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OoOoO Chapter 14 - Harry and Mr. Potter OoOoO

Harry groaned when he opened his eyes. It was morning. Not only was it hours since he'd figured he'd lost consciousness in the Chamber of Secrets with James, but he realized upon awakening, that he was once again in the Hospital Wing. The same Hospital Wing that he was almost certain he wasn't supposed to have left his second time around.

Damn.

Harry knew then that Madam Pomfrey would know of his escape last night, and was positive that she was not going to be a happy medi-witch when she found him awake this morning. He was actually debating whether or not to just pretend he was asleep for the next few hours when a dark-haired man with wire-framed glasses came into his blurry line of sight. "You can most likely sit up. I know you're awake."

Harry paused for a moment at the sound of the familiar voice, then sat up, noticing that his shoulder, ribs, and hands felt a little better than they did last night, and placed his glasses from his nightstand beside him onto his face. Actually, his whole body felt better. Stronger. James's face became clear next to him, and Harry glanced around the room, immediately on the lookout for the older medi-witch. "Is Madam Pomfrey out to get me?" Harry asked, getting the most important question out first.

James let out an amused snort. "You're not in nearly as much shite as I am with her. Don't worry, she won't string you up."

Harry blinked the sleep away from himself and ran a hand through his very, untidy, and now visibly dirty hair. He could feel the start of a very thin sheet of hair over his jawline and across his lower face. His facial hair might not be as fast-growing as Ron's, but it wasn't non-existent. He needed a good shave and a hot shower. "Why's she mad at you? Wha'd you do?"

James eyed him dryly and motioned to the sword of Gryffindor that apparently, was sitting at the end of Harry's bed. "I let you leave to go fight a basilisk, that's what." James shuddered, as he visibly thought back to his last encounter with the medi-witch. "I don't think I'll be able to get that woman's ringing voice out of my head for years now."

Harry grinned from the corners of his mouth, amused. A small part of him was glad he'd been unconscious then. He never wanted to deal with a mad Madam Pomfrey. "Did you tell her why we had to do it? 'Might give you a couple of sympathy points."

James rubbed the back of his head and leaned back in his chair by Harry's bed. Harry noticed that a new Prophet paper was rolled up by his seat and a small sealed letter sitting next to it, with surprisingly, Harry's name on it. Harry was about to ask about it when James sighed and leaned farther back in his chair. "Oh, I told her all right. And Dumbledore. And Sirius. And Lily. And everyone who wanted a piece of my hide when I came in this morning with an unconscious teenage boy in my arms."

Harry nearly flinched at the thought. He was right, Harry had passed out in the Chamber. Who else could have brought him up to the Hospital Wing? The thought of James carrying Harry from the Chamber of Secrets made him feel weak somehow.

He kept his tone light and his eyes towards the window. "Was Dumbledore mad?"

"Well, he wasn't happy."

"About the sword?"

James shook his head lightly. "About being left out of the loop is my guess. I don't really think he cared about the sword all that much. He was glad it came to use and glad the basilisk was taken care of. Apparently, he didn't have a running plan for what to do with that particular problem yet."

Harry's mind traveled back to the locket and the pain in his head after he'd destroyed the horcrux. Harry put a hand up to his forehead and realized it was bandaged, right on top of his scar. Harry fingered the white bandage and looked at James with a confused grimace. "What happened to-"

"You passed out after you killed the necklace. The silver mist stuff disappeared, and you fell to the ground. I got to you before you collapsed, but it was Dobby who realized that your scar was bleeding out."

Harry remembered James's hands on his shoulders and holding him upright. His voice in his ears when the panic of the locket's visions seemed to be drowning his consciousness out. And he remembered the pain in his scar. The horrible itching. But it had been bleeding? That had certainly never happened before. "That would explain why my head hurt so bad," Harry said lowly.

James leaned forwards in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together. "Has your scar ever done that before?" He nodded to Harry's forehead. "Bled out like that."

Harry shook his head. "Never. It was a wholly new experience believe it or not."

James nodded like he'd expected the answer and leaned back in his seat. "You had a lot of people worried about you."

Harry doubted that but nodded towards the rolled-up newspaper. "What's the rest of the Wizarding World have to say?"

