(Ack! I nearly had a heart attack. Since when does Works have errors! At least I only lost the A/N and such and not the ending... Only... TT)

A/N: Omg... I'm, like… three weeks late... I really did mean to have this done by Christmas, but sadly it just didn't happen. For some reason I like to post around the 12th (this will most likely be posted the 13th. Does that mean that the next one won't be out until the 14th? oO;)

Thanks to Crysania Fay for betaing. If there's still something wrong-

Blame her. XD

Warnings: None that I can think of, besides character death, but then we already knew these character were dead, so I don't think that counts.

Spoilers: Only if you've never read the 5th book or the series in general. If you haven't… where have you been all this time? XD

Important Note: Since I know someone will point this out if I don't: the events of Halloween 1981, like my original version, are based off the mess up in book 4. I thought it was cool and went with it. You'll understand the moment you see it.

Annnnnnnnnnnd, without further ado:

Chapter One:

Meeting Again After a Long Absence

A hooded figure approached the large, wooden door. Towering over the figure, the giant castle was but a large, black figure in the growing dawn. The pin-prick flags on the towers, barely visible to the figure, as they swayed in the early morning breeze.

The figure pushed the large, oak door open with ease. Perhaps it was magic that allowed such large door to open so easily, or perhaps it was simple muggle engineering. The figure sadly gave the little regard as the being entered.

This person had other things to think of than to admire doors, for it wasn't often that news of the likes that this being carried made it's way into the little humble school of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

No one could say that Albus Dumbledore wasn't a busy man. With a school to run and a war on the horizon, he hardly had time to worry about uninvited guests. The thought rarely even crossed his mind, although they sometimes tended to cross his doorstep.

Little suggested that anything interesting would happen on that lovely morning. The dawn had just broken after a particularly nice summer shower. He could smell the damp, clean air when he woke. He couldn't resist taking the deep breath he had taken first thing upon sitting up. It did indeed seem like it would be a nice morning. A perfect way, even, to go into the last stretch of July.

He was working on the last of the schools new roster when he heard the knock. He paused a moment, almost as if trying to remember if someone had announce they would come today, and he had forgotten. His snowy white brows came together, and then released. A moment later, he called in a loud voice one would be surprised such an old man could support, "You may enter."

The white brows never twitched as the figure entered, nor did the piercing blue eyes ever flicker. Nothing gave way the once-teachers curiously - nor his caution. It was not often that people arrived on Albus Dumbledore's office doorstep unexpectantly and did not carry dangerous or grievous news.

The figure stepped into the room, the door closing behind him or her when he or she pressed lightly on it. It soft click signaled it closing. Dumbledore watched the person, his eyes following ever movement calmly, as if this was an old friend, and not a potentially dangerous. There was little in the figure's body language to suggest such a thing, but that was never an indication of one's true intentions.

"Won't you remove your hood, sir?"

The figure - a man, if one trusted Dumbledore's word - raised his head in a slight jerk, perhaps of surprise? A shake, and then the being was reaching up to grasp the edge of the robe. It was a moment that, were it in a muggle movie, it would have slowed down for effect of the viewers. A moment meant to shock and surprise, and even delight the viewers. But this wasn't a moment in a movie, so it passed in a mere flick of the wrist. The shock however was not lost. Dumbledore, sadly though, would have disappointed the viewers if they wanted a reaction by not even batting an eyelash.

"Ah, James. Please sit. We have much to discuss obviously."

James Potter, for that was the only person it could be, watched his former headmaster and friend in some amount as he sat down. "You know it's me?"

The headmaster pressed his fingers together lightly and leaned his elbows on his desk. "I believe that you believe that you are James Potter. Whether that is true or not remains to be seen." The man gave the barest of smiles, and added, "And you are still a terrible legilimency."

James couldn't help but smile at that. It was fair enough that the man was even speaking to him. He was suddenly glad that he had gone along with this idea. "I suppose I should explain then?" When the older man remained patiently quiet, James took a deep breath and began.

Flashback

It had been a quiet day when James and Lily had been summoned into a meeting with Dumbledore. A nice day really, even after they were told that the couple along with their year old son would be going into hiding until the Dark Lord himself lost interest with this latest hunt or he was stopped. The family had taken it into stride, determined not to let the fear and despair that hung around every waking moment bring them down.

A month had passed, the longest one of the couple's lives, and it seemed that they would make it through to live the rest of their lives in some semblance of normal. But a story like this, one told so often, could only, and did only end one way. Night fell and tragedy flew in before anyone could see it coming.

Voldemort himself had shown at their doorstep. James had known he couldn't escape. Knew that staying behind meant certain death, but to a man desperately trying to save his family, it was natural. If they lived, he could rest in peace.

