The oldest lives.
Memory lane nr. One
AN: one bit of explanation: when you're in the memory, the actual happenings in James' life will be in italics. Anything Harry thinks or says, or anything concerning Harry at all during the scene, will just be in normal letters. Thanks, hope you enjoy!
"I think it's time Remus and I gave this to you Harry," Sirius said, holding a gold locket. "It was your father's."
"What?" Harry took the item from Sirius' hand, and immediately felt a strong power flowing through his body, starting with his fingers. He was a bit confused.
"Your father made this," Remus explained. "It tells the story of his life... well, not quite—"
"It tells the story of the love of his life." Sirius corrected Remus, smiling at the man—truth be told, it told a bit about the love of their lives too.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, honestly confused.
'The love of his life? About my mother and my dad?'
"Just go see for yourself," Sirius smiled at him, ruffling his hair as he kept on giving Sirius the obvious you're-talking-riddles-man look. "It works like a Pensieve," he explained. "Just... your dad edited a bit, and it tells his story like..."
"Like a movie—except that he didn't cut any pieces out, just mend them nicely together." Remus continued.
Sirius nodded, and gave Harry an encouraging smile.
"Go on then—try it. You want to know, right?"
Harry nodded, and then made a switch inside his head. He wanted to know what they meant—wanted to see for himself, how brilliant his father had been. And he was really interested about his father's life. So he carefully opened the locket. The room evolved immediately. Harry felt like he was falling—but he stayed perfectly still. It felt like floating through thin air, and in two seconds flat he was sitting in a comfortable chair. There was a young version of James standing in the corner of a spacious room. Well... spacious. It had no walls—everything was just white. Except for the chair—the chair was red with silver.
"Hello to you! Welcome to James Potter's memory lane. If you're in this it means you're Sirius Black or Remus Lupin, or that I'm death—both are possible," James grinned wildly, and even though he was looking right at Harry, he had the idea that his father couldn't really, really see him. "My genius mind decided to make this very easy on you, so you have two options—we can watch my life chapter by chapter, or all at once. During the story, you can quit watching, just by saying that you want to stop—we'll halt, and you will be able to save your watching data. So, please, how would you like to watch my life?"
Harry blinked. His father was seriously standing there. He had a weird vest on—one of those white ones, that made him look like a doctor. His eyes were behind thick frames—not much different from Harry's—and though he had a nice, tidy look about him, his hair was a complete mess.
"Erm..." Harry stared. He wondered if he would be able to touch him.
"Any questions?" James asked, obviously noting the doubt.
"Can I touch you?" Harry blunted out, and James' smile grew.
"I'm very sorry sir—I am but a mere fragment of James Potter—quite inanimate, I'm afraid. See me as a memory—you can walk around in those too, but if you try to touch us, you'll go right through."
"Oh... okay... I'll guess I'll just watch the story chapter to chapter then?" Harry smiled—even though he couldn't touch his dad, he was still right there. And it made him happier then he'd been before.
"Excellent choice," a sort of menu appeared out of thin air, circling around them, and doctor-James selected one of the windows. "Now don't be afraid—this might tickle a little."
And indeed it did—Harry got an odd feeling in his belly, and it seemed as if he and his chair dropped down into orbit—but they didn't. They ended up in a dungeon. Nothing happened.
"This will be easier on you if you don't sit down sir," the memory-James said—Harry noted he was wearing a different attire: black jeans and a green sweater—and Harry's chair disappeared. Harry didn't fall down though, which he found quite weird. "If you're in need of the chair again, or want a rest, tell me and I'll give you back your seat, or halt the scene."
Harry nodded.
"A little explanation—the story starts in my first year at Hogwarts," Harry frowned at this—shouldn't it start with when he was born? But then he remembered what Sirius had said. It tells the story of the love of his life.
"So, let's begin, shall we? Enjoy." And all Harry could do was stare.
The class filled with people immediately—all first year Gryffindors and Slytherins. James and Sirius were the last to enter. James was only twelve, like Sirius, and they were both grinning, ties a bit out-of-place. James looked a lot like Harry had when he was in his first year at Hogwarts—but he had a different aura about him. And something bad-boy-ish. They sat down with Remus and Peter, on the row behind a redheaded girl and her friends. All the Slytherins were on the other side of the classroom—it was obvious that they didn't get along. Slughorn came from out of his office, smiling brightly at his new students.
"Ah! Hello, hello! And welcome to my class! I'm looking forward to—" there was a hard knock on the door, that had closed minutes before, and Slughorn paused, irritated. "Yes, come in."
