Again, all previous apply. Kudos to any who guessed, way to go, cookies to you all! (Though, sadly, not Echo's cookies. huff)
Sweet Merlin... he'd done it. He'd managed to step into another world... and it looked a whole bloody lot like his own.
That was fine, he'd been expecting it. Though... according to the wizard he'd gotten the spell from, there were infinite possibilities-- like worlds without shrimp.
He'd wandered a bit. He'd admit to that. But he'd blame it on the need to get his bearings, make certain he had the right place-- never on a fear of seeing what had happened. And... after sitting in a pub listening to the reports of 'terrorists striking in Scotland' and odd explosions involving 'peat gas' and 'weather balloons' in the muggle news he'd decided he had the right one.
Time to head to Hogwarts... talk to Dumbledore. The man knew everything... he should be able to help him deal with a ghost. Though they were likely to think him one.
Hogwarts wasn't as James expected it, really.
One year later and the others were still rebuilding. Classes had been suspended for the interim. That alone told him how bad it was.
Taking a deep breath, he heads up the path to the school from Hogsmeade, cloak pulled tight about him in the chill. He could do this... he was a grown auror. He could go back to a school that thought him dead by years and talk to one person.
It was harder than expected because Fate likes things difficult.
The big clue should have been the day starting so well, sunny bright with no clouds, just a chill scottish wind and a bit of mud telling of rain the night before.
It went downhill from there.
Harry'd neglected to tell him that Snivellus-- err. Severus Snape worked at the school, and that he was an excellent shot with a hex.
Good thing James was still better. Otherwise he might not have all his limbs at the moment.
Peeking over the edge of a large piece of rubble-- apparently a tower had fallen-- he calls out "I'm just here to talk! Listen for a moment please!"
The Slytherin stepped out of the doorway then, revealing a too-thin man in heavy dark robes, leaning on a cane, wand still at ready. "You made a mistake in coming here wearing that guise!" The familiar voice sounded... tired.
"Look Snivellus," he snaps, "I'm here to talk about Harry."
"Fan-bloody-tastic. He's dead. What else do you wish to know?" comes the scathing reply, the darker man shifting, robes flaring enough to let the metal stabilizing one leg catch light for the briefest of instances.
"Snape... I need to talk to Albus. I'm here on Harry's behalf. He couldn't come himself... so I did." He speaks, not even willing the wizard to believe him as it wouldn't help.
Clattering footsteps fortold the arrival of others, and James sighs, pushing a hand through his hair, mussing the unruly locks even more. "Bloody hells," He mumbles peeking out and catching sight of red hair. Weasleys.
"Okay, Weasleys sound off please?" He calls, back to the stones, facing away from them.
Murmuring comes then, the new arrivals confering with Snape.
"Got him!" A female voice shouts, followed by "Expelliarimus!"
James has a brief second to look up before his wands flips into the red-headed girl on a broomstick's hand and he goes flipping over his cover to land in a heap in the grass. "Hells," he mumbles, sitting up and adjusting his glasses, glaring up at several wands and amused black eyes. "You enjoyed that too much Snivellus." He growls, hands staying where they could see.
"Who are you and why are you here?" comes the first-- if a bit droll-- question from the bulky red-head to his left, the young man's blue eyes glaring down at him, short hair sticking up in all directions.
"James Potter, speaking on behalf of Harry Potter." James smiles slightly, the expression showing that he knew just how unbelievable his statement was, even before Severus could snort from that overly large nose of his.
"Funny, you don't look like a ghost," comes from the girl hovering above them, her arms crossed over her chest, face otherwise blank.
"That's because he's not a ghost, Ms. Weasley," Snape snipes, still glaring at James.
James sighs, shoulders rolling in a shrug. "Look. I know Harry's dead. Hells he lives in my bloody flat since Godric's Hollow was destroyed the night he showed up out of no where and took out the Dark Lord," He frowns, meeting Snape's eyes. The Slytherin had always claimed to know when he was lying. "I'm from the past and a seperate Reality... the ghost of Harry Potter saved my life-- probably would've saved Lily's too if I weren't such a pratt, but that's beside the point. He's been... well 'living' with me. Helping me out and I want to reciprocate."
"Why would you help a ghost?" The first person who'd spoke asks, voice soft, eyes reflecting a lot of pain. He looked about the age Harry should be... if you ignored the years in his eyes.
"Ron. Ignore him. He's just trying to get into the castle to do something horrible." Even the girl sounded unsettled.
Swallowing, the auror shifts his gaze, meeting Ron's eyes. "I'd help a ghost because he's afraid to come home. But he so badly wants to know who survived. He apparently missed that part, being dead and all." He knows the last part would hurt, it was meant to. The pain might do the kid some good.
The red-head recoils slightly, one of the others touching him lightly on the shoulder, but Ron shakes his head, "M'fine." he grunts, wand steadiness renewed.
"You may be, but he's not. He's fading... and I'd really rather not have that." James sighs, tossing his hair, bored already. "Can we get on with the killing of me or whatever you do to people around here?"
"We try not to kill anymore..." The voice comes from behind Snape and James blinks. Albus sounded... old. "And we certainly won't make an exception for you, James Potter."
James grins, eyes flicking to Snape with an 'I told you so' expression evident. Merlin, how many years since he'd seen the man and he still had to provoke him and act like a third year? Very mature.
Snape sneers, the wands lowering. Apparently he'd been cleared.
"Hi Headmaster..." He smiles at the old wizard, wondering for perhaps the first time how old Dumbledor was... he looked about 300.
The wizard nods, beckoning them all back inside as he turns, a staff helping him walk. "Come inside... we have much to talk about."
The group nods collectively, making the dark haired Gryffindor graduate arch a brow, wondering how long these people had been staying up here... alone with their own paranoia as he follows them into the castle, the girl flying off to presumably finish makng rounds.
James sighs, looking back over his shoulder before the heavy doors close. He had a lot of explaining to do.
Ah well. He smiles to himself, it wasn't the first time.