Albus Dumbledore
Down in the basement kitchen, Harry pulled each of the boys into a bone-crushing hug worthy of his mother-in-law. They stood together, silently, for longer than any of them cared to recognise. When he did eventually let them go, he set about putting together a steaming pot of tea and pulled some biscuits out of a cupboard.
As Harry moved around the kitchen, he was very aware he was being followed by two sets of eyes that weren't giving much away. No one spoke; the boys barely even dared to breathe. Instead, they watched their father very intently. By the time he had everything together, he knew there was only one thing for it - Harry himself would have to start the conversation.
"So, you want to tell me how we ended up back in the 90s?"
He looked first to Albus, who had a sheepish expression on his face. Then, his eyes settled on James, who was fidgeting with a teaspoon.
"It was one measly little experimental spell!" James said defensively, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "I must have miscalculated with the incantation -"
"- That's the understatement of the century," his brother said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"How many times have we told you not to play with spells?" Harry said seriously. Both of his hands were currently clutched around a very old mug full of tea - it was the only normal part of their current situaiton.
"I wasn't playing!"
"Oh yes you were!" he brother countered.
"I was not! I -"
"- Okay, okay," Harry stepped in, recognising now was the time to step in as referee of the oncoming argument. "There's no point arguing over who did it, or even why. I just need to know exactly what happened."
It was then that a fourth voice in the doorway made its presence known. "I think that would be a very apt place to start."
Harry Potter would recognise that voice anywhere. He was on his feet once again, looking face-to-face with a man he was proud to call his mentor and his friend. The flowing, white beard and hair; the half-moon spectacles and those bright blue eyes. It was calming to see Albus Dumbledore in person once again.
To Harry, Dumbledore said, "Mr Potter. I understand we've had a bit of an incident with time."
"Professor," Harry greeted the man with a smile. "You have no idea how good it is to see you again."
For his part, however, Dumbledore appeared uncomfortable. He took in the scene around him, and definitely looked at Harry - though he wouldn't meet his eyes. Harry suddenly remembered how uncomfortable his interactions with the Headmaster had been prior to the incident at the Department of Mysteries. For the first time - ever - Albus Dumbledore was not treating him as an equal.
"Ah, well," Dumbledore said with a sad smile aimed toward the boys. "An old man can't live forever."
"Debatable," James muttered from his spot at the table. In response to four very confused looks, he added, "What? I've had more lectures from his portrait than McGonagall's ever given me!"
Just as his son had done not two minutes before, Harry rolled his eyes. "If only you applied yourself to schoolwork the same way you do to mischief. It'd make everyone's lives easier, you know."
James shrugged. "School's boring. I'd much rather be having fun."
"Yes, well, your 'fun' just got me sent back to a living nightmare."
James' expression changed then.
Harry sighed. "Sorry, that was uncalled for."
It was too late. Realisation seemed to have dawned over James' features, and the usually fearless teenager slumped back into his seat, curled into himself. It had been a long time since Harry had seen his son like that. It reminded him of the first time James had been yelled at, back when he was barely two years old.
Realisation, however, seemed to have dawned on young Al's face. He should have been ecstatic to find his namesake standing right before him in the flesh, but the truly horrendous awfulness of the feeling washing over him was the only thing he could comprehend.
"Dad," he all but whispered, "we've been sent back to the war, haven't we?"
"We're gonna be fine," Harry told both of his boys, moving carefully around the table so he could bend forward and pull both of his sons into a hug. "I promise."
James' voice was muffled, his face pushed into Harry's shoulder in the hug, but his father could still understand every word he said. "You don't make promises."
"I do now," Harry reassured him.
The moment was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore gently sitting himself in the rickety old chair opposite them.
"I take it you have questions," Harry said to the man, though his attention was still wholly on his boys.
A pause. Harry's attention moved from his sons to Professor Dumbledore, who still wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I know," he said, his voice much stronger than he currently felt. "I know everything. The secrets, the lies ... and the reasons why you couldn't tell me."
The Professor chanced a look and finally met his eyes. In the same second, Harry's scar burnt white hot. It was something he hadn't felt in more than twenty years. His hand flew to his face, and he dropped to his knees in pain. Both boys yelled and jumped out of their chairs, racing toward their father - but Harry holding out a hand to signal them to stop was enough for them to stop.
After a long moment, he managed to say, "I'd forgotten what that felt like."
"Dad?" Al whispered, taking a gentle step forward and laying a hand gingerly on his father's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Harry, who was thankful the pain from his scar was starting to ebb away, managed to look up and give his son a sad smile. Alternating between meeting the worried looks of both of his sons, he said, "There are things I'd hoped you'd never have to know about me. This is one of them."
"But you don't do this at home," James said quietly. "You always say your scar is just a scar. That it's a bad memory."
Harry gratefully accepted Al's hand, and pulled himself to his feet again. To James, he said, "I was a different man here, Jamie. We all made sacrifices ... And in the end, it was that sacrifice that saved me."
He had been looking directly at Professor Dumbledore as he said that. The Professor looked down, almost as though he were ashamed. "You don't just know," the old man said quietly. "You understand."
"I lived it." Harry took a shaky breath, then said, "Look, Professor. We both know what's happening right now. And we both know how to fix it."
"I can arrange for lessons in Legilimency with -"
"- You can try, but even where I come from I was never any good at that."
Harry's determined face said it all. Professor Dumbledore, however, came over with a look of horror.
"Surely you're not suggesting ..."
Harry shrugged. "It's the only way to end it all."
"Sacrificing yourself," Professor Dumbledore whispered, to the boys' shock and horror. "Absolutely not."
