It was rather strange to look at your dead father pointing his wand at you, and Harry had seen some strange things in his day.
He was undoubtedly James Potter, perhaps a bit older than in Harry's old wizard photos, but Harry still had the out of body experience of looking in a mirror when perhaps there was none. Or maybe the unique sensation of deja vu or meeting a long lost twin he never knew he had.
The resemblance was uncanny, made so especially in the flesh when Harry was staring open mouthed at his dead father. Now he knew why everyone said he looked exactly like James, photos did not do the likeness justice.
However, the James Potter from photos did not scowl or have a hard edge to the lines of his face. He didn't stand there, pointing a wand at Harry, demanding answers.
And the James Potter from Harry's orphaned childhood fantasies knew his own son.
"I asked you who you were!" James demanded, taking a step closer to Harry.
Harry's tongue was stuck in his throat, he didn't even know if he could speak. He was torn between disbelief and astonishment, not quite willing to believe James was really in front of him. He had dreamed of a moment like this for as long as he could remember, but his dreams had not included this horrible feeling of wrongness.
"Answer now, or I'll make you answer." James said, leveling his wand at Harry's face. Confusion flashed for the briefest moment on James face when he got a good look at him, before it hardened again.
"Neville Longbottom," Harry answered with the first name that came to mind, discreetly shifting so that he could reach his own wand. He didn't want to hex his father, but if that's what it took...
James raised an eyebrow, "You're lying, the Longbottoms are dead."
What? Harry shuffled from one foot to the other, his mind racing to come up with an identity and with the sudden information of Neville's death. He had just talked to Neville last week! What had happened to him?
"You seem surprised at that bit of information," James said, motioning with his wand for Harry to move, "Why don't you walk that way?"
James herded Harry out of the front room and out into the dreary day outside. The feeble sun had come out, and shone halfheartedly on the estranged father and son.
"Who are you, and why are you here?" James asked, punctuating each syllablewith his wand.
There was no use lying anymore, "Er, Harry."
"Alright, Harry," James clearly didn't believe him, "What has brought you here to a house that hasn't been inhabited for years?"
"Er..."
"A house that is unplottable?"
"..."
"That's interesting," James sneered, "In fact I think you are a bit too interesting, so you'll have to come with me- Incarcerous!"
Harry's father was too quick for him, and ropes shot out from James' wand tying around his arms and legs. He struggled in vain, unable to reach his own wand, while James unceremoniously grabbed his shoulder and disapparated.
It was dark, but warm- wherever James had taken them. At least warmer than typical spring weather outside.
"Lumos."
The light showed a spartan room with a heavily locked door. However, Harry was in no position to appreciate the subtle interior decorating, as he was still tightly bound and confused.
"You- whoever you are- stay there," James warned striding to the heavy door, "And don't think you can Apparate out of here either, unless you like leaving limbs behind."
Harry's father left, the tell-tale sounds of enchantments sealing the door shut trailing him. If Harry was more clear minded he might be angry at being tied up and left alone in a locked room, but with the events of the last few minutes he felt more like being eleven years old again and just finding out that he was a wizard.
That strange combination of hope and fear threatening to overwhelm him.
He didn't know what to expect. It wasn't like he had much choice, though, he was locked in a room, tied up and unable to Apparate- all because of his dead father.
His dead father, the same person who essentially kidnaped him. If the situation wasn't so ludicrous, Harry would be laughing.
Shuffling over to the plain chair in the corner, Harry sat down, grateful for the support. Now noticing his surroundings a bit better, he realized that this room looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't place it.
He didn't wait long before he could hear voices on the other side of the door, muffled but still suspicious sounding. The row of locks opened one by one, a cascading series of mechanical noises signaling the low squeaking of the large hinges.
Harry braced himself, expecting anything to walk through that doorway.
But anything didn't walk through that doorway.
Purple robes, long beard, crooked nose, and twinkling eyes. Harry stared dumbfounded at the man in front of him, remembering a horrible night atop the Astronomy Tower and a phoenix's sorrowful lament.
