It's Not My Time

by kathryn518

A terrible betrayal, accidental magic, and time travel. A piece on the board whose fate was to die, now knows that winning a war doesn't necessarily mean victory. With both power and foreknowledge, what will he do to ensure the future he knows does not come to pass?

It's Not My Time

It was the first day of classes his final year, and James Potter had woken up early, once more intent on showing everyone he had turned over a new leaf. The death of his parents, that summer, had been crushing, to the young man, and he had spent several weeks in mourning. He still wasn't finished grieving.

His parents, which had been loving and supporting, had both died within a few days of each other. The healers had said it had been dragon pox. But that hard, that fast? It was unheard of. They were both sick and gone in a matter of days. Also, James knew his dad had already had it long before he had been born.

James had long been preparing to eventually take his place in society. But he thought he had decades before his father, a comparatively young and vital wizard, left it to him. He was Head of the House Potter. The last remaining one.

He still struggled to wrap his head around that. He should just be worried about his responsibilities at school, he should be chasing Lily and pranking Slytherins. Not burying his parents and taking on the duties that had been left to him with his parents' passing.

He had been staying at the manor for the past six weeks and had been avoiding people, hating having to respond to every owl that brought letter after letter of ill begotten condolences.

The only other person at the manor had been Sirius Black, and occasionally Remus Lupin, but he'd even avoided his best friends for most of this time.

They had understood, each handled emotions and grief in their own way.

Sirius had handled his expulsion from his family. While he had not, and still didn't, really care for the majority of them, the idea that he had been kicked out was bad. James knew his father had always talked about family magic, it was there, always in the background, it was a part of being in a magical family. Sirius had never told James how he had felt to lose that but James knew it had to be bad.

Remus dealt with his own distance from his parents. They were absent, at best, they definitely didn't want to be around him during the full moon, and were withdrawn from him even in the best of times.

The train ride back to Hogwarts, to start the year, had been uneventful, most people who knew him had stopped by and had made a point for wishing him condolences on the loss of his parents.

While he had been given Head Boy by the headmaster, Lily had led the prefects meeting, since James had never been a prefect, much less attended their meetings. There had been some grumbling about that, especially from the Slytherins, and doubly so as he'd gotten the position of headboy over all the other prefects.

But none of the other men in his age group distinguished themselves.

James had been so busy dealing with the execution of his parent's will that he hadn't even had a chance to flirt with Lily at all. Nor had he gotten a chance to show her he had really changed. Matured.

McGonagall had told them, after dinner, that she wanted to meet with both of them the next morning, to talk about responsibilities and the division of labor among the headboy and girl. James had woken up early, intent on proving to Lily, and McGonagall, that he intended to take this responsibility seriously. He was going to do his best during his final year.

It was almost half an hour till he had to be ready but James was ready nonetheless. As he looked in the mirror of his private Head Boy's room he straightened his tie and noticed the badge on his uniform gleaming prominently, without the need to be obnoxious.

James was reaching up to straighten his tie, one last time, when he felt a sudden pressure in his head. He put his hand on his forehead with a frown, with only a moment of warning, his brain exploded with pain, as if someone had jammed a spike into it.

James had just a half-second to gasp in surprise, and clutch his head with both hands, before he fell to the ground as the pain grew. It seemed to suffuse his entire body and he could feel his own magic burning inside him, contracting, changing, replacing, expanding, so that it felt like he was cooking from the inside out.

Then, mercifully, he lost consciousness.

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"Ugh…" He groaned, an insistent pounding sound slowly bringing him to consciousness. He shuddered as he put a hand to his pounding head.

As he did, he realized there was another presence in his mind. As if that realization was the trigger he was flooded with memories. Or… both presences were flooded with memories. He couldn't even focus to figure out what was really happening.

Memories that were definitely not his… or they were his but… not his?

Memories of loving parents. Growing up around the wonders of magic, and parents who supported him and pushed him.

Memories of emotionally and an occasionally physically abusive aunt and uncle. Of a childhood in a cupboard. Of denial of anything that was seen as abnormal.

Memories of the Marauders. Of becoming friends from the moment they were sorted by the Sorting Hat. Of Sirius and his impetuous and stubborn nature, who never backed down. Of Peter, able to blend into any crowd, unnoticed and able to ferret out secrets and rumors that no one else was able to. Of Remus, getting sick on a regular basis, and their confronting him with the fact that he was a werewolf. Of them each pushing and achieving their animagus forms. Of a series of pranks. Of detentions and nights frolicking in the forest on the full moon.

Memories of a different group of friends. The red hair of his first friend, Ron Weasley, stubborn and with a chip on his shoulder, regarding so many things, and the bushy brown hair of his best friend Hermione, the smartest witch of a generation, and an unmatched moral compass. And there were others. Neville, timid, insecure and coming out of his shell with a soul of pure courage. Luna flighty and spacey and smiling no matter what life seemed to throw.

Memories of Quidditch... as both a chaser and a seeker. Riding a broom that was as familiar to him as his wand but more advanced than any he had sat on.

Memories of vacations taken to France and the continent throughout his life. Of the chance to see other schools and different ways of doing magic during summers.

Memories of War. It seemed to be a lifetime of war. Fighting for his life when he was as young as eleven and somehow always in the middle of things. Victory in a war, and then… then more as an auror.

Memories of lessons from private tutors hired by his family to help him develop his understanding and his skills in any area of magic he showed that serious interest in.

Memories of lessons that were piecemeal as he learned how to survive on the fly. Lessons that he had to learn or die, and served him well as he defeated a dark lord and then became a feared auror internationally.

And oh… memories of death. Lots of death. The death of his parents from James' perspective. The death of himself from a third person's perspective. The death of people he went to school with. The deaths of his best friends. All of them. Sirius. Remus. Peter. Ron. Hermione. Neville.

Memories continued to swirl as they got closer to present. Memories of betrayal. Rage and Pain. Absolute and totally consuming him.

His eyes widened, as his jumbled mind processed what had happened...was happening, and he sat up abruptly, his hands on either side of his head.

"What.. the bloody buggering fuck?!" He muttered to himself as he pushed himself to his feet and staggered slightly as his balance felt slightly off. He half stepped, half fell, the sink the only thing keeping him from falling over as he grabbed it and propped himself up by gripping it with his arms to stare into the mirror.

He found himself staring at himself… but not. This was James Potter. This… this wasn't him. But it was him!

Where before stood James Potter… now stood…

Well… James Potter. At least physically. Mentally… was entirely different. He was still James Potter, or rather someone who was partially James Potter and partially… to his utter disbelief, his own son, Harry Potter.

His eyes were drawn to his forehead and he brushed his hair out of his face with one hand to stare with disbelief. There on the right side of his forehead was a very familiar scar. It was far lighter than it had been even after he had walked to his death in the forest. It wouldn't stand out to anyone at a casual glance, but for someone who had seen it in the mirror his whole life… and yet had never seen it before at the same time. It was… jarring.

"It's not… possible… what the bloody hell is going on?" He muttered as he slumped, blinking and putting his hand to his forehead trying to calm everything going through his mind.

He rubbed his eyes, slowly, and looked in the mirror again as if that would change things. But no, he wasn't the same James Potter that had woken this morning, ready to showcase his maturity and win Lily Evans' heart.

Nor was he the Harry Potter that… was so consumed with rage he could have cast a crucio that would put Voldemort to shame. He clenched his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth as memories once more sprung forward. This time it was definitely Harry's memories that sprung to the forefront.

They had killed them. Someone had killed his best friends, his family, in a cowardly fucking attack. A snarl escaped James' throat at the memory of the burned out Burrow, and the bodies that were only recognizable because he knew them so well. They were gathered for the birthday of Bill and Fleur's eldest, and the entire family had come.

Harry had been all the way around the world, and hadn't remembered the gathering, he was trying to help the Japanese Ministry, hunt a dark wizard when the mirror he kept with him at all times activated. He had opened it in time to hear a female scream and a flash of fire. Harry hadn't paused to question, one of his family was in trouble, and that was all he needed to know. He had apparated, without thought, across two continents to get home. He had wasted precious time checking out the Tonks' house to check on Teddy, but it was fine.

Harry had then apparated to the Burrow.

He had arrived to see the entire building, which had been built anew the year after Voldemort's downfall, in ruins. He could see the bodies of people in the remains of the house. He had rushed into the ruins, looking at the bodies, for any signs of life.

Harry was frantically sorting through the rubble, checking each charred body with dwindling hope, when Aurors had arrived several minutes later. Hermione. Ron. Arthur. Molly. He encountered them all and a little more of him broke finding each one of them.

The mirror in front of him shattered in response to the swell of anger and his own magic sizzling inside him. His entire room started to rattle as he started to lose control. It took an enormous effort of will to wrestle his anger down and for the rattling to stop again. He took several long deep breaths. The side of him that wasn't James was bubbling with fury.

James… Harry… whoever he was... closed his eyes as he reviewed. He remembered as if through a haze, that one of the aurors he frequently worked with, Ernie Macmillan, told him that Susan Bones had been attacked in her shop, Neville Longbottom attacked in St. Mungos while visiting his parents.

No one had survived any of the attacks.

But they'd tracked the attackers to a mansion... Harry had barely needed to hear anything more. "Where?" He'd demanded. His magic and fury so strong inside of him that he was tempted to rip the location from Ernie's mind, if he'd hesitated to tell him. Ernie hadn't and took him right there.

Harry hadn't hesitated, seeing a few other aurors surrounding the house. He had summoned his magic and snapped it against the wards, which shattered in only a few seconds. He had strode up to the mansion like a storm, blew the door off its hinges and had stepped inside. Unused since the death of the last Avery family member… the mansion had lights on and magic inside, signs that someone was or had been there recently.

However, the instant he stepped across the threshold of the house, runic inscriptions sprung to life on every surface he could see, all over the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. He instantly knew he'd been led into a trap. He tried to back out, step away, apparate, activate a portkey. But he couldn't. He was frozen completely.

The runes began to glow, softly, at first, and each millisecond they radiated more light. As the runes activated he felt it. A pull on his magic, on his core, on his very being. He hadn't accepted it and had pushed back.

It was like trying to push back against the ocean… but basilisk, dragon, acromantulas, cerberus, dementors, Voldemort, and countless others could not defeat him and neither would this! Harry wouldn't succumb to whatever had been happening! He had pushed with every bit of his power, fought and pressed against the magic holding him. He fought with his magic and his rage at whoever had set the trap.

Magic had poured off of him in bursts of electricity and power. And it had warped the area around him, twisting and skewing the runes that continued to glow. There was a horrific sound of the very air being torn asunder… and then nothing.

That was the last thought he remembered before waking up here. In someone who was not him.

His eyes opened once more to stare in the mirror of which only a few pieces remained, brown eyes stared back, eyes burning with rage and fury!

Through the red haze of anger, his thoughts raced. Who was he? The James that had just lost his parents or his own son, and the son of Lily Evans?

He had had a child with Lily Evans… And wasn't that… something?

But how had this happened? What was supposed to have happened? His… Harry's memories? It certainly felt like it was more than memories. His Soul? Had been sent to James? To him? To go through time. It was all a struggle to wrap his mind around. There was no way this was supposed to be the result.

Had his defiance done something?

The man shook his head as he tried to focus to separate all the thoughts going through his head. James' mind stopped on the fact that he'd died, he and Lily had sacrificed themselves for him.. His son. Sirius, Remus, even Dumbledore.

Even as his thoughts briefly flitted to Dumbledore, his mind pulled up a memory of the man's death. Despite the fact that the side of him who was James knew he was alive, he had seen him just the night before. The headmaster, a mentor, a grandfather figure.

The knocking at the door grew louder and increasingly insistent.

He was wrestling with the fact that somehow he was back in time… or he had someone from the future inside him. It was so confusing!

The pounding at the door continued to intrude as he tried to organize his thoughts and control the rage that was a hair's breadth from boiling over and unleashing itself.

Hermione's voice came to him as his frustration and disbelief mounted. "Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry." Her half warning, half scolding voice from their third year came back.

Ire from both sides of his mentality surged inside of his mind once more. James at the influx of memories, from just how much darkness lay in the future, and Harry, from the loss of everything, the deep betrayal he had felt, at the loss of everyone he had valued, and then the trap he had stepped into in his recklessness.

"No, no, no!" James snarled as he snapped his fist forward into where the mirror had stood, managing to punch the wall and cut the side of his fist on one of the remaining shards that had still been affixed to the wall.

Harry… James… neither? Both? Stared at his fist in front of the now broken mirror. His heart was racing, he could feel the blood pumping in his veins, his magic demanding to be unleashed, to smash something. Anything.

He stared at the blood as it slowly dripped from his clenched fist into the sink below and used his will to regain a semblance of control on his emotions. The part of him that was Harry was still raging. This was not supposed to happen! None of it. It was supposed to be over! He was supposed to have won and had his happy ending.

He'd fulfilled the Merlin forsaken prophecy! He had walked out into the forest and sacrificed himself. He had chosen to come back. He had beaten Voldemort. He had become an internationally renowned auror! He and his friends were each doing their own things to try to make society better bit by bit! It had been an uphill fight, and yes it had sometimes been frustrating, fighting the still entrenched system… a system that seemed to be built to resist any sort of change. But this… this… this was not part of things. He should not be here. Was he a ghost sharing another's body?

His father's body.

Or was he sharing more? Already his responses seemed to be affected and tempered by James, and vice versa.

And he… had no idea what to do.

Even as James tried to calm himself, he finally realized that his mind felt full with thoughts, memories and emotions, that were not his own and yet were his… his own magic felt different to him. Where before it had hummed inside him constantly, now it felt like a roar, and a constant pressure, ready to burst out of himself at the slightest provocation.

Taking slow, deep breaths seemed to help calm his own surging emotions and his magic as he tried to center himself.

The pounding on the door drew him out of his mind,

"Just a second!" He called out almost instinctively, a harsh bark to his voice. His voice was unfamiliar to himself but at the same time it was still his own voice. He felt like he had sounded both the same and different to himself. It was disconcerting.

James… Harry… whoever he was, put his hand to his head, as he took several more deep breaths, doing his best to bring a measure of calm to his surging emotions and thoughts.

Even as his mind settled a little, he could tell he was no longer James Potter.

But he wasn't Harry Potter either.

He idly wondered if Hermione would say that it would be just his own bizarre and cursed luck that he would somehow manage to give himself a bizarre version of multiple personality disorder. A deep spike of pain surged through him as he remembered finding her half burnt body, searching desperately for a pulse only to find nothing.

His fists clenched and once more he had to inhale slowly.

Somehow… he was both James and Harry. And yet he was neither. He had… two lived experiences, two personalities in him.

He took another breath and looked into the remaining piece of the mirror again and stared into his own eyes, eyes that were both familiar and strange to him. They were dark brown eyes looking back at him through wire rimmed glasses. But as he looked closer, those eyes had emerald flecks in them.

His perusal was cut short as the pounding on the door began again.

He moved over to it and wrenched it open. Determined to tell whoever it was to piss right the hell off. "WHAT?!" He demanded shrilly before he could stop himself.

He found himself standing face to face with the girl he had admired and loved for six years, since he first laid eyes on her, on the train to Hogwarts. The same one who he had dreamed of meeting face to face for as long as he could remember. His mother? But it wasn't...

And wasn't that just bloody weird as hell?

However his memories of her, as the recipient of his unrequited crush, far outweighed the fleeting images he had of her as his mother. Harry only had pictures, a distorted memory from infancy and two experiences of seeing her spectres.

Still… now that he was face to face with her, he felt a pang in his heart. He opened his mouth to say something but the words froze, as he couldn't even decide what to say.

Of course that pause meant he didn't get a chance to say anything before she started in on him.

"Potter!" Her emerald eyes sparking in response to his blunt demand, "It's not even day one and you can't wake up in time for a meeting with Professor McGonagall?"

Her voice was brusque and challenging.

He closed his eyes to take yet another breath to give his thoughts time to focus. He barely managed a muttered "Sorry," as he ran a hand over his face.

"I hope you don't think this is the way this is going to work all year!" Her voice continued sharply. "I can't believe you can't even go a single day…"

He left his eyes closed and tuned her out briefly, once more burying the urge to tell her to piss off so he could sort himself out.

He wasn't supposed to be here, he should be in Japan chasing down yet another dark wizard not being confronted by his future wife? His… Harry's mother? It was all so twisted and he was still struggling to get on an even keel.

One thing that he knew instinctively, as his mind settled a little, this… melding... changed things. The memories… the personality he had.

His body and his son's memory and magic.

His memories and his magic in his father's body… in his father's time!

"I'm not going to do the duties of the Headboy and Headgirl while you do nothing!" Lily Evans wound down her rant as she scolded him. Her hands rested on her hips as her fierce green eyes glared at him.

His eyes snapped open as he quickly made a decision.

Lily Evans for her part, expected him to apologize, again. She expected him to laugh it off, make a joke, or a comment about needing her. She also gave it an outside shot of him rolling his eyes and commenting on her penchant for rules. She was ready with rejoinders for each one of these choices as she wasn't going to give him an inch, knowing, if she did, that it would set the tone for the year.

She wondered if he had been out late the night before with his friends… because he had the look of someone who'd just been caught off guard by the herd of hippogriffs that had stampeded over him, and he was properly disoriented and outraged over it. Then again, Lily surmised that he might just be fighting off a firewhiskey hangover.

She did not expect the reaction she received.

James' eyes met hers, for a brief second, and Lily was certain that she saw hurt, desire, frustration, concern, and even regret, for a fleeting moment

Then his expression hardened, he reached up, grabbed the Headboy's badge and tore it off his uniform with a simple pull. With the badge in hand, he grasped Lily's hand and deposited the badge there. Heedless of the blood that was on it, from his still bleeding hand.

"I quit." James said bluntly.

Lily's eyes widened in surprise and then she jerked back when he slammed the door in her face not wanting it to hit her.