James cranked an eyebrow up with a dry smile. "The usual. Chaos and lies."

He handed Harry The Pure Prophet, and Harry's eyes took in the bolded headline of "Dark and Dangerous Wizard Still Not Found- Face Known!" with a raised eyebrow. Below the headline was a charcoal-looking, life-like drawing of Harry's face. It looked almost exactly like him. Although his hair was thrown around his face wildly, his cheekbones looked a little more pronounced, and they managed to darken the shadows around his glasses so he looked exactly what they were calling him. Dark. Dark and dangerous.

"They've started a nationwide search for you. Apparently, some of the shoppers in Diagon Alley got a good look at your face, and though a picture wasn't taken, someone got an artist," he motioned to the non-moving picture.

Harry turned his head sharply, very aware of how close they looked in appearances. "Does anyone think that you-"

"That it's actually me?" James guessed at Harry's question. Harry gave a quick nod and James shook his head in a negative motion. "No. I have a very well-placed alibi from a couple of auror friends at the time of the Burning of Hogsmead, Diagon Alley, and the Malfoy Manor." He looked up at Harry with a teasing grin. "Plus some of the people that saw you noticed your height."

Harry scowled at his grin, immediately understanding the joke James was throwing. "What about my height?"

James shook his head and made a face of innocence. "Nothing. Just a small fact of comparison between me and you. Me: Tall and handsome. Nearly god-like if you would. You: The scrawny and vertically challen-"

Harry flipped his wand and laughed when The Pure Prophet crunched into a ball and bounced off James's head with an amazing amount of enthusiastic accuracy. James nearly fell sideways out his chair in surprise, and Harry laughed harder at his affronted face, surprised at himself for the childish outburst.

James righted himself and stared at Harry's dying laughter with curiosity etching the lines between his brows. "Did you just-"

Harry's smile faded and he leaned farther back into his bed comfortably. He didn't say anything, and neither did James. Whatever awkward feelings Harry had been feeling when he woke up with the man at his bedside had, for the moment, disappeared. There was a quiet sort of peace between them, and James, Harry knew, could feel it too. For the older man was sitting back in his seat beside Harry's bed with his fingers templed over his lap, and his breathing even, staring at Harry what the younger man could only assume was a relaxed comfort.

Harry's attention was momentarily grabbed by the rows of other beds and he realized that most were empty. All who had escaped with him from the Malfoy Manor were gone, and the only ones who seemed to be left were the few Order members that had been critically injured days before in the 'Burning of Hogsmeade. "Where is everyone?"

"Breakfast most likely," James answered, following his gaze. "Almost everyone was cleared out this morning by Madam Pomfrey after she had her shot at me. Most just needed to recuperate naturally. Either their magical core was tired from the battle, or they needed a good few days of full stomachs to bring them back to tip-top shape."

"What about Hermione? Ginny, or Luna?"

"They're all fine," James replied lightly. "Downstairs with everyone else. Hermione's probably there with her hands on a couple of books."

Harry grinned. "Who showed her where the library was?"

"Remus, before breakfast," James said, catching his amusement and smiling back. "She wanted to know more about the Death Eaters and the history of magic. Remus nearly had to carry her out when she started stacking books that she had decided she was going to read through."

Harry grinned. "That sounds like something my Hermione would have done too if she were in her situation."

James nodded. There was a silence between them, but it felt more like the silence you feel before a muggle movie. The feeling of waiting for something to happen."You do realize, your friends… transporting back and forth between worlds is not only dangerous but-"

James did have to say very much more for Harry to understand where he was going. He'd known it when he was standing in the Chamber of Secrets, and he knew it now. It really wasn't all that hard to figure out by himself. "There's little to no chance of them getting here," Harry interrupted, agreeing.

He grimaced sadly. He already knew that Ron and Hermione, despite their last words to him in the mirror, were not going to be able to get to where he was. He was going to be alone in this, this time around.

"Exactly," James sighed. "I don't want you to get your hopes up on that. I know how strange this must be for you," James stopped himself, and then paused. "Actually, I can't imagine how it must be, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for what we did, and what we've set you up for, and I hate myself just a little bit more now that I know it's - well, it's you I've helped to condemn. There's no excuse for any of it. I know that." His eyes were locked on his folded hands, lips pressed together and tense.

