Disclaimer: This world and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I wrote this purely for entertainment purposes, and have no wish to sell, copyright or otherwise claim any of this content.
James was pulled out of sleep by the sound of his bedroom door swinging open. Can it really be morning already…? James wondered drowsily, blinking his eyes open. Then he realized that no, it wasn't morning. In fact, it didn't appear to be even close: the only light came from the dim nightlight he kept in the hall, and that was only visible because the door was open. Outside, it was pitch-black.
The door swung quietly closed, and James squinted as a small shape padded around the side of the bed and then stopped, hovering nervously in the darkness. "Dad?" the shape whispered.
"What's up?" James mumbled, half pushing himself up on his elbow and wondering what Harry could possibly need at this time of night.
Instead of answering, Harry just leaned forward onto the bed, crawling under the warm covers to nestle against James' side. Sighing, James shifted to make room, wrapping an arm around his seven-year-old son. "Nightmare?" he asked softly.
Harry nodded and mumbled something unintelligible, his head buried under the blankets. Within seconds, however, his breathing had slowed and a quiet snore emanated from beneath the covers. James sighed again and shifted into a more comfortable position, trying not the pull the covers off his sleeping son.
James didn't know what the nightmares were about; Harry never seemed to remember them when awoke in James' bed the next morning, only that they had been scary. James never pressed it, but he did wonder occasionally if Harry could remember those awful days of six years ago, if his sub-conscience brought them to the surface while he slept. He had even asked Alice once if Neville had similar dreams about his father facing the Lestranges. Alice, though, had just shrugged. Sure, he has nightmares, she'd said. But don't all boys? I don't think it's anything to worry about; I'm sure he'll grow out of them eventually. Then she had grimaced at James, letting him know that she while she didn't agree with him, she didn't necessarily disagree either. Take him to see a healer if you're worried, she'd suggested, and then had invited them both over to dinner.
James closed his eyes, stroking his son's soft hair – just as unruly as his own – and willed himself back to sleep. Maybe, by sleeping in the same bed, he could will himself into Harry's dreams. Not to see what they were about: in the end, that didn't even matter to James. He only wished himself there so that he could protect Harry from whatever bad dreams plagued him, so that he could take his hand and lead him out of danger into a better and more restful place.
James stepped out of the lift on the third floor of the Ministry of Magic, threading through the quickly growing stream of people headed for the lifts. Walking through the familiar corridors of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, James yet again found himself wondering why he had been even the least bit surprised when Sirius took a job here in the aftermath of the war. The phrase Magical Accidents and Catastrophes should have been a dead giveaway, and even if it wasn't then the fact that they had an entire office dedicated to constructing lies that muggles would actually believe ought to have sufficed. Sirius seemed to have found his true calling as the head of the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.
James reached the conference room where Sirius spent most of his day, then stifled a small groan as he realized the room was empty. Then again, maybe he had been justified in expecting that Sirius would stay in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That was certainly where he seemed to spend most of his time.
Grumbling to himself and wondering why Sirius couldn't send a simple paper plane like the rest of the Ministry, James made his way back up to level two and walked down another, equally familiar hall to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He had just reached the door when there was a startled yelp, a string of curses and a familiar laugh. Pushing the door open, he found Sirius, Weasley and Perkins clustered around a small table.
Sirius looked up and grinned at James, but Weasley was too busy trying to get Perkins to take his hands away from his face to notice.
"I can help," Weasley was arguing, "My wife is very could at healing charms, and I've picked up a thing or two – boys, you know –" but Perkins was having none of it.
"You'll make it worse," he groaned, and Sirius turned back to them with a sigh. "Here, let me –" he stepped forward, with his wand raised, and Perkins finally lowered his arms to reveal a quickly-coloring bruise forming in the middle of his forehead. Sirius couldn't quite hold back a chuckle as he waved his wand in a tight circle.
"It isn't funny," Perkins groused, rubbing his forehead.
"You shouldn't have been so close to it," Sirius said, still grinning. James stepped further into the room to see what they had been doing.
There was a small house-shaped box sitting on the table. It was ornately decorated, with a fancy clock face in the middle and a small door at the top. There were long chains attached to the bottom, which hung over the far side of the table. "What is it?" he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was in a hurry.
"A muggle bird clock," Weasley answered, stepping forward to survey the thing with him. "Every time it hits the hour, a little bird comes out of here," he tapped the small door, "and makes a noise. Only someone's enchanted this one to attack the owner." He shot an amused glance at Perkins, his lips twitching beneath his ginger mustache.
