Disclaimer: I don't own HP, go figure...

Chapter 1

Euphemia Potter took a certain pride in ancestry—she was a well bred lady proud of her magical heritage. But at the same time she never belittled those without such a heritage. This wasn't a matter of pride, just common courtesy and common sense. But sadly, she knew that her attitude was not a common one.

Wizards were unsurpassed when it came to holding grudges, and in Euphemia's view, that's just what the self-styled Lord Voldemort had; an unsurpassed grudge against muggles and muggleborns. A simplistic view of the war, to be sure, but a sensible one in her opinion.

As Euphemia pressed herself against the wall of Madame Malkin's shop, her son James beside her, she couldn't help but curse the wizards' seemingly innate inability to move on, to forgive, and to let go of such grudges.

Spell-fire and explosions rocked Diagon Alley. The doors were physically barricaded with hasty wards thrown up to protect them, but every stray spell sent the whole building trembling.

Euphemia clutched James' hand tighter. Her fifteen year-old son was staring out the window—the parts not covered by clothing racks, tables, and benches—with wide eyes.

"The Aurors are here now, Mum," he said quietly, squeezing her hand. "It'll be okay."

Euphemia released a shaky breath but didn't loosen her grip on James' hand. She didn't want to look out the window, but her eyes were drawn to the scene anyway. She could see the Aurors had indeed arrived and were pushing back the Death Eaters swarming the Alley.

A few minutes later the sounds of fighting had ceased and an official-looking wizard came up to the door of the shop. Madame Malkin tentatively went up to the door, but didn't open it.

The Auror just gave her a tired smile and a thumbs up through the glass part of the door before moving on.

Everyone in the store gave a collective sigh of relief and several people began helping Madame Malkin replace her furniture and clothing racks and take down the wards.

Euphemia and James slipped out after a moment, Euphemia still holding her son's hand and pleased that James hadn't tried to pull away. Several people were helping the injured up and either apparating them away or leading them towards to Floos in the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed everyone was taken care of.

Euphemia released another shaky breath, her old heart fluttering uneasily in her chest.

"It's alright, Mum," James said. "Let's just get home."

A quiet groan stopped Euphemia from nodding to James. She turned to the side and found that her cursory glance of the Alley had missed something. A boy with familiar messy dark hair was on his knees only a few feet away, wand tight in his fingers and one hand pressed to his side. He slumped all the way to the ground with a pained moan, and the mother in Euphemia immediately released James' hand and hurried to the poor boy's side.

"Mum!" James shouted in surprise, but Euphemia focused fully on the boy.

"James, find an Auror or a Healer, if you can," Euphemia ordered, kneeling down next to the boy. She carefully rolled him up on his side so that gravity could help keep the blood in his body, and scooted up so that his back was supported by her knees. She gently pressed his hands, already covering his wound, harder against it to stem the bleeding. "Hold it tight there, dear," she told softly. "My son's gone for help, you'll be alright."

The boy grunted but didn't otherwise respond, pressing his face against the stone ground.

"What's your name, dear?" Euphemia asked as she pulled out her wand. She knew better than to cast any complicated or comprehensive healing spells on such a deep wound when she wasn't a certified Healer, but she did have a son, meaning she knew a little bit about dealing with wounds in general.

"Harry," the boy mumbled.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Euphemia said kindly as she cast a blood clotting charm and then conjured a bandage that she quickly slipped between the boy's hands and his side. "My name is Euphemia."

"Pleasure," Harry murmured. He was awfully pale and Euphemia could feel his whole body trembling.

"You must be in shock," Euphemia said, more to herself than to Harry, but the boy answered anyway.

"You think?" he huffed. "I thought I was taking it rather well."

"No need to get sarcastic," Euphemia scolded, but without any real heat. She looked down at him and pressed her lips tight together. He looked too young to be here on his own. "Is you family here, Harry?"

"They're dead," he said bluntly, and Euphemia guessed this wasn't a recent development or he wouldn't be so blasé about it.

"Who are you here with?" Euphemia pressed, looking around to see if any adult or friend would come to claim the child.

"No one," Harry whispered. "No one at all."

Euphemia stared at the boy, feeling her heart break for him.

"Over here!" James called, and Euphemia automatically looked up, searching for her son. James was jogging over with a Healer in tow.

The Healer immediately knelt down opposite Euphemia on Harry's other side and cast a few diagnostic charms. "This is serious Dark magic," the Healer proclaimed. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's immediately."

Euphemia nodded but kept her hand on Harry as the Healer stood again.

"Levicorpus," the Healer intoned, waving his wand and causing Harry to rise a few feet into the air. "The Aurors have set up an apparition point to St. Mungo's just a little ways down."