Something unraveled within Harry. "I know," he affirmed, barely a breath from his chest. A confession and an acknowledgment in one. He had seen it in James's face. How heavily the guilt weighed on him, how much he wanted to help, even if his declaration in Myrtle's bathroom hadn't been enough, Harry could see it. James cared for him. Maybe not as a son, but a lot more than a stranger from another world.

"I also know that," Harry managed to continue, "until I've finished this bloody prophecy again, my anger at not being able to control my destiny here, or whatever," Harry flipped his hand upwards, in a meaningless gesture, "isn't entirely your fault. Some of it may be, but you didn't really know, and I can't hate you for wanting a better life for your family," he admitted. "So, you know- I didn't mean what I said in the Chamber, about you commanding your children to die for you in this war. It wasn't fair of me."

Conceding, and a white flag for the anger that laid beneath their first real conversation. The closest thing Harry could get to an apology for the man he was named after. James, the clever wizard reawakened from his childhood stories, understood his inner turmoil and lifted the side of his mouth. Forgiveness as well. A leveled ground between them for whatever they chose to do next.

Harry did not want another enemy, especially if he wore his father's face, and it could even be said that he liked this James. His easy smile and comradery. The way he spoke to him and treated him as an adult. He eased the constant yearning Harry felt when he received Jame's smiles, either in pride or in amusement, and despite all rational thought, Harry wanted something more in those small moments. Something real.

"I'm not good at this," James revealed, laughing lightly. Awkward as he shifted in his seat. "So give me a little leeway here, but I shouldn't have yelled at you either. You're a young man who didn't ask to be brought here and fought with us when he could have just flipped us the bird and watched us burn. I'm eternally grateful you didn't - you've no idea - you saved all three of my children within the first couple of days after meeting you, and then the organization I've dedicated my life to. I have no right putting anything else on your shoulders, especially after doing my part in binding you here, but I can't just -" he breathed out like he was frustrated with himself and swallowed.

The hazel of his eyes trapped Harry's, and he reached out slowly to lay his hand over Harry's blanketed foot. The warmth of his skin seeped through his sheets and anchored Harry in a warm stilled state. "Now that I've met you, am watching you grow up through your memories, and getting to see the man and wizard that you're becoming, I can't just turn my back," he confessed. "I can't forget who you are and what you... meant to me. I won't watch you die, or sacrifice yourself for an agreement I gave blood to. I won't. I refuse to." Not again was silent, but it still rang true between them.

Harry swallowed, eyes downcast at the hand on his foot, comforting and real. That was more than he had hoped for, the honesty that he'd given willingly. It bolstered Harry's courage and made his own confession sting that much more. "In my world, I tried as hard as I could, but a lot of people ended up dying because of me," Harry said. "Strangers. Friends. Family. It didn't matter that I was the chosen one in my world, I barely did it through the first time, and I left the only home I ever known in pieces because of that."

James's eyebrows came together and his fingered curled securely over his ankle. He leaned forwards, demanding Harry's full attention like his presence could wipe away the echoing memory of guilt and death. "You were too young. Are too young to be dealing with any of that. It wasn't your fault, and if you think this is some kind of warning for me to fend off because you think you're … cursed, or something, then-"

Harry freely laughed out a low, very dark breath of a chuckle. "You've already seen parts of my past. What happens around me. Being cursed does sound about right."

James rolled his eyes lightly, confusing Harry at his nonchalance. "You're not cursed. You're young and placed in a series of impossible situations. No one could blame you for how you react. Especially with the adult influences on your life so far."

Harry didn't think that was true. He knew the newspapers didn't think that was true, and Harry had seen the faces of enough families looking over coffins to understand that they didn't think that was true either. They thought that fighting for the right side, the light, for him, would be doing the right thing, that it would protect them somehow from the evil that they fought. Harry had seen the tears, the heartbroken shakes of shoulders, and the stares of people that followed him after the war. The broken trusts of people that had given everything. Their loved ones, their lost ones.

