Title: Time And Time Again
Author name: Moonstarlet
Author email: sailorcomet18@yahoo.com
Category: Humor, History, Romance
Keywords: Harry, Lily, James
Spoilers: PS/SS, COS, POA, GOF
Rating: Won the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature in 1803

Summary: Voldemort plans to go back in time to kill James and Lily before Harry is ever born. Can Harry save his mom and dad? What happens when the mom *likes* the son? Plus, the Marauders at 15...oh lordy!
Disclaimer:
JKR, WB, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, et al own Harry Potter and any related characters, spells, setting, etc. I am making no money from this and intend no copyright infringement.

A/N: ::announcers voice:: In the last episode of Time And Time Again, Harry brought his Quidditch team to victory against the Ravenclaws... ''with sexy results.'' Harry then confronted James about James's childish nature... ''with sexy results.''

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Winter Break, 1995

The Tower was mostly empty. Considering the events of the previous summer, most families wanted to spend as much time together as possible. Ron and Hermione, however--working under the assumptions that (a) Harry had no real, living, loving family to stay with and (b) something odd was happening to him--decided to stay at Hogwarts during the break.

Hermione spent most morning's during the holidays in the library. She told Harry that she was preparing for the OWLS, which were only a few months away, but she was actually looking for something else.

"Abnormal magical abilities, " she told Ron, when she was sure that Harry wasn't around. "If there is something 'different' about Harry, it's unlikely that he's the first. There will be reports of other wizards who were or are like Harry."

"And what if there aren't?"

Hermione glowered at Ron, wondering why he deigned to ask such a ridiculous question. "There will be. There always is."

During the afternoons, Hermione hid herself in whatever corner was farthest from Harry. There, she poured over book after book, searching for something (anything) similar to what she and Ron had seen Harry do that night on the Astronomy tower.

Ron usually kept Harry from bothering Hermione by distracting him with Quidditch, Exploding Snap, Wizard's Chess, Marvin Miggs the Mad Muggle and impressions of Snape's private life.

"Oh, hello, my dear! How do you do?" Ron said in a falsely high voice. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Severus Snape, but you, my dear, can call me Cynthia. All of my close, personal friends do."

Ron delicately placed a hand against his chest, thoroughly engrossed in the scene his was enacting. "What do you think of my dress, my dear? My pet snake—who is, of course, my only friend—said that it makes me look fat. But I must say, I disagree."

Here, Ron paused as if listening to the invisible person's reply. Harry was laughing so hard that tears were leaking out of his eyes. Every so often he would gasp out the words "can't... breathe..." But, Ron continued.

"I look scintillating? Oh, my dear, you are too kind. What do you think of these shoes? I think they make my legs look quite slim." Ron stretched out a leg, modeling the unseen shoes.

"Oh, yes, I agree" he went on. "Lavender is my color. Why, it makes my pale skin look quite ghastly. But I must say, I believe that pink goes quite well with my skin, too. Don't you--"

"Do you mind?" Hermione cut in. "I can't concentrate with all the noise you're making."

Slowly recovering, Harry replied, "Come on, Hermione. It's the holidays, why don't you put the books away and join us? You've been studying all week."

"Correction, my good mate," Ron said. "She's been studying all year. Likely even in her sleep." He looked back to Hermione, "Come on, love, put the books away and have some fun."

Harry's jaw dropped. Hermione blushed.

"Love? Did you just call me 'love'?"

Eyes wide, Ron looked to Harry for help. Harry grinned, "Well, Ron. Did you?"

Ron's eyes promised that Harry would be punished.

"I didn't mean..., you know... 'love.' I meant..., you know. It's an expression. It doesn't mean..., you know. It's just an expression. It doesn't mean anything."

"Sure it doesn't." Harry covered a grin with his hand.

"Shut up, Harry." Ron returned his attention to Hermione. "Come on, Hermie. Whatever you're looking at can wait. Nothing 'different' has happened in awhile."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean 'different?'" Harry asked, confused.

