Sitting On The Baby By HPOD sufferer

Date: Saturday, 9th September, 7:11PM

Rating: K+ (Scary and Supernatural themes may scare young children), sexual implications (very minor)

Summary: Sirius bounded into the compartment, making to sink into the seat next to Lily. The seat in which a sleeping baby...well, slept. Eyes popping, James grabbed his friend's wrists, stopping him from sitting. Sirius Black was frozen in a strange, half-sitting, half-standing position. Lily grabbed the baby quickly, and James released his friend. "You know," said Lily " Baby sitting doesn't usually consist of actually sitting on the baby."

A baby has appeared. Where from? Why? Who does the baby belong to? Harry travels to Marauder Era. AS A BABY! Something went seriously wrong on that Halloween night.

Chapter 27: The Hidden Room

In the furthest corner of my mind

Is a place that's safe that nobody can find

And it's in this room that I recover from my ordeal

Plotting and planning, preparing for the world that's real.

And it's in this room that I long to break free

So I can return to all who love me

But I can't go until I'm ready, until I believe

That even though this room is safe, I really want ot leave

Because there are things worth living for

And I'll see them when I go beyond the door.

James was warm. James was safe. Nobody could hurt James.

Who was James?

James didn't know. Wait, he was James.

No he wasn't. He was safe. And warm. And James.

Yes, he thought, I am James.

So?

Well, he didn't know! All he knew was that he was safe and that was all he wanted. Why would he want anything else?

"James, come back."

Back- but where? Who was James?

"James, it's safe."

He knew that. Who was the silly person telling him that?

"James, wake up!"

Wake? Up? Wasn't he already awake? Yes, of course he was awake! How could he be safe and warm and... here, if he weren't awake. Where was he? Well, it didn't matter. He was safe, awake, and very happy about it all.

Wasn't he?

Well, thought James huffily, it didn't matter as long as he was safe.

No, said a tiny voice in the back of his head, why are you, James Potter, shying away from danger? Danger is fun- it makes you feel alive... more alive than you've ever felt before. You laugh in the face of danger!

Did he really? Should he believe the voice?

Yes, said the voice, getting louder. What is life without danger, and the fun that comes with it? Sure, life is not perfect. But what would the point be in paradise if there were no bad things in life?

This place was extremely nice and safe. Was it paradise? Panicking slightly, James asked the voice it he were dead.

Maybe.

It didn't matter, he told himself. Who cared? Not him- he was safe! That's all he wanted! Was somewhere safe where nothing could hurt him!

"James, we miss you."

Who was saying that? Who missed him?

The voice came back, a whisper in his ear, soft and lost. "Come back James, come back to me... don't leave me when I've just fallen in love with you! Well, I think I have-" a tinkling laugh "-but you're being such a mean prat at the moment-oh-" a sob "-come back, James. Nothing's the same without you. I need you."

Who needed James? Who missed him? Who was that distant voice who was crying as if he were dead, asking him to come back and wake up even though he was?!

Lily, said the tiny voice. All the good things in life- but Lily. The girl. And she loves you. Lily.

Lily! Suddenly James wanted to go, from where ever he was, back to where ever she was. James wanted to be with Lily! Was she ok? Was she hurt- Where was he? How did he get back? He needed to get back to Lily!

His eyes flew open, seeing a pair of bright green eyes directly in front of him. "Lily!" he gasped, and the eyes moved back. The person's face came into focus, and James gasped. It was- it was one of those mirages! But, James paused there. This was not a mirage. This person- who James knew, although he could barely comprehend it- had to be his son, and he was solid as any other person. The boy looked almost identical to James- perhaps a few inches shorter, but if James could see correctly, the boy was the same, right down to the tiny crystal of dragon blood that had dried on the edge of the right hand rim of his glasses in James's fourth year. The same glasses, perhaps?

"Cool, you're alive," said the boy, and James gaped. That voice was almost the same as his!

"Cool, you're alive," he mimicked. The boy chuckled, and James was amazed to see what looked like himself laughing. The boy straightened up, gesturing around them.

