Chapter Eight – Unfolding the Truth
Harry sat on the bed leaning against the wall as he flicked a Knut up and down. He was beginning to hate this thing called thinking. It took too much out of him. But he couldn't stop thinking about his meeting with Erica Welling.
The meeting hadn't lasted very long, and really, not much had been said. Somehow, though, Erica seemed very different to him, different than anyone else he had to talk to. She didn't care about right or wrong like he was usually reminded of. She didn't bother to remind him that he owed his life, more than once, to his parents. She didn't seem to look at him as some bratty kid who wasn't appreciating everything he had.
She just seemed to care.
Harry thought about his outburst. If he wasn't crazy, he was thinking that Erica had wanted him to do that. She had wanted him to lay it all out, and to be honest, it had felt really good. To let it go, yell out his feelings and not worry about a reaction. And her reaction? The way she just turned and sat back down at her desk…unbelievably, that was exactly what Harry needed. It made him feel normal somehow.
It was okay for him to be angry. It was okay for him to have selfish thoughts. It was okay for him to want to just be an average, normal, wizard boy of sixteen. It was okay for him to wish with all his heart that he had those he'd lost near him. It was okay for him to miss them.
It was okay for him to be, well, him.
He thought again of the events that had just occurred a few months ago. It seemed like such a nightmare, a fast-paced flash of a horrible dream. What he had failed to realize, and really appreciate, was that he did have people around him that cared.
Ron and Hermione? They were truly the best friends that anyone could ask for. He had the best of everything between the two and he knew that he was just as important to the both of them as they were to him. And it wasn't because of the scar on his forehead, or the pity they might feel for him.
Knowing Hermione, he chuckled, she'd yell at him for even thinking that she felt pity on him.
And Neville? Ginny? Luna? All the members of the D.A.? The Weasley's? They were all friends to him. They all believed in him and were behind him. Some of them were willing to risk their own lives to fight with him, beside him.
It was more than anyone at the age of sixteen could dream of asking for. And this thought brought upon Harry, a genuine smile of contentment; the first one in a very long time. He wasn't alone in this world. It was his fight and only his, but he has people willing to help him so he isn't alone.
When you face Voldemort, it's not fear of him or fear for your life that runs through your veins, its fear of a missed opportunity that pushes you forward. Erica's words still echoed in his mind. Voldemort had chosen Harry as a child, barely able to do much more than smile and laugh, and had marked him as his equal. He had marked him as the one that he would fight when the time would come.
Harry had lost so much because of this evil and corrupt man. Harry wondered what it was, exactly, that had led Tom Riddle to become what he was. That life could be so harsh for someone to give up all the beauty of love and happiness to rein a world in terror was unfathomable to Harry. It was sickening. It was sad.
There had to be more to the story than Harry knew. Obviously, Dumbledore hadn't told him everything before, was there still more? Was there more than what Dumbledore knew?
Why had Peter Pettigrew turned his back against his own friends? Why was living in honor of Voldemort more important to him than the lives of his friends? Granted, Harry had learned that his father wasn't the perfect person he'd imagined him to be, but he was still a friend. Harry could feel that much and knew it from the way that Sirius and Remus had talked of him. Loyalty and truth were two virtues that James Potter had held close and dear. What had gone wrong in the friendship? Were his parents even aware? Had they seen it coming?
Harry's thoughts wandered to his old professor. The pain that Remus had gone through was immeasurable. To have lost all three of your best mates at once? To have realized that one of them was a traitor…to live with the pain of loneliness for so many years…
And Sirius, Harry thought. Sirius Black was unlike no other. He was as pompous as James had been, but held a heart of gold inside. The Potter's were his family, his true family. And he fought to his last breath for them, Harry knew, and against his own blood.
Harry lay on his side. He curled up, hugging the pillow.
What did Petunia know? How much of this world and Harry's past did she really know about? Did she really care about him? What made her hide, then? What made her stow away her feelings and sprinkle out hatred for her sister? She couldn't really hate Harry or she wouldn't have agreed to take him in at all.
The more questions he thought of, the more questions that continued to appear. He was determined, however, to find the answers. This was his life they were playing with. All of them, from Voldemort to Dumbledore to everyone in between, they were all playing with his life. He deserved to know the answers to all of his questions. He wasn't too young anymore. He wasn't too young to fight against Voldemort, he wasn't too young to understand what the prophecy stated - he wasn't too young to know the truth.
Harry realized that all these thoughts were good ones to share with Erica. Maybe she could help direct him in the right direction to get his answers.
And, he decided, he was going to master occlumency. Voldemort was not going to be allowed the privilege of knowing his thoughts.
If Harry had to fight for the truth, then let the evil dark lord suffer as well.
Because Harry was going to win.
Albus Dumbledore smiled as Erica walked into his office. He looked up from his desk and set aside the papers he had been reading.
"Good day, Miss Welling," he waved his hand in front of him, offering her a seat.