"I see what you mean, James," Dumbledore eyed Harry over his half moon spectacles, "Perhaps I shall interrogate our... guest?"
James looked chastised, "Sorry." He waved his wand and the robes binding Harry dissolved.
Harry rubbed his arms were the robes had dug into his skin absently and asked in almost a whisper, "Headmaster?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at this and seemed to look right through Harry, "No one has called me 'headmaster' in quite a while," he said, amused, "It brings back such nice memories.
"Ah, but perhaps another time?" he turned to James, "If you would...?"
The older Potter gave Harry one last distrustful look, "I'll be right outside the door."
When they were alone, Dumbledore conjured himself an armchair and seated himself, "Would you like a lemon drop?" he offered the yellow wrapped candy.
Harry couldn't believe it, here was Dumbledore offering him candy like nothing else mattered in the entire world. The fact that it was such a Dumbledore like action nearly moved him to screaming, but he merely shook his head, not trusting his voice.
Dumbledore smiled, "Where are my manners? I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and the man who brought you here is James Potter."
"I know," Harry managed.
"Typically when one introduces himself, he expects the same courtesy to be returned."
Should he tell him? Tell him everything? Harry wasn't sure he even knew where to begin, or if this wasn't some type of dark magic, or maybe he was dead. Two men he had mourned were walking and talking right in front of him, and didn't know who he was! Since Harry was eleven years old, he had lived in a world where everyone knew his name- knew his story.
And here was Dumbledore, a man Harry once believed knew everything, asking who he was, "Harry," he answered as if the name should be familiar to the older man.
"And Harry," Dumbledore did not mention Harry's lack of a surname, "What exactly were you doing in a deserted house in the tiny village of Godric's Hollow?"
"I live there now," Harry replied slowly, almost as if he was convincing himself. His brows furrowed in confusion and his gaze dropped to his muddy shoes.
"I see," Dumbledore said, not in a patronizing way, but as if several pieces were falling into place in the clockwork of his mind, "Was it what you expected, when you walked into your home?"
"No!" Harry looked up to his old mentor, the need to tell him rising, "Nothing was the way it should be! Everything was different! The house was a wreck, and Ginny and Hermione weren't there, and Dad didn't recognize me, and you should be dead!" his voice was growing more and more desperate after every syllable.
Dumbledore didn't even flinch, "And yet here I am, and so you are too, Harry," the older wizard said in his impossibly calm voice, "I think, that, you should begin from the beginning, as most tales do."
And so Harry told Dumbledore everything.
The elder wizard merely listened politely to his words, never questioned or interrupted. Harry's words poured out of him in a way that only a few select people were able to do in his lifetime, a quality that Dumbledore was able to still inspire in him after being dead for nearly five years.
When Harry finished, Dumbledore said nothing for a short while, but gazed at Harry intently as if gauging his truthfulness. It was unnerving, and Harry squirmed a bit in his chair feeling like he was back at Hogwarts.
"It seems as if you have been through much, Harry" Dumbledore finally said, "And I am certain you will go through much more.
"This world is very different from the one you left."
Harry frowned at Dumbledore's sinister words, "What exactly is going on here?"
"You passed through a door," he started, "A door that a certain colleague of mine created. It creates a portal between different worlds every time it is opened. When you were attacked, that portal closed itself."
"And left me here..."
"I will not lie to you, Harry. There may not be a way for you to return."
"What!"
Dumbledore held up a hand, "However, do not despair. I will contact my colleague and see what it is that can be done."
"How long will that take?" Harry asked.
"Several days."
Harry sighed, "What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I can't really stay around here, I don't know anything about this place." And I don't want to see my father looking at me like that again...
"Then perhaps you should take this opportunity to learn," Dumbledore suggested. When Harry looked back at him, confused, Dumbledore continued, "This is far from a perfect world, yet it holds within it things and people that your own world lacks. You have a chance that may never be offered to you again, Harry, surely you understand?"