They were in a circular room, the walls, floor and ceiling all made from the same material, a smooth stone that seemed to have no seams. Windows, showing nothing but blackness outside, were along the single wall running around them. To their right was a door, smooth and dark like the windows. In the middle of the room were two armchairs and a small campfire. "Uh...?" James said. "Err-"

"Take a seat," the boy said. "Time is so unreliable- especially here."

"Where are we?" asked James, warming his hands near the fire.

The boy shrugged. "No idea- but I guess it's some other place or something like that. Hermione probably knows something about it-"

James gave the boy a blank look.

"Oh-" the boy grinned, "She's a girl I know, well, really, Hermione's a friend-" James smirked, and the boy's eyebrows rose. "Not like that! Anyway, I've only been here once before- worked out how to get the couches!" He puffed up proudly. "Took me a while though. Three days. But you can make anything you want here, if you try hard enough."

"What, you sat in here for three days trying to make a couch? Why didn't you give up and walk through the door?" James gestured to the door- he'd figured by now that the door was the only way back to where Lily was.

The boy sighed. "It doesn't work like that. It only felt like a few moments in this room- I told you, time isn't reliable. And you can't get through the door unless you truly want it more than anything else."

"Well," said James, standing up. "That should be easy then- got a pretty girl waiting for me-" he winked, and the boy smiled knowingly. "Nice meeting you- you're my son right?"

The boy nodded. "It's Harry, by the way."

James smiled. "Well, yeah. Good luck in life and whatnot." He reached for the doorknob and turned- but it wouldn't budge. "Seems to be a bit stuck-" muttered James, rattling it. "Come on!"" He reached with one hand for his wand, to find it missing.

"No cheating," Harry said helpfully from behind him. "No wands can exist here."

James swore, kicked the door, and hopped about for a bit. A small chuckle came from Harry as James hobbled over to his arm chair and sunk into it, but shifted when he found something poking into his back. He reached behind him, and pulled out a brown paper bag of marshmallows.

"Entertainment," said Harry, handing James a long stick from the wood pile. "Enjoy."

James smiled awkwardly and started to toast a marshmallow, waiting until it was just nearly burning to pull it out of the flames, off the stick and into his mouth.

"I weeb do geb wack," he said, but it didn't come out properly due to his teeth being stuck together by melted marshmallow.

"I weeb geb wack do," Harry answered, "Buh id ish harr, wike I said."

James swallowed his marshmallow before speaking again. "So what do I have to do? Some weird magic? Travel to the ends of the earth? Discover who I really am or something equally psychotic?"

Harry chuckled, and the marshmallow on the end of his stick fell into the flames with a fwump! "Blast."

James handed over the paper bag.

"Thanks," said Harry, choosing a pink one (James's favourite) and pushing it firmly onto the prong at the end of the stick. "But no, you don't have to do anything psychotic. Plus, I thinking the chances of anyone discovering who they really are is so improbably you'd best place your bets on being made infertile by your own time travelling son."

James swallowed his burnt marshmallow with difficulty. "Huh?" He reached up and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Anyway, what do I have to do?"

"Well, the baby- Harry- me- or my past-" Harry stumbled.

"Let me guess," said James, covering his face with his hand, "you want me to send him back or something- forgive me, I'm still a bit foggy on the details."

"Same," said Harry with a sigh. "And everyone I've asked doesn't remember it - then again, Lupin doesn't really like to talk much about you- after, well- you do know, right?"

"About me dying? Yeah, well, I knew Harry's parents had died, and since I'm his dad, it makes sense right?"

"Yeah. And everyone else- well, I'm not really in touch with a lot of people at the moment," said Harry, not meeting James's eyes.

"So Harry- the baby I've been looking after since the Hogwarts Express on September 11, is my son from my future, who's travelled back in time. Just before he time travelled, Voldemort killed his parents, but from what I saw, he couldn't kill Harry." James said, and got a nod from Harry. "Then Harry arrived in our carriage, and since me and Lily are Heads, we've been ordered- well, I kind of volunteered because I thought it'd impress Lily- to care for him- which is, not easy, I'll tell you Harry. Through a series of events, my friend Peter stole Harry to give to Voldemort, and I got knocked out, and I'm here. What's you story?" he gave Harry a long look.

