Fullmetal Alchemist: Remember this masterpiece series? I've tried writing in this beautiful fandom and I love it! Son of Hughes (Yes, Maes Hughes, and Nina, lives and is a main character) and because it is among my favourite series and I'm half done writing it already, it will be updating every Friday! (Sound the music now AppoApples promising an update schedule!?) I mean it's not this fic but it's Fullmetal ;D

Chapter 12 - Because Fire

Lucius was distracted as he recuffed Potter's hands behind after than man had eaten.

Which was probably unwise given Pettigrew had slipped into a coma.

But it was hard to care when his wife had backed her and Draco's bags.

She was leaving.

And taken his son worth her.

Worst of all, he didn't think she was wrong to. The Dark Lord grew more crazed each day.

So it wasn't a question of if she was leaving, but of when she was leaving.

Lucius had been checking two to three times a day if she had left the bags out or shrunken and pocketed them.

Once she did the latter, he knew it would be over.

The bell chimed and Lucius swore. He rose and turned away, only to swear again when he tripped on his robes and nearly fell on his face.

He turned to glare at Potter who sat against the wall and glowered back at him.

The bell rang again and Lucius hurried out, locking the dungeon cell behind him.

He got to the front door as Narcissa opened it.

Severus was there.

"What are you doing here?" Lucius hissed.

Severus entered and looked as if he meant to answer but Narcissa stepped around him and out the door.

Lucius felt his heart break as he watched her go.

He stood there, holding onto the door as he watched her blonde curls tangle in the wind, her dark robes trailing over the path like a dark mirror of their wedding day.

He wanted more than anything to call out to her, to beg that she returned.

But she was in the right, just as she had been all those years ago; Lucius had chosen the losing side.

He watched until she crossed the appration line, a sharp crack her last goodbye.

She hadn't even looked back.

He would have.

But then, she had always been the strong one.

"Lucius?" Severus asked as the door was finally shut.

"Don't ask," Lucius snarled.

"I don't give a shit about your marriage, is your floor supposed to be smoking?"

Lucius spun, reaching for his wand and finding it wasn't there.

Fuck.


Years of being a mischief maker were about to pay off big.

James had palmed Lucius' wand, he didn't need it to transform. He did need to slow captors down.

He transformed the basement stone into wood, pine wood, then used about the only dark spell he had ever wanted to learn.

Because fire.

Fiendye Fire to be precise, which he himself field from once he cast it. It was child's play to transform and get out the dungeon window. The idiots had spelled the bars not the glass against magical tampering.

And once he was out, he was running.

He was in the countryside.

It was Autumn.

Lily was dead.

But Harry and Sirius were alive.

He could make it to the Forbidden Forest, the last thing he heard before disapparating was the sound of a crackling fire roaring to life.


Harry and Luna stayed out late that night. The thestrals were behaving oddly, kept herding Harry deeper into the forest. Growing tired, Harry was about to ignore them and bully their way back to the castle, which is when he saw it.

A stag.

And then it transformed…

His breath caught, "Dad?"

The man hesitated, but nodded, stepping closer. And damn if they didn't just look alike?

But it couldn't be James Potter.

Harry wouldn't be a fool again. Voldemort's visions made sense now.

The bastard really shouldn't have gone to the elaborate trap. It was too elaborate to work and having seen Sirius tortured in nightmares and killed in person, he knew he couldn't trust his emotions.

Harry raised his wand, stepping in front of Luna.

"Harry? It's me son, your dad," the man said, raising empty hands.

"My father's dead," Harry said.

The man's face twisted in sorrow, "They buried me."

Harry's heart ached, but his heart had led him astray before. When he spoke his voice was dry and sardonic, "You expect me to believe that Voldemort, who hated my father, let him live? And beyond that, that anyone could survive, fifteen years buried underground?"

"Voldemort is obsessed with immortality, Harry, he's found things in magic that most people would never dare dream of, but also things he would never perform on himself. There was every chance of something going wrong when he experimented on me."

Harry could almost believe that, but believing something as good as father coming back from the dead happening to Harry Potter? Not likely.

"What about the embalming process, how did you survive that?" he challenged.

The man claiming to be James Potter frowned, eyes flicking back and forth as if searching his mind for a memory or definition. "Embalming?" he finally asked.

Harry was about to get way more detailed than Luna deserved but they were discussing resurrection, so this was already more morbid than anyone deserved. "Yes, embalming, when you're prepared for death. They glue your eyelids shut, stuff your mouth with cotton, sew your jaw shut, drain your body of blood and other fluids. If you were buried in a coffin, and because I know my parents had a big funeral, there is no way you could have survived that."

