by Procrastinator123
Harry barely noticed the walk back from Hogsmeade. His ears were still ringing with the conversation he'd overheard. His parents had been betrayed by someone who was meant to be their best friend. Anger like he'd never felt before coursed through his veins. For the first time since the year started, he wanted Black to find him, so he could kill the man himself! It was his fault that Harry had grown up with the Dursleys, and not had parents!
The young Gryffindor sped through the tunnel back to Hogwarts, not quite remembering how he'd made it back into the Honeyduke's cellar, when he felt a jolt just behind his naval. Then Harry was spinning, faster and faster, feeling a strong nauseating sensation, before he was deposited somewhere else. The boy stumbled and collapsed on the ground, unable to keep his footing.
Breathing hard, Harry picked himself up. Everything was bright and clean…but it was King's Cross station, of that he was certain. Only, it was empty. Harry had never seen the station empty in his life. He looked around, wondering what he was supposed to do now. For most people, this would be very odd, but for the young wizard, odd things happening was completely normal. Nevertheless, it was concerning to be alone in this place. The shock had halted the lad's temper, but it was being replaced quickly by trepidation.
Harry started walking in no particular direction, hoping that an escape from this place would happen upon him, or him upon it, before anything bad happened.
After what felt like forever, Harry grew tired of walking. He never seemed to get anywhere. He was on a platform, but it was endless! Just equally spaced benches and a never ending yellow line stretching into eternity. The boy flopped onto one of these benches, trying not to panic.
Glancing back the way he'd came, Harry spotted a figure walking towards him. He stood up, nervous. He had plenty of enemies, and this was a strange place with no one else around. It would be foolish to blindly trust this stranger.
However, the stranger didn't look threatening. It was a girl, delicate looking, and a few years younger than Harry. Perhaps a 1st year? Still, the boy took his wand out. Looks could be deceiving. After all, magic didn't require physical strength. The girl stopped walking when she got within a few feet of Harry, appearing to examine him. Then she smiled.
"Hello Harry," she said, her voice soft and pleasant.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, not bothering to ask how she knew his name. "And where am I?"
"My name isn't important," she replied, seeming amused. "As for where we are…I believe you would call it limbo." She smiled prettily, even as Harry's eyes widened in shock.
"Limbo?" he asked, feeling alarmed. "You mean I'm dead? How?"
The girl merely laughed, shaking her head.
"You're not dead Harry," she told him. "I brought you here."
All thoughts that the girl appeared harmless left Harry's head immediately. Clearly she was more dangerous than she appeared if she'd brought him to a realm of the dead!
"What do you want from me?" he demanded, starting to feel scared, though he'd be damned if he showed it.
Again, the girl just shook her head.
"Nothing," she answered. "In all honesty, I'm doing you a favour." She considered him again, and Harry found himself at a loss for words. This was a very strange thing to be happening.
"I can offer you the chance to meet your parents," she told him, looking sad, but also hopeful.
Harry started, staring at her with a mix of mistrust and longing on his features. Meet his parents? That was all he'd ever wanted for as long as he could remember! He had no memories of them, save for his mother's screams when he came near the Dementors.
"What?" he asked finally, still staring at the girl's face.
She smiled sadly, meeting his gaze.
"It won't be easy of course," she told him. "You will not be able to change any of the events that must unfold. But you will learn things…things that will help you bring your parent's murderer to justice."
"What do you mean I won't be able to change anything?" Harry asked indignantly. "You're sending me back…why can't I save my parents?" It seemed almost cruel, to get to meet his parents but be unable to lift a finger to save them.
"It is not that simple," the girl answered sadly. "The events that unfurled made you, you. To change them would create a paradox that could destroy the universe and everyone in it. Is that what you want?"
Harry shook his head quickly, understanding dawning on him.
"It's not fair," he murmured. There was nothing he wouldn't give to have his parents back. But perhaps the universe was too high a price. After all, what was the point in saving them if everything got destroyed in the process? Harry couldn't even comprehend the idea of a world not existing.
"No it's not," the girl agreed. "Most do not get the chance to go this far back in time Harry," she added. "It is your choice. If it is your wish, I can send you back to the moment I took you from your time. But if you choose this, I can give you a week with your parents. To get to know them, and gather information from the end of the last war…such knowledge could help you win the next one."
Harry thought it over carefully. Meeting his parents was his one true wish…he couldn't save them, but at least he would know them a little bit. Get a glimpse of what could have been.
"I'd like to meet them," he said longingly. "Please."
The girl nodded, and soon Harry felt that same whooshing sensation as he was magically transported back to the land of the living, around thirteen years into the past.
_
When the whooshing feeling ended, Harry found himself lying on a carpeted floor in a comfortably sized lounge area. Pushing his glasses up his nose, Harry examined his new surroundings. He was right next to a large fireplace. There was a pot of floo powder next on the mantelpiece, and moving pictures of a red headed woman, and a man with glasses and a messy haircut. Harry recognised several of the pictures, but one caught his eye almost immediately. It was the same one he had in his photo album of his parent's wedding. He'd never focused on the third person before, too enamoured with his parents, but next to James was another dark haired man. His arm over James' shoulder, laughing. If Harry hadn't known better, he'd never have guessed this was the same man in all the newspapers, wanted for thirteen counts of murder.
Any other time, Harry would have felt angry…but this must be his parent's house. Looking around the room more intently, he was surprised to see Muggle things around as well. A television in the corner…a telephone on the mantelpiece. Then he remembered that his mother had been Muggleborn. A window leading to a small, well-kept garden. It looked normal, but Harry spotted two brooms leaning against a shed. One adult sized…the other tiny, as though for a child. On the walls, there were more wizarding pictures, but these contained pictures of a toddler with messy black hair. In some, he was alone, in others, one of his parents was there as well. Harry stared at one with his baby-self zooming around the frame, with his mother laughing and watching. There was so much love in these images.
