Hello m'dears. Can you believe it's been a year?

The second Hermione vanished Harry fell back into his bean bag chair exhausted. She wanted him to think about living? But how could he when every thought towards that subject felt like driving nails into his eye sockets? It was impossible! But, Hermione had said that- No! The Hermione he had talked to hadn't known about Dumbledore's death, or Dobby's, or Hedwig's, or Lupin's, or Tonk's, or Fred's, or Colin Creevy's for Pete's sake! Innocent little Colin Creevy who never hurt anyone! How many deaths had Harry caused? How many?

Harry? said a familiar voice. Harry, what did I tell you?

What? Who are you? Sirius? thought Harry. Am I going crazy?

We're all mad here, replied the voice.

Now Harry knew it was his godfather, or perhaps it was the boy who would become his godfather. It was hard to tell. But How? Why can I hear you?

Surely Harry you can guess? when Harry couldn't Sirius went on. All those years ago when I was young and handsome, I told you something, Harry. I told you not to blame yourself.

How can I not? thought Harry. It was my fault! but as soon as he said, or rather 'thought' it, he remembered something Hermione said. Something about 'choice'. He wondered how many of those people had 'chosen' to fight, to die, for him. It made him sick to think about.

Harry! Why must the fault always lie with you? Sirius felt his ghostly presence slipping. Listen Harry. Really listen to me-

I'm done listening, Sirius Harry thought. Now I just need to think.

Harry! Sirius understood what Harry needed, even if he didn't like it. Harry... If you won't listen to me, then listen to- but his voice became hollow and tiny and faded away, leaving Harry confused and frustrated.

It was just then that he realized that the eyes of his father had been fixed on him for quite some time. Harry didn't like the look in Prong's eyes. It was as if he had seen something he didn't want to see. If Harry was in a pun making mood he would have said that Prongs looked like a deer in the head lights. But one has to be in a particular mindset for puns and neither Harry nor Prongs was there.

Prongs had been coping with the whole situation very well. Being plopped down in a small room with no memory of how he got there? Okay. Meeting his future son and grandson? Cool! His best friend pops up out of no where? Absolutely amazing! Prongs could roll with the punches better than most. But there was one thing that had been bothering him. Well, it had started as one thing, and now it had bloomed into an ever-growing spiral of worry. Why did Harry, his own son, think that he was dead? Prongs had collected clues along the way. He knew Voldemort was somehow involved. But somehow... it didn't make sense. Fighting Voldemort... Harry was only seventeen! How horrible would the world have to be for seventeen-year-olds to be fighting mass murderers? Prongs didn't know what to make of it. And then there was James... How could a dead teenager have a son born six years after he claimed to die? And it bothered him that the fact that his 'son' claimed to be dead wasn't the thing that bothered him the most.

Harry saw Prongs's eyes focus, as if he was coming out of his thoughts.

"I'm not around in the future, am I?" asked Prongs.

The room went silent. It was a heavy silence. James, who had been thinking about chicken nuggets, hadn't noticed either of the other boys angst. Now James realized that he probably had the clearest head of the three of them. "What do you mean?" he asked. He wanted to know how much Prongs knew, and if it was even feasible to lie to him.

"I mean," said Prongs, "I get the sense that I'm not going to be present for my son's childhood."

"How do you figure?" said James. Unlike the identity of Harry's mum, Prongs's death wasn't something to joke about.

Prongs squeezed his eyes shut. "How do I die?"

"Protecting me and Mum," said Harry softly. Prongs was the first blot on Harry's soul. The first innocent death that Harry caused.

Prongs nodded. At least Harry had his mother. Lilly would be a wonderful mother, he was certain. "How old were you?"

"A year old," said Harry.

"So you don't know me at all," said Prongs with a long exhale. "You only know what Lilly tells you".

Harry winced.

"No!" yelled Prongs. "Not Lilly too!". Prongs reacted more violently to this than he did to the news of his own death. "no".

James looked at his father. "You might as well tell him the rest. The good parts of the story, as well as the bad".

"There are good parts to this?" said Prongs with a broken voice.

"Yes," said James. "A very good part. My dad survived. He survived the killing curse and he goes on to save the wizarding world, and if that's not a good part then I don't know what is!"

"The killing curse?" said Prongs in disbelief. "You mean this was deatheaters?"

"No. Voldemort," said James with pride. "He could't kill my dad no matter how hard he tried!"

"Only because so many others died protecting me!" said Harry. "Him! My mum! Cedric! Sirius! Dumbledore! Snape! Dobby! How many more? How much blood is on my hands? I'm not worth it, no matter what Hermione says!"

Prongs took him by the shoulders. "Stop. Just stop. Harry-" here his voice faltered slightly, "Harry. You're worth dying for. I'm you're dad. Its my job. Your mum? If she was here I'm betting she would say the exact same thing. Sirius too. I bet all of them would."

"But-"

"No buts, son. If these moments are the only moments we get, listen to me. If you keep on like this you're making mine and Lilly's sacrifice worth nothing. We wouldn't want you to blame yourself! You've got to realize that we died for you because you are worth it. C'mon Harry! Do you really think we would die for you if we weren't?"

Harry finally broke. And Prongs for the first time held his son. And James went to make lunch, because he was practical like that. Also he thought that maybe, just maybe, Prongs and Harry might want some privacy.

When James came back Harry was telling Prongs about some glorious childhood escapade that James had to hear the beginning of, so Harry began again. He wove a tail involving Draco Malfoy, an enchanted tea cup, and Neville's constantly missing toad. Even though Prongs had already heard half of it he drank it in like a dying man. After Harry finished the first story Prongs asked for another and another, and when James left to take the Chicken Nuggets out of the oven they didn't even notice he was gone, until he came back with three plates of pipping hot chickeny goodness.

As they were eating a tall skinny blond boy fell into the was absolutely horrified. His eyes swiveled back and forth trying to comprehend, but he couldn't so he just said, "Oh, god. There's three of them".

Look! It's Scourpius!

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