Harry just knew that James couldn't see that because he'd never met Harry when he wasn't like the way he was now. People didn't blame him? "I do," Harry said, never looking away. "I was there when he returned to power, and I was there when he failed. Everything in between wasn't because I'd pointed the wand on them, but it was because people kept jumping in front of me to take the hits that were made for me."

"It's a war Harry, and I know that sounds callous, but it's been a war. Expecting everyone to live through that is a fantasy in childhood naivete," he said seriously. "You learned that harsh lesson too young, as most kids do when their lives are filled with violence, but it doesn't mean that you won't do everything to protect your friends and family in the future. It just means that sometimes you can't. It's not up to you."

He pressed his lips together in a sorry sort of smile and squeezed his ankle once more. Then he leaned back and removed his hand, reaching for the letter under his seat with Harry's name on it. The silence between them was final, and when James stood up and handed Harry the letter, Harry couldn't decipher the feelings that ran through his chest at the older man about to leave. "Here," James said lightly, the letter landing on Harry's lap gently, "Lily told me to give this to you from Charlie."

Harry looked down at the letter and broke the red wax seal in the middle. "Already?" Harry asked. Natara. Their connection. Lily had said that Charlie could provide him answers.

James tucked his hands into his robes beside him and nodded. "Wanted to contact you as soon as he could about your 'communication with dragons' as Lily put it."

Harry looked up at James in surprise for a moment, then blinked in realization. Of course, he would know. Lily had probably told him. Actually, if she knew, then Dumbledore probably knew too. Maybe the entirety of the Order. Damn. Harry blinked and cleared his throat. "Right."

The parchment unfolded itself for him and Harry found himself staring at strings of messy black scrawlings. Harry grimaced and pulled the paper closer to his face. "Is this even English?"

James laughed and scooted his chair closer to Harry's bed, the earlier tense atmosphere between them disappearing. He effortlessly pulled the letter from Harry's hand and then tipped his head to the side. "You know, it is, you just wouldn't be able to tell with the way he writes," James grinned at him.

Harry rose an eyebrow, mimicking the easy banter. "And you can?"

James winked. "Well, it takes one to know one right? Poor McGonagall, in my youth, this would have been preferable."

Harry felt like rolling his eyes at the older man's tone and felt himself smiling instead. He waved his hand at the parchment. "Get on with it."

James leaned back down in his chair and pulled the paper up closer to his face.

"Dear Mr. Potter," James started off, his voice imitating what Harry thought James thought the red-head sounded like. Harry cracked a grin. "Lily told me about what really happened in the Burning of Hogsmead instead of what the papers said, and the reasons behind it. She told me about your connection with the female Green Welsh, Natara, and later that night I would confess that I went researching. I had only ever heard of rumors and legends about it, and what I found were theories, nothing more. No one has ever been able to directly communicate with dragons before. It may never be possible. They are a different species, and they originate from a different sort of magic. To be able to sense how Natara is doing, or make communication at all is nothing short of a miracle in itself."

James took a breath, "However, in the tombs of the histories of dragons trainers, found in the 13th century, there was an Italian man of the name Zago Indovinello. He was a known Parselmouth in his small fishing village. He had grown up next to a known nest of Wyverns (sea-dwelling, cousins, of dragons) and was known to have befriended one of the dragons, who he named, Drago-"

Harry snorted in amusement. "How original."

James grinned and kept on. "Zago was thrown out of his village because of his association with the dragon, as people then thought that dragons were spirits of the devil who came to terrorize humans on earth. Zago fled to Romania, at the time known as Transylvania, with Drago in hopes that he would be able to live in peace, where he consequently met the șef or Chief of dragon tamers, Șef Darius Dumitru. Darius granted him stay, and his dragon, so they could study how the two grew in companionship. Years later Zago admitted in one of his personal diaries that though he had grown up with Drago, there were times when the two could not often understand one another for their form of communication varied on images, and feelings, not dialogue and diction. Although, he also said that the longer he was around Drago, and other dragons as well, the speed of their communication steadily grew. Unfortunately, the length of communication between Zago and Drago inevitably killed Drago, at the beginning of the 14th century, when a raid against the dragon trainers turned deadly." James took another breath. "Other sporadic legends of dragon riders and communicators have been heard around the world, but Zago was the first to be recorded."

