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Chapter Text

A bitterness was growing within Harry, an infection seeping into his flesh and bones.

As January ended, Harry was tired of the whispers, pointing, and gazes that followed him down the cold hallways of Hogwarts. Although it was approaching two years, Voldemort’s ‘return’ was reaching the eight-month mark, and in that time, the label of liar and murderer had dissolved, emerging as the ‘Chosen One.’

Harry had never hated something more than the title constantly plastered on the Daily Prophet. He hated that he now had to forgive and forget, to put on a brave face and kill a Dark Lord. It didn’t matter that he was only sixteen or that it was painfully apparent that his stability was slipping as the days pushed forward. The unimaginable weight on his shoulders chipped away at who he once was.

Classes became impossible to get through. Harry’s mind wandered too much to comprehend what was happening around him. Everyone looked the other way, fearful that their saviour would be too unstable to do his job. Dumbledore seemed to be one of those people. The headmaster disappeared for months, only to return and plunge Harry into the memories surrounding Tom Riddle.

The pair had searched through memory after memory, but Dumbledore’s only contained so much, and Harry faced the pressure of hounding Slughorn for his one memory that the old wizard craved. In a way, Dumbledore had become addicted, addicted to the enigma that was Tom Riddle to the point that he even asked Harry for his memories. Not seeing the harm, Harry had allowed him to, but he was slightly alarmed to notice the notes upon notes of what he provided.

Even though Harry was careful with the memories provided, his thoughts had strayed to Sirius once, allowing Dumbledore full access to an interaction between him and his godfather. The headmaster tried to bring it up earlier, but Harry had shut it down very quickly. Alongside the bitterness in the boy, Harry resented Dumbledore; Harry blamed the older wizard for a part in Sirius’s death, and the grief he felt was still raw that Harry would be blaming him for a long time.

There had been suggestions of ways to help Harry escape his grief, but Harry wasn’t interested. He had a personal understanding that he didn’t deal with grief or any emotion well, so Harry decided that he would face it all later. Besides, he had Remus, and that was enough for him.

It had been rocky between the two at first. Following the death of Sirius, a tense atmosphere rooted itself between the pair, never knowing what to say to the other. Eventually, Harry begged Remus to hate him. To hate him for taking away the man he cared so deeply for: he had even got down on his knees and sobbed for Remus to say it was his fault, but the man only sat down next to the boy and hugged him. Harry never realised how similar the two were, as Remus, too, hid much of his grief from him, wanting to be strong for a boy he considered his son. No matter how many times Remus told Harry that it wasn’t his fault or held him as he cried to sleep, it took a while for Harry to believe him.

Remus had visited Harry throughout the summer, spending time together and planning to spend the holidays together to overcome the array of emotions. When everything seemed slightly better, Dumbledore interrupted and sent Remus to infiltrate werewolf packs and Harry to The Burrow, where he’d been taken to meet Professor Slughorn in a few days. 

After that, contact with Remus had been minimal. Harry always wondered whether warm hands or cold ones would receive the letters he sent to Remus. 

Not only that, but as the contact dwindled, so did his encounters with his schoolmates. He still spoke to Ron and Hermione, but a disconnection had grown between the trio. Harry had drifted away from them; his best friends had fallen into a strained relationship; with Lavender’s attraction to Ron and Cormac expressing interest in Hermione, the two were arguing with each other on a daily. However, that hadn’t stopped Ron and Hermione from teaming together to watch him, more than they had previously, as his attempts to conceal his feelings were nought, the two growing concerned for the wellbeing of their closest friend.

Now, he often spent his time alone, his invisibility cloak hidden safely within his pocket, allowing him to slip away when needed. It was necessary for Harry at that moment; Malfoy had been following him for what seemed like a while- the blonde boy still not over the fact his father was in Azkaban and that Harry had a part in it.

“You know, you are pathetic, Potter.” Malfoy snarled, his lip upturned with a hateful sneer. Harry had decided to skip Divination, forgetting that since he had taken the class with the Hufflepuffs, the Slytherins now had a free period and could stalk the corridors.

“Just piss off, Malfoy.” Harry sighed, too exhausted to retaliate.

“Piss off? Is that all you’ve got now?” The blonde taunted.

“It’s all you deserve.” Harry snapped, trying to walk down the corridor faster, but Malfoy would not let up on his chase. 

“All I deserve? Come on, Potter, fight back a little.” 

“Do you not understand the meaning of go away, Malfoy? ” Harry stopped in his tracks, turning around to face the other boy with a stern glare.

“I do; I’m sure that godfather of yours did too, after all,” Malfoy never finished his sentence as Harry’s fist collided with his nose, a loud crack sounding through the corridor.

Ignoring Malfoy’s pained groans and his declaration of Harry’s future regret for committing such a crime, he turned back around and walked away, walking at a faster pace; anger coursed through his body as he thought over Malfoy’s words and what would follow if Harry had never silenced him.

Harry had been walking mindlessly for about ten minutes; he suspected by now that teachers and Filch were on a search for him, waiting to give him a week’s detention; considering that he was in the more abandoned parts of the castle, Harry knew that it would be a little while before he was located.

The anger slowly left his body, but Harry continued to wander, still not paying attention to where he was going. Harry knew he had to find his way back to where most students would be, along with whatever punishment he faced.

As Harry turned around, a small glimmer of something out the corner of his eye instantly caught his attention; his gaze flickered to the source of the light, and Harry was met with a door left slightly agar.

Allowing the curiosity to improve, Harry moved towards the room and pushed the door open. Instantly, his eyes landed on the source of what caught his attention, something Harry never thought he’d see again.

The mirror of Erised. 

It had been years since the mirror had crossed his mind. Harry hesitantly looked out of the room and down the corridor, fighting his growing temptation. Neither seeing nor hearing anyone, Harry decided to take small steps towards the mirror until he could see himself.

Harry stared at his pathetic reflection. It was as if he was moments away from a meeting with death. His eyes were sunken, and heavy bags were underneath his green eyes. His skin was hardly the golden tan but sickly and dull, just like when Vernon locked him in his cupboard for weeks, only letting him out to cook or use the bathroom. 

Without realising it, his body continued to move closer. Soon enough, undefined figures appeared behind him. With a startled curse and reflex, Harry looked behind him and saw nothing, but as he looked back to the mirror, he was met with multiple smiling faces. It was uncanny to what he witnessed in his first year. 

James and Lily Potter stared back at him, and by the time Remus and Sirius appeared, Harry seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. It was all Harry needed for silent tears to fall down his face. As he gazed upon his family, whom he had never seen together, more figures appeared in the background.

It took Harry a moment to realise that he was looking at the rest of his family. To the left of his mother was an older couple; neither looked like her, but the older woman’s bright green eyes and the man’s round face deducted that they were his mum’s parents, his grandparents. While Harry held little resemblance to his mother’s side, it was apparent he had taken after his father’s family: from his dark skin, his slightly hooked nose, thin frame, and shaggy black hair. 

He had never met or seen a photo of them, but the reflections looked at him like they’d known him all his life. Harry could only deduce that the mirror was mocking him. At that revelation, Harry was no longer feeling the awe of looking at his parents from when he was eleven; he could feel that simmering anger as he looked at what he would never have.

Harry didn’t know how long he was standing there, his fingers twitching and body rigid as he held himself back from smashing the mirror into tiny pieces. He stepped closer, whether to break it or stare; Harry wasn’t entirely sure himself, but he was sure of Dumbledore’s words echoing in his mind.

Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared.

The mirror was dangerous; Harry remembered that now. It wanted to play with whoever looked upon it. Anger, joy, sadness, desire, the mirror wanted it all. Abruptly, Harry turned and walked away- ignoring the voice in his mind demanding he returned- and debated what teacher he’d be spending his detentions with.

As predicted, Harry received four days of detention with Professor McGonagall. Initially, he would receive seven days, but after revealing why Malfoy received a punch to the nose, he lost three, and an even more angry Malfoy gained them.

Those four days had briefly distracted Harry. He could focus on writing lines and cleaning cauldrons, but the mirror was always in the back of his mind. So, Harry tried harder to distract himself, concentrating on his job of interrogating Slughorn or the multiple essays that began to pile up on his bedside cabinet.

This meant that Harry had been spending more time alone. For the last few days, Ron and Hermione appeared to be more critical of each other than usual, and on Harry’s bad days, he couldn’t stand it.

For Harry, fate decided that Wednesday would be a particularly harsh day.

The nightmare from the previous night had set the course of his day. From the moment he woke, Harry felt lost. He spent ten minutes in the great hall, eating a slither of toast and hopefully waiting for a letter from Remus before deciding to make his way to the library. While it was the weekend, most students would be out on the castle grounds, enjoying the unexpected sun.

As always, the library was silent, apart from the scratch of quills or the shuffle of shoes. He made his way to the far corner of the library, a small table devoid of students. Carefully, Harry pulled his work out of his bag and relished in the silence as he continued his half-written essay.

Lost in his writing, Harry didn’t hear someone sitting in the chair opposite to him. Eventually, Harry realised someone was close to him as he could feel their intense stare; Harry didn’t look up, hoping they would go away.

“How does it feel? Knowing that you killed me?” Harry froze. His head shot up and met his godfather’s dull, pale eyes. His dead godfather.

The Sirius in front of him was a replica of the Sirius he saw at thirteen in the shrieking shack; gone was the put-together man as Harry looked into the crazed eyes of the gaunt wizard from what seemed forever ago. However, there appeared to be more to this Sirius, as he was also deathly pale, his lips a slight tinge of blue; he wore the same clothes he wore the day he died, but they were dull and fraying at the seams. It was as if Harry was looking at the talking corpse of his godfather.

“S-Sirius?” Harry whispered, his quill falling and splattering ink on the table.

“You did this to me, Harry. This is all your fault.” Sirius’s voice held no emotion, his eyes portraying whatever he felt. He regarded Harry with nothing but disgust as the boy found himself unable to move; he was paralysed in his seat as he looked at his godfather, who had once shown him nothing but love and was now looking at him like he was nothing but a disgrace.

Tears formed in Harry’s eyes, his whole body shaking, “I’m sorry, Sirius. You-”

“Breaking out of Azkaban was a mistake. Trying to save you was the worst decision of my life.” The man’s eyes never left Harry’s, and Harry’s eyes never left his.

“Please, Sirius.” Harry made no move to hide the crack in his voice, wondering why not one student had come to see what was happening.

“Why couldn’t you have died? James and Lily would still be here if it weren’t for you.” Sirius sneered as if he had learned the facial expression from Lucius Malfoy.

“I know, Sirius, I know.” Harry was able to lean forward, his hands desperate to reach towards his dead godfather.

“Everything is your fault, Harry. Everything.” Harry was at a loss for words, struggling to say anything to what he fully believed was the truth, “And since you can’t seem to die, I’ll do it myself.”

Without giving Harry time to retaliate, Sirius stood from his chair, the piece of furniture skidding backwards and crashing to the floor, and went straight for Harry’s throat. As cold, thin hands latched onto Harry’s throat, a gasp left the boy’s mouth, and instead of reeling backwards, Harry found himself being flung forward into the table.

Harry let out a shout as he jerked upwards, clutching his throat in a panic as tears streamed from his eyes and his head pounded; he breathed deeply and looked around, waiting to see Sirius once again, but he was nowhere in sight. Glancing down at his paper, Harry noticed that nothing he had written in the last ten minutes was there, and everything quickly clicked. He had been dreaming. His breathing became erratic, and Harry’s hands clenched into fists as he pressed his fingernails to his palm, hoping to regulate himself. He tried to keep his mind empty, but his attempt proved useless as a single thought entered his distressed mind.

The mirror.

Harry needed the mirror. He had to get back. Harry had to see Sirius's smiling face, not the cold, dead face full of disgust. He grabbed his belongings and shoved them all into his bag, not caring if ink spilt over his things, and left the library.

There was a ringing in his ears. Silent tears fell down Harry’s face as he kept his head down and avoided the students around him. Harry quickly found the abandoned classroom with the mirror as if it were ingrained in his memory. It was like waiting for him to show him what he desperately wanted.

Harry openly sobbed for the first time in months as he approached the mirror. Everyone was there, waiting for him, but Harry was solely focused on Sirius.

“I’m so sorry. Sirius, please, I’m so sorry.” Harry choked out as he fell to his knees and hugged himself. With his arms still wrapped around himself, Harry looked up, and his pleading gaze landed on mirror Sirius. The reflection never replied; he only looked at Harry with a smile that shocked the boy’s heart.

“Say you forgive me, Sirius, please.” He begged, moving closer to the mirror. “I know it’s all my fault, but please, just say you forgive me.”

Harry continued to cry for an unknown amount of time, begging for forgiveness under his breath. Then Harry felt something change; he needed, no, he had to, touch the mirror, to feel the coldness of glass against his fingertips as he got closer to his out-of-reach family.

Hesitantly, Harry moved his hand closer to the mirror until he was mere inches away. He was so close that he could hear his parents and family calling and pleading for him to come home.

If he reached forward just a little more, Harry could touch the mirror version of Sirius- he could practically feel the warmth that man had naturally emitted, a familiar comfort that Harry always sought out. Expecting a feeling of joy, Harry was surprised when the warmth suddenly became a sharp shock, hitting his fingertips and spreading throughout his body until it reached his head, settling like a throbbing headache.

Cursing, Harry shook his hand and moved away from the mirror. He looked back, and nothing had changed; his family still stood in the mirror with an unwavering smile. Instead of comfort, unease flowed through his body as he stared at the mirror; wiping away his tears, Harry slowly backed away and grabbed his bag as he fled. Hurrying down the hall, he ignored a voice begging him to return to the mirror.

You killed Sirius Black. 

It’s all your fault.

You killed Sirius Black. 

The two alternating phrases followed Harry wherever he went. With each passing day, it got unbearable. It was all Harry had heard since that sharp shock went through his body after coming so close to the mirror.

It’s all your fault.

A cruel laugh that sounded so much like his own was repeated relentlessly and never seemed to leave him alone. The same laugh and words were bouncing off the walls of the great hall throughout dinner.

Harry had become more withdrawn than ever; he sat hunched at the Gryffindor table, pushing his food- that he hadn’t touched- around his plate and occasionally rubbing his ears on his shoulders, hoping to drown out the voices.

He was aware that Hermione and Ron, now friends, were glancing at him and conversing silently.

“Harry, you killed Sirius Black.” Harry snapped his eyes up, looking at Hermione, whose voice he heard utter those words. He stared at her in fear as the other regarded him with confusion.

“Harry?” She whispered, her hand itching to reach out for the boy before her. 

“W-What?” He replied, his eyes still held fear as he looked at his friend.

“I said you need to eat, Harry.” Hermione couldn’t keep the worry from her voice. Her eyes darted around Harry’s face, searching for any explanation for what was happening to her friend.

“I-I’m fine, Hermione.” He mumbled, avoiding Hermione’s searching gaze by looking back to his plate.

“She’s right, mate; it’s all your fault.” This time, Ron’s voice was the same cruelty that had seeped from Hermione’s.

It’s all your fault.

“Shut up,” Harry grunted, momentarily covering his ears with shaking hands.

“Harry!” Harry glanced at Hermione’s surprised gasp, noticing Ron’s hurt and confused look.

“I only said you do need to eat, mate” Ron frowned, casting small glances towards Hermione.

“I’m sorry, Ron.” Harry flushed, embarrassed and losing the slither of his remaining appetite.” I’m going back to the tower.” He muttered, quickly standing up and fleeing the Great Hall

Ignoring the concerned shout of his name from his two friends and the curious gazes of other students as they watched Harry practically run out of the Great Hall.

I need to get to the tower. Harry repeated in his head.

You killed Sirius Black.

I need to get to the tower.

Harry's whole body was still shaking, and his fingers were fiddling with his cotton jumper as he attempted to keep himself grounded.

It’s all your fault.

I need to get to the mirror.

I need to get to the tower.

Harry only needed to make a left turn, and he’d make it to the Gryffindor tower, to the protection of his bed.

You killed Sirius Black.

I need to get to the mirror.

Harry took a sharp right, heading down a dark corridor.

I need to get to the mirror.

I need to get to the mirror.

Harry made it to the mirror quicker than he had previously. He stared at the gold-rimmed glass, and an unfamiliar feeling came over him- like he had no control over his body. It was exactly like before, but he wasn’t crying out for Sirius’s forgiveness but rather a way to escape, to drown out the chaos in his head.

He began to move, not fully registering that his body was getting closer. However, he realised this when his hip collided with the corner of a desk, and he looked confused about why he had moved several steps forward.

 It wasn’t long before he lost control again. One slight glance at the mirror, and Harry was already taking small steps. As he got closer, the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall, and his steps became hesitant as unease took over and began to counteract his lack of control. The unease wasn’t enough as, just as before, Harry stood in front of the mirror; his hand reached out, and his body shivered as he remembered the pain from before.

Harry took a step back. His mind still wasn’t clear, but he knew something was wrong; the plea for him to leave lay heavy in his gut. As if someone had slapped him in the face, Harry realised he was meant to be in the Gryffindor tower, safely tucked into bed. He had never wanted to go to the mirror. His heart hammered at the realisation; he avoided looking at the glass and slowly turned around, unaware that his finger had touched the glass ever so slightly.

As he walked away, Harry could only make a small yelp when something grabbed his shoulders, ankles, and every part of his body. Shaking uncontrollably, Harry turned his head to see what had him in an iron grip. 

Hands.

Cold, grey hands. Hands that had black veins running throughout them and bitten-down fingernails covered in dirt.

They pulled and pulled and pulled. Harry tried to push forward, but it was futile. He wanted to scream, to call out for help, but nothing could leave his mouth. He tried to reach out and grab whatever object that could aid in his escape. His attempts quickly grew useless as Harry could feel his eyelids becoming heavy and increasingly drowsy, and his limbs soon followed his eyelids in their inability to move. Knowing he could do nothing, Harry allowed his eyes to close and his body to go limp as he awaited the collision with the glass.

If he were still awake, Harry would feel like he was drowning in freezing water as he was swallowed by the glass and disappeared without a trace. His bag sprawled across the floor was the only indication he was ever there.

Chapter Text

“Have a pleasant evening, Lord Potter.” 

“You aswell, Melanie, thank you for today.” James Potter bid a tired farewell to his secretary, closing the door to his study in the Ministry of Magic. His footsteps muffled by the deep green carpets, walking past the chittering portraits as he reached the grand hub of the heart of wizarding life. His pace was quick, hoping to stay clear of anyone prowling the area. 

It was busier than usual, he weaved passed the other withes and wizards wanting to get home or the young boys shouting the Daily Profit headlines and waving papers in faces. James paid no mind to the cues, it didn’t matter to him for he made his way to the point of apparition for Lords and left the Ministry with no hesitation. 

Not a moment later James was stood before a clearing of trees, his ministry robes fanning weakly from the evening breeze. He made his way down a gravel path, towards his home, Potter manor, that was illuminated by the setting sun. 

Sensing he was near, the front door opened, and James was greeted by the smell of potion brewing and the sound of the radio. Smiling, James took his shoes off and went to the source of the sound and smell; spotting his wife in her study, James quietly walked up behind her.

“Hello, you.” Lily Potter smiled as she felt her husband’s arms wrapping around her waist and squeezing tightly, his face pressed tightly to the top of her head.

“I have had such a horrible day,” James grumbled, still holding tightly onto his wife and simply breathing in the hints of lavender that James found suited her perfectly.

Lily Potter, his wife of over fifteen years, brought light to his world. Her fiery red hair and temper enchanted James from age eleven, and continued to do so as every minute passed. While recent years hadn’t been kind to her, Lily stood firm and never lost the spark in her incredible green eyes.

“You never seem to have a good day, " she said softly, stirring the potion in the cauldron.

“I don’t think I ever will.” He replied in an equally soft voice.

“Well, you’ll need to cheer up because everyone is coming around later.” Lily hummed, referring to their monthly get-together with their friends.

“That is true.” James smiled slightly at the fact that there was something to look forward to. “How was work today?”

“Just like yesterday: pompous assholes who can’t bare being given a potion by a muggleborn.” Lily laughed dryly as James frowned.

“I don’t-” James began, but Lily cut him off by turning around and touching his lips.

“Considering I know what you’re about to say to me,” she raised her eyebrow, pressing down on her husband’s lips when his mouth opened. “Don’t bother finishing your question because you already know my answer.”

No matter how often they’ve had this conversation, James could not let it go: he couldn’t accept that people could insult someone as perfect as his wife. Of course, the insanity that was blood supremacy would never be extinguished; James had wished that those individuals would keep their outdated and ridiculous troubles to themselves.

“It’s just-”

“I’m not finished, Potter.” Lily chided, a soft smile on her lips. “I love what I do, providing potions for people and helping them, so I’m more than capable of dealing with a few assholes. Plus, they don’t leave fully unscathed.”

“Can you at least give me some names?” He pleaded, slightly muffled as Lily’s finger had not left his lips.

“If you’re good, " she said with a playful smile, finally moving her hand to rest on his chest. “You’ve had a few letters arrive today; I left them on your desk.”

James had no choice but to accept the answer he was given. Instead, he chose to kiss Lily on her forehead before heading towards his study on the second floor of their home.

James had spent roughly two hours reviewing his letters before there was a knock on the door. Placing his letter in a draw, James quickly made his way downstairs, the voices of his friends greeting becoming louder, and they

“Prongs, It’s been too long!” Sirius Black cried out when James made himself known. When he reached them, Sirius pulled James into an exaggerated hug, swaying them from side to side before they made their way to the living room.

“It’s been less than a day, Sirius?” Mary snorted, stepping away from the fireplace. The dying red flame burst into green flames as Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadows stepped through, greeting them all.  

“Even I don’t get that warm of a welcome,” Remus shook his head as he flopped onto the sofa, Dorcas joining him as Marlene walked off to find Lily.

“Oh, stop lying, Moony.” Sirius rolled his eyes, still not letting go of James.

“Sirius does have a point,” James grinned, extricating himself from his best friend’s tight grip, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you a lot.”

“Less than a day for you two,” Marlene called out from the kitchen as she helped Lily and Mary bring out trays of food and drink.

“Communicating from other sides of the courtroom doesn’t count as seeing each other.” Sirius grumbled, thanking Marlene as she handed him a glass of fire whiskey.

“Aww, did they separate you two?” Dorcas cooed.

“I even used the I’m Lord Black card, nothing.” Sirius huffed, leaning against Remus and grabbing his boyfriend’s hand.

“You don’t think Riddle’s starting up again?” James questioned as the others went quiet.

“I mean, I spotted some of Dumbledore’s lackeys following me these last few days.” Dorcas shrugged, grimacing moments later – making it evident that she had not meant to say that.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lily admonished, worried for her friend’s safety.

“I like to pretend I’m not being followed when I’m trying to buy some carrots for dinner,” Dorcas admitted, feeling slightly guilty for not informing her best friends. She was soothed as Marlene touched her thigh and squeezed gently.

“That means they’re probably going to start on you two soon, once Riddle catches wind of it.” Remus pointed out, looking at Sirius and James.

“They never stopped,” Mary said, leaning back on her chair, “They’re only getting bolder.”

The group fell into a calm atmosphere, not wanting to dwell on the potential of future trouble. On their monthly get-together, they liked to pretend they weren’t in such a fractured society; it was a way for them to get together for a couple of hours. They never talked about anything troubling, mostly their time at school and moments that made them smile.

“You have an owl at your window,” Remus commented, stopping their conversation and pointing to where a brown barn owl was perched on the windowsill.

As she was closest, Lily pushed herself off the sofa, walked over to the window, and opened it to retrieve two letters from the owl’s claws before it flew off into the night.

“One for me and one for you, Lord Potter, " she informed James, playfully speaking his title. She left the letters on the cabinet before walking back to the sofa.

“I wonder what they want now.” James groaned, knowing that the only individuals who use his title would be Gringotts or the Ministry.

“Well, you’re going to have to tell us another time,” Marlene yawned, stretching her arms up, “as I think it’s time we head home before I fall asleep on your sofa.”

“Again.” Dorcas snickered, listening to Marlene claim that it had only happened once.

“That means we should head back, too,” Sirius sighed, following Remus as he stood up.

The group all said their goodbyes to each other, hugging and promising to meet soon. Once their friends left, the house fell into a comfortable silence; James walked over to the cabinet, listening to the faint patter of rain on the glass and wondering if he should open the letter or leave it to the morning.

“I’ve just got to do something for work; I won’t be long.” Lily interrupted his debate, walking over and kissing him on the cheek, briefly rubbing his arm before leaving for her study.

Looking back at the unopened letter, James turned it around and saw the familiar seal of Gringotts Bank. Feeling slightly better that it wasn’t from the Ministry, James cracked the wax seal and read the letter’s contents.

Lord Potter,

This letter is a confirmation of withdrawal from the Potter vault on the date:

1 ^st February 1996

The amount withdrawn:

10 Galleons

25 sickles

30 knuts

If you do not recognise this, please contact the person managing your vault or a member of Gringotts Bank.

May gold forever flow into your bank,

Gringotts bank.

Strange, James thought as he turned the letter over, searching for any sign that it may be fake. He hadn’t been to Gringotts in weeks and had enough money stored around the house.

“Hey, Lils, have you taken any money out of our vault recently? The first, to be exact.” James called out, knowing she could hear him from her study.

“Mmh, no, why?” she called back, and then something metal was placed on a table.

“Gringotts sent a letter, a confirmation of withdrawal.”

“Oh, maybe your mum or dad?” She guessed, poking her head around the door.

“Maybe,” James hummed, lost in thought as he tried to recall his recent visits to Gringotts.

“It couldn’t have been someone we don’t know,” Lily reassured, her voice louder as she walked into the living room, taking the paper from his hand and reading over the letter herself. “You can only withdraw if you have Potter's blood or the key, which is currently safe in our room and with your mum.”

“True. Not to mention that’s it’s a very odd amount.” James shrugged, and Lily nodded in agreement.

“Ask your parents about it, and if it isn’t them, talk to the bank. I’m sure we’ll be able to have a look or set something up.” Lily grabbed James’ hand, kissing his palm. “You go and get some sleep. I’ve just got to tidy up, and then I’ll be up.” 

James stood up, shaking his head. “At least let me help. We’ll head up together.”

“Go, Potter,” Lily ordered James, her stern look promising multiple stinging hexes if he didn’t leave.

“Yes, Mrs Potter.” James grinned weakly, pressing a quick kiss to his wife’s lips before turning and going upstairs.

James headed down another hallway, stopping briefly before a door on the way to their room; tiny golden snitches with the name Harry on a light blue plaque were printed on the wood. Touching the door slightly, James continued down the hallway and entered his room, beginning his nightly routine in the bathroom; by the time he was finished, James could hear Lily making her way up to the master bedroom.

As if getting into his bed released all the fatigue that had built up, James barely managed to stay awake as Lily joined him; she pressed herself against her husband’s back and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Night, honey,” Lily murmured, trying to cuddle up closer. 

“Goodnight, Lils. I love you.” James whispered back, not expecting an answer, as he could already tell by her breathing that she was asleep.

James hadn’t even lasted thirty seconds before finding himself deep asleep.

It was mid-afternoon when James stumbled through the floo of his parents' home, narrowly missing the coffee table as he always did. As he brushed the ash off his robes, James listened for his parents, barely making out their voices coming from outside.

“Mum? Dad?” He called out,

“Jamie?” A soft voice spoke as James looked up and smiled at his mother. Grinning, James walked over and gave his mum a firm hug.

Euphemia Potter was a wonderful woman and an even more wonderful mum. She always exuded nothing but kindness to those who interacted with her. She had a sharp tongue when provoked and a deadly force when those she loved were threatened. James had always aspired to be like his mother, but he knew he would never come close to the force that was Euphemia Potter.  

“Not that I’m opposed, but what’s with the visit?” She brushed a stray hair from her son’s face as a concerned look came over her, “Is Lily okay?”

“She’s fine, mum, don’t worry. Everyone is.” James reassured, “ I need to ask you something, though, is dad around?”

“He’s in the garden, dear; we’ve been fixing it before spring.” She affectionately patted his cheek, prompting James to follow her to the garden.

“Rather cold to be working in the garden, no?” James asked, crossing his arms as he came in contact with the cold wind.

“Warming charms do work wonder.” A deep voice came from the side of him, his father dumping some logs into an orange bin.

Just like his mother, Fleamont Potter was an exceptional father. He never once played into the expected demeanour of the cold Potter Lord, always making sure his son could want for nothing while showing the utmost respect for everyone, well, almost everyone.

“So do levitation charms,” James quipped, grinning at his dad’s annoyed glare.

“It’s good to take a break from magic.” Euphemia reasoned, ignoring the eye roll from her husband.

“I forgot to move the washing.” Fleamont huffed, stretching his back and wincing as it clicked.

“I asked five times,” Euphemia added as she returned to the house.

“Five times?” James snorted, dodging a small stick his father threw at him.

“I’m an old man, and I need to keep up on my sleep.” Fleamont shrugged as his warm, brown eyes focused on James, and he moved to his son, drawing him into a hug.

“What can we do for you?” He slung an arm around James’ shoulder, and the two entered the house and the kitchen.

“I got a letter from the bank yesterday about a withdrawal. I wanted to know if either of you knew about it?” James said, giving a quick thank you as his mum handed him a cup of tea.

“No, we haven’t taken any money out.” Euphemia frowned, “What about Lily?”

“She hasn’t either, but our key is safe at home, and I’m guessing yours is, too?”

“Perfectly safe,” Fleamont said confidently. “How much taken?”  

“10 galleons, 25 sickles and 30 knuts.” James pulled the letter out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

“That’s an odd amount.” His father commented as he reached over and picked up the letter to look for himself.

“I know. It has to be a mistake; we’ve got our keys, and using Potter’s blood is out of the question.” Getting up, James placed his cup by the sink

“Are you going to Gringotts?”

“I’m going to head over there now; get this all sorted as soon as possible.”

“All right, son, let us know what happened or floo me if you need help,” Fleamont said as the three walked towards the fireplace.

“Of course. Can you still come for dinner next week?” James smiled as he hugged his parents.

“Of course, Jamie. Tell Lily we said hello.”

“Will do, I’ll see you soon.” Giving a final goodbye, James entered the fireplace, and as a burst of green flames surrounded him, he tumbled into the leaky cauldron.

"Long time no see, Mr Potter." Tom, the bartender, greeted the other wizard as he walked past the bar.

"I hope you've been well, Tom." James inquired, his eyes wandering to the small news board to see if anything worthy would catch his attention.

"We're going steady. Are you here for a drink?" Tom held out his wand, ready to summon whatever drink James requested.

"I'm afraid not. I've got somewhere to be." James apologised.

"No worries, wish Mrs Potter the best for me."

With a farewell, James left the Leaky Cauldron and walked down the cobbled path of Diagon Alley. As always, there was a calm atmosphere: witches and wizards milling about with their day-to-day activities, the knights of Walpurgis observing those around. Weaving in and out of the crowd, James finally reached the bank.

Unlike the alley, the bank was quiet apart from the scratching of quills and the murmur of goblins as they perched on the wooden desks lining the walls.

“I’m here to meet with my bank managers,” James told the goblin sitting on the high desk, who had not acknowledged that he had heard James.

Eventually, the goblin spoke, “Name?”

“James Fleamont Potter, “ he said, and then James watched the creature’s sharp eyes glance at him.

“Of course, Lord Potter. We will have your managers with you in a moment.”

Nodding in thanks, James stepped to the side and observed the bank. Across the room, individuals had small silver pins that he knew had intricate details of a snake. Unsurprisingly, many surrounded a blonde individual with a silver pendant: Yaxley.

Not wanting the man to see him, James turned his body away from the wizard. However, James knew he was unsuccessful when he felt the presence of another and a slight cough.

“Yaxley.” James nodded curtly as he acknowledged the other wizard after a moment.

“Lord Potter,” James did not meet the eyes of the other, both choosing to look forward. “Are you here for business?”

“Yes, nothing too important.” James’s voice was curt, not attempting to hide his dissatisfaction that Yaxley was talking to him.

“I hope all goes well.” The two fell into an uncomfortable silence before Yaxley cleared his throat, “How is your wife?”

“Lily is doing wonderfully.” James’ tone grew sharper, and he stared hard at Yaxley.

“Lord Potter?” Tearing his stern gaze away from Yaxley, who was just about to speak, James saw his bank managers, Griphook and David Smith, waiting for him beside a pair of wooden doors.

While Griphook had been manager of the Potter Vaults since he was a boy, David Smith had been a manager for only twelve years. Both proved efficient and loyal to the Potter family, and James had no doubts about his trust in them.  

“Lord Potter, it’s been a pleasure.” Yaxley held out his hand, awaiting James to clasp his hand around the other man, a silent declaration that all was well between the two.

“I’m afraid I struggle to say the same, but thank you,” James said with a nod before walking off. He did not spare Yaxley another glance but felt his angered stare on the back of his head.

“Lord Potter, what can we do for you?” The posh voice of Griphook welcomed him as he was led into an office.

“I received this yesterday,” James pulled out the letter and handed it to the two, “I want to know if this was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t a mistake. A withdrawal was made a few days ago.” David replied, his eyes travelling pointedly around James’s face, never meeting his eyes.

“It must’ve been; no one capable of accessing my vaults took money out.” James frowned, “I want to know who it was and how, as our keys are safe, and neither my parents nor I have used our blood.”

James was met with silence. David still refused to look at him while Griphook regarded James with an unreadable expression.

“Is there a problem with my request?”

“I’m afraid we’re not able to supply that information.” For once, Griphook hesitated. “As they did have Potter blood, the policy states we cannot disclose that information.”

“Potter blood was used? That’s impossible, where did-”

“Again, Lord Potter, I’m afraid that policy states we cannot disclose that information. Privacy of customers, I’m sure that you understand.”

“When was this a thing?” James rubbed his face in frustration. Internally, he was surprised; he had never heard of this policy and had never had trouble finding things out from the pair before him.

“Minister Riddle has had this instated for several years now.” The goblin looked at James rather condescendingly, “If you were to be more involved-”

“You may manage my bank, Griphook, but it gives you no authority to talk on matters you know nothing about.” He snapped, face blank, as anger bubbled closer to the surface.  

“Apologies for stepping out of line, Lord Potter.” Griphook’s attempt at sincerity was poor, so the room returned to a tense silence.

“There are some measures we can put in place; think of it as a compromise,” David broke the tension as he followed with a nervous chuckle.

“A compromise?”

“We can arrange things for you if the individual returns; we can send a letter when a withdrawal is requested.”

While it wasn’t what James had hoped for, he knew he would receive nothing else if he didn’t accept.

“That is adequate, I suppose.”

“Alright, we can inform you when a withdrawal is requested.” Smith smiled, though strained; James knew he was happy to appease him.

However, James decided to push a little further.

“Are you able to keep them in custody?” James leaned forward in his chair, noticing how Griphook’s eyes narrowed. “After all, if someone has somehow obtained blood to enter my vault, I want to know who they are.”

“Policy states-”

“Of course, I can bring this up with Minister Riddle. Regardless of policy, he prides himself in our welfare,” James suggested with a raised brow, knowing whatever he wanted was now in his pocket.

“No need to alert Minister Riddle. We’ll be able to hold them for a short amount of time.” Griphook rectified, not bothering to hide the annoyance from his face.  

“Wonderful.” James smiled, standing up and bowing his head to the goblin, “Oh, and this stays between us, of course.”

“That would not be wise, Lord Potter.” Griphook tried to reason.

“If you can’t give me a name for privacy, then I want this mentioned to no one, Griphook.” James still hadn’t stopped smiling, but his eyes shone with displeasure.

“As you wish, Lord Potter,” Griphook promised, his upper lip twitching slightly as David walked James out of the room.

The two men walked silently down the corridor. James was already obsessing over every possible scenario regarding why and how this had happened, to the point where he could feel his magic growing restless.

“I may not be allowed to tell you a name; I don’t even know myself,” David began, his voice so quiet that even James struggled to hear him. “But I can tell you that he looked like you, almost identical, and I only saw a quick glimpse.”

“Polyjuice?” James murmured as they walked into the central part of the bank.

“It doesn’t change the blood, plus he looked young.” James could see David hesitate before he spoke again. “You don’t have a secret son or family member you don’t know about?”

“No. Harry was my only son.” Replied James, his voice monotone as he stared ahead.

“Sorry, that was a ridiculous thing to ask.” David rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, which flushed in embarrassment.

“It’s alright; it needed to be asked.” James smiled slightly, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Still, I had no right to ask.” James didn’t reply, and the two finally reached the main entrance.

“If anyone asks why I was here,” James began as he shook David’s hand. “This whole thing was a misunderstanding.”

“Of course, I assume you won’t be telling Lily?”

“Yes, until I know what is happening, no one will know.” He said, making it clear there was no room for argument.

Lord Potter,

Upon your recent request, an individual resides in our custody after attempting to withdraw from the Potter Vault.

The individual will be held in custody for 24 hours before being handed over to the auror department or released.