She stared at the door for several seconds. James had always done whatever he could to get her attention and maintain it. Outrageous pranks, over the top dramatics, purposefully angering her, all of that, and more, he was willing to endure to get her attention. James had never dismissed her like this before, and had done so, before she could even ask about the blood on his hand.

She was torn between pounding on the door once more, demanding to talk to him, to find out if he actually was okay, and giving him a piece of her mind.

For just a moment, that expression on James' face had been startling to her. His entire expression had been… different. And it had been disquieting for her. She had even thought that it was possible from some of his interactions with other students the previous day, that the maturity, that started at the end of the previous year, had gone further over the summer.

She wondered what the hell was going on with him. Whatever it was just… gave her an odd feeling. One that she only pondered for a moment before shaking it off.

Lily huffed and then spun, leaving the quarters and heading right for McGonagall's office, Headboy badge in hand. She was confident that the deputy headmistress would straighten this out, getting to the bottom of what was happening, and then deal with whatever James had come up with this time.

James on the other hand cringed slightly at his own action, as he stared at the slammed door. He regretted acting so rashly. But he… he needed time to think. He needed to get her to leave him alone and take time to process. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths once more, letting himself take time to collect his thoughts. Both sides of him were dealing with the flood of memories.

Harry's memories had years of memories, and so, so much death. For someone like James, whose real closest experience with death had been his parents, it… was horrifying, nauseating. As if thinking about their deaths brought it up, a memory from Harry's own experiences, regarding Harry's grandparents, James' parents, came to the forefront of his mind.

James' first reaction to Harry's knowledge, of their deaths, was shock and then fury. Once more his magic surged and, this time, it lashed out, shattering the window, as well as the bedframe. The rest of the room rattled dangerously.

He slowly breathed in and out once more, calming himself, yet again, as he struggled to clear his mind, even with all the intruding thoughts and feelings. His magic, once more, slowly subsided and returned to simply being a tempest inside of himself, instead of a raging maelstrom outside of his body.

Once he felt he had it under control, he stood up. He had decisions to make and he had to have as level a head as possible while he made those decisions, decisions for the immediate future.

Namely, what was he going to do now? James, he settled on thinking of himself like that, for the moment… was relatively certain that no matter how Harry ended up in his mind, going back wasn't an option. Of course it wasn't like he had anything to go back to either.

Neither set of memories had even an iota of how to proceed there, if it was even possible. One thing was certain, what had happened in Harry's memories could not come to pass. It was one thing every bit of him was unanimous in. But… for what he experienced to be prevented, James needed to start changing things up.

Almost the moment the decision was made, James wand was out, in his hand, and his trunk flicked open as he pulled from it everything he wasn't going to need. Uniforms, books and the like, all bloody useless now.

It left only a few things in it, though one thing he was determined to do was but he shut and shrank the trunk with a wave of his wand, grabbing it with his free hand and depositing it into his pocket. Realizing that he was dripping blood down his fingers, he took a moment to heal the cuts on his hands with a swipe of his wand.

He found himself somewhat surprised that the wand worked without a problem for him. His magic felt completely different, yet the wand hadn't rejected him in the least. James knew his magic was changed, it was there inside of him, far more tangibly than he'd ever experienced before. James marveled at the change, he could almost feel it palpably. Of course, he also felt more sensitive to it.

He shut his eyes quickly and called forth his magic, almost losing himself at how strong it felt, yet, at the same time, how familiar this sensation was, Harry's magic had always responded to him. But this wasn't Harry's wand, it was James's, and it accepted their combined magic, but it shouldn't have?

Then again he wasn't sure quite what to expect, this entire situation wasn't exactly something he'd heard of before.

Not that it really mattered right now, James couldn't wait around and get everything straightened out. With everything burgeoning in his mind, he knew there was much he could accomplish and precious little time to do it in. From the amalgamation of James' and Harry's memories, he began to sort what he wanted and needed to deal with.

He glanced around the room, taking a moment to ensure he wasn't leaving anything behind that he'd later regret. His eyes flitted to his dresser, where there were a couple of pictures of himself and his friends, several of his parents that he normally wouldn't have set up in his room but given their passing, he had been more conscientious about having them this year. There were also other odds and ends that a quick summon and pack stuffed in his trunk. He was out his door less than ten minutes after he had slammed it so unceremoniously in Lily Evans' face.

Taking quick strides through the halls that were doubly familiar, he headed for the Headmaster's office rather than heading for McGonagall's office.

It was a force of habit. Have a problem you can't solve on your own? Head to Dumbledore and talk to him about it, he'd done it year after year as Harry, even if the Headmaster hadn't always been overly helpful in solving problems. Now though, he wasn't going to bring the man a problem. James had made a decision and simply needed to inform the Headmaster, no more, no less. James had just made the stairs when he abruptly changed direction. He realized he had something he needed to do first, something that he wasn't going to wait to do.

It only took him ten minutes to venture onto the 7th floor, into a room across from a dancing troll, one, the part of him that was James', was astounded to find out it existed. The Marauders had thought they knew of every place in the castle, having explored it extensively for years, even with the rat finding his way into nooks humans' often didn't notice. The Marauders had never gotten the faintest hint of this place. Nor had they stumbled across it at any point.

James entered the room he had memories of being in loads of times but had never physically stepped foot in before. He took a moment to marvel at the room in front of him. It looked like an overly crowded warehouse with piles of junk as far as the eye could see. While Harry had never really stopped to think about it, James had to appreciate the sheer skill and genius that must have gone into creating a room like this. A room that could change to whatever was needed, and, at the same time, must have been able to shift its contents to an entirely different dimension, when someone wanted something other than a place to store things. James couldn't even wrap his mind around the charm work that must have gone into it.

However, he quickly shook out of his own appreciation to begin his search. It took nearly half an hour, relatively quick when he took into account the unknown but clearly vast size of the room, and then one headpiece was dropped in a convenient box, wrapped in ropes, placed in a bigger box, that he transfigured into one solid piece, before depositing it in his trunk. James then re-shrunk his trunk and put it back in his pocket before heading downstairs for the Great Hall, where the headmaster would no doubt be after the time his side trip had taken.

A couple people gave him odd looks as he headed down the stairs. There were no smiles or greetings for anyone, as was his habit, just stony resolve as he worked to continue to sooth the memories in his mind. His feet carrying him on autopilot while his mind raced, memories, thoughts, plans, all racing through his head. Thankfully, Hogwarts seemed to support his movements, so none of the staircases he was on began to move until after he'd moved off them, to the landings below.

He made his way through the open doors at his destination, stepping into the Great Hall.

James glanced at the tables, his late start, and errand, had given time for most of them to fill up. So many faces, familiar, yet not. People he knew, had memories of, old and young, others he'd just heard tale of, or just seen pictures, wizards and witches that hadn't lived more than another decade.

He saw McGonagall look up at his entrance, her lips thinned. Her hair may have been a little darker than his memories, but not by much. James and Harry both had long learned to read his head of house and the signs of displeasure on her face. He made no effort to shy away as he strode through the hall toward the head table.

It was only a habit of James' that caused him to pause. A glance at the Gryffindor table saw the Marauders in their normal seats. Sirius, Remus and Peter. Memories assaulted him and he froze mid stride.

Sirius, haggard and in rags, on the edge of madness after a stay in Azkaban. Sirius smirking and joking, calling him James, before being hit with a spell and falling into the Veil of Death.

Remus, weary and tired after a transformation but cheering him on as he conjured mist from a patronus. Remus' dead body lying not far from where he currently sat, right next to the dead body of his wife, after the final Battle at Hogwarts.

Peter.

Peter transforming from a rat and sniveling for his life, pitiful, and apologizing for betraying the Potters. Peter casually killing an innocent Cedric Diggory.

James closed his eyes again and just barely managed to keep his magic under control, his hand rising, of its own volition, rubbing the scar Harry had carried since Peter had stolen his blood that horrendous day. The day he had helped give his master a new body and unleash a second reign of terror. A scar that was no longer there. A tremble ran through the benches on either side of him as James clamped down on his surging emotion and magic.

When James opened his eyes, he couldn't help the glare he briefly shot at Peter, though he wasn't close enough for them to figure who it was aimed at.

He clenched his jaw and picked up his stride again, keeping his head faced resolutely forward, and eyes locked on the head table.

He didn't even spare Lily a glance, only catching her out of the corner of his eyes, she was sitting further down, next to Frank Longbottom and his girlfriend, and likely soon to be betrothed, Alice Burke. Two people Harry knew only as vegetables, even worse off than Lockhart after his obliviate backfired on him. James shook his head, he couldn't get lost in memories, not now.

"Hey mate, everything okay? You're… late…" Sirius started to say from his position at the table as James had passed them. There was concern on his face as he had seen James' brief expression of anger.

That James had barely glanced his way just cemented the fact that everything was absolutely not okay.

Lily didn't bother hiding her anger as she glared daggers at James as he passed where she had placed herself, next to Alice. James walked right past them all, without any sort of acknowledgement, right up to the head table, his eyes forward, his jaw firm and set.

"Mr. Potter, I understand there was some trouble this morning," Albus Dumbledore said in lieu of greeting, with concern in his expression.

Just briefly, James was assaulted with the memory of an older Albus Dumbledore, tired, exhausted after the efforts of an evening that included him ingesting a potion that would make him relive his worst memories, then standing there in the tower, letting Snape toss a killing curse at him. Not just letting him, but pleading with the potions' master. With an effort that was getting a little easier, James shook off the memory and focused on the older wizard.

"I quit." James said bluntly. The Great Hall went absolutely silent as most people listened in raptly at possible morning drama. Nothing entertained school children more than the possibility of something to gossip about.

"That is what I heard," Dumbledore replied calmly, looking completely unruffled, though his response was polite, if a bit curious. "You realize that giving up the position of Head Boy is not a decision made lightly... And that if you truly resign from the position you will need to give up the quarters of the Head Boy?"

Even as he was asking the question, Albus was looking at the boy in front of him. His brows drew upward as he looked at the expression on James' face. Something was different; there seemed to be a struggle to manage his emotions. And a feel of magic around him...

James hadn't been like this at the Welcoming Feast. Still, something must have upset him, because Dumbledore felt the boy's magic, which was an obvious sign of how agitated he must be. Dumbledore noted that the young man before him seemed more than a little upset, both emotionally and magically.

There was an instant murmur through the hall at Dumbledore's response, people quickly realizing this didn't seem to be some sort of prank. Head Boy was the kind of prestigious position that you don't just quit, and certainly not like this, at breakfast, before even the class schedules had been given out. Murmurs broke out through the hall, speculation on why would he have even bothered accepting if he was going to quit on his first day?

"You misunderstand, Headmaster." James replied, cutting off the older man's thoughts, the hall was quiet once more as the assembled students listened with baited breath.

"Oh?" Albus quirked his eyebrow slightly.

"I don't quit the Head Boy position. I quit everything. I quit Hogwarts." He said, with no visible change to his resolute face. The playful grin they expected to come, with a declaration that this was some prank, never came, if there was anything to be seen, it was suppressed anger lurking behind his hard eyes.

The entire hall fell silent and even those who had managed to pretend apathy now gave up any pretense of not listening to what he was saying.

McGonagall responded with a sharp inhale of air and she wasn't the only one, there was almost a collective intake of breaths and more than one person's hand shot to their mouth. Someone quitting Hogwarts? That… almost never happened.

It caught Dumbledore completely off guard. His eyes widened, and he sat forward more attentively, "I'm sorry… what?"

James shook his head, as his resolve hardened, straightening up, he spoke again, "Headmaster Dumbledore, I'm formally notifying you that I am hereby withdrawing from Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Instantly the tie that James was wearing lost the red and gold of Gryffindor colors that adorned it.

"Mr. Potter… James… I realize you're going through a rough time right now. I was good friends with your parents, but that's no reason to run away from the completion of your education, not to mention your friends who you should lean on in these troubled times." Dumbledore tried to reach the boy with logic and not overreact, his mind supplying the only event he could think of that could have caused this. However what could possibly have come up between the previous night and this morning left him at a loss.

James hesitated. A part of him, a small part of him was tempted to talk to the headmaster. After all he knew things from the future and could warn the man, relaying to him as much information as possible, as soon as possible, on what is to come.

But another part of James, a part that was buffered by Harry, his opinions and personality, realized that the stakes had changed. Things were different. He had defeated Voldemort. He had fought a war, and a number of dark wizards since. He was no longer going to be the obedient student that was hidden away until he had a role to play, one that culminated with him accepting his own death.

No, he would not accept being sidelined when he had other options, a part of him was an accomplished auror and he wouldn't be dancing to anyone else's tune.

"It's done, Headmaster. Thank you for my time here." James finally stated formally.

"Mr. Potter…" Dumbledore began to protest, standing up, only to rock back slightly as James whirled and fixed him with a glare.

"I have better things to do than school." James snapped. He wanted to say more, but as he wasn't sure what he was going to do yet, he simply turned and headed out of the Great Hall, he needed to get away before his fraying control snapped.

The part of him that had been Harry had just learned, had just seen, all of his friends, all of those he considered family, were dead. Murdered. Butchered. Charred. Corpses. He'd been betrayed by his own bloody colleagues and ripped from his world. He'd seen the dead piled in the Great Hall, after the Battle of Hogwarts, he'd seen numerous crime scenes, magical accidents, gore, brutality and death.

But all this? Everything a part of him had just been through? James could only shove it to the side for so long, he could only hope to contain it for a brief period of time before everything he was suppressing burst out of him, the results could be, would be, deadly if his control snapped in the middle of the Great Hall. He had to get away and hadn't wasted any time. He was quickly striding out of the hall.

Dumbledore was at a loss. It was too abrupt a change. But there was no sign of being controlled, certainly no flatness of emotions someone under the imperious might show. Something else was going on here and, whatever it was, had clearly set the boy off. He only hoped James didn't do something too rash in his current state of mind.

Unfortunately, there was nothing Dumbledore could say. James had passed his OWLS and he was an adult, if anyone could have persuaded him to stay it would have been the vivacious redhead at the table, or his fellow pranking cohorts.

James saw the stunned looks on the Marauder's faces as they stared at him.

Of course they weren't the only ones. Practically everyone in the hall was. James idly noted that Lily Evans was looking like she had been slapped.

He tried not to think about that and how that had hurt. Given his hope to prove to her he was worthy of her this year… or given that he might have just stopped his son? Himself? Part of himself? from being born.

Wasn't that just a complete mindfuck?

He shut his eyes and focused on what he needed. James pushed through the doors of the hall and headed out on the grounds, intending to get past the gate, the brisk pace of his feet contacting the stone floors echoing through the quiet hall before fervent whispering broke out behind him.

It only partially surprised Dumbledore when a few moments later he found himself face to face with Sirius Black.

"I formally withdraw too, Headmaster." Sirius said, not even finishing the statement before he was turning and practically sprinting after James out of the hall. He didn't even give Dumbledore time for a response.

James was walking down the path, his mind reflecting on all sorts of memories, figuring out his next step. Knowing so much about the wizarding world he was brought up in, combined with the future he was brought up in as well, had him figuring out so many things he wanted to do, and he wasn't going to wait to do them.

He needed to get away and think. He was obviously going to do everything possible to cripple Voldemort and his forces… And this time he had one advantage. They weren't going to be expecting it. But the one thing Harry had learned was that it wasn't going to be enough!

He tensed as he heard the sound of running feet behind him, his wand slipped into his hand, but James found himself mostly unsurprised as he turned around to find Sirius sprinting to catch up with him.

Part of him was surprised that it was just Sirius. The other part, who knew of Peter's betrayal and Lupin's inattention through almost all Harry's formative years was not. Sirius' expression was one of pure worry, "Prongs, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

James looked on the man who was his best friend since he was eleven, and the godfather he only got to know after his stint in prison until he died fighting in the Department of Mysteries. James hesitated a moment and looked down, before looking back up and meeting the other man's eyes.

"I'm leaving Hogwarts, Padfoot."

"Yeah, I got that! Why?" Sirius demanded, "Did Lily turn you down again?" He said the last one in an attempt at humor but Sirius only managed a weak smile that faltered when James' grim expression didn't change.

"No," he shook his head, "I've got more important things to do than... quidditch and homework and..." James said, gesturing toward the castle behind them, trying to generalize his statement.

"Like what?" Sirius demanded, disbelief on his face as he was trying to figure out what his friend was up to.

"There's a war going on, the Dark arse is winning." James responded bluntly. "And our society is practically built to let him win!"

"What do you think you're going to do about it?" Sirius demanded, lifting his chin.

"Going to fight back." James replied, his fists clenching while the tentative hold on his fury was threatening to finally give out as he tried to push the pictures of the burned out Burrow and the remains of his loved ones, let alone all the emotional issues that he had just being back at Hogwarts.

Just being in the Great Hall, where so many, some… had… would... also give their lives in a futile attempt to stop the madman's reign of terror.

No! It would never come to that again, James thought, his fingernails pressing into his hands, almost drawing blood. No Great Hall filled with mourners, lined with bodies and having a partially caved-in roof that would never have Rowena's breathtaking charm on it again.

"How? Joining the aurors? They won't accept you without NEWTS…" Sirius trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

James snorted, "Hardly, the Aurors are getting their arses handed to them and are as scared as anyone else… All while they help prop up a broken and corrupt government in which half the people in charge don't support the dark arsehole only because that means someone other than them would be in charge… not because they disagree with his dogma!"

"No, I'm going to fight back my own way, and I'm not going to do it by playing by their rules." He said obliquely, turning and heading toward Hogwarts' gates.

"I'm coming with you." Sirius said instantly, falling into step beside him.

James stopped and crossed his arms as he regarded Sirius, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea…"

Sirius briefly looked betrayed before he narrowed his eyes, "Why not?"

James met Sirius' narrowed eyes with his own, as a memory of Harry's flitted through his mind, tying to James' own recent pain, his anger surged again. "Because the first thing I'm going to do is visit your parents."

"My parents? Those twats? Why?" Sirius demanded, now outright confused.

"Because I think my parents didn't die to dragonpox, they were cursed." James sneered. "It was your mother that cursed them."