There were noises upstairs…voices. A baby cry…footsteps down the stairs.
Harry stood up straight, suddenly nervous. They didn't know him…he was practically trespassing! The door to the living room opened, leaving Harry staring face to face with the red haired witch from the photo. His mother.
Two pairs of identical green eyes met, both frozen in shock. Harry, because this was his mother who he'd wanted to meet for as long as he could remember. Lily, because there was a strange boy in her living room, and there was a war on.
"James," she called, reaching for her wand and pointing it in Harry's direction. It didn't shake, and she appeared perfectly calm, just wary. Harry kept staring. His own wand was in his robe's pockets.
There were more thumping footsteps down the stairs, and the sound of baby cries grew nearer, before Harry got his second heart stopping moment of the day. For there, right next to his Mum, was his Dad. Glasses perched on the end of his nose, but rectangular rather than round like Harry's, and hazel eyes rather than Harry and Lily's bright green. Other than that, Harry could have been James' clone.
"Who are you?" the man demanded, holding his wand forward. Harry's gaze glanced to his father's other arm, where a toddler clung to his hip. Deciding that looking at himself was odd, Harry looked at his parent's faces again instead.
"I…" he started, not sure what on Earth to say now that he was here. He'd dreamed of this moment many times…but now that he was here he had no clue how to even start. There were so many questions, so much he wanted to tell them, but instead he stood there, merely taking in their appearances.
Lily was just as beautiful as everyone had told him she was. His mother was staring at him, taking in Harry's appearance. As he watched, she rested a hand on James' wand arm.
"He looks just like you," she murmured. "You could be twins except for…" she paused, looking into Harry's eyes. "But that's not possible."
"No it's not," James agreed, also staring. "How did you get in?" he asked, addressing Harry again. "No one is supposed to be able to get past those wards."
"It…it's a long story," Harry said quietly, unsure what to make of his parents. They were…paranoid. He was just a thirteen year old boy; did they really think him a threat? As neither made a move to interrupt, Harry decided that they must want him to continue. "I was in limbo…and they sent me back to find out some…things. I don't think I'm supposed to say any more."
"But you are Harry, aren't you?" Lily asked, looking at him hopefully.
Harry nodded, opening his mouth to say more, but he'd been swept into Lily's arms. He hesitated just for a moment, before hugging her back. The boy bit his lip…he wouldn't cry. Not during his first ever hug with his mother.
"But how is this possible?" she asked, the urge to know reminding Harry strongly of Hermione. James was watching them, and still hadn't lowered his wand.
"Lils, this could be a trap," he told her. "Remember what Moody says…"
"You spend too much time with Mad Eye," Lily shot back, petting Harry's hair. "How else would he get past the wards?"
James' eyes lit up.
"That would prove it!" he exclaimed. "If he is Harry, he'll be keyed into the wards."
Lily looked less than impressed.
"It's not safe to head out. We're supposed to be in hiding!" she reminded him. Harry rested in her arms, listening to them discuss it. These were his parents…not Ron's or Hermione's…his. And they were everything he imagined, and more. Apart from the clear paranoia anyway. Harry found that odd.
"I suppose you're right," James acquiesced, but he looked slightly put out, before his face lit up again. "Do you know how to make a magical oath?" he asked, addressing Harry. Despite the paranoia, he clearly wanted to believe that this was his son stood in his living room.
Harry shook his head. It sounded serious…but things would be much smoother if his parents believed that he truly was their son from the future.
"You take out your wand, and you swear on your life and magic that you are Harry Potter," James explained, looking serious now. "If you are Harry, nothing bad will happen. I promise."
Nodding, Harry figured that since he was indeed Harry Potter, he had nothing to fear. Slowly taking out his wand, he pointed it at the ceiling, feeling a little foolish.
"I swear on my life and my magic that I am Harry James Potter," he said clearly. He felt a warm sensation spread over his body, and some sparks shot from the end of his wand like they had when he'd first held it, and then nothing.
"That settles it," James said, a boyish grin spreading over his face. Lily still had her hand on Harry's shoulder, whilst James came to embrace Harry as well.
"I can't pretend I understand how this has happened," he said. "But we are both extraordinarily glad to see you son." Lily nodded, looking a little tearful. Harry didn't understand at that moment, but would realise eventually that it was because they had been worried for his life. Seeing that he had made it to Hogwarts was a big relief for both his parents.
_
The three-way hug had lasted a while, when it was interrupted by baby Harry letting out a little whine. He reached for his mum, clearly having had enough of being squished between James and older Harry.
Lily chuckled, taking the toddler into her arms instead.
"We were going on a bear hunt weren't we?" she cooed, scanning the room for the 'lost' teddy bear. That had been what had brought her downstairs in the first place.
"Is teddy behind Daddy?" she asked, making it into a game whilst older Harry watched, smiling in amusement. This was what his life had been like as a baby. It was rather odd to watch if he was being honest. Little Harry was giggling as Lily made her way around the room, eventually reaching the sofa where Teddy was perched in plain view. Baby Harry had been pointing at it for a few minutes by this point.
Meanwhile, James was studying the time traveller with interest. This was his boy, all grown up. The uniform made it obvious that he'd made it into Gryffindor. James was very happy with that; he'd know the common room, have McGonagall as his head of house…all things he'd hoped his son would experience.
"So," the man started awkwardly, having no idea how to address the more grown up version of his son. "You're in Gryffindor…like your mum and me."
Harry smiled and nodded, also uncertain how to address his parents now that they were actually in front of him. It was a miracle.
"I'm on the house team too," he said hesitantly, remembering being told that his father had been a keen flyer. That seemed to be a good start as any to a conversation, as James' face lit up completely.
"Are you really?" he asked enthusiastically. "Oh, I'm so proud! I thought you might be…that toy broom you have…well, you just zoom around as fast as it will go. What position do you play?"