May gold forever flow in your vault

Griphook, manager of the Potter Vault

For a moment, James didn’t know what to do: he stared at the letter, anxiety brewing in his gut. It had been a couple of days since his original visit, and he had been on edge ever since; paranoia followed him every time Lily went to work or whenever James was in the ministry. Sirius had even questioned if James was doing okay as he constantly looked over his shoulder.

Looking at the clock on the wall, James knew that Lily would be back from her outing with Mary in an hour and a half; understanding that he would unlikely return before her, he wrote a quick note explaining that he had been called into the Ministry.

Pulling his coat haphazardly around his body, James made his way to the bank, not even glancing at Tom as he walked through the pub. James saw people looking at him as he strode through Diagon Alley. He looked at Lord Potter's stony face as he looked straight ahead and walked quickly to the bank.

James had walked two steps into the bank before David was beside him, walking hurriedly.

“Just keep walking,” Smith murmured, his hand twitching in a sign of nerves. “They’re being held in cell 215, but we must go to the office first.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” James commented as they entered the office.

“They-” Smith quickly shut the door, James noticing that he had cast a quick silencing charm.

“Mr Smith.” The sharp retribution came from behind them; as David cursed under his breath, James turned around to find Griphook looking at David pointedly, and he knew that things were much more severe than he had anticipated.

“Lord Potter-”

“Save the formalities; tell me what happened.” James ordered, cutting the other off.

“The individual came to receive-”

“Just tell him the name, Griphook.” David snapped as James looked at the two in utter confusion and frustration.

“We must follow policy.”

“Screw the policy. This is not the time-”

“The time does not matter-”

“Enough!” James commanded, quickly silencing the quarrelling pair, “Will one of you please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“A kid has been taking money, he-”

“Mr Smith-”

“The kid says he’s Harry James Potter.”

James froze, his whole body stiff, and two pairs of eyes looked at him: one with fear and the other unreadable. He sat there, not saying anything before his gaze hardened and his voice went cold,

“If this is some sick joke…”

“James, he looks exactly like you apart from his eyes, well and a scar that looks like lightning all over his face and hands-”

“Stop talking.” James whispered, clenching his hands.  

“I would never lie to you about this, James. Ever,” David pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward James.

The scary part was that James believed him; he thought a boy was sitting in room 215, claiming to be his son. His son was taken away from him too early. As the thought went through his mind, that fear began to anger him. Disgusting, violent anger that someone would do something like that.

There would be consequences if Dumbledore or Riddle found a way to do this.

James could feel his magic reacting, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. There was a tingling sensation across his skin, his magic simmering just below the surface. James was unsure what to do next; while he had every intention of confronting and severely harming whoever was in the room, he wanted to learn from them and what they got out of pretending to be his child.

It hadn’t registered to the wizard that he was moving; his wand held out in front of him, and the words point me were at the tip of his tongue. He could hear footsteps behind him, shouts of his name to calm down and think. James couldn’t just stop and think, not when some sick-minded individual wanted to mess with his family.

James eventually reached cell 215 and hadn’t fully swung open the door before his voice thundered.

“How fucking dare-”

James Potter never finished what he would say as he stared into the terrified, verdant eyes belonging to a boy who looked like his son. His son had been dead for over a decade.

Chapter Text

In the darkness of Knockturn Alley, a shop stood empty. Its windows broken and boarded with wooden planks, its crumbling walls lined with posters dating back years. The inside was ransacked; cases devoid of valuables and shattered glass littered the floorboards. However, in the far corner of the building, a boy lay on the floor in front of a mirror, barely noticeable as candles flickered weakly on the walls. 

The boy shifted, a low groan escaping his throat as he rolled onto his side. Harry Potter’s eyes fluttered open as he braced his palms on the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position. Half conscious, Harry rubbed his eyes and muttered incoherently. 

“Ron, what’s the time?”

Without receiving an answer from his best friend, Harry reached over, believing himself in his bed in the Gryffindor rooms, to grab the wand on his bedside table. As he reached over, Harry collided with the floorboards with a surprised grunt. 

As his head collided with the damp ground, Harry was wide awake. His side throbbed with dull but noticeable pain as he sat up and slowly looked around to take in his surroundings. It was all unfamiliar, he had sleepwalked a few times in his childhood and ended up in somewhere in the Dursley’s home, but this room did not belong in any way to Hogwarts.

Harry could feel his breathing picking up as each inhale and exhale became shorter and sharper. His mind was reeling at the possibilities of how he ended up wherever he was: one was that he had to be dreaming. Trapped in a heavy sleep, lying motionless on his bed and awaiting Ron to slip on his underwear, letting out a slew of curses that would land him on garden gnome duty for the rest of his life. Harry just had to wait: he had to patiently anticipate his best friend's deep voice startling him awake so he could thank him for taking Harry out of this nightmare and apologise for his behaviour yesterday evening. 

At the thought of the events of last night, everything seemed to come back to Harry all at once,  a sharp slap to his face as the memories flooded back. The hands. The mirror. The cold, withering limbs from the mirror. The mirror that currently stood in front of him. 

Without a single thought, Harry, somewhat comically, launched himself away from the mirror and shuffled back to distance himself but thudded against an old wooden cabinet. 

Fear crawled up Harry’s spine as his gaze locked onto the mirror. The piece of furniture now had a large crack across the glass and a dust-ridden sheet draped across a corner: Harry’s wand laying a few inches in front . He waited a few moments before slowly inching forward, his hand reaching out as far as it could to roll his wand towards himself and snatching it up in a tight grip, returning to his previous position. 

Harry sat motionless, a slight ringing in his ears as he tried to make sense of everything. Harry weakly tried to convince himself that what has happened didn’t- he was simply in one of his more intricate nightmares, or Voldemort was meddling with his head, and he merely had to find his means of breaking free. 

Harry shakily pushed himself up and stood on his feet, tumbling ever so slightly as he did so. Harry stood still, composing himself, before wandering around the unfamiliar room. He stepped cautiously over broken wood and glass, hearing the wind whistle as he moved closer to an open door. Harry was about to cross the threshold but stopped when he spotted bold words. 

The Daily Prophet. 

Harry perked up at the title, he had never had that excitement when seeing it before. The Daily Prophet was a regular occurrence in his dreams: while it tended to be snippets from his prior years, the headlines labelling him a liar were about to comfort him for the first time. 

He reached out with shaking hands and picked up the folded newspaper. As Harry went to unfold the pages, his gaze landed on the small print of the date. 1989. His brows furrowed as he read the date and attempted to recall anything that happened when he was seven years old, perhaps Voldemort wanted to play with his times at the Dursley’s. Harry’s eyes travelled to the top of the picture on the front cover where Harry was only able to make out the forehead of a man with neatly curled hair. Opening the paper, Harry sucked in a sharp breath, and his hands clenched, slightly tearing the edges of the newspaper. 

The face of Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, stared at him with a smirk as a bold headline flashed below. 

New law proposed by Minister Riddle. 

Harry had to wake up soon; he couldn’t bear it anymore. With little awareness, Harry’s left hand let go of the paper but he continued to stare where the paper once was and made a move to pinch his skin. When his fingertips brushed his arm, Harry stopped himself; whether intentional or not, Harry didn’t want to confirm whether this was real. 

His hand moved away, picking the side of the newspaper back up. Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, appeared to be a much older version of the boy he met in the diary. Just from the black-and-white photo alone, the wizard looked dangerous, concealed by the attractiveness of his features. Harry spotted Dumbledore’s name on a smaller column, and he let out a small sigh of relief that maybe this nightmare had a way out.

Harry placed the paper back on the table, not bothering to read further because everything was a play of his mind; although the mention of Dumbledore eased his worries, he just had to wait a few more moments before Ron would wake him, ending this nightmare. 

“Hello?” Harry called out, but it barely passed a whisper as he turned back to the door. Not receiving a reply, Harry moved further into what now looked like a small hallway as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Harry barely made out the staircase at the end of the hallway but he moved forward, knowing it was his only way out.

“How lovely, a creepy staircase to make this a little better,” Harry muttered to himself. He took hesitant steps up the stairs, wincing as they creaked under the weight of his body. As the noise echoed around him, no indication was made that he wasn’t alone, and it was still too dark to tell where he was. 

Harry eventually reached another open door and cautiously peaked around it. Again, his eyes had to adjust to the darkness, but the streams of moonlight helped him greatly.

From what Harry could make out, he was standing on a shop floor. He could identify the register and shelves that shimmered with cobwebs and dust. Just like where Harry was before, the place was destroyed, with broken glass and boarded-up windows/ 

He moved further into the room, careful of every broken object on the floor. Harry softly ran his fingers along the shelves, his hands coated in a thick layer of dust as he rubbed his fingers together. Harry moved on from his inspection of the shelves, his attention drawn to something he could make out as a poster board. 

There was an array of faces, many of whom Harry didn’t recognise, plastered on the bulletin board. By the large amounts of money printed underneath their names, Harry assumed he was looking at a wanted poster. It was almost a déjà vu for Harry, already picturing his godfather’s face.

Lost in thought, Harry was startled when he heard the sound of footsteps and voices; he quickly ducked behind some shelves, his wand pointing towards the entrance. 

Waiting tensely, Harry heard the sound of deep laughter belonging to several men. 

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out!” A voice whined before sighing in frustration, but it was hardly heard over drunken, slurred laughter. 

“Oh, come on, he was looking at me funny.” Another man defended, stopping outside Harry’s current hiding place.

‘No, he wasn’t, you idiot. Now we’ve got nowhere to go.” 

“I’m sure there are still a few pubs in Diagon Alley that’ll let us in.” 

“Whatever, let's go.” Harry watched as the shadows and voices of the men grew distant. Still, Harry refused to move or loosen his grip on his wand. 

After listening to the wizards, a voice in his mind tried to convince him that this wasn’t some elaborate dream.

 Its soft, convincing words terrified Harry. 

Harry had only resorted to theft a few times, most of which occurred when the Dursleys were particularly harsh in their punishments. 

It had been two days since he woke in front of Erised’s cracked mirror. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since Harry finally accepted that he was not dreaming but rather living in a world where Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, was Minister of Magic and Albus Dumbledore was no headmaster but rather Tom’s political opposition.

Harry still had a plethora of questions that he had yet to find the answer to. He knew it would be a long while living with nothing but fear, his wand, and his invisibility cloak until he received the desperately needed answers.

He refused to leave the building, choosing to stay huddled in the room he had woken up in, cautiously inspecting the mirror and anything that seemed remotely interesting or helpful. It wasn’t until the hunger set in that Harry had to venture away from his temporary shelter.

With his invisibility cloak, Harry had made his way into a muggle market and managed to sneak away with a set of clothes, deciding that being spotted wearing a Hogwarts uniform was not a good idea. He had also begun taking food from stalls across Diagon Alley, feeling more guilty each time as he watched the owners look around in confused anger, searching for the thief and missing stock.

Harry was aware that he should be freaking out, terrified that he was entirely alone in a completely new place. He assumed that if Dumbledore and Voldemort were here, then he’d have a counterpart of his own, living with his friends in the Gryffindor dorms; he had a brief thought that Sirius could be alive, but it was too painful and quickly brushed it away.

In the past forty-eight hours, Harry’s thoughts often drifted to his friends and family. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Ron, Hermione and Remus. He wondered if they knew he had disappeared and if they were in chaos looking for their best friend and saviour.

Like his thoughts with Sirius, Harry strayed away from the prospect that his parents were alive, living a simple life with a version of himself being allowed to experience the joy of his family. This caused dark jealousy to simmer in his heart, and to save himself more pain; he assumed he was some alternate version of The Boy Who Lived or just an ordinary boy called Harry Potter attending Hogwarts who lost his parents. 

Of course, there was the possibility that everything he theorised could be false. There could be no Harry Potter, and no one would know who he is or ever look for him. For a moment, Harry hoped that was true, wishing to enjoy the calmness of a mundane life, but he knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life hiding in an abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley, stealing from underneath his cloak.

Growing more desperate, Harry decided to make the risky decision of going to Gringotts Bank. With the idea that his counterpart was at Hogwarts, Harry could go to the bank and withdraw enough money to keep him safe and somehow find a way home. It was a ridiculous feat for an alone and scared sixteen-year-old, but Harry could think of no other option and had to try. 

On the morning of the third day, Harry ensured his wand was accessible and his invisibility cloak was wrapped tightly around his body before leaving his temporary home. 

Harry had only visited Knockturn Alley briefly in his second year, and as he walked the cobbled path, he passed several groups of witches and wizards huddled together. He felt tense as he shuffled down the street; he knew no one could see him, but they would hear him if he made one wrong move. 

Harry eventually made his way to the busy atmosphere of Diagon Alley. The famous shopping alley was practically the same, apart from walls lined with posters of Voldemort; Harry was still unable to think of Tom Riddle as Minister; not only that, but he noticed several groups of individuals adorning unfamiliar robes with a small pin on the lapels. 

From a narrow view, Harry had no reason to believe everyone lived in some dystopian reality. However, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that something much darker was going on behind everything, and it bestowed Harry with more determination to make his way back home. 

As he reached Gringotts, Harry turned left and stood behind some boxes in an empty alley; glancing around briefly, Harry removed his invisibility cloak and shrunk it into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, Harry walked away from his hiding spot with his head down. 

He squeezed past many people, carefully keeping his breathing and growing nerves steady. He made his way up the stone steps and hoped he didn’t seem suspicious as he walked through the bank and waited in the queue leading to the main desk. 

Harry briefly assessed his surroundings, glancing up for only a few seconds each time. He could make out more of those with robes and pins, but there were also a few without robes but lockets, and Harry could not identify what they looked like or who they belonged to. 

Curiosity taking over, Harry wasn’t aware that those in front of him had left and that he was now standing at the front. 

“Next.” A sharp voice drawled, catching Harry’s attention and causing his head to snap towards the desk in surprise. Looking behind, Harry flushed in embarrassment as those waiting did not hide their annoyance. 

“Next.” The disinterested Goblin repeated. 

“I want to withdraw from my vault.”

“Name?” 

“Harry Potter.” Harry stuttered ever so slightly, trying to hide behind his hair as the creature looked at him briefly; with a wave of his hand, Harry was directed to a series of benches where he patiently sat, his leg bouncing in a messy rhythm.

He looked around, his vision skewed as he still kept his head down and hid behind his hair. Gringotts Bank looked the same, goblins and wizards working together behind the desks, their faces either annoyed or bored. Harry couldn’t recognise any familiar face just yet, but he had a feeling that it would change soon as a vaguely familiar voice spoke in front of him.

“Harry Potter?”

Harry looked up, hoping his face and body language did not show his nerves as his eyes landed on the person calling his name. 

Harry recognised the goblin as Griphook instantly. He had spoken to the creature momentarily in his first year when Hagrid had taken him to his vault for the first time, but after that day he had not interacted with the goblin. Inhaling a shaky breath, Harry stood up and took a few steps towards him. 

“My name is Griphook; please follow me.” 

Harry frowned, a nagging feeling at his introduction, but Harry followed him nonetheless. He was led a down a large hallway, doors lining every wall until they reached a door that looked similar to all the rest. Harry was taken inside and directed to sit on a brown leather chair as Griphook sat on a similar one behind a large mahogany desk. 

“As I’ve said, my name is Griphook, and I am one of the managers for the Potter Vault; how may I help you?” 

“Uh, I want to take money out of my vault.” Mentally, Harry kicked himself when his request sounded more like a question like he was asking for permission. 

“Very well, I need you to present the Potter vault key.” There was a sharpness to Griphook’s smile, almost knowing that Harry did not have the small, golden key. 

Shit.  

That was the only thing going through Harry’s mind. He had forgotten entirely about the need for the key. He was frozen in fear, his mind filtering through every possible way to save himself. 

“I don’t have the vault key. I must’ve forgotten it, I’m afraid.” Harry winced, desperately wanting to cry, as he hid his shaking and sweating hands under the desk. He dug his nails into his palm, hoping nothing impulsive left his mouth. “I can go get it now, and come back at a later time.”
Harry stood up abruptly, heading towards the door and reaching for the door handle. As he reached for the door, however, Harry had a feeling he would not like the outcome if he grabbed it.m

“Would you be willing to provide blood? That is another alternative?” Griphook cut in, linking his hands together and leaning forward as Harry turned to face him. 

“You can do that?” Harry asked, surprised. He knew he shouldn’t enquire further, all he needed to do was decline, leave and think of other ways to obtain money.

“Yes, would you like to proceed with this alternative?” There was a tone to his voice, a hum of something which Harry could not place. 

“Yes,” Harry said before he could stop himself, watching intently as the goblin before he reached into a draw and pulled out an old parchment. 

Griphook beckoned him forward, instructing him to lay his hands on the desk with his palms facing upwards. Without warning, Griphook waved his hand in an intricate formation and a small, diagonal cut was made across his right hand. 

Harry let out a wounded hiss but was promptly distracted from the pain of his new wound as tiny droplets of his blood floated away from his cut and onto the parchment. As his blood came in contact with the paper, it was absorbed and disappeared as if it were never there. 

Harry watched with fascination as black ink suddenly appeared and spread from where his blood once was. Harry hadn’t realised that he lent forward until Griphook snatched the parchment and shielded it from his view. 

He waited impatiently as Griphook stared at the paper; he glanced at Harry now and again until the parchment burst into flames and left a small pile of white ash. 

“Your identity has been confirmed, Mr Potter; how would you like to withdraw from your vault?” 

“How?” 

“We can make our way down to the main vault, or you can decide how much you wish to withdraw, and I shall collect it.” 

While Harry was overjoyed that his plan worked in the end, he knew not to push his luck so Harry chose the second option. Giving a quick nod, Griphook produced a small piece of paper and quill, indicating for him to write down the amount he wanted. Harry, not overthinking, wrote down any number that came to mind. 

Handing the paper to Griphook, the goblin informed Harry that he would be no more than five minutes before leaving him alone in the room. After he was left alone, Harry had a chance to look around the office. 

There wasn’t much going on in the small room. The royal blue walls were lined with shelves, housing artefacts and instruments that were unknown to him; most of the room was overtaken by a bookcase filled with old books and neatly stacked pieces of parchment. His gaze moved back to the desk, listening for the sound of footsteps before he shifted to look further at the piece of furniture. 

However, luck wasn’t on entirely on Harry’s side for Griphook was back in the room before he had a chance to investigate further.

“You’ll find all the money requested there, Mr Potter.” He said as Harry stood and retrieved the pouch. 

“Thank you.” Harry nodded as he was ushered out of the room, walked down the corridor, and taken to where he was collected. 

The two exchanged goodbyes, Harry saying his goodbyes and Griphook giving him a simple nod. Turning around, Harry clutched the bag of money tightly, finding himself soothed by the sound of coins rattling and the heaviness of the pouch, as he tried to ignore the hard stare of Griphook’s eyes that never left his back. 

Harry hurried down Diagon Alley, returning to the quiet alley and wrapping himself in his cloak. His original idea was to stay in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, but he decided against it, not only did he want to avoid being recognised, but he felt as though things were going too well. Therefore, he walked past the popular pub and looked for somewhere else to lay low. 

It had been another three days since then, and Harry had severely underestimated the money he needed. 

He had found a small inn not too far from the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had ignored the curious glances from those at the front desk, he hoped it was because a sixteen-year-old child who looked like he hadn’t slept in months was booking a room during the school term and not for any other reason. 

It didn’t help that Harry was either asleep or in an almost catatonic state for most of the three days. Sitting on a warm, somewhat soft bed made him realise how mentally and physically drained he was. It appeared that he also had time to process what was happening to him further; he thought of everything from being completely and utterly alone in an unknown world without a single ounce of help to Hedwig, his beloved owl and best friend, never being able to see him again.

After what seemed to be another round of endless tears, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed. He had spent most of the morning in the shower, not minding when the water turned cold; after getting dressed, Harry emptied the remaining coins from the pouch onto the bed and counted. 

He knew he had to return to Gringotts, but returning after such a short time seemed too risky. Harry knew he had no other choice because once he paid for another night in this place, Harry would be left with nothing.  

With no other option, Harry collected his belongings and left the room. He walked the dusty, carpeted hallway and down the creaking steps, ignoring the still curious gaze of the witch at the front desk. 

When walking down Diagon Alley, Harry chose not to wear his cloak, a risky decision but  no one would pay attention to him compared to people being moved by seemingly nothing if he had his cloak on. He reached the bank and went through the same process of waiting at the front desk and being sent to the benches. 

Harry noticed that he was waiting much longer than last time, and that uneasy feeling began to creep up his shoulder. Eventually, Griphook approached Harry but tensed when another man walked beside the goblin. The stranger was around average height with short, light brown hair and eyes that widened when he spotted Harry. 

“Mr Potter, this is my associate, David Vance. He also manages the Potter vaults,” Griphook informed him, the man’s gaze never straying from Harry as his eyes traced the lightning scar across his face and body.

“Hello,” Harry murmured, his hand itching to reach into his pocket for his wand or cloak. Vance nodded, a small greeting leaving his lips. 

“Is there a problem?” Harry continued, filling the silence. “I can come back if you’re busy.” 

“There is no problem, Mr Potter. If you could follow us, please.” 

Harry turned around, calculating whether he could leave the building, but Griphook spoke, sensing his formulating plan. 

“There is no need to feel panicked, Mr Potter. Not unless there is something wrong?” He cocked his head, his dark beady eyes watching the boy intently. 

“Of course not; nothing’s wrong.” Harry struggled to reply; his words stuck in his dry throat. 

“Wonderful, please follow us.” 

Griphook walked off, Harry having no choice but to follow as the still-quiet David trailed him. They walked silently, the only faint sound being the quiet inhalation and exhalation of Harry’s nervous breaths. 

“Are we not going to where we went a few days ago?” Harry questioned as the three walked past the open door of the office he was in a few days prior.

“I’m afraid not; it’s currently in use.” 

“Where are we going then?”

“Just in here, Mr Potter.” Griphook kept his back to Harry until he stopped and indicated towards a door. 

Harry did not like the door's look one bit. It looked like iron with a small plaque that Harry could not read from where he stood. Harry glanced at the goblin as the door opened. Inside was a small metal table and chair. The floor and walls were cold, grey brick. Flickering candles barely illuminated the room on the walls. 

“Have I done something wrong?”  It was silly for Harry to ask, but fear made him impulsive. It didn’t matter either way as he was ignored and requested to step into the room. 

Harry looked behind briefly and met the other wizard’s gaze. He did not attempt to hide the wand pointed directly at Harry.  

“Is this necessary? I’m not-”

“It would be wise to comply, Mr Potter; please enter the room and sit on the chair.” Griphook’s tone held no room for argument, a promise that forceful means would be used if necessary. 

Holding back his tears, Harry walked into the room, and a sharp chill washed over him. Hesitating, he sat on the chair, and when Harry was fully seated, he let out a surprised yelp as his wand shot out from his pocket and landed on the table, covered by what looked like a rippling blue shield. Harry was rendered helpless further as strings of gold magic wrapped around his wrists and thighs, preventing him from moving out of the chair and away from the table. 

Harry did not have a single opportunity to plead innocence as the door was slammed, and he was left in near darkness. 

“Hello?” Harry cried out, desperately trying to move away from the table, but found no luck. 

Harry continued his pitiful escape attempts for an unknown amount of time. The more he tried to escape, the more exhausted he became- like the gold magic was draining him. 

As he felt his body grow weaker, Harry was suddenly hit with a bust of magic- it felt like he was struck with a jolt of electricity. Feeling other people’s magic was every day among witches and wizards; extreme emotions, particularly anger, often resulted in magic becoming erratic. 

However, this felt entirely directed at him. Harry could feel the burning hot anger entering every pore of his body. It was suffocating him. 

Harry began to hyperventilate, choking on the magic filling the room. He was desperate to retrieve his wand and save himself. Harry could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as pleas broke from his throat. 

Harry had no time to register the door slamming open. 

He had no time to register the deep, unrecognisable voice. 

Harry had no time to register that he was looking into furious brown eyes that belonged to his father, James Potter, who had been dead for fifteen years. 

Chapter Text

Time stood stagnant. Father and son, green eyes met brown as magic entwined with anger, sadness and confusion. 

James didn't know what to make of it all; he hadn't prepared himself. He thought that Griphook was toying with him in some sick way, but there before him was someone looking like him but with fearful green eyes and going by the name of Harry Potter. The prospect that someone had stooped that low brought something out in James; a burning, white anger sparked within him.

James felt it infecting his veins, his blood, and every muscle. Griphook’s words echoed as he stared at the boy. He looked precisely how James pictured his son would look all grown up. While he seemed smaller in height- James himself being 6'1 "while Lily was 5'8 "- and appeared more sickly; he was a replica of the son James dreamed of raising.

James didn't know what to do with himself. He'd forgotten the essential functions of how to move, talk, and react in violent heartbreak. He desperately wanted to look away or hurt the wizard before him, but he stared at James with wide green eyes swimming with fear that once looked up at him in wonder.

"What." James' voice cracked, "What is this?"

As the words left his mouth, the boy sobbed, mumbling incoherently so that James could barely make out the words.

"This is not our doing, I assure you, Lord Potter." Griphook's voice travelled through one of his ears and straight out the other.

"Who are you?" He managed to get out, anger and sadness battling, so his voice came out hoarse.

The boy didn't answer him; he most likely hadn't heard the man over his sobs.

"Who are you?" He repeated, more forceful this time.

"Harry." The child whimpered, his eyes red.

"Harry?" James was scared. He didn't know if he could handle the following words that would leave his mouth.

"Harry Potter." The boy gasped, desperately trying to free himself from the golden ropes.

No. He was lying. He had to be; James would not accept that Harry- this boy- was his son. His son was resting peacefully by his favourite pond at home, safe from everything.

"Don't lie to me." James could feel a darkness growing inside him, rapidly overtaking the sadness.

"I'm not!" The child sobbed, "My name is Harry James-"

"Don't lie to me!" James slammed his hands on the table, making the boy recoil as much as the binds allowed him to.

"You are not my son. My son- My son died." Tears began to brim in his eyes, threatening to fall. "My son, my Harry, died ten years ago."

"No." The boy whispered, eyes wide.

"No? What do you mean no?" Brown eyes narrowed, locked onto the shaking boy.

"You're dead."

"What?" His eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"You're dead." The boy repeated, growing increasingly distressed. "I want to go home. Please let me go home now. I've had enough."

James couldn't move. A voice whispered to him that this was his son. From the way his hand tried to move towards his face but was prevented by the shackles, James knew that the boy would be aggressively wiping his tears away exactly like his boy would do.

You're dead.

That hit James next, and his magic reacted violently. It was a brief but powerful burst of heat hitting the boy directly.

Admittedly, he felt a little guilt when the boy was hit with the brunt of his magic. He watched as emerald eyes widened and rolled backwards before closing as he fell unconscious. He moved cautiously towards the unconscious body, tilting the child's head carefully to the side, allowing James access to the lightning scar that indeed travelled across the right side of his face, down his neck and peeking out on his wrist. He reached out, moments away from touching the jagged white lines, but drew back when the boy took a sharp breath.

James stood up and straightened his clothing. He briefly licked his lips and was hit with the sharp taste of salt. As expected, he wiped his fingers across his cheek, and tears ran down his face. Facing away from the two conscious people in the room, whom he had forgotten were there, James furiously wiped the remaining tears.

"I'll be taking him back to Potter Manor," James informed them, ignoring the hitch in his voice.

"Lord Potter-"

"Enough, Griphook. You no longer have jurisdiction or input on this matter." The wizard's gaze was cold as he turned around and regarded the Goblin. "If I require your assistance, I will inform you what I need from you."

"But James, if the kid is actually who he says he is…" David spoke softly, trying not to entice James Potter's simmering anger to the surface.

"If he is indeed who he says he is, then someone has been hiding my supposedly dead son from me; not only that, but making him believe that I was dead, that Lily was dead." The promise of fierce revenge was not lost. In his words, his eyes flashed with darkness. It reminded the two why James Potter had been allowed to stay neutral in this shadowed war for control.

David let out a sigh, rubbing his hand over his tired face. "I promise, this gets out to no one."

"The moment I believe otherwise, you'll find yourselves a part of an unbreakable vow." The wizard's voice was stern, his back still facing them as James stared at the boy.

"Lord Potter-"

"Is it possible to apparate? I don't want anyone accidentally seeing… this." James disregarded Griphook but turned around to give David a questioning gaze.

"Just down the hall, we can cast a disillusionment charm and take you there."

"Thank you. Did he have anything with him?" James moved towards the table, reaching out with a waiting hand to grab the boy's wand.

"We didn't have enough time to search him; the spell in the room only binds the individual and the wand," David admitted. Griphook remained silent, his face sour.

"Alright, how do I remove these binds?" As James asked, David stepped forward, and with a wave of his hand, James watched, fascinated, as the golden binds uncoiled around the boy's body and the blue shield disappeared.

Making his decision, James cast a sleeping charm on the boy and eventually picked up what appeared to be a hawthorn wand, placed it in his pocket, and lifted the boy bridal style.

He was light, worryingly so, but James didn't want to dwell on it too much- afraid that this was part of some fucked up trick. However, the ever-present maternal side sparked as he looked at his supposed son, and James was having trouble ignoring it.

He nodded at David, prompting the man to cast the charm. James shivered as he felt a wash of magic wash over his body. Ignoring the nerves simmering in his stomach, James followed the others out of the room. He was led down a corridor into a small room with coat pegs lining the side. The muffled murmurs of others speaking in the adjacent rooms agitated James, and he worried that if he could hear them, they could listen to his panicked and heavy breathing.

"This is it, and the charm should last five minutes," David said, glancing around the room to determine where James stood.

 "Thank you." James shifted the boy, holding him tighter as he moved to the centre of the room, "If I require anything from you, I'll contact you directly."

James didn't wait for any reply before he apparated out of the building.

As expected, his home was quiet when James returned. He still had a few hours before Lily would be home, meaning he had a few hours to hide a boy who looked like her child, a child whom Lily loved until time itself stopped.

With a shaky sigh, James walked up the stairs and to one of the spare rooms in the part of the house that was rarely used. He tried to ignore his tightening hold on the boy, the desperate need to hold him close to his chest and cast away all his worries.

After shifting the boy so he wouldn't hit his head on the door frame, James placed him on the bed and propped him upwards on the headboard. For caution, he rebounded the boy, which meant that James could finally inspect him more closely.

Undoubtedly, this was his son or what he would have grown up to be. From the freckles to the long eyelashes and the small bump on his nose, it brought up repressed memories, and in some cruel way, he could almost hear the pure laughter of his boy. However, there was the matter of the scar because there was no way James could have ignored it. It was scary to look at and welcomed an uncomfortable feeling into his stomach. It was almost a stark white, with jagged lines contrasting his dark skin. Whatever this resulted from, no matter who the child turned out to be, they didn’t deserve it.

James could feel the lines blurring the more he looked at him. He was finding it more challenging to separate his son and the child asleep on the bed; it hadn't even been ten minutes, and the struggle was agonising.

Not liking his growing feelings, James stood up and quickly wiped away any tears he had allowed to fall before moving to the window. He forced himself to look out to the fields surrounding the back of their home, no matter how much his mind was screaming at him to continue to look at the boy that was not his son.

James knew that he couldn't deal with this alone. He needed help, and it would not be Lily; James would ensure that she would only learn of this boy if he was their son. James may suffer at the end of this, but it was worth it to keep Lily happy.

He tried to avoid it, but his mind kept returning to the option of Sirius. Mary was out with Lily, and Marlene and Dorcas were at work. It was too close to the full moon, so Remus would be tired and stressed enough as it was. It seemed that life just wanted to make his family suffer by having his son's godfather be the only one available.

With a deep sigh, James left the room and spared a glance at the still-unconscious body. His stride was fast as he made his way to the central fireplace, crouching down as he threw floo powder into the flames and called out Sirius's name.

"Sirius, I need you." He called again, eventually seeing Sirius walk over.

"Wow, Prongs, I didn't know you felt that way." Sirius grinned as James watched his best friend crouch down to stare at his friend in the flames, not paying attention to his distressed face. "But we're both in committed relationships here-"

"Sirius." James snapped, mentally reminding himself to apologise to Sirius as he watched the man flinch.

"I need you to come through." He hadn't hoped to stress Sirius out more than he already had, but from the other man's face, James guessed he wasn't doing an excellent job.

"Is everything okay? What's happened? Is Lily okay? Let me go get Remus-"

"Don't get Remus!" James grimaced as he lurched forward to stop Sirius, and his forehead collided with part of the fireplace. "I can't… I can't tell you what’s happened through the floo; it'll be safer if I show you."

With a hesitant nod, Sirius disappeared from view, and James moved away from the fireplace. He paced around the room, deciding and rehearsing what he would say to his best friend.

James had less than a minute to review everything he needed to say. The floo roared to life, and Sirius stumbled out of the green flames and onto the carpet. James watched as grey eyes frantically assessed his body for any indication of injury, relaxing when he saw James unharmed.

"Will you please tell me what is going on? What can't I tell Remus?"

"I can only show you, but I promise I'm not hurt." James attempted to appease Sirius' nerves, but the other man was still tense.

Sirius watched James for a moment before he gave a hesitant nod and followed James when he walked off; Sirius remained silent, and James could feel the curious gaze locked onto the back of his head. Before he opened the door, James turned around slowly.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, for what you're about to see, but I need you to try to stay calm."

"Prongs-"

"Promise me, Sirius, please," James begged.

"I don’t like this, James, but I promise." Sirius was lost, concerned about his friend's strange behaviour. It wasn't until James moved out of the way that he finally understood.

"What the fuck."

James watched in silence as Sirius processed what he was looking at, his eyes flickering with the same emotions James felt no more than an hour ago. 

"James, what is this?"

"Do you remember a few days ago, when I got that letter the night you visited?" Sirius nodded, his eyes not leaving the unconscious body. "Someone had been taking some money out of our vault. They wouldn't tell me about it at first, saying that my blood was used."

"Your blood?"

"I asked the next time this happens to hold the person until I get there, and that's who I saw."

"James, he looks like-"

"He looks like Harry. He sounds like Harry. He says his name is Harry James Potter, and I'm supposed to be dead."

"You're joking?" Sirius choked out, and James could see the tears welling in his grey eyes. Guilt pierced James's heart at having put Sirius in this situation.

"When I found out, I was all over the place. I didn't know what to do, so I brought him here."

"James…"

"What is anyone meant to do in this situation? I couldn't tell Lily; I needed someone, so I flooed you. I'm sorry, Sirius, It was all too much-"

"Don't apologise, James. We'll figure this out." Sirius reached out, grasping James's arm, but he was still not looking away from the boy on the bed.

"There's veritaserum in Lily's office; we can get answers through that."

"Alright, we can do that." Sirius gave a slight nod, his brow furrowing briefly, "Have you thought about what's going to happen after?"

"Honestly? Not a single thought. I can't handle that right now," James admitted, falling quiet momentarily as he stared at the bed, his eyes avoiding the sleeping figure. “The potion should be in a black bottle with a gold cork on Lily's desk."

 Sirius crept out of the room, and with how fast he returned, James knew that he had most likely ran to Lily’s potion room and back.

"Thank you," He murmured, clutching the bottle. "I'll wake him up and see if he wants to talk on his own; if not, we'll use the potion."

"You seem very calm about this," Sirius commented, watching James approach the boy and double-check the bindings.

"I'm not, Padfoot; I've just… repressed it."

"I don't think that's healthy."

"Whatever comes out of this won't be healthy for the both of us." James snorted, his face severe, before turning to his best friend. "There are two main ways this could go. You realise that, Sirius?"

"Either that's your son, or someone's going to find themselves in a lot of pain." Something flashed across Sirius’ face, whether anger or something different; James knew that the man was speaking no lie. "And we'll deal with this together."

"Together." The two looked at each other, James grasping Sirius's hand tightly.

With Sirius's hand squeezing his shaking one, James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, still not letting go of his hand. He waved his wand, and the binds remained on the boy, but they noticed that the rise and fall of his chest began to quicken. For a moment, nothing happened; the room was silent as tension began to thicken. Eventually, the pained groan filled the room, and the boy's eyes flickered as he awoke.

"Ron?" The boy mumbled, and Sirius and James glanced at each other, a silent communication of confusion. Finally, the child's eyes were wide open, looking around the room in a dazed state before green eyes settled on the two before him. James squeezed Sirius's hand with force when he heard the sharp intake of breath.

"Sirius?" The boy whispered, making both men tense up.

"Oh merlin, Sirius." The boy began to sob, and James couldn’t do anything. He was immobile as he watched a child sob, and his best friend took a small step back as he choked back his cry. It was all too much. He had to make it stop. He couldn't handle the sobs, the screams that sent him tumbling back to that day, back to the day he lost his boy. The sobbing boy began to struggle, his breaths growing shorter as he let out apologies, begging Sirius to forgive him; James desperately wanted to let him go, free him from the binds and whisk him away to his mother, who always knew how to comfort his child with nothing more than a look.

A potion bottle touched his lips, and James allowed the liquid to fall down his throat, the strong taste of lavender heavy on his tongue. His calm was instant, his body relaxing as he came to his senses.

He looked around the bedroom and saw that the boy had stopped crying and kept his eyes on the bed, a light purple liquid on the corner of his mouth. In contrast, Sirius looked at James with red eyes and tear tracks down his cheeks, a splatter of calming draught staining his shirt.