"Erm," said Harry, seemingly taken aback by this onslaught of very vague information. "Well, you see, a couple of months ago, I started having this dream, ones where'd I'd save Hogwarts from Voldemort, and there were lots of me there, and everyone I was saving looked like ghosts. I thought I was going mad." Harry looked at his hands. "So did my friends when I told them about the dreams."

Harry took a deep breath. "But I realised, over time, that these dreams- even though they made no sense, were real. I started paying more attention, and I finally figured out what had happened. Not to mention my dreams, after a month or so, started to deposit me in other places- around you and mum, but nobody could see me. I started asking questions about what happened in your seventh year, and everyone was annoyingly vague." Harry suddenly looked up, his bright eyes looking deep into James's own.

They truly were Lily's eyes.

"I thought they didn't want to remember, like it hurt too much or something, remembering the time when my parents fell in love. But- then I started to ask even more, and I realised: they honestly couldn't remember all the details, James." His voice hardened, barely concealing the hurt he evidently felt. "They'd forgotten the best moments of my parent's lives."

"Did anyone remember the baby?" James asked, unable to hold his curiosity in check.

"No," said Harry hollowly, "Nothing." He closed his eyes, opened them and spoke, and his tone of voice silenced James. It was a strong voice, and it was simular to his own. But it had so much authority- it made James believe that this person knew what to do, how to make everything better. It startled him to realise this was his son. His son. His blood, his flesh. Cool. "You have to make them forget, James, and send Harry- the baby- back. They can't remember. Never."

"Harry-" said James slowly, clutching the arm of his chair "-I don't know how to obliviate people full stop, how do you expect me to obliviate all those- I'd have to make all of the wizarding world forget, practically! Lily knows, Dumbledore knows-" his face paled "-Harry, Voldemort knows!" He paused. "And I don't know the first thing about time travel."

Harry spread his hands, a lazy smile on his face. "Merlin, and they said you were arrogant!"

"Hey-" said James furiously. "That's no way to speak to- erm, your father! Yeah- don't speak to your father like that!"

"Calm down- dad-" Harry said, tumbling over the word dad. "I got you covered." He piked up the bag of marshmallows, holding them up. "Remember how I said you could make anything you want in this room?" James nodded. "What I didn't mention is that you can even make things that don't exist- last time I was here I made a-" his eyes widened, as if he'd said to much, "erm, I made a griffin shaped marshmallow to give to my friends- because, you can take things that don't exist out of the room, since technically they don't exist. Real things, like couches, exist, so you can't take them even if you wanted to."

"So you're suggesting I-?" James asked.

"Make a way to make everyone forget, and send a baby forward in time."

"Am I insane?" James asked.

"I think the question is actually 'Are you insane?' "

"No, because I'm unconscious," said James, "So you're a figment of my imagination of my knocked out soul. And as a figment of my imagination, I control you. So I must be insane."

Harry shook his head. "Well that's stupid, because I'm unconscious too. I, um, got hurt- on a broomstick. I fell off." he blushed pretty hard. "Hermione and Ron are probably in a right state."

"So you're saying I'm a figment of your imagination?"

"No. Only this room is our imagination. And anything we make in this room is from our imagination, except it becomes real- except people. They'd have to knock themselves out to get in here." Harry grinned. "Understand now?"

"No," James groused. "But it'll do." He scratched his neck. "So these thingies. How do we make them?"

"It'll take a bit out of you," Harry warned. "Actually, a lot."

"I'm unconscious. It can't hurt me that much," James shrugged.

"Try having a headache for ages, and not being able to even wake up," said Harry. "Oh, and if anyone's near your body, they might notice some affects to. If we make something really big, it might look as if you've died."

"WHAT?"