"Right," Sirius said cheerfully, stepping forward. "Well, I have an idea – I'm not sure it will work, mind you, so you might want to step back – it'll only take a few minutes –"
"But it can wait until tomorrow," James interrupted, the clock having reminded him that he needed to hurry. "If we don't leave now we'll be late to meet Harry and Neville."
"It'll only take a sec –"
"No," James said firmly. "Now." He raised his wand threateningly, and Sirius grimaced, taking a step back.
"Okay, fine. I'll be back tomorrow, Arthur, so if you haven't fixed it by then –"
"I should be getting home anyway, Molly will be wondering –"
"Great, so I'll stop by in the morning –"
"Padfoot," James groaned, stepping back out of the door. "Now!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Sirius said, grabbing his bag from a chair and waving to Weasley and Perkins as he followed James out the door.
Despite James' worries, they made good time. Most of the foot traffic in the Atrium was headed for the Floo, anyway, and the short walk to the lift which would take them to the phone box outside the Ministry was practically empty. James waved to Eric Munch, the security wizard who always checked visitor's wands, and then they were in the lift, shooting to the surface of Muggle London.
Stepping out, James stuck out his wand hand while Sirius rummaged in his pockets for some sickles. The Knight Bus materialized with a bang, and James and Sirius stepped onboard, heading to their usual seats after paying their fare.
Ever since Sirius had been caught in the explosion caused by Peter's curse, he had been unable to Apparate. It wasn't that he couldn't – he had tried, the very day he had been considered fully recovered, and it had ended disastrously. James could still remember the panic he'd felt, seeing Sirius collapse on arrival, gasping for breath and saying that he couldn't breath. Apparently the pressure had collapsed one of his lungs again. Sirius had been both frustrated and furious at the time, but he had eventually accepted the fact that he likely wouldn't ever be able to Apparate safely again. Sometimes he Flooed, but he had admitted to James that even that left him feeling breathless and sore. The fact that he couldn't Apparate was the main reason Sirius had switched his career to the the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Auror work was too dangerous for anyone who couldn't safely Apparate out of danger.
"… so I said sure, I'll just take a quick look, see if I can help –" Sirius stopped for a moment to let a woman so heavily laden with bags she seemed in danger of getting stuck slide down the narrow aisle on the bus. The bus lurched forward and the woman stumbled, but Sirius just reached out to steady her as he hung onto the post of the bed James was sitting on. She muttered a thank you and moved on, and Sirius continued his story.
"– and then Tonks comes running in going on about some idiot who thought it was a good idea to animate those skeletons the muggles put everywhere this time of year, and he wanted a story right now, as though it couldn't wait half a minute –"
The bus slammed to a stop, nearly throwing James off the bed. "Upper Flagley!" the conductor yelled. James stood, and Sirius led the way out.
"The muggles do it because they think it's scary," James said. Luckily the Longbottoms lived just a few blocks from the bus stop, so it was only a three minute walk. "And what's more scary than animated skeletons?"
Sirius grinned. "Actually, I thought it was brilliant, wished I'd thought of it myself. Tonks didn't seem to think it was nearly as funny, though, he made me sit down and come up with an excuse right then and there – apparently he was on the news in half an hour – and by the time I'd done that I only had a few minutes to check in with Arthur. Did you know he has a son around Harry's age?"
James shook his head, turning right and pushing through the gate of the house that Alice and Neville lived in. He couldn't help but remember running up this very path six years ago, adrenaline and fear running through his veins – but it was only a memory. And there were many more happier and more recent memories crowding it to the back, memories of Harry and Neville growing up together….
He rang the doorbell and stepped back. "How many kids does he have now?" he asked, remembering Sirius' question.
"Six, I think. Or is it seven – yes, I think it's seven. Six sons, one –"
The door flew open, and James barely had time to brace himself before he found his arms full of a sobbing Alice. He shot a startled glance at Sirius, who was looking just as perplexed.
"Alice?" James asked. He peered over her shoulder and heard young, excited voices coming from inside. "Alice, what – ?"
Alice pulled back, and James was shocked to find her beaming at him through her tears. "He said my name," she choked, and let out a wet laugh. "Sorry, I'm crying all over you – come in, they're in the sitting room." She took his arm and tugged him inside, Sirius pulling the door shut behind them. "I just – can't believe it, they said it wasn't possible –" and suddenly James realized what she was talking about.