"That went well." Sirius held the calming draught in his left hand and the now-opened veritaserum in his right.

"I'm so sorry, Sirius. I'm sorry-"

"Don't James. We didn't know he was going to react like that."

"Why was he apologising to you?" James looked at Sirius as if the man himself would know the answer to James’ question.

"We're about to find out." Sirius lifted and shook the half-empty potion bottle from side to side. The two adults turned to the boy; he was looking at the two of them as he shifted sluggishly.

"Don't bother lying or trying to attack us; it won't end well for you" James attempted to sound intimidating, but the calming draught slurred his voice slightly. "Do you understand?"

The boy nodded, still looking at the bed.

"What's your full name?"

"Harry James Potter." James wanted nothing more than to call the boy’s bluff already.

"When is your birthday?"

"31st July, 1980."

"Who are your parents?"

"James and Lily Potter." James forced himself to go numb; if he allowed his emotions to get the better of him, then the boy would already be in his arms, being reassured that his father was here and he was safe.

"What happened to your parents?”

"They were murdered." James was positive that his breathing stopped; he could make out the sound of a bottle hitting the floor.

"How?"

"Voldemort killed them when I was one." Harry's voice was monotone, but he could tell the boy was becoming increasingly distressed after each question.

Nothing was making sense; his son died when he was six. He lost his boy when he was six because, at a year old, Harry was chasing their cat and babbling pure nonsense. For a moment, for a singular moment, James believed that his son was alive, that everything had been orchestrated by some fucked up individual that found joy in his constant suffering but failed. 

"Are you from here?" Sirius suddenly cut in, and James could tell that something had clicked within the man.

"No."

"What do you mean no?" James questioned, but Sirius stepped slightly before him, disrupting his view of the boy.

"How did you get here?"

"I was sat in the cell in the bank-"

"Not this house. How do you get to our world?" Sirius questioned, desperation and what appeared to be happiness in his tone.

"Our world? Sirius, will you please tell me what is going on?" James snapped, growing frustrated, which only increased when Sirius raised a hand to silence him.

"The mirror of Erised. The mirror pulled me through, and I ended up here."

James had no time to process anything before Sirius had cast a charm, and the boy was unconscious again. Sirius rushed out of the room, ignoring James's plea to stop and moving toward the library.

"Sirius Black!" In all his time knowing Sirius, it must've been the fifth time he had ever shouted at his best friend, "You tell me what is going on!"

"I will-"

"No. You will tell me now." He snapped, blocking the door of the library. "There is someone upstairs, pretending to be my son, who also managed to lie-"

"That's the thing; he didn't lie," Sirius explained, pushing past James. He is who he says he is."

"What in merlin's name do you mean?" James asked, watching as Sirius began to scan the bookshelves.

"His name is Harry James Potter." Sirius laughed breathlessly, turning around to face James with a smile, but he paused when he saw the other man's other man's blank but equally angered face.

"Is this some joke to you?" James asked, his lip curling into a slight snarl, "Are you even Sirius?"

"Of course I am." Sirius huffed, moving towards James but hesitating when the other stepped backwards and pointed his wand toward Sirius.

"What happened in that one potion class in the first year?" James demanded, refusing to put down his wand.

"Prongs…" Sirius rolled his eyes and held his hands in surrender when James did not back down, "Alright, fine, I would tell you, but it was so embarrassing that you made all of us vow never to repeat it."

With that answer, James lowered his wand and relaxed considerably.

"I had to be sure; you aren't exactly acting the way you should, " James said with a shrug.

"Neither are you." Sirius countered, "Wait until the calming draught wears off, and then we'll act more appropriately."

"I'll give you that one; now, please tell me what's happening."

"Of course." Sirius nodded, taking one final glance at the bookshelf before heading to the plush armchairs in the corner of the room.

"Okay, so I'm not sure how to word this." Sirius frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck in contemplation.

"Just give it to me straight," James replied, practically throwing himself onto the chair.

"Well, to put it bluntly, the kid is from a different universe, dimension, or world, however you think of it." The look James gave Sirius showed that in no way was he believed, "I read it once, in the Black Library, and it just stuck with me; so, there's an idea that there's magic out there so powerful it's able to transport individuals to alternate realities; put it this way, if you chose to go right instead of left, there's an alternate reality of you choosing left instead of right."

"So you're saying…"

"It's possible that it happened to him. He's not our Harry, but he's a Harry. And from what we got upstairs, I'm guessing that for some reason-"

"Voldemort seemed to be a lot more prominent, and he killed us," James spoke quietly, and suddenly things began to click into place.

"I could be completely wrong; it's only an idea. A theory with no evidence other than old books in my library."

The two fell quiet, unsure how to move on. The possibility of the boy upstairs being a version of his son was enough for James; the idea that he had been gifted another chance with his son to make up for being unable to protect him all those years ago was enough to allow his maternal instincts to go into overdrive; the need to tuck him into bed, kiss his forehead and wish him sweet dreams was building with each moment. Of course, if Sirius was right, there's the fact that a version of his son grew up without him and without the love that only Lily and himself could provide. It did not sit well with him in the slightest.

"You understand, right Prongs?" Sirius spoke intently at him, "That I could be completely wrong."

"I'll understand as long as you do." James raised a brow, knowing he had caught Sirius up, as he could practically smell the hope emanating from his best friend.

"Touché, Prongs," Sirius replied, leaning back in his chair and glancing at the ceiling. “Do you know what we're going to do with him?

 "I have no idea. I can't tell Lily, and I can't put her through anything like that." James sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair.

"When is Lily home?"

"What's the time?" James asked, believing to have a few more hours until Lily came home.

"Five to seven."

James shot up from his chair, cursing as he looked at the clock that indeed showed the time Sirius had said.

"Merlin, she should be here any minute; I swear it just turned one o'clock when I got back, and I flooed you not long after."

"No, you never flooed me at half one." Sirius looked at the frantic James with confusion.

"What? I did." James paused, turning to face Sirius.

"No… you called me at half five, Prongs." The wizard said slowly as if explaining something to a child.

"I swear I did. I took Harry upstairs and looked at him for only a moment."

"Are you sure it was only for a moment?" Sirius's voice was quiet, his gaze worried.

"I… It's not important. What's important is that we need a solution. Now."

The two fell back into silence, their minds filtering for any solution, but of course, they were unsuccessful as they heard the bang of the front door opening and closing.

"Jamie, I'm home!" Lily's unsuspecting and joyful voice echoed throughout the library.

Chapter Text

Panic was all that James could feel; it had hit him like a particular nasty stinging hex that would not disappear. He barely had a second to think of what he would say to Lily and communicate that with Sirius.

“James?” Lily called out again, her voice getting louder. “Are you home?”

The two men looked at each other, both lost for words, as Lily appeared in the doorway, jumping slightly when she noticed  Sirius was in the room.

“Sirius, what are you doing here? “ Lily looked at Sirius confused before her face went blank as her eyes landed on James. “You’ve been crying.”

“Oh, I just stubbed my toe a few moments ago.” James tried to brush his wife off, but with Lily’s pointed look, he knew she didn’t believe him.

“Don’t lie to me, James, what’s going on?” Lily frowned, moving closer to the two.

Sirius hesitated, glancing at James, who lifted his hand as a warning to stay quiet. James knew it was pointless to lie to Lily; she had always known when he wasn’t truthful, but he liked to think he was a little trickier to read.

“It’s nothing, Lily, don’t worry.” His smile was forced as James approached her, hugging and kissing her on the forehead.

“It’s nothing?” She huffed, moving away from James and crossing her arms, “You know you’re a shit liar, James?”

“Don’t worry, Lily-” Sirius piped up but stopped when Lily shushed him.

“Don’t bother, Sirius. You’re just as bad at lying.”

The pair went quiet, unsure what to say that would get Lily to believe them. In the five seconds of silence, Lily knew well enough that the two were hiding something, and it seemed she would not be getting anything out of them.

“It’s obvious that you two aren’t telling me something, " she began, watching the pair stiffen as she spoke. It was quiet as she stared at the men before a sigh left her mouth. “I won’t push you to tell me, but promise me, James, that whatever you’re hiding won’t send you to Saint Mungo’s.”

“I…I can’t promise that, but I will tell you as soon as possible.” James’s smile was slight but sincere.

“James Potter, you cannot just say that and expect me to be fine.” Lily gave a short laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I take back what I said about not pushing.”  

She raised an eyebrow at the two men, tapping her foot on the floor as she waited: the other two cast their gazes down, neither looking at Lily.

“Well? I have all night.”

“Lily, please just trust me with this.”

“I do trust you, James; I just don’t appreciate secrets being kept from me in response to my question about why you’ve been crying.”

“I should go,” Sirius muttered, “Remus is probably wondering where I’ve gone.”

Lily’s expression indicated that she didn’t want Sirius to leave, but her gaze softened at the mention of Remus.

“Give him my best; let me know what potions he needs after the full moon.”

“Will do, Lily Flower.” Sirius walked over to Lily, briefly kissed her cheek, and gave a side hug before looking at James, a silent promise that he’d do some research and a plea for James not to do anything irrational.

“I’ll walk you to the fireplace.” James walked past Lily but stopped when her hand landed on his chest.

“Sirius is a grown man; he can walk there himself,” Lily huffed, quickly casting Sirius an apologetic look. “He’ll use that as an excuse to escape, " she explained.

“Don’t worry, James, I’ll make it to the fireplace safely.” Sirius grinned, though his smile did not reach his eyes.

James gave Sirius a weak nod as he left the room; Lily continued to stare at him while his eyes were glued to the doorway, his gaze only faltering when he heard the floo activate.

“It’s obvious you don’t want to talk about this now,” Lily whispered, rubbing her thumb on James’s chest, “I’m going to have a shower, and I expect some explanation when I get back, okay?”

James hummed, looking down at Lily, and smiled at her as he nodded.

With a smile, she kissed his cheek and left the room; James waited a few moments, making sure he heard the shower starting, before heading towards the kitchen. He stood by the cupboards in contemplation before blindly grabbing their food and a water bottle from the fridge. He went to the bedroom and opened the door to see that Harry was still sleeping.

He quietly placed the food on the bedside table, placing a charm to preserve it for when the boy woke up. James didn’t expect him to eat it, so he hoped it would be seen more as a peace offering. He then placed charms on the windows, preventing them from opening and locating any object that may aid the boy’s escape.

Deciding that there was nothing of use, James walked over to Harry and removed the binds, another attempt to build a little trust. He looked over the sleeping boy, reminding himself that the teenager’s wand was in his pocket and posed no threat. As his eyes assessed Harry, James noticed a slight bulge in his pocket and what seemed to be a piece of clothing. As James grabbed the cloth, he froze at the familiar feeling. It was an invisibility cloak. As he was done, he rubbed the fabric with his fingers, pulling it out of the pocket. There was no denying this was the Potter cloak; the patterns were precisely like the one in his cupboard, and even the tiny Potter emblem could be seen sewn into the fabric. He watched his hand disappear and felt the slight chill on his skin.

James’s gaze travelled to Harry’s face, memorising every detail. James could hear Lily walking around the house as he stared, knowing it was time for him to leave and try to face it all tomorrow. He stood up but didn’t move away from the bed; James couldn't help himself as he reached a hand to the boy's face, lightly traced a finger over the lightning scar, and moved a piece of curled hair that would no doubt poke the boy in the eye once he awoke.

“We’ll both get our answer tomorrow,” James murmured, moving his hand away. “I promise, Harry.”

He left the room, not looking back as he shut the door. With another wave of his hand, James recast the locking spell and hid the cloak and wand in one of the drawers in the hallway cabinet. Straightening out the non-existent creases in his clothes, James walked to Lily’s potions room, where he found her shuffling about.

“Are you ready to tell me yet?” Lily commented, not turning around to face James.

However, James walked up to Lily and spun her around without saying a word. He kissed her slowly, a kiss full of love that caused them to smile until James’s smile turned to a hiss as Lily pinched him on the arm.

“Don’t distract me, Potter; you’re not escaping this discussion.”

“I wasn’t trying to distract you,” James grumbled, rubbing his arm dramatically. “I just wanted to give you a late welcome-back kiss.”

“Sure.” Lily hummed, slightly moving away from James. “While I appreciate the welcome home kiss, you must tell me what’s happening.”

“I just can’t-”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” Lily cut James off, watching as his expression showed hesitation.

“You won’t then.” She concluded after James’s continued silence.

“Lily…” James sighed, not knowing what to say.   

“I just worry that you have everything bottled up in here,” Lily lightly tapped James’s forehead with her hand, “And you’re not letting me help.”

“The same could be said for you.” James countered, copying Lily and lightly tapping her forehead back.

“We are not turning this onto me, Mr Potter.” Lily raised a brow as James gave a sheepish look.

“Sorry, Lils. It’s just…” James hesitated, unsure what to say. “I want to tell you, but it’s…”

“It’s best if I don’t know for now.” Lily finished as James trailed off.

“Yes.”

“You know I don’t like that.”

“I know.”

“Just promise me, James,” Lily murmured, cupping James’s face. “That when it gets too much, you’ll tell me; that’s all I ask.”

“I promise, Lily.” James sighed, resting his forehead against Lily’s. The two looked at each other, enjoying the simple comfort of the action alone.

“Now come,” Lily’s eyes lightened as she grabbed James’s hand. “I’ve brought back some cake and have things to gossip about with you.”

“Cake and gossip.” James gasped mock, resting his hand on his chest as he looked at Lily with adoration and excitement. “My favourite evening activity, Mrs Potter.”

“What can I say? I’m just an amazing wife.” Lily grinned, pulling James out of the room and to the living room.

As Lily turned her back to him, James’s matching grin faltered. He looked in the direction where Harry lay sleeping, a voice in the back of his mind echoing the boy’s words.

Harry was no stranger to pain after sleep, the familiar feeling of stiffness after a particularly harsh nightmare. He groaned, his back aching as he rolled from a sitting position to his side; he buried his face into his pillow and inhaled. Harry went to burrow deeper into the comfort of the quilt but stopped. The pillow smelt strange; it was a scent he didn’t recognise, and as the haze of sleep left his mind, the texture of the bed covers felt off, too.

Harry slowly opened his eyes, immediately noticing that he wasn’t in bed, and upon realisation, everything that had happened returned to him for the second time in a few days.

His dad. His godfather. The crying. The veritaserum. His dad. While Harry has undoubtedly ended up in ridiculous situations, meeting his dad was something he’d never guessed.

As expected, Harry needed to cry, sob, scream or find any way to express his feelings. He’d already cried too much, and the constant stream of tears wouldn’t get him the answers he needed to get back home; plus, Harry could feel his face was swollen and the remnants of his dried tears. Harry looked around the room and spotted a small mirror on one of the walls above a dresser. He pushed himself up, his arms shaking as he moved off the bed; Harry winced as he stood tall, his legs also weak and throbbing with a dull pain.

He shuffled over to the mirror and grimaced when he looked at his reflection. Harry looked awful, to put it simply. His hair was greasy, his eyes puffy with dark bags, and he looked thinner than usual. He lifted a hand to his face, ignoring his limbs trembling, and lightly traced his scar to see if it would start to sting. When Harry didn’t feel the familiar spark of pain, he turned from the mirror and wandered around the room.

It was clear Harry was in an old house. The bed Harry woke from was like his own at Gryffindor Tower, but instead of reds and oranges, the room was white with accents of muted green; the room seemed to bring a feeling of calmness to him. He moved to the window; as expected, it was locked, but Harry could admire the garden. His view was undoubtedly beautiful, even if the flower beds and bushes were preparing for the spring. Harry could picture what the place would look like in the warmer months as it blended seamlessly with the vast countryside; the only indicator of where the grounds ended was a broken wooden fence in the distance. While the surrounding fields did not explain where he was, Harry just wanted the opportunity to calm down and appreciate the view.

Harry spotted the food on the bedside table next, his stomach rumbling as he moved closer. There was undeniable temptation to eat the food; Harry hadn’t eaten in days but was too nervous to bring it to his mouth. Harry doubted that he would even be able to keep it down and would promptly throw it up afterwards. Not only that, but he didn’t trust the food for fear of being poisoned or laced with something not enjoyable.

Once Harry assessed the room, there was nothing else to do; the windows and door were locked, and the drawers came out empty. Therefore, Harry sat on the side of the bed, furthest away from the door. He sat silently, his mind full of useless escape plans and ways to deal with seeing his dad and Sirius, to the point where Harry wished desperately to be sent back into unconsciousness.

There was no doubt that seeing Sirius again would be more painful than seeing his father. While Harry had a part to play in both deaths, Sirius’s demise had been entirely his fault. Although others had tried to convince him otherwise, if Harry hadn’t made reckless decisions, hadn’t gone to the Department of Mysteries, had just used the mirror, had just listened, then Harry wouldn’t be in this mess.

While mulling over his decisions, Harry didn’t hear footsteps growing louder until he heard something being opened in the hallway. Panicking, Harry reached into his pocket for his invisibility cloak, knowing he didn’t have his wand, and let out a slew of curses when his pocket was void of the cloak. He quickly looked around the room, trying to find a suitable hiding place. Eventually, Harry settled on the wardrobe and practically threw himself into the dusty furniture. He stood motionless in pure darkness, barely closing one of the doors before the door opened, and someone walked through the threshold.

The footsteps were heavy, pacing quickly around the room before stopping.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” His father's deep voice was softly spoken as if speaking to a wounded animal.

Harry stayed silent, ignoring the dust that slowly crept up his nose. He had never heard his father’s voice before; it was already a comfort that Harry didn’t know he needed.

“I’m sorry for how things went down, but I’m sure you can understand why my reaction was so… extreme.”

Harry could understand; he could remember being told that wherever he was, he had been dead for the last ten years. Harry had many questions he desperately wanted answers to, but fear choked him.

“I’m not sure about you, but I don’t think the wardrobe is a nice hiding place. Under the bed would be my go-to place.” Harry could hear the gentle smile accompanying his father’s words and realised he desperately needed to witness it.

Of course, Harry had to sneeze and bang his forehead on the wooden door moments after.

“I bet that hurt.” His dad commented, and Harry bristled in pain and annoyance.

“No shit.” Harry snapped, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth and eyes widening.

It went silent for ten seconds, and Harry stood frozen as his neck ached at the awkward angle.

“Alright, I deserved that.” James chuckled, “Why don’t you come out from there? I’m sure you’re hungry?”

“I’m fine.” Harry bit out, tensing as he heard a sigh and footsteps.

“I don’t believe you. I’ve moved to the door. Is that better for you?”

His voice appeared quieter, so Harry slowly pushed the door open and peeked his head out, instantly landing on the wizard. It was creepy how similar the two were. Sirius and Remus had told him multiple times of his similarities to his dad, and with only word of mouth and a few photos, Harry never really took their word for it. Even when he saw the figure in the mirror, Harry was sure that the object had created a form of who he had wanted to see. He was taller than Harry and looked healthier overall, but apart from the eyes, Harry would’ve guessed he’d be looking at the older version of himself.

Harry knew if he had any tears left, they would cascade down his face. Just looking at someone who claims to be James Potter, his father, was enough to start breaking down the walls Harry had built up since he arrived. He was ready to tell the man everything, beg him for the chance to experience father and son activities, things he’d dreamt of doing since he was a boy, since he’d seen Dudley doing those things with Vernon.

“It doesn’t seem comfortable standing like that,” his dad said quietly, prompting Harry to emerge and show more than his head.

Knowing he had no choice, Harry stepped out of the wardrobe and walked quickly to the side of the bed where he once sat. Harry watched warily as James nodded his head, a silent thank you and well done before his eyes landed on the uneaten food.

“You need to eat.” He suggested picking up the food and water bottle, placing them on the centre of the bed, something briefly flashing in his eyes as Harry moved back.

“I’m not hungry,” Harry mumbled, wringing his hands together and wincing as his stomach grumbled again.

“Really?” His dad raised an eyebrow, “I haven’t poisoned it if that’s what you’re worried about.” He added as an afterthought.

Obeying an adult was always something Harry could never ignore, something heavily installed by the Dursleys, so he reached over and snatched the food and bottle up. The moment Harry brought the food to his lips, it was gone; he groaned as the taste hit his tongue, and he almost forgot to swallow what he was chewing. The water went just as quickly, Harry gulping it down desperately, not realising how hungry and thirsty he was.

“Would you like anything else?” Harry snapped his eyes to the other and flushed in embarrassment, completely forgetting he was there.

Harry shook his head, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” His dad looked concerned, considering how fast Harry had just devoured the food.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, well, if you need anything else, just let me know.”

Harry nodded silently, the two falling into awkward silence. Unsure of himself, Harry sat on the bed and faced his father. The man looked at him with an unfamiliar expression, and Harry realised that reading his father’s emotions would be pretty tricky. However, Harry could tell by the man’s fidgeting that he, too, wanted to sit on the bed.

Eventually, he did ask. “Is it okay if I sit down, Harry?”

Again, Harry consented through a silent nod, tensing as the wizard sat cross-legged on the bed, thankfully right near the edge.

“Harry, please explain to me how you found yourself here.” He began, looking at Harry with a small, comforting smile. “You mentioned something about a mirror yesterday.”

“Yeah, the mirror of Erised.”

“And that you’re from a different world,” James paused, debating whether to continue. “and I’m right in saying I’m dead?”

Harry avoided eye contact, went quiet, and eventually shut his eyes. He still didn’t know if this was some trick or if everything was still some ploy from Voldemort, and he would enjoy watching Harry talk of his parent’s death.

“We don’t have to talk about that.” His dad amended, reading Harry’s body language. “Can you just tell me how you got here?”

“I came across the mirror, and it made me see and hear Sirius,” Harry paused, hearing his breath hitch. “Sirius had died a little while ago, and I haven’t been dealing with it well, and a fucking mirror took advantage of that. It all went to shit one night, I didn’t plan on going to it, but I ended up there, and all I remember are hands. Hands grabbing me and pulling me through the glass.”

Harry didn’t know why he was so open about what happened; maybe it was his subconscious, recognising that his father was sitting beside him. He turned to the other man; his gaze was blank as he listened to Harry, but his eyes were equally gentle but distraught. At Harry’s silence, he nodded slightly, encouraging the boy to continue.

“I woke up in this abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley and spent a day or two there. I had this idea that Voldemort was messing with me or that I was somewhere where I wasn’t-” Harry stopped, careful not to give away too much in fear of this all still hallucinating. “I thought that since I’d seen posters of Professor Dumbledore and Voldemort, well Riddle, then a version of me must be here, so I decided to go to Gringotts, and I ended up here.”

Harry kept his head down, allowing the room to silence again. He wasn’t sure how long it stayed that way, but Harry could feel his dad looking at him intensely.

“Thank you, Harry.”

Harry was surprised to hear that; he was expecting denial, accusations of lies, or even Voldemort's cruel laughter as he listened.

“I believe, well, Sirius believes,” His dad began, taking an opportunity to move forward slightly. “That the mirror you encountered was a powerful piece of magic that transported you here.”

Harry didn’t entirely trust what he said, but it was a better alternative to Harry’s explanations.

“In this world…my Harry died.” His dad said quietly, his hazel eyes glazed over, obviously caught in a memory.

Harry’s eyes widened at the information. It was strange for Harry to hear and understand that a version of himself had died. Surprisingly, Harry wasn’t all that shocked, having been told much worse over the years. He could only guess that the idea of a chosen one was absent or that the title belonged to someone else. Harry wanted to ask how he had died, but his dad had excused him from talking about his parents, so it was only fair he did the same for him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, not all that sure what to say about what was essentially his death. Instead, he change the subject to something he had been dying to know. “Does Voldemort not exist here?”

His father hesitated, finding the right words to say. “It’s… complicated to put it mildly.”

“Does it have to do Tom Riddle being Minister? What about Dumbledore? The order of the Pheonix, if you know what that is-”

“Slow down, Harry.” His dad held his hands up to calm him, a small chuckle to accompany. “There’s a lot you and I need to know, but now that it’s confirmed you’re my- our son, we need to tackle some other things first.”

Harry felt odd at his words, he could already tell that the man before was speaking as if Harry was going to stay wherever he is. The voice in the back of his mind was begging him to stay, to be with his dad and Sirius, but Harry had to get home. He couldn’t leave everyone to face Voldemort; he couldn’t leave Hermione and Ron, and he certainly couldn’t leave Remus all alone.

“I need to go home.” Harry expressed, “You have to help me go home to my friends and family.”

Something flashed in his father’s eyes, Harry could not picture such look in his eyes. James stared at Harry in silence, clearly lost in thought, before he snapped out of whatever he was thinking.

“Of course, we’ll figure out how to get you home.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but Harry ignored it.

“Thank you,” Harry said, sincerity in his voice.

His dad nodded, and it went quiet. The two sat on the bed, a considerate distance still between them. Harry wasn’t sure what to think; the realisation that this was now Harry’s reality was still lagging behind a little. 

“You’re rather calm about this,” James commented as if reading Harry’s thoughts.

“I’ve been through a lot, so being shocked at things happening to me has mostly depleted.” Harry shrugged, not seeing anything wrong with what he said, but coughed awkwardly when his dad frowned.

Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye; the other wanted to say something but didn’t have the right words. Eventually, his dad looked at the watch Harry hadn’t noticed on his wrist and got off the bed.

“I need to go for a moment, but I’ll be back.” He told Harry, looking at his watch once again. “Would you like anything else to eat?”

“I’m fine.” Harry smiled.

“Are you certain? I can get you anything else you need.” 

“Where is my wand and cloak?”

“They’re safe.” Harry didn’t like how vague that sounded, but he knew he could not do anything else. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” Harry shrugged, finding the floorboards rather interesting.

He bid Harry goodbye and left the room. He waited for a few moments before going to the door. He pressed his ear to the wood and heard the muffled sound of his dad walking away. He tried the doorknob, but, as expected, there was a lock and charm.

Accepting that he was trapped in the room, Harry moved to the bed and lay in the centre. He didn’t want to think over everything again and needed silence, an escape for only a few moments. Harry closed his eyes to get that silence, he did not expect to fall into a restless sleep. 

Harry became aware that he had fallen asleep when he was startled awake by a commotion outside his room. Harry shot up from the bed, he moved to the window, squinting as the setting sun shone though the window. 

The door slammed open, and Harry gasped, not at the door almost flying off its hinges, but rather that Lily Potter, his mother, was standing in the doorway. 

Harry had always dreamt of looking at his mum face to face. Looking at Lily Potter was as if Harry was looking at the stars during a clear night: she was beautiful and, to Harry, perfect in every way. Even as her face switched from anger, confusion and sadness, Harry wanted to fall into her embrace and experience the love of a mother, his mother, for the first time in years. He wanted to give her all the Mother's Day cards that Petunia had thrown in the bin. He wanted to give them everything he was denied. He wanted to share it all and receive their love in return.

“Mum?” Harry finally whispered, his throat getting tighter as sobs threatened to escape.

“Harry?” she whispered back, her whole body shaking as she stumbled forward. Reaching out, she cupped Harry’s face.

His mum's voice was different, so soft and gentle that it soothed him; it was so different to the pleading he heard whenever dementors were near.

“Mum.” Harry breathed out, scared to reach out if she wasn’t real.

“Harry.” She repeated, lightly squeezing Harry’s face, most likely to also determine whether he was real.

“I’m sorry.” A hundred different things to say were going through Harry’s mind, and that was all he could manage. It did something to her as Lily broke out into sobs, repeating his name over and over again. Harry was thrust into the crook of her neck, overwhelmed by a floral scent as a hand clutched the back of his head.

“My little boy.” She sobbed; anything else Lily said became incoherent. Harry clutched her tighter, his hands latching onto her t-shirt as he, too, began to cry.

“Mum.” That was all Harry could say.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” His mum sobbed, burying her face in Harry’s hair, “You’re here.”

At some point, the two of them had fallen to the floor. It was all a blur, and Harry couldn’t hear what was said, comprehend what was happening, or even understand that he was in his mother's arms. His mum was finally holding him after years of wishing. Harry would be a sobbing, distraught, broken wreck if his dad were to hug him now.

Harry found himself being pulled back, making a sound of discontent. The hands-on his face returned, and Harry looked at his mum’s face again. She was wiping away his tears, and Harry could count every freckle on her face.

“My beautiful boy,” Lily smiled, tears still falling down her face as she caressed Harry.

“You’re real.” Harry didn’t ask a question; it was a demand that his mum be here and that he be in her arms.

“I’m real.” Lily pulled Harry back into her neck, holding him close. The pair continued to cry for however long, and Harry could feel his body becoming heavier as fatigue infiltrated his mind. He could hear voices, but it was as if Harry was submerged underwater and couldn’t make out what was being said. The hand on the back of his head began to move, stroking through his hair, prompting him to give in to sleep.

The voice telling him not to go home seemed to get a little bit louder as Harry fell into unconsciousness.   

Chapter Text

Riddle Manor was a cold place; no matter the candles lighting the rooms or warming charms cast on every surface, a chill would always lurk underneath the polished cabinets.

Severus Snape was no stranger to the chill. Holding a high rank within the inner circle belonging to the Minister of Magic beckoned him to the property several times throughout a week. Typically during the day, but having been summoned well into the night, he knew something had gone wrong.  

The wizard knocked once on the door, waiting for it to open and welcome him into the study that suffocated him with raw and dark magic. He walked in quietly, standing before a large mahogany desk before bowing and casting his eyes to the floor.

“Severus.” Tom Riddles' deep voice travelled across the room as he sat in a leather chair. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“Anything for you, Minister.” Severus murmured, knowing that was his queue to look at the man. He always understood why the public grew attached to Riddle; the man exhumed power and a dark, forbidding sense of safety; he was handsome too, young when he rose to power and could subtly manipulate the naïve who needed a figure to rely on. Of course, they’d never seen the darker side of their beloved minister, a side only reserved for his closest allies or enemies, and thankfully, Severus was lucky to find himself on the allied side.

“Something happened a few days ago, Severus.” The wizard paused, growing quiet for a moment. “Something that I couldn’t find my own explanation to.”

“Sir?”

“I found myself unwillingly unconscious, Severus.” He sneered, the candles flickering as Riddle grew angry. “I tried to figure out why, tested my blood, interrogated anyone that had touched my food or interacted with me, but I was hitting dead end after dead end.”

Attempts on the Minister’s life weren’t anything new; it was almost as regular as he visited the manor. However, they were all futile attempts, a weak poison or spell that would do no damage to a man like Riddle. Some, however, had managed to come close, and it never ended well for anyone involved.

“I’m assuming that’s why I’m here.”

“Yes, because something was taken from me.” If it was possible, the man grew angrier, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk.

“Taken?” That explained a lot to Severus; the msn had been off the last few days, not calling any meetings within the inner circle and being notably harsher to anyone who angered him.

“Yes, Severus, my magic, well, a slither of it.”

Severus froze, unsure as to how that was possible, while cursing whatever fool had decided to attempt such a feat on someone who had no worries in killing or torturing without so much as a blink.

“Can you explain what happened, sir? I’ll be able to look more into what happened.”

“I was standing by the bookshelf and then on the floor. No dizziness, no headache, no pain.” Severus knew this was playing on Riddle’s mind relentlessly; to experience something so weak was not something he took lightly. “But I felt the emptiness afterwards, and I just knew that someone had taken my magic.”

“How long were you unconscious for?” 

“Two minutes at most.” Riddle leaned backwards, idly playing with the bone-white wand from his desk.

“I will look into it, I promise I will find an explanation to this event.” Severus bowed, his mind full of possibilities as to what happened. The whole prospect of it all was unheard of, for Riddle to be able to feel someone take his magic, for someone to be able to take some of  it, seemed an omen that things were about to change, changes that Severus wanted no part of. 

“See to it that you do.” At the dismissal, Severus turned and walked out of the room, pausing just outside as Riddle spoke again.

“I don’t expect anyone to know of this, Severus.”

The wizard didn’t reply, walking down the hallway to the fireplace, still thinking of every possibility to get this ended before anything began.

There were only a few things in life that James would never forget; while his wedding and the birth of his son were two examples, these last few days added to that list.

To watch his wife and son crumble to the floor, sobbing in each other's arms as Lily comforted the child, would forever be ingrained in his mind. James had always wished to see the two most precious people interact again, but it was not the scenario he’d imagined. He wanted tears of joy, not tears of pure agony that should never fall from a boy's eyes after seeing his mother.

Lily hadn’t believed him at first. James had tried to tell her carefully, but he knew no matter how he told her, it would sound absurdly cruel: to say to a mother that her dead child had been in her house for over twenty-four hours was inhumane. James knew he’d never forgive himself for watching Lily’s face contort from anger to horror to rage. When that anger had returned, she had slapped James across the face, sobbing for him to deny what he had just said, and when he couldn’t, James held her. He held her as she hit his chest and repeatedly commanded him to stop whatever he was trying to do.

James had tried to calm her down, to keep everything somewhat under control, but when the location of Harry fell from James’s lips, Lily was gone; she was running towards the room, James in quick pursuit. The wizard heard the door slam open and the silence that followed. He heard their quiet, disbelieving voices. He listened to the sobs that echoed throughout the house. He heard it all.

The memory remained fresh in his mind, replaying when his thoughts grew blank. That had been two days ago, and the three of them had been stuck in some strange limbo, unsure how to move forward.

In the end, James and Lily took a few days off, claiming a family emergency. It was a risky move, knowing that people would begin to sniff around, wanting to know what was going on in the Potters life. James had not heard from Sirius at all; he was grateful for it, wanting to be kept in the dark if his friend had found away to send Harry home.

In less than 72 hours, James was wholly devoted to his son. His paternal instincts went into overdrive the longer the timid boy stared at him with green eyes. He knew Lily was the same, and he’d watch her hand twitch, aching to run her hand through his hair or hug their son at any moment.

As the days passed, some things became noticeable. If James were to drop something or shut a door loudly, he would flinch; if they moved too quickly, he would flinch; if it became too quiet, Harry would go stiff and watch the windows and doors, waiting for something to jump out at him.

James and Lily hadn’t spoken about it, but a silent communication had been made between the two. They would tackle it eventually, to understand what their son had gone through, but for now they wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

The trio were  sat in the main living room. James and Lily had been attempting to get to know their son and his past for the last few days, but the boy gave little to nothing regarding the latter. It broke James, concluding that his son may not have lived the life he deserved. He tried not to feel anger towards the rest of his family; he didn’t know who was alive and who wasn’t in Harry’s world, but the fact that there could’ve been a reality where Harry was mistreated by them was tough to acknowledge.

“Harry?” James whispered, careful not to scare the nervous boy fiddling with a stray thread on the sofa. “How would you feel about meeting everyone else?”

“Everyone else?” Harry asked softly, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“The rest of your family,” Lily spoke up, and James noticed the movements of her hand and the shifting of her body.

“I can see Sirius and Remus?” Harry perked up at that, his gaze a muddle of pain and excitement. James had only wanted to see excitement, but to see that pain served as another reminder, one that Sirius was dead and that his son had no one. 

“Your grandparents, too, as well as Marlene, Mary and Dorcas.” James reminded Harry, hoping that the boy had accidentally forgotten the others.

“My grandparents?” Harry asked, looking more confused, “I know I have grandparents, but I’ve never met them or the other three.”

“You…You don’t know who they are?” James was at a loss, looking at Harry with growing dread. “Mary McDonald? Marlene McKinnon? Dorcas Meadows? Those names don’t ring a bell?”

“James,” Lily spoke softly, touching his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled, drawing into himself. 

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” Lily reassured him, James following up with an apology. They grew quiet, unsure how to continue the conversation, until James perked up with a smile.

“How about this,” James waved his hand, and a picture appeared. “Why don’t you tell me who you recognise in this.”

The photo in question had everyone, and James watched quietly as Harry stared, carefully grazing the edges with his fingers.

“I recognise you two, Sirius and Remus,” Harry mumbled, his eyes narrowing as he looked more intently at the paper. “I’m guessing these are my grandparents, and the three women do look familiar; I think Padfoot showed me a picture once.”

“You’ve never met them?” Lily whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I’m assuming Sirius was named Godfather?” James cut in, trying to push down the anger at Harry’s nod. James knew why he was angry; why would any version of Sirius keep Harry away from family and subject his godson to a life without those who loved him most?  

“Did Sirius not introduce you to them when you were growing up?” James knew that he could no longer dance around his sons past, instead he had to get answers outright, for the sake of everyone. 

“I didn’t.” Harry spoke up, looking at his parents nervously, “I didn’t grow up with Sirius.”

“What?” That was all James could say; the hope he clung to crumbled at that moment. The boy before him didn’t know his parents, grandparents, godfather and everyone else. The boy in front of him grew up with someone James did not know or trust to look after his son. The fear that his son had been mistreated began to creep back into his mind, he wanted to ignore it but all possibilities pointed to it. 

“Dad?” A small voice cut through every thought going through his mind,  the depressing reality bouncing in his mind vanishing into thin air as he heard that singular word. James longed for that word to be directed at him solely, to listen to the sweet and innocent voice speak it. Of course, his son in front wasn't as innocent as his six-year-old boy, but it was perfect. 