"Good day, I do believe, Albus," Erica returned the smile. She sat down and readily accepted the offering of candy from the Headmaster. "How have things gone here this afternoon?"
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes answered her question, but he answered nonetheless. "I dare say, rather well. They've been talking together since this morning, wandering the grounds, both with smiles and laughter."
Erica grinned. "I'm so glad. You know, I'd be willing to expect that being with Remus will allow James to remember so much. I'm sure being with a friend will allow him to accept more, as well. Perhaps those things he doesn't want to remember."
"I agree. The last I heard the two had been heading towards the Gryffindor Tower."
"Many memories await James there," Erica was pleased with the day's events.
"And what else causes the smile on your face, my dear?" Dumbledore asked.
Erica laughed. "I think my meeting with Harry went very well. It wasn't quite what I expected, but…better. I wasn't expecting a break through our first meeting."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose with curiosity. "A break through?"
Erica nodded and told Dumbledore about the meeting. Without breaking Harry's privacy, she managed to tell Dumbledore enough so that he was not in the dark with Harry's progress. She'd never dream of breaking the relationship she so heartily worked for with her patients, but Erica felt that Dumbledore deserved to know that Harry at least seemed to be making an effort with her.
"I'm glad to hear that, Erica," Dumbledore nodded. "It's a very good sign that he was willing to trust you so quickly. The faster that he can come to terms with what he already knows, the sooner that his future can begin."
"About that, Sir," Erica cleared her throat. "I've been thinking since I talked with Harry, on what may be the best approach with the them meeting. I wanted to know how you felt about it."
"I believe that time will run its course."
"I agree, if I understand correctly," she nodded and sat back comfortably in the chair. "I have this feeling that James does remember Harry. My question is if he realizes that Harry survived that night or not. The mystery surrounding the night has only intensified with the discovery of James, of course. But I think that as soon as he remembers, it would be best for James to be able to choose."
"You think that he'll be rational enough to make such a decision?"
Erica sighed. "I'm not sure that rationality should be a question in any of this. We're dealing with two people's lives, Sir, with all due respect. Would a parent be able to be any sort of rational when not having seen their child in such a long time?"
"Again, it is another relative thought," Dumbledore squinted his eyes in thinking. "James will undoubtedly want to see Harry immediately."
"Then of course, there is the whole subject matter of Sirius Black," Erica reminded him.
"Yes. I've been thinking of that today. I've been wandering how Remus has handled the situation in its entirety. The subject of Sirius and Peter Pettigrew has undoubtedly come up at some point in their conversations."
"Any more time that we keep them apart is only a deed as evil as how much time has already passed between them. I think that if James has the whole picture and feels ready, then by no means should we stand in the way."
"My concern is more for Harry than for James," Dumbledore admitted. "I feel that James can handle the emotions that are sure to stir within. He's handling everything well so far, and he's always been of strong demeanor. Harry, on the other hand…"
"Will handle it just as well, I'm sure," Erica declared. "He's been through many traumas, no doubt, and to be quite honest with you, he's handled them far better than many wizards of my own age could. The resentment that he feels, the anger and the bitter emotions are all natural feelings, partially caused by the lack of parents. Emotions are not something to be played with by any means, but in regards to this situation-"
"It is not us who would be playing so much as...refereeing." Dumbledore finished her thoughts. "I agree."
"Sir, if I dare ask," Erica got a bit nervous. "Does James being alive make any difference in the prophecy?"
Dumbledore looked out his window in a daze before replying to her. He seemed to drift off into one of his thinking moods, a disposition that few ever saw him in.
"It is something that I've been concerned with myself," he finally spoke. "The prophecy spoke only of Voldemort and the one that he marks. It spoke of nothing in regards to support for either."
"I think that James is what Harry needs," she told him authoritively.
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course. It's just the timing, Erica, that worries me."
"I'm sorry, sir, could you elaborate on that?"
"Voldemort is back, and the Ministry has acknowledged it finally. Wizards of all kinds are scared. Our world is in uproar and the times of not knowing who to trust are upon us once again."
"Yes, sir," Erica cocked an eyebrow at him. "So wouldn't this be the best time for Harry to finally have something constant in his life? Someone to be near his side in the times that Harry needs a guide?"
"But, Erica, it's his father, whom he has no real memory of and has thought to be dead. The pressure is on Harry like it has never been before. Forgetting all of Rita Skeeter's attempts at convincing the public that Harry is crazy, our kind is ripped in two when it comes to thinking of him. Either they are on the sidelines cheering for him, willing him to finalize the blow against Voldemort, or they hate him and think of him as no more than a pause in the inevitable. Voldemort is back and will rein his terror on the world again. He stopped him once; can he stop him again?"
"You sound as though you have little faith," Erica prodded the old wizard.
"Faith," Dumbledore sighed. "I have faith that good will win over evil. What I fear is that I've belittled the faith out of someone else."
