THE HIDDEN HEIR

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, places, spells, etc. are property of JK Rowling

Chapter 4: It Is Time

Lily felt her face grow hot and knew she was probably blushing. She didn't know who this mysterious boy was – he certainly looked like Potter from the back and if anyone other than Dumbledore had told her it wasn't Potter, she would have thought they were messing with her – but he surely thought she was an idiot. For a moment, she found herself wishing she could simply disappear.

But that obviously wasn't an option, so she forced herself to laugh good-naturedly, trying to brush off the incident.

The boy and his two companions were silent, but Lily was observant enough to notice the bushy-haired girl glance at the Potter look-alike out of the corner of her eye, as if attempting to silently communicate with him.

Yes, Lily had really made a fool out of herself. She could hardly blame the other three teenagers – were they students? – if they were making fun of her.

Sighing, she took several steps forward and cautiously seated herself next to the boy with messy black hair. Lily glanced up at Dumbledore, expecting him to break the silence and introduce them – Lily still didn't understand why they were here in the first place – but the Headmaster was glancing over a slip of parchment he was holding.

"Sorry about that," she began, crossing her legs and then smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. "You just looked like a fri-" No, not friend. Definitely not friend. "…classmate of mine, that's all. He's the Head Boy this year, actually. He's supposed to be here."

Lily would never understand why Professor Dumbledore made James Potter Head Boy. And, no, apparently he wasn't capable of showing up on time for anything.

Then Lily looked over at the boy, who appeared as if he was about to say something, but paled again as she noticed his features. He didn't just look like Potter from the back; he could be Potter's younger brother. He did look slightly different from Potter – although Lily couldn't put her finger on the differences, nor did she particularly care to – but overall the resemblance was uncanny.

Suddenly Lily knew that the boy in front of her had something to do with Professor Dumbledore requesting to see her and Potter in his office; it was too strange.

XXX

Harry had felt his mouth go dry as soon as Lily had entered the room. He knew he had to try to act normal – after all, it was imperative that she didn't find out that she wasn't his mother until the time was right – but the situation was anything but normal. He couldn't recall ever being this nervous or ever wanting someone to approve of him so badly; nor had he ever been so excited.

He tried to be discreet about it, but he stared at her somewhat hungrily… trying to take in every detail. This was his mother; this was the woman who had selflessly sacrificed herself for him. He'd longed to meet her for so long, but never thought he would actually have the chance.

Lily didn't look much different than she did in the photographs Hagrid had included in the scrapbook; Harry was reminded, again, of how young his parents had been when they were murdered. And her voice… it was the first time Harry had heard Lily talking normally, rather than begging for her baby's life.

He was so overwhelmed by the fact that his mother was sitting next to him – talking and breathing – that he barely registered what she was saying to him. When she finally looked over at him, clearly expecting a reply of some sort, Harry noticed that he did have his mother's eyes.

But now she was starting to stare at him somewhat strangely, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very shy and awkward. He wanted to say something witty and thoughtful, something that would impress her and make her like him, but instead he fumbled for words.

"I… uh…"

If only he knew what she had been talking about!

"… I'm Harry. Harry Figg."

Lily looked at Harry as if he had three heads, and Harry got the impression that he'd said the wrong thing. To Lily's credit, however, she didn't comment on Harry's complete disregard of what she'd said to him.

"I'm Lily. Head Girl. Are you three new here?"

Hermione came to Harry's rescue, speaking before he had to. "Um, sort of. I'm Hermione Granger, and that's" – she jerked her head toward Ron, who was wearing a look of mild amusement. At least someone thought Harry's dumbstruck moment had been entertaining. – "Ron Williams."

Ron shot Hermione an incredulous look – Wiliams, really? – but nodded at Lily. "Pleasure."

Professor Dumbledore – who, of course, had not really been merely reading a slip of parchment throughout the exchange – smiled warmly at the four students in front of him as he gently folded the parchment and placed it in one of the desk drawers.

