A/N: I'll probably put up another chapter or two to see if there's any interest in this. Like I said, if there isn't, I'll stop :). Two things I noticed: story is unfolding quicker than I imagined it would and Dumbledore interrupts people A LOT in this chapter. He should probably be a little more polite. :) Tell me if you're enjoying this, I'm not sure if this line of plot is interesting to anyone but me haha. Happy reading!

Chapter 2:

Wordlessly, Harry allowed himself to be pulled along by… his mother.

His mother.

He could scarcely think those words without his heart thudding a little harder. His hands were shaking, but thankfully she hadn't noticed the way his fingers trembled against her palm. And his father was following along in their wake, mumbling about "bossy birds". What was going on? Was this really happening?

Lily let go of Harry's hand once she was assured that he was steady and following her lead. He missed it more than he would have admitted, but then James finally sped up to jog backwards in front of them, his eyes on Harry's mother. "Hey, Evans, do you even know the password to give the stone gargoyles?"

She rolled her eyes, the same ones that Harry saw in the mirror every day, and gave James a withering look. "I'm a prefect, Potter. I know you don't know much about them, seeing as you could never hope to be one, but the prefects have the password to the Headmaster's office in case of an emergency."

"And this is an emergency," his eyes dropped down to Harry, who felt a little thrill tingle in his spine. His dad was so wicked cool. Harry could tell by his easy and relaxed air that he had been born to this world and even in the few minutes he had spent here, James gave the impression that he held it all in the palm of his hand.

He liked them both, he decided. They were no longer pictures or reflections in the mirror but living and breathing people with personalities. However, they didn't seem to be too crazy about each other…or at least, Lily didn't seem to be too crazy about James.

"You know, mate, you could be my little brother." James squinted at the boy through his glasses. "I see a resemblance."

"Never mind I said that about ten minutes ago."

"Oh, that's what you were going on about?" James grinned at her. "And here I thought you never paid attention to my looks, Evans."

"Shut it." Rolling her eyes, she glanced down at Harry again. "I'm sorry about him. You know Potter, I think I've got it from here. Why don't you go find someone else to bother."

"No!" It was out of his mouth before Harry could hold it back and they both stopped, startled a little by his abrupt plea.

Harry felt his face get a little hot, but his teenaged father inadvertently came to his rescue. "See, Evans? He likes me!"

"Merlin only knows why…"

The boy between them decided that the best thing he could do for the time being would be to keep his mouth shut. He remembered the feel of Lily's hand in his own and the grass beneath his head. Everything felt so real…but could he be dreaming? It seemed so vivid… Why wouldn't he wake up? He didn't know too much about the limits of the Wizarding World, but the eleven-year old felt it safe to say that he had gotten himself into quite a situation. But he felt confident that Dumbledore would know what to do. Dumbledore had to know what to do.

The gargoyles that guarded the headmaster's office looked even more unamused than usual at their arrival, if that were even possible of the grotesque stone creatures. Lily assertively stepped in front of them. "Acid Pops."

"It's very early, young lady," one of them grumbled reprovingly. Lily groaned.

"Will you just let us through? It's important!"

"Oh right away," the other one said dryly, and they parted to admit the three.

"Concrete gits…" James muttered, hopping restlessly from one foot to the other. Harry gaped at him in fascination. So his phantom-hallucination-whatever-he-was father was a morning person. And his mother seemed irritated with his inability to keep still.

"Heel, Potter."

James merely grinned and looked up as they rose, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Harry was now getting the impression that there was more to it than James being an early-riser. He appeared to be really enjoying this, for whatever reason. That grin remained on his face as they entered the sacred grounds of the headmaster, and Harry's eyes widened at all manner of strange objects cluttering the room. He wouldn't have imagined Dumbledore's office looking like this, but by the same token, it was perfect.

"Good morning," came a pleasant voice from behind them. Harry jumped a little, wondering where exactly the headmaster had come from, being strongly reminded of one of his last memories before he landed here, in front of the mirror. The other two looked to have been expecting that sort of entrance and turned more smoothly toward the sound.

Albus Dumbledore did not look much younger than he did when Harry knew him, and the young boy didn't know what to make of that (was he really in the past?). His eyes found Harry quickly and they twinkled familiarly at him as he uttered a soft "ahh…" in what Harry didn't dare hope was recognition.

"A rather odd threesome to find in my office this early in the morning, but I never mind an interesting guest or two… Ms. Evans?"