Erica gazed at the Headmaster for a few moments as he again watched out the window. A moment of fear ran down Erica's spine. If the greatest wizard that she knew was fearful and had lost something, what was she to think? What were the other wizards and witches of her time to think? Erica knew, because it had been the same in her days, that Dumbledore was a sort of hero to the children he taught. And for Harry to have not had a reliable father figure, Dumbledore must mean something great to him.
"Sir, may I ask…" Erica started.
"I fear that I have let him down. Out of fear myself, really," Dumbledore explained.
"Sir?"
"It is my fault, after all, Erica, that Harry never knew anything of the prophecy until recently. I took it as my responsibility to tell him, to keep him safe until the time came for him to enter school. I took it as my responsibility to be the safeguard of him, and I fear that in doing so, I came to care for him too much, too much in fact, that it may have ruined what is left of my part in this."
Erica blinked a couple times, attempting to understand. "Sir, may I ask, why did you take the responsibility? I understand that of those closest to James and Lily, the only survivor at the time was Remus Lupin, who was in no state to care for him, and again, I understand the ancient spell that has binded Harry's safety with Lily's sister, but…why did you take it upon yourself the added pressure and anxiety to ensure Harry's safety?"
Dumbledore smiled. "James Potter, and his friends, were special to me, as was Lily. James had a deep desire, far deeper than most could understand, to right the wrongs in this world. I'm not one to stand by, Erica, when action must be taken, I fear not in doing it, but rather it not being done. I knew many things and had the knowledge to carry on. I had to make the decisions, you see."
"Harry knows this, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
Erica smiled. "Well, isn't it ironic when the wizard that I admire the most in the world and feel is wise beyond all comprehension can show his weaknesses, too?"
Dumbledore gave Erica a small smile before continuing. "Erica, my fear in this situation is that Harry feels betrayed enough as it is, his reaction to finding his father fully alive may not be the sweet reunion we all hope for."
"I understand," Erica contemplated. "But the situation is going to arise soon, Sir. And we must be prepared for it. Both of them will need a friend."
"There is so much to prepare for," Dumbledore nodded.
"Once term starts…it's different from when I was in attendance to Hogwarts. It's much more known, now, who many of his followers are…"
"Yes, the Deputy Headmistress and I have gone over many changes that we will be discussing with the rest of the staff soon. It's a precarious situation that we are in now, however, I do feel-"
The sudden forceful entrance of James Potter into his office interrupted Albus Dumbledore. James wasted no time in knocking and had thrown the door open with such force that it inherited a small crack down the center from hitting the back wall. Erica jumped and stared at the man with wide eyes. Remus came running in, following James's wild entrance, short of breath from his chase of the currently livid man before them.
"James-"
"SHUT UP!" James yelled at the Headmaster. "How dare you act so calm around me for days! How dare you act as though there is no fear in the world and that what I have loss is in the past! How dare you not tell me vitally important things about my own life!"
"Prongs, listen to me-" Remus attempted at grabbing James's shoulder and pulling him away from Dumbledore's desk.
James shrugged Remus's hand away. "NO! He needs to hear this."
Dumbledore nodded. "I am to assume that you have remembered-"
"Never assume, Albus," James sneered. "It's not wise to think you know your enemy."
"James! Albus is not your enemy!" Erica yelled at him.
"No? You're right," James nodded with a manic laughter. "You wouldn't be either, would you? Because I do suppose that if I came face to face with Voldemort, or a Malfoy, or hell, even Snape, they'd relish in the idea of telling me that Lily died that night, the night that I supposedly did, but my son did not, and that he is in fact, at this very moment, alive and well, having fought the Lord of Darkness several times already."
There was silence in the room.
"James, we, as in Albus and I, came to a decision together medically that we were not going to tell you anything until you began remembering," Erica calmly tried to explain.
James scoffed at her before turning his attention to Dumbledore. "And you? You really thought that my finding out on my own was going to be the best way? You thought that as I remembered Harry and mourned the loss of him as well, that telling me later on he's still alive was the best way to go about this?"
"James, this is a sensitive subject," Dumbledore started.
"Damn right it is! This is my son! This is my family! This child came from Lily and me! This is all I have left and you felt it not important to tell me sooner!"
"Harry is in good hands, James," Remus told him.
James bit his lower lip and looked down to his shaking hands. His eyes felt moist and his voice lowered and softened. "He hasn't been in mine…"
"But we can change that now," Erica stood up and slowly approached James. "You're back now."
"DAMN IT!" James suddenly turned towards Dumbledore's desk and swept his hand across it. Statues and papers went flying as Erica jumped back from shock. Dumbledore remained seated, calmly watching James's hysteria. Remus clenched his fists as he closed his eyes and sighed.
"You are missing the point," James hissed at Erica. "Fine, it is my own fault for the spell not working correctly that night, and it's my own fault that Lily died and I lost my memory. It's my own fault that I've been living another life all this time while my son has been growing up in a world without a parent, but it is not my fault that…that…"
"James?" Erica tilted her head sideways and tried to look into his hazel eyes that were squinting from rage.
