The Parent Trap

by Mogseltof

My take on the Lily and James come back to life idea- set in the Summer before Harry's fourth year what happens when Dumbledore and McGonagall run into a couple of unexpected someones in the shrieking shack? T for foul language

1. Prologue: That Sinking Feeling

The Parent Trap

Garrah! Mogseltof speaking- Just an idea… I've read a couple of these, but none really set them out in the way I was thinking it should be done. It's a fun idea though and I thought I might have a play with it.

Disclaimer- Ooh! Idea! Story disclaimer! I own zilch! Yippee!

Prologue- That Sinking Feeling

All Harry Potter was expecting was a normal summer holiday. Admittedly a summer holiday a bit better than his last few (with his 'criminal' godfather as leverage against his, ahem, overbearing relatives) and a trip to the Quidditch with his best friends, but a fairly ordinary holiday nonetheless. So, needless to say, he was surprised when it turned out not quite as ordinary as he was expecting it to be…

It all started the day after his birthday. For all intents and purposes, it was a normal day. It started normal, it felt normal to begin with and to his aunt, uncle and dieting cousin, it was a normal morning. Harry had pretended to stick to Dudley's diet, while his aunt had made sickening cooing noises about what a brave boy his cousin was, and his uncle had grunted and complained like usual. Dudley stole most of everyone else's breakfast of course.

The madness started around midday.

His family didn't exactly notice though. Before lunch Harry thought he might sit in the garden for a little, increase his vitamin d intake, the Hermione in his head chirruped happily. He plonked himself lazily on the garden bench that he had painted years before and contemplated the benefits of taking a walk to the park up the road, get out from under Dudley's nose for a while, and stop his aunt realising that there was an untapped source of labour in his body.

It was one of those days where it was too hot to do anything. He was panting by the time he reached the park, and wondered whether it would be worth looking like a git and wearing shorts to get rid of the weight of denim on his legs. No. for starters it would be too much effort to go back to Privet Drive to get the shorts, and aunt Petunia might spot him.

Plus he would look like a git.

The metal of the various playground equipments was blistering in the summer heat, so Harry sat on one of the swings and began to push himself back and forth lazily, stopping after a few minutes when the small effort became too much.

At first, he thought the heat was getting to him. It was as if his blood was boiling in his skin. He stopped moving and started to head over to the paltry water fountain on the other side of the park in case it was a heatstroke, but collapsed before he got halfway.

It hurt. In later years, he would compare the pain to the likes of the cruciatus curse, but that day in the park, all he could think was that it hurt as nothing had before. His blood was boiling, bubbling, it was like his skin was being torn apart and his scar was hurting worse than the time he had killed Quirrell.

The pain stopped suddenly, and Harry sat up, gasping. He stumbled over to the drink fountain and gulped massive amounts of the warm water, before running back to Privet Drive. He was shaking all over, and his head felt like it was going to split open with that dull pain that was a roaring headache.

Harry ran inside and up to his bedroom, mercifully ignored by his aunt and uncle (Dudley was 'at tea' with his 'friends'). He ripped open the loose floorboard and pulled out the pillowcase with all the food he'd been sent in it, devouring half a birthday cake and a packet of chocolate frogs before the sugar kicked in and his pulse calmed.

What the hell had just happened?

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On the other side of the country, a young-ish woman pumped her fist and screamed a "Yes!"

Her daughter poked her head around the door of the study and blinked at her owlishly. The woman shook her head and shooed her out.

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Meanwhile, at a magical school in the wilds of Scotland, a few odd things had been happening.

Most of the teachers had gone home for the summer holidays- to recuperate for a few weeks before the hordes of students fell upon the school once more, and to plan their courses for next year. Alternatively, to rehash their old ones and make sure they were up-to-date. Albus Dumbledore however, had never left. He liked the calm of the empty school, and the headmaster's quarters were more than comfortable enough for him. So it was on this bright, stinkingly hot day that he and Minerva McGonagall (who had come up from her friendly house a way out from the castle on the moors) found themselves walking down to the Hogshead pub to have a drink and a chat to Aberforth.

Well, Minerva would chat while Aberforth glared at his older brother.

That plan however, was disrupted when they heard a series of loud noises coming from the direction of the shrieking shack.

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Lily Potter, nee Evans, was in a foul mood. She was in the shrieking shack, without a wand, she didn't know how she'd gotten there, she couldn't find her baby, she couldn't find a way out, one of their most trusted friends had just sold them out to Voldemort and her complete prat of a husband wouldn't WAKE UP!

She screamed, threw a chair at a wall (where it disintegrated from age) and aimed a vindictive kick at said husband to vent her feelings.

James Potter stirred with a faint moan and then sat bolt upright, eyes wide with panic. "Lily! Are you alright? Is Harry alright? I'm alive? Where are we? Peter sold us out? What happened? Where's my wand?"

Lily growled, her expression so fierce it would have sent a werewolf scrambling (and had, on occasion). "Oh I'm just spiffing! Absolutely fantastic! I don't know where Harry is, no shit Sherlock, seems like we're in the fucking shrieking shack, NO SHIT SHERLOCK, IHAVEN'T GOT A FUCKING CLUE AND IF I KNEW WHERE YOUR WAND WAS THEN I WOULD KNOW WHERE MINE WAS!"

James winced slightly at this shouted deliberation, but jumped up when his wife collapsed into sobs. "Shh, shh Lily. It'll be alright. We'll figure something out." He made soothing noises, his heart sinking. Voldemort. In all likelihood, his laughing baby boy was dead, and there was worse waiting for themselves. Without wands, they were, to use something Lily had dubbed 'Paddy Terminology', screwed.

There was a creak from downstairs of someone opening the front door, and James and Lily jumped up and raced onto the landing, determined not to go down without a fight.

And that was how Albus and Minerva found their famously dead alumni, in the shrieking shack, on the first of August, 1994.

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There we go- what do you think? Interesting? Attention grabbing? Please do tell- there's a little blue link just underneath here where you can- I accept anonymous reviews! Nah, I don't mind. It would be nice, but not necessary.

I really shouldn't be writing this (what with another three fics on the go, and my Ginny centric Chamber of Secrets slowing down to beyond sluggish), but I couldn't resist a dabble.

TTFN
XD Mogseltof