It was a fact he would never have found out. But, while hiding out in Grimmauld place, during his… Harry's seventh year, he had perused the books in the house, including the journals of a Walburga Black.

"How do you know?" Sirius asked.

"Long story… I just put it together." James answered, looking away, not having a good lie to come up with on the spot, and he certainly wasn't going to mention the mess that was his head.

Sirius looked taken aback for a few moments at that statement, then snarled, "You're certain?"

"Nearly," James dipped his head slowly before raising his chin and repeating the motion once more. "I'd planned on… dropping by and asking her." James replied. That was a bit of a lie. He wasn't absolutely certain, the journal he had read claimed responsibility for it and he would deal with the murderer of his parents, she wasn't going to get away with it again.

Walburga had been exceptionally proud of being able to pull it off at a social event during the summer solstice celebration.

Though a journal wasn't concrete proof, the worst case was that he was wrong and took out his pent up aggression on someone oh so highly deserving of any harm that came to her.

"You know she probably won't answer if you confront her," Sirius said, how that conversation would go dawning on him.

"Good. I wasn't planning on asking nicely." James responded with a smile that lacked anything resembling humor.

Sirius watched his friend's expression and raised his eyebrow, "And then what are you going to do? Try and get the Wizengamot to put her on trial? Might be a stretch even though your parents were purebloods..."

"Maybe I'll burn the Ministry to the bloody ground as well then," James curt voice bit out, though he wasn't sure if it was Harry or James or both that actually thought the words. He took a breath and turned to stride toward the gates to get away from Hogwarts, get away, to get to a space he could think.

He did not expect Sirius to fall into step beside him once more.

"Sounds like fun," Sirius said nonchalantly.

James just snapped. He stopped and whirled around to face his friend, his face set in a scowl, he grabbed the front of Sirius' shirt, now also unadorned by house colors.

He pulled Sirius to face him and met the shorter man's gaze, "This isn't a bloody game, Padfoot!" His voice was harsh, catching his friend off guard, as it was still full of rage, partly at being here and knowing all sorts of things that were struggling for precedence in his mind. He barely realized his magic flaring with his anger.

"People are going to bloody die." James pushed Sirius away as he released the front of the other man's shirt, causing Sirius to stumble back as he caught his footing just in time to keep from falling onto his butt.

James heaved a deep breath, to gather himself once more, turned away and said quietly, "Only this time, with any luck, it will be Voldemort's followers that do the dying. And the fucking Ministry and Wizengamot as well if… or rather when they get in my way." He added, muttering it more for himself than Padfoot's benefit.

Sirius only hesitated a moment before meeting James' eyes, "I'm good with that."

James stared at Sirius, who met his eyes unflinchingly and without the slightest sign of hesitation. After a few moment's indecision, James sighed. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk Sirius out of it. Most of him didn't even want him to. He nodded slightly and turned once more toward the gate as Sirius fell into step again. James didn't actually stop walking when he spoke up again, "We'll probably end up wanted men."

Sirius smirked slightly at James' comment, "If I leave you to it, who knows what sort of trouble you'll get into without me there to bail you out. Besides… I'm a Black. I am probably doomed to early death, or Azkaban anyway."

Sirius' partially amused expression turned grim, missing the flinch on his friend's face at the last comment, "Also, your parents did more for me in the past few years than mine ever did. They gave me a home. If my parents had something to do with it, I won't let their deaths go unavenged." His voice was grim, his jaw set and determined.

"You sure about this, Padfoot?" James asked once more, giving him another opportunity to not get involved in the mess he was intending to stir up.

"I'm not about to let my best friend and brother, in all but blood, do this alone." He shrugged his shoulders, "If you're serious about this, I'm with you all the way."

After a few moment's pause, during which James' solemn eyes glanced over at his friend, he replied, "Not going to say it."

Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically, and grinned, "You thought about it though."

James rolled his eyes, as well, as they walked through the gates of Hogwarts. He could feel it after they'd gotten a distance past the gate, the moment they stepped out of the anti-apparition wards. Without preamble he reached out and set his hand on Sirius' shoulder and disapparated them both with a soft crack.

Neither noticed the three people who had come out of the doors of the castle just as they disappeared. Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, Frank Longbottom, and Lily Evans emerged just in time to watch as the two men disappeared.

Emerging out of the apparition, Sirius stumbled as they appeared in front of a manor. He had been surprised by the suddenness of it, and hadn't braced himself for the movement.

"You've gotten better at that!" Sirius muttered as he shook himself and straightened up, unsurprised to find himself at Potter Manor

James chuckled wryly, "I've had practice." He motioned Sirius on, "C'mon we have some things to do."

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

James had put the wards on full lockdown the instant they'd gotten into the manor. He had denied access to everyone in the book of guests save himself and Sirius. He had even removed Peter without the slightest bit of hesitation, and Lupin after only a moment. Even Dumbledore had been removed.

Sirius had declined to ask James why. He was familiar with his friend's moods and could tell that James was upset about something but didn't want to talk about it quite yet. Sirius knew if he just had the patience to bide his time James would eventually be ready to talk about it.

Then in a move that further surprised Sirius, James had summoned the three Potter elves and asked them if they could add to the magic of the wards, to not let any other house elves to come onto the property without permission. Sirius had never thought about the concern of house elves to come and go and wondered if James was being paranoid.

However James had given Sirius the task of making some potions, supplying them with a few necessities that they might need. Harry's memories came from remembering to always take advantage of downtime to stock up and prepare. While Sirius was not the potioneer of Snape or Lily, he was more than competent. Sirius also knew he was being brushed off for a bit, but he didn't complain, knowing his friend sometimes needed time to process whatever had him so worked up.

James was grateful for his friend not demanding to know what was on his mind at that moment. He wasn't even certain he would know where to start, or manage to explain it without Sirius deciding he needed to be locked up. He needed time away and alone.

James couldn't hold it back much longer.

He went directly to his father's study. Then, from that study, through another door that he shut firmly behind him. He then headed down a set of stairs into a small stone cellar, to the second most warded room in the house. It was warded to protect whatever happened inside so no one could hear or tell what happened inside. He had been shown it when he was eight years old. His father had told him a magical bomb could go off in there without anyone being the wiser and he was never to enter the room if someone was inside without getting permission.

It wasn't a room that was made use of often. It was nearly empty save from some cheap statues and vases that were along the wall along with plain chairs and tables. He knew they were cheap because they were disposable anad meant to be inside the room and thus the reason they were left in there. The room was only used to let off steam in a household where people are magical and the loss of your temper could have unfortunate effects. James could recall his father had only used the room only a handful of times, and his mother probably a dozen times while he was growing up.

He had only been here twice. But he knew he needed it now.

It was a close thing as he could no longer shackle his emotions, his magic, his unquenchable anger. With a final act of control, he flicked his wand and quickly added an extra seal to the door. He dearly hoped the warding on the room was as strong as his father had claimed. It would be protecting the home from his magic and keeping the volcanic eruption he was about to experience known to him, and him alone.

James sunk to his knees, his control fraying faster than he could bring it under control. His hands rose to his head, gripping his hair as a scream of absolute agony ripped out of his throat, his head back as he screamed to the heavens.

The Burrow. Ashes. Harry's remaining friends... family. Dead. Charred. Corpses.

James' wife dead, shortly after him, and his infant son consigned to a miserable upbringing.

Betrayed. Torn from his world.

He'd won. He'd destroyed the horcruxes. He'd given his life. He'd been hunting down the scum that had bowed before the bastard who had dared to call himself a Lord.

Everything James would hope from in his life, marrying the girl he loved, raising a family, watching them grow. Their children being happy and pursuing their own lives. His son had walked to his own death!

All that. Everything in his life. In both of their lives Every achievement. Every single sacrifice he'd made, others had made for him. Gone. Oblivion. They didn't exist, not here, not now.

He couldn't contain his grief, his fury, his magic. He bowed his head, his eyes tightly shut, and his muscles taught and flexed. Magic swirled around him, a tornado, a hurricane. It churned, it whirled. The cheap vases and busts around the room didn't stand a chance, not just broken but shattered. Debris flew around him as every part of him screamed in agony.

Everything was gone. Would be gone.

Tears streamed down his face, flashes of his friends from both sets of memories face flying through his mind. Their sacrifices in vain. Their lives lost, for nothing.

The Wizarding World hadn't changed. Wouldn't change. James had never truly faced it and Harry had deluded himself. They hadn't won with Voldemort's second fall. They'd excised off the wart, the obvious problem, only to allow the roots to endure, growing, and remaining entrenched under the surface.

That was a future that could never be allowed to come again.

As if that resolution was the catalyst, the whirlwind of magic had begun to dissipate, shunted into the wards protecting the grounds and manor, as James could feel himself finally center. He took a deep breath, his eyes still shut but his hands now resting on his thighs. His emotions were ebbing, his fury had hit it's apex. Now, it was once more cooling to a cold, controlled fury. The pain and anger, those memories caused, would never just leave. But now they were no longer raging out of control.

He finally opened his eyes and took in the state of the room. The largest of the debris, the pieces of wood from the small tables and shelves that had held the statues and vases, were strewn across the floor.

His fingers found his wand, familiar and slightly different at the same time.

He called upon his magic and re-enacted a spell Harry had seen Dumbledore employ before, after his son had a similar emotional explosion in the Headmaster's office. With an elaborate and a large sweeping motion of his wand the room began to sort itself out again. Debris reforming, splintered wood becoming a part of the whole again. Furniture found itself rebuilt, statues and vases reassembled as if magic had not torn them asunder,

The strength of the spell surprised and pleased James. Powerful, willful, his magic eagerly answered his call. With finesse and control he conducted it, all the minute details to perfection. For the first time since he had been in this room, a smile graced his lips.

He no longer felt like he was two different people trying to deal with each other's memories and convoluted the reality of the situation. He could feel himself settling. He was one being. Yes, made up of two, but they still made one whole, he didn't feel a conflict battling for control or precedence in his mind.

He was James but he was also Harry, his memories, his experiences and even his magic. A greatly increased magic. He could feel the difference, a bubbling of power that James had never experienced before.

James had always been talented. He was confident, or arrogant, enough to claim that. But he was also honest enough to admit to himself that he wasn't magically strong. It was something his mother had sat down and told him years before he had gone to Hogwarts. He was on the lower side of average in comparison to most wizards when it came to magical power.

Dorea had been a Black and magical power was very important to that family. She had told him that if he wanted to make something of himself magically, and maximize his potential, he would have to learn focus and control far more than his classmates. It was either that or accept being average. That hadn't been at all appealing to James, and the way his mother had practically made it sound like a curse, just cemented his view.

With tutors, and his parent's help, he'd honed his skills and found his calling. Transfiguration was his nature, requiring the focus and control he had worked on. It fit his mind too, it was creative, adaptive, and fun. It encapsulated him, who he was. It was a reason that pranks were attractive to him as well. In many ways they required the same skills. They took finesse, skill, planning and, above all, creativity. Transfiguration was the same, taking the ordinary, the mundane, and remaking it, reshaping it like clay to something you visualized, imagined.

But Harry's personality and his magic had never been that. He had some inherited skills and a bit of competence in the art of transfiguration but he was never the prodigy that McGongall had still raved about years after his father's passing, nor was it his go to when he needed to use magic. Harry's strength was not the same creativity or focus; it had always been his indomitable will. James knew exactly where Harry got that trait. Lily was the exact same, and Harry's memories had proven that. Will enough to create a way to help her son survive a dark lord.

Unlike his mother, Harry was not the greatest student. Nor was he the most focused and academically inclined. However, no matter what life threw at him, he would not bow and he would not break. No matter the odds, no matter the foe, he did not back down, willingly laying down his own life, though, if that was needed.

It was the sort of will and courage that legends were made of.

Just like his mother. James thought. He wondered once more if his decision today had completely erased any chance at Harry's existence. That bothered James far more than it bothered his Harry side. That side of him would make the swap in a heartbeat if it helped any of his friends. James was actually even more bothered by that sentiment.

With James' perspective he could see it was in part due to the circumstances in Harry's life that had forged that will as well as that willingness to sacrifice himself.

But with that will came an immense amount of magic… magic that seemed to respond to Harry's call, to his need, rather than simply structures of spells and James' specific focus. His defiance, his unbreakable spirit, had dragged him to greatness. His magic was forged in a crucible of necessity. Patchwork lessons, skills developed in the field, the equal of the Dark Lord through sheer will and bullheaded stubbornness.

Now though, as he allowed himself to feel something, besides the anger and hurt that had been so fresh and consuming, the combination was startling. Magic yearning for action, an angry cauldron stirred up, bubbling over, excited, demanding release.

The power of Harry. The mentality for detail in transfiguration and focus of James. The command and connection to magic of the son. The finesse and skill of the father.

Slowly unifying and settling into one being in their mind. That left one person, with a focus.

He allowed himself to think rationally. Those that had yet to be born were not lost. Most of those who had been sacrificed were still alive and safe, for now at least.

Sirius was alive. Not with hollow eyes that had dimmed with a decade of torture. He'd never had to eat scraps to survive. He'd not lived in a cave and eaten rats. He would never allow Padfoot to step anywhere near the damn veil!

Lily was at Hogwarts. She hadn't sacrificed herself. Her brilliant mind was not lost to the world. Her vibrant spirit and fierce determination had not had the chance to face their adult society that would look down on her because of who she was born too. She had not sacrificed herself in order to protect their son from a Dark Lord who had an obsession with prophecy. She was still alive, safe at Hogwarts, and wasn't that weird?

Frank and Alice and Remus were at Hogwarts. Ted, Andromeda, Nymphadora, Arthur, Molly, Bill, they were all alive and well. His younger self's friends, most of them hadn't even been born yet. That meant their ends could be avoided.

Voldemort would die ; and two powerful wizards, obsessed with prophecy, wouldn't dictate his actions.

Voldemort's followers would find no mercy this time. There would be no second chances. There was no redemption. There would be no turning over of captives to the Ministry. No incarceration and breakouts from Azkaban. No chance for them to wage a second war and kill schoolchildren.

But then what?

Harry's own memories showed that he and his friends had won, he'd triumphed against insurmountable odds, and it had been a cadmean victory, but it had never paid off. He'd served the ministry, hunting Death Eaters and bagging dark wizards, first around the country, and then internationally, as his reputation grew.

Between himself and Hermione, he had pushed for reforms, even working to pass laws to prevent another Blood War. Laws that the entrenched society and the Wizengamot had fought tooth and nail against because it would limit their own power.

They even had the damn Minister of Magic on their side, with Kingsley taking the hat, and, yet, it wasn't enough. Too often laws were voted down and Kingsley had expressed his own frustration at his hands being tied. In retrospect, they achieved almost nothing.

James heaved a breath as he stood up. It wouldn't be enough. He just wasn't sure how to change things.

Still, standing there did him no good. It was time to plan and lay out what he knew, suspected, and go from there. Maybe inspiration would strike as he laid it out.

He stretched a bit, feeling a measure better after venting his emotion and magic. He made his way back up the stairs to the study, unsealing the door. He was surprised that it looked like it had held as he stepped back into the untouched study.

After a look around the study, he removed the portraits from the wall, including the portrait of his parents who were still asleep and might not activate for months. For just a moment he wondered what they might say if he told them, if he explained what happened and what he was currently dealing with. But after a few moment's hesitation he pushed that aside.

With a deep breath, he began to put Harry's… his knowledge now, onto the wall. His thoughts raced as he began his task.

Still he was distracted with the thoughts in the back of his head. How could someone end the corruption of an entire society? How could someone pull out roots that run that deep?

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

Sirius stared at the wall in James' parents' study. He had finished the potions, or at least gotten them to a point where they could be left to simmer and had gone looking for James, and had found him in the study.

He stood in the doorway observing his friend with a furrowed brow. Whatever had had James so upset, that he looked like he'd been ready to explode, at anyone and anything who looked at him wrong, had clearly settled. Though from the side, Sirius could see that James also had that look of focus on his face that told his friend that James was wrestling with a problem he hadn't figured out yet.

James hadn't even noticed him, and instead was staring at a large wall that had formerly held the sleeping portraits of his parents, and the Potter family crest. In their place were a bunch of names spread all over the wall with all sorts of lines between them. Sirius recognized most of them. Some were schoolmates, or parents of schoolmates. Some were underlined. Some had question marks next to them.

What Sirius was failing to recognize was what they all had in common.

There was that twat Snivellus on the wall. Regulus, his own younger brother, was there with it. Lucius Malfoy, who had graduated a few years before them and Sirius knew to be in discussions with his family for a betrothal to his cousin Narcissa, a sixth year. But Peter Pettigrew's name was there as well. Also, the weird Barty Crouch kid from the year below them in Hufflepuff.

But there were also the family names of a number of pureblood clans. Some of them were major families: Black, Malfoy, Rosier, Lestrange, Crabbe, Goyle, Yaxley, Avery, Greengrass; others were from purebloods who tended to be less front and center, Burke, Flint, Bulstrode, Hitchens, Bilshwick, Macmillian, Max, Gaunt, Gamp. All of the family names were in a wider circle around the names in the center.

"What's all this Prongs?" Sirius finally asked after studying the wall and wondering if James would finally open his mouth and tell him what had gotten into him.

James started slightly, turning to look at him before looking back at the wall. He let out a small sigh and wondered how much of an argument Sirius was going to put up about this. Still, he had to start somewhere. James gestured to the specific names in the center.. "These are all the people my parents or I suspected of being possible Death Eaters, based on suspicions and comments they overheard and observations they made."

"What?" Sirius frowned and came to stand beside the chair, peering more closely at the different names. "There is no way anyone suspected Barmy Barty of being a death eater. I know your mum didn't like Crouch at all. I doubt they've said more than two words to the boy."

James snorted slightly, "No, that suspicion was me. He acts awfully twitchy sometimes, and I know most people view him as this eccentric Hufflepuff... but... he doesn't show it but I've heard enough comments to know he hates his father and I've seen the way he looks at people."

