A/N: Thank you SO much for the wonderful response to the last chapter! I am so happy everyone enjoyed the reunion! Just as a heads up, things are crazy busy for me at the moment, and don't look to be clearing up in the near future. I may take a little longer to update in the coming weeks, but I promise I will never go more than 2 weeks without updating if I can avoid it! I'm behind on editing and have added a second job to my schedule, so things are a bit hectic Thanks for sticking with me!

Chapter 24

While Sirius adjusted the wards on the house and erected a few dozen more, James and Lily helped their trembling son to the sofa. Lily offered to go start cocoa, and almost immediately, Kreacher popped out to join in the fussing and insisted he would make biscuits, despite the fact that no one was hungry.

"Let him," Harry suggested just as James started to argue. "Trust me."

James frowned in confusion and watched as the elf scampered into the kitchen. "You've tamed Kreacher?" he asked incredulously. "That nasty bugger has been giving Sirius fits for years."

"He likes me," Harry shrugged.

"A bloody miracle," James shook his head in wonder. Who would have thought?

"Sirius says it's because he likes being needed. He always goes on about special elf tea."

"Ah," James laughed, thinking of his own house-elf, Posey. Posey had been in his family for decades, and she was the consummate caretaker. She loved a project, certainly, and when he had been young and ill, she was also forcing her special tea upon him. Perhaps it did make sense that Kreacher had taken to Harry, despite his fanaticism for Sirius's mother. "Between him and your mum, I think you'll be well looked after tonight. Think we ought to work out a signal in case they start to smother?" he teased.

Harry laughed a little, and James suddenly felt the ancient, gaping wounds of his son's absence finally beginning to heal. It was the first time he had heard Harry laugh in a dozen years, and it was different now, but still amazing and wonderful and so, so right. Unable to stop himself, he reached over and ruffled his son's hair again. It was so like his own, and he knew how much he loathed others touching his hair at that age, but Harry let him do it and relaxed into the sofa cushions.

"You must be exhausted," James noted sympathetically. "You can sleep, you know. We'll all keep watch tonight, I promise. You're safe."

"No," Harry shook his head fervently. "I don't want to sleep."

"Of course. I understand," he nodded. "At least lean back then and try to relax."

Harry did as instructed, and James nudged him over a bit so he was resting a little more against his shoulder. "Sirius said," Harry began after a moment. He swallowed hard, staring distantly into the crackling fire, then started again. "Sirius said it was impossible to escape the prison."

We all thought it was, James mused darkly. But now was not the time to tell Harry about dementors or other frightening things. His son was fighting the fatigue, but the struggle had sapped him of energy, and it was growing quite late now. James wanted him to sleep tonight, at some point, and to do it without nightmares of dark creatures and criminals. "It's never been done before," he admitted, "but we'll puzzle out how he did it, and when we put him back, he won't escape again."

"You think they'll catch him?" Harry questioned nervously.

"Of course," he nodded with far more confidence than he felt. "Tonight was an unfortunate accident, Harry, and it was mostly my fault," he admitted. "I never changed the wards at the manor. We weren't there often, and he was in prison. It was a mistake, but we'll see to it now. We're smarter than him and better than him," he promised. "And his mind is addled from Azkaban. You needn't worry, all right? He won't come near you again."

"I hope not. He looked…strange," Harry shuddered.

James wrapped an arm around his son's shoulder to protect him from the frightening memories. Pettigrew had indeed looked unhinged, his hair long and matted and his figure downright gaunt. It was hard now to recall when Pettigrew the traitor had just been Peter their friend, and it was difficult now to even remember what he had looked like when he was still just an innocent little lump of a wizard. In youth, Peter Pettigrew was a chubby but likeable bloke, his ruddy face nervous but inviting and his manner cheerful, if slightly needy. It was James himself who brought Peter into the fold, who had felt bad for the awkward Gryffindor who didn't quite fit in anywhere. So many years ago, it was he who made the first effort, and the others had followed suit.

But time had distorted all of his memories. There was hardly anything left of the mild-mannered boy he had known all those years ago. All the memories now seemed to flash through his mind with an evil tint, a dark shadow that tainted even the happiest of childhood moments.

