((Yo peeplez! OK, that just sounded stupid… Anywayz, sorry for the delay. Finally, the end of the school year has come and I am free for unlimited writing (unless I'm grounded and forbidden from using the computer for two weeks :-) OK, this thing with Chloe and James is getting really complicated, and my little brain has come up with a great possibility. I am changing Chloe's role in the story, so in a way she's sort of my character, but in another way she isn't. Oh well… Yeah, I have a large amount of muse to waste and I am going to update all my stories today, plus post a new on. I really need to stop doing that; I'm overwhelming myself. It's a Stars Wars fic if you want to know. Yes, I just could not resist.

Thank you to: Baka KitsuneBri, Marie Dantes, Kilikapele (Thank your for the definitions and tips), PadfootObssesed329, queen-of-monkey-magic, nandhp, swift tales, and missy mee for all the reviews. Y'all have been great!

"James?" prompted Dumbledore.

James at first did not respond. He had been remembering the day when Dumbledore had told him that their lives would change forever. At least that was what James thought he was telling them. After all, it took his family away, and that was all he could think about at the present moment. Lily and Harry filled his mind- some were memories and some were daydreams of what might have been.

"James," said Dumbledore a little louder.

James started in response, coming back to the real world. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What we were discussing about Harry," continued Dumbledore.

"Why was there no headstone?" interrupted James. "Didn't anyone bother to think of him?" His voice trembled, rising with anger. "Why did I have to live anyway? What's the use? Lily and Harry are dead."

"But I am telling you why, James," said Dumbledore, taking the moment when James paused to take a breath to jump back into the conversation. "Harry's… alive."

James felt the tears fall, not caring that he was crying in front of the other man. He was only half-listening to Dumbledore, the words he had just said grazing over him. He ran them over in his mind, trying to figure out what the man was saying.

"What did you say?" he asked softly, knowing he had not heard Dumbledore right.

"Just what you thought I said, James," said Dumbledore, "Harry survived. He is alive and well."

James did not react at first. His mouth fell open once more. It had not registered yet, but when it did, the thought slammed James with a full force.

"WHAT?" he screamed, standing up, "How- no- it's not funny, Dumbledore." His hands were balled by his side fists clenching and unclenching.

"Calm down please," said the headmaster. "Why would I lie? Yes, he is living."

"What- where?" sputtered James, "How old- what-"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Your questions will be answered shortly. As to how old he is, he's fifteen, almost sixteen. And a good deal much like you." He added the last phrase with a small smile.

"I want to see him," said James immediately, heart leaping with jubilation. His son, alive! He felt immense pride in knowing that he survived an attack from one of the strongest sorcerers of all time. What was he like now? Did he resemble him or Lily more both looks and personality wise? James had a suspicion that he looked like him from what he concluded from Dumbledore. After all, he had had black hair when he was a baby and deep green eyes- Lily's eyes. He wanted to know everything. All the thoughts and wondering were hitting him with a huge blast, making him reel at the thought. But there was one question hat surpassed then all.

"How?" he asked, the only word his mouth could form.

Dumbledore seemed to know what he was saying.

"His mother," he told James simply. "She died for him, and that leaves a mark that no one can penetrate- not even Voldemort. Therefore, the curse rebounded and hit Voldemort."

"He died!" exclaimed James, not daring to believe it. But then, he became less enthusiastic at the look in the headmaster's eyes. There was a flicker of remorse and foreboding, something James wanted to know about. Finally, the elder man spoke.

"It seemed that he did at first," began Dumbledore, "but ten years after his downfall his appearance was made known to me. One other time he tried to rise to power, failing." Dumbledore glanced aside for one fleeting second; James saw that his gaze was directed towards the sword he had asked about before. He then looked back, continuing.

"Finally, a little more than a year ago, he succeeded in regaining his body and full power."

"How?" came the repetitive question from James. He wanted to know everything that had happened in his absence of many years, and things were so mysterious and veiled from him.

Dumbledore shook his head, acting as though he did not know, but James knew he did. He decided not to press the matter farther and waited for Dumbledore to say something.

"It seems we have been launched into a full-scale war again," said Dumbledore heavily. James sighed, not knowing what else to comment on. He knew that for some reason the headmaster would not answer any more of his questions.

An owl suddenly swooped into the window, slightly scruffy and small. Dumbledore rose and took the letter it had attached to his leg, scanning over it. James saw the man suddenly pale and glance at James, looking genuinely frightened about something. He quickly balled the note, putting it in his pocket. He turned to James as he took some fine powder from a bucket near the hearth of his fireplace.

"I must go James," he announced, "but I will be back in a few moments."

He threw the powder into the fire, which started to glow a deep emerald green. He stepped into the flames, saying "The Burrow!" and spun away through the Floo Network.