"That's because his father is a giant arse," Sirius muttered as he watched his friend, he thought Barmy Barty's name might have been a bit of a joke, a prank, but there was nothing to indicate that, if that was the case.

"Not that kind of hate, Padfoot." James said, "I think it's as bad or worse than you and your mother."

Sirius took a moment to process that, before he moved on to another name, "Why… is Peter's name on this list?" he asked quietly, tensing.

James sighed a little bit, knowing this was going to be more difficult. "I… just have my suspicions." His voice was calm as he kept his eyes forward, focused on the wall.

Sirius recognized that James wasn't at all joking or messing with him. He moved away from the wall and sat down in the chair next to him. "What suspicions?"

James ran a hand over his face, knowing he'd have to take random things he remembered to at least sow doubt. "Peter has been acting… strange. And things aren't adding up." James said, buying time for his mind working to supply him with anything that was credible.

"Like what?" Sirius asked, crossing his arms, not letting James skirt around the question.

"Like… when we're out of school, frequently having to suddenly disappear to take care of his sick mother?" James said.

"She was always a bit sickly after she got that curse when Peter was an infant," Sirius countered

"Yes," James agreed, as he turned to look at Sirius, "But suddenly she has urgent needs for him to scurry off and get a potion he can't even name, and keeps getting better and then worse?"

"Prongs…" Sirius said carefully. "We're still in school, and he's a Gryffindor, and our bloody friend! He learned to be an animagus to help Remus!" There was a degree of warning to his words.

"That's another thing!" James jabbed a finger in Sirius' direction, "You remember! One day, he can't manage to transform so much as a paw or an ear, then he goes home for Christmas Hol's fifth year and comes back and is miraculously able to do it?" His voice conveyed just how believable he thought it was.

Sirius unfolded his arms, he had no response for that. He really had been as stunned as anyone else, when Peter had completed the transformation.

"And we know there have to be spies in the school." James went on, further making his case.

"We know that half of Slytherin are death eater wannabes, or will be's. That's why we made their lives so miserable." SIrius agreed, his unfolded arms falling to rest on the arms of the chair as he slumped back into the comfortable cushioning.

"Yeah but Slytherins wouldn't know the addresses of some of the muggleborn." James replied with a sigh, with foreknowledge of what Peter had done, he could now see discrepancies that he would never have agreed was evidence that his so called friend had been heading down that path for some time. It wasn't a spur of the moment betrayal, or even entrance, where death eaters had cornered him and he had to choose death or giving up the information. They wouldn't have known he was the secret keeper, they all thought Sirius was.

Sirius paused, his brows furrowing, "What… do you mean?"

James noticed his fists had balled, this wasn't the time to let anger cloud his head. He centered himself, again, and answered, "I mean how many muggleborns and their families were killed the past two summers?"

"I… don't know… Three? Four?" Sirius ventured the guess.

"Try nineteen." James said shortly, his face showing his abhorrence, some of it inflecting into his words.

"I don't remember that many being reported… and I don't remember that many people that disappeared." Sirius couldn't quite keep the doubt from his face, he wanted to believe his friend and his eyes darted left, then right, as he wracked his brain for anyone that might have been missing at the Welcoming Feast that would give credence to James' claim.

James couldn't help it, he snorted in disgust, "Like the Prophet cares if a few random muggleborn get killed for sport. You know better than that, Pads. And you probably don't remember some of the first and second years." The final thought caused Sirius to dip his chin in acknowledgement.

James rolled his head to the right, his chin dropping toward his chest so he was almost looking up at him, "My point, is how are those addresses getting to the Death Eaters?" His query came off as tired, as if he was weary having put the puzzle pieces together and he wasn't liking the picture it was going to conclude with.

Sirius was quiet for a bit, then said, "I can think of a few ways. The Ministry has records of attendance, enrollment, etc. Someone in Diagon Alley owl orders something, like Flourish and Blotts, etc. Finally, the book at Hogwarts that addresses everything. Any one of them wouldn't be all that hard to get ahold of and get addresses from."

James nodded, "So we have corruption, bad security, and espionage. Or combinations of them all… all of it likely still on-going. Some in the Ministry, some in Hogwarts, some in the commercial areas."

"Lotta ground to cover to find the leak… or plug all the leaks," Sirius groused, his lips protruding toward his flaring nostrils after he spoke.

"The ministry barely pays lip service to fighting the Dark Arse. I told you, my issue isn't just with him, but this entire system. But… with Peter? My thought was that there was a huge rise in those muggleborn killings after last Christmas Hol's." James said his voice barely above a whisper, "Families without many connections, that could disappear without a huge fuss... Like you said, you noticed three? Four?"

Sirius' eyes were wide at the thought, "But that doesn't me-"

"And how many people knew Lily's friend, Mary Macdonald and her family were going to be staying with her grandparents this past summer when they were attacked there?" James interrupted.

Sirius peered at James, "Not many, I didn't even know that." That… that caught his attention.

"She mentioned something about it as where they were going to be hiding during the summer, when Lily came by to scold us on the train back home at the end of last year and you were busy… 'saying goodbye' to that 7th year ravenclaw." James said, his expression unflinching as he stared into Sirius grey eyes. "And that plan isn't something that would be registered with the Ministry, and Mary certainly wouldn't have just announced it to all and sundry. Only Lily, Remus, Peter and I heard her mention that."

Sirius frowned and looked between the wall and James as his mouth worked but no sound came out.

James shrugged and held up his hands, "I'm not saying I'm certain. I just… you remember how we figured out about Remus? We just added up the inconsistencies. I did the same thing here and… too many things don't add up. I didn't like the picture and until I know one way or the other, I won't trust him." His arms fell heavily on the arms of the chair.

"That's why he's up there on the wall with a question mark. I'm not sure." James allowed, his lips making a thin line. It was true, he wasn't positive Pettigrew was a traitor yet.

"When you put it like that, it's like practically the entire world's against us." Sirius said, not making light of the situation. "Next you'll be suggesting Dumbledore might be a problem."

James sighed briefly, but didn't respond otherwise.

"Oh come on, if you think that, you've gone completely off your rocker Prongs." Sirius protested, throwing up his hands and giving his head a quick shake, his eyes staring at the roof as he did so.

James held up his hands, "He's obviously not a Death Eater or anything like that. But I don't think he'd be much help."

"Why not?" Sirius was quick to question, shifting forward.

"Because he doesn't seem to have the conviction to fight this war." James started out carefully, not wanting to crush Sirius' naivete, all at once but knowing that he didn't have much choice. "If he's as powerful and such a force as everyone thinks he is, he'd be out leading the fight regularly, speaking loudly, publicly against it. Or he would do something about the mess that was the Ministry."

That was something that James knew had confused Harry and his own reflections. Dumbledore never seemed to use the power his reputation, skill and reputation garnered him. He never pushed in public for anything. He remained on the sidelines almost completely when it came to public perceptions. He was the Chief Warlocks, Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of a prestigious school, and yet, as far as Harry had been able to tell, he used none of those positions or his fame to even lay the groundwork for long-term the betterment of society.

Sirius slumped back into his chair. Unable to argue with that point either. He looked up at the daunting list of people, taking it far more seriously than he did the first time.

"You can still back out Padfoot," James said softly. "We could die doing this. And I don't want you to lose your life.." Again, he thought bitterly, the memory of Sirius falling through the Veil. After spending 12 years in Azkaban.

"Not happening. Not letting you get into this alone. I was just thinking… that if we're gonna start cleaning things up… my parents really are as good a place as any." He finally said, "Besides, you'd never get through the wards without me."

James chuckled softly, "I've done a lot of research into wards. You'd be surprised. I may also have a trick or two up my sleeve."

Sirius regarded him, "You're just full of surprises."

James smiled bitterly, "You have no idea."

"I don't know, I think I know you pretty well Prongs, ol' boy." He reached over and gave him a soft shove with his left arm.

James smiled at the camaraderie from his friend and smiled ruefully. Sirius did know him, he just wasn't that person anymore, not fully, anyways.

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

His mind had been spent, he hadn't been able to stare at the names on the wall any longer. No miraculous plans had come to his mind, on how to resolve the issues he was facing. The problem had been too large, too convoluted, and what his son had tried before, defeating the Dark Lord and then changing the system from within, was not going to work.

The solution though, still eluded him. But he had known he couldn't dwell on that. Continuing to sit in a room, brooding and staring at a wall while the wheels churned without any momentum being built up had only been helpful in the sense that it settled his mind further and made him more at ease with two perspectives melding into one. Still, he couldn't just sit around for long.

After a quick dinner, served by the house elves, It had been time for action. James had gone to his parent's room, someplace Sirius hadn't thought he'd gone since his parent's deaths.

James had quickly dug into a trunk that had always been in the room, but Sirius had never seen it opened. James had removed two folded up bundles and had pushed one to Sirius' chest.

"These were my... parents during the Great War. Put that one on. You might need it tonight." James had said.

Sirius had been taken aback. It was a uniform of dragonskin, something only used for heavy combat. They were exorbitant, expensive and, most of all, rare. Sirius had held it up, and had noticed the dark scales that appeared more black than green until light was shone on it. He had narrowed his eyes, both arms in front of him, and had held up the armor so he could inspect it, "Is this your mother's?"

"You're smaller than I am. It should mold to fit. Deal with it." James had snarked, a faint hint of Prongs finally showing.

They had been preparing stocking and turning Potter Manor into more of a war-time residence than the prestigious and comfortable family home Sirius had always known it to be. Their existing stock of Potions had been stocked up, Sirius' forthcoming work would add to them, their armor had been found, tried on and had been brought out of mothballs. Ward stones, magical artifacts, wrist holsters and, really, anything that could possibly be of use had been brought forth and set in place. Sirius was hardly surprised at this point as James seemed to have jumped in with both feet.

Where James and the Potter elves had found everything mystified Sirius, he'd spent years here and had never suspected the Potters had such things, least of all the amount of them. The afternoon James had blown Sirius away, and had him wonder just how long his friend had been thinking about this. Between the wall and the preparations, Charlus and Dorea had either coached James', had planned this, or had discussed plans enough for James to have an idea of things that may be useful.

What had thrown him off even more had been that James hadn't been kidding when he had said they were hitting Grimmauld. But James had broken it down further as to what they were going to be doing that very evening. It had helped to narrow it down, in Sirius' mind, his parents must have been working with James, how else would he have had such thorough knowledge to undertake all this?

James had urged going tonight, in order to get any jump of surprise possible on his parents. Though, Sirius had just wondered why he had been worried about a damn house elf. Enough that upon entering the house it would be their most pressing concern.

Of course this had all been predicated on his parents not having locked him out of the house wards.

James had seemed relatively sure that wasn't going to be an issue. Sirius had spent time completing his potions, particularly the blood replenisher, numbing potion, and skelegro potions, as their brewing process required a few hours, and he had been further slowed down by doing all simultaneously while trying to keep a handle on what James had been doing.

When he had the potions at their various simmering stages when he had gone searching for James once more. Something had changed about his friend, Sirius hadn't put his finger on it. He was certain it wasn't an imperius or a polyjuice. Too much time had passed in each other's company for it to be that. Not to mention the Potter elves wouldn't have been fooled and he wouldn't have been able to control any wards.

But James now just had a different presence. It had been on his mind until nerves drowned it out as they approached his family home.

"You sure about this Prongs?" Sirius asked one final time while fidgeting with his cloak.

James just nodded as he looked up at the house in front of them. No Fidelius charm hiding it. No surprise there, the charm was an ancient and obscure one. While people knew about it, being able to actually cast it was an entirely different matter.

Sirius peered at the childhood home he hated and had sworn he would never willingly step foot in again. He gulped one final time with a glance back at James who looked so certain. His wand held in his hand and his posture was certain.

He hesitantly reached forward and, with one final movement, gripped the doorknob on the house. If James was wrong about this Sirius knew he would be in a lot of pain, that is, if he was lucky… If he was unlucky... the wards would probably kill him, and not in a way that was instantaneous and somewhat merciful.

No, the Blacks were notorious for a reason. Their wards were placed with that very same mentality. One didn't risk intruding on them unless one was prepared to reap the consequences from the crazed minds of a family who kept the heads of their former elves as trophies, not to mention who had a library with books darker than their name.

There were compelling reasons for his trepidation but when his hand rested on the doorknob and he could feel the magic of the house react to his touch, it was too late to back out.

Mercifully, thankfully, It didn't do anything though beyond warm slightly under his hand. Sirius let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, in relief, as he deftly twisted the ornate knob and felt magic shoot through his body.

He instinctively tried to let go of the knob but his hand was held fast. Thankfully the magic subsided after a moment and the door opened smoothly.

Sirius stepped inside and beckoned for James to follow him, the possibility for the worst case scenario had now passed. James smoothly stepped in, looking around cautiously as he warily entered into the foreboding home.

Sirius had cautiously entered and kept his eyes sharp, continually scanning for the slightest of movements. The place was dimly lit, though well cared for. It was a place of so many memories. It was a source of many memories that were best left forgotten for him.

James was lost in bad memories of his own, or rather, not his own. James had never stepped foot in the house before, but Harry had many memories of the place in the future. Surprisingly it only seemed slightly less sinister when it was cleaned and maintained, it was stately and screamed elegance, though James had a hard time feeling anything but foreboding within these walls.

Both were drawn out of their introspection by the popping sound.

"What does ungrateful trait-" Kreacher didn't even get a chance to finish his statement as he was hit with two stunners.

James had whirled the instant he'd heard the elf start talking. He knew from experience not to wait or give it a chance to get away. Sirius had done the same, though his reactions mostly had to do with James telling him they'd be stunning the houself and a deep seated desire to curse the blighter from the time he was a toddler.

"Well, that's a start. I always wanted to do that." Sirius muttered, looking down at the insensate elf.

James nodded, looking around warily for any sign that had attracted attention.

"They're probably in the library." Sirius said quietly, his wand up and wary. "This way."

Sirius led the way toward the library, a place that James was very familiar with, or, rather, Harry had been. Only he had seen it in disrepair, when it was dark and grim after suffering years of neglect. They came to the landing of the stairs and Sirius was almost pressing himself against the wall. No noise emanated from the stairwell and Sirius led the way, creeping closer.

Leading with his wand, he quickly poked his head out and surveyed the stairs. He looked back at James and shook his head, mouthing a 'nothing' before stepping into the landing fully. Silently they made their way up the stairs, their ears trying to listen for any noise while their feet softly treaded up, stair by stair.

Arriving at the top of the staircase they moved forward, slowly, carefully. As they approached the doors of the library, James stepped around Sirius, his wand up as he moved, no longer caring for stealth his feet were no longer silent as James took the lead.

"Kreacher, who was at the-"

James didn't wait for her to finish her statement; stepping into the room, he blasted her with a powerful stunning spell, his eyes not following her slumping figure, they roamed the room while his wand was pointed in the direction he looked, even as he scanned side to side.

Sirius hopped into the room, hot on James' heels, his heart nearly beating out of his chest, his wand swinging around, ready to defend against any further threats. His aim went toward his father's favorite chair, a stunning spell on the tip of his own wand when he noticed the fact that his father was slumped down, boneless and twitching, in said chair.

He clearly posed no threat but, before Sirius could say anything, a white spell connected with him, causing him to stop twitching and freeze completely as the petrification took effect.

"What was that for?" Sirius asked, surprised as the man had clearly posed no threat.

"Better safe than sorry." James replied shortly, his disposition grim and his eyes ablaze. "Bind them, and make sure to summon any magical items just to be safe." The demand was reasonable, sensible even, but this wasn't how they had treated those that they had subdued at Hogwarts. Petrify, or stun, them, bind them and that was it. Was this something else Charlus and Dorea had suggested to their son, before their passing?

Sirius didn't dwell on it too long, it was the work of a few minutes to tie them both up with incarcerous spells to chairs, separate from wands and several magical items.

They had to dispel the magic on Orion to unpetrify him but stunned him immediately.

James had to admit Walburga was still very attractive despite her age, and she definitely still had the air of "crazy vicious psycho bitch" he associated with her. "You want to get rid of the outer clothes?"

Sirius quickly declined. While Sirius may have preferred stripping a woman normally, it felt all kinds of wrong to do it to his own mother.

James had rolled his eyes, "Honestly. Magic, remember? Idiot." Though the comment was far more fond than angry. Then James hadn't bothered to touch her, and instead simply vanished her outer clothing. Sirius was abashed as he did the same to his father.

"Which one do we interrogate first?" Sirius asked James sheepishly, after finishing up with his father, his eyes darting between his stunned parents.

"Definitely your mother." James didn't hesitate as he replied, moving in front of her with his wand at the ready.

Sirius frowned, "You know… She's not likely to tell you anything, and I'm not sure there's any veritaserum in the house."

"I told you this morning, I wasn't planning on asking her nicely," James replied shortly, without sparing a glance at his friend, his brown eyes locked on the person of his focus.

"Ennervate," James whispered, standing back so that Sirius was the initial focus of attention of the woman.

Walburga started awake with a jolt, and it took her a moment to orient herself and realize that she was restrained quite heavily.

She looked up, "What is the meaning of this? KREACHER!" She shouted as she physically tested her restraints, her eyes crazed and a nasty snarl on her face.

"He's not going to be answering anytime soon." Sirius said far calmer than he was, garnering her attention once more.

"You! How dare you show your face here?" She demanded shrilly, her crazed eyes filled with vehemence. "Haven't you embarrassed this family enough?" She spat, spittle almost flying out of her mouth.

Sirius snorted, "Like that was a hard thing to do." His casual reply did not help calm her down.

"You are nothing but a shame! I cannot comprehend how you were born of my loins," Walburga spat, saliva actually leaving her mouth as her face colored with rage.

"Please never mention your loins in my presence again," Sirius grimaced, his hand lifting up to press against his forehead while actually shuddering dramatically.

"You are almost as bad as your mudblood loving bitch cousin!" Walburga replied with a snarl. "I don't know what you're here for, but nothing you take from this house will stay gone long. I'll simply have Kreacher retrieve it, after submitting this memory to the DMLE to press charges." She said with presumptive air of victorious gloating to her words.