And Peter looked nothing like he did once. He was downright skeletal now, withered by the torture of the dementors, destroyed by his time in Azkaban. His very soul had been chipped away, revealing the very worst beneath that affable façade. His eyes were bright and wild, his hair gnarled and dirty. It was frightenning enough for James, who was one of very few men to see Voldemort in the flesh. How much worse must it be for Harry, who knew the horrors of the world but had not yet confronted the evil that magic could inflict?

The dementors were too good for a man like Peter Pettigrew. Even that horror of horros was not enough. It was James's job to face evil, but in his mind, there was a special ring of hell for a man like Pettigrew, a man who played the friend and then turned in the cruelest of ways. There was no forgiveness in James's heart for anyone who hurt his family, and he would never mourn what his boyhood friend had become.

Harry's thoughts, apparently, echoed his own. "He was your friend?" he asked quietly.

Now it was James's turn to shudder. "A long, long time ago, Harry," he answered wearily. "We thought he was."

"What happened? Why did he change?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he was always bad. I made a terrible mistake in trusting him, Harry, but I promise-"

"Dad?" his son interjected quietly. "I…I'm not mad anymore. About anything."

James froze for a moment and carefully regarded his son. Thus far, it had been easy between them, as though nothing strange had happened at all, as though James hadn't abandoned him. He had so much to tell him, so much to apologise for. By all rights, he ought to be down on his knees grovelling and begging Harry's forgiveness, but perhaps tonight was not the night to address all he had done wrong. His son was remarkably composed in the aftermath of the trauma, but it would probably take very little to push him over the edge.

"I hoped you would come," Harry added, ducking his head and hiding his eyes. "After the thing with Lydia," he clarified.

James's throat felt thick with emotion as he pulled Harry even closer. "I wanted to come," he whispered. "I was so proud of you, Harry. I was a fool, and you may not believe me now, but I planned to come and see you, before this mess with Pettigrew happened. I was going to come in the morning and tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am for not being here sooner. It shouldn't have taken…this," he acknowledged painfully, realising for the first time how this might look to his son. "I do love you, Harry," he murmured and smoothed back the hair from Harry's forehead, revealing the strange scar that symbolised everything that went wrong in his son's short life. "Very much."

"I know," Harry whispered.

"I'll make it right," he promised, tracing his fingers over the scar. He would do more than fix what had gone wrong with his family; he would do whatever it took to make the world safe for his son again. He would do whatever it took to seek vengeance for every hurt inflicted on his boy, every day they had spent apart, every moment his son felt scared or sad or lonely. Harry said nothing this time, burrowing into his dad's side and sighing deeply as James kissed his forehead.

Lily breezed back into the room a few minutes later holding a tray of mugs in her hands. No stranger to Lily's mothering instincts, James watched with a bit of bemusement as she rather deliberately set two of the mugs aside and then handed one to Harry. He would bet his Invisbility Cloak she doctored Harry's cocoa with a calming draught, but he couldn't say he blamed her.

"How do you feel, love?" she asked her son solicitously as he gratefully sipped at his cocoa.

"Fine," he shrugged, and Lily shared a look with her husband.

"It's all right not to be," she assured him and handed James his own mug.

Harry took another sip of his cocoa and then stared down at the contents of his mug, his mind clearly churning but his mouth unmoving. Lily seemed unconcerned and sipped at her own drink, so James followed suit, expecting that Harry would talk soon.

"I don't understand," his son finally blurted when his cup was nearly empty. "What does he want with us?"

James shared another worried look with his wife, and the fear lurking in her eyes told him she was wondering the same thing. They all were, and in the hour since the attack, he'd still come up with no reasonable explanations, no way to justify this to himself. "We don't know, Harry," he admitted quietly. "Pettigrew is probably insane from prison. People like that…they sometimes feel obsessive, about an…unfinished task," he managed darkly and fought against the chill that shot down his spine. "He learned you were still alive, and it drove him even more mad."

Harry nodded and took another long sip. He looked troubled, though, and James selfishly wished he'd drink a little more so they could worry about lingering mysteries later.

