And, to make up for the long wait between chapters ….. a super long chapter! Or, well, super long for me. I write with a much smaller font than uses, (8 pt) and for me the chapter is over 4 pages long, so it should be enough to tide y'all over until the next chappie :-) Maybe? Enjoy! And remember to feed the author!
Also, I feel that I should mention something at this point. I am American. Not English. And therefore, I'm probably making some pretty large cultural errors. Do they even have grilled cheese sandwiches in Britian? Or use words such as "kiddo"? I don't know, and I'm not really sure how to find out. And since I don't even have a beta reader at this point, I don't see that changing any time soon. However, if anybody notices any glaring mossions or errors, please feel free to point them out in a review! I'd very much appreciate it :)
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Harry had been asleep for barely an hour before he jerked awake, hand flying to his scar more out of habit than anything else. There was no pain, lingering or otherwise, but he still clutched at it as if it were burning with pain.
It should have been. There should have been blood, he should have been screaming in pain. After a vision like that …
He felt as he always did after a vision, except for the loss of the ever-present pain. The usual splitting head-ache was right there in the back of his temple, just like always. But the stinging, pounding pain that caused him to sob in desperation was gone.
A vision. That was what he had just had, wasn't it? A vision of Voldemort laying his plan out so clearly for Harry to see. Another world, filled with people Voldemort had supposedly killed. A world where his parents had lived, unaware of what was happeneing, of what they had been stipped of.
That meant that the people sleeping just down the hall from him were really his parents. That they weren't lying, that they were really hurting for him, with him. Because of him. Not that hurting the people he cared about the most was anything new to him. But it still hurt.
But something held him back from jumping up to stop yet another scheme of Voldemort.
He didn't believe it.
Harry folled over on to his side, staring blankly at the opposite wall. He had his proof - at least as much proof as he had ever needed before. So what was holding him back now? What held his anger in check, what made him think twice where before he had run headlong into danger with nary a second thought?
It felt wrong. Wrong to have this vision, that explained everything so clearly. It was too convenient, to have everyting laid out for him just the way he had wanted. That was it, wasn't it? This was what he'd been hoping for, what he'd been praying for. An explanation, a way to have both worlds and be happy. And he'd gotten it.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Harry squeezed his eyes tightly closed as those first seeds of doubt blossomed into a full blown flower.
What if this was real? What if they were right?
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He slept fitfully that night, and awoke to find the sun already high in the sky.
It had been a long time since he'd slept in so late - at Hogwarts he had to up early for breakfast, and at the hospital the curtains were usually closed until around noontime, so he was never sure when he woke up. He could have gotten up and found a nurse to tell him the time, but it hadn't really been worth the effort.
Harry rolled out of the bed, stumbling to his feet and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He knew James had come in at some point last night, but he had steadfastly ignored the man as he pulled the covers more securely over his body and smoothed his ever-unruly hair back from his face.
There were no sounds coming from downstairs, but Harry admitted to himself with a sigh that the likelihood they had left him alone in the house was pretty slim. They had been hovering far too much recently to ever do something like that.
Leaning heavily against the desk next to his bed until his legs could regain their strength, Harry breathed a soft sigh as he finially pushed himself away from the comforting feel of something under his grip, starting on still-shaky legs toward the semi-open door that led out into the hall. Of course, getting down those stairs was going to be interesting.
He hugged the wall until he got to the stairs, and then it was the railing of the stairs that he clung to as if his life depended on it. He made it halfway down the stairs - that he was positive were getting longer just to spite he him, he was sure of it! -- before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. He continued on anyway, his feet just touching the landing as James came crashing down the stairs after him, hands going under his arm pits as he was pushed against the opposite wall.
James looked him over frantically, chocolate brown eyes searching his body for any bumps and bruises, before he finally loosened his grip with a sigh. "Harry, you can't walk around like this! It isn't good for your legs."