"That's assuming we let you," Sirius replied with his own smirk on his face. He had dreamed of something like this, a scenario where his mother would be at his mercy. James made no comment about the eerie similarities in the expression on the faces of mother and son at that moment. But after finding the information in Harry's memories that morning he had definitely been considering what he was going to do.

"I'll burn through an obliviation or any other confundus charm sooner or later," Walburga said, her defiance coloring her tone. "You know that." If she feared her current predicament it did not show.

"Who said anything about that?" Sirius asked casually.

"You're a Gryffindor. Too bloody noble to scare me!" Walburga gloated, her chin jutting out in challenge.

"The rules have changed," James interjected for the first time, stepping into her line of sight and drawing her attention.

"Potter!" She yelled, "No surprise to find you with this failure! You're not going to scare me either."

Rather than taunt her back James took another step forward and pointed his wand at her, "Legilimens!"

Walburga only had time to gasp before James was in her mind. Unknowingly her son's gasp matched hers. James wasn't subtle or gentle, he just blasted into her mental shields full bore. He found himself faced with a shield of impressive skill. He didn't care, he blasted it with the full strength of his own probe.

The woman's shields cracked under the pressure before shattering like glass. Then James was in her mind, he could feel her shock and horror as he moved through with impunity. She attempted to expel him using any trick she knew. Problem was, he had seen all of them and more.

He knew he was causing her pain, but didn't care as he searched her memories. Anything that was any sort of lead or had information, regarding the Death Eaters, or Voldemort, was examined.

There was not even an attempt to be gentle or to spare her the pain of the intrusion. James used a skill that Harry had become quite proficient at. Torture from Snivellus in his 5th year, intrusions into his mind as early as his fourth year, and repeatedly being subjected to mental assault, not to mention partial soul possession, had made him the one of the most proficient practitioners in the field of mind arts; that was alive after the Second Blood War.

By this point, it wasn't even second nature, to him, it was his nature, full stop.

Finally, James was convinced he had found everything of any import, which was a surprising amount to him. There were many small details that she never would have put in her private journals. Locations, idle thoughts on others she suspected of being death eaters.

Finally he pulled out of her mind. James reached up and rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the dull headache that had formed, it was an annoying result of the power and precision he had to put out to work around her defenses..

Walburga's reaction was far stronger, she had groaned and slumped over, her entire body shaking.

James felt no sympathy. He had Harry's memories, knowing exactly how she felt after his own lessons with Snape. The wretch deserved this, and more.

"Bloody Hell Prongs," Sirius breathed seeing his mother's reaction, his eyebrows raised and his lips not fully closing, as he looked back and forth between James and his mother.

James waved off Sirius' concern with a dismissive movement of his hand. "I'm fine, let's wake up your father. I have a feeling that'll be a lot easier."

Sirius regarded him with a worried expression, his narrowed eyes closely scrutinizing his friend's body language. He had no idea where James had learned the mind arts. He had never even thought of asking if James knew them. He wondered if that was part of how James was so good at pressing the buttons of those they pranked in school. Big or small prank, he always seemed to have a knack for going where they were most vulnerable.

James seemed to examine Orion before looking over at Sirius. Sirius took the unspoken hint and moved forward, enervating his father. Rather than jerk awake, as Walburga had done, Orion Black groaned and slowly raised his head.

He blinked looking around slowly before his gaze settled on Sirius. He opened his mouth and then froze as a smile and a brief look of wonderment crossed his face.

"Thank you." Orion said with a somewhat hoarse voice.

Sirius frowned, squinting his eyes in confusion, whatever he had expected, from his cold and distant father, this was not it.

"For what?" He asked, unable to help himself.

"For freeing me," Orion replied looking around, his eye lids rapidly blinking a number of times.

"Er, you realize you're tied to a chair without a wand or anything else?" Sirius asked, perplexed, before he turned to look at James and flailed his arms dramatically, "I know my family is crazy, but that's pretty much the exact opposite of 'free' for most people. Merlin, people wonder why our family is known for the 'Black Madness'."

"Most people haven't been under an imperius for years." The man replied dryly, despite his son's dramatics.

Sirius blinked and exchanged a look with James.

"He's not lying." James spoke up, rubbing his temple again, "It was all there in the bitch's mind. Your mother started putting him under the imperius years ago. Enforcing commands. Not to resist, to agree with her. To do as she guided. To not tell anyone. It started not long after they married."

"I never noticed he was under the curse… I always thought he was just distant…" Sirius muttered, his wand hand dropping limply to his side.

"He might be," James replied with a shrug, "But a person under subtle imperius commands isn't always obvious, especially if commands are more general and just keep you from doing something."

Sirius shook his head and raised his wand, quite obviously to release his father only for James to grab his arm and push it upward so the finite went into the ceiling.

"What?" Sirius asked in confusion, pulling his arm back from James' grip.

"He was under the imperius, that does not mean he is on our side." James replied sharply, his eyes drifting back to the restrained man who was looking back and forth between the two of them.

"I'll get you for thi-" Walburga finally seemed to gather herself enough to say only to be silenced mid-sentence. James didn't even glance her way before stunning her.

There was no masking the brief bit of glee on Orion's face at that action.

James was uncertain what to do with Orion. He didn't know him much at all, and Harry only had some paperwork from him, hardly things to get an idea for someone. He hesitated as he considered his options, especially as he didn't know what the man would do now that he was free of the imperius.

Orion swung his head back and forth, still clearing some of his mind. He glanced between a confused Sirius and a thoughtful James, before focusing on his son, "What are you doing here? I know you should be in school…"

"We left school," Sirius responded and shrugged carelessly.

"Why?" Orion asked, "As much as I appreciate it, I hardly think you did it just to free me."

"We wanted answers." James replied, his expression hardening at the reminder as he leveled his gaze on the man once more.

"Answers? To what?" Orion asked, focusing on James.

"Whether or not Walburga was responsible for the death of my parents." James responded.

"Was she?" Orion asked quietly after a long pause.

"Yes." James replied shortly. Anger simmering near the surface, the odd effect of his blending memories coming to the forefront again. It was a weird feeling, on one hand the grief and anger from himself that filled him at the deaths of parents he had loved. On the other was a more distant and cooler regret to the passing of people he'd never had a chance to know. However, the confirmation that she had been responsible stoked the fires of his angers again. That the portrait that had hurled insults towards him… toward his son for years from that painting in Grimmauld had held this dark secret was enough to make him curse her with some creative curses he knew. Thankfully, the other half of him felt some distance from it, he had known the fact intellectually for years; so, it blunted his need to lash out in the moment.

"You have my apologies. Your parents were… good people, and I cared for your mother." Orion said with a bow of his head, which was still the only part of him that could move.

James just nodded, well aware of Sirius' eyes on him.

"Now what?" Orion asked after several moments' pause.

"Now we try and figure out what to do with you both." Sirius answered.

"No," James disagreed immediately. "Just you, Walburga has killed my parents. This is war and her life is forfeit."

"War, with whom?" Orion asked, not seeming to be bothered at all by the blunt declaration of killing. Instead he was studying Sirius and James alternatively with even more interest.

"You know who..." Sirius responded, his own voice grim. He glanced over at James, before shrugging, "Among others."

"You're going to… oppose the Dark Lord?" Orion asked, sounding completely stunned.

"No," James replied, drawing looks from both Sirius and Orion. "We're not going to 'oppose' him. My parents opposed him, and he had them cursed in secret because he wanted them out of the way. Your wife did it to curry a bit of favor with him by removing obstacles."

"The Ministry, the Wizengamot, they're all afraid of him. And the Dark Lord has everyone either paralyzed with fear, or secretly supporting this war in the shadows," James' voice was hard. "So we're going to take our fight into the shadows."

"We're going to start hunting them like they hunt muggleborn. We're going to make them wonder who they fear more, him or us, and have them wondering why he can't protect them." James said. "We're going to expose their entire movement for the sham it is, nothing but a bunch of terrorists."

"And when the Ministry moves to stop you?" The elder Black challenged, his eyebrows lifting.

"They can burn for all I care. The Ministry… our entire society is as much a problem as Voldemort is." James grit out, his jaw set and his hard eyes resolute. "They… well I have no patience for them either."

Orion hummed, acknowledging the words but did not comment on that, he let the silence between them stretch, for a moment, before turning his attention to his son. "Both of you?" He asked quietly, his gaze focused on his son.

"Where he goes, I go." Sirius replied instantly, his tone defensive, though Orion could see his son was still chewing on the words of his friend.

Orion regarded him steadily for several moments, silence filling the room as he stared, finally he said something Sirius had never heard from his parents before. "I'm proud of you, son."

Sirius looked gobsmacked.

Clearly Sirius had no reply to that, so James picked up. "The question is what to do with you. No offense but your wife murdered my parents. I'm not sure you wouldn't say anything to get out of your current predicament, and where you stand."

Orion regarded him before glancing at the unconscious form of his wife. "Are you really that good with legilimency?"

"Yes," James replied shortly, he wasn't willing to go into more details about where he acquired the skill.

"Then read me." Orion replied, he met James' eyes unflinchingly in mute challenge.

James didn't hesitate, raising his wand and casting the spell, diving into the man's head.

He made no attempt to fight James' probe, at least no conscious attempt, and, while there was still some natural resistance, it was nowhere near the level Walburga had put up. James was careful and thorough in his search before pulling out of the man's head.

"Alright," James stated after several moments of consideration.

With a wave of his wand he cast a finite on the older man causing his bonds to disappear.

"Prongs?" Sirius asked, his wand still pointed at the older wizard.

"It's alright Padfoot." James said, stepping back, "He's not lying. He might not agree with us, but he's very very pissed off. He hates what has been done to him and the only thing that matters in his mind is protecting what is left of his family."

Sirius lowered his wand slowly though he still watched his father cautiously. "Now what?" Sirius asked after a long pause, his eyes flicking over to James.

"Now, we're finished here," James said quietly.

"What about her?" Sirius asked gesturing toward the still insensate woman tied up.

"What about her?" James asked, his wand pointed at her and spat out a red spell, re-stunning the woman for good measure.

Sirius jumped slightly, "What are we going to do with her?" He glanced at Orion who was every bit as interested in what James was saying.

James never even looked at the woman, "She killed my parents. She's killed others and is nothing but a crazed fanatic worshipping at the foot of a genocidal madman."

Sirius' father nodded slowly, and then spoke again, though he didn't stand up, "I would kill her myself if you like."

"Father?" Sirius, whirled to look at him, his entire bearing one of disbelief.

"Believe me, she deserves that and so much more." Orion spoke, his voice tinged with anger as it seemed to gain strength. "Walburga tried to control the entire family, dragging us further into service of the Lord she worships. She has hurt members of our family. More than you know." Barely contained rage flashed in his eyes as he glared at her unconscious form.

Sirius frowned and tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

There was pure fury in Orion Black's voice as he spoke this time, "Her control and manipulations stole from me the power to make decisions in the family. Almost as importantly, she stole the ability of me to protest decisions being made by others."

Sirius looked puzzled, while James looked thoughtful.

"Your cousin's choice to marry the mudborn. I may not have been thrilled, but it was better than Lestrange pressing for her hand. I did not kick her out, but I could not stop Andi's father from doing so." Orion turned to look at Sirius, "However it infuriated your mother that she couldn't make me do the same to you."

Sirius didn't seem to quite understand.

"I always wondered…" James said slowly, understanding slowly dawning on his face.

That drew Sirius attention to James, "Prongs?'

James met Orion's eyes, but spoke to Sirius, "I always wondered, why you never got notification that you were removed from the family."

"I did get notification though," Sirius countered, "I got the howler in the Great Hall from Mother telling everyone that I was no longer considered a Black. Regulus told me she took great pleasure in blasting me from the tapestry."

"Exactly! She blasted you from the tapestry. That isn't the same as removing you from the family or the embrace of your family's magic." James said. "The tapestry is really just an artifact that can be used to keep track of anyone. In this case, your family. Blasting them off wasn't anything official." The thought of the Weasley clock doing much the same flitted through his mind.

Orion just nodded and watched James expectantly, with more than a little interest.

"She couldn't remove you from the family, only the head of the family can do that. And they have to do it under their own free will without any sort of magical compulsion or control at all. Otherwise it doesn't work, family magic rejects it." James explained, glancing at Orion for conformation.

"And she could never remove her control over me because she knew it would cause her problems." Orion agreed. "Oh so many problems."

"So… You're saying I'm still a Black?" Sirius said slowly.

"You're not just a Black, you are my heir." Orion stated with evident pride in his voice. "And... I am very glad that you are an heir that thinks for himself."

James couldn't resist a small smirk at the conflicting emotions on Sirius' face.

Sirius looked back and forth between Orion and James, seemingly lost for words before he gathered his composure and asked, "Now what?" His voice was suspiciously rough, while he processed his emotions.

Orion snorted, "Now, I do what is necessary to divorce her and then go take a shower and get a purging potion to clear myself of everything I have ingested."

"And we take her back to Potter Manor, and lock her in the dungeon." James added, "I'm not sure but we may have use of her later, and even if she's about to be divorced, she's still a Black and I will not have her under family wards she might have managed to subvert."

"She won't be a Black much longer either." Orion interjected, glaring at her unconscious form, "I'm going to cast her from the family."

James narrowed his eyes in thought before looking up, "I would be grateful if you held off on that for a little bit. We may have use for her as a Black and I'd hate to lose an opportunity, because we were too impulsive."

Orion regarded James for a long moment, before nodding slowly. "I'm still in for an unpleasant few hours with a purging potion."

James twisted his lips, "I'm fairly certain she wouldn't have kept a potion like that lying around. If you like we probably have some in statis in Potter Manor. You may join us there, while I take great pleasure in tossing her in the dungeons."

Orion grinned, for the first time showing genuine amusement, "I'd like that."

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

"Well, we've got the house elves moving most of the library over here," Sirius said as he re-entered the study, dressed in relaxed clothing after a shower, his hair still a bit damp. His mother had spit on him when she was tossed in the dungeon of Potter Manor, a place that Sirius hadn't even known had existed. She had been irate and shrieking at the top of her lungs. James had ignored her after sealing the door.

"I was thinking about it and we shouldn't have to worry about anyone who may have compromised the wards…" He trailed off as he realized the two men in the room weren't even acknowledging his entrance.

James was staring out the window, to his side the same names floated from earlier, though some had slightly glowing red checkmarks next to them.

Sirius glanced to the side and saw his father sitting in a chair, holding a drink in his hand but he was watching James closely.

"Prongs?" Sirius spoke up, ignoring his father's raised eyebrow at the nickname.

This time James didn't turn to acknowledge him. His arms were crossed in front of him and he slowly spunt his wand in the fingers of his right hand in a casual movement Sirius had never seen before in his friend. "Yes, Padfoot?"

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked.

"No... " James said slowly, "No, I'm really not."

Sirius tilted his head, another apology about his mother's behavior died in his throat. He got the feeling that wasn't what James was musing on at the moment.

"This entire situation is a bloody buggered mess," James gestured with his free hand toward the list of names.

Sirius glanced at the spiderweb of names to his left, "I know it's a mess, but… we'll get it sorted." He said, trying to project confidence.

James' whipped his head around to look at Sirius, with a piercing intensity that Sirius had never experienced from his friend before the events of that day, "Will we? Will we really get it sorted, you think?"

Sirius flinched at the sudden sharp question.

"We've got a dark lord out running around terrorizing the masses, killing anyone he thinks won't worship him. We've got a Ministry so infiltrated and paralyzed by fear that even if they wanted to, they can't do fuck all without risking their family and friends being targeted. We've got a Wizengamot that half, or more, all but openly support half the ideals the dark lord is spouting." James kicked the corner of the desk, frustration leaking out. He may have not been so upset as he had been due to his initial reaction of the day, but he was no means calm, "Damn it Padfoot, our society is bloody dying, because the purebloods are so desperate to hold onto their power and nothing is changing!"

"You ca-"

"What do you mean?" Orion's voice cut over Sirius, causing the younger man to look at his father. Sirius eyebrows raised at the intent rather than the angry expression he expected to see.

"I mean, squibs are being born more and more, to the families which for the most part stop after one child. Muggleborn are discriminated against by the Ministry and the laws emanating from the Wizengamot itself, even without this Dark Lord's influence. The bloody Goblins practically have their claws at our throats with the greedy little fuckers basically in control of the money." James rattled off a list easily as he met Orion's eyes before he turned to meet Sirius' eyes.

"Why are the historical magical gifts all being lost? Because inbreeding is killing us. Why? Because we're obsessed with 'pure' blood and make it so hard for anyone who isn't pure blooded to stay in our society." James said.

Sirius snorted, and grinned at James, "I knew this was about Lily!" He couldn't resist needling his friend. The reaction he got was not one he expected.

"Of course it's about Lily! But it's not just about her!" James smacked his hand on the desk, as he glared at Sirius, "It's about Lily, and every other magical born to a muggle. And not just muggles! Because this society is so sick and bigoted toward anyone not a pureblood! Muggleborn, werewolves, anyone with creature blood… toward… anyone!"

"You see the shite that Remus has to deal with, and will have to deal with. If parents knew about him at school, they'd riot. Do you see that getting any better?" James paused and took a breath, realizing he had been raising his voice to a near shout, "His own bloody parent's barely want anything to do with him. Because they're scared of people thinking they're 'tainted' by exposure to a werewolf."

Sirius glanced at his father, who looked surprised at the revelation of Remus as a werewolf.

Taking Sirius' glance as an invitation, "And Dumbledore spends more time having to play politics and trying to calm petty squabbles than anything else." Orion mused, swirling his drink in his glass while watching James closely.

James clenched his hands and looked up to the names on the wall, "Even those that fight against Voldemort generally support much of his points with their daily actions, just to lesser degrees. Light families want pureblood heirs, they'd almost never vote for a muggleborn minister, they'd never allow their grip on the economy to be opened up. Most of the same people that talk about opposing the Dark Lord still support his beliefs with their actions. The only reason they don't outright support him is because it would be someone other than them in power. They say they believe differently but don't do differently."