James' expression of scandalised horror was near comical, "That is disgusting. Is that what muggles do with their dead?"

Harry shrugged, "I personally want to be cremated and have my ashes thrown in the ocean. I've been in enough forsaken rituals, when I die I would like to stay that way."

James shook his head, "Your mother and I were not turned into modern mummies, Harry. Wizards do it differently, a preserving charm is all that's needed."

Harry frowned and glanced over his shoulder, "Is he right, Luna?"

She nodded, "Yes, though there wasn't enough left of my mother, so my father had her cremated. But your parents died of the Killing Curse, so they would have been relatively easy to treat for a coffin."

"It wasn't the Killing Curse for me, the spell was white, not green." James sighed, "Okay, as morbid as my coming back from the dead is, I think we've gotten a bit off track. Harry, is there anything I can say that would convince you I am who I say I am?"

Harry blinked, Was there? Everything he knew about his parents was learned second hand but maybe there were a bunch of things in combination that might prove it.

He had his free hand behind him and he squeezed Luna's wrist three times.

One of their signals for, Go get help.

Luna snatched the invisibility cloak from his pocket and bolted up to the castle.

James' eyes followed her, and Harry let some of his magic spark light at the end of his wand, "Eyes on me, buddy."

"Harry—"

"Where's my mum?"

"Voldemort played with me, but he must not have done so with Lily. His mistake, given it lost him a body."

"What do you mean?"

"Lily was a bit of a genius, she set up a ward of protection around you, a blood ward, it would protect you against the one who killed her."

He blinked, "That's how I survived the Killing Curse?"

"Yes, Harry, and I'm so sorry we couldn't protect you. You are our world."

The present tense did not slip Harry's notice.

"So if she were still alive, if he did whatever he did to you to her, I'd be dead?"

James nodded.

"You should have saved yourselves."

James's eyes widened, "No! Harry, how could you think—" he lurched forward.

Harry raised his wand higher, "Don't."

And the man froze, but he didn't stop speaking, "Life wouldn't have been worth living without you. I couldn't have survived it."

"But living without your wife?" Harry challenged cruelly. Crouch Jr. had been an excellent actor, although he had just been a mad man pretending to be a different kind of mad man.

Tears spilled down James's cheeks and his voice was rough, as he said, "My heart is broken. But she died protecting you. There are regrets, but not that. We'll see her in the next life, but you are here now and I have fifteen years to make up for."

Harry's heart twisted, it's what he wished Sirius had said. But he couldn't let himself believe this, it would break him.

"Alright, let's start easy," Harry said. "How did my mother's parents die?"

"They were killed by Death Eaters."

Harry nodded, that's what Snape had said, then again, a lot of people must have known that.

"Is that why Aunt Petunia hates me?"

James shrugged, "Probably. Lily's sister was always hateful and cruel. She was jealous of Lily, in all things. She wanted to be a witch, you know."

"Come off it," Harry scoffed.

"Cross my heart and…" he trailed off. "Ask me anything, Harry."

"What happened in your sixth year?"

"Referring to Sirius and Snape?" James asked, arching a brow.

Harry nodded.

"I'm surprised Sirius told you about that, but it was an unfortunate mix of screw ups. Snape had more or less figured out what your Uncle Remus was, but he wanted to prove it. The idiot even tried taking a camera with him. Sirius never should have exposed us like that, he put everyone in danger. But Sirius didn't mean to nearly kill the fool, yet that's how it played out and I was able to step in before anything irrevocable could happen."

"Why wasn't Dumbledore the Secret Keeper?"

"Because your mother didn't trust him, she thought Albus could be too focused or set toward his own goals, regardless of who he ran over in the process. But we should have trusted him. Instead, we trusted..."

"A literal rat?" Harry asked, wondering how long it would take help to arrive.

James winced, "Yes."

"When did you wake up?"

"Last month, well, at least I think it's been a month."

Which is when Harry let himself believe, and horror filled him that he had not gone to Snape sooner.

Swallowing hard, he asked, "Voldemort has been interrogating…"

"Yes," James answered before he finished the question.

"What did he want to know?"

"He wanted to know Sirius's weaknesses."

"Why?"

"To get at you I suspect."

"Did he tell you what had happened to me?"

"What year is it?"

"How old am I?" Harry countered.

"I don't know, sixteen?" James guessed then asked. "How old are you really?"

Harry winced, "Basically fifteen?"

James frowned, "Basically?"

"It's 1995."

"I've missed so much," he breathed looking down at his feet.

Reminding Harry that his parents were only twenty-one when they died.

