Chapter Eleven

On February first, Emmeline Potter turned eleven. Harry woke that morning to a door slamming and excited feet running past his room. Curiously, he poked his head out his door, sleep still hanging heavily upon him, as Em thundered down the hallway.

"Is it here?! Is it here yet?!"

Another door opened. "It's not even seven yet," Sam complained loudly. "Will you shut your bloody mouth?!"

Em stopped to stick her tongue out at her older brother.

"Watch your language," James scolded, pulling on a jumper as he exited his bedroom. "And be nice to your sister."

"The sun isn't even up yet," Sam cried, gesturing angrily at his window where pale light shone through.

James pointed at him. "Attitude, mate," he said. "You need to watch it." James took pause and quickly ran his eyes over his son. "You sleep okay?"

"Fine"

"You sure?"

Sam looked away. "Stop doing your healer thing," he said.

"I'm not. I'm doing my dad thing."

Sam grumbled and headed into the bathroom only to stomp back out a second later. "Somebody—" He pointed at Em who covered her mouth with a hand. "—covered the toilet seat with syrup."

Laughter exploded from Em, and James turned to her, his eyes betraying the mirth he tried to hide. "Oh, I see we're doing Birthday pranks again."

Em snorted, and Sam sent her a nasty look.

"It was well executed, Em," James said, placing a hand on her back and guiding her into the bathroom. "Now, go clean it off before your mother finds out."

Sam grumbled to himself and turned to return to bed, but caught Harry watching their exchange. His scowl deepened, and he spun around quickly, slamming the door violently. James sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes, he smiled softly at Harry.

"Hope we didn't wake you."

"It's okay," he said.

"She's been anticipating this day for months." James glanced at the open bathroom door where Em scrubbed at the toilet seat. "And, apparently, she's growing into a prankster."

"You must be proud," Harry commented.

"What are we proud about?" Sirius bounded up the stairs two at a time.

Em poked her head out of the bathroom. "I covered the toilet seat in syrup, and Sam almost sat down on it."

Sirius nodded with approval. "You know, I once did something similar but with glue—"

James shoved Sirius. "Padfoot, don't give her any ideas."

"No, Padfoot, give me all the ideas," Em said from the bathroom.

The smell of french toast and eggs drifted up the stairs. A door opened down the hall, Sam emerging. "Food," he grumbled, having given in to the promise of breakfast, and thudded down the stairs.

"Well, it smells like Lily has outdone herself," James said, placing his hand gently on Harry's back. "Come on, let's eat before the warming charms wear off."

OOO

Halfway through breakfast, the Floo lit up with a whoosh, Em taking off like an out of control broom.

"It's here!" she screamed.

"Em, darling, please finish chewing," Lily admonished. "I'd rather not have to cast a Heimlich on you."

The girl came to a halt, giving her mother an apologetic look as she finished chewing. Then, with a grin, she took off running through the doorway. Voices came from the sitting room, and Em soon returned, pulling Albus Dumbledore by hand into the kitchen. In his other hand was a letter.

"Albus! You don't usually do letter deliveries in person," Lily stood up. "If I knew you were coming, I would have made more," she said, gesturing to the empty dishes on the table.

Albus smiled kindly. "I am only here for a brief moment," he turned and gave Em a pointed look, "but I'll be back this afternoon." He winked at the girl and made a show of handing her the letter.

Grabbing it, Em tore it open, her fingers gripping the parchment as she read the letter.

Albus turned to Harry. "I would like a moment to speak with you," he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder as he guided him out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. The old wizard sat down in one of the chairs by the fire, which was lit, making Albus' dark robes almost purple. He pulled a small drawstring bag from within his robes and opened it.

Harry sat down across from him.

"Pear drop?" He held the bag open.

Harry shook his head. "No thanks."

Albus nodded with understanding. "I thought I would give them a try," he said, popping one into his mouth. "Lemon sherbets have been hard to come by recently." Albus rolled the sweet around his mouth, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. "I much prefer the lemon flavoring, though." Albus smiled kindly and folded his hands. "Now, there is much we must speak about, my boy," he began, his eyes drifting to Harry's forehead.

Harry resisted the urge to cover his scar with his hair.

"I understand the scar you have is a curse scar," Albus said, "obtained the night your parents died in your world when Lord Voldemort tried to kill you."

Harry nodded. "My mother's love protected me," he said. "At least, that's what I've been told."

Albus sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "A mother's love runs incredibly deep and can facilitate some very powerful magic. There's more to your scar, though—more than just mere evidence of what happened that night." His attention was trained upon Harry's face, blue eyes searching and calculating.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and the old wizard politely looked away, his features troubled. "Tell me, Harry, do you have dreams? Dreams that seem all too real?"

"Sometimes," he said, hesitation trailing his words.

"Does it cause you pain?"

"Why do you want to know, Sir?"

Albus sighed. "I am formulating a theory regarding your scar," he said. "It troubles me, Harry, how your scar was formed."