"Face it, we're an entire society of Might makes right or Gold makes right." James spat. "Even if someone hits Voldemort with the Knight Bus tomorrow, it won't fix all these problems. Our society is broken."

"Changes always take time." Orion offered, but his expression was intent on James, eyes narrowed slightly. "Especially considering how long some folks in our society live. Particularly those within the 'might' category."

Sirius snorted at his father, before he crossed his arms as well, "So then what are you proposing?"

James sighed and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk and dropping his head, exhaling with a deep breath before looking up at Sirius, "I don't know, Pads. If I had my way, I'd burn it to the ground and start over."

"Are you even hearing yourself? Leave the dramatics to me, Prongs. 'Burn it to the ground and start over'?" Sirius huffed, and rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Aiming to become a dark lord yourself are you?"

"As much as I hate everything the dark twat stands for, and what he's trying to do, at least he's bloody doing something!" James snapped,

"What does that mean?" Sirius challenged, meeting his friend's eyes.

"Well, he could be like Dumbledore and sit on his arse doing nothing while our society circles the drain. All while allowing dumb policies meant to reinforce a stagnant and dying status quo, by those with similar values. That is what is killing us more slowly but no less effectively." James sneered.

"Our society changes slowly. It always has," Orion said slowly, "As much as I might… dislike some of your ideas, some… not all." Orion held up his hand to forestall the glare from both James and Sirius at his statement. "It's been made clear to me by circumstances with my wife that my views need adjusting. I'm not going to oppose you."

Orion paused and sighed, "The fact of the matter is that our society still moves at a glacial pace. Dark Lords and wars tend to be the only thing that cause any sort of rapid change. And our current Dark Lord seems to be about taking further steps to strengthen circumstances you're so opposed to."

"Well, too bad we don't have any spare dark lords handy we could use to change those circumstances then," Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes. He would have continued but he noticed that James suddenly stilled at his words. "Prongs…?"

James froze for a long moment as a memory from Harry's connection to the Voldemort he defeated, struck him. He pushed away from the desk to turn and look out the window of his study without saying anything. The muscles of his jaw worked as he considered his thoughts.

With what Harry… what he knew… he knew enough to predict and maybe… defeat Voldemort. But was that remotely enough to change things?

For the greater good...

Sirius watched his friend warily, "James…?"

"What if we did?" James asked quietly, a strange note in his voice though he didn't look back.

"If we did what?" Sirius asked with a tilt of his head, an undercurrent of worry in his tone.

"What, what if we did have a dark lord we could use to change things…?" James had a far away look to him, one could almost see the gears working in his head.

"What? You've just decided to be a Dark Lord now? That would be interesting... the Dark Lord Prongs." Sirius scoffed, and when James flicked his eyes toward Sirius in irritation, the man continued, "No? Oh… well then maybe we'll just go down to Diagon and ask for one! You think Borgin and Burkes stocks them?" Sirius brought his finger to his chin, tapping it in exaggerated thought.

"You know... now that you mention it, I'd like an Irish one myself, with their signature killing spell being dropping a cauldron full of gold on their enemy's heads. Instead of a dark mark, I'll ask for their calling card to be a giant rainbow." Sirius gestured in a dramatic half turn before facing James once more, "Get with it, you don't just go and find yourself a dark lord, not unless you've got one stuffed away in a trunk somewhere." Sirius half chuckled at his own words, though a part of him was too concerned watching James, his friend was barely registering his words.

"But what if we did?" James repeated, quietly but audibly, after a few seconds. His eyes far away as he ignored Sirius' theatrics.

"You can't mean…" Orion suddenly blurted out as he stiffened, a mixture of realization and horror coming to his face, his open mouth closing, opening and then closing again, as he stared at James intently.

Sirius was looking between his father and best friend, his eyes darting back and forth. "What? Can't mean what? What am I missing?"

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

Two nights later, an older man, bald and somewhat thin, sat on the floor, his hands wrapped around his knees. His eyes were closed as he breathed evenly. His slow and steady breaths suddenly paused as he stiffened slightly.

He inhaled slowly, before he spoke, and his deep voice was careful and measured carrying a very slight accent, "You might as well show yourself. I can tell you are there." He opened his eyes to look at the door in front of him.

There was a pause and a moment later a wand emerged as if from thin air, visible through the bars in the door ahead of him.

The old man watched with interest, and no fear, as the wand moved, showing a hand holding it as several spells were cast. Then the wand disappeared once more.

The old man simply sat there patiently, as several minutes passed with no sign anything had happened, or anyone was around. Then abruptly, as if a sheet was drawn back, three people appeared out from an invisibility cloak.

The old man's expression shifted as he lifted his head to look at the new arrivals curiously, "Now this is interesting. I confess, I was not expecting guests."

"Gellert Grindelwald," Orion spoke, his voice relatively level as he stared down at the man.

The bald man inclined his head slightly, looking up at the man, "I'd invite you to sit and have some refreshments, so we could introduce ourselves properly, but, alas, the spells don't even allow me to keep my own hair here." He ran a hand over his bald head for effect.

Gellert looked up at Orion and then at the two younger men with him. He gazed up at them and said evenly, "If you are here for revenge, because I, or one of my lieutenants or troops killed some relative of yours, you may as well get on with it." His tone even and matter of fact as he stared down the three that had broken into the space outside his cell.

"We're not here for vengeance," James still glanced around cautiously, making sure they weren't about to be beset by guards "At least not against you."

Gellert heaved a resigned sigh, "Oh. Well, I regret to inform you that you have wasted your time. I am also not interested in being freed and leading you or helping you go on some foolish crusade to subjugate the muggles or some variation of that… lost cause."

"That's funny, that was the cause you rallied people to." Orion said, the accusation clear in his tone.

"Yes, and it ended up so well. Me, here, imprisoned for life. Those who trusted me, scattered to the four winds. The deaths of far… far too many, for a cause that was a fool's quest." Gellert answered blandly with no signs of deceit in his body language. "So if you are here for that, you may leave the way you came. I shall happily die before raising that banner again."

"You want to die?" James asked, a little surprised and exchanging glances with those around him.

"Death comes for everyone. Eventually," Gellert answered evenly, before furrowing his brow and looking back and forth between the three of them. "So if it is not to torture and kill me, and it is not to free me, to try and wage war on the muggles... And any information that I might possess is far too long out of date to be relevant... " He worked through the obvious reasons one would have to be in his presence and left his thoughts hanging, expecting a response.

"We're not looking for information, to kill you, or to get you to go back to your old cause." Orion spoke up, still watching Gellert warily through the bars of his cell.

"That leaves precious little else. But I am curious about what three Englishmen, two of whom are barely adults, unless I miss my guess, would want with one such as I," Gellert rocked forward to look up at them with a piercing blue eyed gaze.

Orion looked like he was going to speak but was cut off by James, who stepped closer to the bars and met the older man's gaze. "We're here because we need the wizarding world to believe there is a second dark lord on the loose."

Grindelwald's expression flickered briefly at the mention of a second dark lord before it closed off, "I already told you I would not-"

"We don't want you raising your old banner. Quite the opposite actually." James countered mirthlessly. "I want to get rid of the garbage that is pureblood rule and the bias against muggleborn and… well anything not pureblood."

"Unless something has markedly changed… I would have guessed Albus Dumbledore would be the person most people would flock to with ideals like that," Gellert responded neutrally, that didn't hide the spark of interest in his eyes, "And I have to think he would have been a good deal easier to make an appointment to speak with."

"See Prongs, even the bloody evil wizard is telling you that you should go to talk to Dumbledore. Maybe you should listen." Sirius spoke up, looking a bit jittery as he held his wand in his hand.

"Maybe Dumbledore has the right values but he's had thirty years to push against the purebloods, to change things," James countered, knowing full well just how ineffective legislative changes would be, frustration entering his tone, "And he's achieved almost nothing…"

"You assume much. Do you think you can do better?" Gellert challenged James, lifting his chin, "You? A boy who is barely out of school? Who probably has no concept of what the world is really like?"

James smiled, one that showed more than a hint of anger beneath, and let out a mirthless chuckle, "Now who is making assumptions?" He let the statement hang, for a moment, gauging the man's response. "Dumbledore is well intentioned… but… he is far too… kind. People know they don't have to worry about him plotting against them, or outright attacking them. So they feel no inclination to worry about his objections."

Gellert just kept his eyes on James.

"And maybe I can't do any better." James acknowledged, "Especially with a Dark Lord pushing those same destructive values."

He crouched down slightly to bring his eyeline more even with Gellert's. "But this is me trying to do better."

"Why?" Gellert asked, his voice betraying his interest. "Why come to me?"

"Because, even if I were to single handedly and very publicly beat the dark lord down, then in the best case scenario, I would end up like Dumbledore seems to be." James gestured with ah and, "Publicly held as a hero, and respected but marginalized… because while he is powerful and has other wizards afraid of him… they know he is too moral."

Gellert looked both intrigued and thoughtful as he focused on James.

"The public know that the Dark Lord will torture them, kill them, and do the same to their familes if they disagree with him or oppose him. With Dumbledore? They risk his ire. Maybe prison. But nothing like the Dark Lord. Because they know there are things Dumbledore won't do." James explained, "The Dark Lord has no such reservations."

"They know that they can get away with a great deal and the establishment would continue on with interests, unless I force them to change their stance. And the only way to do that is to become a threat as well," James said with a bit of a growl. "The purebloods and those in power will fight tooth and nail to keep things the way they are. And the way things are in the magical society is a giant steaming pile of dragon shite."

"Don't hold back on your feelings Prongs…" Sirius said with an eye roll, crossing his arms as he looked between James and Gellert, his wand still held in his hand, ready to cast at the first sign of need.

"It has taken the Dark Lord decades of working in the shadows of building his reputation and proving he is one to be feared. Murder by murder. Torture by torture." James said, ignoring Sirius. "I don't have the time, nor the inclination to simply randomly torture or kill large groups of people, to provoke the same fear on a much smaller scale."

Gellert glanced at Sirius, and then Orion, before focusing on James once more. "And this… led you to somehow decide to break into Nurmengard? A feat that, I confess, I am more than a little curious and impressed with. This is, to the best of my knowledge still the most secure magical prison in the world. But we'll come back to that."

"It was pointed out to me that one of the few things that could cause large shifts in magical societies was a Dark Lord or a war." James said wryly.

"Those things do go hand in hand," Gellert observed, "So your plan was… to try and avail yourselves of the aid of a fallen dark lord?"

"Your involvement would make people sit up and take notice," Orion was forced to interject, though his tone conveyed his reluctance.

"I may not have time to provoke the fear, but the name Gellert Grindelwald?" James snapped his fingers, "You don't have to do anything to establish a reputation to be feared. Grindelwald is still a name that has been whispered as a scary monster to children and in history books. Can you imagine the reaction?"

Gellert narrowed his eyes at James' comments and tilted his head slightly in consideration and looked between the three of them once more, "If this Dark Lord is pushing pureblood supremacy, then based on what you've said, it is obviously at the expense of the mudborn and... muggles. Why come to a defeated dark lord whose views might be even more extreme than the one you face? Especially if your goals are the polar opposite?"

"Dark lords are hardly common. And… well… you've been in prison for more than thirty years. I thought perhaps you would've... re-considered your position." James replied blandly. He glanced back up with a glare at Orion who had snorted audibly at that statement.

"Hmm." Gellert hummed non-committedly, his gaze not leaving James' face. "And even if that were the case, what makes you think I would help you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Can we go now?" Sirius threw in, tugging lightly on James' sleeve. James ignored his friend.

"Nothing is right," James replied, his admission drawing mild surprise from the two Blacks, "But one way or another Gellert Grindelwald is going to help us." He said, finishing with steel in his voice.

"You think you can force me into compliance? The imperius perhaps?" Gellert demanded, for the first time, anger showing on his expression, before he scoffed incredulously. "You are welcome to try. I can throw off that as easy as you can breathe, as well as any other controlling curses you might have come with. You can try and torture me to your heart's content, boy. I have seen and experienced magic that make any torture curse seem like a tickle, and in the end I will still say no with my dying breath."

The old wizard sneered, "You have nothing to force my compliance. There is nothing to hold over my head. My family is gone. My few previous connections are dead, or beyond your reach. I'm in prison for life, as a pariah, so there is nothing for you to blackmail me with."

"You misunderstand," James met the eyes of the angry wizard calmly, "Even if you refuse, Gellert Grindelwald is going to escape Nurmengard tonight. The world is going to wonder where he is, w hat he is doing, what he has planned before he shows up in England for reasons unknown. But he is going to make a lot of people very nervous, including a certain dark lord who will no doubt wonder whether he has competition."

Gellert's eyes had widened, the first visceral reaction their appearance had so far invoked, as his anger faded as he regarded James with far more interest than he had previously, "So, you will just kill me if I refuse to help?"

"Yes." James responded evenly, drawing looks from both Sirius and Orion, but he didn't even glance their way.

Rather than anger Gellert, that response appeared to make him thoughtful.

"However, I think I can convince you to help without any form of coercion, magical or otherwise. Though I will obviously require an oath." James continued, speaking casually.

"You seem awfully confident in your ability to sway me, especially if you think I am going to make an oath to someone whose name I don't even know." Gellert responded, his tone even, not betraying his emotions.

"I have some pretty convincing reasons," James answered simply as he shifted from crouching to sit down on the ground, to look through the barred door at eye level. He had his wand still drawn but resting on his crossed legs when he spoke again, "First is the fact that it would free you from this prison."

"Only to imprison me another way, in an oath to someone I do not know." Gellert quickly countered the point with ease.

"A prison that would allow you to breathe fresh air outside these walls and allow you the feel of a wand between your fingers again." Orion interjected, sweeping away the riposte that Gellert had followed up with. Grindelwald didn't reply, or even acknowledge the older man, his gaze remaining on James.

"Second, this Dark Lord terrorizing England believes he is the greatest wizard ever. Certainly the greatest dark lord of all time." James continued. "He's very dramatic about it."

"Most powerful wizards seem to enjoy a sense of drama. Also, appealing to my ego is not entirely futile, but it is nowhere near enough for me to agree." Gellert answered, open amusement on his face now.

"Third, ripping down a system believing in the superiority of magicals, purebloods specifically, would be nearly the opposite of what you championed and, to an extent, would be the start of redemption for everything you did," James said slowly.

"Redemption," Gellert scoffed in dismissiveness, "As if one such as I could ever be redeemed for all I have done. And now you do sound like Albus and his belief in second chances."

"You're right, I'm not sure you could ever be fully redeemed," James agreed, not shying from the man's intense gaze, "But you're certainly not doing anything here, and when you cross over, do you want to face it having done nothing but waste away to the end of your days?"

"I am not afraid of Death," answered Gellert calmly.

"No, you're a man who knows Death will come for you at some time. You don't wield the piece of Death's gift that you did and expect to have a long life ending in a bed surrounded by family." James stated with assuredness.

That comment startled Gellert. His entire body went rigid, for a moment, before he relaxed, his tone a bit impressed, "You are… very well informed. As far as I know, only four people knew that information. One is dead, two would never discuss it and the last is myself. How did you know I possessed one of those items?"

"Because it's from a set of three." James commented, the casual way in which he spoke betrayed by the solemnity on his face. He ignored the looks of blatant confusion on Sirius and Orion's faces. "The one I possess has quite a different history."

Gellert's eyes widened at that comment and then narrowed as they followed James' movements, the young man had shifted and held up a shimmering bit of fabric that he and the others had slipped out from under initially.

"The cloak…" Gellert breathed out after looking between James' expression and the shimmering invisibility cloak in front of him. "The one shrouded in secrecy, and completely lost from history. More so than either of the others."

"It was never lost," James countered, "It has been passed from father to son in an unbroken line since it was supposedly first gifted from Death."

"It… stayed with Ignotus' line," Gellert breathed out in mild surprise as he looked from James to the invisibility cloak casually held in his hand.

Sirius and Orion were both looking back and forth between James, the invisibility cloak and Gellert's expression of fascination. They both looked like they were trying to put together the information from pieces of the conversation they were hearing.

"It has," James did his best to school the smirk he wanted to form on his face as he now pressed the man, "And.. this Dark Lord? He is the last of Cadmus' line. He possessed the final piece which was affixed to a family ring his uncle possessed. The Dark Lord stole it before framing his uncle for the murder of his muggle father."

"How the bloody hell do you know that?" Sirius blurted out, only a moment before Orion could.

"Magic," James looked up and a faint smirk on his face before turning his attention back to Grindelwald, "The Dark Lord thought it was merely a family heirloom. He had no idea what he had or has. I have reason to believe he has used some… unfortunate magic on the ring holding the stone and I believe has hidden it away."

"The last of both Cadmus and Ignotus' line…" Gellert whispered, unable to keep the fascination with the concept off his face.

James smirked faintly at that reaction. "Beyond all of those reasons, you can't lie and say you don't want to be in the thick of things. You'd rather have some freedom than none at all. Can you truly resist jumping into things with Dumbledore on one side, a Dark Lord who can match your old… friend spell for spell on the other, and ourselves setting up a third side? Doesn't that interest you?"

Grindelwald took in the words, his eyes not leaving the cloak he was now sure was a Deathly Hallow, and it also explained how they could have made it to his cell without raising an alarm. He leaned back slightly and stroked his chin.

He could resist each point brought up on his own. An oath was a magical jail but it would be nice to be out of the cell, to be in an open space with a wand in his hand again. He'd spent decades regretting his actions. Now he was being offered a chance. His name was reviled and scorned, though Gellert didn't think there was anything that could change that. But that didn't mean he couldn't change his legacy.

"While your arguments are more intriguing than I'd expected, you have yet to introduce yourselves." There was some faint amusement in his tone. "If you are brazen enough to ask for the allegiance of someone such as I, then I think I should at least know your names."