"As you can tell, Miss Evans," he spoke up calmly, "We have much explaining to do once Mr. Potter arrives… ah, and I believe he is coming now!"

XXX

James stood outside the gargoyle, realizing no one had told him the password. He usually enjoyed rattling off every Wizard and Muggle candy he knew – really, Dumbledore's passwords, or the nature of his passwords, were so predictable that it was like a game to the Marauders – but today he wasn't in the mood to mess around. He was sure Lily had already arrived, for one, and he didn't need to give her any extra reason to hate him.

"Bloodpops," he half-heartedly said to the gargoyle.

The gargoyle didn't move.

"Chocolate frogs."

Still no response. James tapped his foot impatiently.

"Pumpkin pastries."

Nothing.

Frustrated, James wracked a hand through his hair and glared at the gargoyle. "Oh, bloody hell! Move!"

Instantly, the gargoyle bowed – something James had never seen it do, and he'd been to Dumbledore's office countless times – and slid aside, making room for James.

Shocked, James stood there for several moments, just staring, before slowly stepping forward and allowing himself to be taken to the Headmaster's office.

Had the gargoyle actually listened to him?

Or maybe, James thought, this is Dumbledore's idea of a brilliant password. That must be it. All you have to do is tell the gargoyle to move… so simple, but bloody genius.

Yet, no matter how much James tried to convince himself that that was true, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was weird. Very weird.

First the dream, then the Sorting Hat's song, and now Dumbledore's gargoyle… he was really losing it. Hanging with Sirius had finally made him go absolutely bonkers. It was his own fault, really.

As the gargoyle finished its descent and came to a complete stop, James took a deep breath – if anything else weird happened, he was going to be coming to Dumbledore's office for something other than Head duties - stepped forward, and entered the familiar antechamber which led to the Headmaster's office. Voices could faintly be heard coming from the other room and James knew that he had still managed to show up late, which meant Evans was going to be annoyed with him. Just swell.

At least that would be normal.

Just as James had extended one arm to open the door, the door swung open and James found Albus Dumbledore beaming at him from the other side, his wand arm extended. James felt himself relax; Dumbledore must have managed to charm the gargoyle to let James enter without a password, just as he had opened the doors for him. The Headmaster had, after all, obviously known James was there.

"Ah, Mr. Potter! Do come in and have a seat. We have quite a unique situation to discuss."

"Sorry I'm late, Professor, Evans. I-" As James stepped into the office and prepared to sit in a chair next to Lily, his eyes found the three other students - particularly Harry, who he couldn't help but gape at. "…. whoa."

"We finally agree on something," Lily deadpanned, briefly glancing from Harry to James. The similarities were even more striking when both boys were in the same room. Focusing her gaze entirely on James, she added, "But it's rude to stare, Potter. They're new students here. Be nice."

"I wouldn't - "

"You two are more than welcome to continue this engaging argument after we're done here," Professor Dumbledore interrupted with a twinkle in his eye. "But for now, there are more pressing issues to deal with. As both of you already know, we have three new students this year. Their names are Harry Figg, Ron Williams, and Hermione Granger; they're all fifth-year Gryffindors," he nodded to each of the students as he spoke their names, since James wasn't in the room when they had all introduced themselves. "You three have already met our Head Girl, and this is our Head Boy - James Potter."

James and the three new students exchanged quick greetings, and James eyed his look-alike skeptically. He badly wanted to question Harry - who seemed to be staring at him just as much as James was staring - but knew Dumbledore hadn't finished his explanation yet.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione," the Headmaster continued, his voice slow and even. "Are very unique new students. They are from the future."

The room was utterly silent for several moments as Professor Dumbledore waited for James and Lily to process this shocking piece of information. The Head Boy and Girl turned to each other, similar expressions of bewilderment on each of their faces, before looking at Dumbledore.

"That's…" Lily's voice trailed off uncertainly and she glanced at Harry, Ron, and Hermione in disbelief. "… that's possible?"