"Seeker," Harry answered, smiling at his Dad's happiness. There was an adult here, genuinely interested in his life.
"Brilliant!" James exclaimed. Harry started smiling again, before remembering that his broom had been destroyed and they'd lost their last match. His father likely thought he was a Quidditch prodigy.
"What's wrong?" James asked, noticing Harry's face fall. He'd gotten much more perceptive since spending most of his time with a toddler.
"The last game we played…well, we lost," Harry admitted.
To his surprise, James just smiled.
"You can't win them all," he said wisely. "You just get back on that broom and try again. If you always win, you wouldn't learn to get better."
Lily returned, carrying a baby Harry snuggling with his teddy, looking very content, if a little sleepy.
"How are you finding the rest of Hogwarts?" she asked, interested in Harry's life. "Have you made friends?"
Harry nodded, smiling as he thought about Ron and Hermione.
"I met Ron on the train," he told them. "He was my first friend. Hermione's my other close friend, but we didn't get on at first. Then me and Ron saved her from a mountain troll." Harry said this all very matter of factly, missing his mother's shocked expression, and his father's proud one.
"A mountain troll?" Lily exclaimed. "What on Earth were you doing near a mountain troll?"
Harry shrugged, hoping he wasn't in trouble.
"Well, someone let it into the school as a….as a prank. And we knew Hermione was crying in a bathroom and didn't know, so we went to go and tell her," he explained, a bit nervous of his mother's expression. "We didn't really realise that Hermione was with the troll."
"Sounds like quite the adventure," James told him, smiling. "But are you telling me you fought a troll in a girls' bathroom," he teased, unable to help himself.
Harry laughed, whilst Lily swatted at her husband rolling her eyes. Of all the things to focus on…
"What has been happening here?" Harry asked, wanting the attention off himself in case he let something slip. Telling them the future could have horrible consequences.
"Nothing much really," James answered. "We're in hiding, so haven't left the house in a while save for…well…probably shouldn't tell you."
Lily rolled her eyes at that near slip. Harry appeared much too young to hear about the Order of the Phoenix.
"Mostly we've been occupied with, well, you," she told him, feeling odd. She glanced down at the toddler version of her son, who was cuddling the bear whilst playing with her long hair. "You've just started walking…and flying." At the last word, she gave James a look.
"Hey, blame Sirius," James defended. "He's the one that got him that broom."
"But you're the one who let him fly around the house," Lily retorted, missing the dark look that crossed Harry's face at the mention of Black. Still, the loving banter was nice to witness. He could clearly see the affection between his parents.
"Nothing broke," James defended. "And he flies outside now…what's the harm?"
Lily just rolled her eyes, turning back to their grown up son. Harry was all she had to hope for.
"We're having a bit of a debate," she told him. "On whether your first word will be Mummy or Daddy."
"Lils, he's already said 'Da," James insisted. "And he calls you Ma."
"It doesn't count," Lily told him, her tone making it clear they'd had this discussion before. "Tell him Harry."
"I'm not sure I want to be involved…" Harry said hesitantly.
"You said Da before you said Ma," James informed his son happily. Harry grinned, happy to learn this information.
"Then he pointed at anything and everything and said 'Da' for a week," Lily replied, smiling lovingly at her son.
"It still counts," James insisted, before glancing at the toddler. "I reckon little you is about ready for bed," he told Harry, gently touching the messy hair on the toddler's head. Lily nodded, getting up.
"How about a tour," she suggested. "And then the little one can have a good sleep. Hopefully through the night." She winked, clearly not really minding the lack of sleep.
His mother led the way upstairs, babe settled and half asleep in her arms. It was a modest sized house, Harry thought. Comfortable, but cosy. He spotted what must be a kitchen as they crossed the hall to the stairs, where there was a bathroom and three bedrooms.
First, he was led into a nursery, where baby Harry was put into a cosy looking crib with a dial of snitches and broomsticks overhead. James leant over to plant a kiss on the baby's head, before they all left, leaving the door ajar.
"We'll put you in the guestroom," Lily whispered to Harry, pointing at a door. "The bathroom is just there, and that's James and I's room." She pointed out all these things as Harry smiled. Already, he felt more at home here than he ever had at the Dursleys'. "Are you hungry? We should be eating dinner around now."
Harry nodded, eager to help his parents make dinner. He knew that most people learned family recipes from their parents, and desperately wanted to get some of that whilst he was here.
"You'll have to tell me what you like and dislike," Lily said. "Baby's tastes are different to adult's after all." She smiled at him. "This is strange, isn't it?"
Harry nodded. It was strange. Probably stranger for them than for him. They were all strangers, but also family. It was wrong…it should not have been this way, but it was.
"How about pizza," James suggested from behind them. "Can't go wrong with pizza."
Though slightly surprised that his father knew what pizza was, Harry readily agreed. He'd never had it before, but it was one of Dudley's favourites.
Harry set about helping his mother make the base, whilst James waved his wand to make the vegetables chop themselves into bite sized pieces. Despite the oddness of the situation, Harry had never been happier. Here he was, making dinner with his family, and they were even doing it (mostly) the Muggle way. When he'd asked about that, Lily had seemed shocked, but simply claimed it tasted better that way. Harry then cursed himself. If he'd grown up with them, he would've known that.
After a happy family meal, Harry found himself exhausted, so excused himself to go to bed. For the first time in his life that he could remember, he had good night kisses from his parents. Both seemed a little hesitant, probably thinking he must be too old for such things by now, but Harry couldn't care less about all that. Contentedly, he fell into a dreamless sleep. His parents were more wonderful than he could have imagined.
_
Harry had slept like a log in his parent's spare room. The bed was a comfy single. However, in a house with a toddler, sleep didn't last.
The dawn light was just beginning to filter through the curtains when a wailing from the nursery interrupted the early morning peace. Clearly, one year old babies didn't quite understand the meaning of 'lie in.' Not long after the wailing disturbed Harry's sleep, he heard the unmistakable sound of stumbling, early morning footsteps as one of his parents got out of bed. Harry thought it might be James; he could imagine his father stumbling around before finding his glasses.