James hesitated only momentarily, before answering, "I am James Potter, and this is Sirius Black and his father Orion Black." pointing out each of them.

"James Potter, Sirius Black and Orion Black." Gellert dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I must say though, despite my doubts, you're quite persuasive. The attempts on my ego and all three of Death's Hallows contending with one another? Well," his lips tugged into a half feral half amused grin, "one can only resist so long."

"The Deathly Hallows? Those are just a fairy tale!" Sirius sputtered out, as he finally made the connection.

"They are hardly a fairy tale," Gellert scolded lightly, "You should know that many of our magical tales are based in some sort of truth." Sirius looked abashed at the scolding and Orion had reached out and was just rubbing the fabric of the invisibility cloak that still rested on James' shoulders between his fingers.

"However, I think I've gotten everything I can from this cell and am quite ready to go." He pushed himself up to stand.

"Not so fast. If you want out, there's an oath to be sworn. We can't just set you free and hope you'll play nice," Orion said, speaking up again, his wand in hand, levelled at the man in the cell as if merely standing up was a threat.

"No, I daresay you cannot, but, you also know that can't put too many limits on me sight unseen since you have no idea what may come up in this little conflict," Gellert said, once more his tone was calm, rather than challenging. "And a dark lord, even if I'm a fallen one, can't do much with restrictions that are too tight."

"I know." James said, pulling out a parchment, "I was not thinking of an oath restricting your behavior in any specific way. Rather I was thinking of a loyalty oath similar to an oath of vassalage."

"A vassalage oath? That is an oath that traditionally goes both ways." Gellert said immediately, the previous disapproval of the original idea slipping toward intrigue.

"I know. That's the point." James replied simply.

Gellert regarded him in surprise, "You offer a reciprocal oath?"

"Yes," James replied, ignoring the blatant disapproval on Orions' face, "I'm not looking to have you thinking I'm going to betray you when it is convenient. Nor throw you away. At the same time, this prevents us from facing the impossible task of coming up with an oath that is not too restrictive, but doesn't have loopholes that you'll look to exploit. It will offer you more freedom, but tie your goals and what is acceptable to me. And… the consequences of breaking it would be rather… final."

Gellert's expression definitely betrayed his interest as he leaned forward to read the parchment James held out for him without taking it from him. When James' expression turned slightly puzzled, a wry smile crossed his face, "I am afraid that aside from this smock, and tray that food is delivered on daily, the spells on my cell would destroy any parchment. The muggle paper delivered daily with my food may only be read, not torn or folded beyond the normal creases and dissolves after a few hours."

James blinked in surprise at the mention of the precautions, but also at the mention of a muggle paper. He nodded in realization and held the parchment so the older man could read it.

It only took a few minutes to haggle over the precise wording of the oath and it was only after the oath had taken that they considered allowing him out.

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

When he stepped out of the cell, wrapped briefly in the invisibility cloak lent to him by James. All three englishmen watched Gellert as he held the fabric of the cloak in his hands and rubbed it with his fingers for nearly thirty seconds before sliding it over himself and stepping out. Though they were still in the old fortress, Gellert took a deep breath, as if he was taking in the freshest of air. Even being out of the cell made him seem taller, more formidable. "Come, there are some things we need to pick up."

The four of them wrapped in the invisibility cloak. James was never more pleased that the cloak seemed to expand upon need and contract to fill the needs of use. While it was a tight fit, it was no tighter than when he, Hermione and Ron had used it to sneak down to the third corridor when he was eleven and this was four adult men.

When Harry was eleven. James shook his thoughts off, more and more it felt like his memories and experiences were combining, but he wasn't going to dwell on it.

The four men pressed close together but walked down the stairs from the tower. Rather than toward the entrance they had come through, Gellert led them confidently, if somewhat slowly given the need to stay under the cloak.

The entire castle seemed like no one had been there and not just recently, but for years, and that it had been stripped of everything that might have furnished it. Gellert didn't seem to care one way or the other about the trappings around them as he led them into the kitchen. The only reason that they could tell it was a kitchen was the iron stove and the cabinets that all had no doors on them.

They watched him look around the kitchen before Gellert moved over to the iron stove. He pressed his hand against an edge and swiped, cutting the side of his hand. With a glance at the three Englishmen who watched him, Gellert moved to press his hand against the center of the stove, then on the side of one of the cabinets, and then a third on a spot on a wall next to what looked to have been a pantry. There was a brief pause and then a section of the cabinets folded in on themselves.

"No active magic, just blood activation. Clever." Orion murmured quietly.

Gellert smirked and stepped down a few stairs that had just appeared, the other three stepped forward to look inside, after him.

It wasn't much of a room, it was smaller than the cell he had been in, but inside there were shelves with a number of items. The first, and most readily identifiable item, was a wand. James had never closely studied wands, but it did not stop him from noticing the wand curved slightly in an almost artistic way, though calling the piece of wood artistic was, perhaps, stretching it too far.

James' eyes narrowed as he tried to see it better. Gellert had it resting on his hand, his palm facing up, though his hand was not perfectly flat. The handle rested gently in the crook in the middle of the base of his hand and the length was secure, gently resting between his fore and middle fingers. He brought his attention up from the wand and saw a look that could only be described as sinister serenity on the man's face.

If the man hadn't just sworn an oath it would have caused James to grip his wand defensively. Still, it gave him pause and he momentarily considered unleashing a man such as this into the open may be unwise. As quick as the thought had come he summarily dismissed it.

This was necessary, if he wanted to change things. He knew it in his bones.

For the Greater Good.

While James' eyes had rested on the man, the elder man had only taken a moment to inhale at the feeling of a wand in his hand once more and had not been idle. He'd summoned a change of clothes, a travelling cloak and a few accessories his eyes hadn't caught more than a fleeting glance at.

James decided he didn't need to see the man change his attire and directed his eyes away from the man, taking in the rest of the room. He saw books that looked equally aged and rare. There was space for potions that were empty, save for one space where a lone vial stood alone. At first James thought it was dark red, vibrantly so, crimson, almost the color of blood. But even as James observed it, he noticed the color was slowly shifting, growing lighter and becoming a burnished orange under his view. Bubbles moved erratically inside of it, swirling in excitement.

James found himself moving closer and as he got near to it, he could feel the magical potential of it. Potions sometimes had a mild feel of latent magic to them, if one concentrated and had the talent to focus. This however, was not the case with the item that caught his eye.

"Ah, perhaps I should not be surprised that you found what, to most, might be the most valuable item in the room." Gellert's cultured voice spoke out from behind James, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "A parting gift from a mentor, one Albus and I shared." Gellert allowed the statement to hang.

"As far as I know Albus only had one person he would call a mentor…" Orion stated slowly, his eyes focused on the flask now, as his jaw shut and his gaze bored into the item.

"Nicholas Flamel," James breathed out, now knowing what the liquid was. Harry had a memory of a stone that had fallen into his pocket after staring into a mirror that had both of his identities plus an older Lily Evans who looked astounding, loving and at peace with her husband and son.

James shook his head out of the memory and watched as Grindelwald strode toward the flask and unceremoniously plucked it off the shelf. "I had thought this would be used to bring me back from the brink of death. Instead I find that I have wasted away in prison to a shade of my former self. It may not restore my prime… but, if I am to make a proper go at this, I must rectify it." He carefully removed the stopper and brought the flask to his lips, tipping the now green glowing contents into his mouth.

Before all of their eyes the man began to change. His skin was bubbling, reminding James of the changes under polyjuice potion, and then it began to change. His skin gained some color, no longer looking pale and near death. His bald head sprouted white hair, hair that thickened and even had a healthy sheen to it, though was definitely wild as a bushy beard, and hair that grew below his shoulders sprouted. His stooped and hunched form straightened and he took a breath. Muscles, after years of atrophying, were restored. The potion didn't return him to the prime of his youth, but it definitely seemed to remove a great many of the ravages of time spent in prison.

The man that stood before the three man party, that had broken in to kill or spring him, seemed like an entirely different person.

Gindelwald, with his eyes closed, stretched his limbs and his eyes roamed over his form, "Oh, that… felt… stupendous." His eyes snapped open and he grinned, "I feel better than I have in so very long."

Suddenly the room began to fill with magic, pure magic as Gellert spread his arms. James felt it flooding the room, it was intense, fortified, with more than a tinge of darkness and anger. James' eyes caught sight of Sirius and Orion, who were standing side by side, and saw they were buckling, struggling to stand and fumbling for their wands at the same time, withdrawing inward and looked as if they were being swallowed up by a storm. The Black Heir was fearful and clutching onto his wand, his grey eyes darting from his father, to James and then settling on Gellert.

To James? Harry had felt worse. This wasn't an overt threat nor was it dark magic and anger directed at him. He had experienced far darker and focused magic when confronting Voldemort multiple times. He didn't so much as flinch.

Gellert's eyes were focused on James and his brow lifted in surprise but the older wizard didn't say anything for a moment. "How good it feels to be free and whole." He drew his magic back into himself with an inhale of his breath, his eyes closed and staring at the ceiling as he did so. He slowly exhaled and leisurely lowered his head back to a normal height, his eyes opening after his chin levelled. Gellert's keen gaze shot to James once more and he briefly held it there before looking to the other two as well.

"Now then, I am ready to make my exit." Grindelwald's cultured tenor of a voice drew their attention again.

Orion coughed a little, finishing gathering himself, and then asked a question not only he had on the tip of his tongue, "You're not talking the rest of these objects?" He questioned, gesturing at the shelves of untouched items.

"Most of it is useless or irrelevant now. This was a hidden storage built to be a redundancy. My original wand, the elixir of life, to bring myself or an ally back from the brink of death, and a spare set of robes. The rest… well, it's of no consequence now."

He stepped toward the shelves Orion first gestured to, "Memories filled with blackmail material about people who have long passed or for things that are now irrelevant."

"I don't believe the strengths and profiles of law enforcement agents from continental Europe from a few decades back would be of use to you, now would it? Nor the suspicions of diplomats embezzling funds or abusing their authority, hmm?" Gellert's eyes moved over the rows.

"The other items don't look like blackmail material, are they useless now too?" James asked, eyeing the eclectic assortment of mismatched items.

"Well, if you want to know the weather in Frankfurt, or see if the druid Suhas had left any coded messages for me regarding ritual magic, then sure, knowledge is power and many of these items were, at one point, charmed to provide intelligence." He casually plucked an item off the shelf and then prodded it with his wand. The black cylindrical item didn't react well to the active magic and promptly began to disintegrate.

Grindelwald splayed his fingers and allowed the coarse sand like substance to fall between his fingers. "As I'd said, a room of redundancies, with only a few treasures worth reclaiming." Gellert drawled out, breathing in deeply once more, taking in details and marveling at the changes in sensation, and all he could feel.

"Okay then, if you've gathered everything of value, we should get under the cloak and be on our way before someone notices you are missing from your cell." James said and he caught Sirius nodding in agreement with his peripheral vision.

"Ah. I don't believe we should sneak out like thieves in the night. After all, what kind of fallen Dark Lord would I be if I snuck out of prison quietly and without notice?" Gellert asked.

"One who doesn't want to get caught and end up back in said prison?" Sirius offered helpfully.

Gellert glanced at him, and actually smirked faintly at the comment. "But you want a message that I am free, no?"

"What are you proposing then?" Orion asked, looking as if he was not sure he actually wanted the question answered.

"Destruction, drama and deliverance of a message on exactly how much you appreciated the decades of care you've received here?" Sirius guessed, looking more uncomfortable than his father, though he was able to act more like his normal self than he had been.

The sinister smile he received in return likely didn't help him feel more comfortable with the situation.

"Something like that, yes." Gellert drawled out with a smirk, eyes flashing, the curvature of his lips never dissipating.

James heaved out a much put upon sigh, "Of course, powerful wizards all seem to be drama queens. Especially dark ones."

Gellert's smirk turned into a full out grin.

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

James heaved out another sigh as the four of them stared up at the giant castle of Nurmengard. It was bathed in blue flame. The magic that had gone into the construction of the formerly formidable fortress was coming undone, walls were falling, the tower toppled and foundations fell away, the blue flames over taking it all.

As the structure came apart, resembling little more than a pile of rubble, an explosion rocked the debris and the flames turned to a vivid green as soon as it went off.

"Now, shall we go before magical authorities show up?" Gellert asked with an amused smile.

"Blue then green? Really? Did you have to use those colors, regular red-orange flames aren't dramatic enough for you?" Sirius snarked at Grindelwald.

"Obviously." Gellert replied in his deep drawl, hands clasped together behind his back, the light of the green flames reflecting off his face, part of it remaining shadowed, the contract giving him a sinister look.

James rolled his eyes, "Like I said… powerful wizards are dramatic." He was already moving to gather with everyone else. "C'mon let's get out of here, you'll get used to the dramatics Padfoot."

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

"So, care to explain?" Sirius asked, crossing his arms and glaring at James.

"Explain what?" James asked, raising his brows as he sat down in one of the comfortable chairs. They had only arrived back a few minutes earlier and James had directed Grindelwald toward his room and bath which they all agreed he desperately needed. James had told the older man he expected him not to leave and to come find them in the study afterward.

"Well, you could start with knowing so much about the Dark Lord," Orion pointed out, holding a drink in his hand as he watched James with a far more evaluative expression.

"Which one?" snarked Sirius with a roll of his eyes.

Orion raised his brow with a bob of his head, acknowledging Sirius' point.

"I told you, my parents began investigating things before they died." He said slowly, keeping his face neutral and his eyes wide, doing his best to play it down.

"Right…" Sirius drawled, "They just so happened to come across all this information, for people I know they didn't meet. I mean, I'm sure your parents ran in the same circles as Corban Yaxley enough to guess he's an unmarked Death Eater… right, Prongs?!"

James threw up his hands. "Woah, I don't know where they got everything. I just know what they brought me up to speed on shortly before their deaths."

Sirius snorted, "Your parents were great people, but aurors? No, they weren't that. And they wouldn't be able to put together years worth of investigating in a couple months. They either turned someone or you're lying."

"I didn't know your parents well but, I'll have to agree with my heir. The depth of your knowledge would take years." Orion opined, "Not even the circles I run in, seem to know anything about You-Know-Who's history. Or they're too afraid to mention it. Certainly never in casual conversation."

James wasn't sure what to do. Now that he looked at the sheer volume of details he had put on the wall, plus his conversation with Grindelwald. He hadn't considered what the end result would really look like to Sirius.

"But that's not all. Deathly Hallows…? Since when have you known they were real?! Since when did you know you owned one?!" Sirius demanded.

"I've always known about the origins of the cloak," James gestured with his hand, toward the area he had set the cloak, "It's passed on from father to son, and it's not something we talk about."

"No, just with fallen dark lords in a prison." Orion added dryly.

James turned and glowered at him while Sirius nodded and pointed at James victoriously. "That right there? That was the truth."

When James looked at him, Sirius met his gaze, "I've been your best mate for six years, since we were ickle little firsties on our first train ride. I know you James. I know when you're telling the truth. When you're fudging or dancing around a topic, and when you're lying."

Sirius kept his eyes on James until the latter looked away briefly before looking back. Sirius didn't smirk but nodded as if that proved his point, before he slumped and sighed.

"It's not just that …" There was a tiredness to his voice, it was as if he'd been stressing on an issue and just wanted it resolved now. "If I hadn't seen Potter Manor's wards accept you, I might not even believe you are you, Prongs."

Orion arched an eyebrow but stayed silent, letting his son confront the issue. There had been a number of incidents that made him wonder about the capabilities of his son's friend but he didn't know the Potter boy well enough to be able to comment with any definity.

"Where did your skill in the mind arts come from? How did you suddenly learn to apparate so well? How did you go from mooning over Evans, and desperate to show her how much you've matured, to this?" Sirius demanded, "You haven't even brought her name up at all since we left Hogwarts? I mean, not even once!"

"Look, Padfoot, it's... hard to explain." James began placatingly, "You're right… I've changed." He simply stated, as that said it all.

"Since my parents have died I've put forth more effort and realized I have to take this seriously. Nobody was doing anything about their deaths, just writing it off due to illness and their advanced age."

"But it wasn't age or murder. It was murder!" James snarled, tufts of magic releasing off his body as his anger manifested magic around him. "What would you have me do? Just sit around at school, fawn over Lily and play pranks with yourself, a Merlin-be-damned traitor, and a werewolf that can't see beyond his own self-pity and self-loathing?!"

James took a few deep breaths to keep himself under control. Sirius was looking abashed but his eyes were still narrowed at his friend, partly at what James had pointed out and for the role the miserable bitch that was his mother had played in his parent's deaths.

"I'm not apologizing for growing up. I'm not saying sorry for doing something other than sit on my arse at Hogwarts while the wizarding world goes to hell in a handbasket." James was giving a hard stare to the two Blacks, his eyes challenging them to contradict him, as the earlier coals of his rage still burned with a seething cold fury.

"But that's just it! Since when have you cared?! Since when have you given a knut about anything beyond class, pranks, and Evans." Despite the anger that lurked in his friend's eyes, Sirius wasn't backing down, if anything he was getting more agitated now, "You've changed, Prongs! This isn't something that's been building! A few days ago you were none of these things. I know! I was there on the train and you were not like this! I know you too well. You're hiding something, big. "

James head backed up, the vehemence in his friend wasn't something he could just skirt around. Sirius wasn't going to let up. He'd have to level with him or drive him away, the thought of doing that twisted up his stomach into uncomfortable knots. He opened his mouth, not sure what he should say, even as he did so, but Sirius cut him off before he could formulate any words to respond with.

"I was here. This summer. I know it's not just the deaths. Something happened after the train ride. Something changed you, substantially. I've racked my brain and still have no idea of what it could be." Sirius paused and slumped back into his chair, his frustration giving way to worry.

"Just tell me what it was, Prongs." He pleaded, turning things completely over to James, his peace said, his plea given. "What happened?"