Harry winced slightly at the volume of the man's voice, before shrugging his shoulders, glancing down and away from James. "I got hungry." He muttered softly, still not looking at the man as he splayed his left hand along the wall behind himself, scratching lightly at the surface of the wallpaper.
"Look, Harry, I know this is hard for you. I know. But your still to weak to be moving around like this on your own. You could end up hurting yourself pretty bad, okay?" James pulled away from his son, rubbing a hand over his face as he turned to stare down the hallway, not really seeing anything at all. "How about this - we turn my office into a bedroom for you?" He turned back his son with a slight smile. "I'll have to run it past Lily, but…"
Harry nodded, finially raising his eyes to meet those of the older man. "Can I get something to eat now?"
James laughed outright at that, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, sure. C'mon, I think we've still got some cereal somewhere. Lils is supposed to go shopping either today or tomorrow."
Harry nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. He offered no argument when James took his arm, helping him to the kitchen, however.
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Lily came downstairs some time later, as Harry was just finishing his scrambled eggs and bacon. She smiled warmly ar him, before moving over to give James a kiss on the cheek from where he was doing the dishes in the sink. He'd actually had to give Harry a paper plate, since nearly all of the dishes were so dirty. With all of their other plans and preparations for Harry's homecoming, somehow the dishes had simply been overlooked.
James grinned sheepishly at her, before turning back to his work with a relish. Lily smiled, shaking her head, before joining Harry at the table, leaning forward slightly and folding her arms on the table, resting her head on them. "How long have you two been awake?"
"About an hour." James answered before Harry could even open his mouth, wiping his hands on a nearby dish towel. "How about some coffee?"
"Coffee would be wonderful." Lily smiled at her husband, before turning her eyes toward her step-son once again. "A nurse is going to be coming by around noon, but other than that, the entire day is free. Is there anything you'd like to do?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders in what was quickly becoming his answer to everything, picking idly at his food with his fork. James had mixed some cheese in with his eggs, and while tasty, he just couldn't stomach it. The doctors had said that this was completely normal, and his stomach needed time to get used to solid foods again. All that he knew, was that eating made him sich. That, and it was bloody annoying.
"Well, we could cook something, or maybe watch something on the telly. Or you could come outside with me while I work in the garden. "
Harry was looking at her in interest now, and Lily smiled back at him. "Could we go outside?"
"Of course we can!" Lily glanced up, smiling at James in thanks as she accepted her coffee. "I've got a pretty big garden out back - you used to love running underfoot while I worked in it during the summer. " Lily smiled at the memory, taking a tentative sip from her coffee.
Harry nodded, glancing down at the table with a faraway look in his eyes. While he had never been allowed to actually tend to Aunt Petunia's precious vegetables or flowers, he had often been set to the task of weeding the edge of the garden - though punishment was severe if he pulled up the wrong type of root. He'd always enjoyed it, though, getting down on his knees in the dirt and actually doing something productive, rather than just sweeping floors or cutting the grass. It was certaintly better than cleaning the bathroom.
"Well, I'd better get dressed if we're going to spend the morning outside. James, why don't you grab Harry some of your old jeans? We'll have to go shopping for him soon." James merely rolled his eyes at that statement, causing Lily to swat him on the arm playfully.
James had to root around in the attic before he found a pair of jeans small enough that they didn't just fall of Harry's small frame the mo ment he moved. By the time he had convinced James that he could dress himself and had finially gotten someo privacy, Lily was already out in the hall, running a brush through her long red hair.
James closed the door behind himself, heaving a small sigh and smiling at his wife. He leaned against the wall beside his son's room with a sigh, head resting against the imitation wood as he stared off into space. Lily kissed him gently on the cheek, shaking her head slightly as she moved down the hallway to the bathroom.
Inside his bedroom, Harry ran his fingers through his messy black hair, before pulling on an oversized t-shirt and finially letting himself practically collapse back on to the bed. How could just getting dressed take so much energy?! He felt like he had just run a marathon! And all he'd done was put on a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Glancing at the shoes lined up along the end of his bed, he gave a heartfelt sigh before bending down with a grunt to pick them up. Unlike the rest of his clothes, these actually fit, and he tied them quickly, hands shaking slightly before forcing himself across the room and out the door.