Of course he would assume that Lily had the answers. She was a prefect and was the only person that could have gained them entrance to the headmaster. "Good morning, sir. I might have taken this up with Professor McGonagall, but I thought that—"

"Like I said, Ms. Evans, I don't mind at all. What is this about?" He was still eyeing Harry with interest. James continued to fidget with his robes, obviously impatient. And the headmaster was not surprised when James cut the girl off.

"Well you see, Headmaster," James knocked his head toward his younger counterpart. "This kid here fell from the sky this morning. I saw it right there on the Quidditch pitch! I was trying to get in some early morning practice and Evans dropped by to yell at me—"

"Oh, right!" Lily seethed on cue. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter—"

"—and out of nowhere! The little bloke was lying on the ground all by himself. Of course, we went over to investigate, and when we got him up, the little guy didn't have a clue where he was." After James' enthusiastic delivery, he looked around at them and paused dramatically. "And that …is what happened."

"He's merely here as a witness, Professor." Lily shot James a heated look that ordered him to shut his mouth, in no uncertain terms. Then she smiled reassuringly down at the younger boy with her. "His name is Harry, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him, so we didn't take him to the hospital wing, but… we just don't understand how he got here and…we thought it would be best to bring him to you."

Dumbledore nodded, and watched the subject of discussion with enough intensity that Harry began to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Harry?" Harry nodded, rendered momentarily dumb. "Tell me, do you know who I am?"

"Yes…" Harry muttered, hoping to be as honest as possible. "I know you."

"Do you go to school here?"

"Yes."

"What House?"

"Gryffindor."

Both of the other students started at Harry's words and Harry winced as Lily shook her head.

"Sir…I don't think that's possible, I—"

"I know, Ms. Evans. I know that you would already know this boy if he were a Gryffindor student, just as I know every student that attends this school. Now I must ask both you and Mr. Potter to wait outside please. I need to speak to young Harry alone."

Harry wasn't sure how Dumbledore knew exactly what he needed in order to talk to him, but he was relieved when his teenage parents obediently, albeit reluctantly, left the room. When the door made a thick, hollow sound, Dumbledore moved to his desk, gesturing for Harry to sit before him. With one last glance at the doorway, the barrier that now separated him from his confrontational parents, Harry sank into the proffered chair.

The old man steepled his fingers in front of him once he was settled, and continued to survey Harry quietly. The boy thought that this might be a signal to go on, but he didn't even know what to say. Suddenly, this whole thing began to really hit him. How had this happened? And how was he going to get back?

…did he even want to go back?

It seemed suddenly very long ago that the man in front of him said that it didn't do well to dwell on dreams. And he was pretty sure that if he asked, this man wouldn't remember saying such a thing to him at all.

"That is a very…peculiar scar you have on your forehead, Harry." Dumbledore extended one long finger to gesture to the lightning-bolt shaped scar. Harry rubbed it self-consciously, a little thrown off by the way the headmaster had decided to start their conversation. No accusation of lies or threats or even questions… Harry remembered asking Percy whether Dumbledore was a bit mad that first night at Hogwarts. And Percy had probably said it best: brilliant, but completely mad.

"I've had it since I was a baby," Harry said, the words coming out almost automatically. Dumbledore frowned at him.

"I can't imagine that is an ordinary scar…"

"No," Harry shook his head. "It isn't."

"But you know what strikes me as even more odd?"

"No, sir."

"Well, your extraordinary resemblance to Mr. Potter, the young man who found you this morning. I would say that it is…uncanny. Except for the eyes, that is."

"My mother's eyes," Harry murmured.

"Pardon?"

"I have my mother's eyes," Harry said again, this time realizing that he was speaking aloud. He flushed slightly, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Why don't we start from the beginning then, Mr. Harry…?"

"Potter, sir. Harry Potter."

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"So…what do you suppose they're talking about in there?"

At Lily's voice, James uncrossed his arms and straightened from his relaxed position against the wall. "You're asking me, Evans? You nervous about something?"

Lily huffed, shaking her head. "No. Why would I be nervous? That doesn't even make sense."

"I dunno, you just seem…a little jumpy about all of this."

"Because it's completely normal for little boys to drop out of the sky looking like little miniature Potters? Personally, I find that idea a bit frightening."

Instead of the smarmy response that she was expecting, James merely looked back at her, and his gaze was unusually probing. It was enough that her cheeks heated and she finally said "what?"

"You know, he has your eyes."