There was only one path forward now. Sirius was loyal. He'd left Hogwarts on a whim to follow him without any prompting on James' part. He'd trusted James enough to act against his own blood, his parents. If that wasn't enough, he was complicit with travelling to another country and sneaking into a famed fortress to either kill or recruit the most infamous wizard of the last century, an actual dark lord!

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be something easy to explain, let alone prove so they wouldn't believe he was some whacko.

"You're right. I've changed. I'm still James… but I'm more than just the James Potter you knew." He began to try and explain slowly, still with no idea on how to go about doing that.

"How so?" Orion questioned curiously with no challenge in his tone, speaking up again, James had focused so much on Sirius that he had kind of forgotten the man was in the room. There wasn't anything he was willing to do about sending the older man away. Orion was putting himself in the middle of this and supporting their cause. He'd be invaluable to have in the know as well.

"I don't know how to explain it…" He began, "I was in my room, the Headboy's room," he clarified so Orion would understand as well, "and I was just making sure I was all ready, like straightening my tie and checking myself over and then it happened."

James' voice was quiet and his brows furrowed, one hand had gone to his head, where he'd had a head-splitting pain, "I- I was just looking in the mirror...and… I was bombarded, assaulted with memories and magic, neither of which were my own…" He trailed off as he could almost feel how much pain he had been in, the memories of it still fresh in his mind.

"Who, whose were they? Nobody should have been in that room with you." Sirius said, his grey eyes full of worry seeing James turn so subdued and quiet.

"A student?" Orion wondered aloud, his voice filled with doubt. "An imposter? Did someone break into Hogwarts?" Orion asked though it did not sound as if he actually believed what he was saying, Hogwarts was a veritable fortress and outsiders getting in and assaulting a student on the first day of classes, the Headboy no less, didn't really seem plausible.

"No, nothing like that." James quickly dismissed the suggestions, his eyes still unfocused and far off. "I had… memories of the future."

"A vision?" Orion sat forward with narrowed eyes, "As far as I know the Potters have never had any seers in their bloodline."

"The Blacks have," Sirius reminded his father with a glance in his direction. "And Dorea was a Black.."

"It only pops up rarely…" Orion countered.

Before Sirius could get into an argument with his father, James waved his hand, "No… no nothing like that. It was far more than a vision, there was magic involved, powerful magic. They were both… from someone. Unintentionally..."

"Then whose were they?" Sirius prompted his friend gently.

"My- my son's." James brought his brown eyes back to look at Sirius, meeting his eyes unflinchingly as he decided to tell them the unvarnished truth. "Harry James Potter."

"Your son's?" Orion parroted more surprised than disbelieving.

"Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. Orphaned before he could talk, his parents, me, my wife, murdered by the same dark lord that we're dealing with now before we're twenty two years old." James said, emphasizing each sentence.

"Are you sure? Your son? With Lily Evans?!" There was uncertainty and doubt in Sirius' voice, "You're sure it wasn't… a dream?"

James gave him a flat look. "Yes. I'm sure. I have his memories, remember?" He bit out. "I knew Walburga killed my parents because Harry read it in her journal, after her death, after your death," his eyes flicked over to Orion briefly and then back to Sirius, "and after your death, Padfoot. How could I have known that happened, when I had no clue beforehand?"

It was like the proclamation of their future deaths had sucked the air out of the room. James let that sink in before he moved on. "It was more than memories because I know things I didn't know before. Not just… what happened in the future, but… magic. I know and can cast magic I've not done before as if it were second nature and I've done it for years."

Without hesitating he pulled out his wand and with a casual wave, and no words, a silver stag burst from the end, filling the room with light as it burst out, circled behind James and came to a stop between James and the two Blacks.

"Prongs…" Sirius whispered, staring at the patronus in front of him.

"You know I've never learned that spell. Even if I had, I could never cast it with such ease. And yes… it's a stag for exactly the reasons you're thinking, Padfoot." James said, "I have his memories and magic…"

James paused and shook his head at his own wording, "No, that's not quite right. He's a part of me. Up here." He pointed at his own head. "And no… I'm not crazy."

"Assuming what you say is true… that would explain the magical discrepancies that Sirius noticed," Orion commented, blasting through James preparing to defend the truth of his statement, "I assume it also explains some of the information. Far more than your parents with a spy network compiling information on people for years. I can understand going after my wife for what she did. But… to go far enough to seek the help of a former deposed dark lord?"

James wasn't convinced that both of them believed his tale. It wasn't that they were humoring him, exactly, but it did feel like they were going along with it with a certain degree of skepticism, almost like a 'let's hear him out and then decide whether he's gone batshit insane or not'.

"Harry won. Through a series of events that were equally achieved through will, grit and determination as they were a stupidly convoluted plan, one that was more bumbling into miracles and coincidences than could never have been predicted, that he won, defeating You-Know-Who forever." James stopped and looked off, anger threatening to bubble over and wriggle out of his control.

"Winning doesn't normally make you this… mad." Sirius said, before glancing at his father, all the while wondering if his… son… had defeated the monster wouldn't things have gotten better?

"Winning… that's what they thought. The dark lord was gone and dead. His top lieutenants were dead, or mostly locked up for life this time." His face filled with unbridled fury, nostrils flaring and his fingers pressed to the point of almost drawing blood. "Harry won, at the sacrifice of many, you, me, Lily, Frank, Alice, Moony, dying beside his wife and far, far, far too many. Others. Good people, young people, many of them just kids…."

"I don't get it. They won, how could that be so awful?" Sirius asked, his gaze fixed on James.

James shook his head, pulling himself away from reliving the deaths of so many who had fought valiantly to win a war. "It's not the war that's the issue. It's the war after the war."

"You're not making any sense. They defeat You-Know-Who, winning the war, but then lose the next one?" Sirius' eyebrows were knit together and confusion rippled across his features.

"Not an actual war, son." Orion said shrewdly, "Politics and fallout is what he's referring to, the same thing that happened after Albus ended Grindelwald's war."

James nodded tiredly, his hand massaging his head, reliving those memories… not pleasant.

"And… this drove you to... need… Grindelwald?" Sirius asked, not noticing a presence at the doorway.

"What else was I supposed to do?" James nearly snarled back at him, the response gaining more ire than either of the Black's had expected. He had noticed, the arrival of a fourth person and didn't say anything. "We might… might be able to beat You-Know-Who. But he's as much a symptom as he is anything else."

He took a second to calm himself, before continuing, "I could have left Gellert rotting in his cell if it was just our V-You-Know-Who that was the problem. It's what comes after that I don't know what to do about. I've seen that it wasn't enough to be the strongest wizard around, it wasn't enough to try and play by the rules. The same fucking arseholes that supported the dark arse rose up and stabbed us-them in the back the second they had a bloody chance!"

He took a deep though somewhat ragged breath as he felt his anger inside him once more, all the unresolved tension and frustration coming out. Harry had fucking won! He was supposed to have moved on and enjoyed peace and prosperity!

James had died before he could really even live as an adult. His wife had died seconds after him, died on her knees begging a madman to spare her son. And their son, his son had fought his whole life, never losing a battle but had been defeated in the end. It was such a hollow feeling. Never losing but failing to win.

"So it was your... son's memories that gave you information on You-Know-Who?" Orion asked, changing the subject and bringing things back around to figuring out whether the teen in front of him had perhaps lost his mind.

"Yes, his real name is Tom Riddle. Call him that if you prefer that to his moniker." James affirmed, preferring that in case the dark lord had already spelled any sort of taboo to his name.

"And that's how you came to believe he possessed the resurrection stone from the tale of the Deathly Hallows?" Orion asked.

"Yes, I knew it was truth because my father told me about our invisibility cloak. You said yourself when we used it to get in, that you'd never heard of a cloak managing to hide people from any magical wards and traps," James explained, "Not to mention its ability to stretch. It's definitely one of the Hallows. Riddle has or had the stone set in a ring he wore."

"And the unbeatable wand?" Orion pressed, not hearing that James was unaware of its location.

"I wielded Antioch's gift at one point. It is not as unbeatable a wand as one thinks… and things are beginning to make sense now…" A cultured voice broke in from the doorway. "You, or shall I say, this… version of your son, tracked them all down?"

"Not just tracked them all down, owned and mastered them at one point before throwing the stone away where it would not be found and snapping the wand…" James was unsurprised, as the man had stood in the doorway behind Sirius and Orion throughout his explanation. Now that he had a moment he took in the changes in the older man.

Where before, his imbibing of the Elixir had returned vitality, and had grown his hair, both on his head and his beard until it was bushy and nearly as wild as Hagrid at his worst. It gave the older wizard a wild, and slightly maddened look.

This Gellert was nearly the complete opposite.

James was somewhat surprised as he expected that the man would perhaps be a near reflection of Dumbledore, keeping the long beard, but with braids and time taken to groom it, with hair that was long as well. This Gellert was neither. His white hair had streaks of grey and had been cut short, and was slicked back smooth. While he still had a beard, Gellert had cropped it short, and like the hair on his head was white streaked with grey. He was wearing clothing provided by the Potter elves, as they looked dated in style, but brand new, and very formal. All in all, cleaned up he was looking healthy and spry.

James acknowledged the man with a nod of his head and watched as Gellert entered the room while both of the Black's had turned to watch him cautiously. The older man's eyes had widened in surprise at mentioning what had been done with the other parts of the Hallows.

"To master death, but not be consumed by that?" Gellert murmured, his voice more musing than it was an actual question. He looked up at James and raised a cultured eyebrow in curiosity, "Do you mind?"

James narrowed his eyes in confusion for a moment before he realized that at the edge of his senses he could feel a tendril of the man's magic reach out, in the air, but stop before it reached him. "No, go ahead." James said, having an inkling of what the man was searching for and allowing the man's magic to test his.

James could feel as Grindelwald sent more of his magic, the tendril swelling. It was probing, searching, testing him and Gellert's eyebrow raised as he looked at the young Potter, "You aren't lying. Not just the cloak, the wand and stone, too, have left their mark…"

Sirius and Orion shot him looks of unadulterated curiosity, though they had heard he knew of their whereabouts, it was something else entirely to get a hold of them.

As the two Blacks looked at each other, they were hit with tendrils of Grindelwald's magic. It pushed at them, prodded and forced them to flex their own, or be swallowed up in another's magic.

"But, more than touched, you… have an impressive and vast amount of magical potential waiting to be unleashed," Gellert said staring at James, his eyes flicking over to Sirius," Strong potential," he stated before assessing his final companion with a solitary word of commentary, "Satisfactory."

The magic within the room receded and Gellert turned his back to James and took a seat in the only vacant chair left in the study. "I had wondered why you had need of me when your own magical power is stronger than my own, even if you don't have the skill yet."

Orion looked sharply at James, before looking back at Gellert.

"As I told you, it's not just about your power. It's about your name. I told you I don't have time to make everyone fear me, not when it would merely provoke Tom into more pointless atrocities. It would be hard to make people fear me to the extent needed." James shrugged, answering honestly, "Where as you…"

"People still fear my name." Gellert nodded slightly, a faint smile curving his lips. "As to the rest of your story. I would hear more. My initial thought was like Mr. Black the elder, perhaps you had experienced an intense vision of the future. Unusual... but not unheard of. But I've not heard of the sort of event you describe. And a vision would not explain what I sense in your magic."

At the looks of surprise that he was garnering from all three men, at how easily he had seemed to accept James' words. He scoffed, "Gentlemen, one does not casually wander into Nurmengard and free me on a whim. Nor is it easily done. And… there is very little I do not think magic is capable of. So I would hear more."

James sighed and settled in a chair, deciding he wasn't going to play the cards close to his vest with all of them, but determined to swear them to secrecy after.

\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\V/\

There were times when Dumbledore truly felt every day of his many decades alive on the earth. Days where his joints ached as if there was a sudden drop in the seasonal temperature. Days where the weight his shoulders have long been burdened by, weigh on him more normal. There were days where the responsibilities of all his titles, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, bogged him down and mired him in a workload that was difficult to withstand.

Yet, none of those, nor even the combination of them, were enough to be comparable to today.

He had just arrived back in his office, via phoenix, when he sank down into the chair behind his desk in his office with a weary sigh.

He had been awoken from a rather pleasant dream when his floo had burst open, a frantic voice calling his name. Dumbledore had gotten up immediately, wondering if a student had been seriously hurt or if Voldemort had attacked someone.

He had not even been remotely prepared for a voice with a heavy Austrian accent to tell him that there was a problem at Nurmengard.

The instant that word had been spoken, Albus had been moving, calling for Fawkes. His companion of many years had sensed his need and, acting with urgency, had been there in a few seconds. Waiting only long enough for him to send a patronus message to his deputy headmistress, and then Albus was traveling across thousands of miles in the matter of a few moments.

He'd found himself standing not far from a group of over a dozen witches and wizards. Only one of them turned on his arrival, flashy as it was, with Fawkes' flames. Dumbledore could hardly blame them. The entire castle was alight in emerald and sapphire flames. Flames that were slowly consuming the structure.

"Do we know what happened… ?" Albus asked the official who had finally moved over to him. He let his voice trail off in a question since he didn't recognize the man on sight. His eyes went to the tower that he knew had contained his old friend. It was in flames and slowly burning like the rest of the structure.

"Commander Hans Gruber, Supreme Warlock Dumbledore. And… no no, magical alarms went off saying someone breached the wards. It was already all on fire when our response teams got here. It took them a few minutes." He confessed the last part with a grimace on his face.

"Do we know if…" Albus let the statement hang as he looked away from the burning castle to the man.

"Yeah… we think so," the man gestured over toward the main entrance, causing Albus to look away from the flames on the castle to the flames on the gate… and then more specifically the flames that burnt the ground in front of the gate.

Albus felt a weight settle in his stomach as he looked down at the flames burning on the ground. It was a triangle inside a circle, with the three points touching a circle, and bisected by a single line.

The symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The one symbol Gellert used.

Fawkes had crooned and flown about but the impact of what had surely taken place could not be driven away from his now weary soul. Gellert Grindelwald had escaped and was at large.

No one else would have been as brazen to announce responsibility.

Albus had spent the rest of the night and early morning answering the same questions as word spread through the leadership of any number of countries who had all come to the site and, more specifically, to him when they had realized he'd already been contacted. He had only been able to leave the site minutes earlier.

He sent a quick message spell to his deputy headmistress to let her know he was back. He wasn't surprised that he was only there in his chair a few minutes when the stairway to his office rose. A glimpse up told him it was his deputy headmistress.

Minerva was concerned when she stepped in the office, a concern that only deepened when she saw how tired the headmaster seemed, "Albus, is everything alright?"

The headmaster reached up and removed his glasses, tossing them on his desk and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No my dear, I daresay everything is not alright."

"What happened… did… did You-Know-Who attack someone?" She asked, a trace of dread filling her voice.

"No, for once it had nothing to do with-" Dumbledore started only to be cut off by a surge from his fireplace.

"Hälsningar, Albus Dumbledore, may I come through and speak with you?" a female voice with an accent spoke into the fire.

Albus sighed slightly with a glance at McGonagall with a look of apology, before speaking up, "Of course, please come through." He looked up apologetically at McGonagall, but shook his head slightly when she gave a wordless gesture toward the door, asking if she should go.

He knew she'd have questions and that he was likely in for a long day. The response to the escape of his old friend would send shockwaves around the entire magical world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's notes.

Wow! Another story. What a shock. Kat's muse wandered off again and spat out another start. Before anyone gets too excited. This is one of the stories that has actually been on my google drive for like… 2 years. But I was trying to bolster up two or three chapters before I started posting. But… then doctoral studies came and punched me in the face. So I thought I'd share it.

I liked the idea of a Harry losing everything from betrayal rather than Voldemort. It's cliche and I own that. But hopefully it's gone in a fun direction. I've never seen much use of Grindelwald in stories. The idea of him showing up and having an effect on things? And ripple effect from him?

I have a lot of thoughts for this. This duality between Harry and James. Interactions between Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort, Death Eaters, people who've been left behind at hogwarts.

No. I don't know pairings. My characters are assholes in that I just set them up. They go in their own directions no matter what I may want.

Since I almost ALWAYS have to visually picture a character to write them with any skill. In my head, the late great Sir Christopher Lee would play an excellent older Grindelwald. I'm thinking there would be a lot of similarities between him and Count Dooku, so I think it fits. Admittedly I also considered Jeremy Irons, for the same gravitance he displays. But definitely think the beard would be a thing and Sir Christopher Lee would have been a better fit. Jeremy Irons had to settle for being cast as Orion in my head. Poor guy.

Did anyone catch my Alan Rickman reference? I hope so :) It amused me. I'm half brain dead so it might just be stupidly amusing only to me. Refining a literature review and creating a methodology and research protocol and submitting them to get permission to work with human subjects? BRAIN FRYING.

No idea when I'll update this again. If anyone likes the concept feel free to take it in their own directions.

Alternate Titles:

If one is good, two must be better!- Dark Lords

"With our powers combined I am…"- James and Harry

"What are you going to call yourself? yourselves? Hames? Jarry? Jamry?" - Sirius

"What? No! Those are stupid. I'm going with James." - James & Harry

"How about you use an anagram? I hear good things about those." - Tom Riddle.

"No. Just no." - James

"Terrible things happen when you mess with time." - Hermione

"Yes. You become privy to your father's teenage fantasies about your teenage mother. As if I didn't have about a thousand reasons to need therapy. - Harry.

"Yes. Sort of like being traumatized knowing about your own death and the deaths of everyone you know." - James.

"Oh my god. I need to get you laid. Or you'll be all emo again and end up in another of Kat's stories without sex!" - Sirius.

"Yes. I'm glad that is what you took from what we shared." - James

"Hey. Priorities man." - Sirius.

"Why am I portrayed as a nag?" - Lily

"Totally Sirius' fault." - James.

"My family is batshit insane." - Sirius

"Yeah. That apple doesn't fall far from the tree." - James

"James is a crappy liar." - Sirius.

"Or alternatively: the author didn't hide the whole time traveling thing for story reasons simply to create extra tension." - James