No such luck, however. "Dad?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Why did he go there? If he was looking for us, wouldn't he go…home?"

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He'd been hoping Harry wouldn't

pick up on that. From Pettigrew's little speech earlier, he knew this wasn't the work of a single madman. Someone had been keeping a close eye on him, probably someone at the Ministry who was aware that his contact information had been changed to the Manor. Someone who knew Harry was not staying with his father, despite the way the story appeared in the paper. He had his suspicions, of course, but nothing he would speak of, especially in front of Harry.

"It was probably the wards," he found himself lying instead. A new sort of guilt settled in his stomach, but this time, he really was protecting Harry. His son didn't need to know, not tonight, by any stretch. "We did change them in Godric's Hollow, so he wouldn't have been able to get in. He probably tried the next best guess to see if he could get to me, and he got lucky."

"But he can't come here?" Harry asked nervously.

"He won't be getting anywhere near you, Love," Lily promised. "We'll keep you safe. And," she added, grinning just a bit. "I know your dad and Sirius will take great delight in teaching you every curse they know."

"Maybe not every curse," James corrected with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Harry looked up, interest piqued, and James felt a roar of pride deep within his chest. Oh yes, this was certainly his son.

"Wait 'till you see him work. He's just like you, James. Quite dangerous with a wand," Lily quipped.

"Think we ought take that as a compliment, mate."

Lily rolled her eyes, and Harry relaxed once more as he finished off the rest of his drink. He was already beginning to slouch a bit when Sirius finally returned, looking a bit worse for wear but forcing a bright smile at the sight of his godson sandwiched between his parents. "Everyone all right?" he inquired.

"We're all right," Lily confirmed. "Everything taken care of?"

"Dear old dad warded this place to the hilt. I revived a few of his…old tricks," he said vaguely. "No one will be setting foot inside without a gilded invitation, I think. We ought to warn Remus, I suppose."

"Or not," James suggested mischievously. "Been a while since he tangled with the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

"Don't listen to your dad, Harry," Lily advised. "He's full of rotten ideas."

"And some very good ones," Sirius added. "The trick is figuring out which is which."

"You lot have already corrupted one of my sweet children. I'll thank you to leave Harry alone," Lily protested.

Harry managed a smile, but it was obvious the potions were dragging him under. He was fighting the fatigue, blinking heavily against the drowsiness settling over him and tugging him into its depths. He was slipping further and further down the sofa now, and James gently repositioned him and coaxed his head into his lap. Harry didn't fight it and curled up, making himself comfortable as he nestled between his mum and dad.

"Go to sleep, Harry," James urged, brushing his fingers through his boy's hair to lull him the rest of the way into slumber.

"Don't wanna," Harry mumbled.

"We aren't going anywhere. Just sleep."

This time his son didn't respond, so James plucked the glasses from his face and handed them over to Lily. In spite of this truly awful night, James couldn't help smiling dreamily at the sweet sight of his boy calm and relaxed and trusting as his breaths grew deep and even with sleep. The potions had undoubtedly eased him along, but the Harry in his lap now was not the same frightened, timid boy he had been just weeks ago. This was a Harry who realised he was loved, even if he couldn't quite understand it, and more than that, it was a Harry who knew his dad loved him, in spite of all the horrid things James did to convince him otherwise.

He had Lily and Sirius to thank for that, and he would, when the time was right. For the moment, he wanted to dwell in the miracle he'd been given tonight, a miracle he didn't deserve. His son saved his life tonight in an astounding show of bravery for any thirteen-year old boy. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would allow himself to be troubled by the shocking lack of regard his boy had for his own safety; tonight, he was too happy to be here, holding Harry in his arms for the first time in over a decade. Nothing would ever atone for the twelve achingly long years apart, but this…this was a start. It was a beautiful, precious start.

Lily set Harry's glasses on the table next to the large tray of biscuits Kreacher brought out. They were untouched, and the elf was probably miffed. The absurdity of it all struck him then, combined with sheer exhaustion, and James began to laugh.

"Right, then," Sirius began after a moment. "I'll be…not here."