"Incredibly rare," James supplied before anyone else could. "But anything is possible, I guess. But how? What year is it where you guys are - ?"

"That isn't important," Dumbledore interrupted sternly. "The future is very delicate. The important thing is for you two to make sure no one else discovers they are from the future, as the results could be disastrous. And yes, Mr. Potter-" he shot James a pointed look, and luckily James was too distracted to notice that Harry's head had snapped up at the name. "- I do mean no one else. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

He wouldn't tell Sirius, Remus, or Peter unless something particularly important came up… or unless they guessed. He wasn't going to lie to his friends.

Perhaps Dumbledore knew James well enough to know that there was a fairly decent chance of him telling his friends because kept his gaze on James for a moment longer before sighing. "Very well. Remember that."

"So what do we do?" Lily inquired. "Tell the other students that they've transferred from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?"

"Not Durmstrang," James made a face, defending the future Gryffindors. "That place is nothing but a Death Eater haven."

"And Beauxbatons is a sissy school," Ron supplied, earning himself a glare from Hermione.

"We'll say the three of them are from a small boarding school in Ireland," Dumbledore explained, "and it recently closed down. The other students are going to various school across the world. They were sorted privately during my office after the opening feast and will resume classes as normal. Also," -this time his pointed look was directed at Harry, Ron, and Hermione- "Do remember that, as you three are new to this school, you will most likely need to ask for directions to get to your classes for the first few days."

"Of course, professor," Hermione and Ron echoed.

It took all Harry had to listen to Dumbledore instead of openly gape at his two, very much alive, parents. He wanted nothing more than to warn them about Pettigrew and beg them to keep Sirius as their Secret Keeper so he could grow up with them. James could play Quidditch with him and Lily could fuss over him like Mrs. Weasley fussed over all her kids. Harry could go home for the holidays and they would have a wonderful Christmas at Godric's Hollow, with Remus and Sirius. He could have friends over during the summer. He wouldn't even mind if they grounded him next time he rode to school in a flying car, sent him Howlers when he got into trouble at school, and nagged him about studying for the OWLs…

The James and Lily in the room with him, however, were seventeen. As much as he liked to fool himself, they weren't his parents. Not yet. Still, they were the closest thing he had right now.

But meddling with time was tricky and Harry still didn't know how all this was going to go. James would obviously have to find out eventually, but he had to be careful not to let Lily know - the last thing he needed was to prevent his parents from ever getting together in the first place. And he couldn't have the two people he looked up to more than anyone else thinking he was crazy.

"Harry?"

Too late for that.

Flushing, Harry's head jerked to Dumbledore. "Uh… yeah. I understand."

"Very well. I suppose all of you are free to go now, but do come to me if any problems arise."

XXX

"So…" James spoke up as soon as the five of them had stepped off the gargoyle. He hadn't thought it possible but the day had, indeed, gotten even weirder after going to Dumbledore's office. Time travelers?

"Potter," Lily rolled her eyes, beginning to lead the group in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. "Don't even think about it."

"What year are you all from? Is Voldemort still around?"

Lily sighed, turning around to face James, and Harry was proud that both of his parents seemed comfortable saying Voldemort's name. Ron and Hermione, however, flinched.

"You know we're not supposed to-"

"You can't say you don't want to know."

"Of course I do," Lily admitted, "but I understand how important it is not to ask them questions. Who knows what could end up happening?"

As James and Lily continued their debate, Ron leaned in close to Harry. "Something tells me your parents aren't together yet, mate," he whispered.

Hermione, who was on the other side of Harry, glared at Ron. "Ronald!" she hissed. "You can't say that! You're lucky they didn't overhear. You could ruin-"

"Overhear what?"

James, who had apparently finished talking with Lily, stopped and casually leaned against one of the walls, twisting his wand through the air absently and acting as if he owned the place. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked over at him in horror.

"I… we… were just…." Hermione fumbled for words, looking to Harry and Ron for support.

