tried looking for james potter time travel fanfic, only thing i got was him traveling to the future with harry potter and/or his kids. its 2017, c'mon.


James found himself in a predicament.

Nothing big or too horrible, just that he was stuck in the past. Stuck in the god damn 60's, back before Hogwarts, Lily, Harry- everything.

He had been here for the past ten hours and had attempted to try to snap out of this daydream or magic, without a wand.

Time travel, itself, was real. The time turner existed, so the idea of time travel in the wizarding world wasn't a far cry from the truth.

It was more the fact he was in his nine year old body.

He nervously chewed at his fingernails as his eyes wandered over to the window, observing the scenary before him. Thoughts of Lily, Harry, Voldemort, the prophecy-

James anxiously shifted from his position on the windowsill.

He remembers dying.

He remembers the green light and from their, he remembers nothing, other than the fact that he died. Was this death? Was Lily and Harry safe? Did they escape while he was stalling for time? Did Dumbledore get their emergency floo?

Sighing, James ran a hand over his hair, disheveling it into a more tangled mess. It was the unruliest it's ever been. In the past- or, er, future, Lily had urged him to comb it down a bit and while it wasn't the neatest, it was definitely an improvement.

Fond memories entered his mind and he lightly smiled before the sinking feeling of worry anchore itself down in his chest once more.

Lily and Harry could possibly be on the run right now, being persecuted by the Dark Lord himself, and here he was, in his snitch patterened pajamas as a nine year old, stuck way in the past.

In the face of war, he always wanted to cry. Cry his feelings out and get drunk on some firewhiskey., but he never did. He held it back and powered through the feelings because he had his family besides him.

Today, he has no family and he doesn't have the heart to hold back his tears.

One minute he's thinking about Lily humming some song from a muggle radio while flipping pancakes on a pan without magic and the next, he feels his vision blurring. He sniffles and leans the side of his head against the window pane and attempted to steady his shaking emotions.

Force it down.

Lily laughing.

Forget about it.

Harry grabbing at his fingers.

Everything's going to be okay.

Lily's eyes twinkling with mirth as she urges James over to see Harry's attempts to stand.

He blinked. The tears left his eyes and flowed down his cheeks, leaving a tear -stained trail behind on his cheeks.

Scrubbing the tears harshly against the sleeves of his pajamas, he attempts to forget about it. It was nearing four o'clock (James strained to look at the clock with the moonlight as his only light source) and it was nearing morning.

James hopped off his windowsill and walked to his bed. He pulled his glasses off and set them down gently on the desk besides his bed.

He went deep underneath the warm covers and yet, he had never felt so cold in his life.


"Fleamont, do you think James is a bit.. off?" Euphemia Potter questioned her husband as her eyes flickered back and forth to the levitating dishes and self-cooking bacon from her son.

At her words, Fleamont teared his eyes away from his newspaper and glanced at his son, who was absentmindedly laid on the couch instead of eating breakfast like usual.

He's seen better days, that was a definite.

Normally, a very energetic James would be stuffing his face by now with bacon and cheese, while simultaneously making his father promise him to take him out to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Ah, he's just down," Fleamont waved his wife down. He's experienced these type of random mood swings, it wasn't unusual. "If he hasn't cheered up by the time I get home from work, I'll take him to the Quidditch Pitch. That ought to cheer him right up."

When Fleamont came back home, his son was still in a depressive state. So he did good on his promise, despite being tired from work, and took his son to the Quidditch Pitch.

Some good tossing around the Quaffle and James wasn't radiating exuberance like usual, but he definitely cheered up. Not to mention, he was doing moves that seemingly came out of nowhere. Fleamont watched, mouth agape, as he saw James doing a loop-de-loop and a swirl at neck-breaking speed.

He normally would've yelled at James for being so reckless, but he was too flabbergasted to react. He knew his son had natural talent at quidditch for his age, but to be this good? It was seemingly impossible for nine year old.

When James finished and was cooling down as he lazily wandered the skies, Fleamont questioned, "Where'd you learn that James?"

"Oh? The Knock Out Feint? In fifth yea-" James widened his eyes and instantly snapped his mouth shut.

He didn't pry or say something about his son's weird behavior. He only gave him a small pat, and encouraging smile. In response to these encouragements, he expected a slight huff and a remark about how he "wasn't a child anymore." Maybe even a small smile on those rare occasion.

What he didn't expect was a hug that just came at him.