"Thank you, Sirius," Lily whispered and moved closer to her husband and son. James grew sober again and nodded at his friend, trying to tell him all the things he couldn't say, not now, not yet. Tomorrow, there were so many apologies to give, so much gratitude to pour on the friend who had given him back his family. But tonight, for just a few more hours, James wanted to have his son wrapped up in his arms and his wife beside him while rest of the world faded away.

He didn't deserve to have her here. He knew that all too clearly. But he also knew Lily wouldn't leave him, now that he had finally come to his senses. Somehow, that made it all the worse. Lily had every reason to be just as distraught as he was by their failure when it came to Harry, but Lily had put herself back together. Lily fought for their boy while James cowered in his family manor, unwilling and unable to face his own culpability in his son's sufferings. And as much as James had loved his son, as much as he always loved his son, it was Lily who understood him, Lily who realised she had to fight for their boy and prove to him how very much he meant.

Meanwhile, James sat around drinking himself into oblivion, believing his son would never move past the hurt and accept his father back into his life.

What he said to Sirius was true: he didn't deserve Harry or Lydia. He didn't even deserve Lily. But lucky for him, no one had consulted him in all of this. Somehow, he still had all of them.

"Lily," he whispered, watching as she lovingly ran her palm over their son's cheek.

"Don't, James," she shook her head.

"I have to," he countered. "I am so sorry. I wish I could explain what I was thinking, but-"

"I know," she cut him off gently. "I know, James. I have known. It didn't make it easier to be without you," she confessed honestly, "but I'm not angry."

"You should be," he whispered. "I left you. When you needed me."

"Our son came back from the dead, James. It's hard to say how any of us ought to

have reacted," she countered. "I don't care for apologies now. I just want to know that you're all right. Sirius called me at Hogwarts and told me Pettigrew escaped and you and Harry were both missing…you've no idea how terrified I was," she murmured. "Are you certain you're all right? He didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing that won't heal. I was stupid, Lily," he admitted. "I fell asleep drunk on the sofa. I was an easy target. If my son hadn't come…"

"Stop," she shook her head. "Stop. Please. I just want to…stop regretting every bad decision and foolish mistake we've made and move on. He could have killed you, James. And then what would I do? How would I have…I can't even think about that," she whispered, clenching her eyes shut and letting out a long, shaky breath. His heart nearly broke with the love and concern pouring out of her, the very real fear she had felt at the idea of losing him. Of course he had known she would be devastated if something happened to him, but somehow, he had gotten himself so twisted around that it still felt a bit of a miracle that she could love him that much.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "No more mistakes like this. I have too much to lose, Lily. You, Harry, Lydia…I'm not ever leaving the three of you again."

His wife melted into him, and he wrapped his arm around her as well as he could without disturbing Harry.

"I want to come home, Lily," he breathed after a moment. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I want to come home."

"Good," she nodded. "Good."

"Is that…you'll let me?" he asked uncertainly.

Lily looked up at him again, a few tears spilling from her eyes beautiful eyes. "Of course I'll let you. But you know the deal, James."

"I do," he nodded quickly, understanding that this was his last chance.

"Then I'll never mention it again," she vowed.

"Lily," he murmured, tears scratching at his throat. He still had no idea how he managed to win her heart, but it was, without a doubt, the best thing he had ever done.

"I'm not being generous, James. I want to be a family again. I want our boy to come home to his parents. I just want to put all of this behind us and move on with our lives. We have enough to deal with now that…" she trailed off, unable to put voice to the horrid events of the night.

"I love you, Lily," he vowed fiercely. "I'm going to make this right again."

"I know you are," she nodded confidently and leaned over to kiss his cheek before bending down to drop a kiss to Harry's head. "We have a spectacular son, you know."

"I'm seeing that," he agreed fondly as his boy shifted in his lap and sighed in his sleep. He looked deceptively young with his face so peaceful and his glasses removed; he was fragile, in many ways, still small and frail and brittle, but he had displayed such enormous strength tonight, such courage and compassion and such love and loyalty.

This boy was a Potter, through and through, and he had been so clearly blessed with Lily's heart.

"Beautiful job, Mrs. Potter," he whispered.

"Same to you, Mr. Potter."