The footsteps exited the master bedroom and went down the hall. Immediately, the wailing stopped, and Harry could hear James' voice soothing the babe.
"What's all this then?" the man was asking. "What's all this? Did Mummy and Daddy try and sleep past dawn?" There was some childish giggling. "Shall we take you downstairs, and let Mummy lie in? Hmm. Ah ah – those are Daddy's glasses Harry. You'll have your own someday."
Footsteps, softer now, drifted down the stairs along with both the voices as James carried the toddler away. Harry remained where he was, smiling at the obvious love he could hear in his father's voice, despite being woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning. Knowing how much both his parents cared, and picturing the childhood he could have had made Harry all the more angry at Sirius Black. He'd taken all this away without a thought, and for what? A life sentence in Azkaban with the Dementors, though it can't have been much of a punishment as he'd not only escaped, but then snuck past them to get into the school and finish the job. Harry found that he still wasn't scared. In fact, he hoped Black succeeded in finding him, then he could exact revenge himself.
The boy rolled over, suddenly feeling tears behind his eyes. It wasn't fair. Why had his parents had to die? Their sacrifice had been for nothing. Voldemort wasn't dead, and it was likely only a matter of time until he found a way to get his body back. Harry wanted to scream, and rage, but he couldn't. Not without giving things away. He had been warned not to change the future after all; doing so could destroy the universe, and that was too high a price.
After some time tossing and trying to make the angry tears go away, Harry got out of bed and placed his glasses on his face. The small, comfortable room came into focus. Despite it being a spare, the room had character. There were a number of books on the shelf; most on Quidditch, but he recognised a few Muggle children's books. He supposed they must have been Lily's. Any other day, Harry would have stared at them for hours, but at that moment, he was too het up to sit quietly.
Tiptoeing downstairs, James' voice carried from the kitchen. Clearly, he was in charge of toddler breakfast. It seemed to be a rather clichéd rendition of 'here comes the snitch,' but Harry still smiled despite his earlier sadness and helpless anger. He had a good father.
Slowly, Harry edged round the door into the kitchen. James was sideways onto him, paying full attention to a giggling toddler. There was a bowl of what appeared to be mush between them, but Harry supposed that toddlers couldn't really eat many solids.
"Harry," James exclaimed, noticing the lingering boy quickly. "I didn't expect you awake this early…though, I suppose you're likely not used to noisy awakenings."
Harry smiled at him uncertainly. He couldn't really complain about being awoken…one could say, he'd woken himself. There was a short awkward silence.
"Would you like some breakfast?" James asked, rubbing the pack of his head. "There's some toast in the toaster which should…"
He was interrupted by said toaster pinging, signalling that the toast was ready.
"There we are," James said cheerily. "Little you likes jam best…this week. But we've got marmite, and cheese and things. Or something else of course."
"Jam on toast sounds great," Harry said, finding the awkwardness odd. When he'd imagined what his father had been like, awkward wasn't something he'd pictured.
As James bustled about making breakfast, the small toddler Harry was doing a good job at getting most of his food into his mouth. Harry could now see that it was porridge. However, it seemed that a large amount of food was going on the babe's face, or the table. Harry watched, not sure whether to be disgusted or amused.
Not long after both Potter men had dug into their toast, with the little toddler mostly licking the jam off his own portion, Lily came to join them. Harry had learned that his parents took turns doing the early mornings. He learned more and more the longer he spent with them. Their love, both for each other and for both the teenaged and toddler versions of Harry, was obvious.
The days flashed by in a happy bliss, with the teenager joining in the family's normal activities with the toddler. They played games, laughed and he even got to ride his dad's broom in the garden. Before he knew it, he was in bed having spent five days living in his parent's house and sharing their lives. Harry lay awake in bed, ruminating about the time he'd spent. Somehow, it felt wasted. He was getting to know his parents, of course, but it would change nothing! All it meant was that he'd go back to his own time knowing full well what he'd lost.
Next door, James Potter was also not sleeping easily. It was not one thing, but something seemed off about Harry. The lad knew next to nothing of the wizarding world, or about him and Lily. Harry was a stranger to them, who'd only known him as a toddler, but surely they shouldn't be strange to him. Nor should the wizarding world.
Lily too had noticed something was off, but had put it out of her mind. Bad things happened to those who meddled with time. It was better that she knew nothing, lest something alter the future. Whatever was coming of this war, Harry survived it, and would go to Hogwarts. And that was enough, to know that their son would make it.
The next morning, Harry was awoken once again by his younger self's wails, but this time it was his mother's softer footsteps and voice he heard come to comfort the toddler.
"Hello sweetheart, shh. Mummy's here," Lily was saying. "There we are little one; it must be breakfast time hmm?" She started humming a song Harry didn't recognise as she padded downstairs, toddler in her arms.
Hesitating briefly, Harry followed them downstairs. He didn't want to miss out on any time he had with his parents.
When he arrived at the kitchen, Lily was just settling the toddler into his high chair, laughing prettily at the babbles he was making. When she spotted Harry, a smile lit up her face.
"Good morning," she greeted. "You're up early again."
Harry nodded, trying not to yawn. He felt shy again, despite having relaxed the day before. Years of the Dursleys drilling in that he wasn't wanted, and that they'd rather not see him, let alone hear him, made him hesitant. His mother loved him, that was clear, and Harry didn't want that to change.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Lily asked, not seeming perturbed by the quiet boy.
"I don't mind," Harry said, shrugging. In truth, he wasn't too hungry yet.
"Little you has requested Weetabix to start," Lily told him. "There's toast; I was thinking of making eggs."
