Chapter Four

July 18th, 1981
Godric's Hollow

Harry could not stop smiling.

In fact, he could not recall being this happy in years—not since before Sirius died. He knew that he should be concerned about how and why he had somehow ended up in 1981, but Harry was happy, and his smile was so big it was almost painful. Which he imagined made it all the more disconcerting for his father, who kept a level wand aimed in his direction.

He did not blame the man one bit. Harry was certain that if he had opened the door one morning to find a stranger on his front step proclaiming to be his son from the future, he would have assumed it was a trick as well. James Potter, despite epic tales of mischief-making that Harry thrived on, was not a man to be trifled with.

"Glare at me all you'd like," Harry said to his father, "I'm not going to stop being happy to see you."

James's hazel eyes narrowed, the wand in his hand turned in silent threat, and Harry actually laughed as his heart swelled with joy. His father was alive. Alive and right in front of him. Alive and narrowing his eyes and threatening him.

"Are you sure it'll work, Lils?" James called into the other room, not taking his gaze or his wand off of Harry.

There was a loud scoff of indignation followed by a very offended Lily Potter squawking, "I beg your pardon, Potter? I brewed this Veritaserum myself, I'll have you know. Just because you don't know the difference between aconite and wormwood . . ."

Harry smirked as his mother's voice trailed off. Seeing her had caused something inside of him to click in place that the Mirror of Erised and the Resurrection Stone could never have done. Photographs had not done her justice. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen but quite the opposite of the perfect witch that Sirius and Remus had always described. Beautiful yes, but hardly flawless. During the short time he had a chance to get a good look at her—before he burst into tears—he noticed that her hair was a bit of a mess, and though her eyes were green, just like this, they had little flecks of brown around the edges. She was real and not some perfect angelic creature like he had been led to believe thanks to stories.

James rolled his eyes. "Same bloody thing," he muttered under his breath before shouting, "I'm not questioning your skills, Lily, but Veritaserum isn't a guarantee."

Lily entered the room carrying a small phial of Truth Serum in one hand, and a mug of something else in the other, purple smoke rolling over the rim. "I know that, James," she said, tossing the small phial into her husband's open hand.

James fumbled, the tiny glass bottle bouncing off of his palm and up into the air, arcing across the room. Harry dove on instinct, reflexes as fast as they ever were, and caught the potion before it collided with the nearby bookshelf. He smiled, tossing the phial back to his father, who looked a perfect mixture of embarrassed and annoyed. That expression faded when Harry grinned and said, "I was made Seeker for Gryffindor my first year. Youngest Seeker in a century."

"Youngest Seeker in a century?" James asked, his cross expression fading just a touch. "You hear that, Lily? My son was the youngest Seekers in a century!"

Lily lifted a delicate eyebrow. "A man shows up at our door saying he's our son, and you start throwing hexes and making threats, but he tells you that he's a Quidditch prodigy and now he's telling the truth?" Before James could muster up a reply, Lily cut him off, yanking several hairs from his head.

"Ow!" James winced, setting the phial of Veritaserum down to rub at his scalp. "What was that for?"

Lily set the mug down on a nearby surface, pulling her wand from a Disillusioned spot behind her ear. When a clump of hair fell into her face, she irritably blew it out of her eyes. Cautious, she aimed the wand at Harry as she crossed the room.

Making an assumption, Harry tilted his head to the side and allowed her to yank several of his hairs out just as she had done with his father.

"I brewed a, well, I suppose it's a bit like a Paternity Potion," Lily said as she returned to the mug. "Paternity and Maternity, actually. I grabbed the Veritaserum, just in case." Pulling a long red strand from her own head, she worked over the mug, carefully adding the hairs. The smoke turned magenta and then crimson before flashing blue and then settling.

"Did you make that yourself?" James asked curiously. "What for?"

"I invented it when Sirius was dating that Selwyn girl. I wouldn't have put it past her to try and get pregnant to force his hand into marriage or money," Lily said, pinching up Harry's hair between her fingers and rolling it up into a small ball, adding it to the mug. "He claims he's a dab hand at Contraceptive Charms, so if that witch got pregnant, I was going to be ready to protect Sirius."

James nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flickering back and forth between the mug and Harry. "How come you just assume that Sirius is good at the charm because he says so, but you still insist on taking your potion even though I know how to cast the charm?"

Lily snorted and looked up at him incredulously. "Because proof of your inability to properly cast a Contraceptive Charm is currently sleeping upstairs." She paused and looked across the room, flippantly gesturing to Harry. "And also might be standing right there." Returning her attention to the mug, she gasped as the colour shifted back to purple.

"What?" James asked, moving quickly to her side. "What's that mean?"

Raising her gaze to Harry, green eyes met their almost identical mirror. Lily stared at him, her mouth falling open. "He's not lying," she whispered. "He's . . . Oh, Harry. It's really . . ."

Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, Harry's shoulders slumped forward, and tears sprung to his eyes once more. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just show up and throw your lives into more chaos. It was an accident, I swear it."

James was obviously shocked, but his wand was still held tight in hand even as Lily crossed the room again to throw her arms around Harry's neck, hugging him tightly. The wand was finally lowered when Harry buried his face in Lily's shoulder and let out a broken sob. Swallowing hard, James moved to take a step toward the pair when a loud cry from upstairs interrupted the moment.

Lily pulled back from Harry, her own eyes wet. She turned her head toward the staircase, looking confused. "Oh, I . . . I need to . . ."

"Go," Harry said, looking torn as he too glanced at the staircase where the cries of his younger self echoed down. Lily squeezed his hands, smiling, before quickly darting out of the room. Awkwardly, Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, sniffed, and then returned his gaze to James. "I know you might not still believe me, but—"

Cut off, Harry was shocked when his father crossed the room, enveloping him in a tight embrace. He held James tighter than he had with Lily. She was much smaller than he was, and Harry had been afraid of accidentally hurting her, not knowing how to control the eager child inside of him that was desperate to hug his mother for the first time in twenty years. James, however, was taller than Harry was, exuding a feel of strength and durability.

"You believe me," Harry said in relief as his father squeezed him.

Pulling back, James sniffed. He took Harry's face in his hands and let out a shaky exhale as he looked him over. "You have no idea," he said. "With this war, and . . . Merlin, I toss and turn every night worried that none of us will make it out alive. That you'll never get to grow up and . . . But look at you. You're all grown. You lived."

Harry frowned as he watched James's expression of relief give way to confusion as he looked over Harry's features, taking quick notice of the scar on his forehead. Pulling back, James glanced at the rest of his son for the first time really, since Harry had knocked on the door that morning. His clothes were filthy, torn, and some parts stained with blood. In addition to the mark on his forehead, there was an ugly scar that ran the length of one forearm, and plenty more that were hidden beneath clothing. Harry folded his arms to hide the blemish, immediately regretting having left his jacket somewhere back in 2000.

"It's not over," James said. "Is it?"

Harry shook his head. "We were . . . We had a plan, but something went wrong." He explained the situation about the linked Time-Turners, sitting down on the sofa beside his father. "The spell we'd planned to cast needed to be anchored in places where he'd been defeated in some way. It was supposed to provoke his magic into a panic or . . . I don't know. Hermione explains it better," he said with a sigh. "She was in a forest where one of our other friends destroyed one of his weapons. It felt like a safe place for her to be compared to the other options. Another one of us went to Hogwarts. He won the battle there, but it was also the place where one of his right hand Death Eaters betrayed him. I came here to Godric's Hollow because that's where Voldemort was first defeated. I still don't know how. He cast the Killing Curse at me, but something Mum did made it . . . bounce off me, and it hit him instead."

James looked horrified as a realisation hit him. "We died," he whispered after a long moment of silence. "Bloody hell, she's been reading up on Blood Magic and protective wards that parents can . . . But it takes a life sacrifice to activate." Leaning forward, James thrust his hands into his hair and squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Fuck. How do we—? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I mean, I want to know so that I can stop it from—"

"It's not going to happen," Harry said firmly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I'm going to kill him before he steps foot in this house."

