Chapter Text
The vision flipped and James shuddered. It was dark and they were standing in forbidden forest.
Oh brilliant forbidden forest I just love it James said his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Harry was walking with Malfoy. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.
Of all people, Malfoy? Great, he looks like he's seen a ghost. James noted watching him jump at every shadow.
“Look —” Harry murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.
What is that? A unicorn? Holy! James said.
Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.
Don't go near it. Dad! James said frantically.
Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood.
You never listen, Dad. Well technically you can't hear me but still don't go any further.
A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. . . . Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animals side, and began to drink its blood.
What the absolute fuck is that? James panicked. Oh I swore, thank Merlin dad can't hear.
“AAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted — so did Fang.
Very nice, Mr Malfoy, screaming like a banshee and leaving my Dad behind. James said dryly.
The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry — unicorn blood was dribbling down its front.
What are you doing dad? Malfoy bolted Why are you standing here? Move. Run. Go! James screamed.
It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry — he couldn’t move for fear.
James' blood went cold. No no no stay away from him, don't come any closer .
Then a pain like he’d never felt before pierced Harry's head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward.
Oww bloody hell! another scar migraine. James groaned.
He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure.
“Are you all right?” said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.
Define alright damn it! We just saw a freak drinking unicorn blood and barely survived a scar migraine. James exploded.
The vision flipped. Harry was now entering a dark room.
What are you upto now dad? James groaned. Can't you sit still for five minutes.
An image of his father back home flashed through James mind. Standing by the fireplace, arms folded. James couldn't help but mimicked him
“James don't go roaming around Hogwarts at night. Rules are there for your safety."
And what on earth are you doing? James mentally threw his hands up. You haven't spent a single night in your dormitory. You are roaming in the corridors, dodging Filch, breaking at least five school rules before midnight.
A victorious smug satisfaction bloomed inside him. Oh next time you try to ground me, Dad, I'm going to throw each and every one of these memories in your face.
There was already someone there — but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even Voldemort. It was Quirrell.
“You!” gasped Harry.
Quirrell smiled. His face wasn’t twitching at all.
“Me,” he said calmly. “I wondered whether I’d be meeting you here, Potter.”
James felt Harry's brain short circuit. Every theory, every wild assumption Harry had built up over the last nine months about Snape trying to steal the Stone was wrong.
I have a really really bad feeling about this. James muttered nervously.
“But I thought — Snape —”
“Severus?” Quirrell laughed, and it wasn’t his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. “Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn’t he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?”
James laughed out loud. Overgrown bat?
Harry couldn’t take it in. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t.
James felt Harry heart pounding everything he believed was wrong.
It was not your fault, Dad, the stuttering guy was extremely clever.
“But Snape tried to kill me!”
“No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you."
Inside Harry's mind the pieces finally clicked together. James caught on at the same time.
Wait, so aunt Hermione setting Snape on fire actually saved your life? When Quirrell was trying to kill you at the Quidditch match. Unbelievable.
James was shocked at the absurdity of the situation. And then his shock turned into horror.
Seriously Dad! Why does everyone in this school want to kill you? First, that hooded freak, now him?
“Snape was trying to save me?”
“Of course,” said Quirrell coolly. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny, really . . . he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching."
Strange that you thought Snape was the villain. James chuckled. It's absolutely wild seeing you hate him this much.
Reason number one why Albus got his middle name. Huh.
Wait until I tell Al, Dad named you after the guy he thought was going to kill him in his first year.James grinned mentally.
“You’re too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.”
Wow what kind of Hogwarts this was back in the day where teachers actively tried to murder eleven year olds just because they were nosy.
And then there's Snape who comes with a whole plot twist. Dad, I swear your life can be a Muggle movie. James thought.
"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.” It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised. “This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured.
All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror. He started asking questions.
“My master is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was."
James felt Harry's panic that Voldemort might be in the room.
Relax dad, I'm with you. Although I have no idea what a teenager stuck in your head can do against Voldemort. But still I'm here, Dad, You're not alone.
"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”
And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.
“Use the boy . . . Use the boy . . .”
That voice is coming from him. That means Voldemort is with him or inside him.No no no. James' blood went cold like Harry's. Don't look, don't get closer.
Quirrell rounded on Harry.
“Yes — Potter — come here.”
He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off.
Harry got slowly to his feet.
“Come here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”
Harry walked toward him.
I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that’s all.
Brilliant Idea, Dad, whatever you see don't tell him. Make up something completely ridiculous. James backed him up silently.
Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell’s turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.
Eww. Bloody hell what is that smell? He hasn't washed his hair since September. Yuck! James gagged internally.
He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow — incredibly — he’d gotten the Stone.
James nearly screamed inside Harry's mind. No way you actually have it in your pocket.
Now lie, Dad, lie like your life depends on it. James said frantically.
“Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?”
Harry screwed up his courage.