"I can make eggs," Harry offered, liking this idea. His mother smiled, pointing out where things were as she got the toddler started with his Weetabix and milk. Before long, mother and teenager were enjoying scrambled egg on toast (the toddler having tried a bite of egg, and clearly not thinking much of it, had then proceeded to scrape it off the toast to lick at the butter.)
"Hey Mum," Harry asked, having a sudden peak of curiosity. Lily looked over from her vain attempt to persuade the baby to have another try of the eggs. "What's the date?" he asked, unable to prevent himself wanting to know how much time they had left. It was easy to forget the danger in the peaceful, domestic bliss.
"October 30th," Lily told him, not missing the reaction this had on her son. His wonderful parents only had two more days in this life. "Harry?" she asked, green eyes, just like her son's, worried about the look on Harry's face. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "I was just curious, that's all."
Lily frowned, knowing that something was wrong, but she was not the brightest witch in her year for nothing. She knew that it was likely something she couldn't be told, as her baby was from the future.
"You can tell us anything Harry," she told him instead. "I know that the future is set in stone, but you're our son. We want to help."
Harry nodded, but knew he couldn't say a word. It would be cruel, to tell these wonderful people they only had two days left. Things couldn't change. Harry loved them, but the universe was too high a price to pay. But it hurt. Desperately, the boy wished that he could destroy the universe. However, despite only having known them a day, Harry knew that neither of his parents would want him to.
"Oh, we have some friends coming over today," Lily said suddenly. "Dumbledore thinks he's found a way to make this house safer. But…" She looked helpless, but Harry had figured it out.
"I ought to hide," he told her. "It's probably not a great idea to tell more people that I'm from the future." He forced a smile onto his face, but his mind was full. The events were already in motion. Later that day, Sirius Black would become the secret keeper; the one person who would know where his parents were. And then, he would betray them, allowing Voldemort to come into this peaceful safe haven and take Harry's parents from him.
_
Despite having volunteered, Harry found it immensely difficult to stay in his room whilst his parents and their friends discussed things downstairs. It reminded him of being back at the Dursleys, hiding in his cupboard, and later in his bedroom, whilst his Aunt and Uncle hosted important visitors. Though of course, this was both better and worse. Better, because he knew that he was wanted, and was hiding both for his own safety and that of the universe, but worse…because this meeting was the start of the end.
Losing his patience, Harry decided that he could at least listen. He wanted to know who was there…and what was said. He deserved that at least.
"…I assure you James, I am happy to keep the secret for your safety." Harry's eyes widened. The voice unmistakably belonged to Dumbledore.
"I trust Sirius," his father was saying, sounding impatient. "He'd never betray our location."
Harry felt a surge of anger. Black had betrayed his parents…after they defended him? What kind of heartless man would do such a thing? The boy's hands shook, and he longed to go down and give Black a piece of his mind, but of course he could not. That would put the entire future, the entire universe, in jeopardy. Harry had faced Voldemort two times…and he'd rather face him a third than have to listen to the man who would betray his parents.
He let the door close, muffling the voices, and collapsed on the bed to wait. Harry needed to be back to his usual self before they all left.
Eventually, Harry must have fallen asleep. When he awoke, it was to a pretty smile and lots of red hair.
"Sorry to disturb you darling," she murmured, hovering nearby as Harry reached for his glasses, bringing her pretty soft features into focus. "We're about to have lunch; are you hungry?"
Nodding, Harry heaved himself up. They must think him such a child for having a nap so early in the day.
"How did the meeting go?" he asked, wondering whether either of his parents knew what was coming. Harry wasn't quite sure which to wish for. How horrible, to know just before death that you'd been betrayed by a close friend…by a brother!
"Well," his mother answered, not noticing Harry's angry thoughts. "Some will be back tomorrow, to perform the spell. We trust our friends you know Harry. You don't have to hide."
"I probably should," Harry said, though it made him pleased to be wanted. "I don't think I'm supposed to let people know…bad things…"
"Happen to wizards who meddle with time," Lily said with a sad smile. "All right; if you're sure."
Harry nodded, also smiling sadly. Nothing good could happen of him meeting his parents' so called friend.
Harry hated himself more than he thought possible after he had said nothing during the entire day about the conversation that had condemned his own parents to death. What was the point of sending him back if he couldn't interfere? Was it so terrible that he wanted his parents alive? But despite himself, Harry knew to take the warnings seriously. He could change nothing.
Being with his parents, people who genuinely loved him was beyond anything he'd imagined. Both James and Lily had been ecstatic to get to know him. And the way they interacted with little toddler Harry…he wished with all his heart that he had grown up with these people, instead of the Dursleys.
However, he was starting to very much question his father's choice in friends. His father had defended Black to Dumbledore, declaring his trust in him to all that could hear. How could he betray his friend? It just wasn't right. And to top things off, this was the last sleep his parents would have, and he was doing nothing to prevent their demise!
Harry rolled over, mulling this all over in his head, when he heard a soft knocking at the door. The lad frowned, concerned. This was too early…the spell hadn't even been cast yet! Voldemort wasn't supposed to arrive in the middle of the night!
In the next room, he heard James' footsteps gently thump down the stairs, opening the door. There were muffled voices, both male. Lily's voice soon joined them after her lighter footsteps disappeared downstairs as well.
Unable to help himself, Harry crept over to his door, opening it to hear what his parents and their visitor were saying.
"Look James, I'm in danger anyway," the deeper voice said. Harry frowned, trying to work out who that was. "I won't be in any more danger this way, and you'll be safer."
"It's a big risk," James' voice answered. "I don't like it…and we're bringing another person in. What about Peter? How can I ask…"
"He won't be a target," the other voice said excitedly. "They'll never suspect him to be the bearer of your secret, and he's practically in hiding already."
"James, I think Sirius is right," Lily cut in. "We have Harry to think about after all."
Black! Harry thought, shocked as he realised the guest was the traitor. What's he playing at? He continued listening with more urgency than ever.
