Previous Disclaimers apply. See Chapter One: Catalyst.

Harry smiles, looking down at the small boy playing with some magical blocks on the floor. He sighs softly, wistfully, lips never losing their curve.

The dark head swivels as the front door handle jiggles and he chuckles softly, crossing the room to go open it. "Hello James. Forget your keys again?" Green eyes crinkle as he grins, teasing the tired Auror.

"Yeah.. rough day... they're probably on my desk. Under paperwork," he frowns darkly for a moment, taking off his outer robe and loosening his tie as he comes further into the room, smiling down at the toddler on the floor. "He wasn't too much trouble, was he? He's getting overly curious..."

"Nope. Never gives me trouble, I've told you that."

James nods, picking his son up from the rubble of bricks, eyes saddening as his mind offersimage of the rubble Godric's Hollow had been fairly reduced to by the aftershock of the Dark Lord's passing.

A year later... and it was still difficult. Thank his stars for Harry. Remus and Sirius were still searching for Peter Pettigrew-- they knew that he wasn't dead despite his last-ditch effort (the results of which had taken out 12 muggles in the crossfire). No body... no dead wizard. A finger wasn't enough for those two, and James couldn't blame them.

But Harry was here to help him with Harry. Brown eyes flick to the image of himself at 17, gaze softening as the Gryffindor goes about cooking him dinner.

It was odd to see his own son as he'd look 15 years in the future... He claimed his own future hadn't been changed. He'd only succeeded in 'creating an alternate version of reality as he knew it'... Said he'd had to try something.

James could believe his explanation. After all, he still existed and the universe had not yet come grinding to a halt from an inoperable paradox.

But it was still wierd. Had to be odd for the young man in question as well.

He chuckles, taking Harry into the dining room and setting him in the highchair. "You're so domestic, it's odd."

"Only because you haven't seen it before," comes the automatic reply. His reply for James' every comment on the oddity of his existence. This time, though, he had more.

"I think the phrase goes... 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" Green eyes sparkle, his effervescent cheerfulness dispite his situation evident.

James laughs, shaking his head. "Spending your nights reading, then?"

Dark hair shifts as Harry nods, handing the other wizard the baby's dinner. "I sneak into libraries... you two don't need me here... so I go out." He shrugs, shoulders rolling in their black robes, James noting that the colors on him were bold today.

His usual streaks of silver of dark grey were matted out, taking on the tones of mud and... blood if he weren't incorrect.

James ruffles his son's hair, eyes leaving the wizard to look at his son. Maybe he should take the Weasley's up on their offer to help him with little Harry... If he had some spare time he could help the person who'd helped him. Reciprocate...

"What's wrong?" Asks Harry, setting a spot for James at the table. "You're out of milk, by the way."

James smirks, "I bet you never thought that all your Hogwarts training would go to pot so you could be a nanny and a housewife."

The other barely flinches, green eyes dimming only slightly. "No... but I don't mind. It's better than what I would have had. No one here knows I exist. I had a hard enough time in school being gawked at. Can you imagine what would happen now?"

The auror shakes his head, watching the colors dim on him as his emotions shift. They grade back upward, brightening out as he goes back to work, putting James' plate out then starting on the dishes.

"True. I guess it would be hard... Being--"

"The Boy Who Lived." Harry whispers softly, hands on the edge of the counter, knuckles whiter than usual. The wood of the countertop makes a soft groaning sound, and he releases, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I miss them sometimes... My friends. I want to know who made it."

James nods, watching his 'guest'. "Well... can't you go back?"

Harry shrugs, "I haven't tried... I don't see why I couldn't. But..."

"You're scared."

Green eyes narrow, anger filling the room then draining out. "Yeah. I am." He sighs, voice a whisper.

The Auror shrugs, eating and speaking with Harry until it was time to put the baby to bed. He picks the child up and heads for the stairs, looking over his shoulder as the spectre of a young man sitting in the window seat. "You could always go look in on them... and come back."

The Auror heads upstairs without another word, tucking his son in and giving it some thought. Maybe he'd let Molly take little Harry for a while... and he could find a spell to slip over to Harry's world.... He knew it had been done. He wanted to help.

Even if he the person in need was just the ghost of a 17 year old War Hero. /drabble