Voldemort hadn't shot to kill. Not right away. First, he simply was content to 'play', like he had all the time in the world and Lily wasn't upstairs trying to escape with the child that could one day be his undoing. It was only when James could barely stand, and was covered in burns and scratches and could barely see straight, let alone fight, that Voldemort cast the curse to end his life.

"Know that your family died because of you, James Potter. Know that you could have saved them, but you failed."

And he had. As Voldemort cast the curse, James could only curse himself verbally with his failure.

The curse had hit - he could feel the impact, but as James stumbled, he was astonished that he was still alive. Had the Dark Lord somehow missed, despite the very obvious impact? James could only stare in astonishment at the vile creature before him, his surprise very obvious.

And then the room tipped and deposited him firmly, bonelessly on the floor. He didn't have the strength to move. He couldn't get back up, and he was steadily growing weaker.

Just barely in his view, the Dark Lord laughed. "Listen, James Potter. Listen very carefully, and you might be able to hear your family's last moments before you die."

James had wanted to shout out, to cry out that Voldemort was coming for Lily - he could still hear her upstairs, why wasn't she gone? - and Harry upstairs but he could barely find the power to breathe and stay awake.

It's a terrible thing to hear the slaughter of one's loved ones and be helpless to stop it. It's an even worse thing to know that you could have saved them from that fate and you didn't. James listened over the sound of his failing breath as Lily's begged and pleaded, listened to the heart wrenching thud that signified the end of her life. Tears came unbidden as he waited for the death of the most beautiful thing he had left in this world. Waited for the crying to stop and the silence of death to claim the house.

The crying didn't cease. James couldn't help but cling to the fact that as long as the crying carried on, Harry was still alive. In his last muddled moments, he heard something much more hair-raising than his son's dreaded death. The shrill shrieking of something that sounded akin to a banshee, only much worse. He didn't have time to contemplate it, for it was almost like a death toll.

Before the shrieking was finished, James Potter was dead.

End Flashback

Silence.

Neither man spoke as they both digested the news. James' eyes remained on the floor, his mind tumbling around with strange and somewhat confusing thoughts. There was a sense of shame that lingered in his heart, but it was no where near where one might have thought it should be. He didn't remember his time in death, the years having passed and left him with no memory of it, but there was a lingering feeling that what had happened had been what should have happened and he had excepted it long ago.

"He didn't kill you right away."

Dumbledore's heavy tone brought James out of his thoughts. James merely nodded. There was nothing he could say on the subject, and he knew that the man needed a moment to collect himself. It was a very hard thing to accept, even if the person who'd had suffered said fate was somehow alive and well and right in front of you.

The older man sighed, the younger seeing that although the man's control was back in full he seemed a little frailer. "It does little to dwell on such events," was that said for James' benefit, or for Dumbledore's? "But let us focus for a moment on why it happened. Tell me, James, who was your secret keeper?"

James stiffened unconsciously. There was a test in this. He could sense it as easily as he breathed. "Peter Pettigrew."

Something changed in Dumbledore's hard stare. It seemed to soften, sadden almost. It made the dark haired man wonder what he had missed or forgotten during his death. He made note to question what had become of his friends both former and still.

"Very good," Dumbledore said, "Please continue. What is the next thing you remember?"

James nodded, and told of - rather impossibly - coming to on the floor of Godric's Hollow, and the young woman who revived him.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp. "It was a woman? Do you know who she was?"

James shook his head. "I never saw her face." I can't see without my glasses. Silence followed again. The ticking of the numerous clocks filling the air for several tick-tocks before their owner told him to continue.

Flashback

He was so confused; disoriented. It was hard to stand and his lungs ached with each breath. It felt like the muscles had never moved a day in their lives, and it was a struggle to force them to cooperate. His thoughts were too disoriented to properly deal with the fact that he was cold, nearly blind, and probably in a lot of danger.

CRASH

The port key hit the floor and a small chip broke off and skittered somewhere unnoticed.

James' head jerked in the direction of the noise and nearly flinched when his neck protested the sudden movement.

"Get out of here."

James couldn't quite manage a frown. "Get…out?" He didn't like how his tongue still felt heavy and dry. Didn't like how even just the little bit of speech that he'd done made his jaw ache. It didn't really matter yet that he was an almost blind man, weak from rebirth, and was being told to run out into the world as such.

The woman - for that was what gender he guessed she was from the sound of her voice - fell silent. There was a rustle of cloth and in the blink of an eye, literally, the room sharply came into focus. James blinked, adjusting to the sudden ability to see. The room, now that he could see it, looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he had seen it. It was almost like he was seeing a neglected childhood home for the first time in decades. And neglected it was; papers, wood shards, glass, and other such items wer strewn all over the small room.