"Ever heard of those people buried because people thought they were dead but they weren't? I'm pretty sure it was because they were trying to make a battering ram to get out of this room instead of just doing the right thing to get out."

"Which is?" James asked hopefully.

"After we've fixed everything," said Harry with an air of mystery, getting to his feet. James stood up also, stuffing the bag of marshmallows into his pocket. "Now, what did it look, smell, sound, taste or feel like when Harry the baby arrived?" Harry asked.

"Hmm," said James, casting his mind back. "I felt pretty pleased, but I don' think that had anything to do with it, and well, it didn't really smell of much- no taste either...there was only this red glow."

"Red glow," muttered Harry. "What gives a red glow?"

"Stupefy? Fireworks? Lava lamp?" James said.

"no," said Harry dismissively. "Love, you idiot."

"Love isn't a glow," James pointed out, "It's a feeling. Sure it feels like it's a glow inside you, but-"

"No," said Harry, looking ahead through one of the black windows. "That how I must have travelled. That's how I'll travel back- ok, we can work on that later."

James gave him a look of confusion. "Right," said Harry, pacing, "How to make everyone forget. Make a machine, doesn't matter how it works really, but what to do with once we've done with it?"

"Put it in Dumbledore's office," said James with a stroke of inspiration. "He's got heaps of trinkets- make it look like the rest of them, then hide the machine first chance I get- I know the password after all, and I can see when he's not there- you know the marauder's map, right?" He shot at Harry, who grinned.

"That's a great idea!" Harry said. "What should it do, exactly?"

"It should be able to take any memories including a baby from anyone's minds since September 11, should make people's memory's foggy- I kind of feel bad for anyone who's got a test coming up- ad the battle must go," said James decisively.

"Good," said Harry, and James wondered just how alike they were at making plans. "It should be silver. With little bits coming off it and a way to set it off so Dumbledore can't figure it out even if he does notice it- maybe we should make it sensitive so only one person can set it off? That way, if you need to reverse it for some reason, you can just touch it and, well- a bit of your blood will do the trick."

"So I just prick my finger and everyone forgets- but how would I know I need to remember if I've forgotten?" asked James.

Harry looked down. "You can't forget." He looked really sad.

"What's so bad about that?" said James, thinking it would be cool if he was the only person who knew the truth.

"Well, you're going to remember everything. Even your death," said Harry in a quiet voice. "And you can't change it because you'd make a pardox." James took in a sharp breath.

Could he do that? Lily would get killed too- could he let her get killed without telling her? Or maybe he could tell her? But how could he just go to his death like that? He didn't want to die- not for no reason.

But looking at Harry reminded him that he did have a reason, a really good one. His son.

Rubbing his temples, his looked at Harry. Then he reached out a hand and made Harry look at him. "I'd do that. Did you-" he took a swelling breath, "-think that your father, who died for you, wouldn't be willing to do it a million times over for you?"

"But you don't even know me," said Harry, vainly trying to guard his feelings on the matter.

"Excuse me?" Said James. "How dare you! Of course I know you! You are brave, and you like to laugh. You are a good heart, and whether you believe it or not, I love you. Sure, at this point in time I've only known a baby version of you for about three months, but that's enough for me." He gave Harry a fierce look. "I also know that you obviously don't know me. Because anyone who truly knows me would know that I'd do anything to do what's right by me. I've broken the law, and I've served justice- perhaps in an unorthodox manner- but never the less, if I know that there's a person who deserves to live and I can help them do that, not in a million years would I think to do differently!"

Harry stared at him with a gob smacked expression- then James found himself in a bone crushing hug.

"I knew Snape was wrong about you," Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

James, trying to salvage the moment, gave him a manly pat on the back, pulled away and raised his eyebrows. "Going to make this little trinket for Dumbledore or what?"

"Yeah," said Harry, his voice a bit thick. "Right, look through that window, and picture the machine. Picture what you want it to do, how it works. Oh, and give me a drop of blood."

"Blood?" said James in alarm.