After being tortured under the Cruciatus Curse, Frank had never fully recovered. He had spent weeks in the hospital, undergoing multiple tests and treatments while Alice hunted down and eventually captured all three Lestranges and the fourth Death Eater who had been identified as Barty Crouch Jr. When she had returned, the healers had informed her that Frank would likely never make a full recovery, and that the best option would be to house him in the permanent spell damage ward. He was able sit up, and seemed almost aware of what was going on, but this was the first time in six years that he had spoken aloud. That he had spoken at all was a miracle, and meant that with time and the right treatments, he might possibly recover further.
"Alice, that's wonderful!" James exclaimed, and she turned back to beam at him again. "How – just now?"
They entered the sitting room, where Harry and Neville were talking excitedly. "I reckon it'll be you next," Harry was saying, and Neville was nodding, his smile wide enough to split his small face. "He'll say 'Neville,' and won't that be great?" Harry glanced up as James entered the room. "Hi Dad, hi Uncle Padfoot – guess what happened at the hospital –"
"Dad said Mum's name!" Neville blurted out, then looked embarrassed that he'd interrupted. Harry looked mildly annoyed, like he'd wanted to tell James the news himself, but this was quickly replaced by excitement.
"And I said to Neville – I said, it'll be you next –"
"That's wonderful," James repeated giving his son a quick hug in greeting and keeping an arm around him as he turned to Alice. "If you want to go back I'll just take the boys, Neville can stay for dinner."
Alice looked torn. "But it's Halloween, I can't –"
"Go," James said firmly. "This is an amazing opportunity, Alice, one that you can't miss. If you come home early you can meet us in Godric's Hollow, and if not I'll bring Neville around at eight."
Alice stood, already moving to grab her traveling cloak from where she had thrown it on a chair. "Thank you so much, you have no idea – Neville, love, behave, I'll see you tonight." She planted one more kiss on his head, then nearly ran out the door in her haste to Disapparate back to the hospital.
Neville watched her go with a slightly forlorn expression on his face, but then Harry was there, bouncing from one foot to the other and tugging on his sleeve. "Neville, come on, we need to get ready in our costumes!" He pulled Neville down the hall to the door, chatting excitedly while Sirius and James brought up the rear.
As soon as they got home, Sirius and Harry disappeared up to Harry's room while James stayed downstairs to help Neville with his costume. Harry and Neville had been planning their costumes for weeks, and while James knew that Neville was planning to be a merman, he had no idea what Harry was going to dress up as. All he knew was that last Monday Sirius had whispered something in his godson's ear, and Harry had bust out laughing before refusing to tell James anymore about it. Neville knew, James was sure, but Harry had apparently sworn him to secrecy; whenever questioned about it, Neville would blush a bright red and refuse to open his mouth.
"Ahh," James commanded, and Neville obediently opened his mouth so that James could charm his teeth to appear sharper than they were. If Neville had been a bit older, James might have actually made his teeth sharp, but he didn't want him to bite off his tongue.
Neville watched enviously as James helped him change the color of his hair and eyes. Although Harry had been performing accidental magic for a few years now, Neville had yet to exhibit any signs of magic, and James was beginning to wonder if the boy might be a Squib. He knew that Neville's grandmother had posed the idea to Alice, but Alice hadn't been interested. Does it matter? she had demanded, and Mrs. Longbottom had reluctantly dropped the subject. Neville, though, had seemed to realize recently that he was missing out on something, and James had caught him trying to convince Harry to show him how to perform magic.
"How's that?" James asked, conjuring a mirror for Neville to look in. Neville turned and scrutinized himself, examining the robes which made it seem as though he had a tail instead of two legs.
"It's good. Thanks, Mr. Potter."
"Presenting …" Sirius announced as he reentered the room, "Master Harry Potter, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter!"
James' mouth fell open at the sight of the boy who stepped around the door. He was dressed in a dark green jacket with silver fastenings down the front and a ridiculously elaborate lace collar, and black pinstripe trousers. The robes, which James thought he vaguely recognized, were black with silver embroidery around the edges and all up the sleeves. Harry wasn't wearing his glasses, and his hair had been slicked back so that it sat smoothly on his head for the first time James could remember.