"Hmm?" She was uncomprehending, and James sighed.

"He has your eyes. Same color…green. The exact gorgeous color, shape, everything… No, really. The kid has them. So…he's not all me."

James was always complimenting her appearance. She knew that he thought she was fit. He had never had a problem declaring that to the entire school, much to her annoyance and embarrassment. But this was a different kind of compliment; he said it so matter-of-factly, so plainly. He wasn't trying to woo her or show off—no one was around. And he wasn't hitting on her either…

"What did I say wrong this time?" She pulled herself out of her thoughts to see James watching her and obviously not liking what was displayed on her face. She smoothed her expression over as quickly as possible.

"You didn't say anything wrong. I'm just anxious. I hope Dumbledore can help Harry." She determinedly put the conversation back on track, removing other, unimportant things from her mind. Like James being sweet.

"Dumbledore will help 'im. And if Dumbledore can't…well, nobody can, can they?"

Lily groaned, her long hair falling into her face. "Try to be more reassuring, would you?"

James shrugged. "You saw Dumbledore in there…nothing fazes him. I'm sure the little bloke will be back where he came from in no time."

Where he came from…Lily pondered that. The boy said he was in Gryffindor. That was absolutely impossible, as part of Lily's job as a prefect was to know who all of those little buggers were. She would remember a baby-James Potter, for sure.

But it was funny, she would have assumed that a boy looking so like James would make her associate negative things with him. But she didn't.

In fact, part of the reason that this whole thing was making her anxious was the fact that she was finding herself...she didn't know how to describe it. She was drawn to the boy.

And she didn't know why.

There was a rumbling, one that indicated that the staircase was being used again. Both Lily and James stepped back and waited for someone to appear.

"Professor McGonagall."

The older woman looked between them for a moment before finally resting her eyes on James. "Mr. Potter, if I've been woken up this early in the morning due to your shenanigans or disruptive, obnoxious declarations of your unrequited love for Evans, I quite assure you that your weekends will be booked with detentions for the rest of the semester."

Lily couldn't help but smirk at James being completely cowed by their Head of House. He threw his hands up, the picture of unconvincing innocence. However, McGonagall didn't even stick around to listen to his explanations, but brushed past both of them on to the door.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Minerva McGonagall did look younger, and Harry's eyes widened as she entered Dumbledore's inner sanctum, looking momentarily uncertain at the sight of Harry. Her hair was still in that signature tight bun, but darker and fuller-looking. And her face was not as harshly-lined as Harry had seen on his first day of Transfiguration. Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"It's alright, Harry. It is important that Professor McGonagall be here for what I would like to arrange."

Arrange? Dumbledore hadn't mentioned any arrangements before now. He had just finished telling the old wizard everything he could possibly remember about what happened before he had ended up on the Quidditch pitch with two familiar-but-not faces hovering over him.

Yes, Harry was young, and didn't understand a lot of things. But he didn't think that whatever was happening was something that should be shared with a bunch of people. And the longer that he was here, the more uneasy he was beginning to feel. He felt a brief flare of impatience for Dumbledore in that moment. He was hoping that he would get some answers, some help.

After all, it was Dumbledore's mirror that had gotten him into this mess.

"Albus? What is the meaning of this?" she frowned at Harry. "Who is this boy? I just saw Potter and Evans waiting outsi—"

Dumbledore quickly cut across her. "Minerva, I must ask for your absolute discretion in this before I begin."

McGonagall blinked, glancing at Harry one more time before settling on the headmaster. "Of course, but—"

"Wonderful. I'd like you to meet Harry." With a sweeping gesture, Dumbledore indicated the boy in the room. "He has quite the story, and I'd like for you to hear it."

"Is he a new student?"

"As a matter of fact, Minerva, this boy happens to be a member of your House…or I should say will be a member."

Harry hid a smile, as he saw McGonagall's lips getting thinner and thinner. She was clearly confused and she didn't seem to like that too much. It was a relief that some things were the same.

"Please reserve your judgment until you hear Harry's tale." Dumbledore put up a preemptory calming hand, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. "However, before he begins, there are two things that you should know. The first is that this young man seems to have come from a different time by means of a mirror that I shall have in my possession sometime in the future. The other, is that I believe Harry to be the son of the two Gryffindors standing just beyond the door."

A/N: More L/J and L/J/H interaction coming up. Of course, next we should find out what Dumbledore's plan is going to be… Maybe I'll throw you for a loop? Let me know if you like it!