"He's been living with Sirius, right? That's why only Remus came today?" James looked between all three, waiting for an answer.
"James, there is more that I need to tell you," Remus started.
James started shaking his head. He started backing up, putting himself into a corner. "No. No. Sirius couldn't have…he…no. Then Remus should have taken him!" James cried. "Who has been raising my son? What happened to Sirius?"
Remus swallowed, "James-"
"Perhaps we should begin by telling you what happened that night, in our eyes," Dumbledore suggested.
James viciously eyed Dumbledore, wanting to blame someone, wanting to pin someone for the misery that he was feeling. He was elated that Harry was still alive, but the guilt that rose from the depths of his heart overcame his happiness.
"Come, sit," Erica ushered James. She sat back in her chair and pat the seat next to her. Remus nodded his head at James and took a seat himself. Reluctantly, James sat on the edge of the seat and looked at Dumbledore.
"Go on."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and began his tale. He told the same tale that up until a few days ago, everyone knew. The tale of the secret-keeper switch, the tale of Voldemort finding them, the tale of James and Lily bravely fighting for their son, and of course the outcome of that fight, as they found the house.
James wept a silent tear as Dumbledore told of the fight that ensued between Sirius and Peter on that muggle street. Remus could see the anger building up in James as he heard how Sirius was sent to Azkaban with no trial. And when he found that Harry was left to be raised by the Dursley's?
"WHAT? The Dursley's?" James exclaimed with a look of disgust and horror on his face.
Dumbledore nodded calmly. "James, it was the only thing that was safe to do. Ancient magic allowed me to cast a spell using Lily's love for Harry to have been safe with Petunia. As long as their home is his home, he'd be safe. And he had a chance to grow up not in the eyes of the Wizarding world."
"Merlin," James moaned. "Do you know how much Vernon loathed us? He despised the ground on which Lily and I walked on! Petunia? Bloody hell, Albus! Vernon brainwashed her into thinking that our kind were freaks. She refused to talk to Lily after their parents died…"
"I'm quite aware, James, of the unfortunate feelings the family has against our kind, however, they were the only blood relatives alive to take Harry."
"Was he…is he - I mean…how was his childhood? Is he okay? What kind of…what kind of person has he become? Merlin, I wish Remus could have had him."
"You know I couldn't have done that, James," Remus reminded him quietly. "I'm barely fit to be around anyone once a month; I couldn't have handled taking care of a small boy. The risks were too high."
"Don't they have a cure yet?" James asked, hopefully.
Remus smiled at his old friends optimism. "No, but there is a potion that helps."
"It's a start," James nodded. "What happened, with Harry, once he was ready to come here? Did they let him learn his magic as he was growing up? Merlin, the Dursley's…"
"Sadly, James, the Dursley's chose not to let Harry know that he was a wizard. In fact, I had to send Hagrid to get Harry before term started his first year. The Dursley's refused to accept that he was a wizard," Dumbledore explained.
"Good God," James exhaled breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Dumbledore went on, explaining what Harry had gone through his first year of school. He told him of his fitting in, his classes, Quidditch, Professor Quirrel, the Stone, his enemies and of course, his friends.
"Weasley? Weasley?" James chimed. "As in Bill Weasley? Arthur and Molly?"
"Yes, Ron and Ginny are their youngest," Remus explained.
"And who is this Hermione girl?" James was curious about Harry's friends.
"She's muggle born," Dumbledore told him. "Perhaps the smartest witch of their year."
James smiled. "Just like Lils." He took a deep breath, taking everything in as Dumbledore continued and told James of Harry's second year. " Okay, so far Harry has had to fight Voldemort in some way each year he's come to school! Tell me his third year was better, safer, something."
Remus cleared his throat. "Third year was an emotional one, James. I was here that year, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
James smiled. "A good subject for you. Did he know who you were?"
"He did. We talked a little. He, of course, asked me about you and Lily…" Remus had to take a deep breath. "I helped him learn to fight dementors while I was here."
"Dementors in third year? Isn't that a bit early?" James asked.
"Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, James," Dumbledore explained.
"What?" James looked thrilled. "He did! Has anyone ever done that before?" James slapped his knee and shook his head, "Damn it, Padfoot. If anyone…"
Dumbledore continued, his facial expressions not changing. "He managed to hold his own while in the prison by transforming into his animagus form; illegal animagus form, I might add." Dumbledore gave James a look.
James smiled. "Merlin. I haven't tried that yet."
Erica rolled her eyes. "You should register, James. It's against the law to be able to transform and not be on the list."
James shrugged. "The ministry doesn't even know I'm alive. Please continue, Albus. So is Harry with Sirius now? Is he cleared?"
Silence bestilled the room once again for a moment as the three story tellers glanced at one another.
"No, James, neither of those are true," Dumbledore finally answered. Before James could reply, he continued with the explanation, explaining the events of Harry's third year at Hogwarts.