James burst out laughing, and the haughty expression Harry had been struggling to hold on his face melted into a grin. "Do you like it?" he demanded, spinning slowly so that James could get the full view.
"I love it," James assured him, still laughing. "A pureblood – this was your idea?" he turned to Sirius.
"Yep," Sirius agreed cheerfully. "And the sacrifices I made to get that costume. I raided my mother's attic," he admitted at James' inquiring look. "Ran into Kreacher – that nasty thing is still alive, can you imagine? But apparently she kept some of mine and Regulus' old things. It's the only redeeming quality she's ever had, and I can assure you it's nowhere near enough."
"Look," Harry said, stepping forward to show James the pin on his jacket. It was a small silver snake, with emerald eyes and a tongue which flicked periodically in and out of its mouth. "I'm a Slytherin too, see? Because all proper purebloods are in Slytherin, right?" he turned to smirk at his godfather. Sirius gave him a thumbs up, but James was suddenly aware of how much his son actually looked the part. The snake, the green-and-silver clothes, they looked almost natural on Harry, and he held himself with an easy confidence, as though no one could question his right to be there. What if Harry is sorted into Slytherin … James shook his head. Does it really matter?
Sirius was dressed as a muggle ninja, a character which he began explaining to a bewildered Neville as Harry ran to retrieve the candy bags from the kitchen table. James then ushered them all out the door, locking it behind him, and they set off down the sidewalk to the town center of Godric's Hollow. It was a short five minute walk, which Harry usually complained about ("Why can't we Apparate? Can I fly? Why don't you ever use the car?"), but tonight he was too excited to complain. He and Neville took off skipping down the sidewalk, and James and Sirius were hard-pressed to keep up.
At first, James and Remus had rented a flat together near Dartmoor, but after a year Remus had needed to move somewhere less populated for his transformations, and James had found himself strangely homesick. He and Harry had tried a few other locations, but when Harry turned four James had made the decision to move back to Godric's Hollow. He liked the mix of wizard- and muggle-folk in the area, and he had wanted to be closer to where Lily was buried. He had bought a small cottage near the village center, and that was where they had lived for the past three years.
They took about an hour to wander around the town, calling "trick-or-treat" to receive candy from muggle households and "treat-for-a-trick" to add wizarding treats to their bags. Harry ran into a few of his friends from his muggle primary school, but for the most part it was just him and Neville leading the way, with James and Sirius trailing along behind.
Finally, around 5:30, they arrived at the graveyard where Harry took the lead to the white marble headstone which marked Lily's grave. Remus was already there, sitting on the cool grass, and stood to greet them as they approached.
"Uncle Moony, check out my costume," Harry said as he ran to forward. He spun for Remus, who commented admiringly before turning to Sirius. "Didn't you wear those robes once?" he asked.
Sirius nodded, grimacing. "Yes, during my sorting. I'm surprised you remembered – I got out of the damn things as soon as I could and haven't worn them since."
James settled on the ground, watching idly as Harry and Neville began to sort through their candy and Sirius regaled Remus about his day at work. Harry's hair, which had begun to unravel before they reached the first house, was now sticking up in the oddest places, making it look as though he was wearing a spiking, slightly furry hat. He had also reclaimed his glasses, and his jacket was unbuttoned to show the bright-red sweater underneath.
Look at our son, Lily, James thought. I wish you were here to see him.
Even now, six years later, James missed Lily as though he had lost her yesterday. He missed her smile, her laugh, her body in his arms. He missed her kindness, her temper, and the way she noticed the small things. He closed his eyes, leaning back against one of the headstones and imagining her sitting on the ground beside him. Don't cry, James. He could almost feel her breath by his cheek. I'm okay. We're okay. But he couldn't help it – he always cried when he came here.
I miss you, Lily. I love you, and I miss you so much.
"Dad." James opened his eyes as Harry and Neville came to join him, Harry squeezing under his arm so that he was pressed against James' side. "Can you show me Mum?"
Smiling, wiping the tears from his cheeks, James drew his wand. After a quick nod from Sirius to say that there were no muggles about, he raised his wand high. "Expecto Patronum!"
He thought of Lily. He thought of her on the day they met, as they shared classes at Hogwarts, as she stood up for Snape against him. He thought of her agreeing to go out with him, stealing kisses while on patrol, moving in with him after they graduated. He thought of Lily on their wedding day, the day Harry was born, and the day she gave her life to her son.
And out of his wand burst a bright, beautiful, silver doe.