Chapter 2: The Halls of Avalon
**July 31, 1980 – Godric's Hollow, The Potter Castle – Henry's Age: Newborn**
The journey from the small birthing room in Godric's Hollow to the ancestral seat of the Potter family was a short one, thanks to the Floo Network, but it felt monumental to the newborn Henry James Fleamont Charles George Arthur Eliseo Elisheva Ezekiel Solomon Apollonius Potter Peverell IX. Cradled in Lily's arms, swaddled in the same white blanket embroidered with the Potter crest, Henry's infant body was still adjusting to the world, but his mind was razor-sharp. He cataloged every sensation: the whoosh of green flames as they stepped through the Floo, the faint scent of ash mingling with Lily's lavender perfume, and James's steady hand on her shoulder, guiding them through the magical transit. It was still July 31, 1980, mere hours after his birth, and the day was far from over.
They emerged into a grand hall that took Henry's breath away—or would have, if his tiny lungs could fully appreciate the sight. The Potter Castle, hidden deep within the enchanted borders of Godric's Hollow, was a marvel of magical architecture, a testament to the family's ancient lineage as descendants of the Avalon dynasty. The hall soared upward, its domed ceiling a masterpiece of golden filigree and stained glass that shimmered with the light of a thousand stars, even in daylight. Pillars of white marble veined with gold lined the space, each carved with runes that pulsed faintly with protective magic—Peverell runes, Henry noted, recognizing them from his past life's research. The floor was a mosaic of sapphire and emerald tiles, depicting the rise of Avalon's first sovereigns, their crowns glowing with an otherworldly light.
At the far end of the hall, a grand staircase of polished stone descended in tiers, flanked by statues of griffins and phoenixes, their eyes glinting with enchanted sapphires. Waterfalls cascaded from unseen sources high above, their crystalline streams flowing down the sides of the staircase and pooling into a shimmering basin at the base, where the water glowed with a soft, ethereal luminescence. The castle seemed to float amidst the clouds, its upper towers piercing the heavens, surrounded by misty air that carried the scent of pine and wildflowers. Lush greenery clung to the stone, ivy and flowering vines weaving through the architecture as if nature and magic had forged the castle together in perfect harmony. It was a palace of dreams, a fortress of legend, and Henry knew instantly that this was no ordinary ancestral home—this was a seat of power, a remnant of the Avalon kings who had once ruled magical Britain.
Lily shifted him in her arms, her voice soft as she murmured, "Welcome home, Henry." James stood beside her, his hazel eyes bright with pride as he took in the familiar sight of the castle. "He'll grow up knowing every inch of this place," James said, his tone warm but tinged with a fierce protectiveness. "Our little prince deserves nothing less."
They descended the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing softly, and entered a smaller, more intimate chamber off the main hall. This room was cozier, though no less regal, with walls of polished oak and tapestries depicting the Potter family's history—scenes of spell-weaving, dragon-taming, and battles against dark forces. A massive hearth dominated one wall, its fire crackling with golden flames that cast a warm glow over the room. In the center stood a crib, carved from ebony and inlaid with silver runes that shimmered faintly with protective charms. It was here that Lily gently laid Henry down, tucking the blanket around him with a tenderness that made his tiny heart ache with a love he hadn't expected to feel so deeply.
Henry's green eyes, sharp and vivid even in infancy, darted around the room, taking in every detail. His messy black hair, already a wild mop atop his head, caught the firelight, and he squirmed slightly, testing the limits of his new body. He was still marveling at the castle's grandeur when two new figures entered the room, their voices a mix of excitement and reverence.
"James! Lily!" called a man, his voice deep and jovial. "Let's see the little heir, then!" Charles Potter, James's father, strode in, his presence commanding despite his warm smile. He was tall, with the same unruly black hair as James, though streaked with silver, and his hazel eyes crinkled with joy. Beside him was Dorea Black Potter, his wife, a striking woman with sharp cheekbones and piercing grey eyes that softened as they landed on the crib. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant bun, and she carried herself with the grace of her Black family heritage, tempered by the warmth of a grandmother's love.
Lily smiled, stepping forward to embrace them both. "Charles, Dorea, meet your grandson," she said, her voice brimming with pride. James joined her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he gestured to the crib. "This is Henry James Fleamont Charles George Arthur Eliseo Elisheva Ezekiel Solomon Apollonius Potter Peverell IX."
Charles let out a low whistle, his grin widening. "That's a name fit for a king! Fleamont will be over the moon you kept his name in the family. And Peverell—Merlin's beard, that's a legacy to carry." He leaned over the crib, his expression softening as he took in Henry's features. "Look at him, Dorea. He's got James's hair, no mistaking that, but those eyes—Lily's through and through."
Dorea nodded, her gaze tender as she reached out to brush a finger against Henry's tiny hand. "He's perfect," she murmured. "A true Potter, with a touch of something… more. I can feel it." Her words carried a weight Henry understood all too well—he was more, far more than they could imagine. But for now, he was content to let them see him as their grandson, their little prince, while he quietly planned the empire he'd build from this very castle.
Lily and James exchanged a glance, their pride evident, though a flicker of unease passed between them. They still hadn't told Charles and Dorea about Dumbledore's insistence on naming the child Harry, nor their quiet rebellion against it. For now, they kept that to themselves, letting the moment of joy stand unmarred. Lily, unaware of her own royal heritage—the Windsor blood that had been stolen from her at birth—focused entirely on her son, her heart full. James, too, was oblivious to the deeper secrets of their lineage, though he felt the weight of the Potter and Peverell names as keenly as ever.
As the fire crackled and the castle's ancient magic hummed around them, Henry lay in his crib, his green eyes gleaming with a wisdom far beyond his hours. The Potter Castle, with its towering spires and cascading waterfalls, its golden domes and rune-carved halls, was more than a home—it was a throne waiting for its king. And Henry, the reborn soul of Elias Kane, knew that this was only the beginning.
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Notes on the Chapter:
- **Date and Setting**: The chapter takes place on July 31, 1980, immediately after Henry's birth, as the family returns to the Potter Castle in Godric's Hollow. Henry is a newborn, mere hours old.
- **Castle Description**: The castle is described in vivid detail, inspired by the image—a majestic, ethereal structure with golden domes, marble pillars, cascading waterfalls, and a floating, cloud-wreathed presence that evokes the ancient Avalon dynasty. The description avoids mentioning the photo directly, as requested.
- **Grandparents**: Charles Potter and Dorea Black Potter are introduced with distinct personalities—Charles jovial and proud, Dorea graceful and perceptive—adding depth to the family dynamic.
- **Henry's Perspective**: His adult consciousness continues to shine through, noting the castle's significance and his family's reactions, while his infant body limits his actions.
- **Family Secrets**: Lily's unknown Windsor heritage is acknowledged but not revealed to the characters, maintaining the story's tension. The name conflict with Dumbledore is referenced subtly, keeping the focus on the family's joy.