It was likely that the look on James’s face did not mirror his emotions as Harry’s face morphed into horror. 

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to call you that-” Harry had no time to finish his meaningless apologies as James pulled him into a tight hug. As expected, Harry tensed up and seemed ready to escape from the arms that held him. James would curse himself later for not letting the boy go, but as his nose buried into his son's hair, inhaling the scent that perfectly fit Harry, James felt he could not let go. His emotions got the better of him as he felt Lily’s arms warp around the two.

They were all crying, but neither of the three cared- their emotions had been on overdrive these last few days and crying was something they had been doing consistently. There was something so right about their hug, the love that cascaded over them like the tears running down their cheeks. Nothing was said, but it was more than enough. The silence continued for well over five minutes; the two adults' tight grip never faltered; the hug only ended when they felt Harry go limp, and when the two pulled back, they were met with their son asleep on James’s chest. 

Quietly, the two moved the teenagers so he was lying down on the sofa, laying a blanket over him and watching intently as he snuggled into the softness of the furniture and let out a small sigh. 

“I lied to him, Lily,” James mumbled, holding his wife’s hand. 

“About what?” She whispered. 

“I promised I would send him back home,” James brushed his thumb over her hand, “but I can’t; I don’t want to send him home.” 

“James…”

“Why can’t he stay here? Why does he want to go home if we’re not there.” James’s voice cracked,  and he breathed deeper

“Family isn’t defined by blood, Jamie. You know that.” James did know that, of course, but it wasn’t something he wanted to acknowledge; he understood that his son would have people he considered family, but the idea of Harry sitting out of arms reach was torture.

“Trust me, James, I don’t want him to leave as much as you do,” Lily reassured him, letting go of her husband’s hand as she walked closer to Harry. “But we can’t keep him here for our selfish reasons.”

“They’re not selfish-”

“Just as we’ve found comfort in others, so has Harry.” Lily brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, brushing any hidden knots and smiling as Harry leaned into her hand. “If we make him stay, he will be thrust into a world he knows nothing about.” 

“But he’ll be safe! I know…” James faltered, unsure how to go on. 

“We can’t predict what’s going to happen with Harry.” Lily cut in, “He may not be able to go back or he may have no choice. We can only tackle what comes day by day.” 

The couple fell silent, aware they had much to say but couldn’t find the words to speak. 

“How are we going to explain this to everyone?” James eventually sighed, sitting down next to the slumbering Harry. “That’s if he’s comfortable to meet them.” 

“If Harry agrees, then I’ll tell them.” Lily decided, rolling her eyes at James’s head shake. 

“No, I’ll do it. You don’t-” 

“James Potter.” Lily huffed, James closing his mouth quickly and staring at his wife wide-eyed. “While I adore and fear your habit of putting others before yourself, you have dealt with enough, and it’s my turn to handle things.” 

“Fine.” James huffed, accepting that Lily wouldn’t budge. “How are we even going to do this?”

“We’ll bring them all here, keep them separate from Harry and tell them.” Lily shrugged, “We’re a bit tight for options since a family reunion at the Leaky Cauldron is off the table.” 

“It shouldn’t be this difficult.” James murmured, “and to think that he’s lived a life without us, living with Merlin knows who.” 

“I don’t think it's been happy one either.” Lily tried to tuck Harry in further, but he was already covered enough and so her attempts were futile. 

It wasn’t long before Harry woke up, flushing in embarrassment as his gaze landed on his parents. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, sitting up and resting his back on the cushions. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Never apologise, honey.” Lily smiled and looked at Harry carefully before her smile dimmed. “Now, as we’re at a bit of a cross road with the others in our family, we’re going to have to deviate from our initial plan.”

“I’m sorry-” Harry’s face became distraught before he paused, surprised to feel James clutching his hand.

“How about we limit you saying sorry to twice a day?” James chuckled as the flush on Harry’s cheeks returned.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Harry whispered, a small smile appearing as James made a face in disagreement.

“We’ll see about that.” James countered, turning to Lily and gesturing for her to continue.

“Well, your dad and I would like to introduce you to them.” Lily’s smile was reassuring, wary of worry on the boy's face, “They know you, well, the Harry from this world, and I know they would love to meet you.”

“You don’t have to,” James added. “If you are uncomfortable with that idea, you can just see Sirius and Remus.”

Harry’s face grew pensive, lost in his thoughts. He was quiet momentarily before his gaze snapped to the pair, and he hesitantly opened his mouth.

“What happened?” Harry began, his face morphing into a slight grimace, “To your Harry, I mean?”

The room's tone changed; a sad look crossed James and Lily’s faces as they looked at each other.

“He died when he was very young.” Lily spoke softly, “But he’s safe and resting now.”

Harry nodded, knowing that discussing dead family was not a pleasant experience. To be reminded that someone you love is no longer around was something he’d dealt with for the majority of life. He couldn’t deprive his family, a different world or not, from having the chance to see him again, even if he did not know them. 

“I’d like to meet them. I want to meet my family.”

It didn’t take long for the voices to travel into the kitchen. James and Harry had moved there once Lily sent a patronus to everyone: requesting their immediate attendance, but giving no explanation as to why. As the floo went off several times, James only had to hear his son's quick breathing to summon a small vial of calming draught and infuse it into a cup of tea for the boy. His son took it with a grateful thank you, sipping the hot drink carefully. 

“You okay, Harry?” James asked as he watched harry sip his tea and intensely watch the kitchen door.

“Did you put something in this?” Harry replied, James noting the instant calmness of his breathing and slumping of his shoulders. 

“Just a little calming draught from your mothers potion room,” James rubbed his neck, suddenly feeling very guilty at the deception. “It’s nothing too strong but I should have told you either way, I’m sorry”

“Don’t worry about it, there was a rumour going around at school that some girl was trying to slip me a love potion, so there’s worse things to worry about.” 

The nonchalance of his sons comments truly surprised James each time, to be so carefree about someone slipping such a potion truly amazed him. 

“As much as I would… love to come to know who would do such a thing and why you’re so calm about it all, guessing by the silence, everyone must be here and Lily is giving the news.” 

It had indeed gone silent; so silent that James could probably hear the spiders scurrying along the walls rather than the muffled talking and movement beyond the kitchen.

“Do you have anymore of the calming draught, you might need it.” Harry piped up, sipping his tea as wide eyes looked at James. 

“That’s a very good idea.” 

“Maybe something stronger too.” Harry added as James waved his wand and summoned another bottle.

“Already thought of that sunshine.” James smirked, ruffling Harry’s hair before leaning down so he’s eye level with him.”I won’t be more than a few minutes. Just shout for me if you need anything, okay?” 

He left the room at Harry’s nod, quickly walking down the hall as he clutched the vial tighter when he could finally make out raised voices. James could feel the magic seeping out of the room, emotions too high for any possibility of control.

James waited a few moments before slowly opening the door, not surprised when all eyes were on him. It was uncomfortable to have several angry and confused gazes focused on himself and Lily, especially from his family. 

His mother and father were sat on one of the sofas, his mum clutching his dad’s arm tightly. Remus was also sitting, Sirius hovering close to him. Marlene, Mary and Dorcas were close to the floo, likely prepared to leave as soon as however Lily had broke the news was proved false. 

“Tell me it's not true, Jamie.” His mum whispered, her voice cracking and eyes welling with tears.

“I’m going to need you to take this calming draught,” James said, his voice holding no room for argument. “Harry’s had some, but he’s still nervous, and I don’t want to make this worse for him.”

There was an intake of breaths; James’s answer proved everything was true. The silence was tense, everyone taking small sips of the potion until the bottle returned to James, taking his own sip for good measure.

He observed them all, walking forward to grasp his wife’s hand tightly. “What Lily has told you is true; our son is in our kitchen, and we are still very much in the dark about it all.” James knew he’d be laughing at the absurdity of his sentence if the calming 

“You realise how insane this sounds?” Dorcas snapped, her eyes still red from crying.

“Would you like us to take some veritaserum?” Lily suggested, raising her wand, ready to comply with whatever would be demanded of them. At Lily’s statement, James could see the reluctant acceptance of their words, the offer to go under a potion where lying was futile was enough for them to know that this was all a reality. 

“You don’t need to take anything,” Fleamont said, standing before James and placing his hand on his face.

“It’s him, Dad,” James whispered, looking at his father with intensity. “It’s Harry.”   

His father hugged him, holding him tightly as he reached over and embraced Lily. He eventually pulled away, still looking into James’s eyes, “Take us to him.”

James gave his dad a grateful smile, moving backwards as his dad moved back to the sofa.

“Harry is our top priority right now.” James addressed the room, “I know you’ll want to hug him, but hold on for now; wait until he’s comfortable with everyone.”

“He’s not been surrounded by the family he should have been,” Lily added, walking over to the others as she all gave them a brief hug. “James and I will go in first, then Sirius and Remus.”

“He doesn’t know us?” Marlene murmured, wrapping her hand around Dorcas’s arm, as she instantly understood her friends words. 

“As we said, we’re very much in the dark about everything, but we know he barely knows of you,” James confirmed, embracing his mum as he addressed the four Harry saw as strangers. “Sirius and Remus, however, have played a more significant part in his life.”

The two in question exchanged looks, there was no doubt that Sirius had confessed everything to Remus, it was impossible to ask the man to keep something from his husband. He did feel terrible for the pair and Harry, both having experienced different parts of each others lives, and the reality being that they were as much strangers as the others. 

They silently walked down the hall until Sirius quickly grabbed James and pulled him behind.

“Have you had a chance to look into anything at all?”
“Its not been one of my priorities, Padfoot, I can’t lie.” As much as he loved Sirius, James really wanted him to be quiet; he couldn’t bare the idea that Sirius had found a solution in the endless Black Library. 

“Well, I have a few theories-”

“Let’s wait a while before we look into everything that you’ve found.” 

“This is a cruel thing to say James, and I’m sorry to say this, but you can’t get too attached.”
James knows that Sirius means well, coming out of a place of love and  concern in seeing his friends and himself becoming attached to his son who could very well vanish the next day. 

“James?” Lily called from where she stood in front of the closed kitchen door, cutting off whatever James was going to say. 

“Come on.” James gestured for Sirius to follow him, the two approaching the front. “We can talk about everything soon.”

“James and I will go in first,” Lily told the others. “Sirius and Remus will follow, and then everyone else.”

“It’ll all be okay, just take things slowly and try not to overwhelm him and yourself.” He added before following Lily into the kitchen and shutting the door quietly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Lily spoke softly, Harry staring at his half-empty cup of cold tea. The boy looked up quickly, scared out of wherever his mind was.

“I’m okay.” He coughed awkwardly, looking embarrassed as his parents watched him with concern. 

“The others are waiting outside,” James told his son, watching as he tried to fidget inconspicuously. “We’ll let you see Sirius and Remus first, then your grandparents, Marlene, Mary and Dorcas.”

“That’s if you’re comfortable too.” Lily reminded him, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, we know you’re meeting a lot of people all at once.”

“I want to, I promise.” Harry smiled nervously, his finger tapping the wooden table repeatedly. “I’m just nervous.”

“Would you like to take some more calming draught? I can go get some.”

Harry shook his head, adamant that he was fine. James and Lily took a little more convincing, but they eventually believed their son, reminding him he was in control.

Lily stood up quietly, heading towards the door and opening slowly. “Remus? Sirius?”

James watched as Harry stood up straighter and moved to the edge of his chair, ready to go as soon as Sirius and Remus came into sight. As James predicted, as the two men stepped into the room, Harry was already jumping out of his chair and into Sirius’s arms; out of reflex, Sirius wrapped his arm around Harry and pulled him closer, though his body was stiff as a board. 

The only two words Harry managed to get out was I’m sorry. He repeated it over and over, obviously not planning on letting go anytime soon. Sirius didn’t seem to be doing well either; his grip on Harry could be borderline painful, and James had to refrain from pulling the two apart and snipe to Sirius not to get too attached, but he didn’t. 

Remus followed when Harry noticed he was there. Harry had launched himself into the other man's arms, and Remus hugged back, though not as strong as Sirius as he was still weak from the full moon. Their reunion carried on for a few minutes, the calming draught restricting the tears that would fall from their eyes. James and Lily said nothing, content to watch the beginning of their complete family.

“You’re okay, Harry,” Sirius murmured, stroking Harry's hair as the boy returned to him for a hug.

“It’s all my fault.” Harry mumbled as Sirius glanced at the others in confusion, but they could only shrug their shoulders, also unaware of what Harry was talking about. 

“Nothing’s your fault, sweetheart, absolutely nothing.” Sirius continued, pulling away from Harry and cupping the boy’s face in his hands.

“I killed you, Padfoot.” Harry looked directly into Sirius's eyes, his green ones reflecting how much he believed his statement.

“He’s here now, Harry.” Remus cut in, brushing Harry’s hair, knowing that Sirius would struggle to reply. “We’re all here.”

“You’re not real; this is all some trick,” Harry whispered, most likely to himself. James had hoped the boy would finally believe that everything happening around him was real, but he did expect that Harry would need a few more convincing attempts.

“Ouch!” Sirius suddenly yelped, rubbing his arm with wide eyes as he looked at Remus. “Why’d you pinch me?!”

“If this weren’t real, Sirius would be fine.” Remus shrugged, looking at Harry warmly as the teenager chuckled.

“It doesn’t work like that, moony. You know that!” Sirius pouted, but as his eyes landed on the smiling Harry, his pouting morphed into a smile.

“Right, let's move on,” Lily huffed, smiling at the two. “I don’t want you fighting in my kitchen.”

“Sorry, Lils.” Sirius grinned before he became hesitant. “Are we going to call the others in now?”

The adults watched as Harry tensed, the joy replaced with nerves.

“That’s if you would like to, Harry.” James asked, standing in front of Harry.

“I would like to.” He whispered, staring up at James.

“Alright, but remember the moment you don’t want to, you tell us.” James reminded him, smiling when Harry nodded.

James glanced towards Lily, moving towards the door at her nod. He opened it, ensuring Harry was obscured from the group waiting on the other side. James was met with several gazes locked onto him, waiting anxiously for the green light to meet Harry. 

“Harry would like to meet you all,” he said reassuringly. “However, like I said in the living room, please keep things calm, it will be better for all of us.”

James didn’t tell the others of Harry’s reaction to Sirius and Remus, knowing that they too would want the same reunion, but since they would not receive that, James kept them in the dark.

“Of course, anything for Harry’s sake.” His mother said softly, smiling at James in understanding.

Breathing in deeply, James gestured for the group to follow him. They followed him into the room quietly, James quickly moving to stand at Harry’s side, Lily on his other as she rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder; Sirius and Remus were sat at the table, waiting and watching quietly.

“Harry,” Dorcas said breathlessly, clearly speaking for the others, frozen in shock.

“Hello.” Harry whispered, looking nervously at those standing in front of him.

It went quiet, no one knowing what to say, neither James nor Lily wanting to say anything that would make things more awkward.

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbled eventually, avoiding eye contact entirely. “About not knowing who you are, I mean I do, but not very well.”

“Oh, honey.” Euphemia cooed, stepping forward slightly but holding herself back, “Never apologise for something like this; you’re here now; that’s all that matters.”

“I’m still sorry-”

“I thought we agreed to limited apologies, Harry.” James winked as Harry’s face went flush.

“Word of advice, Harry.” Marlene snorted, shaking her head at James. “Never agree to do anything with your dad; he never forgets.”

“I promised to do his homework for a year when Lily agreed to a date,” Remus reminisced, a smile on his face. “I said that in first year and he never forgot.”

“Alright, enough of that.” James sighed, pretending to look hurt. “I’m trying to build a good image of myself for my son.”

“To be fair, so are we.” Mary shrugged, “We’re just trying to ensure we’re number one on Harry’s list.”

“I don’t get why any of you will attempt to be number one,” Sirius snorted. “It’ll be me.”

“You wanna bet on that, Sirius Black.”

“Oh, you bet I will, Mary McDonald.”

“Well, while they bet on Merlin knows what,” Fleamont spoke for the first time since entering the kitchen, “I’m returning to the living room because I’ve been standing up for far too long. Would you like to come, Harry?”

The boy was startled at the question, focused on Mary and Sirius, bickering to notice. James felt a tug at his heart when Harry looked up towards him and then Lily, a silent ask for permission.

“Yes, please.” The boy replied when James and Lily both nodded.

“Wonderful, let’s go before they decide what to bet on, hopefully it doesn’t involve you.”

“We’ll follow you in just a moment,” Lily whispered to Harry, gently pushing him forward with her hand before turning to speak quietly to Remus. James’s parents left the room, Harry following quickly, along with Marlene and Dorcas, who had rolled their at Sirius and Mary’s antics. However, they weren’t quick enough to leave as Mary and Sirius objected, following after them.

“Did you know Harry, when Mary was fifteen-”

“How about this, Harry, when Sirius was twelve he got-”

James smiled as his sons laugh echoed through the hallway, loud enough to be heard over Mary and Sirius’s embarrassing stories. As he watched his family leave the room, everything felt like it had fallen into place; he had his wife, son and the rest of his family again in the same room.

Though he knew it wouldn’t last, his son couldn’t appear from a different reality and have things go smoothly. They’d have to face something soon enough, to face whatever magical forces decided to take his family’s happiness away once more. However, James wasn’t afraid to face the consequences this time, not when he finally had his boy.

Chapter Text

Harry never would have thought a library would become a place of solace. He could already picture Hermione’s smug face as she learned he’s spent most of his time next to endless shelves of books. He wouldn’t need to imagine her smug face, however, if he managed to get home so he could tell her himself; that is if Harry ignored the nagging feeling that his world didn’t feel so much like home anymore.

The idea of what he once considered home was a blurring line, unsure what direction it was taking Harry in. Harry had two directions so far, to live the life he’d lived for fifteen years, or start over in a world where Voldemort is Minister and he had died but was now able to open every waking minute with his family. While the latter sounded much more appeasing than a Dark Lord hell-bent on killing him, Harry had no life, no friends, no life to carry on with. Of course, Harry could just run away and begin a whole new life as a muggle, but he didn’t think he’d get too far with that way of life- his parents would most likely track him down in a matter of days if not hours. 

So, to keep himself occupied until he made his life altering decision, Harry mindlessly wandered the library, hoping to find anything to spark his interest. On his third loop around of the place, he eventually came across a small alcove; a small table below a window, and the setting sun seemed to almost point to the papers on the surface. As Harry moved closer, he was met with a newspaper that had the face of Voldemort printed on it. It was still strange for Harry to see, to gaze at the older but equally handsome face he had witnessed in the chamber of secrets.

Harry moved the paper closer, wanting to read whatever header was printed in bold letters.

Minister Riddle to make a speech at the Ministry.

“You’ve found my hiding spot, I see.” Harry jumped, startled by the voice of Sirius and as he spun around Harry found his Godfather standing right next to him. 

“You’re going to give me a heart attack, Sirius.” Harry clutched his chest, dramatically breathing in and out. 

“Don’t worry, kid.” Sirius snorted, giving Harry a pat on the back. “You’ve still got a few more years before you need to worry about that,” 

“So you’ve started to worry then?” Harry ducked away from Sirius’s attempt to flick his year. “Why is this your hiding spot anyways, this isn’t your house.” 

“Because your father can be an annoying pest sometimes, and he never steps foot in a library unless necessary. I switch between here and my library, I even get the prophet delivered; which you have in your hand, anything interesting?” Sirius took the paper from Harry’s hand, looking at it for a few moments. 

“The Prophet worships him. It’s quite ridiculous.” Sirius snorted, handing the paper back to Harry.

“It’s just strange,” Harry said, staring at the smirking face. “What with my Tom Riddle being Voldemort.”

“Does he look like that?” Sirius asked, surprising Harry as the boy did not think he would ask that.

“Merlin, no.” Harry laughed, imagining the reptilian man on the front page instead. “he’s an ugly bastard.”

“I think I would prepare your Riddle then,” Sirius shrugged, picking the paper up and turning it over, “It’s such a shame that our Tom Riddle is a handsome bastard.”

Harry mumbled incoherently, still picturing the sixteen-year-old Riddle.

“He flirted with me once at a ministry gala.” Sirius looked rather proud of himself as Harry gave him a shocked look. “Of course, he was only trying to get some information out of me, thinking I would cave for some handsome man.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Harry shook his head mockingly.

“Have some faith in your godfather.” Sirius gasped, resting his hand on his chest. “I didn’t tell him anything, and beside Moony is the only handsome man I’d tell my secrets to.”

“Sorry for doubting you, Padfoot.” Harry laughed, a fondness blooming as Sirius spoke of Remus.

“Apology accepted.” Sirius huffed, and Harry saw Sirius glance at him from the corner of his eye.

“What about you, Harry?” Sirius smiled slyly, looking at Harry with a knowing look. “Any girlfriends or boyfriends?”

Harry coughed as his cheeks grew red, deciding to turn around and inspect the books.

‘Nothing really, I haven’t had the time.”

“Oh come on,” Sirius nudged him slightly, “there has to be someone, even a baby crush in first year.”

“I kissed a girl in my fifth year.”

“Let me guess,” Sirius hummed, “You were at this party, all drunk and caught in the moment?”

“Uh, no.” Harry grimaced, unsure whether to lie, but his brain already seemed to make that decision. “It was in front of a picture of her dead boyfriend, who I, now looking at it, had feelings for as well. Petti- I mean Voldemort killed him in front of me.”

The silence that followed was awful, Harry refusing to turn around and look at the expected horror across Sirius’s face. The silence continued for a few moments, Harry growing more nervous and restless until he couldn’t take anymore.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know why I said that.” Harry sharply turned around, looking at the floor. “I should have just lied. I-”

A hug silenced Harry, something that seemed to be happening a lot now. He was wrapped in the tight grip for a while, Harry overwhelmed with his godfather’s cologne. 

“How about we talk about something else, huh?” Sirius smiled, brushing the curls of Harry’s hair out of his face.

“Such as?” Harry tried to hide his surprise, expecting Sirius to question what he just said, wanting to know word for word what had happened to him

“Tell me about your hobbies. I’m hoping you like Quidditch?”

“But don’t you want to know?”

“Know about what?”

“What I just said! About Cedric, about Voldemort, about everything!” Harry scoffed, stepping away from Sirius.

“Let’s sit down, Harry,” Sirius spoke softly, gesturing to the two chairs at the table.

“No.” Harry shook his head, stepping away. “Tell me why you don’t want to know.”

“I’m not going to demand you tell me these things”, Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “From what I - we have gathered, you’ve gone through things that no child should have to go through, and I know what it’s like when you’re forced to talk about things you don’t want to.”

Harry had not expected that, he was so used to people demanding answers from him, that the idea of Sirius allowing him to go at his own pace was strange. As strange and relieving as it was, the urge to speak what he needed to say could not be ignored. 

“I want to tell you what happened in my life, I want to see the judgement in your eyes when you know what’s happened; before I get more attached than I already am.” 

“Nothing will change what we think of you, Harry.” Sirius’s smile was small but emotional. “You can do the most horrendous thing known to man and we would still think of you as the sun, all the way to end of time and longer.” 

“That’s probably not healthy.” Harry snorted, his heart beating at sincerity of  his godfather’s words. 

“We only have one life, there’s no time to be healthy all the time.” Sirius shrugged before staring at Harry in silence for a few moments. “Would you like me to get everyone?” 

Harry sighed, nerves rumbling in his stomach. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Alright. Head into the main living room, and I’ll grab everyone.”

Harry nodded, breathing deeply as he turned and walked amongst the bookshelves and out of the library. Maybe his mindless wanderings were useful after all. 

Harry found himself alone for no more than 10 minutes, nervously waiting as he heard voices and footsteps.

The door slowly opened, and Harry was met with the faces of his mum and dad and then everyone else. 

“I thought some of you had work?” Harry asked, watching everyone sit down as he sat alone next to the fire place.

“Work can wait.” Dorcas waved her hand, brushing away Harry’s concern. “You’re more important.”
Harry blushed, fiddling with his hands as everyone looked at him silently, he knew no one would say anything, leaving Harry with the task of choosing where to start.

“I’m not sure where to begin.” Harry chuckled dryly, rubbing his neck in contemplation. “It just, all I ask is that we leave most questions and reactions until last.”

“Of course, honey, and why don’t you start with whatever you’re comfortable with.” Lily smiled softly, leaning forward slightly.

“Alright, well, have any of you heard a prophecy?” Harry asked, internally sighing at everyone’s confused faces, “About a chosen one born when the seventh month dies? About having the power the dark lord knows not, and how neither can live while the other survives?”

“We know nothing of the sort,” Remus informed the boy. “The department of mysteries is a lot more tight knit here, only Riddle and Unspeakables have access to them.”

“It’s about you and Voldemort, isn’t it?” Marlene spoke up, catching on very quickly and glancing at Harry’s scar. “Born when the seventh month dies.”

“Well, Voldemort made the assumption it was me.” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, “Mum and Dad caused a bit of trouble and they quite a powerful pair.”

“I can’t believe - a grown wizard thought a child would kill him?!” Harry expected he’d already sent his poor father into shock, and they weren’t even five minutes in. 

“Pretty much, Sirius said you went into hiding a few months before I was born.” Harry paused momentarily, wondering if this was all still a good idea.

“Who told him where we were?” James asked, his now face void of emotion. “I’m guessing we put enough measures not to be found.”

“Everyone thought it was Padfoot. He was the original secret keeper.”

“What?” Sirius looked heartbroken, his eyes wide with disbelief, “No version of me would ever-”

“You didn’t, don’t worry.” Harry reassured his godfather, “You swapped with Pettigrew.”

The atmosphere grew thick with tension at Harry’s words, and everyone appeared straighter in their posture.

“Is Pettigrew dead here?” Harry asked, thinking that it was most likely the case.

“We don’t know; we haven’t spoken to him for a decade and plan to continue not speaking.” It was clear Mary spoke for all the adults in the room as the others nodded their heads.

“A story for later?” Harry asked, immediately sensing that no one wanted to talk about the man who appeared to be a traitor in every possible reality.

“A story for later.” Mary nodded.

“Alright, well, Pettigrew revealed where you were and,” Harry paused, breathing deeply. “Voldemort came on the 31^st of October, 1981. From what I’ve been told and seen, Dad tried to fight him off, but he’d left his wand in the kitchen. He told Mum to take me and run before Voldemort killed Dad and cornered Mum in my room. She begged him to spare me, but he refused. He cast the killing curse, and the next thing you know, Mum's dead, and he’s vanished. Meanwhile, I’m left with this.” Harry pulled his hair out of his face and lifted his hand, gesturing to the white lighting scar across his body.

Harry didn’t blame anyone for not talking. They were most likely still trying to comprehend what they had just heard; someone’s son, daughter-in-law and best friend being murdered wasn’t exactly what people wanted to hear, let alone those people being in the room. Harry could understand, but he still felt somewhat uncomfortable, never knowing what to say when needing to comfort another.

“What happened after?” Marlene’s voice was quiet, an underlying shake to her words.

“I was sent to the Dursleys.”

“The Dursleys? What do you mean you were sent to them?” Lily asked, tears in her eyes as she looked at Harry with desperation.

“Well, with Sirius in Azkaban, Moony dropping off the face of the earth, and everyone being dead or unable to care for me, they were the best option according to Dumbledore.” Harry shrugged. He didn’t want to go into too much detail, but Harry knew he had to give some to satisfy everyone. “They never told me about magic; to them, I was just a bad smell they couldn’t get rid of.”

“Oh, Harry…” Harry felt uncomfortable at his mother’s pity; he had been shown pity many times throughout his life, but to have it come from his mother was foreign to him.

“It is what it is, I can’t change what happened to me. Sure, they affected my life in certain ways, but I’ve learnt to ignore what trouble they caused in my life, and as far as I know, I won’t be seeing them ever again.”

“It doesn’t make their actions right-”

“I know that, but like I said there’s nothing I can do about that part of my life other than move on.” Harry didn’t particularly want to talk anymore about his life at the Dursleys, he knows how they’ve treated him is abhorrent, he doesn’t need another reminder. “I’ll be… happy to talk about them another day but I’d like to talk about first year. We have a lot to get through.”

“Of course, sweetheart; questions and reactions later.” Harry felt guilty at his mothers own guilty eyes, but he had to carry on.

“First year wasn’t too eventful. I was wrapping my head around everything to do with magic, but I met my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.” Harry smiled widely as he mentioned his two friends, ignoring the tugging feeling of loss because they weren’t sitting with him.

“We’ve met Ron a handful of times, but that was only as a baby if we passed Arthur or Molly at Diagon.” 

“Do you not know them well?”

“The family’s too much of a Dumbledore supporter for us,” James explained, a small expression of disdain flashing on his face. “I don’t recall any family named Granger, however.”
“She’s muggle-born but the brightest witch of her age.” On behalf of his best friend, Harry puffed his chest up proudly. “I never would have made it through the first year if it wasn’t for them.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Remus admitted, but smiled either way as Harry spoke of his friends.

“It gets worse,” Harry smiled sheepishly, watching as the adults all glanced at each other - some type of silent conversation going on. 

"As I mentioned, my first year was mostly about trying to comprehend the existence of magic. Eventually, my bad luck kicked in. Hermione got trapped in the girls’ bathroom with a troll, and Ron and I rushed to help her, but my wand ended up in his nose." Harry chuckled, trying to downplay the incident, but the expressions on their faces made it clear his attempts were futile. “It might not mean anything to you, but the Philosopher's Stone was moved to Hogwarts, and we thought Snape, our potions teacher, was trying to steal it. It turns out he wasn't; Voldemort was actually latched onto the back of our DADA professor's head. The stone ended up in my pocket, and Voldemort tried to get it from me. When he touched me, uh, he turned into dust; Dumbledore said it was because of love but I don’t believe him. ”

“Severus Snape is your potions professor?” Sirius looked horrified, as if Harry had grown two heads. Completely disregarding that Harry had turned a grown man to dust along with everything else.

“That’s all you took away from that?” Harry smiled in disbelief, “That Snape’s a professor.”

“What can I say, I’d hate to be taught by that greasy git.”

“Well, I’ll answer questions about Snape once I’m done.” Harry chuckled, “The second year was when everyone thought I was the Heir of Slytherin. Ron and I almost got expelled, too; it turns out The Malfoy's house elf, Dobby, had been trying to stop me from going to Hogwarts, so he blocked the platform. Ron and I decided to fly his dad's car and crashed into the Whomping Willow. It turned out that a diary of Tom Riddles was making its rounds around the school thanks to Lucius Malfoy, and it could possess people. It possessed Ginny Weasley; she opened the Chamber of Secrets and set a basilisk on all muggle-borns, including Hermione, and she had almost no recollection of doing so. Eventually, Ron and I found the Chamber, but I had to fight the Basilisk on my own. In short, I killed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor, which I pulled out the sorting hat, not before getting pierced by its tooth. Fawkes saved me, and I destroyed the diary with the same tooth.”

Harry held up his arms, showing the scar to all the silent adults. 

“I’d like to say that the third year was the least deadly. Sirius had escaped Azkaban, and as far as I was concerned, you were a murderer who sold my parents to Voldemort and hoping to get revenge. Dementors were all over the castle and I weren’t particularly fond of them. I also met Remus; he was our defence teacher and he taught me how to cast the patrons charm. Sirius knew Pettigrew was alive, so he managed to get Peter while also kidnapping Ron to the shrieking shack. It was all quite a dramatic affair, Padfoot and Moony had this reunion, I ended up stunning Snape while finding out what really happened. Sirius was going to kill Peter, but I said to keep him alive so Sirius could be free and Pettigrew faced justice. It was a full moon, however, and Moony had forgotten his Wolfsbane potion, so Pettigrew escaped, and Sirius was captured by dementors; they were going to give him the kiss but a stag patrons saved us.” Harry paused, finally taking in a deep breathe he had been holding in. Once he caught his breath, a blush grew on his cheeks. “I thought it was Dad; somehow, he’d magically come back to life to save me.  Hermione and I went back in time with a Time-turner. I was waiting for Dad to show up when the dementors attacked, but I realised it wasn’t him but rather me:  I sent the dementors away, and we helped Sirius escape, but he was still a fugitive. Remus left after Snape revealed he was a werewolf, but we all kept in contact through letters.”

Harry smiled at his recount of his third year, sure it wasn’t all sunshine but it was the begging on his time with Sirius and Remus. His smile did falter soon after, for it was also the start of most of his troubles. 

“Fourth year was the Triwizard tournament, and I finally thought I’d have a quiet year. That turned out not to be true, because a death eater disguised as one of my professors put my name in the Goblet. I became one of the champions, and people weren’t happy about that- Ron and I fell out for most of the year, but we’re okay now. At the final task, Cedric and I found the cup, and I… and I told him to take it with me, but it was a trap. It took us to a graveyard.” Harry paused, squeezing his eyes closed as he drew a shaky breath. “Pettigrew and all these Death Eaters were there and had been helping Voldemort get back to full power. Cedric… Cedric wasn’t supposed to be there, so they killed him. They killed him right in front of me, and it was all my fault. Voldemort returned from a ritual using my blood and made me duel him.”

Harry was struggling to get his words out. He swore he would never discuss what happened in the fourth year; the events were still raw after all this time. Harry shook his head sharply when he heard someone approaching him, knowing he couldn’t handle any touch.

“No one would believe me when I told them Voldemort was back; they called me a liar and a murderer. Voldemort was constantly in my head, and I was always so angry. The Ministry was infiltrating Hogwarts, and Umbridge, the undersecretary of the minister, practically took over the school, she scared me with I must not tell lies so we formed a group called Dumbledore’s Army - thinking about it now, it was a stupid name, but I taught everyone defensive spells. I was stupid and irrational that year, so we ended up in the Department of Mysteries. Death eaters were everywhere. Sirius came, and he…he was fighting Malfoy and Bellatrix. She… she killed him right in front of me, I watched him fall through the veil. I lost one of two father figures in my life because I was reckless. It was all my fault. Everything was my fault because I can’t-”

Harry hadn’t realised that he got lost in his story, stuck in a trance-like state as tears fell down his face. He felt someone wrap their arms around him and pour the familiar calming draught down his throat. Harry eventually returned to himself, still wrapped in the arms of who he now knew was Remus. Of all things, Harry felt embarrassed when he met the gaze of everyone’s tear-filled eyes. All he seemed to be doing was crying, more than he ever had done in his life.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, laughing at himself.

“Don’t even think of apologising, Harry,” Remus whispered back, pulling Harry closer and rubbing his back.

“What you’ve gone through, sweetheart,” Lily spoke, sadness in her voice. “It's unimaginable, and you should not have had to go through it.”

Harry shook his head in disagreement. “I had to; I’m the Boy Who Lived; everyone expects me to be the chosen one. I have to kill Voldemort, no one else.”

Lily moved forward, crouching in front of Harry and cupping his face.

“Not anymore, Harry. You’re here now, and you have nothing to face, fear, or lose.”

“You don’t understand, and I have to go back. I have to do what everyone needs me to do.”

“They need a child to kill a man because of some glowing orb.”

“I thought you didn’t know about the prophecy.”
“I may not know of that prophecy, but I know what they look like.”

Harry nodded, thinking over what he had just been told. Harry wanted to believe his mum and believe he had nothing to fear, but things were never that simple.

“How about you sit on the sofa?” Lily hummed, motioning to Harry the space Marlene and Dorcas had made between them. 

“Feel better?” Mary's smile grew wider as Harry nodded fervently, sinking into the plush cushions. While Harry took in the softness, his eyes flickered over everyone. His mum was looking at the boy, crouched in front of him with an already brewed cup of tea in her hand; Mary and Sirius were sat on another piece of furniture, staring off into nothing, their minds overwhelmed with what they were told: Remus and his dad was quiet also, but they were looking at Harry with the same expression as his mother.

“Why don’t you drink this and head to bed, sweetheart.” Lily smiled, but it fell as Harry shook his head.

“Do you not have any questions?” Harry sipped the tea, wincing as the hot liquid hit his tongue. 

“We can ask our question another time, we have all the time. Now lets get you to bed.”

Lily stood up, but Harry did not rise. 

“I want to know.” Harry’s drained eyes flashed with determination. “I want to know about this world, about what happened to your Harry.”

“What would you like to know?” James asked, sitting up straighter as he looked at Harry.

“How did Riddle become minister?” 

“He’d been popular from the get-go,” Harry accepted the blanket as his father spoke, Harry watching him as others fussed and tucked him in. “A star pupil at Hogwarts who was part of the Gaunt bloodline. There was no hiding that he wanted to be minister, but something held him back.”

“He was a half-blood.” Harry finished off.

“Exactly, the ministry claims that they don’t have favourites, but it's bullshit. Riddle had no luck with his campaign until there were whispers of a wizard called Voldemort. No one ever saw his face, but his followers started to attack the ministry, people’s homes and businesses. It was a scary time, but Riddle stepped up.”

“Riddle was Voldemort and used the fear to be a minister.”

This time, Sirius spoke up. “Correct, but you probably guessed that because of Riddle in your world. At the height of Voldemort’s attacks, people were terrified and wanted to grasp something that would provide safety. That safety was Riddle.”