"You should get some sleep," he urged. "Tomorrow will be a very long day."

"I know," she agreed with a sad smile. "But I just want to…I don't know," she shook her head.

But James understood. They had spent twelve years without their son, without their family all together like this. Then tonight, they had come so close to losing him all over again. One wrong move, and it could have been over. One curse, and Harry could be dead all over again, or James. But they were here. Their son was safe and alive and sound asleep with both of his parents here to watch over him, and James was loath to do anything that would put an end to this perfect moment in time. How long had he waited for a moment like this? How long had he yearned for it and never believed it possible? How could he sleep now, when he knew how very precious this time was?

If he could go back in time, he never would have put his son down. If he could start all over again, he never would have let Harry out of his sight. They had been so young to be parents, and still newly married when Harry came along. There were times that he resented his son, even as much as he loved him. There were times when he missed being young himself, missed feeling carefree and unburdened. He had asked Remus and Sirius to mind his son while he spent time with his wife, and he had savoured those precious moments of silence when Harry was finally put down for the night. But Harry had still been impossibly precious to him, and had he known that putting Harry to bed that night was the last time he would see him for twelve endless years, he would have clutched his baby boy close to his chest and never let him go. He have whispered, over and over, how very much he loved him. He would never have let his son be out of his sight…if only he had known.

He hadn't, of course. And neither had Lily. They put their boy to bed believing they were safe under the enchantments, foolishly trusting in the one who would ultimately betray them. But now Harry was here, and as James ran his fingers over his son's cheek, he made a silent promise to cherish him, to love him, to show him, every day of his life, how precious he was.

James stayed awake for hours, long after Lily succumbed to her own exhaustion and dropped off to sleep. They were all in a confusing jumble on the sofa, Harry's head still in James's lap while Lily wedged herself between her son and the sofa and rested her head on her husband's shoulder. James dozed on and off as his family slept, safe and secure beside him, but he woke with a start when he heard the approach of quiet footsteps.

"It's me," Sirius announced, holding up his hands in offering.

James opened his mouth to explain, then realised his best mate knew exactly why he was a bit jumpy tonight. The memories washed over him once more, and he clenched his eyes shut as he tried to block the sound of Harry's frantic breathing as Peter Pettigrew pressed a wand to his throat and clutched him around the neck.

"We ought to put them to bed," Sirius suggested quietly when James regained his composure. "They'll both be sore and sorry if we let them sleep all night like this."

James nodded and allowed Sirius to help him extricate Harry from Lily's grasp. Both were too exhausted to notice much, and Harry just sighed and slept on as James scooped him into his arms. Sirius followed, levitating Lily with his wand, and they were both carefully deposited in Harry's room. Sirius enlarged the bed to make sure there was plenty of room, but Harry immediately tucked himself into a ball as James pulled the blankets up over him.

"Goodnight, Love," James whispered, running his hand through his son's hair one last time before following Sirius out of the bedroom.

By some unspoken agreement, James and Sirius both headed for the kitchen. James sat at the table while his friend retrieved a large bottle of Firewhiskey and poured them both large glasses. It was nearing dawn, but James paid no mind to the time as he tossed back a long sip and savoured the burn all the way down his throat. Sirius followed suit, and they sat in companionable, if slightly awkward silence for a moment.

"I went after him," Sirius suddenly confessed, staring blankly down at the amber liquid in his glass.

"What?"

"Peter. I went after him that night. After."

"You…he was arrested," James shook his head. "We told Dumbledore about the switch, and-"

"You were in no shape to give the memories. I was meant to report to the Aurors to hand them over, provide proof." Sirius took another shot of his drink and still kept his eyes cast down at the table. "Instead, I went after him. Nearly had him," he said darkly. "And then I thought of Harry and…and what he would have thought of me. If I did that, in his name."

"So you turned the memories in instead," James deduced, feeling sick as Sirius nodded. Part of him was filled with anger – anger that Sirius hadn't just done it and taken care of this problem years ago. The other part, though, the part who still saw this man as a brother, felt inordinately relieved that he hadn't cursed himself that way. "He stopped me as well. I was ready to do it. Harry begged me not to."

