because if you don't, I swear, I'll – "

"Do nothing," the figure interjected, with a deep, masculine voice. "You'll do nothing."

James found himself faltering at the figure's words, and not just because the figure sounded so certain, so believing that he wouldn't do anything. No, he also found himself faltering because, somehow, the figure's voice seemed familiar. Like he had heard it somewhere else before...like in a dream, perhaps. Nevertheless, with as much force that he could muster, he said, "And why would I do that? Why would I not do anything against someone who I don't know and yet can somehow see through the wards protecting me? My family?"

The figure moved. Slowly, it reached up and grabbed at the hood covering its face, and pulled down, revealing the face of a man who looked to be around fifty years old. But, for some reason, James thought that he was far more older than he looked. Maybe it was because that the man had a calm expression that he had only ever seen Albus Dumbledore wear. Maybe it was because his short, brown hair and beard had several grey streaks in it, which was a sight uncommon – or, at least, it had been, before the war and bloodshed and carnage and death – in wizardkind. Or perhaps it was because the man's grey eyes looked like they had seen far more things than any fifty-year-old ever could.

Despite himself, James found himself lowering his wand as he took in the man's appearance. "Who are you?" he asked again, his voice much more weaker this time. "And what do you want from me and my family?"

"Who I am does not matter," the man replied. "As for what I want...I do not want anything from you. I want for you. Because I know what you and your wife want, James Charlus Potter; what the two of you have so desperately searched for over the past two years: a way for your son to survive the Killing Curse."

Unbeknownst to himself, James sunk to his knees in shock as he stared at the man. "How did you know?" he whispered. "How – how could you know?"

The man smiled grimly in response. "I have my ways of knowing," he said. "But once again, that does not matter. All that matters is that I know the answer to what you seek, Mr. Potter. I know of a way for your son to not only survive the Killing Curse, but to survive anything that the Dark Lord tries to do to him as well. And I am willing to help you achieve this, even if..."

"Even if what?" James asked, his tone desperate.

"...Even if the cost for your son surviving the Killing Curse is both terrible and great."

Word Count: 2,030 (This is probably the smallest chapter you will ever see from me, both for this story and other ones. But it was necessary. You'll see why...)

Next Chapter Title: Faulty Magic