"Peter's still alive?" James had a mixture of anger, resentment and disgust on his face.
Remus finished the story of the fateful night on which Sirius was saved and Harry, as well as Remus and Dumbledore, learned the truth of James and Lily's secret keeper.
"I don't understand," James shook his head. "Why didn't you all just go to the Minister of Magic and explain what happened? Sirius could be free and Harry could be living with him rather than the damn Dursley's!"
"It's not that simple, James," Dumbledore said. "It was Sirius's word against everyone else's. He was quite the manic on the night you and Lily died. The way he acted, the expression he wore when the Ministry arrived on the scene after he and Peter had fought – it was inevitable that he was found guilty. The Death Eater's didn't know who our traitor was either, and Sirius had a family history and a past that could have easily guided him to the dark side. He was a strong wizard as well. Redemption in the eyes of Voldemort for his brother's death, to be the final Black to live up to the family name, was a thought in the eyes of many. Imprisoning Sirius was a glory moment for Fudge; it helped him get the Minister position."
"Fudge?" James made a face. "As in Cornelius Fudge? He's the Minister of Magic? He's who put Sirius in Azkaban?"
"He's still Minister," Erica nodded.
"That daft wanker?" James almost growled. "So, where's Sirius at now?"
"Let us get through fourth year, first," Dumbledore went on. He explained how Harry was chosen to be in the Tri-Wizard tournament and the events that began happening in the world. As Dumbledore told the story of the final event and of Cedric's death, James's eyes began watering. His fists were clinched together so tightly that they were turning white as Dumbledore told him what Harry had seen, and what had happened.
"That…that…" James couldn't talk. "My son had to…had to witness this? My son!"
"James, if I might say so, Harry has handled everything that has been put before him with such a magnitude of ease and self assurance, you should be proud."
"I am," James said in a barely audible tone. "I am."
"Of course, once I learned of Voldemort's return, I called back the Order," Dumbledore assured James. "We rounded up the old members that were still alive and recruited new ones. We set to work, setting up headquarters at Grimmauld Place."
"The Black's residence?" James looked horrified at the thought of working in that drafty and dark place.
"Sirius offered it to us," Dumbledore nodded. "We started our work again, just as we had before, only this time, we had Harry to worry about. His scar, again, became a concern. More so than it was before Voldemort rose again."
James listened intently as Dumbledore told of the past year's events. He scoffed at Umbridge and what she did, again mumbling things about Fudge under his breath.
"Harry was learning Occulmacy, though, correct? I mean, obviously with this scar he has and the prophecy, he must be learning it?"
Dumbledore swallowed. "There was an issue in that. It's hard to learn, James, even for a powerful wizard such as your son. And with who was teaching him, I don't believe he was giving it his all at the time. And…he didn't know about the prophecy until recently."
"What?" James looked at his old Headmaster confused. "Why didn't he know? Who was teaching him? It is hard, why didn't you teach him?"
"I couldn't, James, be near him too much," Dumbledore's eyes twitched with regret and sorrow. "Not with Voldemort being too close to him. And Professor Snape was teaching him, who, as adult as he is about things now, he's still not forgotten the school grudge between-"
"SNAPE? You were letting Severus Snape teach my son? Why the hell would you do that?" James was outraged.
"He is very talented at Occulmacy, James; he's needed it to be our spy, both now and in the past. And it was easy to let others believe that Harry was simply going to Professor Snape's office to be tutored on Potions."
"Wait," James eyes narrowed. "Snape is a spy? What the hell do you mean? He was a damn Death Eater! And…why would Harry go to him for Potions tutoring? Why do you keep calling him Professor Snape?"
Remus gave a slight grin. "Severus has been a professor here for some time now, James. He teaches Potions, and he's the head of the Slytherin house."
"That's fitting," James scoffed.
"Severus has changed, James. He was a spy for us back then, as well, and is able to get us vital information. However, I dare say, the events that took place recently are to be blamed, at least partially, on myself."
"What? Why? What happened?"
With a crack in his voice, Dumbledore went on to tell of the night in the Ministry. Remus grew pale again, remembering his friend. The emotions were still raw, and seeing the look on James's face made them even more real again.
James's face fell. His best friend was gone. His son had witnessed it, felt the guilt of his death. His son…he'd come so close to having something of a family, a loving one. Sirius was gone. James had missed him. Sirius had died, twice in honor of James. The first time in accepting his fate of going to Azkaban, the second in honor of fighting for what they had believed in so many years ago, and fighting for Harry. Sirius may have not had custody of Harry like James had wanted, but he'd managed to protect him and give him so much.
"He's gone…" James breathed.
"He went valiantly, James," Remus whispered.
"And Harry?" James looked up at Dumbledore. "How is Harry taking it?"
Erica cleared her throat. "Roughly, James, as expected. He's learning to deal with it, though. He's seeing me now. His first session was today."
"What?" James turned to look at Erica. "You're 'seeing' him? Here I am, desperately trying to get my life back and at the same time, you are seeing my son? He doesn't need a shrink! He needs me!"