Hermione quickly answered, "He just means the professors have been reviewing old subjects. We haven't learned anything different in quite awhile." She sighed, put the book on her lap on a nearby table, then joined Harry and Ron.

"Alright. You win. I'll stop studying. I can't get much work done with the noise you two are making, anyway."

Harry suddenly sobered. He was thinking about his father. Why shouldn't he tell Ron and Hermione what was happening? It wasn't like James was doing much to be discreet. He could trust Ron and Hermione, he always had. And, besides, he was tired of keeping secrets, especially for his wanker of a dad.

Ron was pulling a pack of Exploding Snap from his front pocket, when he saw Harry shake his head. "What's up?" he asked.

Harry looked at his feet. Well, at least they're still solid. Maybe he's decided to stop playing games all the time and take somethings seriously.

"Um, I've got something I need to tell you."

Ron and Hermione shared a glance. Harry saw it.

"What? What was that about?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied. "Just go ahead and tell us."

"Alright. Um, I didn't really want to keep this from you guys, but Professor Dumbledore made me. He said-"

"Dumbledore knows?" Ron asked, shocked.

Harry frowned. "Well, yeah. He's the one who told me."

"You mean you didn't find it out by yourself?"

"Ron!" Hermione cried. "I've told you about this before: if you're going to keep interrupting people when they're trying to tell you something, you'll never find out what it is they want to say."

Ron ignored this. "We already know what he's gonna say. I just-"

"Wait a minute!" Harry said. "How do you already know? Oh, I know. You saw him right? He's so stupid. Dumbledore told him to stay in his room, but no, he has go and wander the halls like everything's normal and he's not a-"

"Saw who?" Ron and Hermione asked together.

"My dad."

Ron and Hermione shared another glance.

"Uh, Harry," Ron said tentatively. "Your dad is, um, kinda, you know, dead."

Harry waved a dismissing hand at Ron. "Yeah, I know he's dead. But, he's not dead, too."

There was another, longer glance between Ron and Hermione.

"Could you explain that for us, Harry?" Hermione said. "I'm not sure we understand what you mean."

Harry nodded. "Right, it goes like this..."

Harry explained what was going on and how it had happened. How Pettigrew had transported James Potter twenty years into the future in order to fulfill his life-debt to Harry. How James was being kept in a set of rooms until Dumbledore could figure out what to do with him.

"Can we meet him?" Ron asked. "It'd be wicked awesome to meet you dad." Harry hesitated. The last thing he wanted was for Ron and Hermione to meet his father. "I don't think that's a good idea. He's kind of... no, he's very much a jackass. Besides, we had this big fight the other day and I don't want to talk to him."

"That's alright, Harry. You don't have to go with us. You could just tell us where he--"

"Ron! You're being very insensitive."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. If Harry doesn't want us to meet his father, then we won't."

"Aww, but that sucks."

"Ron! I can't believe you would--"

Wanting to stop an all out brawl before it could begin, Harry interrupted. "No, it's okay, Hermione. If you guys really want to meet him, go ahead. I won't stop you. But, I'm not going. I've had enough of him to last me a lifetime."

Hermione frowned, wanting to resist the offer, but also dying to meet Harry's father.

Ron had no problem accepting Harry's offer. "Awesome! Where is he?"

Harry gave them the address and directions. Five minutes later both Ron and Hermione had left, but not after Hermione had given Harry a brief, but tight, hug.

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Later....

"Go to hell, Harry!" James shouted when he heard the three brisk knocks on his door. Because, other than two or three short visits from Dumbledore, Harry was the only person who came to see him, and James had assumed that it was Harry at the door. That assumption nearly cost him his life.

"It is me, Dobby, Mr. Unknown Man, sir. I is being asked to bring this to you, sir," a squeaky voice said from behind the door. "I is wishing very much that you not be telling Harry Potter to go to the hot place. I is knowing Harry Potter and Harry Potter is a good person."

"A house elf?" James said to himself, surprised. He had known that Hogwarts had houselves, but had never met one before. It irked him to hear that Harry knew an elf when he had never even seen one. Stupid Harry.