James was there waiting for him, a smile on his face that looked somewhat forced. Harry returned it, even though he knew it came out looking more like a grimace than anything else.
"You ready, Harry?" Harry nodded, smiling slightly as Lily practically ran down the hallway to him. She liked her right arm through his left, starting toward the stairs. With one person on either side of him, they started down the stairs and out the door.
The sun felt nice, Harry reflected some time later. Lily was down on her hands and knees, tending to her flowers as James worked in the vegetable garden further along the way. He himself had dozed off once or twice since coming outside, but always jerked awake with no memory of any dreams.
The sun was high in the sky now, and Harry couldn't have guessed the time if somebody had asked him. Which was strange, because he had always been able to guess how close it was to lunch time when working on his chores outside before. No matter, though. He wasn't even remotely hungry, and was actually quite comfortable.
Lily had brought out a blanket at some point, and he was now bundled up in it. While the sun was beating down full force and James and Lily were moving around in shorts and t-shirts, he was still freezing cold. He couldn't seem to stay warm, either - he was constantly bringing the blanket closer, wrapping himself more securely in it's warmth as shiveres racked his body.
He should have been trying to escape. He should have been fighting them, not enjoying their company and their backyard. They had to be working for Voldemort - who else would come up with something this crazy? James and Lily Potter were dead, it was as simple as that. And these people were insane if they thought he'd buy their story.
But at the same time, everything they said, everything they did made sense. They didn''t lie to him, didn't use destiny as a convenient excuse for their actions, the way that Professor Dumbledore did. Hell, the only reason that Voldemort had ever wanted to kill him was because of his damned destiny!
But these people - they never once mentioned destiny, or prophecy. In fact, they claimed magic didn't even exist. Certaintly not something he would expect from a follower of Voldemort, and most definitely not something Voldemort himself would ever say. After all, this entire war was based on whether or not muggles and muggle-borns had the right to even exist.
And yet, here were these people, apparently muggles, so close in appearance to his own parents. There were differences from the pictures he had seen, but those pictures were over a decade old, so there were bound to be changes over the years.
But he didn't want to believe. That was it, wasn't it? That was the core of all of this. It wasn't whether or not they were being truthful, although if they weren't then he was in serious danger. But a large part of him didn't want them to be telling the truth. Because if they were, then his entire life was a lie.
His friends, his school, his knowledge …. All of it was a lie, if they were telling the truth. None of it had even been real, just some fantasy his injured mind had come up with to keep him satisfied, trapped within his own mind.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Harry glanced away from the garden, over to the fence that separated them from the neighbors. It was a nice fence, painted white and raising high up. Nice, just like everything else here. The garden, the house, the pool over to the other side. He wouldn't mind going for a dip in there when he was feeling better …
There was somebody looking at him through the fence. Harry frowned, green eyes meeting blue as the two boys stared at each other. It was a boy, slightly younger than him, blue eyes and bright red hair.
Red hair just like Ron's.
Harry swallowed, throat suddenly tight as he glanced away from the fance, focusing on James and Lily as they worked on the garden.
Ron and Hermione. He hadn't given much thought to them before now. He hadn't really thought about what this would mean for them - for the people he knew. The Weasleys, hell, even Malfoy. Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Hermione …. Had he simply made them all up? Were they just figments of his imagination?
He must have one hell of an imagination!
Harry burrowed deeper into his blanket, glancing at the fence from the corner of his eye. The boy was still there, staring intently at him.
"James?" Harry called out, raising his head slightly as he called out to the man. Lily was the one who answerd, however, abandoning her gardening to walk over to him. "Do you want to go in, Harry?"
Harry nodded, motioning with his hand toward the fence with a frown. Lily followed the motion of his hand, smiling as the boy disappeared from the fance with a yelp.