“So what happened to Voldemort? He couldn’t have just disappeared when Riddle became minister.”

“He didn’t. Voldemort still popped up now and again. It wasn’t until Voldemort attacked Riddle’s home; some poor fool pretended to be him, and by the end of the night, he and Voldemort was dead.”

“I still don’t understand. How did you come to know that Riddle was Voldemort.” 

“We didn’t, not until your dad and I took over as Lords of the family. Dumbledore and Riddle wanted power, and we were the biggest opportunity, so people started letting things slip around us accidentally. It didn’t take us long to figure everything out.”

“Well, if you knew, why didn’t you tell anyone or side with Dumbledore.”

“ I’m not sure what Albus is like in your world, but Dumbledore’s no saint, and Riddle had everyone’s support. We were going to side with Dumbledore, without revealing anything, but…” Sirius trailed off, looking towards James and Lily, and it all clicked for Harry.

“Harry died,” Harry whispered; it was strange to talk about a version of himself in such a way.

“He was a beautiful boy.” Lily smiled, seeming lost in the thoughts of her son.

“What…What happened to him?” Harry asked, a multitude of possibilities in his mind.

“We were at a Ministry Gala, we were dancing, and Harry had left some dessert on our table; when we came back, Harry ate it but said it tasted strange; we thought nothing of it, just putting it down to Harry being a picky child. He got sick a few weeks later, and he wasn’t getting any better, no matter how hard we tried.” Lily paused, her eyes brimming with tears. “We took him to St Mungo’s, and we got told it was poison,”

“It was too late by then, it was designed to be undetectable until the final days.” James took over, his face showing a mix of emotions. “We tucked him in bed, said our goodnights and he never woke up. I like to hope that he wasn’t in pain.”

Harry was in shock to hear that someone would do something so despicable to a child. “Who could do such a thing?” was all he said.

“We don’t know. The Aurors and I interrogated everyone, from the house elves to anyone who looked at us that night, but we returned with nothing each time. Dumbledore and Riddle tried to pin it against each other; a suggestion here or there, a sudden increase in people being nice to us and gossiping about others.”

“We had enough, told everyone to fuck off and leave us alone; they didn’t listen but certainly backed off.” James shrugged, scratching his trouser leg absentmindedly. “We were angry for a very long time. We still are, and we always will be, not until we finally uncover who had killed our boy.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all Harry could say, staring intently at his parents, who gazed at him in return.

“You and your apologies.” James let out a breathy chuckle, an odd look in his eyes.

Harry shrugged, a small smile gracing his face before looking around at everyone, sensing that they wanted to move away from the topic. “What’s it like with Vol-Riddle as Minister?”

“Not much has changed, really,” Dorcas admitted, “Magical creatures have a lot more leniency when living their lives; the dark arts are taught to an extent at Hogwarts-”                                           

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe that.” Harry gave a disbelieving scoff. “I mean, my Voldemort wants to take over Britain, killing anyone who isn't a pureblood.”

“It’s far from perfect, don’t you worry.” Lily said, “Certain purebloods seem to be able to get away with voicing their distaste for muggle-borns quite easily.”

“That can’t be all. It just can’t be.” A feeling of jealousy began to brew within Harry’s. It didn't seem fair to the boy that there was a world where Voldemort wasn't a wizard with no regard for any life other than his own, a Voldemort that wasn't hunting Harry as if he were his next meal.

“I’m sure there is much more going on,” Remus suggested, understanding why Harry would be in denial. “We just haven’t experienced anything yet.”

Harry remained quiet, still unsure about everything.

“How about you head up to bed, kid?” Marlene suggested, gently hitting Harry’s arm with her own. “It’s been a heavy few hours.”

“No, I’m fine. Just give me a moment.” Harry shook his head, trying to ignore the creeping yawn building at the back of his throat.

“I find it hard to believe that, honey.” Lily smiled, standing up and walking up to Harry.

“Honestly, mum, I’m fine,” Harry promised, a flush growing as he finally yawned moments later.

“Off you go, Harry.” James chuckled, a look of adoration crossing his face as he looked at his son surrender to sleep.

After a quick goodnight to everyone, Harry disappeared upstairs as the adults listened to his quiet footsteps and the opening and closing of a door. The atmosphere in the room changed no seconds after, growing sombre as the fire slowly began to dim to nothing but a weak flame.

“I think we can all agree,” James breathed deeply, “That we won't be sending Harry back home?”

“I, for one, certainly agree.” Mary shrugged, talking for what seemed the first time that evening. “His childhood with the Dursleys was enough to convince me.”

“I don’t understand how someone could target a child, an innocent boy, and just tear him down like that.” Remus frowned as he stood up, moving to pace around the room.

“He wants to go home, I’m sure of it.” Marlene huffed, grabbing Dorcas’s hand tightly in comfort.

“Well, Harry can figure out how to get home. I won’t be helping one bit.”

“James-”

“I’m sorry, Lily; it sounds harsh, but I can’t allow myself to help send my son back to that place.”

“Trust me, Jamie, I don’t want him to return, but what if it’s the best option.” Lily admitted.

“Lily does have a point.” Dorcas said, “Harry has a life there, but here? He has nothing and in the eyes of everyone apart from us; Harry died ten years ago.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think or choose to do,” Sirius spoke softly, staring at the tiny flame in the fireplace, “The choice is Harry’s, and we should support him with whatever he chooses and simply tackle the situation when the time comes.”

The room went quiet, everyone in their own battle of what was considered the right and wrong thing to do. 

“It's been an emotional night for everyone; let’s go home and sleep over everything and give James and Lily a few days with Harry.” Remus stood, pulling Sirius up with him.

“I also need to speak with mum and dad, they’ll want to know what Harry’s gone through.” 

The conversation ended, no one having the energy to disagree or carry it on. As they all left the floor one by one, James and Lily were the only ones left in the quietness of their living room, embracing each other tightly.

“Why, James, why does every version of our boy have to suffer?” Lily sniffed, accepting her husband's hand and cupping her face.

“I don’t know, Lily, but I do know that we will give him the world, never asking or wanting for anything. He deserves that and more.”

“I don’t want him to leave.”

“Neither do I.”  

Chapter Text

The last few days had been quiet for Harry: roaming the endless halls of the manor, mapping out every surface, inspecting every picture hanging on the walls and having conversations with his family.

It was all so normal. Following the night of telling his family of his past, Harry felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, like he was leaving his past behind and moving to something better. 

While he embraced his new freedom, a part of him hated it. 

He hated that he had to experience this life with his parents and in return cast away his best friends and the life he had. To flourish as a new individual, fuelled by the love of his parents - uncovering a side of himself that Harry believed would have been if not for that Halloween night.

They built a routine, Harry was left to his own devices, in the confines of the manor or perhaps someone else’s, while his parents worked during the day. He wasn’t used to such mundane living, so it was only a matter of time before Harry began to grow stir crazy.

“Mum?” Harry called, heading towards the sound of movement of his mother who had decided to work from home. 

“In here, honey.” The muffled voice of his mother replied. 

Harry followed her voice, going down a hallway to the slightly open door. He began to feel nervous; although he had explored the manor countless times, he never actually made it to his parent's room. They said that Harry could enter at practically anytime, since he himself had been given a room on the other side of the first floor. 

Drawing closer to his parent's room, Harry attention was diverted to another door. The wood had pale blue accents with his name was written in gold. At first, there was the suspicion that this was a room Harry was expected to move into, but the realisation came after that thought. To gaze upon the room that their actual son slept in and played in before being read bedtime stories brewed an odd feeling in his chest. It was a mixture of curiosity and that familiar resentment that simmered in Harry as he reached out for the doorknob, the small snitch carved in the cold metal - with how tight his grip was, there was no doubt that the design would imprint on Harry’s palm. 

As Harry’s wrist turned, ready to hear the click of hinges, his mother’s voice was right behind him, soft and hesitant.

“Harry?”

“Mum, there you are.” Harry let go of the doorknob, acting as if he’d been scolded and played off the actions he was caught in. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Lily looked at Harry then the door, her eyes searching for something she could not find.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I-Well,” Harry hesitated, not entirely sure how to proceed.

“Are you okay?” Lily inquired, interpreting his quietness as something horrible was happening.

“I’m fine.” Harry reassured, holding his hands up to soothe his mum's nerves, “I just have something to ask you.”

“Okay… You’re not in any terrible danger are you?”

Harry shook his head and took a deep breath. “Well, I was just wondering when I could leave the manor?”

As Lily stayed quiet, Harry grew nervous.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done to keep me occupied, and I know the situation we’re in isn’t the most ideal, but-”

“Harry, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Lily chuckled, moving some hair from Harry’s face, “We were expecting this.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“Your stares at the front door and fireplace have been quite long.”

Harry flushed, giving his mum an embarrassed grin.

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked, his anticipation growing until it faltered at Lily’s frown.

“Well, your father and I have briefly spoken about it, so I can’t say a definite yes or no.”

“But everything will be fine if we just-”

“It’ll be a little more complicated, Harry.” Lily sighed, watching the disappointment on her son’s face. “People are terrible gossipers, when people notice that your father and I are out and about with a teenager no one recognises, people tend to think that our business is also theirs.”

Harry was at a loss. He was practically buzzing, ready to leave the house and explore the world without hiding underneath an invisibility cloak. If Harry was talking to any other adult, he’d already be thinking of ways to go against them, but his mum and dad were an entirely different authority. 

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear.” Lily continued, sensing Harry’s turmoil. “But I promise you that everything will be sorted out. We don’t want to keep you locked up like some criminal, but we want you to be safe.”

Harry nodded, deciding to stay silent before quietly letting his mum know he would be outside.

A few hours had passed since then and Harry was still outside, still caught up on the conversation with his mum. He felt the need to walk, to keep walking until he found something out there. These thoughts weren’t new to him; Harry felt the same when stuck at the Dursleys all summer. While he obviously didn’t have the same feelings for his parents compared to his aunt and uncle, the restlessness was all the same.

It was a wet dog tongue that brought Harry out of his thoughts, for if he had been paying attention he would’ve heard the shout of his name, followed by a dog barking. 

“Padfoot.” Harry laughed, allowing himself to be engulfed by shaggy black fur as Padfoot carried on his greetings for a moment, the pressure of dog paws vanished before Sirius was at his side with a wide grin. 

“Good afternoon, Harry.” The man smiled, looking at Harry innocently.

“Hello, Sirius.” Harry snorted, rubbing the remaining dog drool off his cheek.

“What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Thinking.” Harry shrugged, picking at the growing blades of grass.

“Sounds stressful.” Harry hummed slightly, fully understanding Sirius’ offer to hear his troubles.

“It’s nothing.”

“Not sure I believe that, kid.”

Harry froze momentarily at the nickname. It was the small moments that came from Sirius that had Harry tensing up from time to time; it still being strange to hear words from his godfather that he had not heard in a year. 

“It’s just- I spoke to Mum earlier about me leaving here and spending time at Diagon Alley.” Harry paused momentarily; the quacking from a flock of ducks hovering on the lake filled the silence. “She said she and Dad spoke about it, but I think they’re not too keen on the idea. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything they’ve done to stop me from losing my mind here, but I feel-”

“Trapped.” Sirius finished, grabbing Harry’s hand and removing the blade of grass he had unconsciously wrapped tightly around his forefinger.

“Yes,” Harry admitted as if he was confessing a heinous crime.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Harry. I’d like to think that the majority would feel the same as you; I certainly would.”

“But not many people are in my situation,” Harry added, harsher than he would’ve liked.

“That is very true.”

The two fell into silence, the pair watching the ducks as they vanished under the cold water, and for a brief moment, Harry wished he could disappear, not to reappear with food or to clean his eyes like the ducks but rather to reappear without his constant troubles. Deciding to move away from another train of unhappy thoughts, Harry changed the subject.

“What’s Hogwarts like?” Harry asked, a curious look in his eyes. “Are there houses? Who is the headmaster? Who are the teachers?”

Harry was cut off by a large hand covering his mouth, followed by a deep chuckle. “One question at a time, kid.”

Harry's smile was guilty. “Sorry, so what is Hogwarts like?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure now, but the curriculum is the same, although defence against the dark arts is just called defence against the arts. I’m sure things are always changing, but I’m not too involved with Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded, a million questions still racing, hindering his ability to pick one to ask.

“Who’s the headmaster?”  

In Harry’s mind, he hoped for it to be someone like Professor McGonagall, but Sirius’s grim look cast a flash of doubt.

“Funny you should say that,” Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “It happens to be your favourite potions professor.”

“Snape's headmaster?!” Harry’s mouth was agape, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t think to mention that?”

“When was I going to tell you that?” Sirius huffed, pushing Harry slightly when the boy shook his head in mock offence. “You haven’t exactly been telling us the most easy information to digest in time to let you know that Snape runs Hogwarts.”

“Okay, you have me there. What’s he like?” Harry hoped that this Snape was like the one in his own world - a spiteful wizard that found joy in terrorising students, for if not it seemed that harry got the short end of the stick in his world. 

“Well, from what I’ve heard, he isn’t that bad.” Sirius smiled at Harry’s shocked face. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but if it makes you feel better, he’s a good headmaster but not a good person.”

“Alright, I’ll take that.” Harry shrugged, looking away from Sirius and to the setting sun.

“It’s just so weird.” Harry continued, wondering whether he was speaking to himself or Sirius, but he did not know. “I expected things to be so different. That Vol-Riddle is some tyrannical ruler, and everyone fears for their lives.”

The warmth of Sirius’s hug engulfed Harry; while it was only a slightly awkward side hug, Harry embraced it entirely.

“Trust me, Harry, this world is far from perfect, and you’ll soon find that out, but I know you’ll get everything you deserved, even if it’s rather inconvenient.”

It was only a matter of time before James had to traverse the halls of the ministry once more. He was nowhere near ready, but the world wouldn’t wait for him and his family. His mind was consumed with the thoughts of his son and the days he spent alone. The business of his mind began to impact his work, and he spent all day glaring at the stacks of papers and unopened letters piling up on his desk. Thankfully, no one had really bothered him; after all, it was his typical behaviour to lock himself in his office unless those he liked visited him.

However, it was only a matter of time before his isolation was disrupted. The disruption came in the form of a knock at the door, two sharp knocks and nothing more. It was a pattern that belonged to one person, a person James did not want to deal with.

“Enter.” James called, rubbing his hands over his face before gaining his composure.

As James straightened his posture, Lucius Malfoy walked through the door, small thuds following as his cane hit the carpet. He was an ever-imposing figure, standing just below James in height, but his aura and magic made up for it.

“Lord Potter.”

“Malfoy, what can I do for you?” James kept his head down, feigning interest in meaningless words written on parchment before him.   

“I thought to come see how you were fairing.” James did not appreciate the faux concern on his face,. “After all, your absence has caused concern.”

James paused, raising a brow as he looked up. “I see, well, it was a family matter I could not avoid.”

“I see, I hope it was not too serious?”

It was hard for James to contain his scoff; he had never known Lucius to stoop to weak manipulation. James always found that men like Lucius believed they were above everyone else and that their manipulations were so refined and undetectable that they could get away with laziness.

“While I do appreciate your concern.” James paused again, hazel eyes meeting grey. “Was there anything else you needed?”

Malfoy’s eye twitched slightly, “There is, yes.”

James gestured for him to continue.

“The Minister wished to deliver this himself, but he has been rather preoccupied as of late.” Lucius pulled a letter from his robe pocket, the gold wax seal reflected in the light. “An invitation to the annual spring celebration.”

“I see,” James took the letter, placing it carelessly on his desk. “I’ll have to confirm with Lily if we can attend.”

“Of course, the Minister will be waiting for your decision.” Lucius paused for a moment, choosing his words. “He wishes to build rapport with you and Lady Potter, after all he does not like those he… admire to fade into the background.”

“You can let the Minister know that I’m perfectly content with fading into the background, Malfoy.”

The silence that followed was not pleasant for either of them, and James was about to make some weak excuse for the man to leave before fate decided to be on his side. It was another knock on the door, but it was far softer and friendlier this time.

“Come in.” James silently hoped that whoever he allowed to enter would be his saviour, and they indeed were when Remus entered the room. The man was about to say something, though he stopped when he noticed Lucius.

“Oh, good afternoon, Lord Malfoy.” Remus gave James a brief look of confusion, and James returned with a slight shrug.

“Lupin.” There was no other acknowledgement from Lucius towards Remus, as the wizard had turned his back to the werewolf. “As I’ve said, Lord Potter, the Minister will await your reply.”

Lucius didn’t even wait for a reply before he left the room, the door shutting harshly.

“Still a pleasant man.” Remus snorted, gladly accepting James’s hug when the man stood up and embraced him. “What did he want anyways?”

“That spring celebration invite, which I always seem to forget about each year.”

“You’ll be going?” The subject of Harry was hidden behind the question. James was too scared even to mention the return of his son, never knowing if anyone would figure out that something had been disrupted in his life.

“We’ll have to,” James frowned, “More questions will be asked if we don’t; we’ve gone every year and Lucius has just tried to sniff around. Plus, you and Sirius will be there.”

“I’ll be visiting Mum and Dad during that time.” Remus did seem apologetic, but he could see some humour in his best friend's eyes. “But, you’ll have Sirius for support once you’ve both been hounded by whoever is there.”

“Wonderful.” James leant back in his chair after having sat back down. “I swear to Merlin, it gets worse year after year.”

“In the nicest way, you have to suck it up because that’s what you get for being neutral. You know Dumbledore and Riddle want nothing more than to have you publicly side with them, especially since the election is next year.”  

“And right now, that is far from what I need.”

“Give it time, and things will improve, but on another note, how is he doing?” James was still getting used to that question, and having his family ask about how his son was doing was something James had forgotten he had missed.

“He’s getting restless, and it’s only a matter of time before he asks to leave, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s asked Lily today.”

“What’s the plan when he does ask?”

“Lily and I have spoken about it. We have a few ideas to keep him safe, but each one has its cons.”

“What about in the long run? Because once you give him that slither of freedom, he’ll only want more, plus he’s only seventeen and has a whole life ahead of him.” Remus stared at James as he grew silent, allowing the man to delve into his thoughts.

“Leave the country?” James hesitated, unsure whether to voice his ideas. “I-I don’t know, but I know I won’t have him be a secret.”

“You’re willing to leave everything behind?”
“I’d give up my magic to keep him safe.” James looked down, his eyes instantly finding the photo of Lily. “To think that in such a short space of time the whole concept of our lives have changed.”

“And we must remember to take things a step at a time.” 

“There’s no harm in taking a few leaps along the way, time may not be on our side as much as fate is.”

“You think all of this is to do with fate?”
“I think something out there, maybe magic herself decided that we needed him and he needed us, and I’d be stupid enough to not make use of what we’ve been given.”

“Well, just remember you and Lily aren’t alone in this.” Remus smiled at James, “You have a terrible saviour complex and believing that you two are alone.”

“Of course, I will need your library at some point, after all.”

Chapter Text

It took Harry a couple more days to revisit visiting Diagon Alley. He decided on a more tactful approach when asking, a few sad, wide-eyed looks and words convinced his parents that the trip would go forward. A risky operation was decided, they would cast a charm to alter Harry’s appearance, a chance to wonder Diagon Alley with partial freedom. They decided on a different name, something simple, easy to remember, but equally forgettable. 

“We’ll get the floo into The Leaky Cauldron,” Lily said as she entered the room, putting on a jacket, and pocketing her wand. “We won’t spend long there, maybe an hour or two, as we don’t know how long it’ll last.” 

“We probably should have tested it before we left.” James admitted, and Harry hoped that they wouldn’t go back on their word. 

“That might’ve been a good idea, but there’s no turning back now.” Lily shrugged, moving out of the way to allow James to cast the charm; it was a strange sensation, like his invisibility cloak had been draped over and glued to his body. 

He let the charm settle for a moment, feeling no change to his body, before he stood up, observing his reflection in the mirror. He was looking at a completely new person. His shaggy black hair and green eyes were gone, replaced with auburn locks that reached his ears and brown eyes. His scar, along with the words I must not tell lies had vanished, too, but when tracing lightly where the white scarring travelled across his body, Harry could almost feel the uneven texture of his skin. In short, Harry felt trapped in another body, which was not a pleasant feeling, reminding him slightly of his runs ins with Nagini in the Department of Mysteries. 

“How does this work anyway?” Harry’s finger continued to trace where his scar would've been visible, wanting to distract himself from thinking of the previous year, “Is it the same features every time the spell is used?” 

“So far, it’s always been different, but it’s not actually a recognised or old spell,” James said, entering the room while placing his wand in the holster on his wrist, “so it could change.”

“Someone made it?” Of course, Harry knew that spells had to be created from somewhere, but hearing that it was a recent creation was strange. 

“I did, actually,” James said nonchalantly, as if describing the weather. Sirius and I needed a way to conduct our pranks without getting anyone else into trouble; as polyjuice was out of the question, it took a while, but we managed to somewhat imitate the powers of a Metamorphagus.” 

“Like Tonks.” Harry cut in, giving a small smile at the mention of the witch. 

“Yes, like Tonks. All you have to do is say the incantation and picture what features you want to change; of course, no one will ever be able to fully harness the ability, but the longest the spells lasted was about two hours. At first, we could barely manage a minute.” 

“It wasn’t the most wonderful experience to think that you’re talking to a new fourth year, then suddenly you’re talking to Sirius or James.” Lily quipped, gathering a handful of floo powder. 

“I’ll teach it to you some time. It might come in handy.” James grinned, turning to Lily with a sheepish look at the mention of his childhood escapades. 

“I’d like that, thank you.” Harry smiled, accepting the floo powder handed to him. “So, to The Leaky Cauldron?” 

“Yep, I’ll go first, then you followed by your father.” 

“That’s definitely for the best, my landings aren’t the most graceful.” Harry pulled a face, wincing at remembering his less than graceful moments involving the floo network. 

“You inherited that from your grandfather,” James snickered, giving Lily a quick kiss before the green flames took her, “We’ve had to put cushioning charms in front of every fireplace.” 

Harry certainly hoped the pub also had said charm when he, too, was enveloped by warmth and a familiar squeezing sensation. 

It was strange for Harry to be back in the alley. When he first arrived through the mirror, he was too nervous to venture so far away from the shop, other than deciding to go to muggle locations for fear of being recognised. However, now he didn’t have to worry about being spotted. While there was still that fear of someone seeing right through him and knowing who he was and where he was from, there was increased comfort in the presence of his parents.

Before Harry even got the chance to ask where they were going, Lily declared that they were going to Florean Fortescue’s - not wanting to them walk around the busy streets on an empty stomach, to which James and Harry had no complaints. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Lily asked, counting the galleons from her pocket. 

“Just a tub of treacle tart, please,” Harry answered, looking around the shop, somehow fascinated by somewhere he’d already been before, even if it was in his own world. 

“Not another treacle tart enthusiast.” Harry looked over to his dad, pulling a disgusted face. 

“You don’t like it?” 

“Can’t stand the stuff. Your mum, on the other hand, loves it.” 

It was then that Harry was reminded of something he’d begun to realise: These people weren’t his parents he had heard about: Sirius had once raved that his father loved treacle tart more than anything, but now it was his mother. This served as a reminder to Harry that he was living off a fantasy he had conjured in his mind, and he’d not actually taken the time to get to know who these people were. 

“I’m glad to know there’s another treacle tart lover in the family.” Lily lightly bumped into Harry, and the boy gave a small smile in return. “The usual, James?” 

“You go find a seat with Harry, Lils. It’s my turn to pay.” 

Accepting James’s offer with a shrug, Lily and Harry walked off to find a small table in a corner outside. 

“It’s so weird sitting here,” Harry admitted as they sat down, Harry choosing to face the moving crowd. 

“What’s strange?” 

“Just sitting here and doing things so… normal.” 

“It is rather strange, isn’t it.” Lily nodded with full understanding, as she was somewhat in the same position as Harry; everyone who knew of Harry was. “There’ll be a few ups and downs, but we’ll be okay.” 

“What will you two be okay about?” James interrupted, placing the respective tubs in front of Lily and Harry.

“About everything that could happen and past events,” Lily explained, intentionally vague, as she dug into her raspberry ice cream. 

“Of course, we’ll be okay, but let’s not focus on that right now and just have fun.” James smiled calmingly at Harry, knowing the unrest was from him. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry-”

“I thought we agreed no apologies, hun. It’s hard not to worry about something as insane as what you’re going through.” James reassured Harry before gesturing for him to eat his ice cream. 

Following his father’s order, Harry began to eat the three large scoops of ice cream, enjoying the comfortable silence the table fell into. It was a few more moments of quiet before James spoke up. 

“So, Harry, what else do you like besides Quidditch?” 

“Oh, uhm, I’m not really sure,” Harry thought, “I usually just played chess with Ron and Seamus or sat with Hermione and read. It’s a bit hard to pick up a hobby when someone’s trying to kill you in some way each year or staying at the Dursleys.” 

Harry winced at his parents' faces, forgetting that his self-deprecating jokes didn't usually go over well with them. As they looked at him with a mix of emotions, Harry knew they wanted to say something, but his pleading look convinced them otherwise. 

“Well, we’ll have to change that and help you pick something up.” James’s smile was tight, clearly holding back what he actually wanted to say. 

“Thank you,” Harry didn't waste a moment moving the conversation along. “What do you two do when you’re not working?” 

“Well, potions are definitely a hobby of mine, even though I brew them for a living, but runes and Astronomy interest me.” Lily shrugged, and as she moved to the left slightly, Harry spotted a group of men wearing green cloaks. 

“I’m quite a fan of gardening,” James smiled wide, clearly enjoying talking about his favourite pastime. “I can't wait to show you the garden when it starts to bloom.” 

“He’s spent ten straight hours in the garden once,” Lily rolled her eyes, but she radiated nothing but fondness, “I had to drag him inside.” 

Harry laughed. While he was engaged in the conversation, he couldn’t help but keep looking towards the group that stood outside a quill shop—something that both James and Lily caught on to. 

“Everything alright, Harry?” 

“Who are they?” Harry asked, his gaze still locked onto the group, but he could now see that they were wearing a pin that seemed familiar.

James and Lily followed Harry's gaze, the pair looking slightly shocked when they saw who had captured Harry’s attention.

“You don’t have Aurors?” James asked.

“Oh, we do!” Harry nodded, his eyes still on the group, “They just don’t wear those pins or wear green – Red’s their colour.”

“So strange,” Lily muttered to herself. “Well, the pins are just to show that they’re close to becoming a knight.”

“A knight?” Harry turned back to his parents, confusion written on his face.

“The Knights of Walpurgis?”

Harry shook his head once again, looking back to the group, which now had a group of young witches standing close and giggling.

“Are they like Aurors?”

“Yes and no,” Lily explained, “Aurors are more like muggle police. Meanwhile, the Knights of Walpurgis act as bodyguards for people like Riddle and the higher-ups.”

“Even then, they’re not really the Knights of Walpurgis,” James commented, scraping the last of his ice cream out of the tub.

“James, not so loud.” Lily chided, looking around briefly.

“Lils, you know no one will listen.” James shrugged, “they refuse to.”

“What do you mean?” Harry watched his parents exchange.

“They called themselves Knights of Walpurgis, but they really aren’t. The actual knights are the ones closest to Riddle-”

“Oh, so they’re like death eaters?” Harry concluded, noticing almost instantly how the area grew quiet only briefly as a few individuals looked over.

“Not so loud, sweetheart,” Lily’s face was grim, but it grew comforting as Harry flushed in embarrassment, “People refuse to listen until anything remotely related to Voldemort is mentioned.”

“It’s ridiculous, really.” James added, “A lot of it is right in front of people, as we’ve said.”

Something about his father's words bothered Harry. They’d repeatedly said how those around refused to listen, but his family and others had the proof to make them listen.

“You say that it’s all right in front of everyone, but how come you don’t show them?” It felt odd to criticise his parents. Ever since waking up in this world, Harry had seen his parents in an entirely positive light, too afraid to disrupt the visions he had created as a child.

“Because I’m selfish.” James looked at Harry, no guilt in his words, “I’m not going to lie and say my morals have been or will be pure; while the truth of everything is fucked to put it lightly, my family is safe.”

Harry remained silent, the chatter of those around him no longer audible.

“The day we lost Harry, I’d never felt so little control, and I never wanted to feel that again.” James’s voice cracked, and Lily's hand quickly found his own, “ Trust me, when everything clicked, we wanted to tell every person we came across, but the deeper it all went, the greater the cost.”

Harry certainly gained some understanding and a realisation that his parents weren’t perfect, which didn’t bother him at all.

“It’s okay; I know from experience that not everything is straightforward.” Harry smiled, giving his comfort to the adults in front.

The pair in question smiled at him, Lily opening her mouth to say something.

“Lord Potter!” A voice shouted, halting the conversation.

“David.” Lily could feel James' muscles tense beside her; she was equally as stiff as she unconsciously clutched Harry's wrist.

“Lily, I haven’t seen you in a while; how are you?”

“I’m good, David. Thank you for asking.” Lily’s smile was tight, and her tone did not desire the conversation to continue. If David picked up on it, it was completely ignored.

“Wonderful. I’m glad you're feeling better.” His eyes finally landed on Harry. “Who’s this?”

For a moment, Harry's mind went blank; all discussion back at the house vanished from his memory. “Uh-”

David raised a brow, looking increasingly confused.

“This is Sam.” James shifted, directing Davids's full attention from the boy. “He’s a friend's cousin we’re looking after.”

“Right.” David went quiet for a moment before seemingly accepting what James had to say, “Nice to meet you, kid.”

Harry nodded, staying silent and happy to watch his ice cream melt, and David seemed equally happy to ignore his presence and look pointedly at James.

“So, are you well, Lord Potter?” If anyone were to eavesdrop on the conversation, it would have been a simple question, but to those actually involved, it meant something entirely different. 

“Yes, thank you.” James's curt reply should have been a good enough sign, but the other kept pushing. 

“Good, good. Will you be visiting the vault any time soon?” 

“I have no intention of visiting, David.” 

“Are you sure?” While David tried to keep eye contact with James, his gaze kept just over the man's shoulder, “If anything arises like before, you know you can always-”

“As much as I appreciate your offers of help, I don’t wish to discuss what occurred any time soon.” There was a finality to James’s words, and Harry had a feeling that the persona of Lord Potter was peeking through.

Again, if anyone were to listen to the conversation, one would think that James was being overly harsh. Still, for those at the table, the wizard was pushing too much into a situation he knew nothing of, and that finally seemed to register to him. 

“Alright, well I’ll just leave you three to it.” The man stood still for a moment, maybe expecting James to go back on his word and ask for help regarding the situation with Harry,  oblivious to the fact that the boy in question was sat next to him.

“Thank you, David. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“At least we know the spell works for definite.” Harry chuckled breathlessly, watching the man hurry away, weaving between the crowds. 

“He did not get the hint one bit.” James huffed. 

“Let’s just hope that the questions were out of concern and not nosiness,” Lily added, waving away the empty tubs with her wand, smiling when the boys thanked her. 

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him. I trust Griphook not to say anything.” 

“Really?” While Griphook indeed seemed loyal to the Potter house, from what Harry observed at Gringotts, Harry had the impression that it only went so far. 

“I know it may seem otherwise,” James shrugged, knowing precisely what Harry was thinking, “but I trust Griphook more than David.” 

Harry chose not to press the reason why the trust was different, not wanting to dwell too much on things but just enjoying the day out. 

“Would you like to go anywhere in particular?” Lily asked as the trio stood from the table and walked down the street, Harry choosing to keep his distance from the Knights. 

“I’m just happy to look around,” Harry admitted, distracted by every shop down the Alley. It was as if he were eleven once more, and Hagrid led the wide-eyed child along the cobbled path to retrieve school supplies.

“Do you think someone has the same wand as me?” Harry suddenly spoke up as he was thinking of his eleven-year-old self. “I mean, my wand wasn't made intentionally for me, so there could be someone out there with it.” 

“That could be a possibility, but as long as it isn't affecting your wand, then it shouldn’t matter,” James said, still mindlessly walking and staring at the shop windows. 

“You haven’t experienced any problems with your magic?” 

Harry shook his head at his mother's question, following them into Quality Quidditch Supplies, and he couldn't help but make a beeline to the broomsticks. 

It felt nice to just wander around the store, nobody following him around and whispering that they had seen the boy who lived. Harry could enjoy his own company, but a part of him wished he had the Weasleys and Hermione with him. 

“What one would you like?” 

Harry jumped as James spoke close to his ear. 

“It’s fine, dad, I’m just looking.” 

“Nonsense, it’s a gift from your mother and me.” The smile that James gave Harry made it impossible for him to say no. So, Harry looked at the wall, which was full of broomsticks. Some he recognised, but others he didn’t; however, only one really caught his eye.

“Could I have a Firebolt, please?” 

“Are you sure? There’s newer models of the Firebolt over there.” James clearly wanted to spend more money on his son, but from Harry’s glare James knew his son could not be persuaded.“Alright, a Firebolt it is.” 

It took the family another ten minutes to leave the shop. Both James and Lily picked up Quidditch equipment, claiming that Harry needed every item without question. He quickly gave up and allowed them to run rampant around the store. 

“It was a very successful shopping trip.” James smiled brightly, shrinking the two large bags of Quidditch supplies and placing them in his pocket. “Your Firebolt should arrive tomorrow.” 

“Thank you. You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Oh hush, Harry,” Lily squeezed Harry's cheeks, silencing him, “It’s only going to get worse.”

Harry jokingly huffed, walking in front of his parents until he came to a stop. Knockturn Alley was to his left. The small alleyway was familiar to him; while it was not the main entrance to the Alley, Harry did remember making his way down there. 

“Why have you stopped, Harry?” James asked, “Is there somewhere you want to go?” 

“It’s right down there,” Harry whispered, “The place where I woke up.” 

His parents froze and looked to the left, their eyes widening slightly as Harry began to walk in that direction. 

“How about we go there another time?” Lily tried to pull Harry away but with no luck. 

“The mirror might still be there.” There was a sudden excitement within Harry, and he pulled his arm out of Lily’s grasp. 

“Harry, hang on a moment,” James called, following after Harry as he ran off. 

However, Harry ignored them. He walked quickly down the path, remembering which turns to take until he reached the abandoned shop. The hope within Harry continued as he walked through the door and found that it was exactly the same as he had left it. 

“Harry, wait!” 

Harry faltered, letting his parents catch up with him. 

“Please don’t run off like that, sweetheart.” Lily took a breath, glancing around the room. 

“Sorry,” Harry's cheeks grew flush, “but we just need to go down there.” 

“Down those perfectly safe-looking stairs into a pitch black room?” Harry would've smiled at his dad's sarcasm if they had been in any other situation.

“Please, it could give us some answers.” Harry was inching towards the stairs. “We’ll be in and then out.” 

James and Lily looked at each other and then at Harry, and a silent conversation took place. 

“In and then out.” Lily sighed. 

Harry wasted no time going down the stairs. He entered the room, and no candles were lit, plunging it into darkness. Excitedly, Harry grabbed his wand and cast a Lumos charm, and as the room lit up, he was met with nothing. 

The mirror wasn't there; instead, there was no singular sign that a mirror had once been in the room; where the object once stood was only a pile of boxes covered by a blanket of dust.

“No,” Harry whispered, walking towards the boxes, desperately hoping that his mind was playing with him. 

“Harry?” There was a call from the top of the stairs, but Harry ignored them.

“No, no, no,” Harry muttered under his breath, ignoring his parents' worried calls and the disrupted dust settling in his lungs as he pushed boxes to the floor.

“Harry, what’s going on?” 

Harry still ignored him, his panic replaced by anger—anger that he may have missed his chance at going home.

“Harry?” Lily called, her voice travelling down the stairs. “Sweetheart, we’re coming down.”

“I-I don’t understand. It was right here!” Harry snapped, his frustration clear from his voice and movements, and unfortunately, his parents were in the target range.

“Harry- oh, sweetheart…” 

“You have to believe me. It was right here.” Harry's voice didn't rise, staying quiet and flat. 

“It’s okay, Harry. We’ll-” The anger within Harry flared when his dad spoke. 

“But it’s all your fault!” Harry sobbed and turned around to face them; his breathing grew shorter with every cry. “If you- if you hadn't been here, then I’d never have been stopped at Gringotts. I’d-I’d have never left-”

“Harry, please,” Lily spoke calmly, her hands raised to touch Harry even though he was far out of reach. “We need you to breathe.”

There was no stopping Harry. His magic was erratic, a reflection of his frustration. 

He had lost the most obvious opportunity to find a way back home. He was so caught up in the idea of his parents and a family that he was blindsided. Blinded to the fact that this wasn’t his home, he had people waiting for him, desperate to know where the boy had gone.

“Harry, please,” James spoke this time, standing beside his wife. The two were desperate to comfort their son but clearly unable to.

There was a ringing in Harry’s ear, his parent's voice muffled as if his own magic was blocking out what he didn’t want to hear. 

“James, don’t!” 

Harry suddenly felt a stinging sensation on his arm. He turned to his dad and saw that his wand was in his hand, with a fearful look on his face. The sharp pain grounded Harry, bringing him somewhat back to his senses. He looked around the room and saw the destruction he’d left behind, and guilt filled him. 

