Chapter Text
News traveled quick.
They weren’t meant to, of course, but they did. If Harry was to decide, he wouldn’t want anyone to know. But he didn’t have that kind of power.
Here’s what I know, he jotted down on a spare piece of parchment he’d ripped out from a discarded notebook.
Snape killed hims, scratch that.
Prof. Snape has ended his, that sounds stupid.
Snape is dead.
James Potter is not… anymore.
Harry Potter was going to meet his Dad. It was great news, wasn’t it? So… why was he curled up in a ball, sobbing quietly on the shoulder of Hermione? Why wasn’t he out celebrating on the Quidditch pitch with Ron? Truth be told, Harry himself had no idea why.
Hermione offered a few consoling words. ”It’s normal to be nervous about this, Harry. Anyone would be if they were in your shoes right now.”
Of course, the whole castle was a little thrown off. The sudden death of their Potions professor had felt like a bucket of ice cold water over the student body. Everyone was a bit out of it, to say the least. And then came the (admittedly true) rumors about a certain Potter coming back to life.
When Harry was called to Dumbledore’s office, he was met by a group of people in the unmistakable Ministry robes. The sight startled him and he instinctively took a step back. But then his Headmaster had put a steady hand on his shoulder and told him to take a seat.
Twenty minutes later, they had explained everything to him. Harry shivered just thinking of the sheer amount of information they had piled on him that afternoon. He wrote down more points on the parchment.
No one knows exactly why James is alive, but it’s theorized to have something to do with Lily and Severus..?
I’m so scared.
”Hazza! Malfoy’s asking if he can come in. Okay with that?” Ron asked him, forcing Harry to look up.
”Oh, yeah… Sure,” Harry stumbled over his words. He should have felt embarrassed about it, but he was too busy feeling the weight of literally everything else.
Ron said something. What it was, he couldn’t tell you. The redhead made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Soon enough, the spray of water in the shower started. And then he heard those quiet footsteps, followed by a voice he knew so well. ”Harry?”
Without looking up, Harry sent his hand out to yank the other boy down on the bed next to him. Draco huffed in surprise, but his stiff frame softened up almost instantly as Harry clinged to him.
”You know… You don’t have to meet him if you really don’t want to. Not yet, at least. Not today,” the blonde boy mumbled.
Harry swallowed thickly. If he hadn’t been sobbing twice that day already (—and it was only lunchtime, what a joke!), he might have cried again. But no, his eyes were so dry they couldn't even produce tears anymore He could only sigh and hold the other even closer.
”Hmm… I know, but it has to be today. Do I look okay?” Harry grumbled, closing his eyes. He could almost hear the other boy roll his eyes.
Draco huffed, ”You’re meeting your father, Harry, not going on a date.” He was met by a sharp glare that only put a smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. ”Yeah, you look perfect, darling. Don’t worry.”
”Mmm,” Harry hummed softly, then pressed a quick kiss on Draco’s cheek before slumping down on the bed again... face first.
☆
”Moony,” he exclaimed when he spotted the gangly and quite unmistakable silhouette of his friend. ”You— what, Merlin—…”
After a few long seconds, James finally broke out of his paralysis and threw himself in the arms of the man before him. “Moony! Holy shit, you’re like so old, mate…” Remus snorted at his remark, “I’m not that old, Prongs.”
Though it was undeniable. His friend had definitely changed. A lot, at that. His height was pretty much the same, but he appeared an inch or so shorter – must be that slouched posture he carried. The scars over his face and limbs had faded ever so slightly. He did look a bit worn out, but not in the way he did back when they were both young. Now, Remus just looked like a man who had lived through shit.
If only Padfoot was here–
Oh. Right. Sirius is dead now.
See, James knew about everything that had happened since that last October night. It was difficult for him to grasp where his mind had been during the years he’d been dead, and even harder to explain to the Aurors. He had done his best to describe what he had felt during that time. After countless meetings with an array of different Aurors and other people form the Ministry, he ended up with a watered down version of what he remembered.
When the green light flashed before his eyes, James Potter knew he was dead. But the simple concept of knowing that you’ve died… isn’t that just proof you’re still alive?
He couldn’t see anything, he didn’t have eyes. But he was aware. Still, in some sort of liminal space, waiting for something, anything, to happen. He’d knew that Lily died. He was there when the dementors sucked out piece upon piece out of Sirius’ soul. He’d been aware of every Full Moon when Remus’s werewolf writhed in the pain of missing his lover. He was there and he saw when Peter got away. James knew about all of these things.
Although his body didn’t seem to know. The first night after he resurrected (or whatever it was that he did), he had been repeating the same phrase to himself… Lily will know what to do. Lily will know what to do. Lily— But Lily was dead. That’s fine, I’ll just floo to Sirius’ instead— But he’s dead too. That’s okay I can go to Peter’s and— No. Not Peter. Not anymore.
But Remus was still the same, and what a fucking relief that was. Well... Same in every way except the physical proof of the rough years he'd lived through. Those were some changes James would be able to get over.
Eventually.