With such strength, James pulled him towards him with a bone-crushing hug. Fleamomt almost lost his balance in surprise, but managed to regain it and hold James steady from their almost-toppling position. "Something the matter, James?"

"Nothing- just... missed you." His voice was a bit muffled against his clothes, but he heard him all the son. Strange, considering the longest he's been out this week for during the direction of his work.

But he said nothing as just enjoyed the hug that his son gave him. After all, hugs from his son who claimed to be an "adult" now, were few and rare.

His son was acting quite strange at the moment, but the next day, he'll be the old flamboyant James who called hugs "childish".


James never got his flair or fire back.

He had begun to shut himself in and instead of his usual prank gambits and childish antics, he started reading books in their library. His dad now often jokes that the once "headstrong Gryffindor" was now becoming a Ravenclaw.

In a span of one day, it seemed as if James did a completely one-eighty in terms of his personality. The books that he'd never usually read were sprawled all over the floor as James read through the bulk of them. Fleamont supposed it was a good thing that James had taken up reading, but it was disconcerting to know that James had locked himself up in the library and started isolating himself from the other kids.

The playmates assigned were once multitudinous and now, they were zero. James seemed to have no interest in playing with the other kids.

He rarely came out to eat either. Gone was the kid who stuffed himself and begged for seconds. Now, James came out, only when his mother forced him to eat.

Fleamont sighed at his thoughts and bit into his morning toast.

"More toast?"

He glanced up at his wife levitating a plate of french toast. "Sure. Did James eat any breakfast yet? I haven't seen him."

Euphemia's features turned into a frown. "No. He's holed up in the library. I'm planning on going upstairs to bring him some food to eat if he got hungry."

Sighing once more, Fleamont glanced at the clock.

"Need a raincheck with that toast, dear. I need to head to work. And tell him happy birthday for me."

He hoped his son would grow out of the shell he created.


James flipped through the last book of the pile for today.

It was tedious and mundane to go through so many books, but it was the only thing that made him feel like his Lily was still out there. He was reading the very books she enjoyed, the same authors she loved, the same titles she read. The one thing that Lily Potter loved to do the most was reading.

His finger traced the spidery words that etched itself onto the cover.

"Charms: The Theoretical View"

Lily was always good at charms.

He pushed away the thought and hastily finished the last of his book. When he reached the last page, he slammed the book shut, setting down the book besides him, stretching.

There should be breakfast on the table by now, he thought, checking the time. Sure enough, it was seven o'clock. His father usually left for work at this time.

He didn't go to eat a lot, half because he was busy reading and half because it left him uncomfortable to be seated with his once-dead parents. James definitely missed him, but seeing them was a so surreal, no matter how much into the past he was.

He got up from his seat on the library floors and quickly began putting the books back. Out of character for him, usually he'd magic it away or just leave it there, but he was wandless. He knew just how much Lily treasured her books and handled them with care, so he treated them with caution he'd expect Lily to have.

At the moment, he was hungry. So he went downstairs for some leftovers. What he didn't expect when going downstairs, was his mom to be standing in the doorway, holding a plateful of food.

"James? I was just going to come up," His mother said, surprised. She stepped away from the doorframe, allowing James to move downstairs into the hallways.

His heart went out for his mom. She had seemed to diligently went out of her way to make sure he had eaten. He was miffed at how much she seemed to care, but this was his mom. Guilt and shame filled his stomach when he thought back to how much he avoided her and his father. Perhaps, he'll actually start coming to meals now.

"I was hungry," He said, giving her the brightest smile he could muster. It fell a bit short on his usual bright ones, but it was enough to comfort his mother, who instantly beamed.

She grasped at his wrist and pulled him over to the bustling kitchen, as dishes were levitating as they washed themselves.

Seated on his old seat, the seat five year old him had proclaimed as his own, he was met with a plate of food. He digged into it, happily eating the familiar tasting food. Delicious as he once remembered it to be.

Though, it was a lot on one plate for a nine year old.

"Your father wished you a happy birthday, He wasn't able to say that to you in person, since you weren't at breakfast in the morning. He did get you that new broomstick you've been eyeing last month. We're going to have a party at tweleve, so the kids aren't h-"

James almost choked on a piece of toast.

"It's my birthday?"

Dates seemed to have fell short ever since he had arrived to the past.

His mother looked taken aback."Yes, James. How could you forget? You're usually so excited about how much closer to Hogwarts you are. It's one more year until Hogwarts. You're usually leaping in joy, by now."

"Right."

James took a bite out of his toast.