"Ron." She said softly. Harry head jerked up at that, and she smiled at his look of surprise. "Ron Weasley. They live next door."
Harry nodded, eyes straying once again over to the fence as he frowned. Was that where he had gotten the name, the flaming red hair? Perhaps even the personality of his best friend? Was it all based on some kid who had lived next door to him?
"You two used to play sometimes, when you were younger. He's a couple of years younger than you." Lily smiled down at him, rubbing her hand against the back of his head as she helped him up, still bundled up in the blankets. "Still cold?"
Harry nodded, glancing away from the fence finially as they stepped inside. James waved from the garden, before continuing to pull at the weeds with a vengeance. He, too, was soon out of sight as the moved further into the house, Harry practically collapsing on to the couch as Lily disappeared into the kitchen. She soon reappeared with a glass of juice and a couple small pills.
"Doctors orders." She said, smiling apologetically as she handed them to him. Harry made a face, but took them anyway, sipping at the juice experimentally before he downed all three pills in one go.
Lily blinked in surprise at that, shaking her head before taking the glass back. "You are most definitely your father's son." She said, lips twisting into another one of those half smiles Harry had seen her use so much on James.
He flashed her a grin for the comment, before slipping down to lay his head on the head rest, legs curled behind himself so that they were touching against his butt. Lily disappeared into the kitchen once again, calling out once she was inside. "What do you want for lunch?"
"I'm not really hungry." Harry called back, closing his eyes tiredly.
Lily glanced up at the ceiling of the kitchen, giving a heartfelt sigh before heading back to the sitting room with a determined look on her eyes. She leaned over the back of the couch, staring at her step-son. When he didn't respond to her approach, she cleared her throat loudly, causing the dark-haired youth to jump in surprise. "You need to eat, Harry."
Harry shrugged, turning his head so that he could look at her without getting up. "I'm still stuffed from breakfast." He said softly, face scrunching up as he held back a yawn.
"How about some soup, then? And some grilled cheese sandwiches?" When Harry nodded reluctantly, she smile brightly at him, causing a small smile to break out over his face.
She was just finishing the sandwiches and had put the soup in the microwave to cook when James came in from outside, running his fingers through his messy black hair, made even messier from the wind she could hear rushing against the house. "What'cha cooking?"
"Nothing for you, nosey. Harry wasn't very hungry, so it's soup and sandwiches for lunch. I'll make something for us in a bit."
"I could help." James said with a smile, at which Lily backed away from him, holding the spatula up in a defensive posture.
"You come near my kitchen, James Potter, and I will teach you just why a woman is dangerous." She narrowed her eyes, edging around him to get to the stove.
"Oh, come on, Lils. I'm not that bad of a cook."
Lily glanced over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. "Not that bad of a cook? James, you almost burnt the house down last time. Remember? Birthday cake? Screaming like a little girl?"
"Yes, well, I can't help how you scream, Mrs. Potter. I, howeve - eek!" James jumped up from the table as Lily advanced toward him, the now sticky spatula raised in a threatening manner. He escaped into the sitting room, collapsing onto a chair near his son. "She's crazy Harry, I swear."
Harry grinned at him, head raised from the arm rest of the couch as he watched the older man settle himself into the chair. He had been listening to them through the open doorway, and now couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face as hard as he tried.
They sounded in love, didn't they? Not like his aunt and uncle, who never touched or kissed aside from the normal one when Vernon would leave for work in the morning. James and Lily - they really acted like they were in love, like they wanted to be together. It was …. Nice.
He settled his head back down on the couch, watching as James flipped through a magazine until Lily came out, helping him to sit up and leading him toward the kitchen.
He hated this. Hated how much the sight of food made his stomach do little flips, as if considering mutiny. Hated how much his legs hurt, how tired he was all the time. All he had done was sit in a chair in the back yard, for crying out loud!
"Things will get better, Harry." Lily commented as he tucked in to the meal, blowing slightly on the chicken soup to cool it before taking a sip. When he glanced quizzicly at her, she continued. "Your tiredness. Your legs. The doctor warned us it would be like this in the beginning. He was kind of against us taking you home, really. We promised we'd get you into the pool, though. To work your legs." Maybe we could do that tomorrow?"