"Lead the way," Euphemia said, one hand tight on Harry's arm as the Healer cast a few more healing charms on Harry's wound.

While they walked, the Healer glanced between Euphemia, James, and Harry and asked, "Is this your son, ma'am?"

Euphemia hesitated only a moment before answering definitively, "Yes, he is my son."

If this boy's family really was dead, and he truly had no one at all… well, Euphemia wasn't about to let him stay that way. She'd adopt him herself. And she wasn't going to let herself be separated from him in the controlled panic of St. Mungo's. She wouldn't risk him being released from St. Mungo's before she was sure he had somewhere to go. It was deplorably easy these days for children to be lost in the chaotic aftermath of a raid.

Her decision cemented, Euphemia glanced back at James and smiled at his confusion. "His name is Harry."

"James! James!"

James looked up at the sound of his father's voice and saw the man rushing toward him, relief evident on his aged features. "Dad," he said, matching his relief.

His father reached him and immediately pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank Merlin you're alright," Fleamont Potter said, holding James close. "I came as soon as I heard about the attack. Were you hurt? Where's your mother? Is she hurt?"

"We're both fine," James said into his father's robes. "But I think we're adopting."

Fleamont pulled back a little, but still kept his arms around his son. "Did a kitten get caught in the crossfire?" he asked dryly.

James grinned. "Something like that."

"Because with the amount of rescued creatures we've taken in Potter Manor is getting a bit crowded," Fleamont joked.

James shared a quiet laugh with his father over his mother's propensity for taking in injured or lost creatures, from kittens to house elves to, apparently, children. "No, this is an actual person. It was a boy, my age I think. Mum stayed with him while I went to get a Healer and when I came back she told the Healer he was her son and has been badgering them about him ever since we got here."

Fleamont stared at him for a long minute before he sighed. "You're serious."

James nodded, giving his father an amused smile.

"Well, I guess you'll be getting a brother," Fleamont said, shaking his head. "You know your mother. Once she's decided to take some hapless creature in, there's no denying her."

"But this is a person," James said, finally pulling all the way apart from his father. "A person could say no to Mum."

"Unlikely," Fleamont scoffed.

"Right," James said with a huff. "He can have the room next to mine.

"You look just like James."

Harry fiddled with the edge of the sterile white hospital shirt the Healer had given him in place of his ruined on. "Er, yeah, I guess," he mumbled, eyes downcast. "Funny that."

Mr. Potter, Harry didn't know his name (and how awful was it that Harry didn't know his own grandfather's name?), snorted, having been the one to comment on the similarity between Harry and his son.

"We could be twins," James said, incredulous awe coloring his voice.

"I think it's a sign," Euphemia proclaimed from where she stood a little to the side of Harry's bed with his burned robes draped over her arm.

Harry had been more than a little shocked when she had given him her full name and then told him unequivocally that she'd be taking care of him if really didn't have anyone else, like he'd said before.

"A sign that we should take him home, stuff him with food, and smother him with love?" James teased.

"Don't take that tone with me, James Potter," Euphemia said, sniffing indignantly, but Harry could see that she didn't mean it. She was teasing him right back. And Harry could only marvel at the sight.

"I'm just saying," James said, bringing his hands up in surrender. "This wouldn't be the first time."

"He has a point, dear," Mr. Potter joined in.

"There's nothing wrong with helping people," Euphemia said imperiously.

"We should rename Potter Manor," James joked.

"St. Euphemia's Rescue Home," Mr. Potter said with a grin.

The two chuckled, and Euphemia blushed a little. "Oh hush, you two," Euphemia said. "You're being rude. You haven't even introduced yourselves."

Both Potter men looked properly chastised and James bounded forward and stuck out his hand toward Harry. "I'm James Potter."

"Harry," he responded, firmly shaking his teenaged father's hand.

"Harry what?" James asked, curious.

"Just Harry," Harry said shortly, unsure of how to proceed. Fate, git that it was, hadn't given him many details or instructions on how to go forward. It had just dumped him in this new universe with a few sentences and a 'have fun!' He doubted it was a coincidence that he'd appeared so close to the Potters though.

"Fleamont Potter," Mr. Potter said, stepping forward and shaking Harry's hand as well. "As you may have guessed, my wife is quite intent on taking care of you."

Harry smiled a little. Being taken care of was a nice thought, but he hardly needed it. He'd gotten through eighteen years of his life without a family to take care of him, he was just fine. "I appreciate it," Harry said quietly. "But I'm alright. I'll find my way."

"Harry, dear," Euphemia cut in with a gentle voice. "You said your family was dead and you had no one with you."

Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he wasn't sure it worked. "I'll find my own way, Mrs. Potter," he reiterated. "I've had a lot of practice."