His parents sensed that guilt because he found himself wrapped in a firm hug, his parents' arms locked tightly around him. 

“I-I’m sorry.” That was all Harry could muster after a period of silence. 

“It’s alright, Harry-”

“It’s not!” Harry objected, trying to pull back from his mother, but she instantly pulled him back into her embrace. “I just- I’ve never been so, so awful at controlling myself!” 

“Harry, sweetheart, what’s happening in your life right now is unimaginable, and you have handled it so well.” Lily cupped Harry’s face with her hand, “You have been so brave, so strong since this all started.” 

“I hate this,” Harry mumbled into Lily’s palm, feeling James’s hand rub his back. 

“It’ll get better, Harry, I promise.” 

Harry was finally able to pull away from his parents, still sniffing slightly as he stared at the two, “We should probably have a proper look around.” 

“Harry…” James began but was silenced with a shake of Harry’s head.

“The mirror was there,” Harry repeated, pointing to the strewn boxes on the floor. 

“Alright, Harry.” Lily led him to the stairs and sat him down. “You stay right there, and we’ll have a look.” 

Harry nodded, watching his parents look around the room, asking him a few questions. It went like that for around ten more minutes before Harry told them to stop. 

“We’re not going to find anything.” Harry’s voice cracked, standing up from the step, “Let’s just go.” 

“Maybe if we look-”

“Please, can we just go home?” Harry snapped, pleading to his parents to drop their useless search.

“Alright, sweetheart.” Lily sighed, “Let’s go home.” 

Harry could feel their gazes as he walked away and didn't look back, not until he made it to the Leaky Cauldron. It pained Harry to walk away, away from the one place he thought he had a chance to go home. As he walked, a nagging voice in his mind told him to just give up and accept that a world where he didn't exist was now his home, swapping out one form of suffering for another.

Chapter Text

Harry's worry of not being able to settle in was now a distant thought. His trips to Diagon Alley had become somewhat regular, not too frequent that questions would be raised; even spending ten minutes wondering about the pathways was enough for him, and so he found the idea of trying to get back home was becoming less and less important. 

It was around midday, and Harry was spending time in his unofficial room, looking through a photo album his parents had given him. 

“Harry?” He heard his father call from the bottom of the stairs just as he closed the album, “Could you come here a moment, we’re in the living room.”

Harry got up from his bed, quickly going down the stairs and to the living room, pausing in the doorway when he found his parents sat next to each other on a sofa.

“Do you find yourself getting lonely when your mother and I aren’t home?” 

The question caught Harry off guard, not expecting that type of question nor being given time to sit down. “Uh, why?” 

“We have an idea, but it depends on your answer,” Lily explained. “So please be as honest as you possibly can.” 

“Okay, well, sometimes, but it’s fine. Everyone gets bored at some point.” Harry didn’t particularly like to admit that he did feel the way he did at times - a recurring stabbing of ungratefulness accompanied the thought each time. Still, the pleading look on his mothers when asking him for honesty was too much. 

“That is true, we all get bored.” James agreed, “but we thought that maybe you’d like to head over to Magical Menagerie and look at what animals they have?” 

“You want to get me a pet?” Harry raised a brow at the almost childish request. On top of that, it felt odd to Harry to think briefly of having a new pet cross his mind; he felt like he would betray Hedwig and never have a companion as loyal as she was. 

“You don’t have to, of course,” Lily reassured, knowing it was very likely that Harry was still affected by the loss of his companion; she was right. Then, a nagging feeling in Harry’s mind reminded him that this was his home now, and he had to settle into his new life. 

“I wouldn’t mind having a look.” Harry said after a moment, “But I don’t want an owl.” 

“That’s perfectly fine, Harry.” His father reassured him, “Would you like to leave in about ten minutes?” 

“That’s fine. Let me just go get ready.”

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a pet shop in his world, having received enough owl treats from the Weasleys to last Hedwig a good number of years. It was a busy shop; the excited chatter followed the endless number of children running around the store, eagerly pointing at all the magical creatures on display. 

“How about you look around yourself and come find me if you find something.” James smiled, though it wasn't as warm as it usually was; the two became family friends rather than father and son the moment they stepped onto the premises. 

“Okay.” Harry nodded, hesitantly walking away, unsure where he was going - although, he knew to avoid the constant hooting. 

Harry wandered mindlessly, weaving in and out of families as their children seemed to express the need to have every animal their small eyes see. However, as Harry walked further into the back of the store, a strange feeling washed over him. 

‘Too loud.’ A quiet voice hissed, and Harry could hear it clear as day. He had hoped, no prayed, that he wouldn't come across a serpent of any kind. 

‘Stop talking.’ The snake repeated, wherever it was within the shop, as if calling out to anyone that could hear, and Harry had always been adequate at pretending not to hear things. 

He walked away, wanting to find his father so they could leave, but now that he had heard the reptile, it seemed he would not be permitted to ignore her, her spoken words clear and loud even as he located his father. 

However, as Harry drew closer, he noticed he was talking to someone with familiar blonde hair. 

“James, what a surprise.” Harry knew that voice anywhere, and his father immediately confirmed who he was engaging with.

“Lucius.” James was stiff, his eyes subtly glancing at Harry as the boy came to stand by him. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“A coincidence indeed. Draco is visiting soon, so Narcissa has sent me to do some errands.” 

“I see. How is your son?” 

“Draco is well, thriving in France under the best professors.” The elder Malfoy’s smugness was undeniable. “Much to Narcissa’s joy, he will return home for good in the summer of next year.” 

“He must be happy to return.” James smiled, his right foot tapping on the floor. “It’s such a shame Hogwarts didn’t work out for him.” 

“Yes, a shame indeed.” It was only then that Silver eyes landed on Harry. “And who is this young man?”  

“Sam, he’s a friend's son. We’re looking after him for a little while.” James curtly spoke, moving slightly closer to Harry. 

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Harry spoke, accepting that he had to show this man some manners, which also meant looking into grey eyes. Harry did not want to meet the man’s eyes, content staring at his polished and expensive shoes, but he knew he would have to look up. 

He wished he hadn't, however, as pressure was the first thing Harry felt; it was an all-too-familiar feeling, but instead of being in a pet shop of all places, Harry was in a classroom before his least favourite professor. 

Thankfully, Harry hadn’t even given the man a chance to enter his mind as Harry looked away, still remembering the basics of Occlumency and practically imagining Snape commenting that he wasn’t a complete loss. 

“Likewise.” The blonde man drawled, his eyes not straying from Harry until James gave a slight cough and drew him back into a stiff conversation. As the men’s conversation faded into the background of Harry’s mind, the snake's voice became loud again.

‘ Stop tapping the glass, you irritating-” 

“I see-”

‘Tap, tap, tap. That’s all everyone does, no sense of manners.’ 

“And what animal are you after-”

‘Step closer, and I will bite you. I may be a-’

“Sam!” 

“Snake.” Harry blurted out, startled when his father gripped his arm. “A snake.” 

Openly talking was risky for Harry, and he was entirely in the dark about whether he would reply in English or Parseltongue; thankfully, it wasn’t the latter, as both adults looked at him. Harry could see in their stature alone that he had not spoken the language. 

“You want… a snake?” James asked, glancing around the store, looking unsure, not even noticing Harry’s discomfort, “I haven’t seen any around.” 

If no one were watching him, Harry would have groaned, slightly frustrated that his dad didn't even question Harry’s answer, simply going along with his son’s answer. 

“If I’m right in what I’ve heard,” Malfoy cut in, still staring at Harry, who continued to avoid his eyes, “They’re in the process of moving them, but there seems to be one left.” 

Harry never thought that he would be thankful to be in the presence of a Malfoy - not that he would ever utter that out loud.

“Yes, I saw it while I was looking around,” Harry easily lied, although the complete avoidance of eye contact held a high chance of giving him away. 

”Right, well, how about you go over and I’ll join you in a moment.” 

Harry nodded, hurrying along the endless aisles that once seemed so small. Eventually, he found the tiny creature that had been unintentionally terrorising him since his arrival. 

She was a small thing, about as long as the tips of Harry’s finger to his elbow. Her scales were a muted beige, littered with orange patches that reflected the light as she looked at Harry, a small tongue flickering out of her upturned snout. It was really ironic for a thing so small to talk so loudly.  

‘Smells funny.’ her voice had a haughty tone, and Harry tried to smell himself inconspicuously, not noting any concerning smells; it seemed, however, that the reptile had caught on.

‘You understand?’ it was then that Harry could’ve walked away, completely ignored what the little creature was saying and went about his day, pretending he hadn’t heard the rasped voice and decided on a more suitable companion. 

Instead, he looked into vast black eyes and nodded. 

‘Interesting,’ She slithered closer to the glass, ‘You’re to take me with you.’ 

Harry shook his head, looking behind his shoulder. He panicked when it was clear his father was finally escaping Lucius’ conversation. 

‘You must. Do you wish for me to live in this box, or worse, with some young human.’

“I can’t.” Harry whispered, his voice low enough that no one could hear, “ I don’t even know how to look after a snake!”

‘You will learn, no excuses.’ 

“H-Sam?” his dad's voice called from behind, and Harry shot up and turned around. His father, however, was not alone; this time, it was not Malfoy but a store clerk. 

“Yes?” 

“This is the snake?” 

Harry hesitated, looking at his father and then back to the cage, cursing himself for the following words he knew would leave his mouth.

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” The clerk piped up, rubbing the back of her neck, “For a snake and her breed, she’s known to be quite high maintenance.” 

“I’m sure.” If Harry’s voice cracked out of nerves, he hoped the two didn’t spot it. 

“Alright, well, give me a moment.” The clerk hurried off, not before taking one last glance at Harry.   

“A snake, huh?” James raised a brow, walking closer to look at the reptile himself. “I didn’t take you for a snake person.” 

“I like to surprise.” Harry’s laugh was strained, avoiding eye contact as the woman walked back over, holding a small cage and bag. Harry watched as the witch opened the snake’s enclosure, her hesitant movements showing that she wasn’t too fond of the creature. Harry, however, could see the surprise on her face when she could pick the snake up without any fuss; the snake was too busy staring at Harry.

“That was a lot easier than before.” She muttered to herself, checking on the creature one last time before closing the smaller cage and shrinking it to fit snugly in the other bag, “She’s perfectly safe and happy in the cage, but just be careful not to jostle the bag too much.” 

Harry nodded, following her as she told him what he could gather was the basics of looking after his new pet. 

“If you have any worries or questions, don’t hesitate to come back.” As she spoke, James moved in front of Harry, pulling out a bag of galleons and handing them over to her outstretched hand, “Everything you need for her is also in the bag.” 

Harry murmured a quiet thank you, hastily grabbing the grab but being equally conscious of the live animal that was now his own, which was in the bag. He left the shop without looking back, knowing that his father would be close behind; he indeed was, as the man quickly caught up with him. 

“Are you okay?” James asked, bordering on an interrogation, as he searched Harry’s eyes. “You left quite quickly.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Unfortunately, the smile that Harry gave was nowhere near convincing, 

“You know you didn’t have to get the snake,” James spoke carefully, as though he was talking to a child. 

“I know,” Harry’s smile was small and awkward, “but I did want her.” 

James stayed silent, watching Harry momentarily before taking his word. “Alright, is there anything else you need or want to visit?” 

He thought for a moment, having some places in mind he wished to go to, but the weight of the bag clutched in his hand proved convincing enough to send him home. 

“No, I don’t think so. Is there anywhere you want to go?” 

“Not at the moment,” James smiled, “Let’s just get home. I’m not in the mood to meet Malfoy again, or anyone else for that matter.” 

“Right behind you with that.”

“We’re home!” James shouted as he helped Harry up from the floor, floo dust covering the boy's face. 

Lily didn’t take long to enter the room, spotting the bag on the coffee table. " It seems we have a new addition to the family.” 

“We do indeed,” James walked over to Lily, giving her a light kiss on her temples. “A snake of all things.” 

His mother raised an eyebrow, looking at Harry in surprise, who could only shrug, “Right, well, your parents are in the kitchen.”

James murmured a small thank you before disappearing down the hallway. 

Lily turned to Harry, watching as he picked up the bag, “I’m guessing she’s in there.” 

“She’s in there and all the basics.”

“I see. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think you’d get a snake.”

“Like I said to dad, I like to surprise.” Harry smiled awkwardly, growing softer as his mother placed her hand on his arm and squeezed. 

“I’m excited to see what she looks like. Now go say hello to your grandparents.”

With a nod, Harry followed in the direction of his father, three voices growing louder until he pushed open the kitchen door. 

“There he is.” His grandfather’s deep voice perked up with joy, “How are you doing, kid?” 

“I’m good, thank you.” He replied, enveloped by a firm hug from his grandmother, her floral perfume filling his nose. 

“I hear we have a new addition to the family,” Euphemia moved away from Harry, trying to have a look into the bag. “Let's have a look at her.”

Without saying anything and with great care, Harry placed the bag onto the table, untying the ribbon that hid her from his family. Magic always seemed to surprise him because as he reached into the bag, Harry’s arm went further down than he had expected; after a few moments of searching, his fingers brushed against cold metal. 

 “Does the little lady have a name?” Lily asked as Harry placed the cage on the table. His hands shook as he unlocked the latch and allowed the adults to peer inside. 

“No, not yet.” Harry avoided eye contact with her, trying his hardest not to slip into parseltongue.

“She’s very pretty.” 

‘I like him’ Harry could practically hear the snake's ego rising, staring at his grandfather in hopes of more compliments.

The adults continued to coo over the snake for a few more moments, 

“Are we able to pick her up?” Lily asked, seemingly mesmerised by the little creature. 

”Uh, yes. As long as you’re careful.” A part of Harry knew that he should’ve said no to his mother, and when the tense voice belonging to the snake

‘If you even think about picking me up, I’ll-’

“Oh, I wouldn't do that.” Harry snapped forward, moving the snake away from his mother as she tried to reach into the cage. “I don’t think she’ll like that.” 

“Oh! Sorry, sweetie.” Lily jumped, looking surprised at Harry’s sudden change in decision. “We might be crowding her too much.” 

Harry nodded silently, keeping eye contact with the black pupils of the snake, who had equally grown quiet.

“She seems to be staring at you a great deal,” Euphemia commented, watching the reptile and boy interact. 

Without a second thought, which he would put down to the snakes doing, Harry spoke, “She’s most likely assessing whether she can take a bite out of me or not.” 

The room went silent, and it didn’t take long for Harry to realise why. Although he could not hear the snake language, as the room grew cold, Harry knew he had spoken in a tone he did not want to. 

“Harry…” His father was quiet, a sound to his voice that Harry could not decipher. 

For Harry, there were two ways it could go: he either faced it head-on or acted like a coward, not willing to face the inevitable judgement that he expected from his relatives, because no matter a friend or enemy, all could agree that speaking to snakes was that of taboo. 

For Harry, he decided he didn't want to go for the latter. 

“I don’t know why I speak Parseltongue.” Harry refused to look at his family. “No one, as far as I know in the family, does either. That’s why everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin; Malfoy and I were in a duel class. He conjured a snake, and it was then I learnt very quickly what people’s reaction to the ability is like.” 

Harry still hadn’t looked up, and no words had been spoken other than his own, so he continued. 

“I don’t speak Parseltongue unless I look at a snake, and they look back,” Harry explained. “I could hear her talking while we were in the shop; I could hear her above anything else. That’s why I was so averse to speaking in the shop, a bit of precaution.” 

“Harry, we-”

“I promise I’m not some evil mastermind because I speak it,” Harry cut his grandfather off, their lack of words now panicking him a little, “I’ve had some people fully convinced that I enjoy inflicting pain on the innocent.”

“We don’t think you’re some evil mastermind, silly boy.” Euphemia huffed, walking over to Harry and placing her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “I can speak for all of us when I say that we don’t care; it was just a surprise, that’s all.”

Harry released his breath, fully aware he had been holding it in.

“That- That’s a relief to hear.” Harry sighed, and as he let out the breath, he was pulled away from his grandmother and into the embrace of his parents, Harry returning their warm affections.

“No matter what you can or have done, nothing will change how much we love you.” His mum whispered in his ear, and Harry didn’t reply; he only squeezed his mother's hand harder.

“Are we keeping this a secret for now?” James murmured, looking intently at the snake who stared right back. 

“You can tell them, but I don’t want it to be brought up.” Harry shrugged, talking into his father’s shoulder, knowing they were talking about Sirius and the others, “I know it's something I can do, but it’s not something I enjoy talking about. People tend to have an unconscious reaction each time.” 

“Of course, honey, you won't have to worry about that.” Lily smiled.

“Is that why you were a bit... off when Malfoy spoke to us?” James asked, clearly out of concern. “You didn’t know where the snake was and couldn’t risk it?” 

“You had a run-in with Malfoy?” 

“Yes, he wasn’t following us; it was more of an unfortunate encounter.” James shrugged, brushing off the concern of the others. 

“And what did he think of Harry?” Lily looked between the two,  searching for an answer. 

“Well, I didn’t think he cared too much about Harry. All I said was he was a family friend we were looking after.” James pushed that hair from his face, not noticing Harry’s tense posture. “Malfoy doesn’t care about anyone other than his family or anyone that can benefit him.” 

“While I do believe you, Jamie. I don’t think Harry can agree with you.” Euphemia commented, her eyes fixed on the boy in question. 

“Harry?” All the adults turned to face him, their gazes heavy and full of questions. 

“Well, you see.” Harry gave a nervous laugh. “When Malfoy and I looked at each other, he, uh, tried to use legitimacy on me.” 

Raised voices erupted in the room. Harry was bombarded with too many questions to register one in his mind. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” James looked at Harry wide-eyed, a feeling of hurt evident. 

“Because I didn’t want to draw attention!” Harry reasoned, “I thought we wanted Sam to be someone people wouldn’t think twice about. We’d be in a completely different situation had I casually asked Malfoy not to look into my mind.” 

James faltered, knowing full well that if Harry had told him, he would’ve reacted as a father and not the character he was playing.

“You’re right, that would’ve been a terrible decision.” A look flashed in his father's eyes as he agreed; maybe it was anger that Malfoy had chosen to violate his son essentially or that the son in question hadn’t confided in him, Harry did not know. 

“How did you know? What Malfoy was trying to do?” 

“Dumbledore had wanted me to learn Occlumency in Fifth year, so I took a few lessons with Snape.” Harry rubbed a hand on his neck, “but I wasn’t too keen on it.”

“I see. Well, we should do something if there is another attempt.” 

“Maybe if we pick it back up?” Fleamont placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gently squeezed, “Having one of us teach you might be a bit easier.” 

Harry thought it over for a moment, it seemed like a good idea if something were to happen again, but the idea of someone poking around his memories made him shudder.  

“Is there anything else we could do? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t like the idea of someone in my head again, especially since the last two people in my head weren’t my favourite.” 

“That’s understandable, sweetie,” Euphemia reassured him, “I wasn’t fond of learning it either.” 

“So, since that’s off the table, what other options do we have?”

“I’m sure there are some books in the Library.” Lily suggested, “Spells or potions. There must be something else.” 

“What about runes?” James asked from his seat on the sofa. “Older magic is bound to be more useful.” 

At the nods from the adults around him, Harry wished that he had chosen to learn that subject rather than the interesting experience that was Divination. 

“How is it different?” He asked, slightly embarrassed to ask. 

“I can’t say the same for your reality, but here legitimacy was around before Occlumency-”

“Just to clarify, Legitimacy is accessing someone's mind and memories, while Occlumency is protecting your mind from someone?” Of course, Harry knew the difference between the two, but since there were slight differences between Harry’s previous reality and this one, he thought it would be best to ask. “It’s just that I don’t know if it might be different here-”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about asking questions,” Lily chuckled, her smile soft. “But you are correct with the differences.” 

At Harry’s quick nod, James continued. “So since Occlumency wasn’t a thing, runes were used as a means of protection. I’m not entirely sure where on the body and how, but I’m sure there are some books lying around.” 

The grim look on Lily’s face caught Harry’s attention, and he sent a curious look her way. Upon seeing her son's questioning gaze, Lily spoke up. 

“Are we sure that this is a good idea? Occlumency and runes are two different sides of the spectrum regarding skill.” 

“That is a good point.” Euphemia sighed, tapping her wand on her thighs, the rhythm exuding annoyance. 

“I just don’t want to see people get hurt.” Lily added, mistaking herself to be the subject of her annoyance.  

“Oh, Lily dear, I’m not annoyed at you.” Euphemia reassured, sending a bright smile her way. “It’s that there always seems to be something getting in the way.”

“We need someone who knows what they’re doing,” James began to pace, “Someone who won't start whispering to Dumbledore, Riddle or anyone for that matter.” 

“So no one.” Lily sighed, Fleamont having remained silent during the whole conversation. 

“Looks like it.” James huffed, finally acknowledging his father's silence. “Dad?” 

“There is someone, but it’s risky.” Fleamont eventually spoke up. “I trust him, but his family are quite Dumbledore-centric.”

Harry had wondered when the Weasleys would come to play a part.

Chapter Text

Harry had been confined to the manor for the last few days, much to his dismay but understanding. He could tell that his parents were obsessed with the idea that the minute he stepped back into Diagon Alley, someone would look him in the eyes and they would discover everything about him. Weirdly, Harry appreciated their over-the-top paranoia; maybe it was the fact that the two were his mother and father that Harry allowed them to do this to him. 

Harry also noticed that his parents had been exchanging letters for the past few days, and he was being kept in the dark. Of course, that was something Harry wasn’t happy with. He wanted to know what was being discussed, considering that he was the topic of the letters. 

He had tried to question his parents about what was happening, but they had given him little information, reassuring him that all was fine, and that their secrecy was because they didn’t want to get his hopes up, and he just had to trust them. 

However, after a few days of being kept at home and stuck with his thoughts, Harry was certain of who they were talking with. From his revelation, Harry had spent the entire morning hyping himself up to speak to his parents, to demand answers, though it seemed that his parents also decided that today Harry would know what was going on. 

“Harry, could we talk for a second?” His parents entered the kitchen, and from the tone of his mums voice, Harry knew what conversation would follow. 

“Is this about Bill Weasley?” In his head, Harry smiled, watching his parents freeze. He looked at Harry with shock, supposedly assuming he had been eavesdropping or reading their letters. 

“How did you-”

“You forget that the same people exist in my world,” Harry chuckled, noting the sheepish look on his parent's face. 

“We completely forgot about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry felt slightly guilty about his parent's reply – he certainly knew that they were forgetting or pretending to forget that Harry had come from a different world, Harry had started to do so himself. “It was a guess, really. Bill was the one who knew runes and anything curses in my world, so I had a feeling it might’ve been him.” 

“I see. Well, you guessed correct.” 

“So, I’m assuming he’s going to come to the house at some point to do whatever it is you’ve written about?” 

James looked at his watch, “In about ten minutes.” 

“Right, well, what exactly is going to happen?” Harry may have guessed who would be carrying out whatever would happen, but he was still completely in the dark about most of everything. 

“He’ll explain everything when he gets here,” Lily explained, “It was a bit too risky for him to explain through letters, but everything will be okay, we trust him.” 

Harry accepted that with little question; if his parents trusted Bill Weasley, then Harry saw no reason not to trust him. “Has he taken an unbreakable vow or something?” 

“He refused.” His dad seemed slightly annoyed at that, “he has a family to think about, and if there comes a time when more people know about you and talk about you, he should be able to say your name without worrying about the consequences.” 

“That seems fair; what about Dumbledore and the rest of the Weasleys?” 

“Bill says they shouldn’t be a problem, and from what we know, he doesn’t get involved with Dumbledore and keeps boundaries set.” 

At Harry’s nod, the sound of the floo activated echoed to the kitchen. His parents exchanged looks and told Harry to wait in the kitchen before leaving. He waited for about ten minutes, mindlessly tapping on the table until he heard footsteps and the door opening. 

The three adults walked in, Bill standing behind his mum and dad. 

“Harry, Bill. Bill, Harry,” His dad said, looking between the two.

“Hello.” Harry waved along with his simple words and was met with a few moments of silence. 

In those moments, Harry had a chance to look at the man. There was no doubt that this was Bill Weasley; he was no different from the wizard in his world. By looking at that man, a million questions entered Harry’s mind: about Ron and his family. However, Bill's words cut off his observations. 

“What the fuck.”  

Harry laughed out loud. He was expecting a reaction, of course, but not something like that. 

It must have dawned on Bill that he had spoken aloud: “I’m so sorry; I did not mean to say that aloud.” 

“I kind of gathered,” Harry snickered, standing up and walking closer to Bill, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too.” Bill looked Harry over several times. It was obvious that he had been sceptical of his parents' claim—maybe preparing to deal with two grieving individuals rather than what they claimed. “I’m guessing your, uh, parents have told you what I’m here for.” 

“Yep.” Harry glanced at the two in question, both giving him encouraging nods. 

“Right, well, let’s do this then.” 

James and Lily allowed them to go to one of the living rooms. However, as Harry entered the room, his mother told him they just needed to speak to Bill briefly and shut the door. Of course, Harry wouldn’t ignore that they were talking about him; he pressed his ear to the door, only managing to hear muffled voices. 

“Remember…no unbreakable vow…anyone…consequences.” 

Harry pulled away. The conversation was clearly threatening to Bill. It was apparent that his parents didn’t want him to hear them speak in such a way, so Harry moved away, not because he didn’t want to listen to his parents talk but instead because the conversation did not seem helpful to overhear. 

A few moments passed before Bill entered the room, seeming unaffected by his parent's words.

“I do apologise for my choice of language,” Bill gave a nervous chuckle as he shut the door behind him. 

“It’s fine, Bill, really. I’d have the same reaction if I were you.” Harry answered honestly, calming the man's nerves. Though Harry noticed Bill’s mouth kept opening and closing, “I don’t mind you asking questions.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course,” Harry didn’t mention having a few of his own. He was still uncertain if he wanted to ask what was running through his mind. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bill’s words surprised him. Harry had expected Bill to at least ask one, as it certainly seemed he had quite a few to ask. 

“We’ll do a simple protection rune for now,” Bill continued, setting his wand and a book on the table. “We'll see how well it holds up over the coming weeks.”

Harry nodded, watching intently as the man flicked through the pages, noticing all the intricate designs of the rune, all holding names that Harry could not decipher the meaning of but interested him greatly.

“Since we’re doing this to protect your mind, I’ll put it around your temple. Any side you particularly prefer.”

“Does it matter which side?”

“Not from past experiences,” Bill shrugged, picking up his wand and sitting on the table before Harry.

Harry looked right, offering the right side of his face to Bill – if he were to gain another mark on his face, then it might as well all be on one side.

“Quick decision,” Harry shrugged at his words, “It shouldn’t hurt, not even like someone is scratching you, okay?”

“Not even a scratch,” Harry repeated, instantly relaxing at the clarification.

“Nope, not even a scratch, now just sit as still as you can for me.”

Harry waited with bated breath, counting the number of tassels on the blanket over the armchair. Harry flinched ever so slightly when he felt the cold wood of Bill's wand press on his temples, moving in a way he could not recognise. It was a silent affair, Harry being too scared to breathe the wrong way. The silence continued for a few more minutes, Bill murmuring under his breath the steps of the process - hopefully to calm Harry and not remind himself of what he needed to do. 

“Oh.”

Bill’s words sent Harry into a panic. His words weren’t that of a murmur but rather out loud and full of confusion. 

“Oh? What do you mean, oh?” Harry side-eyed Bill, too scared to move and see what damage had been done. 

“It didn’t- I mean, I don’t know why, but it didn’t take.” Bill faced Harry, looking into his eyes, “What did you feel just then? No pressure or pain.”

“Nothing, I didn’t feel anything.” Harry’s voice rose in pitch, “You told me I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Breathe for me, Harry.” Bill held up his hands, placating Harry’s growing stress. “Maybe your magic reacted. Let me just try again.”

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted Bill to continue, “Why would it react?”

“Maybe since you’re not from this world, your magic doesn’t recognise it.” Bill guessed that Harry wouldn’t say it was an explanation because the uncertain look on the man's face suggested to Harry that he had pulled his words out of thin air. “Let me just try again.”

Harry turned his head to the side, the process repeating, the tip of Bill's wand tracing the pattern. However, as Bill progressed, Harry felt queasy. A heaviness in Harry’s stomach slowly climbed its way to Harry's head the more Bill progressed; as that feeling grew, Harry felt a pull behind his eyes, his vision becoming blurry until he felt flashes, flashes of somewhere he did not know,

He was in a room. A cold room illuminated by a simple candle.

He was at a desk, but Harry wasn’t himself. His hands were so pale, slender fingers and palms pressed on the mahogany wood, his arms covered in black fabric, and a ring glittered on his right hand.

He was so, so angry. Harry didn’t know why the red-hot anger radiated off his body in waves, mixing with the room's darkness and his soul.

“Harry?”

There was a knock at the door, sharp and to the point. A voice that was not Harry’s own allowed the individual to enter.

“Harry.”

The door swung open. Harry was still looking down, his Pinky tapping the desk in a basic rhythm. Someone entered the room. Harry could see the polished shoes and a cane that seemed so familiar.

“My Lord-”

“Harry!”

Harry’s head shot towards Bill, who had his hands on his shoulders, weighing down his heavy breathing.

“What happened?!” Harry could only describe Bill's face as stressed, “Are you okay?” 

“I-I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure? It didn’t take again, and you just vanished into your head, and your magic went so… so cold. I called you and was about to get your parents-” 

“I’m fine, Bill. Let’s just try again.” 

“No way!” Bill shook his head, glancing towards the door. He was probably expecting his parents to burst through the door, wands at the ready to defend their son. “It’s already failed twice; if something else happens-”

“Bill, please. Let’s just try the other side, and if that doesn’t work, we can find another way.”

Bill hesitated, watching Harry before looking back to the door and resigning. “Alright, but this is the last time.”

“Thank you,” Harry nodded sincerely, sitting back on the sofa and looking right.

The silence returned, but things were considerably more tense, and Harry could feel Bill's hesitation before he repeated the process for the third time. Thankfully, there had not been a repeat of what he had seen last time, but the lack of indication that it had worked still did not ease Harry’s nerves. 

“Did it work?” Harry’s voice was breathless, too scared to move.

“I- Yes.” Bill laughed slightly, “That’s- I don’t understand why it didn’t work?”

“I don’t know, but thank you.” Harry might’ve had a good guess as to why, but he was eager to change the man’s train of thought. “Let me go get my parents.”

Harry didn’t give Bill a chance to ask more questions, he walked to the door and opened it, only to find his parents standing mere steps away.

“Hello.” A wide-eyed Harry looked at his parents, both looking at him with equally wide eyes.

“So, did it work?” James searched Harry’s face,  looking for any sign of failure.

“I think so,” Harry smiled at the tension leaving the two in front of him, “See if you can have a look.”

Harry turned to Lily, and the two stared at each other intensely. Instead of feeling the sensation of someone reaching behind his eyes and into his mind, Harry felt nothing. He stared at his mother, whose brow had now furrowed. It stayed like that for a few moments before his mother huffed and drew back.

“Nothing.” She lightly laughed, “Couldn’t even get a sneaky look.”

“Amazing, absolutely amazing.” His father looked behind Harry, searching for Bill, and the teen moved out of the way. James took that as an invitation to move into the room, his mother following.

“Simply amazing, Bill. We can’t thank you enough.”  Lily hugged Bill, and the man brushed away her thanks.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.” Bill smiled, shaking hands and accepting hugs. “Although I should head back, Fleur will be wondering where I am.” 

“Of course,” James nodded, hesitation appearing in his eyes. “What will you tell her?” 

“Confidential ministry business,” He shrugged, “thankfully there’s enough trust between us that she won’t be suspicious.” 

“Thank you, Bill.” Lily's smile was sympathetic, “I know it’s not easy to lie to your loved ones.” 

Bill waved Lily off, “Don’t worry, Lily. In all honesty, this will keep her safe. Merlin knows what I’ve just signed up for.” 

 All the adults looked at Harry, a deep blush blooming on his cheeks. At his flush, the trio smiled at the boy. 

“Well, I better be off.” Bill straightened out his shirt and pocketed his wand. “If all ends well, I should be back in about a month to strengthen the rune again, but I’d still suggest checking every couple of days. Maybe note how easy it is to enter Harry’s mind, and we can see if early or later visits are needed.” 

“Fantastic, it may be too risky to send letters, so just come back on this day next month.” James' smile faltered a little, “And if anyone were to question where you go…” 

“I’ll tell them to mind their own business,” Bill said with a chuckle. “The last time someone got too nosy, Fleur certainly set them straight.” 

“Alright then, I guess we’ll see you in a month.” 

“I guess we will. I hope everything goes well for you all.” 

With that, Bill left the room and left Harry with his parents.

“It didn’t hurt or anything?” His mother asked before Harry had a chance to close the door behind him, looking him over for any sign of injury. 

Harry hesitated. He could tell his parents what he had seen and how the rune had suspiciously not taken on the side of his scar, but a large part of him wanted them not to worry. It was something he could figure out for himself for a little while. They already had enough on their plate, and Harry practically had nothing, so it was only fair. 

“Didn’t hurt one bit.” 

“No?” 

Harry shrugged. He felt terrible for wanting to escape his parents, but he knew that if he stayed any longer, they would eventually know that Harry was hiding something. 

“Actually, I need to ask Bill something quick.” Harry stepped away from the two, “I won’t be long.” 

“Oh, alright,” he received a subtle suspicious look from his mother, “let us know if anything happens.” 

“Of course,” Harry walked away from his parents, ignoring the feeling of their stares. He hoped that Bill had not left yet, and while he did use the excuse to leave his parents, what he was about to ask was something that he was genuinely curious about. 

“Uh, Bill?” Harry stood in the doorway, watching the man put on his jacket. 

“Harry,” Bill turned to face him, “Is something the matter?” 

“No, I just wanted to ask you something.” 

“Alright then, what’s the question?” 

“What does Ron want to be when he finishes Hogwarts?” Harry blurted out, wanting to just get the initial strangeness of the question out of the way.

“How do you know about-”

“Ron is- was my best friend,” Harry’s cheeks were slightly pink, “we met in First year on the train.”

A look passed over Bill’s face. Harry wasn’t sure what to call the emotion. After all, it was strange to hear that a boy from a different reality, a complete stranger, was his little brother's supposed best friend. At his continued silence, Harry grew weary.

“You don’t have to tell me; I get that it’s a weird question.”

Bill shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I think he wants to be an Auror. Mum doesn’t want him working for the ministry in any way, but he's a stubborn piece of work.”

“Sounds like Ron,” Harry snorted, “He wants to be an Auror in my world.” 

Maybe it was something in his face or tone of voice. Instead of replying, Bill walked over to Harry and touched his shoulder. “I’m sure I can have you two meet in the future. You deserve to have your best friend back.”

“I might have to pass on that,” Harry shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck as Bill removed his hand, “Ron doesn’t know me, and I don't know your Ron. Plus, as weird as it sounds, no version of Ron will replace the Ron that’s my best friend. 

“I get it, but if you ever change your answer, just give me a shout.” 

“Will do.” 

Harry waved goodbye as Bill left through the floo, calling a home he did not recognise. The room went silent, and Harry had a moment to think. He was lost at what he had seen. Was it a vision, or was he finally facing the consequences of travelling through the mirror? 

“You okay, Harry?” His dad had been watching him for who knows how long Harry had been trapped in his thoughts. It was most likely quite apparent by now that his parents could sense something was wrong.

“I’m okay. I want to check out the library for books on runes—Bill was talking to me about it, and it seemed interesting.” Harry wasn’t sure whether his dad believed him or not, but the man did not push further.

“You’ll have to tell your mother and me what you’ve found,” James gestured to Harry to follow him to the library. “If I remember right, they should be on the right side of the library. Do you want help looking for some?” 

Harry shook his head. “It’s alright. I’m not looking for anything in particular. Thank you, though.” 

James cupped Harry’s cheek with his palm, and the pair smiled at each other before James left Harry alone. He was quite accustomed to the library now, having remembered where the sections on runes were located. He wandered down the aisle, brushing his fingers lightly across the spines of books, collecting a layer of dust on his fingertips. 

A beginner's guide to potions. 

The history of how to impress a hippogriff.

The dangers of Horcruxes and why one should not make them.

How to survive a forbidden forest.

Harry stopped, tracing his steps backwards until he reached the book on Horcruxes. He did have to admit that the title intrigued him, and so did the dust coating the leather-bound pages. Tracing the golden words on the black material, Harry was tempted to take the book with him – he wasn’t sure why the temptation was there, maybe it was just teenage curiosity, but Harry restrained himself; he had more important things to look up.

Chapter Text

Harry had never thought that owning a snake would be such fun; his bias towards the slippery creatures was no doubt from his bias towards Slytherin, but the small reptile, to whom he had given the name Eden, was quite the chatterbox– a mean one at times. Her new home had been set up in Harry’s room, which was both a blessing and a curse; it was nice to always have someone, although said someone was a snake, to talk to, to speak in a language that no one in the house could listen to. 