The door opened, and in came a blonde. 'Malfoy? No, his hair's too long... Malfoy's dad!' Lucius bowed his head, but didn't comment as he placed himself next to Severus Snape.
"Ah, mister Malfoy—professor Dumbledore explained that you'd be late. Please, do try to come on time next lesson though." Slughorn smiled brightly. Lucius just nodded—and Harry couldn't help notice that his dad was staring at the blonde—instead of at the redhead, who'd he'd expected to draw all of James' attention.
The scene evolved, and memory-James was now also wearing a red scarf with the green pullover and black jeans, since they were outside.
"Slytherins suck." Sirius said, walking through the woods next to James and Remus—they were heading for herbology, but Peter wasn't there.
"You just hate them because your whole family was in Slytherin." James said, thumping his ribs playfully.
"Shouldn't you too? Didn't you say that earlier, Mister Potter?" Sirius asked wisely.
"Okay, most of them suck," James admitted. "But they don't all seem too bad. The Lucius guy looks kind of okay." Harry's eyes widened, and explanation-James just stared dreamily at himself—he had something Dumbledore-ish about him.
"Yeah, I know Lucius—he's okay, his parents aren't," Sirius said pensively, glancing over at Remus once, who didn't say anything. "They're really pure evil—worse than my mother, and that's saying a lot."
"Wauw," James said apprehensively. "Must be pretty shitty to be him."
"He'll live," Sirius grinned, and they reached the greenhouse. "I just hope we do—with all the creepy plants."
As Sirius entered the greenhouse, James whispered to Remus: "did he just refer to the plants as 'creepy'?"
And Remus nodded, laughing and shrugging his shoulders.
The scene passed again, and Harry had to admit his father had done a good job—he almost didn't even notice the interruptions any more, it was like flipping through the scenes in a movie. He was also very curious as to why his dad was being friendly about Lucius Malfoy.
The image had moved into the greenhouse, rather than out—they hadn't changed much, except for the plants, apparently.
"Good afternoon class," Professor Sprout greeted. They all stared at the rather ugly beings in front of them—weird plants with long petals, which looked rotten. They all had their dragon-skin gloves with them, and a crystal vial that professor Sprout had given them. "Today we'll be plucking the leafs of harmless hag-plants—don't forget to wear gloves though, they do tend to bite."
All the students set to work, carefully plucking off the leafs and then depositing them in the crystal jars. But it actually was a lot harder then it seemed—Harry watched as all the students struggled, the plants trying to gnaw viciously at their fingers—most of the students didn't even succeed in getting one plant de-leafed. Suddenly his dad yelped—his plant had bitten him just above his Dragon-skin gloves. He glared at the plant, shaking his hand in distress, blood gusting out in a steady flow. Sirius hit the plant in its... well, face. Remus yelled at him not to, declaring it would only piss them off more, and the raven-head proved Remus' point by falling to the floor, in serious combat with the plant that had attacked his best friend.
Professor Sprout beckoned James over to her, and he jumped over the body of his squirming friend, ducked when a guy swarmed his arm around, trying to get his plant off—it'd clawed his teeth in his robes—and jogged over to her, holding his hand. She sighed in distress, looking around. No one seemed to be doing a good job—even Remus, though that was only because he was trying to save Sirius' pity-ass live. Actually, the only one who was not running around like a fool, hiding from his plant or screaming for help, was Lucius Malfoy. He was petting his plant and carefully pulling out the leafs one by one. He was the only one smart enough to actually befriend the plant.
"Mister Malfoy!" Professor Sprout got his attention and his cold blue eyes fixated on her. "Guide Mister Potter to the infirmary, if you please."
Lucius nodded, giving his plant a last pet and walking over to James, as they left the greenhouse together. Harry quickly went after them, and this time it took no time whatsoever for the image to restore itself—Harry didn't even noticed, just followed them as they made their way to the castle.
"'m sorry you had to come with me—you seemed to be enjoying yourself." James grinned sheepishly at the boy next to him, and Lucius stared at him.
"Of course—because I just love plants and all that crap." His voice was sarcastic, and not much different from—Draco's.
"I don't think they're all that bad..." James doubted, trying to stop the blood with his sleeve.
"Not that bad?" Lucius asked cynical. "The thing nearly bit you arm off," he gestured James' wound with his head. "And might I remind you that you're a Gryffindor?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" James paused, but Lucius went on, seemingly not knowing—or not caring—that his conversation partner had stopped.
"You're a Gryffindor—only dumb-headed Huffelpuff's enjoy Herbology—they're that sort of people. If I were you I'd go back to being a DADA-lover, and soon." Lucius drawled out, glancing over once.