James leapt from his chair with a frenzied rush of energy. He looked frantic as he surveyed the room.
"I have to see him! I need to see him. He needs me. He's not alone, I'm here. I need him," James began pacing.
"James, we need to do this slowly and cautiously," Erica told him.
"Slowly and cautiously? Taking me to my son?" James glared at her. "I have every right to see him."
"No one is arguing that," Dumbledore stood. "But James, you must remember that Harry believes you dead. He's grown up thinking that both his father and mother are dead. It will not be easy to accept someone he does not know to be his father."
"He'll accept me," James cried hurriedly. "He has too. He'll know." James looked to Remus for reassurance.
"Prongs, you can't blame him if he doesn't at first," Remus told him.
"The lot of you are crazy!" James stomped his foot to the floor. "I want to see my son."
"Soon," Dumbledore guaranteed. "Let us get through some more of you memory, shall we?"
"Who cares about my fucking memory! My son is alive, I am alive, and I want to see him. NOW!" James cried, the tears forming in his eyes again. "I need to see him, damn it! I need to tell him…I need to tell him I love him…that I'm sorry…"
James fell to his knees and he buried his head in his hands. His sobs filled the room while the three remained motionless, none knowing really what to do.
"He knows you love him, James. It's your love and the love of Lily that has kept him going all these years," Dumbledore finally spoke.
Remus tried to smile. "He gallantly defends you and your self absorbed ways, James. He got worried once, after falling into one of Severus's memories. Remember the time after O.W.L.S, outside by the lake? He was worried that you were always like that, that you were that big of a mean prat…"
James swallowed as he looked up, his cheeks wet with burning tears.
"Sirius and I told him you were," Remus grinned. "But that wasn't all of you. And even with knowing that, he still sticks up for you. He still defends you. He's always felt the love of you and Lily in his heart."
"Why do you feel the need to apologize, James?" Erica asked him.
James's glare snapped back as he faced Erica. "For ruining his life. For the spell going wrong, for leaving him…for not being there…"
"Spell going wrong? What spell?" Dumbledore asked him.
Remus nodded. "Tell us about this spell that you and Lily were working on, James. Maybe it'll help us clear up that night. It will help us learn what did happen and how you survived."
"It doesn't matter!" James rose to his feet and yelled. "It doesn't matter because I lost everything that night when that spell went wrong! And for what? For nothing! Voldemort is back! And Harry has had to fight him! Alone! He's been alone because Lily and I thought…" His became drenched in sorrow as he spoke. "We thought…we thought that we could end it. We thought that we were bigger and better than fate…we put our child's life in the face of danger and thought we could win."
"James, it was Voldemort's decision to go after Harry and not Neville," Dumbledore reminded him. "He decided to go after Harry."
"No…we led him to us," James cried in anguish. "You don't understand! Lily and I knew that Peter was the traitor among us. We knew that when we decided to use him as our Secret Keeper, it was why we did. We knew that with Peter, Voldemort would choose Harry. He was a Potter, and using Peter, he'd find us. We were waiting for him, Albus."
Albus Dumbledore's eyes slanted in curiosity. "Please, go on, James."
James sighed as he continued with his story. "I convinced Lily that we could defeat him. After we learned of the prophecy, we decided that just in case, we would begin working on something. As time passed, we became over-confident. We studied ancient magic, and worked despairingly on coming up with a plan. After we learned that Peter had gone to the dark side, we realized our time was limited. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort would strike either us or the Longbottom's in fear of the prophecy. So we had to finish the plan…we hurried."
"What was the plan, James?"
James swallowed and looked out the window. It was dark out, with clouds hanging low.
"Lily and I both learned an ancient magic that would allow us to practically die against the Avada Kadavra curse. We were banking on that being the one Voldemort would use. It was simple and quick for him. He'd attempted it before, in our battles with him. The spell would do all of these biological things to our bodies that would make it appear that we were dead. Basically, it would just about let the curse work, only it had a deep charm on it that would halt the final blow."
"That's how you survived?" Remus whispered.
James nodded. "He broke down our front door. We weren't ready, not at that moment. We had been playing with Harry, trying to teach him things downstairs when he came. Lily grabbed Harry and ran upstairs. I fought him. So hard and so long. Our battle must have lasted a while; at least it felt like it. I yelled and screamed. We dueled. He cast it on me, just like I knew he would. I barely had time to react, to think of the spell. I could only think of Lily and Harry upstairs, not knowing what was going on.
"The problem with us not being ready was we didn't have a potion ready. Lily had found some old potion that would make us invisible, enabling us to fight him. We weren't sure if it would work against him, if he'd figure us out. And it had some terrible side affects, as well. We were still trying to work those out.