He didn't hear her move, didn't hear what must have been her scramble for the door. He only heard the slam of the door and the shuffle of feet outside. James jerked in the direction of the door - the room momentarily tilting with such a simple spin. He might have taken a the time to sit and collect himself, but his eyes, with their newly crystal clear eyesight, feel on a body. A very dead body.

Very slowly, his muddled mind began to turn. He had been dead, simply knew it. The feeling becoming more concrete with each passing second. There was a cauldron, still fresh liquid in and around vials, and a dead woman with her throat cut. Had he… been resurrected? The very thing they teach you is impossible

His body was too tired, too new. He couldn't think, couldn't move. But he couldn't stay there with that poor woman - whoever she was. Who knew if that other woman, the one that ran, would come back? If she was responsible for the dead body, if she came back to send him somewhere he could barely recall her mentioning, what was to say what she could and would do?

End of Flashback

"So I left. It wasn't… easy - almost didn't manage to. But I left." James' tone spoke of his remorse. Whether it was blame towards himself or just for the death of that unknown woman was unknown.

Dumbledore was silent as he pulled a single strip of parchment and dripped a pearl white feather tip into pitch black ink. He scribbled something down, pausing only to ask if James remembered where the house had been, to which James replied that he didn't. The elderly man nodded solemnly, before sending the message off via owl.

There was another span of silence that was eventually broken by a soft pop sound. James blinked at seeing a house elf appear. He hadn't heard the headmaster summon one.

"I'm sure there are a lot of questions that you have," Dumbledore began, "but it would be a terrible thing to do anything else on a empty stomach - something of which I currently have." He rambled off a feast fit for a king, and almost as soon as the elf appeared it was gone.

"Sir, where are they?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "'They'?"

"Harry, Sirius and Remus - they're alive. Where are they? How are they?"

The eyebrow inched up just a tad. "You knew that young Harry was alive?"

James blinked and realized that it might have sounded weird for someone who had just come back from the grave to apparently know something that he or she shouldn't have. He frowned. He opened his mouth, meaning to explain, but realized that he didn't know how he knew, much less how to explain it. "I… just know. Just like I feel like... I feel like things have been hard for them. What happened to my son and my friends?" There was now an audible note of pleading in his still scratchy voice.

Before the headmaster could start what was sure to be a long and very tiring tale of the events of the last fourteen years, the house elf from mere moments before reappeared with trays and trays full of warm steaming foods. James stared at the vast array and realized - as his stomach realized - that he hadn't eaten a single thing in, well, years. He fought for a moment between the concern of a devoted father and friend, and the basic instinct to consume.

"Since breakfast has arrived, let's begin the explanations." Dumbledore said, almost as if he were negotiating between two warring legions. Both sides of James called a truce and he snagged the closest thing to him. As the headmaster explained the happenings over the last decade or so, James made for a good audience, being properly aghast and outraged - and choking on his drink - at Sirius' wrongful imprisonment as well as Harry's residence with the Dursley's - even with the understanding of why it had to have been done, to being overly proud at his son's achievements over the last four years. The boy may not have been a prankster like his dear old dad, but he certainly got into enough messes to make up for it!

"Do you think I could see him?" James asked at the end of the several hours worth of stories. The headmaster considered the request. It was only natural that James would want to see his son, but he was worried about the overall effect this would have. There were a lot of things to take into consideration before he could allow the younger man to go and openly reveal his return to the land of the living. There was still the unanswered question of why he was brought back and who engineered the whole thing.

"I think that--"

Dumbledore was cut off as rather unexpectantly a large tawny owl flew in through the window and landed on his desk. The headmaster took the letter from the eager animal. James watched curiously as the man's face slowly darkened and he stood. "Sir?"

"I'm afraid we'll have to put this meeting on hold." He handed the paper to James as he walked for the door. The paper was a court summonsing. James' eyes widened.

"Harry has been arrested."

To be continued…

oOoOoOo

Shout out to my reviewers (are we even allowed to do these anymore? I haven't read the rules in ages and who knows what they said we can't do anymore...):

Marauder3Moony: O.o Wow, I didn't think anyone would forgive me for abandoning Version 1. I'm glad I still have another supporter other than the ever faithful B. And don't worry, I don't plan to abandon it this time, but it may take a while to get the chaps out. Hope you like this version!

pandas rule the world: Glad you're happy.

Crysania Fay: My ever faithful B, where would I be without you? (insert witty comment I know that's coming from B here) Hope you liked this chapter too and the betaing wasn't too hard!

greeneyes: oO; I'd like to see that too. Lol, maybe we'll see in the next chapter.

cutieme!: ...I can try...

SondiDondi: Thank you for the offer, but the only reason I chose Russian is because I kind of liked how it looked. I tried it in the other languages, but it didn't have the same appeal. Thanks again for the offer! Hope you liked this part.

JPotter: Hope you liked this part!

Until next time, everyone! Ja ne!