Harry James Potter sat at his desk tiredly holding his face and using his index fingers to massage his throbbing temples. He hadn't felt a migraine like this since the defeat of Voldemort. Thank Merlin his scar did not even have a trickle of irritation. All was calm for now, no more dark lords to defeat.

Just frustratingly rebellious children he had no reign over, one rascal in particular. It was days like these where Harry regretted naming his children after people he admired. Not when they took so much from their namesake. James Sirius Potter was the amalgamation of two of the most mischievous pranksters to grace Hogwarts' walls and he, much to his father's dismay, embodied both of their devilish streaks. The two men's spirits, Sirius and James, in one 12 year old boy's body meant a volatile combination of disobedience and impulsiveness. Harry sighed and took his crooked glasses off to rub away at his tired eyes.

How he wished his ex-wife, Ginny, had not gotten custody of their eldest. She traveled the world as a senior Quidditch correspondent, dragging their son around on her escapades like a gypsy nomad. Their son should have had more structure, stability with rules and responsibilities. Harry heaved another sigh, wondering if he could become a muggle fisherman with a stress-free life of catching his livelihood and wading through sandy shores as a retirement plan. He felt so old, tired, drained. Empty.

After Voldemort, the world was so much more inviting. He was a king who conquered the fiendish dragon and saved the villagers from burning alive. Now Harry felt like he was burning alive. With anger deep in his soul, fury at the circumstances which prevented him from raising his firstborn, rage at said son for being a fool and getting expelled.

Expelled. From Hogwarts. Yes, Harry had nearly lost it when he got the letter from Ginny. She said James wasn't the type to be tied down to a strict lifestyle and she would hire tutors so he got worldly experience. Tai Chi from a Chinese monk, French from a Veela Fleur knew, even a full muggle education in New Zealand that would be intertwined with his magical curriculum. Such full, heavy promises.

Harry knew that Ginny was just covering up her failures. She wasn't a mother like Molly; she loved but took the experiences of being the youngest child of seven and actively chose not to nurture. Ginny felt it was smothering, suffocating, coddling. Harry thought back to James, focusing on ignoring the bitter bite of heartache that always accompanied thoughts of his ex-wife and their too-short romance. Ginny had written nothing about the incident resulting in expulsion so Harry had contacted Ron who said Hermione was being tight-lipped about it. The redhead chose not to pry or push, knowing his pregnant wife would lash out. He preferred not interfering with his little sister's business anyway, or at least that's what his excuse was.

Harry contacted Neville, knowing Minerva was likely too busy with the Board of Governors. The story goes that James had been dreadfully curious. He had heard all the glories of his family's triumph over the years and chose to go see the Chamber of Secrets. Harry was absolutely mad with outrage when he learned they never sealed it off. Almost as mad as when he realized James had pocketed the Marauder's Map out of his desk drawer when he came to visit last month.

Anyway, so James had heard his godfather, Uncle Ron, storytelling the final battle and ripping out the tooth of a basilisk's decaying skull to slaughter Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, what they thought was the last horcrux, for bedtime tales. Ripped a tooth out of a 30-something foot poisonous snake, just like his father did when he was the same age and year James happened to be. Neville said that's what inspired the shenanigans. The rugged Herbology teacher also told Harry to pass on a scolding. Why Ron thought life-threating situations were good slumber tales, Harry did not even bother. James eventually snuck away one night using the map, armed with the knowledge of years of Ron boasting about copying his dad's Parseltongue, and stole a fang. It wasn't a very big fang, with most of it chipped away and quite brittle.

But it was enough to do damage.

And so it did.

James had taken the tooth back to his dorms to show the mates and Scorpius snatched it close to see if it was a fake. Harry had paused Neville's retelling at the time to mention that Draco's son seemed to be history repeating itself with his mannerisms. Neville had quietly chuckled it off, mentioning that Draco would have never been dating a Weasley, so history seemed to be long gone enough.

Regarding Scorpius, the tooth had actually grazed his palm when Teddy had taken it away from both of them, being the proper Prefect. In the end, it resulted in Madam Pomfrey's finest work since the Battle of Hogwarts, a vial of Fawkes' tears from Dumbledore's funeral, and the Board of Governors' demanding an expulsion for the causation of such a dreadful artifact being in a child's reach. Harry had mentally scoffed at that, feeling indignant at the irony. Lucius was the reason the basilisk was ever released. James knew better though, Harry wished, considering he tried to teach as many values and lessons in his once-a-month visits.

It wasn't enough.

In the end, Draco did not press charges, largely due to the life debt he had with Harry, and McGonagall had to expel James for a severe disregard of school rules and lack of consideration for the safety of himself and others. Harry couldn't agree more. Though he wished he didn't. How Harry James Potter felt like a failure for his other two children he raised being perfect in every sense and a stifling, nauseating guilt for believing his eldest was not.

Ginny was relatively unconcerned, if her letter was anything to go off of. And that's all he had currently, as she was in Cambodia right now writing about the comeback of Swivenhodge, which was rather like Quidditch mixed with muggle tennis.

Harry decided to stop wallowing in doubt, guilt, regret, and despair. All the talk of should-haves and could-haves made his stomach bubble with dread and anxiety. It had been quite some time since he had thought of his father and godfather, but now when Harry closed his eyes, he could imagine Sirius falling into the veil as if it were painted onto his eyelids. He tried to push those buried feelings back down as he did so many years ago. He remembered after Sirius fell when Luna said her mo-Luna. What had become of Luna?

Luna Lovegood became a nagging thought. Those two words, a simple name in a sea of thousands on the British Isles seem to drown him. That name permeated his every thought, from when he got ready for work in the morning to when he ate dinner at night. Shoes. Pudding. Anything and everything.

Harry went to work and did his routine, filling out forms and politely talking to bland ministry workers or getting statements from witnesses on various cases. And one night as he lay in bed, sleep so attainably close he felt like he was floating on clouds of warmth, a soft voice rang in his head.

A thought.

A memory.

"My mum always said the things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end…if not always in the way we expect."

And so Harry thought about it. That ethereal, wispy voice guiding him to peace of mind.

James Sirius Potter was his own person, but he carried a bit of both James and Sirius. They were not to blame for his misgivings, James Sirius Potter was. And those misgivings made him who he was. Just like Ginny was someone who yearned for a family to settle down with, but after experiencing it realized she wanted exactly the opposite.

Harry found an understanding deep in his soul at the wonderful son he was given, one he helped make. James was fiery, curious, inquisitive, courageous, adventurous, lively, and so much more. He had a thirst for life and experiences that Auror Potter had forgotten experiencing, but Harry Potter remembered rushing up his wand arm when he felt his first magic in Diagon Alley so many years ago when he was at Ollivander's.

James and Sirius came back, in a way not expected, through traits that he found so admirable. They did not seem so admirable now, but he expected Lily and Severus felt the same while dealing with the 12 year old Marauders. Harry knew James would be great, as they all were. An adventurer leaving no branch on the tree of knowledge unclimbed, an explorer of the lost lands breaking cultural barriers and soaring the skies, and one day a wonderful father, son, and brother with a thirst for life no one could quell.

All that was left was for Auror Potter to find Luna Lovegood to thank her for seeing him as "Just Harry" and knowing what to say when he didn't need her to say it.

And so Harry Potter set out to do what he did best. Investigate.