The two men looked at each other, still not quite sure what to make of their new found relationship. James clearly wasn't pleased, and Harry... well, Harry suddenly wished he was somewhere else- anywhere else.

"Er... so..." Harry started, not really able to articulate fully. The fact that he dreaded his father's presence and yearned for it at the same time did not help his peace of mind.

"You're Harry?" James asked.

"Yes."

"And you managed to get here through Howell's door?"

Harry shrugged, "It seems that way."

"Why were you at Godric's Hollow?" James inquired after a moments consideration.

"I live there."

James' expression didn't give a smidgeon of what he was thinking away, "C'mon, let's go downstairs."

As they walked down the dark hallway, Harry had the felling that he had been here before, a very strong feeling, "Where are we?"

"A friend's place."

Harry frowned, getting information was next to impossible around here! "You know, you could just tell me." he said stubbornly.

James turned around, "And what if I don't?" he asked harshly.

"'What if you don't?'" Harry repeated, "I think I am entitled to an explanation at least."

James laughed mirthlessly, "What? From me? Why would that be?"

"I'm your son," Harry stated.

Green eyes locked with hazel, neither backing down. The older Potter finally glanced away, "I don't have a son," he said gruffly, stiffly, "You don't exist in this world."

Harry had expected as much, but to actually hear it was something different. It was strange combination of sadness and curiosity. Sadness for whatever had happened to his alter ego, and curiosity for the same reason. "What happened?" he asked softly but with a force behind the words.

James didn't answer. He turned back down the hallway, walking swiftly.

Following closely, Harry continued questioning his father, not about to let him off that easily, "What happened? Why won't you answer?"

His father ignored his persistent questions, and hurried down a large wooden staircase. Harry trailed him, nearly ready to hex James now if he didn't answer.

Why was he being like this? What could possibly be so bad? Why wasn't he like he was supposed to be?

Everyone had gone on and on about his father- Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, even Hagrid- who was this man in front of him then? Some specter? An apparition perhaps? Maybe he really was dead, and this was hell.

James rounded the heavy wooden railing, disappearing for a moment. Harry quickly followed, not noticing the very familiar foyer he walked right through. If he had been paying attention, quite a few of his questions may have been answered.

As it was, Harry was too single minded to see the interior of a house he had spent some of his happiest times. A place that once gave him hope, and later only grief.

So intent of following James, Harry didn't even notice the sudden mass he collided with.

Clutching his bleeding nose, "What the-?"

The mass was a man around his own age, long dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dark eyes, "Who are you?" he asked with an accent Harry didn't recognize and rubbing his forehead.

"Who are you?" Harry retorted, not recognizing him in the least.

"Well, aren't you the polite one."

"That's Harry, Morgan," James answered from out of nowhere, to Harry he said, "Morgan is Howell's son."

That name seemed familiar, but Harry couldn't place it. He stopped the blood flow, muttering, "Tergeo."

"Harry?" Morgan said surprised, "Is he a new member? Was that why Dumbledore was here?"

"Partially," James said darkly, "He's going to be staying here until your father can fix that doorway of his."

Morgan's eyes whipped over to Harry, "You came through the door? But, why can't you get back through?"

"I don't know!" Harry replied angrily, "That weirdo Calcifer said I couldn't, but I didn't listen and went through anyway and ended up here."

The blood drained from Morgan's face, "You didn't come through a doorway in Diagon Alley did you?" he laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I did," Harry said suspiciously, "Why?"

"Damn," Morgan muttered, "I was hoping no one would find out about that one. That door isn't supposed to work, you see it is only one-way."

"Why would you need a one-way door?"

"You don't," Morgan shrugged, "It just seemed like a neat idea for an experiment."

"What!"

"Whoa! Calm down! I didn't know people would be coming through it!"

Harry clenched his fists together, "Can you fix it so I can go back through it?"

"I can try," Morgan offered, "But, I'm not the expert. You'll need my father's help."

James nodded, "Dumbledore is attempting to contact him now."

Morgan snorted, "Hmph, good luck to him and all. Even my mum can't find him."

