Chapter 175: Maria Potter and the Butterfly's Dream ─ １
"Maria," a young voice calls me. Déjà vu. I feel like I was called by this voice a long time ago. It's faintly sweet, soft like freshly baked white bread. —It's your voice.
"Harry."
Opening my eyes, a pair of green eyes, brimming with light, were looking down at me.
"Maria...! Oh, thank goodness—did you hit anything? Does your head hurt?"
"Hmm, well... hey, Harry. ...How old are you again?"
"What's wrong, Maria? Aren't we five years old right now? —Is that what you want me to say?"
"You seem to be the Harry I know on the inside."
"I'm relieved you're the Maria I know, too."
I hold onto Harry's small, childish hand—so young it makes me anxious even thinking about letting him hold a wand. I sit up. At this age, your neck and lower back usually crack and pop when you wake up, but my body was far more supple than I remembered. As for my voice—perhaps I have no choice but to admit that I'm getting used to this kind of development.
We are outside. Dark trees grow thick around us like a maze, a sight that brings back bitter memories.
For instance, it's the place where you faced your archnemesis, where we were chased around by Acromantulas, where we were led astray by the Centaurs' prophecies—and where I exchanged my final farewell with you. A place deeply memorable for both Harry and Maria—the Forbidden Forest.
"Harry, you've shrunk. I'd say you look about the size of a first-year."
"If I've shrunk, then you've shrunk too, Maria. Probably about the same. Because you—"
Harry drops to one knee to match my sitting position. His black robes cover the ground. He wears a red tie at his neck. The way his tie is perfectly knotted, even though he's struggling just to get his fingers past the hem of his robes, is touching and brings a smile to my face, like watching a child trying to act grown-up.
Along with the robes, Harry's fingers brush against my red hair. —It has grown long enough to pass my shoulders. How nostalgic.
"You haven't let your hair grow this long since you cut it in our first year."
"I was surprised it tried to return to the same length while I was asleep. I wish someone had cut it for me."
"You weren't asleep. —You were dead."
Still touching my red hair, Harry rebuked me in a chilling voice completely unsuited for a child.
"Maria."
"I know. I fully understand that I hurt you—no, everyone who loved Maria. That's why I've been accepting your daily morning life-checks without a single complaint, haven't I?"
"Maria."
"I told you I know. —I'm alive."
I open my arms to welcome him, whose eyes are clouded with an anguish unsuited for his childlike face. As this child hugs me with all his might, I would normally scold him to remember the difference in physical strength between boys and girls if he were his usual self, but being in this child's form somehow makes me want to spoil him.
Within me, the Maria who was created as someone to love Harry—and by extension, myself—is no longer here, so I feel this sentiment is akin to what I would direct toward my yet-to-be-seen son, Albus. Though now, he is my nephew.
Well then, just how far has that child journeyed in search of Scorpius? Is the ocean of souls waiting for life truly that vast?
"Come on, Harry. If your life-check is done, we need to switch gears. We are us, but we aren't our original selves, and this doesn't seem to be the Hogwarts we know—"
"—Harry?"
In the sunlight filtering through the trees, she must have called his name in the exact same way. The thought suddenly crossed my mind. When I was sleeping in her womb, she had gently stroked her belly with those kind eyes and called out in a sing-song voice. My name.
"Is it Harry...?"
"Lily, what's wrong, all of a sudden... Harry, you said?"
With the small Hogwarts castle in the distance behind them, a man and a woman part the foliage and appear. Red hair exactly like Maria's. Untidy hair exactly like Harry's. Competitive hazel eyes exactly like Maria's. Round green eyes exactly like Harry's.
A young James Potter and Lily Evans stood there, clad in their Hogwarts robes.
"...What is the meaning of this?"
"Oh, Harry! It's Harry, isn't it? Oh, I never thought I'd see you again—I'm so happy!"
"Harry! I thought the next time I saw you, you'd be a baby! Come on, stand up—let me hug you again just like that day—and who are you?"
The eyes of the two, who had drawn close to a bewildered Harry, now turn to capture me. Hazel and green look at me, radiating a living brilliance. The true colors, which can't be conveyed through photographs, are right there. —The colors that were the proof of our existence are alive.
"Don't tell me, you're also...? But, Harry, you... you never mentioned having a sibling, did you?"
"James, look closely. This Harry is much smaller than the Harry we met. ...I think this might not be the same Harry we spent a little bit of time with here at Hogwarts."
"But, Lily... then who—?"
"James... and Lily...?"
Harry called out to them, his voice trembling. Savoring their names, he timidly looked up at the man and woman who had taken his hands. Ah, I understand completely. I know all too well how much of a soul-shaking miracle it is to meet those who are no longer here—and just how terrifying it is.
"That's right, I'm James Potter. Your father... at least, I believe I am."
"And I'm Lily Evans. Your mother. ...Will you call me that? My sweet Harry."
My parents' eyes smile at me. Harry calls my name. That's why, in front of the people I love, I stood up once again as Maria.
"It's nice to meet you. —Dad, Mom."
Holding Harry's hand, I narrow my eyes at him, silently telling him, who is lost for words, to leave it to me. It's alright, this time for sure—this time, it's my turn to be the guide. After all, I am your 'Maria.'
"I am Maria Potter, and this is Harry Potter. We are your—son and daughter."
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