A/N: Do not attempt to read this story if you have not read the stories before this one, it's to confusing to try and explain it in a sum up paragraph, plus if you haven't read "Harry Potter and the Picture of Temptation" or it's sequel " Harry Potter and the Prince of Darkness" this story is quite pointless. Seriously, read them first, you'll thank me later.









This is the story of Jamea Potter and his parents 16 years after we left you last. Jamea is no longer an innocent baby. In fact he is far from it. Ask anybody.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
Katherine, Harry and Jamea sat around the kitchen table. Jamea was looking half asleep, his hair tousled a little more than usual and there were bags under his eyes. Katherine was reading the paper and Harry was pleasantly humming his favorite song. An onlooker would see a perfect family. A friend would know better than that.
"Can I dye my hair?" Jamea said suddenly.
"Why?" His mother asked.
"Because, I want a change."
"What color?" Harry asked.
"I dunno."
"Well you'll have to give us more than that." Harry said and began reading the paper over Kat's shoulder. Kat smirked and hit him with the paper.

"Get your own!" She said.

"Fine." Harry said and slumped in his chair. "Well I'm off to work anyway." He kissed Kat on the cheek and ruffled his son's hair before dissapparating.

"I wish he wouldn't do that." Jamea said. "It makes me feel like I'm four."

"I wish you were four." Katherine said simply.

"Yeah, but I'm 16 instead so deal." Jamea said and stood up. "I'm going out."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet."

"Be home before 12, okay? I don't want you breaking your curfew again."
"Whatever." And Jamea left with the slam of the door.

Katherine shook her head in her hands. "If he ends up behind bars we're to blame." She told her palms.

~* ~* ~* ~*

"What can I do for you?" Said a man as he showed Jamea into a chair at the barbershop.

"You can take an inch off and- give it a new color." He grinned, picturing the look on his uptight parent's faces.

"What color?"

"That." Jamea said and pointed to a maroon red. "That's perfect."

"Sure?"

"Oh yeah."

"You're parents wont like it."

"My parents aren't paying for this haircut." Jamea said with triumph.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

"Katherine." Harry was chopping up onions when his wife walked into the kitchen.

"Harry."

"What's new? How was work?"

"Boring. How about you?"

"Got finished early. I thought I'd make something nice for dinner to waste time."

"You're so cute."

"Thank you." He turned towards her, a little grin on his face and pulled her into a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." They kissed again.

Jamea walked in. He took one look at his parents and said flatly, "Get a room," and walked out.

They pulled out of their kiss and stared at the place where their son had been. Then they looked at each other. Katherine mouthed 'red' and Harry nodded and mouthed 'red hair.'

"JAMEA!" They screamed in unison. With a smirk identical to Harry's when he was up to no good.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR- your-"

"HAIR?" Harry finished.

Jamea grinned bigger and slumped into a leather-padded chair. "I thought you would never ask!" He said, proud of himself.

"Well?" Harry said, perplexed. "Did you even think to ask us?"

"Not really. It's my own damn hair."

"Please watch your language!" Kat said loudly. "While you are under this roof-"

Jamea continued, mocking her voice with a screeching substitute, "You will abide my rules! When I say jump you say 'how high.'"

"Go to your room!" Harry said.

"We'll think of a punishment later!" Katherine said.

"You guys are such fascists! God, I wish I didn't have parents!" He humphed and walked up the stairs.

Harry, stood up, outraged and ready to smack some sense into him but Kat grabbed his arm and said, "No, Harry! He doesn't know what he's saying."

"You're right." Harry said down heavily and shook his head. "Where did we go wrong?"

"We didn't go wrong. He's exactly like us."

"We never betrayed our parents trust!"

"We never had any parents to betray trust to!" Katherine hissed.

"He is like us. Sneaking out at night and so on." Harry said eventually.

"I knew you'd see it like I do. But I wish he would talk to us, we haven't been BAD parents, have we?"

"What do we look to, to compare ourselves to?" Harry pointed out. "If you're going by the way I was raised, he's a king and compared to how you were raised he's got life more than easy. And if we look at Ron and Hermione, their kid is only 4 so we don't know."

"This is so confusing. He was such a sweet baby too."

"Yeah. So much potential."

Jamea narrowed his eyes at this point in the conversation and walked away from his vigil at the banister, thinking only one thing. * Failure. They don't even like me. * He finished climbing the stairs, this last conversation ringing in his ears. When he entered his room he sat down on the bed and looked at himself in the mirror. The red hair looked odd and slightly demonic in the dark bedroom. * So much potential *.