"The idea was for Lily to have taken the potion while I fought Voldemort. She'd be able to be there with Harry and fight secretly as we let Voldemort 'mark' Harry. The other potion we were working on, one so old and so difficult, we had yet to hardly be able to begin it; it was a deciphering potion of a sort. It was a potion that was supposed to reveal the darkness in wizards. It would, in our thoughts had we been able to do it right, reveal what it was that Harry would posses after Voldemort marked him."
"That sounds too unbelievably perfect to even be true," Erica exhaled a held breath.
"It was, these spells and potions were beyond difficult," James explained. "Had the plan been able to have gone right, the way we saw it was that by marking Harry as his equal, much like he did, Voldemort would lose something and pass it to Harry. We were banking on the thought that Voldemort would realize this immediately and not be able to further harm, or attempt to harm Harry and flee the scene. He would have never seen Lily, and even had he sensed her, she was quick and agile enough to hopefully been able to avoid him. If my spell had worked, I'd have lived, like I did, and woken up within hours of casting it. We'd be alive, Harry would be, and we'd be able to figure out what it was that Harry possessed now that he was marked as Voldemort's equal. Thus, enabling us to better prepare for what Harry's future was going to hold for him.
We then had planned on having a new Secret Keeper and going into hiding again, somewhere else until Harry was ready to fight."
James's audience was speechless after he finished his side of the story. He felt horrible. He had never felt so guilty and as ashamed in his life as he did at that moment. He put his son's life at risk that night, on purpose, just because he and Lily thought they had an unbeatable plan.
But they hadn't, and because of James's ardent confidence, and how he'd managed to convince Lily of it too, their son had grown up without either one of them there for comfort, guidance, love…
"James, why didn't you share this plan with anyone else?" Dumbledore asked him.
James shook his head. "I told you, we were over confident about it. You all know me and my conceited thoughts, I had Lily convinced that we could master these spells and potions. And once it got into her head…we just wanted…if we told anyone…" James's tears started again as he took a moment to catch his breath. "We, no, I knew that if we told anyone you'd try and stop us. You'd make us see how zealous and outrageous the plan was…"
"We could have helped," Remus told him.
James's breathing hardened. He pursed his lips and glared out the window. "You don't get it, do you? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what Lily or I could have done, it's what we did do that matters. We messed up. We risked everything and…and lost. We disappointed Harry, and he doesn't even realize it yet."
He swallowed and turned towards the door. He stopped in the doorway and looked up towards the high ceilings. With a crack in his voice, he spoke.
"You should have left me. Rosmerta should have never found me. You should have left me to spend the rest of my living days wondering, suffering. I'm better off…Harry's…Harry's better off thinking that I am dead…he deserves a father…a…he deserves a father that would make the right decisions."
James quietly shut the door behind as he left Dumbledore's office.
James walked. He walked the castle and the grounds for what seemed an eternity. He had hoped that walking would clear his mind and let him think, but so far, he'd done nothing but depress himself further.
The way he saw it, regaining his old life back had given him a few things and the only two good things he could see out of it was Remus and knowing that his son was alive and well.
Nothing else seemed worth coming back for. He missed Tiffany. He missed the late nights at the bar, the movies, the walks around the city, and the never-ending game of chess they had. He missed sitting in the library for hours searching anything that could have been a clue and then going to an all night café and making up his past with her.
He missed innocence.
It was something that James Brian Potter had left behind many, many years ago. It was something that Evan Gryffin had tried to hold on to, not knowing what else there could be. It was something that either as a muggle or a wizard, life gave up too easily.
James wanted it back.
He wanted to go back fifteen years. He wanted to hold Lily in his arms, smell her hair, and see her dancing eyes swirling in the light. He wanted to twirl her around in the snow, tickle her, make her laugh, and show that dazzling smile she possessed.
James wanted his baby son back, complete with his head full of unruly black hair and the chubby cheeks. He wanted to teach his son how to successfully pull pranks on his unsuspecting mother, how to fly and the rules to Quidditch. He wanted to watch Harry take his first steps again, and hear his first words. He wanted to hear Harry ask why and how so many times that Sirius would throw himself down the stairs, making Harry laugh and…ask why.
He wanted to be there when Harry received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and celebrate with him. He wanted to be the one to take him to Diagon Alley and buy his school supplies. He wanted to first-handedly hear the tales of Harry at school, find out his house, hear of him passing his classes, pranking his enemies…
James wanted to celebrate Christmas with Harry and Lily. He wanted for Sirius and Remus to show up on Christmas day, with their own families for a hearty meal that Lily would slave over, loving every minute of it. He wanted his parents there; his mother smiling over Harry and his father trying to tell made up stories to his grandson. He wanted Peter there, before he'd fallen into the depths of dark arts.
James wanted the life that he didn't get, that he'd never have. He did not want to face his son now, after ruining his life in so many ways. He didn't want to keep living without Lily by his side. He didn't want to face the world without his best friend, his brother.
James found himself in the Quidditch pitch. He sat on the ground, gazed at the hazy sky, and let the tears fall silently down his cheeks again.