"With Sophie as his wife, I'm not surprised," James laughed.

"Oi," Morgan agreed, "I don't blame him either."

Harry listened to the banter as nonchalantly as he could, but he couldn't stop the tiny seed of envy that developed. He crossed his arms and decided to ignore the sickly feeling in his gut.

"Morgan, can you do me a favor and show Harry around?" James asked, not looking over at his own son, "I have a few things Dumbledore asked me to do."

"Sure, but you owe me one, then," Morgan laughed.

James nodded and headed away, not even saying a goodbye to Harry. His son watched him go, not sure what to think of his father anymore-not wanting to think about his father anymore.

"So, you a new member of the Order then, Harry?" Morgan asked, motioning for Harry to follow him.

"Er..."

"No?" Morgan asked rhetorically, opening a heavy door, "Just ended up here on a whim, then?"

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked quietly to himself, a cold tendril of dread weaving its way through his abdomen. That feeling intensified as he finally remembered where he was, "This is Number 12 Grimmauld Place." he said rather than asked.

Morgan looked at him a bit funny, "That's right. How'd you know that?"

"I've been here before, but not here," he said, sitting at the familiar kitchen table, "This is a rather strange situation I'm in."

"Well, you are from another world." Morgan answered from inside the cupboard he was rummaging in.

Harry frowned.

"I'm not from this world either," Morgan continued, he clearly didn't need someone else to hold up the other end of a conversation, "Mum and me are from Ingary, so's Calcifer. There they don't do all that wand waving you wizards do here, everything's more about incantations and symbols. Mum doesn't even have a wand, but she's considered a powerful witch there. Although I don't know many here that would cross her," he laughed.

"Ingary is a right finer place than this world though," he continued while putting a tin of biscuits in front of Harry, "I feel sorry for the poor saps who live here."

"Why is that?" Harry asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

Morgan sat down, helping himself to a biscuit, "All that You-Know-Who business, they can't seem to get rid of the blighter."

Harry's blood went cold and he dropped his biscuit.

"Oi, you alright?"

Voldemort...

Cold laughter in a circle around him. Shadowy figures distorted grotesquely and leering. His own breath, quick and shallow, and the pain on his forehead- a searing iron hot brand.

A whisper in his ear, the low hiss of a snake, "Yesssss, there he isssssss..."

He bit his lip to prevent him from crying out, his legs giving way and he fell to his knees. He could hardly see anymore, his glasses long gone and his vision blurred with pain.

"The Boy Who Lived..."

"The Chosen One..."

"Harry Potter..."

Whispers and laughter, cold and harsh and unyielding. A circle of Death Eaters.

He was alone.

"Oi! You alright there?" Morgan asked, waving a hand in front of Harry's face and ripping him out of his memory.

Harry reached a shaking hand to his forehead, the skin smooth- no trace of the scar that plagued him for so long. He nodded mutely, unable to speak.

"You went all pale there, like you were going to have a fit," Morgan sat back, "You sure you're alright then?"

"Yes," Harry grated out, not wanting the other man to know about his weakness, "I'm fine."

"Alright, alright," Morgan hastily apologized, "Sorry."

Harry frowned, shoving another biscuit into his mouth, and not liking the twist of his stomach at the mention of Voldemort. He lived still, in this strange world. A world that Harry himself had never existed in.

They were still fighting then, still fighting against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

His own fight ended five years ago, Voldemort fell. He had been looking forward to a life of quiet anonymity with Ginny. Never would he have imagined that he would come across another world, with its own fight continuing onward.

What was he supposed to do? He had already fought his fight, he had already earned his reward. Should he help? Would they let him?

Did he want to help?

Harry honestly didn't know, but he knew he wanted to go home.

It's short, but I want to get it up before too much time has passed. Besides, I don't want too many characters introduced each chapter.

Aurora-Sakura: Exams just seem to not let up, once one is done I have three more approaching.

YumiFukushima: Here ya go!

Marguerida: You'll find out soon...

Fairy Blue: Thanks!

DDwelling: Harry is in for an emotional roller-coaster, his father being the first of many.