With the new addition to the family, Harry had taken some control of talking parseltongue now that he had access to a snake all the time and people who actively encouraged him to talk in the snake language. His mum and dad would practice with him, helping him regulate the switch between the two languages to the point he could switch as easily as blinking. 

Not only that, but Bill's runes had worked perfectly. Harry still did not mention the events that occurred during it, but he and his mum had been testing the block every morning and evening to find that it still had not wavered. Due to these successes, Harry found that his parents were much more welcoming to the idea of taking Harry back to Diagon Alley. He could not go anytime soon, as his family was busy with work, and his grandparents had left for a small holiday, so Harry was left to keep himself busy through solo Quidditch games and scouring the library. 

Will you stop your daydreaming, Harry. 

The boy snorted, resuming his previous actions of continuously dragging a finger down his snake's body, the two engaging in mindless talk on his bed. 

That’s better. 

“You know, you could say please once in a while.”

Now, why would I do that? If a snake could roll its eyes, Eden would be the master of it. As my sole caretaker, you should know that this is something that I should not have to ask for. 

“My bad,” Harry shook his head. “Dorcas will be here soon, so please be nice to her.”

Harry knew that his parents were still feeling guilty for leaving Harry on his own, and so they had invited Dorcas to their home. Harry appreciated their worry about his loneliness, but while it did tackle his daily boredom, it also gave him a chance to connect with family. 

I do not understand why you tell me to be nice. It’s not as if they can understand what I’m saying. 

“Yes, but I know what you’re saying and sometimes I can’t ignore you.”

There was a knock on the door before she could reply, no doubt with something smart.

“Come in!” Harry called. As soon as those words left his mouth, the door burst open to reveal Dorcas in the doorway.

“Well, then, let me see the little lady.” Without giving a hello, Dorcas headed straight for Eden's enclosure, Harry ignoring Edens remarks of Dorcas not spotting her in Harry’s hands.  

“You can see the little lady over here,” Harry snorted, watching the witch inspect the reptile home .

“Move up, you,” Dorcas appeared next to Harry in a flash, nudging him repeatedly, prompting Harry to move backwards as she sat before him, demanding to see his pet. Not wanting to be poked more, Harry carefully removed Eden, who had wrapped around his wrist and manoeuvred her into a tight but gentle hold. 

“Oh, she’s gorgeous.” Harry then spent the next five minutes silent as he watched Dorcas admire his snake, and she was certainly lapping up the attention. 

I like her. She finally hissed to Harry, turning her attention back to Dorcas.

“She likes you.” Harry clarified at Dorcas’s curious glance.

“So you really can really talk to her.” Dorcas moved her hand towards Eden, smiling when her small tongue flickered.  

“Yep,” Harry ran his finger down her head, “It’s both a good and bad thing.” 

It is a wonderful thing, you insolent boy. Now, take me back; I wish to sleep.

Harry snickered at her words but complied nonetheless. After placing his pet back into her enclosure, Harry turned around to find Dorcas lying on his bed. 

“I thought you were here to see me, not have a nap.” 

“Just making myself comfortable now, come lay down.” She patted the space next to her, and Harry jumped on the mattress and laid next to her. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t decorated this place,” Dorcas commented after a moment of silence. “It still feels like you’re a guest.” 

She was speaking the truth. His parents had asked multiple times if Harry wanted to decorate his room, for he had been moved closer to them, but something always put him off. 

“I’ve never had a room this big before on my own, nor have I decorated one, so I don’t know what to do.” Harry didn’t want to go into too much detail about his complicated thoughts about his room, so he gave that reason. 

“Well then, it must be fate that I’ve come here today, for I myself am quite an adept decorator.”

“I swear I heard Marlene complain about a yellow rug you brought home the other day.”

Dorcas lightly pinched Harry’s side, causing him to let out a small, surprised yelp, “she simply does not understand my vision at times.”

“And I will?” Harry raised a brow, watching as Dorcas waved her wand, several pieces of parchment, and two quills flew into the room. " That probably came from Dad’s office, you know.”

“He can deal with a little mess.” Dorcas promptly sat up, reaching over to the bedside table where a book lay, placing it on the bed with the paper on top, “So, what vibes are we going for?”

“Vibes?” Harry raised a brow, a smile on his lips. 

“Yes, vibes,” she gave a confident nod, “Are you thinking Quidditch, maybe Gryffindor?” 

“A bit basic, no?” 

“Well, I hardly know anything about you!” Dorcas huffed, scribbling out whatever she had drawn on the parchment. 

Dorcas indeed had a point. While Harry had been bonding with his parents and grandparents, he certainly wasn’t on the same level as the others who cared deeply for him. They had their own lives, so Harry could not see them as much as he had wished. 

“Don’t worry, though,” Dorcas nudged Harry; there was most likely a look on his face that gave away his thoughts, “We have plenty of time to change that.”

“Definitely.” 

“Come to annoy me, have you?” Harry didn’t even get a chance to make himself known before Lily, who had her back to her son, spoke. 

“How did you-” 

“You are your father's son, Harry,” Lily shrugged, turning to face Harry and gesturing him closer. “I could hear you coming from a mile away.” 

Harry blushed, walking up to his mum and taking in his surroundings. He hadn’t fully been in her potion room before, and it certainly met the expectations he had made up. It was the cleanest and messiest place. Harry couldn’t quite place the room's smell, but it was indeed pleasant. The shelves were stacked with various vials and jars, liquids of different colours and textures, and not-so-enjoyable ingredients. 

“Could you not have opaque jars for these ingredients?” Harry stood next to his mum, watching her mix a lavender potion. From the smell, he knew it was a calming draught. “It feels like I’m being watched.” 

“Well, there are several jars of eyes here.” Lily snickered at the grim look on Harry’s face, “So, are you here to annoy me?” 

“I haven’t decided yet; I’ll see what Dad’s doing and choose who is the lucky one.” 

“How lovely. While you’re here, pass me three peppermints.” He promptly did so as he asked. Harry and Lily fell into a quiet routine of Harry helping. 

“How was your time with Dorcas?”

“It was fun, she helped me figure out what I want to do with my room.” 

“I hope you didn’t give her total control, some of her choices are rather questionable.” 

Harry snickered, handing his mum a few more ingredients. “I did have to stop her at some points, some of her suggestions were questionable to say the least.”

The two fell back into a quite flow go Harry handing his mum ingredients and engaging in small talk.

“How long have you liked doing potions?” 

“I used to hate it,” Lily admitted, instructing Harry to stir the potion as she grabbed an empty vile, “Being a muggle-born, it was all very intimidating, and I didn’t quite click until my best friend helped me.” 

Harry had a feeling who the best friend was. 

“Hermione’s tried everything to help me, but I just can’t get the hang of it,” Harry decided he wanted to do a little bit of prodding, “Are you still friends with them now?” 

“No, we haven’t been for a while,” his mum said in a distant tone, maybe that of reminiscing. “He helped me get the hang of things, but something happened during school, and I decided I had to be top of class out of spite, and it ended up being my career.” 

Harry smiled at his mum’s confession, imagining a 15-year-old Lily determined to beat Snape, something he wished he could see. 

“What about you, Harry? What do you want to be when you’re older?” 

“Well, I’m not sure if I’ll have the same opportunities now, but I wanted to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Harry didn’t mean to sound so harsh, so he ignored the frown on his mother's face. 

“I see; what made you want to be a professor?” 

“Remus, actually, when he taught me in third year, I knew I wanted to be one,” Harry smiled at the memories. “Though around fourth and fifth year, I wanted to be an Auror, and everyone seemed to encourage that idea, but the professor route was always there.” 

“Well, I think you’d be a great professor. What did you get in your Owls?” 

“I got an O for defence,” Harry’s smile was wide, “So I guess it was fate that I went in either direction.” 

“Well, let’s hope that you end up doing either.”

Harry nodded, suddenly eager to learn more about his mum. “So you run a shop in Diagon Alley?” 

“Yep, I opened a few years after our Harry passed. It was a way to distract us for a little while. James had found a distraction in taking up the Lordship, so I needed to do something myself.” Lily waved her wand, vanishing the last remnants of the calming draught, “I wasn’t planning on making it my full-time career. With the Potter money, I wouldn’t have needed to work a day in my life, but I fell in love with helping people.” 

As somber as the topic was, Harry was glad to have known. People only ever tended to talk about what his father was, never his mother. Maybe in his own reality, his mum hadn’t wanted to be a potion master, but at least he knew something.

“What’s it like working with potions?” 

“You either have great or awful days. Purebloods screaming at you about useless muggleborns or potions exploding I’m not particularly fond of, but it does give me great joy to kick those purebloods with a silver spoon up their arses out of my store.” 

“I bet, do things ever get out of hand?” 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle; your grandmother used to work with me as well; she had a knack for potions and scaring people off.” 

Upon his mother mentioning his grandparents, Harry wondered about his mother's family. 

“What about your parents? You haven’t mentioned them before.” 

“I don’t really speak to them anymore,” A sad smile graced his mum's face, and Harry immediately felt bad. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hush, silly,” Lily nudged Harry with her elbow. “It was hard to connect with them after joining Hogwarts. I loved them immensely, and I still do now, but there’s always been a feeling of disconnect, and after losing Harry, I cut contact with Petunia after a few words from Vernon.” 

A dark look passed Lily’s face, and Harry could only guess his uncle's comments. 

“That’s all in the past now. I have you, James, my job, and my family.” Before Harry knew what was happening, Lily had brushed a stray strand of hair from Harry’s face, brushing his hair back, and Harry could see her eyes follow his scar. She stared at Harry for a moment before a flicker in her eyes told Harry she had remembered something.

“I just remembered, your father and I have to attend an annual ball next week, so you’ll be on your own for a couple of hours.” 

“Okay, I’m sure I’ll find a way to entertain myself.” 

“You don’t have to be alone, 

“Mum, honestly, I’ll be fine. Like you said, it’ll only be for a couple of hours.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m very sure.” Harry gave his mum a hard stare, very clearly trying to make his point across. 

One of Lily’s hands went to his face, cupping his cheek. “If you’re sure,” she said. She then gave his cheek a quick and gentle slap. “Now go annoy the hell out of your father.” 

Harry kissed her cheek with a sharp grin and ran to find his unsuspecting father.

Chapter Text

The week leading up to the ball had come quickly. From what he could understand, the ball was held at the beginning of the spring season, supposedly for those high up in the ministry to mingle and discuss and it reminded Harry of Slughorn’s little club.

Harry was slightly upset at his inability to go, not because he couldn’t socialise but rather because he wanted to see grown adults making snide jabs like young children. 

“Here to see us off, are you?” Harry looked up from his sitting position on the stairs, seeing his dad walking down the stairs, briefly ruffling Harry’s hair as he passed. He was wearing black dress robes, nothing too out of the ordinary except when he stood in the light, Harry could see a darker embodied pattern on the fabric. 

“Definitely had to see your excited faces leaving the door.” Harry snickered, watching the grimace on his father's face. 

“I bet you are,” James huffed, straightening out his robes, pausing momentarily before a grin etched his face. “Let’s place a bet?” 

“A bet?”

“How many times do you think I can subtly insult Malfoy?” 

Harry raised a brow at his father's proposition. “Subtly insult?” 

“It’s my favourite pastime at these events.”  

Harry pretended to be in deep consideration. 

“I would agree, but that’s a bit unfair.” 

“Unfair?”

“Yep.” Harry nodded. “Since you’ve done it every time and I’m not going, how am I supposed to believe what number you say?”

"You'll just have to trust me." 

Harry looked at his dad for a moment, noting the enjoyment in his eyes.

“Alright, what do I win?” 

James pretended to think, “Whoever wins gets breakfast in bed for a month, and the loser has to not only cook breakfast but they have to clear out all the garden gnomes on their own.” 

“No one will be dealing with garden gnomes on their own.” 

James looked above Harry’s head to where Lily was no doubt standing on the top step. 

“How do I look?” His mum carried on, giving a little twirl and her husband and son looked at her. 

“Beautiful.” 

Harry couldn’t agree more with his father's words. It was one thing to see Lily Potter in a picture but to gaze upon her in person was a completely different story. His mother truly was beautiful walking down the stairs of their home; she wore a floor-length dress, light reflecting off the maroon satin. Curls framed her smiling face as she made her way down to James and Harry. The jewellery on her wrists glittering, and on her right arm Harry could make out a concealed wand holster and the concealment reflected in the light. 

“You look amazing, Mum.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Lily kissed Harry’s forehead before turning to James. "Are you ready for an evening of torture?”

“With you, Lily-flower, any day.” James gave a deep bow, Harry laughing loudly as Lily curtseyed equally low.

“Don’t have too much fun.” Harry waved them goodbye, funnily enough, feeling like a parent waving his children goodbye.

Lily gave Harry a nervous look, “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“I promise I’ll be okay,” Harry chuckled, touched by the displayed worry. “I know who and where to go to if anything happens.”

“Don’t hesitate to ask the house elves for anything,” James reminded, pulling Lily towards the door, “And throw a nasty hex if anyone breaks in or if it’s just Sirius.”

“Not funny, James.” Lily gave her husband a blank look, the man giving a cheeky grin in return. 

“Mum, I’ll be perfectly fine, don’t worry.” Harry took a few steps towards Lily, giving her a tight hug, “Now go have fun.”

“I think that is entirely impossible, Harry.”

“We could be home right now,” Lily huffed, downing the last drops of her champagne, “Instead of spending time with our son-”

“Lils, we’ve been here just under two hours,” James cut Lily off, not wanting nosy ears to hear about their son, who was most likely having a better time than they were, “A couple more hours, then we can leave.” 

Lily let out a large sigh, facing the crowd of people before her. They only had to do this event once a year, but each year, it was exactly the same; avoiding the Minister and his lackeys and Dumbledore and his followers was a very tiring night indeed. To make things worse, the evening fell on the night two days before a full moon, which meant that neither Sirius nor Remus would be making an appearance.

The two were quiet, a comfortable silence considering their situation. The enchanted violins were playing a slow melody, with most of the dance floor being overrun with couples dancing. When music came to an end, a light clap filled the hall, and out of the corner of his eye, James could see a few individuals looking over to them, no doubt looking for conversation. 

“I believe we may have some company in a moment.” James held his hand out towards Lily, “Do you fancy a dance?” 

"I suppose so." Lily tried to seem nonchalant, but she failed with the smile on her face.

"Wonderful." James bowed, kissing the back of Lily's hand.

“This is all your fault, you know.” The pair took their place close to the centre of the dance floor as the next melody began. "All your fault that we're here."

“My fault? And how might that be.” It was easy to fall into a sway, husband and wife hand in hand as they moved to the music, an elegant display of their affection for one another.

“Choosing to be the all-mighty Lord Potter,” Lily dramatically sighed, “and now I have to deal with all the pompous assholes who can’t wait to get their hands on you.”

“Well, you know that you’re the only one who gets to put their hands on me.” The two shared a sweet kiss, uncaring of the older Lords and Ladies sent them disgusted looks, no matter how brief the moment was the idea of public affection, or in some cases a love filled marriage should not be displayed openly.

“Well, it seems that you’ll have to wait,” Lily stepped away as the music ended.

“And why do I have to wait?” James followed Lily as she walked off, and he realised she had dropped him off where a platter of champagne and food was hovering close.

“Because I need to go to the bathroom.” With that, Lily patted James’s heart and left him alone.

In the time waiting for Lily, James had time to observe. It was like every time this event arrived, Minister Riddle took up the room; his tall stature and the way his magic radiated off him were impossible to ignore. Thankfully, in the two hours they had been here, he had not made his way over to them; he wished that it would be the case for the rest of the night, but it was unlikely. He had spotted the rest of Riddle’s followers, the Malfoys and Yaxley, were making their rounds, and thankfully, James had not heard the cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange, so he could only guess that she had been sent on some type of business. 

James was not even given a chance to look for Dumbledore before he felt the man’s magic behind him.

“James, my boy, I was wondering when I would find you.”

One down, one more to go.

“Dumbledore, how are you?” A bright purple suit assaulted James’s eyes, a step up from the blue one the year prior.

“I’m doing quite splendidly this evening, thank you.” Blue eyes scanned around the vicinity of James, “No Lily this evening?”

Before James could answer, Lily gripped his shoulder, “No need to worry, Albus, I’m here.”

“Ah, Lily.” Dumbledore nodded in greeting, “How are you recovering from your illness?”

“I’m well, thank you.”

Of course, James had not said outright that Lily was sick, but he was right in the fact that gossip travelled like wildfire in the Ministry, so he could only imagine what would’ve happened if Harry was known to a few gossipers he knew.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

It went silent following Dumbledore's words, James and Lily wanting nothing more than to leave, but it seemed that the old man had other ideas.

“How have the pair of you been all together, apart from Lily’s sickness, of course. It has been quite a while.”

“We’re fine, busy with work and family.”

“And how are they all fairing? It is a shame that Remus and Sirius could not make it tonight.”

“They are doing just as well, and since the full moon is so close, it was best Remus didn’t exert himself.”

“Of course, and how is Remus coping with the lowering of the amount of Wolfsbane given?”

It seemed Dumbledore had broken the record for how quickly he wanted to enter the political discussions.

“Albus-”

“I only wish to inquire since there is a discussion of a price increase-”

“If you wish to discuss these topics, Albus, I highly recommend finding someone else or bringing it up during the sessions.”

“Speaking of sessions…” The older wizard trailed off, pausing when James and Lily both gave 

“If you would just listen,” Dumbledore held his hands up, a placating “There is a small gathering-”

“No,” Lily halted Dumbledore, the older man stuttering in hopes of persuading. “You know very well that we do not get involved with anything other than basic duties unless necessary.”

“Now, Lily-”

“I believe Lily gave you our answer,” James interrupted Dumbledore yet again, “I’m not sure how many times you will understand in that senile head of yours, but keep us out of whatever tiff you’re having with Riddle.”

“James, Lily, I-”

“Goodbye, Dumbledore. Have a pleasant rest of your evening, and leave us alone.” James and Lily walked off, a mutual and silent agreement that they were leaving for the night, no matter if they hadn’t been there long enough for it to be acceptable.

They weaved in between crowds; if they had their way, they would’ve apparated the moment Dumbledore stepped away, but not only would it have been a consequence of heavy action, but also Riddle had made it impossible to do so.

“Is it too early to leave?” Lily muttered, sending thin smiles to those they passed.

“If we hide out on the balcony for a while, then we can make our escape.”

“If one person-”

“Lord and Lady Potter,” Tom Riddle's smooth voice sounded behind the two. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Lily groaned under her breath, James snorting at her words. After a moment, they turned around to greet the Minister; as always, he was dressed to the nines in a black robe with intricate gold and green stitching.

“Minister Riddle, wonderful event as always.” James nodded, gripping Lily’s hand.

“I’m glad you approve,” Riddle dipped his head slightly, “it’s good to know that my guests are happy.”

James and Lily nodded, maroon eyes staring at the pair. Riddle no doubt expected them to talk to him, but with the silence he was met with, Riddle continued.

“I’m glad to have you back in the sessions, Lord Potter. Your opinions are always appreciated and have missed them these past weeks.”

“I’m glad to be back,” James said, looking Riddle in the eye. “After all, some do tend to hide their true feelings on matters, so honesty is always important.”

“Of course,” Riddle’s face grew serious, but eyes glinting with something, “If you have any concerns with the honesty of others, please bring it to my attention. I detest dishonesty.”

“I will keep that in mind.” James nodded. 

The trio engaged in a stiff conversation. Talking vaguely about recent discussions proposed bills, James and Lily intentionally keeping their opinions vague; while they could outright refuse political talk with Dumbledore, denying the Minister would be a more tricky thing to do. 

An agonising ten minutes passed before fate seemed against them, as Lucius decided to join them. 

“Lord Potter. Lady Potter, ”

“Malfoy.” It was Lily who greeted the blonde wizard, knowing full well of his distasteful feelings towards her.

If the pair were unable to outright insult Lucius in the presence of Riddle, they would certainly take any opportunity for subtlety.

“I see that Lord Black is not here.”

Riddle watched the exchange quietly.

“Yes, he wasn’t going to leave Remus on his own so close to the full moon.”

“I see, and how is Lupin?”

“He is okay, fairing the circumstances, of course.”

Riddle made a noise of concern, “I do apologise for arranging this event so close. It slipped my mind that the date was so near to a full moon.”

It most likely hadn’t slipped his mind.  

“There’s always next year,” Lily's smile was a bit too wide, “I can send you the upcoming dates when the time arrives.”

“That would be most appreciated,” If Riddle had been irked by Lily’s words, he did not show it. 

“Fantastic. Now, Lily and I must be on our way-”

“Actually, Lord Potter,” Lucius interrupted, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, “I was wondering who that boy was who you were with at Magical Menagerie.” 

“Oh?” Riddle raised a brow, a curious look as James and Lily froze. Of course, James had told Lucius the day at the Magical Menagerie, but it seemed that the blonde wanted to stir some things. 

“It seems that your memory is not as it were, Lucius.” James mocked concern. “I do remember telling you that he was simply a friend’s son.” 

“Perhaps, although the more… unimportant things seem to slip out of my mind more often.” 

It seemed that Riddle did not want to be involved in whatever would transpire if the conversation continued, “And who is this family friend, might I ask?” 

“You will not know of them, his family lives out of the country,” Lily answered, her tone clear that the conversation would go no further. 

“I see.” Riddle nodded, seemingly unaffected by the blunt but vague answer, and they hoped that Riddle would quickly forget. “Well, I do hope this boy is enjoying his time with you. If he wishes to visit the ministry, I will be happy to give a tour.”

“Thank you, Minister. I’m sure he will appreciate the gesture.”

After that, it faded into another bout of silence. Lily entwined her hands with James, giving a tight squeeze, which James gave in return. 

“As much as it has been a lovely evening, James and I must head home.”

“Is there no way I could get you to stay for a little while longer? There are a few people I know who would love to speak to you two.” 

“I’m afraid not. I’ve got a rather busy day of work tomorrow.” 

“Such a shame, but I’m glad your business is still going well.”

“Thank you, Minister.” Lily nodded, stepping back slightly, hoping to make it clear that the two wished to go. 

Once again, Lucius enjoyed extending their suffering. 

“Before you disappear for the evening, I hear you had a run-in with Lord Flint a few weeks ago?” 

“Yes, well, I don’t tolerate being insulted and yelled at in my own store,” Lily shrugged, a smile on her face. “He crossed the line and dealt with the consequences.” 

“Landing him in St Mungo's was a consequence?” 

“My wife is able to defend herself however she sees fit,” James bit out, staring down Lucius. “After all, Flint has been known to target muggleborns without reason.” 

“Flint-”

“That’s enough, Lucius.” Riddle’s voice was sharp and commanding, and Lucius went quiet immediately. “I will not have you ruin this wonderful evening so far.” 

“I apologise, Minister.” Malfoy dipped his head, eyes downcast. 

“Please go find Yaxley; I must speak with him in a moment.” 

Lucius hurried off, sending a scathing look towards Lily and James, both smiling innocently at him. 

“I do apologise for Lucius’ behaviour.” Riddle looked to his left, watching the blonde leave. “I find the he forgets his standing most times.”

“It’s fine.” Lily shrugged, “Thank you again, Minister, but we really must go now.” 

“I shan’t keep you two any longer.” Riddle shook their hands, “Oh, and I will be sure to speak to Lord Flint about his behaviour.” 

“I appreciate that, Minister.” There was sincerity to Lily’s words, “But I’m sure he’s learnt his lesson.” 

“I don’t doubt that, but it will be good to give a reminder.” 

At Riddle's words and Yaxley approaching, James and Lily finally left. The two walked out of the main hall hand in hand, a lot on their minds. Whether Riddle will say something to Flint was at the end of their list of worries. Dumbledore’s insistence on the pair getting involved with him or Lucius mentioning the day at Magical Menagerie was a clear signal to Riddle that something was happening in their family; it was clear either way that certain individuals would get too nosy. 

It was something they didn’t need right now, but what was on their minds right now was to get back to their son and ignore the stares of both Riddle and Dumbledore as they finally slipped away and out of sight. 

Chapter Text

To Tom Riddle, weakness was the greatest sin that any man or woman could have.

For years, he’d been that weak child, scraping for some control of his life. 

He’d come to understand that control was not earned, it was taken by force - just like the life he’d forced out of Billy Stubb’s rabbit under the oppressive care of Mrs Cole, or the fear he forced down the throat of Purebloods whose noses were turned up at the sight of him. It was fifth year when things slid into place for him when he understood that he was made for so much more, and he grasped control by its fragile neck.

He had planned everything meticulously.  He rose from the bottom of the tower right to the top, standing as the brave soul that fought Voldemort, casting him to the shadows — like the wizarding worlds own version of the muggle superhero comics Tom had seen the children at the orphanage reading. If he could not carry on with the fear, he could grow idolisation from it. 

It had worked all so well, he was able to feed the darker part of him under the guise of Voldemort but evolve under the title of Minister of Magic and put in motion the future of his name and life. 

Of course, there would always be hiccups along the way, but Dumbledore was growing to be a senile old man and once he was dealt with his opposition would begin to crumble. 

He clenched his hands at the thought of the ever thorn in his side that was Dumbledore, his nails digging into his palm as he welcomed the pain but his show of anger was not welcome. He had been troubled as of late, his once controlled anger spiking more often, and he could not explain why. He had his theories that it began the night he collapsed but Severus still could not explain why it had happened. 

He was perfectly healthy and had no reason to lose consciousness. So, it was only logical that someone was behind it. He just had to find out who.

Before Tom could think about his troubles more, there was a quick knock at the door, followed by his secretary opening the door, “Minister Riddle, your five o’clock is here.”

“Send him in.”

The door shut quietly and Tom only had to wait a few moments before it opened again, and Lucius stepped through, stopping just in front of his desk. 

“Minister.” He gave a nod of his head, which Tom did not return. 

“What is it that you need to talk about, Lucius?” 

Lucius straightened his shoulders, gripping his cane, “It’s about Potter. I think they’re hiding something.” 

Tom chuckled, his hand briefly touching his chin. He knew very well that James and Lily were hiding something from him, for he always paid close attention to the couple. The two had always made their feelings known, that they only interacted with him because they must as heads of the Potter household. If they were anyone insignificant, Tom would’ve had them dealt with at the beginning, but they were important. As much as James pretended otherwise, he held an influence over the weaker houses; his companionship with Lord Black could not be swayed, so it was imperative that, while indeed strained, their relationship remained neutral at best.

“Yes, I believe they are. I suppose it was from your encounter the other day?” 

“Yes, Minister.”

Lucius went quiet, Tom raising a brow at the man.

“Well? What happened in that shop, Lucius?”

Lucius let out an awkward cough, his feet shifting. “He was walking around with a boy, claiming him to be a family friend, but the way Potter looked at the boy suggested otherwise.”

“And the boy himself?” 

“Acting like a skittish animal, at least he had some manners.” 

Tom went quiet for a moment, slowly picking up his wand. 

“And what was his name?”

“Sam. Perhaps an illegitimate son?”

Tom couldn't help the scoff that left his lips. 

“While the majority of Lords in the building would gladly sire illegitimate children, James Potter is not one of them.”

If there were one thing that Tom would praise the Potters for, it would be their loyalty to one another. It was both infuriating and admirable as total loyalty was a rare thing these days.

"I'm not sure who the boy could be then." 

"Well, we'll have to find out then, won't we?”

“What would you like me to do?” 

“Nothing for now,” Tom twirled his ebony wand between his fingers, “I don’t want them followed or questioned.”

“But if they’re hiding something…”

“Then, when Dumbledore begins to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong, I shall lend a helping hand to the Potters.”

“You believe that Dumbledore knows?” 

“That senile fool is never too far away from them, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he were following them right this moment.”

Lucius hesitated but did not question further.

“As you wish, Minister.” 

He turned to leave, and just as he reached the door, Tom stopped him. 

“Inform the Knights to watch Dumbledore and his lackeys. I want them to stay away from James and Lily for now, make sure they don’t even glance towards them, I want no inclination that we are interested.” 

“Of course, Minister.” 

The door shut with a short click, and Tom was cast back into silence. He waved his wand, and the door locked, pulling a book out from his drawer as he did so. 

Immortality: A theory on how to achieve greatness.

He still had a long way to go. His hunt for immortality led to end after end, and Tom was growing impatient. For now, he could ignore the activities of James and Lily, and once he achieved his goal of total power, he could deal with wayward witches and wizards.

It was quiet in the drawing room, apart from the flicker of flames and the turning of pages. Remus and Harry were in their respective armchairs, content simmering in the room as they enjoyed their books and each other's company. With Remus still too weak to go back to work and Sirius having to go to the ministry, the werewolf had offered Harry to spend the day with him, which he gladly accepted.

They had been sitting in silence for a couple of hours now, Harry enjoying Quidditch through the ages, something different to the endless book on runes that filled his room.

He had almost finished the fifth chapter when he felt it. He felt his shoulders tense, and his magic sparked, something that only ever happened when he felt particularly angry.

Or whenever Voldemort did.

At that remembrance, Harry slammed his book shut and sat up straight, instantly catching Remus's attention.

“Harry?” He asked, brown eyes filled with concern, “Are you okay?”

“Yep, I’m fine.” Harry gave a quick nod, his chest rising and falling deeply.

“You certainly don’t look fine.” Remus had now closed his own book, getting up from his position on the armchair and going to Harry.

“I promise, Remus. I’m fine, I’m just getting a bit warm.” He held his hand up, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Harry, you-”

“For Merlin’s sake, Remus. I said I’m fine!”

The silence was just as unbearable as Harry’s mortification. He watched the wide-eyed Remus, his mouth opening and closing while Harry's mind went into a panic.

He tried to convince himself that he didn’t know what happened, but the anger that sparked for no apparent reason was all too familiar. However, instead of Hermione or Ron staring at him with wide eyes, it was Remus. It been so long since something similar had happened to him, apart from the time Bill put the runes in place, Harry had not expected to feel any connection to Voldemort.

“God, Remus.” Harry stammered, his voice shaking, “I don’t know why I snapped like that.”

While certainly not a healthy thing to do with all the other secrets Harry was carrying, he chose not to think of the possibility of Voldemort reaching him.

“Harry, it’s okay-”

Harry shook his head aggressively, “No, no, it’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”

“Harry-”

“Please, Moony, just accept my apology.”

Remus stayed quiet; he stared at Harry for a moment before a sigh left his lips. “Alright, Harry. I accept your apology.”

Harry nodded, knowing that Remus felt he did not need to apologise, but Harry accepted whatever he could get. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Remus’s hand came into Harry’s view, landing on his arm and rubbing soothingly.

“We all have our moments, Harry. Sometimes we can’t explain why-”

“But this only happens- no, this never happens.”

“There’s always a first for everything.” Remus shrugged, and Harry let out an amused snort.

“I guess.” He smiled weakly at Remus, staring intently over the top of his head before looking down. 

It went silent again, Harry rubbing a page in his book between his fingers. He didn’t want to think of what this meant. He finally had the chance to escape Voldemort. Sure, it wasn’t the most conventional means of escape, on top of what happened with Bill and the rune, but it was nice for Harry nonetheless.

“Maybe it had something to do with the runes?” Remus said gently, sensing Harry’s panicked thoughts. “I hear there may be side effects to runes, or maybe it’s just weakening.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Harry shrugged, not really sure what to say.

“How about some tea?” Remus ruffled Harry’s hair as the boy nodded.

Harry didn’t think much when Remus walked away. He hoped that the man wouldn’t say anything to his mum and dad about what happened, but he knew he would. Of course, he could blame it on his proclivity for his unpredictable temper, but in reality, these people didn’t know Harry well enough to believe that as the answer.

“Two sugars,” Harry jumped when Remus came into his line of sight and offered him the mung, “I know you prefer one, but I thought you might want something sweeter.”

“Thank you.” Harry gave a small smile, sipping the tea, and welcomed the sweet warmth settling in his stomach.

He watched as Remus sat back down, picking his book back up, but Harry found he couldn’t go back to reading.

“How long have you and Padfoot been together for?” He wasn't sure why he asked that question; Harry just wanted to start a conversation.

Remus closed his book, a thoughtful look and a gentle smile on his face.

“Merlin, we got together in third year, broke up after about a year and then got back together in sixth, and that was it.”

Harry chuckled, “So, a long time then.”

“A long time indeed.”

“When did you two get married?”

“Oh, we’re not married.”

Harry was certainly confused, “But I’ve heard you call each other husbands?”

“It’s a bit…complicated,” Remus thought for a moment, picking up his mug. “With Sirius being Lord Black, if we were to be married, then it wouldn’t be a usual marriage. The House of Black is old and…traditional.”

“So they expected Sirius to marry a witch.”

“His parents expressed their disapproval from the beginning, but you know what Sirius is like, he didn’t care. Even then, they were more concerned that I was a werewolf. It’s not that though, when you’re married to a family like the Blacks, the spouse has expectations to uphold.”

“Like the gala mum and dad went to?”

“Kind of, it's more of a social expectation of how you present yourself and all of that. No one attempts to criticise your mum now, because the last time it happened, it did not end well for that person.”

Harry snorted. He could clearly picture his mum reacting to something like that happening.

“I simply didn’t want to deal with it on top of what I have to deal with as a werewolf. We find that calling each other husbands is no different from a partner or boyfriend, considering how long we’ve been together.”

“Do you wish you could get married officially?”

“No, not really,” Remus shrugged, finishing the last of his tea, “Planning a wedding and everything isn’t something that matters to Sirius and I; the fact we love each other is all that matters. We don’t need the Ministry or others in our business more than they already are.”

“That makes sense.” Harry decided that he wanted to learn more about his Godfather, feeling a little bad that the man wasn’t there to tell Harry himself.

“Is Sirius the only one out of his family alive? I know about Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa, but what about his parents?”

“They died before you were born, the title of Lord or Lady Black laid in limbo for a while, with his cousins all married off, they couldn’t claim the title and Sirius or Regulus didn't want to claim it-”

“Regulus?”

Remus’ eyes widened a fraction, “You don’t know who Regulus is? Sirius’s brother?”

“Sirius had a brother?!” Something stirred with Harry. It was only logical that his Sirius had a brother, another reminder that he didn’t really know his Godfather at all.

“Has. Regulus is very much alive; no idea where he is, though.”

“D-Do they talk?”

“Their relationship is…complex.” Remus paused for a moment, and Harry knew that he wasn’t sure what to say. 

“You don’t have to go on. Sirius isn’t here after all, it should be his place to say.” 

“I’ll just say that they both care for each other deeply, but their past limits any relationship.”

Harry nodded, understanding what Remus meant. He may not have known much about Sirius, but Harry was all too aware of his childhood. 

“I see, my Sirius never spoke of him.”

Remus stood up, taking Harry’s mug from him, “Sirius never speaks much of him either, but I’m sure your Sirius cared for Regulus just as much.”

Remus left Harry alone, the fireplace crackling as he stared at the flames. He had a feeling that things would take a turn soon, either bad or good. Harry did not know which, but he desperately hoped for the latter.

Chapter Text

 The early morning sun shone through the windows of the library. For the fifth time that week, Harry wandered mindlessly through the room; having made his way through the entire alphabet, Harry really had no other choice but to start back at A. 

As he trailed his fingers along the spines of the books, Harry stopped at one that had peaked his interest a while ago. 

Animagus: A process of unlocking your inner creature. 

Now that was something Harry could do in his spare time. He had asked Sirius once and his godfather had promised to teach him as he was rather adamant that Harry not try himself, citing too many consequences if something were to go wrong. 

He pulled the book from the shelf, excitedly flicking through the first couple of pages as he wondered out of the library in search of his parents. 

“Dad?” Harry called as he walked into the kitchen, finding them both at the table. 

“Oh, hello. We were wondering where you were.” James pulled a chair out for Harry, the boy sitting down with a thank you. “Where have you been hiding?” 

“I’ve been in the library.” He shrugged, placing the book on the table. “Are you an Animagus, specifically a stag ?”

 “Getting straight to the point I see.” James raised a brow, looking from the book to Harry. “I am, why?” 

“Could you teach me?” 

“Where has this come from?” Lily asked, taking the book off Harry and flicking through the pages. 

“The version of you was, and so was Sirius.” Harry chose not to mention Peter, not wanting to bring the mood down. “It’s always interested me, and it’s something that'll keep me occupied.” 

“Well, I don't see why not. We can all help you.” Harry immediately thought of Sirius, but he was surprised to see his dad nod to Lily. 

“You’re an Animagi?!” 

“I’ve been reading up on it in my spare time.” Lily shrugged, “I can try help, but your dad and Sirius are the best to go to.” 

“That’s so cool.” Harry smiled brightly at his mother, another thing to add to the list of who his parents really are, not the people he was told about. 

“It’s nothing too exciting,” Lily waved him off, laughing. “We can all have a look later, I’m about to make lunch.” 

Before Lily even had a chance to get up, the floo roared to life.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Lily look at the two, both shaking their heads.

The trio stood up, wands in their grip. There was a possibility that it was someone from their family, but usually they make themselves present as soon as they arrive. 

“Stay here, Harry.” There was no room for questioning in her tone, so Harry had no choice but to stay and watch as his parents left the kitchen. 