"What do we tell Dumbledore?" James asked, sounding resigned. "And Remus?"
Professor Lupin? Harry thought. Was he there friend too? But there was no time to mull that over. They were still talking.
"Nothing," Black answered. "The less people who know the better. There's still a spy in our midst. As far as they'll know, I'm still secret keeper."
There was silence for a few moments, before Lily spoke again.
"We should all go back to sleep," she said softly. "Do you want to stay over Sirius?"
"Nah," he answered. "I'll head back to my own flat. See you two in the morning…I'll let Peter know what's happening. I'm sure he'll agree. This could be the biggest prank we ever pulled James, don't you think?"
"Possibly…if it works," James murmured.
"It will," Black answered. "We can trust Peter. I'll see you both in the morning, all right?"
There were murmured 'good nights' before the front door opened and closed. Harry just heard a faint pop. Quickly, the boy shut his door again, creeping back to bed to mull over what he'd just heard.
They had been discussing the secret keeper business, as they had been earlier that day. But, something wasn't adding up. The teachers in the Three Broomsticks had stated that Black had been the secret keeper, and therefore the only one who could sell his parents to Voldemort, but the conversation that he'd just overheard…
Black had mentioned asking Peter…who must be Peter Pettigrew. But if Black wasn't secret keeper, then he couldn't have sold them out! Did that mean that Pettigrew was the traitor?
Maybe, Harry decided, but that didn't explain the deaths of Pettigrew and all those Muggles. Black had been caught red handed at the scene of the crime. Killing all those innocent people was the action of a Death Eater, and they said he'd been found laughing like a maniac. That didn't seem like something an innocent man would do.
Trying to think logically, like Hermione, Harry considered. If Black was not the secret keeper, and Peter was, then Peter was the traitor. His parents had died, so Peter must have sold them out. This meant that Black was innocent, as least of the most heinous crime. Perhaps, the deaths of those Muggles was an accident…and Black had only meant to kill Pettigrew. Harry himself wasn't sure what he'd do to someone who'd caused the deaths of Ron and Hermione.
Harry lay down on his pillow, listening to the soft sleeping sounds from the next room. Despite the late hour, he was wide awake. It was October 30th 1981. In the next 24 hours, his parents' lives would be stolen from them, and he'd be left an orphan, sent to live with the Dursleys whilst his Godfather rotted away in a prison that would leave him almost unrecognisable. And worse, there was nothing Harry could do to prevent any of it.
_
"Ecce committo secretum nostrum, 16 Godric's Hollow, in te, Peter Pettigrew. Tantum dabis in nostra situm est in abscondito. Fidelius."
After he'd overheard the change of secret keepers, Harry couldn't bring himself to go downstairs and face his parents. The entire world had shifted, but nothing had changed. His parents were still going to die, and he was expected to just let it happen! But now that time had ran out, Harry was not okay with that choice. It wasn't fair! James and Lily Potter were brilliant, friendly, good people. They did not deserve to die. Their sacrifice had been for nothing! Voldemort didn't even die. It was only a matter of time before he came back properly, with his own body. Harry's mother and father did not have to give up their lives. He could save them.
"No Harry," the girl's voice from the void spoke. "They didn't die for nothing. If you change this past, you will not like the future, even should this universe survive. Trust me."
Harry shook his head. Any future with his parents in it was better than without. He would never have had to go to the Dursleys. Never have had to grow up unloved and unwanted. Surely no future could be worse than his past. The thing he wanted most was right here, and he couldn't just throw that away!
"Harry; you don't understand," the voice said again. "Without the events of tonight, the war would not end. It would keep going, and Voldemort would win. He's winning right now, and the world is barely hanging on. When Voldemort died trying to kill you, the war was won right when it looked darkest. That's why you're famous."
"It's not fair," Harry said, feeling heat prickle behind his eyelids, making him wipe at them angrily. The voice didn't answer, but Harry understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. If Voldemort won, his parents would die regardless, along with countless others.
It was a few hours later that Harry finally ventured downstairs. He didn't want to face his parents, not knowing what, or who, was coming. James was humming as he set the toddler down for his dinner. Harry felt sorry for his younger self. He'd never get this with the Dursleys. The poor kid would have to endure a decade of being ignored and neglected before he went to Hogwarts. It would be as different as possible from the home life Harry had seen here, with casual magic used almost constantly, blending perfectly with a Muggle lifestyle. And two loving and attentive parents.
"Harry?" James questioned, looking up from where he'd been trying (and failing) to persuade a grumpy toddler to eat mashed potatoes. "Are you all right?"
Harry nodded unconvincingly. Things couldn't be all right. The man in front of him, his father, was going to die. Looking at his father properly, Harry was struck by how young he was. Barely out of Hogwarts. And much too young to give up his life. It wasn't fair.
"What's the matter?" James asked, clearly noticing that something was wrong.
Harry just shook his head, not daring to tell his father what was going to happen. He would heed the warnings. There was nothing he could do to save them.
"Are we good parents Harry?" James questioned, hoping that was what was wrong. He'd always feared he'd somehow screw things up, given how he'd been in his youth. Harry didn't know much about the wizarding world. Had Lily left him? Or had…
"The best," Harry said, meaning it. "You'd do anything for me…"
James got up, letting his infant son stay entertained by his food, to put a hand on his time travelling son's shoulder.
"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong," he said, looking into his son's face.
Harry shook his head again, pulling away.
"I'm going to go back to bed," he announced. "I'm tired."
And with that, he fled the room, dodging his mother on the way up the stairs. He couldn't save them. And therefore, he couldn't face them. How could he tell two such brilliant people they were going to die?
Harry spent the time alone fighting his tears and grief. He was wasting this time to spend with his parents, but he simply could not face them. Not knowing what was coming, and still being completely helpless to stop it. After a while, he heard a knock on the door, and Lily's hopeful face peered it, with a plate laden with food.