"Why does it trouble you?"

"The type of magic that would protect you against an Avada Kedavra would be very dark. It could have some very serious repercussions that you may not even be aware of."

Harry thought of his conversation earlier in the school year with his own Dumbledore, the conversation about the connection he had with Voldemort which eventually lead to his Occlumency lessons with Snape.

"What do you know about Occlumency?"

A fist of anxiety gripped at his insides. "I had lessons back in my world, but they didn't go so well."

"Why is that?"

"Professor Snape taught me. He and I don't get along very well."

Albus nodded with understanding. "Severus is a very talented Occlumens, but his teaching methods take a little getting used to. I fear that I must ask you to overlook his faults and resume your lessons."

Harry gripped the chair arms and looked into the fire. His stomach roiled at the thought of having lessons again with Snape.

"Remus has already been teaching me."

"Harry, you have a connection to Voldemort that you have little control over. While Remus is extremely skilled at Occlumency, he is no match for Severus." Albus leaned in towards Harry. Harry noticed the fingers of his left hand were blackened and desiccated. "Severus is in a position to understand what you are up against."

Harry stared at Dumbledore's fingers and wondered how they had gotten that way.

"Harry, I wouldn't ask you this if it weren't of utmost importance. Sometimes we must put aside our fears for the greater-"

"Albus, don't you dare say for the greater good." James pushed through the kitchen door and strode across the sitting room, his finger pointed at the old wizard. "You know how skilled Remus is at Occlumency. He is more than adequate at teaching Harry to close off his mind."

"I am not inferring the inadequacy of Remus as a teacher. I am concerned about the connection the boy has with Voldemort. Severus can help him—"

"No, Albus." James crossed his arms and regarded the old wizard with a degree of defiance that Harry found surprising. "Lily and I respect Severus a great deal, but we both disagree with his approach to teaching. We have decided that Remus should teach him."

"I am not so sure that this is a decision either you or Lily should be making," Albus said softly and stood with his hands folded. "Now, I have another meeting to attend."

James moved between Albus and the fireplace. "We're not finished."

Harry noted the fierceness in James' eyes—fierceness, he realized, for him. He sat back and stared at the man, unfamiliar with the idea that there was someone who was so invested in him and his well being.

James' eyes hardened. "He is not a pawn in this war, Albus. Lily and I will not stand for it, or do you want a repeat of—" He stopped and closed his eyes as if in pain.

Albus' eyes saddened, and the determination that had filled the older man dissappeared as he appeared to deflate. "I have made a great number of mistakes in my life."

"Yes, you have."

"I will respect your wishes, then." He looked James steadily in the eye. "But please understand that Harry has a connection with Voldemort."

Harry caught the smallest flinch in James' eyes.

The older wizard ignored the other man's discomfort and turned to Harry. "A connection such as the one you have, Harry, is dangerous. I trust that you will apply yourself and do exactly as Remus instructs."

"Yes, Sir," he replied.

Satisfied, Albus nodded at James and stepped into the fireplace where he disappeared in a swirl of blue flames. With the old wizard gone, James turned to Harry. Gently, he rested his hands on Harry's thin shoulders, every bone noticeable.

"You, as a person, matter. Don't ever forget that. Just because there is a war going on doesn't mean we need to lose our humanity. If there's one thing we need to remember, it's that."

Harry nodded. "Alright."

James let go of Harry's shoulders and gestured to the doorway leading into the kitchen. "Come on. Let's finish breakfast."

Harry sat down beside his godfather to finish his breakfast as James disappeared out the back door and quickly reappeared with a large wrapped box in hand. He handed it to Em, who excitedly took it and quickly dropped it on the table, eyeing it with trepidation.

"What did you do to it?" She glared at her father before giving the box a hesitant poke.

"It'll probably explode," Sam commented, watching on with interest.

Harry scooted his plate away from the brightly wrapped present as his godfather chuckled beside him.

"You helped!" Em accused Sirius.

Sirius broke out in a grin. "Open it," he urged.

Keeping the gift at arm's reach, she gingerly removed the wrapping paper. When nothing exploded, she leaned in with more confidence. Em lifted the lid off the box, reached in slowly, and pulled out a miniature broom that immediately grew to normal-sized. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the Nimbus1000—used, but refurbished—she held in her hands. And that was when the box exploded, showering Em, and only Em, in a fine mist of glitter.

OOO

The Weasley's arrived first, filling the house with lots of red hair and noise. Soon after, more and more people spilled out of the Potter's floo, faces lit in excitement and wrapped packages clutched in hand. Most of the people in attendance he either remembered from the Order meeting or he recognized from his world. A handful of younger children Em seemed to know arrived in a cluster and immediately began chasing each other through the house in an elaborate game of indoor-Quidditch until Lily ushered them all, Weasley children included, outside. Harry hung back, preferring to stay out of notice—and out of the way of the surly Potions Master who showed up much to Em's excitement—until Hagrid arrived.