"So you'll ask me to do it, just not yet?" Harry countered. "Because it's too early?"
The old man didn't respond.
"If I do this now, no one has to get hurt! We don't have to lose anyone. Do you hear me? It could all be over!"
While Harry had raised his voice, Professor Dumbledore refused to do so. They were in a stand off, Harry glaring at the Professor, and a horrified Dumbledore staring at a spot just above Harry's right ear. That was, until, someone knocked on the kitchen door. When no one answered, the door moved slowly open to reveal Ginny Weasley, who looked curiously from Harry to the Professor and back. She went to say something, but her eyes instead landed on the boys - and she stared with open curiosity.
The boys, however, had a very curious reaction. James sat back down in his seat, suddenly fearful. Al, on the other hand, stared disbelievingly back at her.
"We heard yelling," she finally managed, unable to tear her eyes away from the chocolate brown of the elder boy.
"It's fine, Gin," Harry said at the same time as Professor Dumbledore quietly said, "Thank you for your concern, Miss Weasley. We have the situation under control."
"Oh, I very much doubt that," she found herself countering to the Headmaster, who turned to look at her in surprise. "Since we're apparently married in this future where Harry comes from, I figure I deserve some answers."
No one had a response to that.
"And I'm guessing these two have something to do with me."
Harry cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the boys. They quickly settled on Ginny, who had closed the door behind her. "Uh - yes."
it was a lame response, but it was all he had in that moment.
"So we're married with two kids."
Another pause, then, "Three. The youngest is a daughter."
She surveyed him for a moment, then said, "You picked a fine time to suddenly start telling me the whole truth."
He shrugged. "It's your future, too."
"Mr Potter," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, "I would advise you that the less you share about the future, the better for protecting the timeline."
"The timeline?" Harry all but spat. His fist suddenly hit the table, and he lost it. "I've done my fair share of protecting everyone else, Albus. My whole life trajectory was determined by a stupid prophecy that could just as well have been about someone else. I grew up without any love or affection, because that's what was best - that I know nothing of who I was and where I came from. I have fought an evil dictator over and over again because he decided I was the boy born on the right night. I watched my parents be murdered. Do you have any idea how many times I have relived that in a dream? Do you know what it's like to wake up one day and realise that your nightmare is actually something you lived through?"
No one moved a muscle. And still, Harry continued.
"You have no idea what it is like to be vilified because you know the truth. You know what is happening, you have seen it with your own eyes - and yet everyone around you is too blind to understand. Not because they can't, but because they don't want to."
"And then - then one day, you find out the awful, awful truth. That you have been raised, and tried, and tested, all so you could grow up to be the sacrificial lamb. Who was born, killed, and died to save everyone else. And who was so damn sure you know what you're doing that he did it willingly. I put all of my faith in you, Albus Dumbledore. So damn it - for once, you can put your faith in me."
Harry was breathing so hard he felt like he'd run a marathon at the end of that.
The Professor quietly surveyed him as he slumped into the chair, his head on the table. "Of course I have faith in you, Harry," he said quietly. "But, knowing what I know ... Can you blame me?"
Four sets of eyes were on Harry, who raised his head off the table to look the Professor square in the eyes. "No. But I'm also not going to thank you."
"I wouldn't expect you to."
Harry looked away then, tears forming in his eyes from the pain in his scar.
"I do, however, feel the need to thank you."
Harry looked back then, this time quizzically.
"I cannot imagine asking you to do what you need to do ... But in this instance, I was referring to my namesake."
The glint was back in the old man's eye, almost as though he were holding back a smile.
Harry looked over to Al, and put an arm out to ruffle his hair. "He was named for two men we respected," Harry said thoughtfully. "Once we understood."
"Two men?" the Professor asked the boy, who waited for a nod from his father before saying anything.
"Albus Severus," Al said quietly, watching the shock cross Albus Dumbledore's face.
"You really do know," the old man all but breathed.
"Yes," Harry said strongly. "And I want in. To the Order."
"No," was the swift response.
Harry laughed humourlessly. "With all due respect, Professor, we both know even if you don't let me in, I'm going to find a way."
"Not openly," Dumbledore continued. "Not to the full Order. This," he gestured to Harry and the boys, "is not something everyone needs to know."
Professor Dumbledore looked to the boys, and said quickly, "For the duration of your time here, you will be James and Al Prewett, distant relatives of the Weasley family. Your American mother insisted you were educated at Ilvermorny, though the current climate has seen you transferred back to Hogwarts to be nearer your family. You will both reside in Gryffindor tower. That is, if there are no objections?"
Dumbledore looked to Harry, who quickly shook his head, then to Ginny, who took a moment to realise she was being asked for her permission. "Oh - no."
"Jamie, you'll be with me in fifth year. Al, I'm putting you with mum in fourth."
"But dad, I've already done my O.W.L.s, and -"
"- And you can prove to us how smart you are all over again," Harry said, the tone of his voice indicating its finality.
"And I get to do the fourth year I never really got, right?"
Harry smiled at Albus, and pulled him in for a hug. "You never have to live that nightmare again, Al. I just wanna make that very, very clear."
"It's our fault you have to live yours again."
Though his words rang true, Harry wouldn't let his boys see the fear in his eyes. He closed his eyes tight, willing away the tears. When he finally did open his eyes again, they were on Ginny, who sent him the tiniest of smiles. "No, buddy. We're gonna get ourselves home. If there's one person who can help us figure out how, it's -"
"- Aunt Hermione?" James suggested helpfully. He didn't notice his mother blanche at that, though she recovered quickly.
"Well, yes," he admitted, "but I was going to say there's no one better to help than Albus Dumbledore."