"But you're just a child!" Euphemia protested.

Fleamont opened his mouth to say something to that, but Harry beat him to it. "I'm eighteen, Mrs. Potter. And I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I'll be okay."

Fleamont's eyebrows shot up at that. "Forgive my saying so, Harry, but you hardly look it."

"Yeah, you don't look any older than me," James agreed.

"How old are you?" Harry asked, tilting his head curiously.

"Fifteen," James responded.

A quick calculation told Harry that meant the date was somewhere around 1976.

"I don't believe you're older than sixteen," Euphemia huffed.

"I think you burst her bubble," James said, leaning in close and fake-whispering. "She really wanted to keep you."

"Harry," Fleamont said, stepping forward. "We won't force you into anything, but we'd like to know that you at least have somewhere to go."

Harry opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. Because he couldn't just up and find somewhere to stay. Not like before when, at the very least, he could find a secluded area and throw up a tent and some wards. As far as he knew, he'd arrived in this universe with nothing but his memories and the clothes on his back.

"Well, where were you staying before?" James asked sensibly when Harry didn't respond.

Harry hesitated again, making Euphemia burst out, "You haven't been living on the streets have you? All alone?"

"Well…" Harry dithered. He couldn't very well say he'd been alternately living in Grimmauld Place or a wizard tent, could he? "I have, sort of, been on my own for a while…"

Euphemia made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, and James grinned at Harry. "Oh, you're in for it now," he whispered.

Fleamont sighed. "She's just going to kidnap you now, Harry."

James snorted, and Euphemia pinned them both with a glare. "Harry," she said, refocusing on him. "I don't mean to pry and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but would you perhaps tell us what happened to you? Even if you don't want to stay with us, perhaps we could help you."

"Er," Harry faltered, unsure of where to go from here. Hiding certainly had its pros: no one would try to lock him up in the mental ward, and he was less likely to disappear into some deep dark room in the Department of Mysteries. But then, being honest would certainly make interacting with people easier. Harry took a deep breath and began.

Fleamont could practically feel his brain failing to grasp what the boy in the hospital bed was telling them. The more he talked, the less Fleamont believed it. And yet… the boy seemed so sincere. And why lie about this? The Potters weren't that important of a family. Still, the story just seemed so impossible.

"Can you repeat that?" James squeaked when Harry concluded. "In small, summarized sentences."

Harry's lips twisted into a crooked smile and he said, "I'm your son from another universe. Fate ruined my life with a prophecy. It sent me here to give me a chance at a more normal life. It also said something about sending me to a James Potter than needed me as much as I needed him but," –here Harry shrugged– "I have no idea what that is supposed to mean."

James stared for a long moment before he whispered, "I do."

Fleamont looked sadly at his son, once again reminded that James' attitude as an eleven year-old had immediately put a lot of people off being his friend. He had many acquaintances, but no true friends. It seemed almost providential that this young man, who obviously needed friends and family, would show up so near Euphemia and James, both of whom treasured family and friendship.

Fleamont took a deep breath and decided: if this was a trick he'd get to the bottom of it, but if it wasn't he was going to love this boy like he was his own son—or grandson. "If you want, Harry," Fleamont said. "Our home is open to you."

It was subtle, but Fleamont could see the surprise written on the dimension traveler's face. "I… really?"

"Of course, dear!" Euphemia exclaimed. "We have more than enough space. Besides it'd do James good to have someone his age to spend time with."

Harry's eyes flitted from one face to the next before they settled on James. "A-alright…"

James cheered. "Yes! Now I really can have a twin!"

Euphemia grinned and hugged Harry in her typical motherly fashion.

Fleamont smiled at the reaction. He was glad he had retired a few years ago and sold his company. He already knew he was going to be very busy.

The coming days were generally split three ways; he ran a test to confirm Harry's story, he worked to create Harry's existence in their dimension, and he spent some quality time with his family and their new addition. He tried an ancestry potion and he talked with someone in records about slipping in some documents. He tested Harry for glamours, transfigurations, or potions and he spent a few hours creating a story for Harry's past. He ran Charms tests on Harry's magic and blood for relation to the Potter family and he sent a letter to Headmaster Dumbledore concerning the enrollment of James' twin brother.

By the time August ended, Fleamont accepted the fact that he now had another son and thanked Fate for the gift he was.

Author's Note: So, just an idea that's been bothering me. And since I've been a bit stuck on my other HP story I decided to throw this one out there. This is one of those rarer stories that doesn't bash James. Will probably focus on Harry and James, a good amount of Remus, and then an equal amount of Sirius, Lily, and Snape. Might even give Peter a second chance since this is AU...

So, what did you think of chapter one?