"Who cares what they think?" He lay back heavily on his bed, waiting for sleep to come.


~*

Late the next morning (it was a Saturday) the doorbell rang. Jamea skidded down from his room to get to it first to hopefully show off his new haircut to whoever was at the door. He opened it and his eyes widened.

"Hello Jamea." It was Dumbledore.

"H-hello sir. What brings you here?"

"I need to speak with your father."

"He's in the den I think." Jamea said, relieved that he wasn't getting in trouble. ((A/N: I had a teacher just show up at my house out of the blue last year I thought I was in for it for some reason))

Dumbledore swooshed past him, magnificent in dark blue robes. He found Harry in the office, asleep behind his newspaper. He cleared his throat and Harry awoke with a start.

"Hi Albus." Harry said, a little embarrassed.

"Hello Harry." He said with a grin. "Are you aware that your son's hair is red?"

"Yes." Harry said and groaned.

"You let him dye it that color?"

"No, but there isn't much we can do about it now." Harry said.

"You must mad at him."

"Not to much anymore. It's like he screamed at us last night, it's his own damn hair."

"Screamed?"

"Oh yes, he's quite grounded."
Dumbledore smiled now. "It looks like you've finally gotten this parent thing down."

"I certainly hope so. But you didn't come down here to talk about Jamea." Harry said.

"You're right."

"So…?"

"I was wondering last night if you have checked the grave lately."

"What grave?"

"Voldemort's."

"No, not for a while. I'm pretty sure he's dead."

"We can never know, Harry."

"I'll check it if it makes you fell any better."

"It would. I would myself, but you never told me where he was buried."

"I thought I did-"

"No, no. Don't tell me now. If I know, somebody else will in a matter of hours and then some idiot will dig him up and well-"

"I'll check it." Harry said firmly.

"Good I'm glad. How is Katherine?"

"Sleeping at the moment, but she's fine. She's more steamed at Jamea than I am, but she'll get over it in time, I suspect."

"Ah. I'm sure she will. So what will you do after that?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he does something worse?"

"Oh. Well, hmm. I'm not too sure. Hopefully he won't do anything worse."

"Good to look at the upside, too." Dumbledore said calmly. "Now you'll have no problem spotting him in a crowd."

~*

"I'm leaving!" Harry called the next day.

"Where?" Katherine said and walked into the entrance hall. "It's a Sunday, you don't have to work on Sundays."

"I have to do something outside of work."

"Like what?" Katherine didn't notice Jamea at the top of the stair listening in.

~* I have to check the grave. ~*

~* What grave? ~*

~* HIS grave. Voldemort's. ~*

"Oh!" she said breathlessly. "You haven't done that for- jeez- 7 years!"

"Yeah now you understand. I'll be back home for dinner. It's your night to cook."

"I know." She groaned and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye!"

"Bye Kat. Bye Jamea." And he disapparated.

"How did you do that?" Jamea wondered, walking down the stairs.

"Do what?" Katherine said smiled at him.

"I dunno. It just seemed by the look on your faces that there was more going on than just staring."

"Oh. Well-" Kat faltered. They hadn't told Jamea about their telepathy. They figured he was better off not knowing it all. Better off not knowing that he was going to be used for pure evil when he was an infant, better off not knowing that his parents had un-natural powers (other than normal sorcery), that they were the heir's to two very powerful sorcerers. All Jamea knew was Harry's original story and that he had finished off Voldemort in his seventh year, with Kat by his side. He knew that he was alive at the time, but he didn't know that he was born in a cave in Wales or that Voldemort had captured his parents for a year.

It had almost been impossible to keep the truth from him as he was growing up, too. By the time that Jamea could read, the story had died down considerably, but sometimes in public people would call them by their heir's names "Cyrena" or "Merlin" and then They would have to make up some story to write it off with him. Dumbledore disagreed with their choice to not tell him at first, but once they had really gone into detail about the situation Dumbledore decided that it was for the best. He had told the teachers to tell about the heirs, everything- except their names and when they lived.

"Your father and I are just on the same wave length." Katherine finished.

"Yeah." Jamea said and rolled his eyes. "You two are weird."

"And look what we created!" Katherine said and ruffled Jamea's hair to his obvious displeasure.