Harry perked up at that, raising his head to stare at her in surprise. "I could go swimming?"
Lily smiled at that, nodding her head. "Yes, of course. We got the pool for you. Remember?"
Harry ducked his head, more intent on his soup now than before as Lily sighed softly, glancing up to meet James' eyes. He simply shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.
After a short nap on the couch, Harry busied himself with watching the telly as James and Lily retreated into James' study to talk. Most of the programmes were either boring, or he didn't understand, and he finially settled on some cartoons. They were different from what he remembered catching glimpses of as a child, drawn better and with far better storylines - almost sitcoms, they were so involved. It didn't take long for him to get into them, so much so that he didn't even noticed when James joined him on the couch.
"Lils gave the okay to move you downstairs, so were gonna start moving your stuff down today, okay?" Harry nodded, turning his head slightly so that he could see the man easier.
"Can I help?"
James hesitated slightly, worrying his bottom lip. "Why don't you just watch your cartoons? I don't think your up to lifting anything." Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the telly as James left the room.
He didn't know how to act around him. Lily was actually easier than James, perhaps because she acted so much like he remembered Mrs. Weasley acting around Ron and Ginny, and to a smaller extent him.
But James … James was different. James was a guy, first of all, and wouldn't be happy just cooking him lunch or setting him up to sleep. He wanted to talk, wanted to do things. And he hovered. Oh, did he hover. Always there, always trying to do things for him. Hell, the man had wanted to help him get dressed this morning. If that wasn't a sign of impending doom, Harry wasn't sure what was.
And feeling like a helpless child didn't make matters any better. He was incapable of doing anything other than sleeping and watching the telly, at this point. Maybe swimming tomorrow would help, but then again, maybe not. He couldn't imagine this pain in his legs ever going away.
Closing his eyes, Harry gave a heartfelt sigh before turning the telly off and rolling over so that he was facing the back of the couch as he wrapped his arms around his middle.
Lily sat down on her step-son's bed, eyes downcast as she stared at the floor. They had moved most of his furniture downstairs, and now needed to start on the smaller things. Some tings they wouldn't even bother moving down, but would just go into storage - younger books that he wouldn't be interested in reading anymore, for one.
James settled down on the bed beside her, rubbing a hand across her back and smiling slightly. It didn't reach his eyes, however, and he quickly glanced away to stare sightlessly out the bedroom door.
"I just wish that he would remember something!" Lily ground her teeth goeather tightly, standing up suddenly to pace across the room to the window. James smiled sadly, letting out a sigh as he stood to his feet.
"It's gonna take time, Lils. And Patience. I think the second is gonna be what does me in ..."
His comment got the expected laugh, and Lily turned back toward him with a genuine smile. "James, your insane."
James grinned, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before turning back toward the room and rubbing his hands togeather. Lily followed his lead, still shaking her head.
Harry awoke some time later to somebody shaking his shoulder. He jerked awake, turning an expecting to find James or Lily. Instead, he found himself staring face to face at a ghost.
Eyes wide, Harry stared at him for all of two seconds before he jumped slightly, throwing his arms around the man's neck and holding on for dear life. "Sirius!"
Sirius Black blinked, frowning as he tried to figure out just what was going on. Why was Jamesie-boy hugging him? "James? Is everything ... okay?"
A small laugh could be heard behind him, and that just made Sirius frown even more. "I don't think that's James, Sirius." Remus Lupin grinned at his childhood friend turned roommate, watching as Sirius pulled the younger boy from his grasp.
"Harry?" Sirius ran the fingers of his left hand through his godson's yet black hair, marvelling yet again at how much James and Harry looked alike. He hadn't visitied the boy much after his coma, mostly because it just hurt too much to see the normally lively boy sick and pale like that, with apparently no inclination to live his life. Too content to live in his fantasy world. And it had always shocked him, when he did go and see the boy, just how much he looked like his father, more and more every day.