"We're going to kill him," James corrected. "Lily and Harry, er . . . little Harry will be safe. Fuck, I need to send word to Sirius, Remus, and Peter. And Dumbledore! The Order needs to know about—"

"No!" Harry said, jumping to his feet, prepared to physically stop his father from doing exactly as he had said. "You can't tell Dumbledore. Not . . . yet. No one else in the Order can know about me and my friends being here from the future. Not yet. I need to find them first and make sure they're safe. I wasn't the one to bring us here. Godric's Hollow was deserted when I showed up in my time. I hadn't even reached the cottage before the Time-Turner activated. I was still in the cemetery—" He stopped speaking when James's eyes widened. "I mean . . . And then, suddenly, time shifted, and I was here in 1981. I honestly thought about Apparating to find my . . . but I had to knock. I waited all night deliberating whether I should, but I had to just . . . see."

"If you weren't the one to travel, then how did you know how far back you'd gone?" James asked.

Harry shrugged. "Didn't. But, well, there's a really big statue in Godric's Hollow where I'm from. It's been there for years. When I knew that time had shifted, I didn't see the statue. It was put up after you and Mum . . . I couldn't believe it was gone, so I had to just . . . hope that you were both here."

James stood and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, smiling. "I'm glad you're here. It's weird, though."

Harry laughed and nodded. "It's really weird."

"So, where are your friends? Which one do you think activated the Time-Turner?"

Frowning, Harry began pacing. "I don't know. We figured that the forest would be a good place for Hermione since she needed to set up the entire ritual on her end, and it was the least likely to be populated by anyone else. It's unlikely that she was the one who sent us back." He frowned, clenching his fists nervously as he pondered the variety of horrible outcomes that would have forced any of them to travel. "Which means that something bad happened at Hogwarts."

"What do you think it was?" Lily asked as she returned, hissing when her bare foot collided with a toy at the foot of the staircase that she had managed to avoid when going up. Jumping just a bit, her hands tightened protectively around the toddler in her arms.

Harry's mouth fell open in shock at the baby—at him! "Whoa," he muttered, swallowing down the incredibly displaced feeling that washed over him. Despite the fact that his parents were looking right at him, despite the fact that he could smell all the various scents in the house, and despite the fact that his father's hand was still on his shoulder, Harry felt as though he had been submerged into a Pensieve and was watching a memory. "That's . . . me."

Lily beamed, her eyes alight with happiness and curiosity. Harry had seen that look a thousand times in the eyes of his best friend. He could not help but wonder just how difficult it was for his mother to stifle the need to ask him thousands of questions. Thankfully, his younger self tugged on a lock of her hair, sending the expression on her face swiftly away. Sighing, she shifted him to one arm, balancing him on her hip as she used her free hand to pry his tiny fingers open. "We've talked about this. Don't pull Mummy's hair. It's not nice."

Awkward, Harry cleared his throat and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "Should I, I don't know, apologise for that?"

Lily laughed sweetly, moving the freed lock of hair behind her ear. When the child in her gentle grip looked up, making eye contact with Harry, he froze. Lily took immediate notice. Trying to break the sudden tension, she shifted little Harry again and asked, "Do you want to hold . . . umm . . . him?"

Harry immediately shook his head. "No. I mean . . . That's weird, right? It would be weird. And I'm not good with babies? It's weird. That's me. But it's not. I'm here. Not there."

Snorting, Lily crossed the room, her smile widening a bit when Harry flinched as the younger version of himself reached a hand out to grasp at his shirt. Unable to stop himself, Harry looked down at the child's forehead, putting a great deal of focus into the unfamiliar empty space on his forehead. "Wow," he whispered softly to himself, using a finger to push back the black fringe on the toddler's face to get a better look. "This is surreal. I thought that I'd feel something, I dunno, magical? Like I'd feel something from his side. I know that's mental."

The Potter family stood silent for several minutes, watching as the child investigated a bad stitching on Harry's t-shirt. Bored, the boy struggled in Lily's grip until she set him down on the floor to scamper off to a toy chest in the corner of the room. Harry's gaze followed after him, looking as though he were terrified of the child falling over. He relaxed his posture when Lily placed her hand on his arm.