"I don't want to say this, Prongs. I don't even want to think it."

"No. I know," he nodded darkly.

"He needs to die. He needs to be killed for what he did."

"I think even that is too good for him," James shook his head. "But you're right. About Harry. He wouldn't want us to do it in his name. I don't want to lie to him…"

"I don't, either, but there are some things more important than a clear conscience. Keeping him safe is one of them."

"I agree," he sighed. "And I want the Kiss, Sirius. When we catch him, I want to see his soul sucked out of him. I'll keep Harry and Lydia far away, but I need to see it and know he can't hurt us again."

It was a frightening revelation about himself, something he never thought possible. He took another sip of his own drink, allowing the darkness to wash over him. It had all been so clear once, that line between right and wrong. Then he became a husband, and a father, and everything became blurred and confused and upside down. He would do anything for them, anything. But in the midst of this unsettling personal discovery was the comforting knowledge that Sirius knew, that he understood.

"Thank you," he whispered, raising his eyes to his best mate. It was rare that they spoke of the things they felt, the loyalty between them that truly knew no bounds. Not so long ago, James had insisted he would never speak to Sirius again, but there was no hurt lingering between them now, only the perfect understanding that nothing was unforgiveable between them.

James had done many things for Sirius over the years. They had been as good as brothers since their first days at Hogwarts, and James had been there for his friend through stupid pranks, abusive parents, and every dark mood imaginable. He had been the one Sirius came to when it became too much in this house. He was the one who sat at Sirius's bedside, holding his best mate's hand, after Orion worked him over one final time and left him with the physical and mental scars that lasted a lifetime. Sirius had once vowed that he owed everything – his life and sanity included – to James.

But James would never be able to repay him for this. James would never stop owing his best mate for this gift. There was nothing he could ever do for the man who had given him another chance to know his child. A part of him would always be jealous that it was Sirius who found him, Sirius who nursed him back to health, Sirius who coaxed him into trusting, but at the end of the day, James was a father who had lost everything and had it inexplicably returned to him. His son was brought home, broken and a bit worse for wear, but alive and so unfathomably wonderful.

The guilt clawed at his guts again, filling his stomach with poisonous bile. He had repaid his friend with nothing but trouble for the last month as he refused to listen to anyone. Sirius had sole responsibility for Harry's well-being since finding him on Halloween, and on top of that, he'd had to worry about James going round the twist and doing something crazy, like abandoning his family forever. Even worse, for all of Harry's reluctance to see them at the beginning, something had obviously changed in him to allow Lily to sit with him at night. There was obviously a deep desire to know his family, proven by the way Harry latched onto him so desperately this morning. How much had he damaged his son by staying away? And what did Sirius have to do to help repair those wounds?

"Sirius, I know I'll never-" he began before his best mate waved his hands dissmisively.

"I've no interest, Prongs. I know you're sitting there loathing yourself, but there isn't any point."

"But I need to-"

"No, you don't."

"Sirius."

"James."

"Padfoot."

"Prongs."

James glared, and Sirius glared right back.

"You've been a bloody idiot," Sirius said bluntly. "You hurt Lily and Lydia. You hurt Harry. If you do it again, I may very well kill you, or at least use you to practise nasty hexes," he threatened.

Sirius was trying to lighten the mood, but James would have none of it. This meant too much to him. He could not, would not screw up again. There was too much at stake. There was a small circle of people James loved in this world, and he had nearly destroyed each and every one of them with his stubborn pride. "What I said to you," James tried again, but Sirius shook his head once more.

"Stop," Sirius scolded and held up a hand. "I told you, I have no interest in discussing this."

It went against everything James believed in to let it go, but Sirius shook his head and shot him a look of warning. "All right," James finally conceded. "But at least let me thank you for…for taking care of him," he said meaningfully. "You did what I couldn't, and I can see the change in him. He's a different boy now, and you did that."

"Harry did it," Sirius countered. "Your son is amazing, James. You'll see that yourself quite soon, I imagine."

"I know," James nodded painfully. "He made it painfully clear tonight. It would have been my own fault if Pettigrew killed me…passed out drunk on my sofa," he shook his head in disgust. "He put his own neck out there for me. I acted like the most selfish prat on the planet, and my son proves he's the bigger man."