James strode to the door and swung it open. Well, it's a house elf, alright. And it was carrying a small, paper wrapped package in its arms.

"What's this?" He lifted the small box out of the elf's hands. He shook it a few times next to his ear, purely out of habit.

"I does not know, Mr. Unknown Man, sir. I is asked to give it to the person in this room. I is not even knowing there is a person in this room."

"Alright." James started to close the door, but the elf, showing more courage than it had since arriving, held out its hand, stopping the door's movement.

"Why is you looking so much like Harry Potter but not liking him? Dobby would be happy if Dobby looked like a good person like Harry Potter. Why is you not happy?"

The nerve of this elf! James thought. (James, of course, had never listened to any of Hermione's tirades abut elf rights, so thought of them as little more than talking, eating kitchen appliances.

"First of all, Dottie. Harry Potter looks like me. Not the other way around. Second of all, Harry Potter is not such a good person. Third of all, why don't you get back to cleaning the ovens or whatever it is you do and leave me alone." He then slammed the door in Dobby's face.

"Stupid elf, stupid Harry. 'Why isn't you happy to look like Harry Potter? I is in love with Harry Potter. I is wanting to be Harry Potter's boyfriend, '" James said, mocking Dobby's voice and speech. "Stupid Harry."

Grumbling under his breath, James inspected the package. Probably from Dumbledore. He probably didn't have time to give it to me himself. Hmmmm. I wonder what he actually does all day.

James was half way to his bed when he noticed the brown string that seemed to be holding the wrapping paper to the box. He gave it a tug. Then he felt nothing but pain.

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"What do you think he'll be like?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I imagine he'll be like Harry; kind, considerate, open-"

"I bet he'll be a wicked Quidditch player. I mean, you've seen his award in the trophy room."

Hermione continued, not hearing Ron at all. "He's a prefect, so he'll be smart and honest. And he'll be Head Boy, so-"

Hermione gasped, coming to a stop and throwing out an arm to stop Ron.

"Ow! What did you do that for?" Ron said, massaging the spot on his chest where Hermione's arm had hit him.

"I just remembered," her eyes were wide. "We can't tell him anything that's going to happen to him! If he knew his future, why, it could change the whole fabric of time. It could cause a paradox! We could make it so that Harry was never born!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "What? D'ya think I'm an idiot? I know that! Come on! I wanna meet him. Hurry up!" He pulled Hermione by the arm around the corner, then stopped.

Of their own accord, both Ron and Hermione's jaws slowly dropped, both sets of eyes widened, both pairs of cheeks paled.

The room that Harry had directed them to was decimated. The door was thrown completely off it's hinges and lay a few feet away from its frame, which was blackened and scorched.

Ron and Hermione slowly stepped forward, into the room itself.

The wood paneling on the walls were burnt and peeling. The windows had been shattered and bits of glass lay sprinkled beneath the sills. The floors, which before had probably been highly polished wood to match the paneling, was black and looked dead. To the right was what had once been a writing desk. It was now little more than a few pieces of heavily charred wood. A mirror on the left appeared to be intact. The gold filigree was blackened and might never been fully clean, but the glass was all there, burnt, but unbroken.

Looking up, Ron saw that most of the ceiling appeared to be intact except for a space about seven feet in diameter that was blackened to a crisp. This spot was about fifteen feet from where they were standing. Ron assumed that whatever had happened, started there.

Ron heard a whispering noise, thought it was the wind coming in through the broken windows, but then realized that it was Hermione, saying the Hail Mary, repeatedly, under her breath.

"Do you think he was in here?"

Hermione didn't answer, didn't really need to, she continued praying.

Beyond what Ron began to think of as ground zero was a bed. It was a big bed, one Ron would have liked to sleep in had he ever gotten the chance, but now it was barely recognizable. A hole had been gouged into the side facing them, it looked like a giant (maybe Hagrid's mum, Ron thought humorlessly) had taken a bite out of it. Ron could see the feathers and ticking—burnt and charred, like everything else in the room—that had been used to stuff the mattress. The covers, sheets and top layer of the mattress's fabric and been scorched away.