James drummed his fingers, looking around the office and studying it more closely. Fawkes was resting on a perch, observing James through liquid- amber eyes. James rose and started to slowly walk around the room, following a path that seemed to be well walked around the office. So, Albus Dumbledore was fond of pacing…

The portraits around the room were snoozing, and out of respect James tried not to wake them. He looked at one that was snoring quite heavily, a familiar look around him. Dark black hair cascaded around his face in a strangely familiar fashion. Could it be? A Black?

As he was staring, he did not notice a table and suddenly tripped, sending a bowl skidding off towards the ground. He reached for it, diving across the spindly table it was upon and breaking it. Amazingly, the swishing contents of the bowl did not spill, but bulged slightly then settled as it rolled to a stop. James recognized it as Dumbledore's Pensive. He gently lifted it from the floor, muttering "Reparo" at the table as it magically repaired itself. He looked at the depths of the Pensive, entranced by its swirling contents. What did they contain? Would it reveal all the mysterious things Dumbledore had been keeping from him? He bent his head close, but was interrupted by the clearing of someone's throat.

"I would not suggest you make the same mistake twice," said the portrait he had been looking at before. "Students, always wallowing in teenage angst and never minding their own business." He shook his head, a little smirk spreading across his features.

"Excuse me?" asked James, not recognizing what he was saying.

But the painting did not listen. It's smirk faded into a frown. "It seems that you were right at the end of last year. Only Narcissus Black remains. For some reason it seems oddly quiet without my Great-great-great-grandson to yell at."

James just stared, extremely confused.

"You look more idiotic with your mouth open than closed," insulted the portrait.

Angry, James started to reply, but stopped as the fire started whirl. Albus Dumbledore walked out briskly.

"Come with me James," he said as he took the Portkey they had used before and it glowed blue again before it went back to its usual form. "You need to put your cloak back on and not let anyone see you, no matter who they are for obvious reasons. We are going to get…someone."

James drew the cloak he had worn before around him, touching a finger to the Portkey just as it jerked them away.

Harry continued to stare at the girl before him, not really buying her story of being from America. The more relaxed she became, the more native she sounded to Britain. Plus, wouldn't he have seen her somehow in the mirror of Erised? He freshly remembered that experience as if it had happened yesterday. She seemed slightly confused looking as well, looking over the room and then staring at Harry as if she could not believe her eyes.

Harry started to ask more questions, but Chloe rose from the bed and started to pace around the room. Harry continued to stare, realizing that she looked identical to the Lily Evans Potter he had seen in Snape's Pensive. What was going on? She paused and looked at the picture that rested on his night stand- one of Lily and James dancing together. He thought he saw the hint of a tear in the corner of her eye as she walked on, opening the door.

Harry vaulted from the bed, trying to stop her before she exited. But it was too late. Chloe bumped into- well, more like bounced off of- Dudley. Dudley paused at the head of the staircase, staring at her with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. He let that drop out as he screamed down the hallway.

"MOM!" he yelled "A weird girl just came from Harry's bedroom!"

Harry tried to pull the girl back, but she tugged against him.

"Dudley?" she whispered.

"What did you say Duddykins?" asked the high-pitched voice of Aunt Petunia. Harry groaned and tried to yank Chloe back before his Aunt noticed anything, but it was useless. Petunia hustled up the stairs, looking at Dudley, then noticed Chloe for the first time. They stared at each other. Harry could feel Chloe start to shake- from fear or anger he did not know. The necklace around her neck glowed somewhat, then died back down.

"LILY!" shrieked Aunt Petunia as she fell to the floor in a faint.

Dudley backed and ran into his room, slamming the door and locking it. Harry glanced from Chloe to Petunia. He could not see the girl's face as she bent down, resting a hand upon Petunia's wrist. Satisfied, she stood and looked back to Harry.

"Sorry," she said, quickly looking away.

Ignoring the unconscious Petunia, she descended down the staircase, looking like she knew the place. She opened to kitchen door and looked around.

"Do you think they'll mind if I eat something?" she asked.

Harry shook his head and she grabbed a piece of toast that was still in the toaster, devouring it like she hadn't eaten in days. Harry also reached for some bacon in the pan, eating it. When he finished, he felt someone staring at him and looked at Chloe. Her eyes were intense, with… love. Not the kind of love that a woman feels for a man, but something else. Like a parent-child love or maybe even godparent-son, like Sirius and Harry. She did seem to carry herself with more maturity, but what she felt right then, Harry did not know. Quickly she averted her gaze.

A gratified interruption came as the doorbell rang. Harry brushed past her and unlocked the door, peering outside.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he exclaimed.

Albus Dumbledore stood on his front porch, a cloaked figure behind him.

A/N: Kind've short, but still I got the point. I hope I didn't reveal too much with Chloe. Of course saying that may have revealed it already. But if you get who she is, don't ruin it! And I could've typed more, but I wanted to make it a cliffhanger, something I enjoy immensely! evil laugh

And as always, my signature:

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