Harry leaned back in his pillows. "So it's because I'm a Parselmouth."

James looked up from the letter. "Possibly," James admitted. "That would seem to be the linking factor here."

Harry nodded, and James continued on. "From what Lily has told me, you share a great number of similarities to Zago and Drago's relationship. If you would let me, I would like to be able to see you and Natara soon so I could see the level of communication you both have with one another. While Zago and Drago were the first to be recorded of sharing a mind, they were not the last. In the early eighteenth century, a dragon and his communicator were known to have such a close connection, they could communicate from miles away, and shared a united magical core. Now, I'm not saying that you and Natara have that, but I would like to come and help you discover how far your bond reaches. Whether it's Zago and Drago's bond, or something much deeper. Please respond within the next three days as I'll have to prepare to come back to England and take time away from the dragons already here. Sincerely, Charlie Weasley."

James let the letter drop to his lap, and Harry's eyes followed it, unsure of what to say. He had a 'bond' with a dragon. A bleedin dragon. Harry had always thought that Fate had a cruel sense of humor before, but now thinking of where he was, and his past relationships with dragons, Harry was sure that someone has his name on their shit list. Merlin.

James rubbed at the back of his head and yawned. "And the plot thickens," he joked lightly, handing the letter back to Harry.

Harry eyed the letter dryly. "I'd rather the plot crumble, to be honest."

James laughed, handing the parchment over. "It just keeps better and better doesn't it?"

"Apparently," Harry answered, shaking his head and folding the letter up before he put it away. He'd write back later.

James watched him for a moment before he stood. "Will you be alright by yourself?" he asked, looking Harry over. "I've got to go check on everything downstairs and let everyone know you're awake."

"Reporting into Dumbledore?" Harry asked with a sudden cold look.

"Reporting into the wife actually. She's been mad with worry," James answered easily.

Harry felt his shock of anger drain away and he dropped his gaze. "Oh."

James grinned. "Oh is right." He looked on farther down the room where Harry was sure Madam Pomfrey was staying. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to shout alright?" Harry nodded wordlessly, and James began to step backward. "Jonathan will probably be up in a moment to come bother you, but if he's too much, just send him off to someone in the family alright?" Harry nodded again and James grinned. "And if your friends come calling again, let them know you're okay and haven't been killed by a giant snake." Harry nodded one last time and James turned around with a smile, heading for the doors, and the people downstairs.

When the Hospital Wing doors closed behind him, Harry leaned back in his bed and let his thoughts take over his tired body with slowly closing eyes.

Damn, he needed that shower.

It had been three days since he'd gotten back from the Malfoy Manor and the Chamber of Secrets. Three days of a ton of different people he didn't recognize nodding at him around the halls of Hogwarts in approval and some poorly hidden suspicion. Three days of growing conversations between him and the Potter family, and three days of knowing this world's Hermione a little better. It was actually going rather smoothly if Harry admitted it to himself.

No long awkward conversations had come up from any of the Order members or the Potter family, no Voldemort attacks had been reported in the paper or seen by the Order since the Malfoy Manor, and all of his body was healed up rather well too thanks to Madam Pomfrey. Harry was feeling better than he had in days, or really, in months, and it made the job of horcrux hunting a lot easier for him.

He'd destroyed the Diadem of Ravenclaw in the Room of Requirement the moment he'd been left alone after getting out of the Hospital Wing, and that meant, out of seven, he'd destroyed three. The locket from Draco, the journal in Malfoy Manor, and then the diadem. He had four to go. Maybe three. It depended if he really was once again a Horcrux, which really, Harry was vainly hoping to not have to prove again. Ever.

Hermione and Ron hadn't contacted him either since the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't know if that was because they were researching and just had lost track of time, or if something darker had happened. If they were in trouble. If they needed him.

It was all very headache-inducing.

Harry had also visited Natara. When he had visited, Hagrid and Bill were both there helping the dragon recover from her own injuries from the Burning of Hogsmead. Apparently, her wings were in a bad way, and a lot of scales had been either missing or torn from her skin from powerful curses. Nothing Harry had ever heard about before.