Harry couldn't help grinning like an idiot, throwing his arms once again around his godfather. He knew, logically, that if James and Lily didn't remember Hogwarts and the magical world, that Sirius wouldn't either. He probably had just as many memories and stories about the life he had supposedly lead here as James did. And Professor Lupin ...
Harry stared at him over Sirius' shoulder, eyes widening slightly at how bad the man looked. His hair was combed, and his clothes relatively new, but other than that, he looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot and red, his face thin and haggard, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. One hand was supporting him against the side of the couch, and the other was settled on his left hip. Even then, Harry could see how much that other hand was shaking, and he could only imagine what the other man would be like if he didn't have that support.
Pulling away from his godfather, Harry continued to stare at his former professor, eyes narrwing slightly as he brought them up to meet Remus'. "What ..." His voice trailed off, head cocked slightly to the side.
Remus laughed softly, although there was no humor in it. "I look pretty bad, don't I?" He shook his head, throwing a glance over at Sirius. "Siri tries, and so does that infernal woman he hired. But I know I must look a mess to you, Harry. Where are your parents?"
Harry hesitated slightly, before twisting slightly and pointing in the direction they had gone. Remus followed the line of his finger first with his eyes, and then with his body, careful to support himself against something as long as he could.
Sirius watched him go, worrying on his lower lip, before he finally turned his attention back to his godson. "How are you feeling, buddy? Your dad conviently forgot to mention that you were coming home, or we would have brought a bit more than just ourselves." Sirius settled himself down on the couch next to his godson, moving his left hand to the back of the boy's head and playing with the strands of messy black hair he found there.
Harry smiled, although it was not as exuberant as his earlier reaction. "What's wrong with Remus?"
Sirius sighed, pulling away from the younger boy and setting back against the couch, both of his hands going behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before focusing back on his godson. "He's pretty sick, Har. Has been for a long time. Jamesie told me you don't really remember much, but ... we don't like to mention it around him. Try to make him feel like he's normal, you know? Like he can lead a normal life."
"Harry nodded, ducking his head. "Sorry." He muttered, a blush creeping up his neck. "I didn't know."
Sirius merely laughed at that, ruffling his godson's already tousled black hair. "No worries kiddo. You want something to drink? I'm gonna grab a beer."
Harry nodded, relaxing back against the couch once against and watching Sirius until the older man was no longer in his line of sight.
Sirius returned a moment later, handing Harry a glass of juice and taking his own beer to an armchair to the right of the couch, watchng as Harry sat up straighter to take a sip from his drink before carefully setting it on the floor and curling back up on the couch.
They sat like that for a few minutes in comfortable silence, eachlost within his own thoughts, until Sirius finially broke the silence. "Was I there?"
Harry glanced up in confusion, head cocked slightly to the side so that only the edge of his head touched the couch beneath him. He had some idea what Sirius was asking, but he'd rather the man elaborate.
"In your fantasy world, Harry. Was I there?"
Harry nodded, glancing absently at the floor, as if his glass of juice was the most interesting thing in the world. "James and Lily were dead, and I didn't know you until a couple of years ago. You had been .. framed .. for their murder." He glanced back up at his godfather, smiling slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"A convicted felon? Wow. Glad to see you think so highly of me." A short laugh followed those words, along with a grin to soften their blow. Harry gave a small smile, but otherwise made no reaction to his godfather's words, still staring down at the floor with a lost look on his face.
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Not the best ending place in the world, I know. But ... my muse is leaving me. Again. Plus, I'm sick. Does that count as an excuse? Meh. Hope y'all enjoy, and don't forget to feed the author! Also, a quick apology -- I currently have no beta reader -- they always seem to dissappear on me! And therefore, I'm sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors you might find through out the story. I do try to go through it before submitting it to the site, but ... sometimes I just miss stuff. Plus, like I said, sick. So I'm obviously missing more than usual.