Which meant they were only five years apart now. Harry didn't know what to do, what to believe at this point because he wanted to believe.

Then he got an idea, "Do you have a wand?"

James looked up, "Yes."

"Can you summon a Patronus?" Harry asked, Remus having told him once that no true Death Eater could summon one.

"Of course," James said.

Harry waited.

"Oh right, sorry," James mumbled, reaching into his pocket. He froze for a moment, as if unable to recall a memory.

Then he looked at Harry again, emotions passed over his face like clouds, unreadable but finally some peace fell over him and pointing his wand to the side he said; "Expecto Patronum!"

Harry watched silver light spread its wings as silver Thestral took flight above them.

One of the true Thestrals launched itself from the herd, dancing with the luminous magic like yin and yang in the twilight sky.

Harry blinked back tears, his throat going tight. When he met his father's gaze he seemed a bit confused.

"Well," James said, sounding a bit stunned himself. "That's the third time it's changed, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

One of the mares bumped Harry's shoulder as he asked, "What were the others?"

"The first was a doe, like your mother. Then it turned into a puppy, after you were born. You were every inch a mama's baby. But you would chase after Padfoot any time he was over. Your first word was dog."

Harry couldn't quite suppress the smile at that but asked, "Why aren't you surprised it's changed again?"

"Because you've changed," James said, taking a step forward, Harry didn't protest and James stole another step forward.

"I'm your Patronus?"

James's smile was soft as he answered, "I loved you from the moment your mother told me we were having you. I never thought I could love another person more than I loved her, but from the moment I held you, I knew I would remake the world to keep you safe, do anything to see you smile."

Harry's lips pressed together in an effort not to cry, to hold out a little longer.

He thought Voldemort had been a fool to taunt him with his father, Harry saw now to have his father be real, to love him and be loved by him:

And then lose him.

Harry didn't know if his sanity could survive it. He was only mostly sure he could survive losing Sirius again because he already had. Because maybe Sirius would be better off, didn't have all his mental faculties with him and that he probably would be happier in heaven.

But James Potter?

James was Harry's, Harry had known the loss of him every day of his life.

The aching chasm of knowing he had no one to make proud, no one to look toward for example, no one to ask for protection or advice from. No one who would love him for just being theirs.

He felt too much guilt about his mother to miss her like that, sure, he would die for her, without question, but a part of him had remembered her dying for him, associated her memory with pain, and a smaller part of him had feared her greatly.

What if she had been like Aunt Petunia?

No one, aside from Aunt Marge, ever said anything specifically bad about his mother aside from her poor choice in husbands. Harry had viewed that as a warning sign.

While his father? They had demeaned him constantly, and anyone the Dursleys disapproved of that strongly was probably a good person.

So here he stood, his father, back from the dead, another one of Voldemort's cruel games that Harry was considering falling into head long.

James had passed his test, hadn't he? If a

Death Eaters could not summon Patronus, and Harry was willing to assume, neither could a zombie.

So there was his proof, dancing above them in a silver mist.

So why was he still hesitating?

"Can you perform the charm?" James asked.

Harry nodded, lips still tightly pressed together to fend off humiliating himself, he managed the spell wordlessly.

Using his hope, the blinding moment of the thestral Patronus's appearance as his happy thought.

James gasped as the buck pranced around him before taking up to the sky to dance with the other Patronus and thestrals.

"Me?" James asked, voice thick.

Harry finally found the words to say, "You're my dad. You protect me."

Because of time travel, oddly enough, Harry had seen in his own reflection the man who he had wanted to be. Who he had wanted his father to be.

With a horde of dementors circling around him and Sirius, Harry had seen what he wanted to see, what he wanted to believe.

That his father hadn't been a sacrifice, but a fighter.

The father he prayed for all his life to come back for him. He'd seen his mother die in front of him.

But he hadn't seen his father die, and his child's mind must have clung to that hope that one day soon, his dad would come back from him.

As soon as he was able.

And perhaps today, he finally had.

"Harry?" James asked, taking another cautious step forward.

But Harry had burned through his caution. Right then, he didn't care if this was another trap, or if this was how he died, some dreams were worth dying for.

He crossed the final space between them and threw his arms around his father's waist. James hugged him back just as fiercely as Harry buried his face in the man's chest.

He smelled the sweat and blood and Harry didn't care because he was solid and real as the tears that fell on his shoulder, "I love you, Harry. I love you more than anything in this world or the next."

Harry clung to him, feeling small, and young, and completely lost.

Only his father's arms were holding him together.


AN: If you like Fullmetal Alchemist, please give my story Son of Hughes a chance?