The half-giant emerged from the floo with a large pink box tucked safely beneath one of his arms. He shook his head to rid himself of the fine coating of ash and looked directly at Harry. His face paled, and his arms went slack. Lily quickly darted forward to save the box as Hagrid's eyes teared up.

"Look at yeh. I know Dumbledore said yeh were—" The large man pulled his handkerchief from his coat pocket and loudly blew his nose. "Oh, come 'ere." Hagrid grabbed Harry around the shoulders and hugged him tightly, sobbing loudly.

"It's good to see you too, Hagrid," Harry mumbled into the man's moleskin coat.

"Yeh know me!"

"Of course I know you. You were my first friend."

Hagrid pulled away and wiped hastily at his eyes. "I told meself I wouldn't blubber away, but here I am lookin' like a crying fool."

"It's okay, Hagrid." Em patted the large man on the back. "He was a surprise to us too."

Harry felt people stare at him and he took a deep breath, allowing himself to be okay with the attention.

Hagrid blew his nose one last time then crumpled up his handkerchief and stowed it away in the inside pocket of his overcoat. Then, remembering something, he patted his pockets and muttered to himself, "I havn' forgotten to bring it, have I?"

Em peered at Hagrid curiously as the half-giant rooted around in his dozens of pockets. Finding what he was searching for, he pulled out an old and worn hat Harry recognized.

"Dumbledore will be late. He asked me ta bring this so yeh can be sorted, Em."

James set a chair down behind Em as the party guests gathered around. Conversation drifted towards the sorting, many people remembering their own sorting at Hogwarts many years ago or predicting what house Em would be sorted into.

"She'll be Gryffindor, for sure." Ron moved to stand beside Harry. "There's never been a Potter that's not been in Gryffindor."

Hagrid set the old hat on Em's head, and an expectant hush settled on the party as they waited for the verdict. Em sat with her mouth hanging open, and Harry wondered what the hat was saying to her. A minute passed and then two more, the adults fidgeting.

"Sure is taking its time sorting her out," Ron commented.

"Did the same for me."

Ron twisted his face. "You think it wants to put her in Slytherin, too?"

"Only if she wants to."

"You can't pick your house," Ron argued.

"Yeah, you can."

Ron didn't have time to respond as the seam in the old hat opened. "RAVENCLAW!" it bellowed, having long since grown accustomed to announcing sortings in The Great Hall.

"Wow." Ron winced and leaned in towards Harry. "That's a first."

OOO

Harry looked through the small pile of gifts on the table. Dinner had finished not too long ago, and the sound of dishes and silverware clinking could be heard in the kitchen as the adults put the kitchen back into proper order. His stomach was almost uncomfortably full of lasagna and cake, and he appreciated the quiet moment he managed to grab as Lily ushered all the party-goers Hogwarts-aged or younger out the kitchen door. In the rush to be the first out to the Quidditch field, Harry slipped out the opposite door and into the sitting room. On the far wall, the coffee table had been pushed back against the wall, and people had piled gifts into towers. His eyes were drawn to a large and familiar pink box, and with one finger, he lifted the corner of the lid and laughed at the large cake sitting within.

"Hagrid's specialty rock cake—not exactly edible."

Harry turned. James stood beside him. "I know. He sends me one every year for my birthday." A painful swell of longing for his friends back home lodged itself in his chest. "Hagrid gave me a cake almost exactly like this on my eleventh birthday." A memory surfaced in his mind, making him laugh. "My cousin, Dudley, tried to eat it, and Hagrid gave him a pig's tail."

James' eyebrows raised in appreciation. "Sounds like something Sirius would do."

"Yeah, but we shouldn't encourage him."

Laughing loudly, James ran a hand through his hair. "No, no we shouldn't." He grew quiet after a moment. "Sounds like Hagrid is a good friend of yours in your world."

He nodded and looked at the pink frosting that iced the cake and the Happy Birthday Em! written in green icing. "He was my first friend."

"Your first friend?" James frowned.

"Yeah, I'd never had a friend until then. Dudley, always made sure of that." Silence developed between them, and Harry stared down at the floor, aware that he had shared too much. "I'm sorry," he said, not exactly sure why he felt the desperate urge to apologize.

A hand came down to rest on his shoulder, gentle and warm. "You don't ever need to apologize for how your family treated you." James pulled him into a tentative embrace and held him for a moment before releasing him and ruffling up his hair. "So, why are you inside and not out there playing Quidditch with everybody else?"

Harry shifted ever so slightly from one foot to the other and hiked one shoulder in a display of adolescent avoidance. James suppressed the urge to groan and instead took the teenager by the shoulders and guided him out of the living room. He pushed Harry through the kitchen, where Lily was busy cleaning up dinner, before pulling Harry's coat from the pegs by the back door and ushering the boy outside.

"Go and spend some time with people your own age." James laughed. "It'll do you good."

Pulling the coat on, Harry followed the shouts and yells coming from beyond the trees, emerging in the field where an impromptu Quidditch game was in progress.