A chance... a chance to talk to his father and Dumbledore again... a dream he had harbored since he first looked into the Mirror of Erised.
"Maybe... you should tell me some things about this world," Harry offered, "So that I know what I am getting myself into at least."
Harry's former headmaster smiled that easy smile of his, eyes twinkling, "Sometimes it is the journey that is more important than the destination, Harry."
"Wha-wait!" Harry called after Dumbledore as the older man suddenly got up and glided out the door.
He made to follow, but was stopped by James, "Where do you think you're going?" his father blocked his way.
"Let me through!"
"I don't think so."
"It is quite alright, James," Dumbledore interfered, "This is Harry."
The father looked suspiciously at his son, "I don't know what he told you, Albus, but-"
"-He is to be our guest here until further notice, please inform the other Order members."
James was about to argue, but conceded to the older man's authority, "Fine."
Dumbledore smiled, "I must see to a certain matter now, but feel free to have some father son bonding time."
Silence...
James looked over to Harry with a mixture of hope, horror, and weariness, his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. Harry glanced away, unable to face James' reaction.
"Wha-wha- WHAT?" James shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Harry, "Father? Son?"
"You said yourself that the resemblance is uncanny," Dumbledore said patiently, "And I have every reason to believe Harry's tale."
James frowned, "But that would mean he's..." he trailed off, suddenly staring at the floor, his body tense.
A wave of sadness passed over Dumbledore too, the old man's face gaining even more lines. Harry glanced between the two, not understanding to quick shift of emotions.
"Yes, James," Dumbledore nodded gravely, before continuing on a lighter note, "It would seem you have Howell to thank for this fortuitous meeting."
"How did the peacock manage that?" James asked, his dark mood still evident.
"Perhaps you should ask Harry that question, as he is the one who went through the door," Dumbledore said wisely, "Sadly, we have no penseive, I would have liked to meet a fire demon." he added as an afterthought.
James, however, did not find that idea to his liking, "I'll do that then," he muttered, giving Harry a stony look.
Dumbledore must have chosen to dismiss James' reticence and addressed Harry, "I leave you in friend's company, Harry, and only ask that you observe this world. Knowledge is a powerful ally, but must be sought out." And with that, he left, whistling down the dark hallway before disappearing into the shadows.
Sorry it is late, but you take midterms then...
Anyway, here we meet James and Dumbledore, alive and well. Dumbledore was fun to write, and James is rather suspicious of Harry. However, the reasons behind this will be revealed in time.
Howl is mentioned again by Dumbledore, but he uses the name "Howell". This is one in the same person, and different names will be used for different people addressing him. So if you see one and not the other, it is not a mistake(at least I hope not) and typically reflects where the person met Howl/Howell.
Thanks for the reviews!
Aurora-Sakura: Thanks! I know it is late, but hopefully I'll get the other chapters out on time!
CharmedToMeetYou: Thanks!
YumiFukushima: I try at humor, but Calcifer is just too easy to write! I am going more off the books than the movie, but the same concepts are in both. Hope you enjoy!
Marguerida: Howl's Moving Castle and Castle in the Air are by Diana Wynne Jones, there is also a movie that came out last summer entitled Howl's Moving Castle from Studio Ghibli and Hayao Miyazaki, who directed other movies like Kiki's Delivery Service and Spirited Away. The books are about Sophie Hatter, a young woman who is cursed by the Witch of the Waste. The curse turned her into a 90 year old woman. She ends up in the infamous wizard Howl's moving castle and makes a deal with Calcifer, Howl's fire demon, to lift her curse.
Castle in the Air is the sequel, and Sophie and Howl only make a limited appearance.
I don't want to give too much of the story away, so I suggest you head over to your local library and borrow the two books. You'll probably enjoy them as much as Harry Potter.
Neferseba: Thanks! I am sorry it is late though...
Linac428: Thanks!
Fairy Blue: Thanks!