“Bill?” Harry heard after a brief moment. “Is everything okay?”

Harry didn’t hear a reply, only footsteps getting louder until Bill entered the Kitchen, his parents close behind.

“One of Dumbledore’s lackeys.” Bill bit out, shaking his hands in frustration. “I-I thought I’d hidden or burnt all the letters but I missed one-”

The room became tense, Bill didn’t need to finish his sentence to know what he was saying.

“Bill-” 

“I don’t know what he read, or how much but he knows.” He ran a hand through his hair, grabbing it slightly. “I don’t even know why he was in my office.” 

“He broke into your house?!” Lily looked appalled, and rightly so if Dumbledore was willing to have someone stoop that low. 

“No, no he didn’t. I’m sorry, I’m all over the place.” Bill took a breath, collecting himself and taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I was at work and Fleur had the day off. One of Dumbledore’s lackeys, I don’t even know his name, came to the door asking for me, wanting to talk about a curse or something, and Fleur let him in. She had to go to the bathroom or something, and by the time I got home, I found him looking over the letters.”

“Oh Merlin. Do you think he was there to look for something?” 

“I don’t know, he genuinely asked about a curse on behalf of Dumbledore, but of course there could have been other intentions.”

Harry hadn’t thought much of Dumbledore since he arrived in this world. It seemed, however, that his personality is not far from the Dumbledore in his world– a meddling old man who always wants to be involved. 

“He’s been getting a little more desperate lately. I’m not sure why, but he is.”

“He was… overly pushy at the gala.” Lily ran a hand through her hair, frustration in her voice. “I didn’t think much about it because everyone is at those events, but something must be changing.” 

If something was already in the works in this world, throwing Harry’s new existence in his world felt like things are going to get a little more complex. 

“What’s going to happen now then?” Harry asked, his eyes flickering between the three adults. 

“We wait and think of some response if Dumbledore acts.” His dad shrugged, but Harry could see the tension in his shoulders, “We can’t make any rash decisions because Dumbledore hasn’t done anything.”

Bill cut in, moving over to Harry. “I do want to redo your runes, it may be pointless but we can’t risk it if Dumbledore tries something.” 

He may be wrong, but Harry had a sneaky suspicion that Bill wanted to see if the runes would still act the same way as last time. 

“That’s fine.”

“Great, would you like to do it in the living room again?” Bill walked towards the door but stopped when Harry shook his head and sat back down at the table. 

“No, we can do it here.”  Incase Harry was right and that Bill was itching to test the rune on the other side of his face, something that Harry did not want to experience again, he decided to do it in the presence of his parents. To them, the fact that Harry wanted to do the rune in the kitchen meant nothing but Bill knew that it was Harry’s way of telling him not to experiment. 

“No problem, just take a seat and we can do this.” 

Just like last time, Bill moved with precision. He guided his wand across Harry’s temple, and thankfully for a long moment, Harry felt nothing. 

That was until he felt a wave of too familiar anger, like an arrow to his chest, Harry struggled to ignore it. He had no reason to be angry, no reason to be annoyed at the way Bill held his wand or the nervous twitching of his dads fingers. Though Harry kept his cool, that feeling vanished when Bill was finished. 

“You alright, Harry?” 

The cup shattered and everyone in the room jumped. 

“Shit! I’m sorry.” Harry gasped, reaching over to pick up the glass shards, but as soon as he picked a piece up, each piece vanished. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Lily moved Harry out the way, directing his gaze to hers. “Things happen, don’t feel bad.” 

“Magic’s unpredictable, Harry.” James added on, smiling at his son. “I’m sure Bill’s dealt with things like that before.” 

Harry glanced at Bill, and by his eyes he could tell that he hadn’t dealt with something like that before. Thankfully, Bill decided to take the path of not worrying his parents. 

“Of course, magic reacts all the time to things, it’s nothing to stress about.”

Harry nodded, not saying a word and awkwardly toeing the ground with his foot.

“None of that pouting, Harry James.” Lily flicked his nose, and Harry snorted in return. “Now that’s over, how about we talk about you becoming an animagi?” 

“But what about Dumbledore?” 

“We’ll discuss it later, okay. So what do you say?” 

“I think I’ll go for a nap,” Harry mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as his head throb in slight pain, “Thank you for the help, Bill.” 

“You’re welcome, Harry.” Bill’s smile was small, filled with curiosity or concern. “If you have any trouble you know to contact me.” 

“We’ll let you know when dinner is ready, Sweetie.” Lily placed her hand on Harry’s arm, squeezing softly.

Harry returned their smiles with his own, though a forced one, and headed back to his room.

Apart from the clanging of pots and pans, the house was in a lull silence. As Harry lay in his bed, his fingers tracing patterns on his duvet, he could think on the situation with Dumbledore. It was strange to think that having his old headmaster potentially be aware of his existence concerned Harry; it was only fair that something were to go wrong after his relatively lucky streak. 

Hearing some movement down stairs, Harry waved his hand and cast a tempus charm. He’d been asleep for a couple of hours, and he no longer had a pounding where Bill recast the rune. Thankfully, he hadn’t had another vision or whatever it was, but the anger he felt was concerning.

But instead of thinking of ways to speak of his latest happenings, Harry could smell his dinner and his stomach rumbled loudly.

He felt a small chill when his bare feet touched the wooden floor, and the warm duvet was gone from his body.  He made his way over to his chest of drawers, digging through his drawers for a pair of socks. Although, mid-search Harry felt a wave of magic, a warm feeling he knew all too well. Before him was a patronus. A blue doe stood tall and grand, the flickers of the candles behind it skewed by the translucent blue of its body. 

“Stay in your room and do not come downstairs.” His mothers voice was clear, “Don’t make a sound, Harry.” 

Harry was in shock, and in that shocked silence, he noted that the noise of pans and plates had vanished and the smell of his dinner had disappeared. He shuffled to the door, pressing his ear up against the wood, hearing nothing Harry wished he had one of Fred and George’s extendable ears. 

Harry waited for a few minutes, fear and question eating away at him. He tapped his foot on the floor, the thumps muffled by his socks. When that didn’t help, he stood up and paced around his room, picking up a book on spells; he tried to read for a few minutes but couldn’t get past the first chapter, his head filled with too many things. Were his parents okay? What or who was downstairs?

Quietly, Harry shut the book and placed it on his bed, walking over to the door and slowly opening it, cringing when the hinges squeaked. With slow and careful steps, Harry moved down the hallway to the top of the stairs, crouching down behind a wall.

He could only hear muffled conversations, he could make out his mum and dad but there was another voice that sounded so familiar but Harry could not place it. He moved closer and closer to the edge of his hiding spot, desperate to hear what was going on. 

He had no luck for a while, and he was considering moving further down the stairs. As Harry’s fingers twitched in anticipation, the door opened and Harry quickly shuffled back; not only did he not want to be seen by this unknown person but also his parents. 

“Lily, I must-” 

Dumbledore. No wonder the voice had been familiar to Harry, he was curious to see what he looked like in this world.

“No, Albus.”  His mum’s voice was angry, a tone that Harry had hardly ever heard from her, “We told you no at the gala and you have the nerve to turn up to our home and ask again.” 

“You have to understand what I wish to achieve, for you to not see that is disappointing.” 

It was quiet for a moment, and Harry could only guess the look on his parents faces. 

“How dare you.” His mother bit out, and Harry swore he could hear the rattling of a vase.

“I apologise-” 

“It’s best you leave, Albus.” James was calm, but there was an edge to his voice also. “Give up and leave us alone.”

“I understand.” Harry could make out from the sounds that Dumbledore had turned around, paused then turned to face his parents again. “Although, I must ask something in regard to Bill Weasley being here.”

There was another pause. 

“You have no business as to why Bill was here, our relationship with people you associate withis none of your concern.” 

“They are you see,” Harry recognised the grandfatherly tone, and there was no doubt that there was that twinkle in his eye. “If he’s letting out information important to our-”

“Merlin, Albus, did you ever stop to think that not everything is about your dick measuring contest with Riddle?” 

While a little too loud for his liking, Harry snorted at his mothers words. Thankfully, no one had heard him as the conversation continued. 

“As much as you two claim otherwise, you are involved and must choose a side.” 

“I refuse to side with those who were involved in my child’s death.” 

“James-” 

“Goodbye, Albus.” 

Harry could make out the sigh from Dumbledore. Curiosity got the better of him, because Harry peeked his head around the corner and promptly met the grey eyes of the man he was meant to not be seen by. 

“Shit.” It may have only been less that a second before Harry turned away, and he prayed that the old man's eyesight was so bad that he didn't see Harry. 

“Well, I hope you… two have a pleasant rest of your evening, I apologise for the interruption.” 

Harry breathed in sharply, the pause Dumbledore gave was in no way accidental, and they all knew it. Harry waited with a baited breath, fully expecting Dumbledore to go up to where Harry was hiding and demand his presence. Thankfully, it was his dad who spoke. 

“You as well, Albus.” Harry could just make out his dad pointing to the front door. “Please don’t come back.

Harry moved further away from the edge of the wall, his back resting on it instead. He listened to no more conversation, only the sounds of the front door closing and a tense silence. 

“What are we going to do, James?” His mothers voice was quiet, cracking from worry. 

“I-I think I know what we have to do.” 

Harry had no clue what they were talking about, it was most definitely about him. 

“Are you sure? Is that our only option?” 

“I-I think so.” 

“I can’t believe we’re going to have to turn our son into a beetle.” 

Harry was in utter shock, not knowing what to say while he could hear the quiet sobs of his mum. 

Suddenly, those sobs sounded a lot like giggles and everything made sense to Harry.

“How did you know I was there?” Harry peaked his head around the corner to see both his mum and dad with large grins on their faces.

“I knew the moment I told you to stay quiet and in your room that you would be loitering around.” Lily snorted.

“I’m sorry.” Guilt pulled at Harry, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks and neck. 

“It’s fine.” James waved away his apologies, motioning Harry to come down the stairs. “Dumbledore was here only to try intimidate, a lot sooner than what we expected but .” 

“But what if-” 

“I understand that you’re worried, but trust us Harry, everything is fine. We just need to… evaluate how we go about our lives, but for now we’re going to have dinner.”

James pulled Harry into a side hug, but the boy was still apprehensive of everything. 

“I don’t get how you can just-”

“Harry, sweetheart.” His mothers voice was firm, no room for argument. “We’re going to sit down in the kitchen, eat our dinner and play some board games, then go to bed. Once we’ve woken up and had breakfast we will then talk about everything, its been a long day, and we don’t need anymore worry.” 

Harry huffed, “Fine, but I want to be involved.”

“Of course, now come on and let’s eat.” 

Chapter Text

It was strange to step through the door of Grimmauld Place. No longer did he step into a home that was filled with despair and painful memories, or welcomed with the screams of Walburga Black. No, instead he entered the hallways covered in cream wallpaper, intricate designs travelling across the material. There were photos lining the walls, most of them Sirius and Remus, a few of his family - Harry even spotted some of their Harry, his smile bright in every photo. 

“It’s weird being here,” Harry stared at a photo on the wall, it was of Sirius and Remus at the beach. “Grimmauld place isn’t as… welcoming back home.” 

“It certainly wasn’t when we moved in.” Sirius led them to the library, his dad following quietly behind. “After a lot of work it was habitable.” 

Sirius opened the door to the library, clearly under an expansion charm as there were several shelves of books, most with a dusty sheen. 

“Is there not a Black manor, like the Potter one?” 

“There is, but I’d prefer not to live there. My childhood home wasn’t the most pleasant.” 

“You lived there? You grew up here in my world.” 

“Well, I filtered in between the two, but we mostly stayed at the manor.” 

Harry nodded quietly, following Sirius to a table surrounded by several arm chairs, the trio making themselves comfortable as three glasses of water appeared at the snap of his godfather's fingers. 

“I’m afraid everything’s going to be a little boring at the beginning.” Sirius waved his wand and several books landed on the table, “This can all be a bit dangerous, so we’ll need to go through all of that before anything else.” 

“That’s fine, I’m not exactly unfamiliar with something being dangerous.” Harry shrugged, noting the exchange glance between his father and godfather. 

“Alright then, well it would be best if you start with these books.” Sirius handed one of the books to Harry, which looked to be about three hundred pages long.

“I have to read all of this?” The idea of becoming an animagus did not seem all that appealing to him now. 

“Luckily you don’t, a lot of this is just the history of it. If you just read chapter twenty to twenty-two then we can move on.” Relieved, Harry flicked to the two chapters: the dangers of becoming an animagi. 

“It feels like you’re trying to turn me off from becoming one.” Harry commented, raising a brow at the two men before him.

“We just don’t want you to make the same mistakes we did,” his dad reassured, an unpleasant look crossing over his face. “It was not pleasant having antlers poking out of your head for two months, especially when we had to use a glamour charm. This one time Pet- Sirius had a dog tail and couldn’t sit down properly for three weeks.” 

Harry caught onto the slip of the tongue, in all honesty, Harry had completely forgotten about the rat; of course Harry was curious to know what happened with him, but not enough for Harry to obsess over it considering Sirius wasn’t a fugitive.

“Alright, want me to make any notes to go with it, Professor?” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” James snorted, “the quicker you read the quicker we can actually have fun.” 

Harry made himself more comfortable in the chair, staring at the pages covered in endless words with dread. Before committing to the pages, Harry stared at the two men who were now huddled around a book together. It seemed that the men in question could sense Harry’s eyes on them. 

“No more questions until you’ve finished reading.” 

With a huff, Harry looked down and began to read. Ultimately, it didn’t take him long to get through the pages, actually finding it enjoyable to read the knowledge. He did, however, realise that the consequences for learning recklessly was certainly something that he would not be taking lightly. He was certainly surprised that his dad didn’t suffer any life long effects. 

After just under an hour, Harry slammed the book closed and the other jumped in surprise. “Finished.” 

“That was quick.” James closed his own book, Harry catching a glimpse of the title. 

“You’re reading about magical artefacts?” 

Sirius and his dad exchanged looks, a silent but quick conversation between the pair. 

“We’re only having a little look at something, but don’t worry about it.” 

“You’re researching the mirror.” Harry was not silly, easily piecing two and two together, not to mention his statement was backed up by the twos reaction. 

“Yes, we, uh, wanted to look into the mirror you’ve spoken about.” His dad admitted, knowing there was no redirecting Harry. 

“Why? I thought you didn’t want me to find a way back to my world.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“I may be oblivious to most things, but not everything.” Harry snorted, reaching over and quickly pulling the book towards himself. “Any time I’ve mentioned going back you get this look on your face, like someone just punched you.” 

“I thought I was a bit more subtle.” His dad rubbed the back of his neck as he flushed in embarrassment. 

Harry shrugged, reassuring James that he didn’t mind. “I wanted to look into it myself at some point. Did you find anything?” 

Harry didn’t want to go back, he knew that now, but it would be nice to understand what led to him ending up here. 

“Don’t you want to do this?” Sirius pointed to the books next to Harry.

“I mean, if everything so far is just reading, I can do that later. I’d like to know a bit more about what you’ve found.” 

“If you’re sure.” James shrugged, but there was a look of reluctance in his brown eyes. “We haven’t found much, most books on artefacts are based on assumption. What did you experience with the mirror?” 

Harry straightened up, grabbing his glass of water and taking a quick sip. “Once I came across it, it wouldn’t leave me alone. It was always in my thoughts, and I started to… see things. A constant attack until I finally went back to it. It spoke to me, and then I was pulled through.” 

Harry didn’t want to go into more detail, content to give the important information. 

“I see, well that doesn’t seem to match with what we’ve read so far.” Sirius took the book from Harry, flipping through the pages. “We might have some more luck with another book I own.” 

“You think the mirror is dark?” 

“Well, if it can transport someone to a completely different reality, then we probably are dealing with a dark artefact.” 

“I’d come across it before though, in my first year, and nothing happened then.” 

“Maybe someone tampered with it?” James suggested, taking a turn looking through the book himself. “Are there any more books here?” 

“I’m afraid not, we removed most of the dark magic books, either to the Black Library or Borgin and Burkes.” 

“Why there?” Harry asked. 

“The owners helped me out a while back, and they wanted to study the books and keep them there.” Sirius stood up, wandering around the room. “I can access them any time, so we can head over and take a look at what I left.” 

“Well, I want to come whenever you go.” Harry decided for them, leaving no room for argument. 

“You would actually be quite a big help, I’m thinking we go tomorrow morning.” 

“That works for us, your mothers out with Mary tomorrow, but I’ll let her know what’s going on.” 

It was raining the following morning, the clouds grey as Sirius, James and a disguised Harry walked down Knockturn Alley. There weren’t a few people around, and those that were didn’t pay attention to the three walking down the path. 

Harry was tempted to ask them to visit the building where he ended up when all of this started, but discarded those thoughts, he wouldn’t even be surprised if it didn’t exist anymore. Harry didn’t dwell on it further, as they made it to the store. He had only ever been once, and it seemed that there was nothing noticeably different. It was still a dreary place, a dark presence that crept up Harry’s spine as they walked through the door, Sirius instructing them to wait while he spoke to the pair behind the counter. 

“This place always gives me the creeps,” his dad shuddered, wiggling his shoulders as he stared at the shelves. “Interesting stuff, but merlin it’s not pleasant.” 

Harry nodded in agreement, staring out of the tinted windows. Using his sleeve, Harry rubbed some dirt off the glass and it was then that he noticed something fly past the window several times before coming to a stop. It was a bird, perching on the windowsill as its brown feathers and marking were clear Harry. From what he could remember, it seemed he was looking at a sparrow, but the closer he got, something didn’t seem quite right with the animal. 

“Harry?” James placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, making the boy jump and look at him. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Has Sirius got the books?” Harry turned back to the window, noting that the bird was no longer there. 

“He does, they’re letting us into the back.” 

Harry followed his dad, noticing all the artifacts on the shelves: shrivelled hands in jars, delicate jewellery encased in glass boxes and stacks upon stacks of books. Though compared to the last time he’d been to this place in his own reality, there were considerably less cobwebs. They moved past the two gentlemen at the counter, both thin with dark hair and most likely related in some way, and into a small room where Sirius was placing books on a small table. 

“Right, I’ve got options and we can narrow down to see what we’re looking at.”  Sirius gestured for the pair to sit down, “If you could give us a run down of the mirror again Harry, we can start looking.” 

And so Harry did, and unlike his vagueness yesterday, he went into a little more detail. He told them of the way it spoke to him, the hallucinations of Sirius following him and the obsession that grew and grew. 

“So, you came across it in your first year?” Sirius closed a book, waving his wand and it vanished off the table. “Sorry I’m asking you the same questions as yesterday, we just need to be sure.” 

“It’s fine, but yeah I came across it in first year, nothing like that happened. Dumbledore found me looking at it, and the next time I went it was gone.” 

“And you have no knowledge where it went for all those years.” 

“Nope. I never even heard a whisper about it until I found it again.” 

They continued on for another forty-five minutes: Sirius and James asking questions, Harry answering and discarding theories left and right. Through his own research, Harry had flicked onto the page that immediately caught his attention. 

“Maybe we’re not dealing with something that’s a separate entity.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Harry spun the book around, pointing to the title: The veil of Death.

“Where are you going with this?” His dad asked, his eyes scanning the pages. 

“It says here that the Veil of Death is a bridge between life and death, in my world it was this archway in the Department of Mysteries and this book gives no indication as to what it is, there’s not even a picture, it only says its in your Department of Mysteries, do you have any idea what it looks like?” 

“I have no idea what it looks like.” His dad shrugged, looking at Sirius who shook his head in agreement. “So, carry on with your theory.”

“Maybe the Veil of Death is a more… abstract idea. What if the archway in my world is simply a conduit for whatever the veil actually is. I know I’m not making total sense, but what if the Veil of Death got its name because when people go through they don’t come back, and they’re simply believed to be dead. I could hear voices when I was at the arch way, what if it wasn’t the dead but rather people from another world. There could be several of these conduits in mine and your world, whatever power the veil hold is not death but rather a door to another world, so even if I go through another gateway there’s no guarantee I’ll go home.”

“You’re bloody brilliant, you know that right.” Harry blushed at his dad’s words, his cheeks flushing even more at the adoring look in his fathers gaze. 

“It might not be true.” Harry shrugged, he looked behind the two, looking out the window where he noticed another bird on  a pile of crates outside.  “It’s just a theory.” 

“Don’t doubt yourself, Harry.” James moved in the way of the window, and Harry saw the bird fly away. “It’s a great theory, if you would like we can research it more, I’m not sure how much we’d find because we’re stepping into Unspeakable business, the only way we can access that information would be through Riddle.” 

“I think we can say case closed for now, I don’t think we’re really going to get anywhere at the moment, but its nice to have a potential understanding on what happened to me.” 

“Alright, if you’re sure, but if you ever want to look into it further, just let me know and we can come back.” Harry nodded at Sirius’s words, following behind him and his dad. 

With that they left the shop, Sirius exchanging quick words with the men before following James and Harry out of Knockturn Alley. Unsure whether he was being overly aware of his surroundings, Harry felt like he was being watched and his pace was speeding up. 

“Harry?” His dad and Sirius quickened their own paces, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing, I just need to go to the toilet.”

 Harry didn’t slow down, his eyes darting all around the place to find who was watching and following. He could see no one, not even when he burst through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron and straight to the bathroom. He waited for a few moments, scaring himself briefly when he looked in the mirror, forgetting that he had his disguise on, splashing his face with water. 

He eventually left the bathroom, finding his dad and Sirius sat at a table. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius said as soon as he noticed Harry. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just needed the loo.”
Both adults looked at Harry, deciding whether to believe him, and thankfully they did. 

“Alright, well, shall we head back?” 

“Could we stop off at the pet shop, I need a few things for .” Harry didn’t necessarily need things for her at that moment, but Harry didn’t want to seem too suspicious to his already rather unconvinced father and godfather.

“Alright, let’s go then.” 

They all stood, Harry considerably more tense but if his dad and Sirius noticed, neither said anything. He opened the door and was welcomed with the now shining sun and strong wind. He noticed a bird again, the same size and marking as each time before, and Harry felt that feeling of being watched growing. 

Chapter Text

Harry knew that he was being followed now. A few days had passed since his time at Borgin and Burkes, and Harry had been feeling as though someone or something had been watching him. He had cast several revelio charms throughout the house, when his parents weren’t around, but had always ended up empty handed. He didn’t want to admit that he was being followed by a bird, it was a strange notion. Sure Hedwig had followed him around from time to time but this was different. He couldn’t ignore that it was the same bird from Knockturn Alley, he’d go upstairs and the little sparrow would be seen zooming past several windows, he’d then run back down stairs and after a while the creature would find him again. Honestly, Harry was surprised his parents hadn’t caught onto something from Harry’s peculiar behaviour. 

His parents had also spoken of taking Harry out in the next few days, so he knew that he would have to tell them of the new predicament added onto his growing list of worries. 

“There you are, sweetheart.” His mum greeted Harry as he walked into the conservatory. It was a nice day, so both his mum and dad were there, music playing from the record player as they read some muggle books. “We were wondering where you were, its too nice for you to be stuck indoors.”

Harry walked further into the room, almost running into one of their house elves, Miffy, who was watering the plants in the room with much excitement, a pot filled with soil floating next to her. 

“Careful of the hydrangeas, master Harry.” Her squeaky voice rattled with worry. “We don’t want them damaged before they bloom.”

“Sorry, Miffy.” Harry smiled at her, she was a sweet creature and he much preferred her to Kreacher. Harry hadn’t realised the lack of house elves until Miffy and a few other appeared here and there, and when Harry asked of their sudden appearance, his father had told him they mostly stay with his grandparents but like to help out from time to time. 

“You didn’t fancy helping?” Harry asked his dad who had closed his book and focused on Harry. 

“I may like to garden, but you should never get in the way of, Miffy.” 

“That means you don’t something and can’t help anymore.”

His dad gave him a blank look. “I may have gotten in the way a few too many times.”    

Harry snorted, sitting down on an arm chair and accepting the glass of lemon water Miffy had offered him before going back to her plants. 

“What have you been up to? We thought you’d be out playing Quidditch or at the lake on a day like this.”

Hiding from a bird that’s been following me all day. Harry had wanted to say but instead he claimed he was simply having a long day in bed. 

“I just thought I’d have a lazy day.” Harry shrugged, though he wasn’t sure he was that convincing.

“I see, and have you enjoyed your lazy day so far?” His mother’s words answered Harry’s questions, along with the glint of suspicion in her eyes.

“No complaints so far,” Harry took a deep breath and a sip of water, “though I do have something I wanted to tell you both.” 

“I thought you might have, considering how you shuffled in here.” His dad spoke, scanning Harry’s face for any signs of distress. 

“I do not shuffle.” Harry huffed, his expression then growing serious. “Anyways, all I ask is that you don’t react too negatively to what I’m about to say.”

His parents exchanged a look but stayed silent. 

“I’m going to take that silence as an okay.” Harry took a deep breath, preparing himself. “I’m eighty percent sure someones been following me around, to the best of their ability that is.”

The silence that followed seemed to drag on for hours. 

“What do you mean… followed and to the best of their ability?” 

Harry felt like he was back in the bank, being interrogated with no mercy.

“Well, uh, when we went to Borgin and Burkes, I saw a bird at the shop, I didn’t think much of it, but then I saw it when we were walking to the Leaky Cauldron, and I may have seen it several times, conveniently  at the windows of every room I’m in.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” His mothers voice rose, no doubt cracking under Harry’s not so pleasant information. 

“I didn’t want you to worry!” Harry held his hands up, stepping back slightly. “Nothing bad has actually happened to me and there’s enough going on right now.” 

“You- I can’t believe this.” His dad rubbed his hands across his face, letting out a heavy sigh before standing up. “Do you not trust us? Is that why you didn’t say anything for several days.”

“James, that’s not fair.” Lily placed her hand on James as he walked past. “Sit back down and let Harry talk.” 

While his mum spoke to his dad, Harry felt strange. He hadn’t actually been scolded by his parents before, and while it certainly a pleasant thing to hear, a part of Harry was glad. It’s not that he wanted to argue with them, but it felt like a step in their relationship. 

“I trust you, I really do, but for most of my life I’ve dealt with things on my own, so its a hard habit to break.” Of course there were other things Harry was hiding, like the vision when Bill was placing the rune, but now was not the time to overload his parents. “I also didn’t say anything because I thought I was being silly at first, I mean people don’t typically think a bird is following them for days; plus if it were an animagus, wouldn’t the wards have keep them away?”

“You’re right, I do apologise Harry.” His dad flushed, no doubt in embarrassment. 

“I thought we put a stop to apologies.” Harry repeated his dads previous words with a smile, the man in question sending his own smile to his son.

“Do we know of any spells that could be used to spy? Maybe it was an illusion?

“I can’t think of a single one.” James said, Harry agreeing with him. “Have you seen this bird today?”

“I haven’t, which is strange considering its been persistent these last few days.”

“Right, well, we need to get to the bottom of this.” His dad stood again, placing his book back on the shelf. “Miffy, please could you let the restaurant know that Lily and I will not be able to attend tonights reservation.”

Shit Harry thought, feeling utterly terrible. He had forgotten that his mum and dad were going out for a date night, it was ironic really, considering that Harry was the one to convince them to go. 

“No way. Miffy, don’t tell anyone anything.” The poor elf halted, looking between father and son, unsure who to listen to.

“Harry, honey, it’s fine, we can always go another time.” Lily tried to reassure him but Harry shook his head. 

“No. You two are going to go out and have a nice evening.”

“If you think someone has been watching you-”

“I’m protected by the wards, everyone is a floo away if something happens, which I doubt anything will, and I can send a patronus.” Harry argued, pleading in his voice. “Plus, I am capable of looking after myself.” 

His parents exchanged looks, Harry not liking the unconvincing glimmers. 

“Harry-”

“Look, whoever is doing this wouldn’t be so stupid and break into the manor. I’ll be safe here and like I said, I won’t really be alone.”

His parents had finally left after much convincing, Harry had to practically push them out of the house and lock the door. 

If he were honest with himself, Harry was nervous being on his own, especially since the bird has been a no show all day. His parents had been gone for about an hour, the sun setting and the chill air filling the conservatory sent Harry further into the house. 

He was paranoid, there was no doubt about it. Every sound in the house prompted some reaction out of him, and harry was tempted on several occasions to call it quits and floo to someones house. Call it Gryffindor pride, but Harry resisted every time, distracting himself with some menial activity. 

To distract himself for the fifth time that evening, Harry had ended up somewhere he hadn’t brought himself go into before: his younger selfs room. He didn’t need to inspect the snitch doorknob, he’d done so many times before. He twisted the doorknob, the mechanisms stiff but not rusted. Just like the door, the walls were a pale blue with small snitches flying across the wallpaper. In the corner of the room was a wooden bed, its frame tall enough for a child to climb onto. There were plush toys on the bedding, a few magical creatures and some not. Looking closer, Harry noted the bed was made quite haphazardly, like someone had made the bed only this morning, but Harry knew it hadn’t been touched in years. There were more things in the small space that pulled at Harry’s heart; the stack of books on the chest of draws, a pot of blunt colouring pencils next to a stack of plain paper on a table where underneath a small sock was hidden in the far corner. 

It was all overwhelming to Harry for a number of reasons. To be in a room of a child, a version of him no less, where emotions of people he cares about will always be so raw felt like he was intruding somewhere that should have been off limits. It also made him wonder if he had grown up the same way as this Harry, would he have decorated his room the same. Would he have chosen the blue walls, would he have chosen the same toys to make a home on his bed, Harry was not sure. He had spent a lot of his childhood in his cupboard under the stairs, imagining how he would decorate if he had been given Dudley’s second room. 

Harry didn’t touch anything, but he took it all in. As Harry inspected the number of photos on a shelf, he heard a loud thump from downstairs. He paused, his body turning to face the bedroom door as he waited for another sound- perhaps Miffy had dropped something on accident, so Harry continued to observe the moving picture of his parents and young Harry on a beach. 

However, the noise happened again, this time followed by an almost inaudible, smaller thump, and for a moment Harry thought it sound like pairs of feet hitting the ground - it was then, that Harry remembered Miffy had left for his grandparents house once she had made dinner for Harry a couple hours ago. 

For the first time in a while, Harry was unsure what to do. He didn’t know for certain if someone was downstairs, for all he knew it could be his parents playing a prank on him, but considering the topic of their conversation earlier, Harry wasn’t so sure that was the case. Perhaps it was his imagination, the wind taking a violent turn and slamming open the windows throughout the house, so it may not have been shoes hitting the ground but rather multiple windows opening and closing; but then again the windows were magically sealed shut unless opened by a latch on the inside. 

Each reason for such a noise was clearly pointing no where for Harry, except for the fact someone or something was in the house. 

Harry had no choice but to shuffle out of the bedroom, staying close to the wall that would hide him once he reached the stairs. Unlike the time when Dumbledore paid a visit, Harry made sure that he was hidden; crouching down with his back against the wall, Harry tried to hear what was going on downstairs, going as far as to slow down his breathing. 

It was silent for a while, and Harry was beginning to feel rather silly; perhaps his mind was playing tricks, filling the silence of the house and fuelling his subconscious paranoia. 

“Merlin, will you be quiet! We’re going to get caught if you aren’t careful.”

Harry froze, he did not recognise the voice at all; it belonged to a man, the deep whispering echoing throughout the house. 

“How are we going to get caught if there’s no one in the house?” Another voice replied, another male but from the higher pitch, he must be younger. “James and Lily are doing whatever, and you said you saw the boy leave through the floo.”

Harry was at a loss, if what he was hearing was true, then he was currently close to his stalker of the last few days, and that somehow the wards of the manor were not as impenetrable as his parents thought. 

Harry had clearly upset fate if this was happening to him, and what was even worse when Harry went to grab his wand, it was not in his pocket but rather back in the conservatory, most likely squashed between the cushion and chair. 

Maybe Moody had been right with the importance of constant vigilance. 

For the first time in a while, Harry was scared. He didn’t know who was downstairs, he 

“Who is the boy, anyway?” It was the younger man who asked, his voice muffling that he was picking up objects, no doubt inspecting them. “Dumbledore’s said he’s important, but hasn’t told us why.” 

“I’m just as confused as you are, but when has Dumbledore ever told us things. It’s always, Daniel I need you to do this, Daniel watch some random teenage boy for two days then break into the Potter house.”

That confused Harry, because surely they would be able to piece together that the boy they were following was related to the Potters in some way, not only that but they would follow someone  who changed appearances and went by a different name. He could dwell on it later, because Harry knew he had to find a way out of the house; it was a bad idea to even consider, but he wanted to find out more about what they were actually doing there. Of course, Harry couldn’t try hide behind furniture or use his wand to cast a charm, but he did have his invisibility cloak. 

He poked his head around the wall, trying to gage where the intruders where, thankfully their version of a whisper were practically shouts. 

“Lets just check out the kitchen.” 

“Why on earth would we go there?” 

“I could do with a little snack, plus we might find something we can report back with.” 

Harry could make out the sound of someone being smacked, followed by a yelp. 

“No one is meant to know we’re here, you fool.”

“Oh please, I doubt that Lord and Lady Potter even come into the kitchen, I’m sure they have plenty of house elves to restock their fridge, so I doubt they’d even notice something missing.”

“They don’t have any house elves, we wouldn’t have made in five steps into the house if they did.” 

Knowing the men were distracted, Harry made a run for his room; he kept his steps lights but did not falter at the creaking of floor boards. Thankfully, his door was already open, but for extra measure Harry opened his drawer, snatched up his cloak and hid under the bed. He curled in on himself, covering his whole body with the cloak and waited. He didn’t know how long he was there, for he didn’t know if the men even heard any commotion coming from upstairs. 

He felt like enough time had passed, only a few minutes, Harry pulled himself out from under his bed and still wrapped in his cloak, he quietly shut his door, went and shut younger Harry’s door and headed downstairs. 

Harry stayed out of the kitchen, he hovered just outside the door and was still able to hear the conversation they were having. 

“What are we looking for anyways.” One of them asked, his voice muffled by whatever he had taken and eaten from the cupboards. 

“Just any sign that someone, the boy, has been living with them for a while, and anything that establishes that there’s a relationship bigger than a guest visiting.”
Harry knew he couldn’t carry on listening to them, instead he needed to grab his wand and hide anything that they may find useful in their report back to Dumbledore. As he walked to the conservatory, Harry grabbed a few picture frames that had been added to the house in the last few months, hiding them them wherever Harry could fit them. 

Just as he suspected, Harry found his wand stuffed in the armchair; he grabbed it, scanning the room and noting no sign that he had made himself quite at home in the manor. For once, Harry was glad he had the habit of leaving no trace of himself behind, instilled generously by the Dursley’s. The only problem Harry no faced were the coats and shoes by the front door, a direction the men were heading in. 

Harry could also have a good look at them now, and he did not recognise either of their faces. In the nicest way Harry could think of, there was nothing special about the two. They were a brunette and blonde, similar in height and both wearing dark clothes. He was quite surprised at their lack of care, they were picking things up and carelessly placing in back where it did not belong. 

“There is nothing in this house, no sign of anyone else living here.” The smaller blonde huffed, running his wand along the wall. “I don’t even get the point of living in a house that’s practically a palace when it’s just those two.” 

“Well, they had their kid didn’t they.” The brunette replied, and Harry was relieved when he directed the other into a room. “The boy died though…”

Harry didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, he continued down the hallway and reached the front door. He haphazardly tried to hide his pairs of shoes and coats, quietly opening the wardrobe that held winter coats and boots. Harry wished the intruders weren’t in the room, for he could’ve grabbed a bag he knew had an expansion charm. 

In his panic to hide everything away, he had overfilled the wardrobe and as harry began to walk away, noting that the wizards voices were getting louder, Harry froze as he heard his shoes, and several boots falling to the floor. 

“What was that?” 

“I though you said everyone had left? Have we triggered the wards?”

“No, Dumbledore said we won’t.”

Initially, Harry was going to run and hide, but he knew he had to get out of there and warn someone. However, he needed to go into the room the men were leaving - his initial plan was to wait until the men had gone upstairs, and while distracted Harry would use the floo to quickly warn anyone and have them come through, either scaring the men away or capturing them to find out more. Harry knew his plan was completely flawed, but there was nothing else he could really do.

“It’s just the wardrobe.” One of the men, Daniel, walked over and he had no idea that Harry were a few steps away from him. “Quite a lot of shoes for two people.” 

Acting with little though, the moment the other moved closer to Daniel, Harry moved towards the kitchen. 

He pointed his wand towards the filled sink, mentally sending his apologies to his parents. “Stupefy.” 

Water exploded every where, a load bang as the hex collided with the metal. Harry ran from the room, running straight into one of the men, sending Harry and the man to the floor and ripping the cloak off Harry’s head. 

“What the fuck!” 

Harry wasted no time, he grabbed his wand and ran to the living room. He didn’t know if the men were close behind him; he slammed into the door and what seemed to every piece of furniture. He didn’t care though, he wretched open the jar of floo powder, stepped into fireplace and disappeared in a burst of green flames. 

“Mary McDonald’s home!”