James was carefully trying to get the bleeding to stop—it hurt and his sleeve was dirty. He frowned seeming as nothing worked, and then said: "you're right—I do like DADA the most, but not all Gryffindors do. Lilly prefers Charms, and though Remus is best in DADA, he likes Potions a lot," Lucius grinned, walking back to where James was, and he roughly took his arm. James stared at the blonde's face, but didn't comment. Instead he said: "if we're being so stereotype, I'm guessing you like Potions best?"
Lucius didn't say anything for a minute, getting out a white handkerchief, and he carefully wrapped it around the wound. James' eyes widened for some reason.
"I like Potions, and I'm rather good at them too—but they're not my favourite," he continued walking again, ignoring James' stares. "I like Astronomy and Ancient Runes—if you tell anyone you die."
James blinked and jogged to catch up with him.
"You have to be the most out-of-place Slytherin that I've ever known." The raven-head muttered in awe.
Lucius laughed, but kept on walking, glancing over just once more.
"Coming from a Gryffindor, I'll take it as a compliment." And James smiled—Harry didn't get it. Lucius seemed not-too-bad. Then why did people always tell him James and Lucius hadn't gotten along well?
Madame Pomfrey was exactly the same as ever—bustling about and scolding at her patients. She told James to sit on the bed and not move—murmuring something about it being the first day of school, and James being a safety-hazard. It made Lucius laugh, as he waited with James.
"Thank you." James muttered suddenly.
Lucius was staring at the wall, and it appeared that he hadn't even heard James at all. Then he said: "No problem."
"Do you always make it a point to not watch the people who talk to you?" James asked—Harry thought his father was doing quite the opposite. He was literally staring at Lucius. He didn't get why. The man wasn't that special.
Lucius turned to the raven-head, quirking an eyebrow. But before he could reply James tilted his head, outstretched his good hand, and he was... kissing Draco's father? Harry's mouth dropped.
It didn't last long. None of the it-was-only-a-minute-but-seemed-to-take-ages. No. James put his lips to Lucius, realised what he was doing, and immediately pulled back, fiercely blushing.
"Oh God," he panted, and slumped down, shoulders shaking. He stared at his hand, handkerchief red. "I'm so sorry—I... did not mean to do that."
Lucius' eyes were stern when they searched for James' under that mop of deep black hair of his—but his bangs were covering them.
"Just make sure it doesn't happen again." He said coldly, and without another word, he left the room.
"Fuck." James swore silently, still looking at his hand. He noticed there was still a spot untouched by the blood—clear and pure. It was almost obscene.
And then... Harry flopped down in the chair as soon as they came back into the endless room. His heart was thumping faster then ever—his father. Kissing a boy. Yes, he was only twelve but... and...
"You kissed Lucius Malfoy!" Harry said accusingly to the information-James—he was wearing the weird doctor vest again.
"Yes I did." He smiled.
"But... you get a kid!" Harry protested.
James kept on smiling. After a long minute, in which Harry kept on ranting in his head, cursing Sirius and Remus to death for not telling him, James said: "would you like to watch another chapter?"
Harry freaked out—his head was close to exploding from all the rage he was keeping inside—but he couldn't take it out on this James—not on his own dad... his father had died, many years ago. And well, he had only been twelve. But Sirius, and Remus. They hadn't even told him!
"I'd like to go back and kill the people I thought were my family!" Harry yelled.
"Okay sire, thank you for watching. I hope to see you next time!" And before Harry could do something like blast his smiling father to pieces, James disappeared and he was looking at Sirius and Remus, who were still just sitting there.
Sirius opened his mouth, but Harry sprung from the sofa, and yelled: "I've been living with you for two bloody years, and now you let me know my dad kissed Lucius Malfoy? What the hell is wrong with you! YOU COULD'VE AT LEAST TOLD ME MY DAD MADE OUT WITH AN OTHER GUY! JESUS!"
And with the necklace in his hand, he spurted up the stairs, slamming the door to his room.
"Well," Remus huffed. "That went well."
"You think he's anti-gay, or just anti-gay-dad?" Sirius asked, in shock.
Remus frowned, hitting Sirius on the head.
"Let's just go check on him." He said, and got up.
Sirius followed suit—he really hoped Harry was just anti-gay-dad. Otherwise their news might come hard on Harry. Not that he wanted Harry to hate his dad but... well, Sirius had to be honest. Harry could easily hate Remus and Sirius for the rest of his life. James was dead. You can't possible hate a dead guy.
He heaved a deep sigh, and grabbed Remus' hand before going up to talk to the angry and upset teenager that was Harry James Potter.
AN: Jeezz. Another weird one... yeah, I know. Crazy4Moony's on crack. Review and I'll update!