"Hello sweetheart," she greeted, smiling at him softly. "I thought you might be hungry. You missed dinner."
Smiling back, Harry accepted the offering, trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. There were a few signs of tears on his face, but the teenager was doing his best to hide them.
"Your father said you didn't seem yourself earlier," his mother stated, examining Harry's face. "Would you like to talk about what's upsetting you?"
Seeing the love on her face, Harry couldn't help it. Tears began to fall down his face once more, no longer kept imprisoned by Harry's willpower.
"Oh Harry," Lily murmured, moving the food aside to wrap him in a hug. "Let it out sweetheart."
And Harry did indeed let out his feelings onto his mother's shoulder. Being comforted like this wasn't helping what was wrong though. It was just showing him what he would lose, with nothing he could do to stop it. He breathed in his mother's flowery scent, trying to memorise it. After a while, James had come in to say that toddler Harry had been put to bed…and joined the hug. Through his tears, Harry wondered whether this was how all parents acted. It was nice, but knowing that was awful. They were going to die.
By the time he'd cried himself out, it was dark outside. It was embarrassing really. Teenage boys weren't supposed to cry. However, Lily didn't seem to mind, and James was smiling at him gently. The perfect supportive parents. Who were going to die.
"Now, how about you tell us what's wrong," Lily suggested softly, voice very gentle, but also firm. Both parents had a hand resting on their son's shoulders.
"I can't," Harry told her. "I want to…but I can't!" He sniffed, not wanting to start crying again.
"I think I know," James murmured, hazel eyes troubled. Lily met his eyes, and she knew too. She'd known for a while now she thought about it. It had only been a matter of time when Voldemort made them their personal mission.
"It's all right Harry," she murmured, rubbing his back. "Whatever happens…you survived; that's what's important."
James nodded seriously, his hand still resting on Harry's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry Harry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."
"Listen to me Harry," Lily said, her voice slightly choked. "Whatever happened to us, you survived. That's what's important."
"But it's not fair," Harry cried, more tears falling from the green eyes that were exactly like his mothers. The boy clung to his mother, feeling her warmth beneath his fingers. How many beats did her heart have left?
"I know sweetheart," she murmured, gently rubbing his back.
"We met you," James murmured. "No other parents in the world get to meet their grown up son from the future." He rubbed his son's back. "You're a strong lad, Harry. You live on for us."
They were interrupted by a baby's cries. Lily and James looked at each other fondly.
"I'll go," James offered, leaving to go and soothe the toddler's tears, giving Harry a last pat on the back. Lily kept cradling her teenage son, wordlessly comforting him as his tears fell, slowly dissolving into sleep.
Little known to anyone in the small family, a dark figure had just arrived onto Godric's Hollow, amidst the Muggle celebrations of the holiday. Fitting, he thought, to create a Horcrux on the night when the veil between the living and the dead was thought to be weakest. Moving quieter than a whisper, the figure made his way towards the cottage. Tonight, he would destroy the only threat to his immortality.
_
James had carried his toddler son into the living room, rubbing his back to stop the tears. Harry had cheered up quickly, as babies tended to do, but James Potter was deep in thought. He and Lily were going to die. Himself he could live with…but Lily! She was the love of his life; the person he'd made himself better to be good enough for. He'd never meet a kinder, smarter or more beautiful person, and he couldn't bear to think of how dark the world would be without her. And they'd be leaving their son behind. That was the worst part. But at least they'd had these short days together. It was something.
Pulled out of his thoughts, James turned his attention to his fussing son. With a small smile, he started making puffs of brightly coloured smoke with his wand, smiling fondly as the toddler attempted to catch them, laughing without a care in the world. It was a happy, peaceful scene that belied the sadness of the father. His son was much too young to be left alone. From the time traveler's actions, he'd figured that he and Lily didn't have long left. He tried not to think about the implications that had on his friends…whether or not Sirius had been caught and revealed Peter…if Peter had been the spy all along…these thoughts he put out his head.
As the door opened, James looked up to see Lily's bright hair, and unusually sad face.
"Harry's waiting for us upstairs," she told him softly. "We should put the little one back to bed though; it's well past his bedtime."
James nodded, dropping his wand down onto the sofa he'd been sat on and scooping up the toddler, whom he passed to Lily, before enveloping both in a swift, but heartfelt hug. He didn't want to leave them.
Lily cradled their son against her and started to climb the stairs, giving James a look. They would discuss everything once both their sons were asleep, she decided. At least their wills were written; they had sorted that as soon as they were married. Wartime made everyone careful with things like that.
Suddenly, the front door burst open with a loud bang. James sprinted into the hall, deliberately blocking the way to the stairs, where Lily was halfway up with their infant son.
"Lily, take Harry and go!" he shouted desperately. "It's him! Run! I'll hold him off-"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light filled the hallway in a blinding flash. By the time it had faded, James Potter had fallen limply to the ground, his glasses skew on his determined, still face.
Lily screamed as she heard the spell cast, and the unmistakable thud of James' body hitting the floor. A few tears escaped, but she still had her infant son in her hands, and the time traveler in front of her. All thoughts of her imminent death left her head, the will to live taking over. And more importantly, the strong motherly urge to ensure her sons survived.
She ushered the teenager into the infant's bedroom, attempting to barricade the door with a chair and boxes, knowing that the effort was futile.
"Harry, hide in the closet," she murmured hurriedly as she worked. "He doesn't know you're here." Tears were leaking hopelessly from green eyes, mirrored by her son.
"No," Harry protested, his green eyes wet. "I can't let you die!"
The mother stopped trying to block the door, pulling both versions of her son close to her.
"You can't save me sweetheart," she whispered. "But I think I know how to save you." She pulled him close, breathing in his scent, the proof that he would survive. So much like his father, but more like her. She had been lucky to know him.
"Be strong, Harry," she cried, tears spilling over. She didn't want to leave him all alone in the world, not when she was still needed.