Attention drawn to his mother, Harry noticed just how young she was. She had always been young, really, considering she died at this age; the only photographs he had of his family had been during this time of their lives. He knew they were his parents, and he had always associated them as being older than he was. They were Sirius and Remus's age, for Merlin's sake. It was too real to see them here, in the middle of a war with a child, so young and yet months away from their death. Despite being of similar age himself, Harry felt a sudden sympathy for Mrs Weasley: James and Lily Potter were too young to fight in a war.

"I'll keep you all safe," he quietly promised. "He'll get to grow up . . . normal. I swear on my magic." Before either had a chance to say anything in reply, he added, "And thank you. For . . . trusting me. I know it probably takes a lot. I didn't expect to be welcomed like this."

Frowning at the expression on his face, Lily cast a look in James's direction as though silently demanding that he fix their son. He was sad, and she would not stand for such things. "Magic proved who you are. You're our son, as odd as that is considering the situation. Family is everything to us, Harry."

James nodded. "There's nothing in the world more important."

Harry tried to swallow down the building emotions that their acceptance and trust gave him—things he had never expected to have in this life—but the knot in his throat refused to move, forcing him to choke out a small sob. The noise gone, he took in a ragged breath, smiling when he felt his father squeeze his shoulder and his mother take his hand in both of hers.

The moment was finally interrupted when a bright flash of silver flew in through the window. James reacted impulsively, drawing his wand at the movement and shoving both Lily and Harry behind him toward the corner where little Harry was quietly playing with a stuffed dragon.

"It's a Patronus," Lily said reproachfully, flicking the back of James's ear. "I'm brewing you a Calming Draught."

"Constant vigilance," James said, lowering his wand and rubbing at his ear.

Harry was upset that James had so willingly put himself in what he thought might have been danger, all to protect his family—Harry included. He briefly thought about restraining both of his parents and putting them inside a Gringotts vault for the duration of the war. Depending on how Sirius reacted when meeting him, he might be able to get his godfather's assistance. Harry had been too distracted, that he failed to immediately look at the shape of the Patronus.

The spectral creature perched on the edge of a nearby table, looked Harry right in the eyes, and opened its mouth. "Safe."

Harry let out a loud sigh of relief, feeling a tightness in his chest that he had not realised was there finally let go. "Thank Merlin," he whispered as the Patronus faded away.

The corner of Lily's mouth turned up. "Patronuses can speak? What spell is that?" she asked excitedly.

Harry drew his wand, swirling it as he cast, "Expecto Patronum!" As it had since his third year at Hogwarts, the massive stag made its way out of Harry's wand, shaking its head and craning its neck as though it had been stored in the wand and needed a good stretch. At the sight of the Patronus, James's eyes widened, looking very much like a child come Christmas morning.

"It's beautiful," Lily whispered. When the stag seemed to regard her, having heard the words, her smile widened. "That's right. You're beautiful."

"How come you never say that to me?" James teased.

She laughed. "Because when you look like this, you smell wretched."

"Safe," Harry said to the Patronus, swirling his wand twice in a circle before flicking it toward the window. The stag nodded its head and darted through the same window that the earlier Patronus had arrived through. "I can teach you the exact movements later. My friends and I came up with this system to communicate. The Patronus will only come near them if they're alone or sense from the recipient that it's safe. That way it keeps their cover if they're in hiding and prevents enemies from possibly using our messages. When all three of us get a confirmation of safety, whoever set the Time-Turner off will send a follow-up message."

"And was that . . ." Lily paused, trying to remember. "Hermione? The voice sounded male, but I didn't want to assume that Patronuses didn't have their own voice."

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione's Patronus is an otter."

"That was a weasel," James pointed out. "Doesn't Arthur Weasley have a weasel Patronus, Lils?" At her nod of confirmation, he asked, "Is your other friend a Weasley?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm friends with the Weasleys, yes. Except . . . that wasn't a weasel."

Brow arched, James asked, "Then what was it?"

Harry sighed. "A ferret."