“I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he invented. “I — I’ve won the House Cup for Gryffindor.”
Brilliant, Dad, very good. But then James panicked. Oh no! The stone is literally in his pocket. If the smelly one realizes it's in his pocket he's going to murder him.
“He lies . . . He lies . . .”
“Let me speak to him . . . face-to-face. . . .”
“Master, you are not strong enough!”
“I have strength enough . . . for this. . . .”
James felt Harry freeze. His body wouldn't move.
No no what is he going to do. Move Dad run! save your life.
Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell’s head looked strangely small without it.
Then he turned slowly on the spot.
Where there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.
James screamed inside his father's head but no sound came out. HOLY MOTHER OF NOSELESS CREATURES! WHAT IS THAT?
How come dad didn't scream? That's…that's Voldemort? Merlin's beard he's absolutely hideous.
“Harry Potter . . .” it whispered.
Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn’t move.
“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapor . . . I have form only when I can share another’s body . . . but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. . . . Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks . . . you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest . . . and once I have the Elixir I will be able to create a body of my own. . . . Now . . . I will be able to create a why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”
Create a body? He's still not done with you, Dad. Come on run. Get to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, anyone. But please don't just freeze.
Come on Dad, Move! James screamed.
But no matter how much he shouted in Harry's head, nothing happened. He was just a ghost riding along in a memory. James could only watch through his father's eyes in absolute agony, completely powerless to save him as Harry faced the Dark Lord who ruined his life.
Voldemort continued.
“Don’t be a fool,” snarled the face. . . or you’ll meet the same end as your parents. . . . They died begging me for mercy. . . .”
“LIAR!” Harry shouted suddenly.
“How touching . . .” it hissed. “Yes, boy, your parents were brave. . . . I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight . . . but your mother needn’t have died . . . she was trying to protect you. . . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.”
That's right, Dad, James raged mentally He's trying to break you dad, don't listen to the noseless beast.
Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed “SEIZE HIM!” and the next second, Harry’s scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened.
James felt the pain in the scar and burning spreading through Harry's head. Oof! It's too much.
“Seize him! SEIZE HIM!”
Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!”
Serve you bloody right. James cheered even though the pain was overwhelming for him. Wait… what? Why can't he touch dad?
You can do this, Dad, burn him all the way, make him ash. James shouted through the pain.
Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face —
“AAAARGH!” Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off.
Inside Harry's mind the blinding, agonizing pain erupted and tore straight through James. He couldn't hold it any longer. He screamed at the top of his lungs. His scream echoed in the dark depths of Harry's mind.
The pain in Harry’s head was building — he couldn’t see — he could only hear Quirrell’s terrible shrieks and Voldemort’s yells of, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” and other voices, maybe in Harry’s own head, crying, “Harry! Harry!”
He felt Quirrell’s arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down . . . down . . . down . . .
Dad, hold on hold on, you can do this! James said frantically.
Please dad be okay. don't die James shouted as darkness fell and he couldn't see anymore.
James felt the familiar flip and now he was sitting in the great hall. It seemed it was the end of the term and house points were being awarded.
He survived! Thank goodness. I thought you died back there.James let out a breathless laugh.
James watched as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville helped Gryffindor win the house cup.
It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls . . . he would never, ever forget tonight.
James beamed at Harry's happiness.
Well done dad! James grinned. Honestly, for your first year that was not bad”
"You must come and stay this summer,” said Ron, “both of you — I’ll send you an owl.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, “I’ll need something to look forward to.”
James felt warmth spreading through Harry's body. For the first time he had a friend.
Yeah. James thought, feeling his father's relief washing them both. You really do, Dad.
“Bye, Harry!”
“See you, Potter!”
“Still famous,” said Ron, grinning at him.
“Not where I’m going, I promise you,” said Harry.
James felt the weight of those words. The loneliness. The Dursleys. Everything waiting for him that he dreaded.
Go! Give them hell, Dad, show them who they're dealing with.
“There he is, Mom, there he is, look!”
It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t pointing at Ron.
“Harry Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mom! I can see —”
“Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s rude to point.”
Inside Harry's head James doubled over laughing at Ginny. Fangirling over dad. She's his one true fan. Muum I am never letting you live this down when I get back. “Look Mum there's Harry Potter.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.
“Busy year?” she said.
Understatement of the century Grandma. James mentally snorted.
“Hope you have — er — a good holiday,” said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.
“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer."
James grinned with pure delight. There he is. That's my Dad!
But he's still scared of them even after Hogwarts he's still scared to go back.
James swallowed a lump in his throat. Sympathy washed over him.
Well first year was not that bad, a smelly professor and just a noseless beast and what worse can happen?
The darkness started appearing.
Come on please send me home this time. James thought I miss Mum, I miss Dad, I miss Al lily and Teddy, please send me home. I've had enough.
But no, the familiar flip came and the vision that appeared was privet drive again and a house elf sitting on Harry's bed.