She swiftly kissed Harry's forehead, before pushing him into the closet, praying that he'd hide. At least, she knew her son would be safe, even if she could not be there. She clutched at her toddler, listening to him breathe calmly, matching her breaths to his. He was too young to understand that this was no game, and that young calmness grounded her. The monster was coming, and she wouldn't let him get at her baby.
The door burst open with a loud bang, all efforts she'd made to barricade it flung aside uselessly. Lily dropped her baby into his crib, shielding him with her body. Standing before the murderer, she shook, but didn't move.
"You're not going to get Harry," she said, voice shaking minutely.
"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside now…"
"Not Harry!" she shouted. "Please no, take me, kill me instead-"
"This is my last warning-"
"Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…Not Harry! Not Harry. Please – I'll do anything-"
"Stand aside – stand aside, girl-"
But Lily would not stand aside and leave her son to the mercy of the madman before her. Even shaking and pleading, she was strong. He could have forced her away, but that was never an option for a lunatic like Voldemort.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light flooded around the edges of the cupboard Harry was hiding in. The boy was curled up, both hands over his mouth to stifle the sobs. Both his parents were dead, and he'd done nothing but hide like a coward! What was the point in sending him? The boy shook, terrified that the monster was so close. His younger self had started to cry.
It felt like an age before the dreaded curse was uttered again. But this time, the shouted curse had rebounded. Harry let out a yell as he felt the ground shake, hearing his younger self screaming even louder. The Earth shook for a long moment, before everything stilled.
Gingerly, Harry heaved himself out of the cupboard. The nursery was a ruin, with an entire section of the roof destroyed from the curse. And there, lying in front of the crib was his mother. Her red hair had fanned out beneath her, green eyes open and determined. There wasn't a mark on her body.
"Mum," Harry murmured, going to her side. He'd survived the killing curse; he could still hear his younger self's cries. Maybe there'd been a mistake? Maybe his mother had survived as well.
"Wake up mum," he said, voice slightly stronger. "Please...I still need you." The boy sobbed, clutching at his mother's shoulders like a lifeline. But Lily Potter was dead.
Sniffling, Harry gently closed her eyes, hating to see the kind green orbs so lifeless and scared looking. Then he stood, trying to contain the emotion. He couldn't stay.
"Goodbye mum," he whispered, feeling more tears slip down his face from behind his glasses, before he fled from the room.
Harry stumbled down the stairs, blinded by the tears still falling steadily down his face. When he tried to get to the door he tripped. Looking down, he spotted pyjama clad legs. Unable to help it, Harry looked, seeing his father's lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Sobbing, Harry reached for his father's hand. It was still warm to the touch, and there wasn't a mark on James' body, but Harry knew he was gone.
"I'm sorry Dad," he murmured. "And Mum. I'm so sorry." He reached out a shaking hand towards his Dad's shoulder, wanting to shake him awake. There wasn't a single mark on him…but he was gone. Harry's hand clenched into a fist before it reached his father's shoulder, sobs making their way out of his throat. He couldn't stay to grieve. Hagrid was coming…and Black. He couldn't be seen. Slowly, he clambered to his feet, staring at his father and wanting to stay, but it wasn't an option.
Running out of the house, Harry ran blindly, flinging open a gate into a cemetery to continue running, tears streaming down his face. Voldemort had killed them both to get to him, that much was clear. But why? Why had his parents had to die?
The boy collapsed in a heap against a gravestone and started to sob. Voldemort had killed them both in cold blood, without any hesitation. There was a heavy weight in his chest…a mix of crushing grief and raging, fiery hot anger for the monster. His father and mother would never feel such things again. Their bodies were lying in their ruined home, a symbol of the perfect little family that had been destroyed also. His father's lifeless body, lying in front of the stairs wouldn't disappear from behind Harry's eyelids, nor would his mother's, sprawled beside the baby's crib, his toddler self screaming for his mother's attention.
"Not all is lost Harry," the girl said, appearing before him, much like any of the ghosts at Hogwarts. "You have lost your parents, but there is someone you can save."
"Black?" Harry asked, wiping at his face. What did that matter now? His parents had died! But…a deeper part of Harry thought what they would want. He was their friend…they'd want the real killer brought to justice.
"But…he wasn't imprisoned for murdering my parents!" Harry realised, thinking of the futility. "Why did you bring me here? There was no point! They still died! And Black is still a murderer!" Harry's breath caught, a sob wedged in his throat. He had always missed his parents, but having faces, and people, to put to those roles made everything ten times worse. He knew what he'd lost, and what he could never have.
"Think Harry," the girl urged, interrupting his thoughts. "Pettigrew was cornered. Sirius was the better dueller. What else to do but fake his death and hide. It wasn't just Sirius Black after him. Lord Voldemort was destroyed on his information. The Death Eaters didn't take kindly to that."
"Fake his death?" Harry asked. "That's ridiculous!"
The girl shook her head, watching him.
"Then…Pettigrew did it? All of it?" Harry asked. "Black is innocent?"
The girl nodded again.
"That's why you sent me here," Harry deduced. "To right the wrong done to him?"
"Partially; but he was also supposed to raise you," the girl answered. "And would have done, if not for Pettigrew's cunning and cowardice. Harry don't you see; with him free, you can rebuild the life you should have had. You can have a family"
"But why not sooner?" Harry shouted. "And what do you care? You don't know me! You're dead!"
"Technically I was never alive," the girl said quietly. "And the rest doesn't matter. Use this information, Harry, and you'll have a family again."
With that, Harry felt a jerk behind his naval and a bizarre rushing sensation. When it ended, he was back in the tunnel to Hogsmeade, right where he'd been before he had met his parents and started the whole emotional adventure. The boy clutched at the wall, wiping away his tears. He would grieve for his parents for a long time, but at that moment, he had a person to save. Someone who was probably as lost and alone as he felt now.
fin