What if they were right? What if Harry would want nothing to do with him? What if he couldn't accept that James was alive and his father? What if, after finding out what really happened that night, Harry wanted nothing more than to just forget him, to forget the memory of Lily? What if he hated them?
He had every right to, James thought.
James was glad that Harry had friends. He was glad that Harry seemed adjusted enough to accept his fate and his role in life. He silently thanked the Weasley's for taking him in and caring for him. And against his own feelings of dislike, he thanked Petunia Evans-Dursley for taking Harry into her household and giving him shelter and safety.
James thought to what Lily might think if she were alive to find out her sister had been raising their son. He wasn't sure what her reaction would have been. He knew an initial reaction would have been much like his own, knowing how Vernon felt about them. But, something told James that Petunia had a choice when she had found Harry on her doorstep, and she could have refused. She had accepted this role, and that would have made Lily happy, optimistic.
But still, Sirius should have been the one. Sirius should have had the chance at raising Harry. James knew in his heart that Sirius would have been wonderful. He would have cared for Harry as if Harry had been his own. Just in that mere year they all had together, Sirius was elated with Harry. James and Sirius had so many plans, so many ideas for Harry.
But Sirius was gone. Sirius never got the chance even while he had been alive. Peter had framed him.
Anger soared through James's veins. Lily had been the first to bring up the possibility that Peter was the one who had betrayed them. James had refused to believe it at first. He couldn't accept the idea that one of his closest mates would turn…when Sirius thought it was Remus, James reacted the same way. There was no way.
But then James watched them. He watched and paid attention to the way that Peter acted, the way he was so much more aloof, how he was always asking so many questions, making sure he understood things. He disappeared a lot, more so than he had previously. James knew then. He was the weak one, the one who had always been so desperate for attention, for a place to fit…
James hadn't known what to do with himself when he found out. He was so upset, mad, hurt…broken. It had been a blow to his ego; Peter had always looked up to James, followed him.
After his initial reaction of anger, James became depressed over the situation. Had James taken advantage of Peter all those years? Had Peter never truly felt accepted, or a part of the group? Where had they gone wrong with him?
Lily was the rational thinker and pulled James out of his despair. It didn't matter anymore why Peter had turned against them, the fact was that he had and they had to deal with that.
That's when they realized they had a choice. What they should have done, James realized now as he lay back on the pitch and stared at the empty, black sky, was that they should have gone straight to Dumbledore. They should have been upfront and honest about their discovery. Albus would have known how to deal with it. It could have…it could have changed many things, ended things then, for all James knew.
But James's personal vendetta for revenge against his old friend took the best of him. It was him, then, that began thinking of the plan. It was then that James thought not only could they possibly manage to beat Voldemort at his own game and be able to better prepare Harry, but James could throw it all back in Peter's face.
James wanted to take them down, both of them; he wanted to be a part of it. And he had convinced Lily that this plan was fool proof. Once he had Lily convinced, there was no turning back. Lily believed in James, and stood beside him in all decisions. She agreed with him, this was the best route to go. They were Lily and James Potter, thrice survived Voldemort already, lived through un-measurably torrid situations and were strong. They were smart, the Heads of their year, graduated with best marks; they, as James so often had put it, were perfect.
Only they weren't. And now? So many had to suffer from James's mistakes, from his conceited thoughts, and the ones who had suffered the most where the ones he had loved the most.
Merlin, what he wouldn't give to go back and change things. He would do things right if he could go back. He'd risk an uncertain future if it meant he'd have his family and friends back with him. If it meant that he could have what had truly once mattered before revenge had taken over his soul.
Did he really want Harry to meet him like this? Was it fair to him? Or was it fair for him to go on believing what wasn't the truth about his parents? James released an uneven sigh. No, it wasn't fair to Harry to not know. It wasn't fair to Lily's memory that James didn't stand up like the man that he should be and accept the blame and consequences. It wasn't fair to Sirius who had given up his life, not knowing the truth, either.
James couldn't go back in time and change anything. He knew that. He had to do it right this time; there wasn't any more room for mistakes. He didn't care what Erica or Albus thought, hell, he didn't even care what Remus thought; he was going to find his son. He was going to see him and…he was going to look into his eyes that were like his mothers…he was going to witness the messy hair that he knew so well…he was going to tell him the truth.
James sat up, his face frozen in a look of determination. Harry, with or without James by his side, was going to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Tom Riddle was not the only wizard or muggle, or human of any kind…or being of any kind that hadn't had a happy childhood. He wasn't the only creature on this earth that should have had what he never got, but James would be damned if he'd let Voldemort ruin any more lives.
James reached in his pocket and realized that he still didn't have a wand. He had to get one; his old one, a new one, anyone's would do. He needed to remember how to apparate. He needed a quick refresher course on simple spells and charms. It'd come back to him, he just needed to jog his memory.
The innocence might be gone for him, and it might be gone already for Harry, but no more needed to live against the cruelty of the dark arts anymore.
The Potter's would finish what they started, and they would win.
...huggles n cookies...
...missers...