Harry was completely and utterly speechless. He wanted to talk to his parents so badly, but he always seemed to be incapable of conversation when one of them was around.

Ron, on the other hand, immediately came to Hermione's aid. "Well," he chuckled nervously. "Hermione was just - you know - talking about how nicely your robes fit. But she didn't want you to overhear because… you know…"

Hermione glared at Ron and gave him a look that clearly said he was an idiot.

James raised an eyebrow and slid his free hand into one of his robe pockets, sliding himself off the wall. "Yeah, nice try," he commented, sounding unconvinced. He and his friends knew all the tricks in the book when it came to making up stories - he was pretty sure he could tell when someone was lying.

"Really!" Ron insisted.

James shrugged, seemingly unconcerned as he changed the subject. "So, Harry…"

Harry felt his heartbeat speed up at the sound of his father addressing him. Hoping his voice wouldn't sound pathetic and squeaky, he swallowed. "Yes?"

"People are going to ask if we're related."

"Er… yeah, I suppose so," Harry commented after a few moments of silence. His mouth felt very dry and he found it difficult to maintain eye contact with his father. James intimidated Harry just as much as he fascinated him.

James appeared to be studying Harry.

"So... are we?" he pressed. Today had already been abnormal enough. It was time to at least get a few answers.

"Potter!"

Both Harry and James instantly turned at the sound of their last name. Harry, immediately recognizing his mistake, made a show of studying his shoelaces. Although he was fairly sure Lily hadn't noticed anything abnormal, he felt James' eyes on him and knew that it was very likely that his response to Lily's outburst had answered his father's question.

But Harry did look extraordinarily like James, plus the Marauders had the map. Maybe it was best this way...

Lily had walked ahead several paces before realizing that she was no longer being followed. "I thought you were too quiet. You're not supposed to be interrogating the students. Remember what Dumbledore said?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," James conceded, although he didn't sound as if he regretted his actions at all. "I'm done. Lead on."

Lily took a few moments to study James before apparently deciding that he was being truthful. Turning to the only other girl in the group, she asked Hermione which classes she was taking this year. Hermione shot Harry a reassuring look before taking several strides forward so that she was walking alongside Lily, and the two began to exchange stories - mostly about Charms, from the sound of it.

Harry, meanwhile, turned rather reluctantly to face James again. It wasn't that he didn't like his father - on the contrary, actually - but he couldn't quite figure out how he was supposed to act around him.

James bit his lip thoughtfully. "Your last name isn't Figg, is it?" he asked quietly so that Lily couldn't hear.

Harry shook his head as he walked alongside James. "No," he admitted, casting a side-glance at the other boy. "It isn't."

James nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with Harry's response. Of course his last name wasn't Figg; Harry looked way too much like him not to be a Potter. He took a deep breath, mentally reviewing everything that had happened that day.

First he'd had a strange dream about the founders of Hogwarts that seemed real, then Sorting Hat's lyrics mimicked part of his dream, then Dumbledore's gargoyle moved just because he ordered it to, then some future relative of his - his son? - arrived from the future. James couldn't trick himself into pretending like all of this was a coincidence anymore.

Something was going on… something big and something very abnormal. He didn't know what it was, or even how it was going to involve him, but everything was going to change this year.

He just hoped it was for the better.

The cauldron bubbled and spewed a nasty green concoction as a woman with dark hair bent over it cautiously and stirred clockwise three times. Another woman stood nearby, her wand extended, chanting.

Occasionally the woman with the wand would reference a thick volume that was written entirely in Runes, its pages yellow and crisp with age. A regal-looking man stood to the side, silently observing, his knuckles white as he clutched a tiny dagger with an emerald-encrusted hilt. The dark-haired woman and the other woman stopped what they were doing simultaneously; then the dark-haired woman slowly looked up, her face glowing in the heat of the candles that were arranged around the cauldron in a perfect circle.

"Godric," she spoke, her voice reverberating throughout the room. "It is time."