"We have to see if he's alive." Hermione whispered, too quietly for Ron to hear her.

"What did you say?"

"We have to see if he's alive. He might still be alive."

Ron doubted that, but held his tongue. He walked around the bed, stepping over pieces of the writing desk. The way the wood seemed to crumble underfoot left Ron feeling sick. What if I find Harry's dad's body and it crumbles just like the wood? What do I do then?

On the opposite side of the bed, hidden from Hermione's view was James Potter's body.

"Hermione, go get Dumbledore. Hurry. Run." Hermione was off before Ron finished the first sentence, running at top speed.

Ron wasn't sure if James was dead--Ron recalled hearing somewhere that dead people don't bleed and James seemed to be bleeding an awful lot—but if James wasn't, he was as close as you can get without actually being a goner. He was covered in cuts and bleeding from every single one. His left leg was twisted in a way that made Ron want to sick up and protruding from the knee was about 3 inches of bone. Sticking out of James's stomach was a piece of that damn writing desk. His right ear appeared to have been cleanly sliced off. Ron looked around, and saw it lying a few feet away, next to a door that probably led to a bathroom.

"Gotta stop the blood... Gotta stop the blood..." Ron pulled off his shirt and used his wand to cut five or six strips but then paused. Which cuts were the worst? He didn't want to plug up a cut on James's arm and then have the guy bleed to death from his leg. And there was no way he could get to all the cuts.

There was a bad cut on his neck that seemed to be bleeding a river. Ron took two of the strips and wrapped them around James's neck as tightly as he dared. He wrapped another strip around a footlong gash on James's right arm. By the time Ron ran out of strips of shirt (and was contemplating using his pants), he heard people running towards the room.

"Finally."

Dumbledore arrived, with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall two steps behind him. Hermione was farther down the corridor, apparently she hadn't yet caught her second wind.

"Did you hear anything before you got here?" Dumbledore asked, simultaneously performing a complicated spell that seemed to stop James's bleeding.

Ron shook his head. "No, nothing. We didn't hear or see anything. We got here and it was like this."

Dumbledore nodded, swished his wand and James floated above the floor. Madam Pomfrey pushed Ron aside and began mumbling charms under her breath, her wand waving rapidly back and forth over James's still form.

Professor McGonagall stared at James for a few moments, her face pale and her eyes glistening. Then she appeared to mentally shake herself and began searching the room.

"His ear's over there," Ron said, assuming that was what McGonagall was looking for.

McGonagall looked aghast, as if she couldn't decide if he was being pert or not. Finally, her eyes followed his pointing hand and she saw what Ron had meant. McGonagall immediately went back to her search, saying, "Poppy will be able to grow him a new one."

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were leaving the room with James when Hermione finally caught up. She saw James's still body and uttered a small scream. "He's dead?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, he's not. I've put him in a stasis field. His heart is pumping very slowly, so as to slow the bleeding, but he is still alive."

"How are we going to tell Harry?"

Dumbledore had no answer for that. He wasn't sure himself.

"Are you taking James to the Hospital Wing or are you going to hide him again?"

"He'll be in a secluded section of the Hospital Wing."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. Ron and I will tell him, if you don't mind, sir. I think it would be easier for him if it came from us."

Dumbledore nodded distractedly. "Yes, of course." He and Madam Pomfrey hurried down the corridor and through a tapestry at its end.

"Hermione?" Ron exited the room and came up behind Hermione.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Ron."

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A/N2: Awwww... I'm also a staunch R/Hr shipper, in case you haven't noticed. There's not going to be a lot of romance in here, other than the J/L variety (and it might not even be much). If you can tell me where the ''with sexy results'' line comes from, I'll give you a shiny new penny. The angsty teenagers haven't left the building yet: James gets it from someone else, again. Your explanation for the dual timelines is coming soon. It will probably be in the next chapter. See you in two weeks, don't forget to review. Sincerely...., me.