"Because he's moved past what you did wrong," Sirius argued. "He was a complete Marauder tonight, James. Sneaked right away and used the Floo to go save your hide…because he wanted his dad. It's time for you to move on now."

"It's not that easy," he argued. "That's my son. And I could have lost him without ever telling him…" he trailed off, the sobs he had restrained all night coming forward at last. He still stuggled valiantly against them, allowing silent tears to fall but refusing to give in to the all-encompassing grief.

"You have a chance now," Sirius said quietly. "Don't lose it this time. You have to move forward," he advised soberly. His tone was so uncharacteristic, it stirred James just a bit from his personal sorrow. His friend was a good, loyal man, but he had never been the best for advice. He was great at distraction and providing a laugh, but he was the rash, childish Marauder.

Clearly, when it came to Harry, Sirius was a fierce protector and devoted guardian. "Don't let me mess up again, Padfoot," James pleaded. "I couldn't live with myself."

"As I said, I'll kill you myself," Sirius promised. "Have to say, though, I think you've learned your lesson."

James laughed humourlessly and tried to stifle his tears once more. He could hate himself later; for now, he needed to focus on his family. "I don't think I can make this up to him, but I'm going to try," he vowed.

"Prongs, your kid fell sound asleep in your lap," Sirius pointed out wryly. "I think you're beyond making things up to him. Just take him home. That's all he wants."

James looked up in surprise, honestly not expecting that. Of course, the moment he set foot in this house he knew he didn't want to leave without his son, but he never would have said it aloud. Harry had found a place here, a place where he was cared for, a place where he was protected. Sirius had formed a special bond with his godson while James voluntarily bowed out. If Harry was happy here, James would never fight. He wouldn't do that to Harry, and he wouldn't do it to Sirius. "You think," he began uncertainly, looking to Sirius to gauge his reaction. "You think he wants to leave?"

Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head as though James was the biggest dolt he ever knew. "Of course he wants to leave, idiot. He wants to be with you and Lily. Probably Lydia as well. We've had our fun, but he ought to be at home."

"But he didn't even want to see us," James protested.

"He certainly looked chuffed to be with you tonight."

"Yes, because of-"

"The shock threw off his inhibitions. Do try to keep up, Prongs," Sirius teased him. "A month ago he was afraid of his own shadow. Today he put himself at risk of punishment with me, risked life and limb to find you, and fought his way free from Pettigrew without having a meltdown. I'd say he's a different boy than he was a few weeks ago. And I'd bet anything he'll be safe in his own bed in Godric's Hollow tomorrow night."

The thought filled James with a comfort and warmth he couldn't describe, a pleasure he hadn't felt in twelve years. It was the feeling of knowing the world was as it ought to be, that the people you loved were safe and content. Since Harry was taken from them, he never could feel whole. They'd come as close to perfection as they could in his absence, but having him home again…that was a level of happiness James never dreamed to reach again.

Home. His son safe beneath his own roof once more. His son sleeping soundly in a room just across from his mum and dad, a room where James could tiptoe from his own bed to watch the ryhthmic rise and fall of his chest and know he was all right. Tonight, he could sit in Harry's room watching his boy sleep and thank the stars for bringing him back where he belonged, bringing him home.

Suddenly James realised just how much he missed the place. Potter Manor was a beautiful old house, but without his parents, it felt so huge and empty and cold. Without Lily, it could never feel like home to him. Without his children, he felt lost, rudderless, completely without purpose. The house he and Lily rebuilt in the ashes was where he truly belonged. Even with all the painful memories it used to hold, it was still where he had always felt the closest to Harry. It was where Lydia took her first steps, uttered her first words, flew on a broom for the first time. And now Harry would join them once more, and it would become the place where he healed, the place where they all came together once more, just as they were always meant to. The ghosts could be chased away, the painful echoes forgotten as one lost child returned to the people who loved him more than life.

"We'll want you there all the time, you know," he managed.

"Try and be rid of me," Sirius grinned.

And just like that, James knew his family – his whole family – was really going to make it through this.