Although she was getting better, Hagrid had insisted with a jovial grin and a deep look at the dragon. It would just take a while to get her back to peak condition. Something that Harry knew Natara found amusing. She enjoyed the gamekeeper's attitude towards her, respectful, but firm when treating her wings or scales. Harry knew Natara liked him, he could feel it.

Which really, was something that made Harry's letter back to Charlie all that more pressing. If he did have a sort of 'bond' with Natara, then when he left this world, would it hurt her? Would she have to go with him? Was he even allowed a dragon in London? Charlie had written back about a day ago saying he was getting his affairs in order and would portkey in another day or two to Hogwarts to answer all his questions.

Until then, Harry found himself either researching about this world horcruxes, or speaking with the Order on the plans against Voldemort. Which led him to the first official Order meeting back in Grimmauld Place since the attack on Hogwarts. Harry was present, but since Jonathan was still technically in school, and hadn't graduated yet, he was left at Hogwarts with Luna, Ginny, and despite Harry's efforts, Hermione.

He glared at Moody across the room, who had stood at the back of the room with his back against one of its ancient walls. "She's not going to kill you all. She wants to know more about us."

Moody leveled his magical eye straight down at Harry and grimaced darkly. "She's a witch-hunter boy. Has been for years. Everything we tell her could be used against us when we have our backs turned on her. She shouldn't even be allowed inside Hogwarts."

"It's her birthright," Harry argued venomously.

"She chose the course of her life Potter. She chose to be a hunter. She no longer has any privilege to her so-called birthright."

"That's garbage and you know it. She didn't know any better! No one helped her when the Wizarding world turned against her family. Of course she would have been bitter about it and joined something she thought could avenge her family! Anyone else would have done the same thing!"

Moody took a threatening step forwards. "That's what makes her dangerous boy! Do you think she's now just started to get over the part of dark wizards murdering her family? That all of a sudden she's just going to volunteer to be a part of any sort of magic she's been trained to hate for most of her life?" Moody glared down at Harry with unblinking steely eyes and Harry couldn't find himself to throw up any arguments. Because no, Harry didn't know. He had talked to Hermione these last couple of days, but never about her past. It was always carefully avoided and labeled as her just feeling guilty or uncomfortable to talk about.

Moody caught on to Harry's pensive frame of mind and shook his head gruffly. "You're not thinking clearly. You see her as a friend from your other world, but here, she never got the chance to be who she could have been. Here, she chose to hate magic and everyone associated with it. We have no idea who she works for, or what she's done in her career choices since she's joined up with the lot of them. She could have killed someone in the Order in the past, and we would have no idea. She could be gaining information on us right now, just to take back to her little friends and we would still be arguing over whether or not she's to be trusted." Moody looked around the room to the silent Order members and grasped the head of his long staff firmly against him. "I've said my piece, and I stand by it. She can't be trusted."

"That's what you said about Harry when he first came to us," Fred said somewhere from the back of the living room next to his twin brother. George nodded along as if he were thinking the same thing.

Moody glanced at them. "Harry Potter came from a magical portal we summoned him from. We didn't know him, but he had the potential to be trusted. This Granger girl is not only completely new to the Order but has a history against it as well. They're two completely different cases."

The twins didn't say anything back, and Harry found the room around him completely silent for a moment. He didn't think he could say anything either.

"Well, we'll keep an eye on her," Lily broke the silence in an armchair next to James. "If she truly has changed her ways, she should be given the opportunity to do so without feeling like we're going to slice her neck at any given moment." Harry felt relief sink through his bones and Lily frowned lightly at the room around her. "If she really is just a spy, then, well-" she glanced at Harry for a moment, "we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. But as of right now, we have no evidence she isn't just interested in developing her magic and learning more about the world she was born into." She stared around at the room with a touch of steel in her green eyes. "She will be watched, but she will be left alone." Her gaze landed on Moody for a second before she turned to Dumbledore. "Is that alright Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her. "I couldn't have said it better myself Mrs. Potter." Dumbledore stared around the room after her, his gaze landing on Harry. "Now onto other things."

UP NEXT: A plan is made, Charlie comes for a visit, and a familiar face is found in the worst of times.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews!

~Missmusicluver