"To set it," said Harry. James shrugged, picked up his pointy stick and drove it into his index finger. A shiny scarlet droplet formed onto his throbbing finger. "Drop it out the window," said Harry. James walked up to the black glass, and put his hand near it...only to find it was not glass. It was just a black expanse. "Don't stick your head out!" Harry called. "Just your finger." James stuck his hand out the window, shook his hand, and the droplet of blood flew off, hovering in the middle of the black expanse. James moved back and stood next to Harry. "I'll help you," said Harry, gripping the hand with the throbbing finger. "Just close your eyes and picture it. I'll tell you when it's there."

James closed his eyes and pictured the little trinket, shining silver, floating in mid air in that black window. He imagined being in Dumbledore's office, dropping some blood onto it, and making everyone who'd seen Harry or heard of him; everyone, forgetting. Everyone except him.

In the hospital wing, Lily moved her head onto a more preferable pillow to the window sill, onto James's chest, and listened to the steady beat of his heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It stopped. Lily moved her head, trying to find that comforting thump. No thump. She sat up, frowning. James's pale face was white in the moonlight through the window. She placed her fingers on his wrist, using the muggle trick her mother had taught her to check for pulses. There was none. With dread in her heart, which was a cold, gnawing feeling, she checked his other wrist, his neck...

"Madame Pompfrey!" she screamed, raising a hand to her mouth.

"No," she whispered at James as the Matron called she'd be there in a sec (which would be all too late in Lily's opinion), "James. You can't do this."

She leaned towards him. "You can't die."

"Ah, you're awake," said Harry, and James looked around him. He was still in the circular room, only there was one addition. A silver trinket, shaped like a small dish propped up on baby's hands was placed by the door. James stood up to inspect it. In the middle was a lightening bolt shaped engraving leading to the base of what could only be an antennae.

"Wicked," he said. "How long have I've been out?"

"Three hours," said Harry. "They won't have shipped you off to your funeral, don't worry."

James gave him a panicked look that said don't pull that trick on me. "So," he said uncomfortably, "what about sending Harry the baby back?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Harry. "Because Harry's really going to need some glasses."

"Huh?" James said, eyes narrowing.

Harry tapped the glasses perched on his nose. "One of the few things I do know is that my father lost his glasses during his seventh year, but the night he died, they mysteriously turned up. Hagrid- yeah, he came to pick me up from the house - found this pair of glasses right near my crib, which is very weird since my dad wasn't anywhere near it, but picked them up because they were the only thing not damaged. I've had them ever since."

"And what am I going to do without glasses?" James asked.

"You've got a spare pair, haven't you?" Harry asked.

"Ah, yeah, but- well, these are my glasses." Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine," James said, "but how are a pair of glasses going to help anyway?"

"Put them on the baby," said Harry, "just before you set this trinket off. I've worked on them while you were out. They'll send him back."

"But how-"

"Magic," said Harry with a grin. "You'll learn to love it." James shook his head in confusion.

"You're strange," he informed the boy who was his son.

"So are you," Harry answered. "Are you ready to go?" He made his way to the door. "Because I sure am."

James went to the door and picked up the trinket, putting it carefully in his pocket. The dish rattled, but otherwise it stayed in one piece. "Just open the door when you're ready," Harry said behind him. Was that hope in his voice?

James turned, and stuck out a hand. "Thanks- for, well, you know. And err, well, I just want to say- I was telling the truth before. I do love that baby- can't wait until he gets born."

Harry blinked rapidly whilst shaking his hand. "Thanks, dad. It means a lot to me."

"Same for me son- you ready then?"

"Yeah," said Harry, standing next to him "Just go back to your body- not the light. Get it James? Don't go towards the light."

"Hey, no sweat," James said, but his heart was pounding madly in his chest, beating out a tattoo. James put his hand on the door knob and turned it.

And once again, he was falling.

Lily sat numbly next to the bed. James was dead. Dead. As in, not alive. Never going to wake up ever again.

How could he do this to her?

Sirius was sitting on the window sill, a disbelieving look on his face. Remus was nursing a cup of tea that the nurse had offered everyone. Peter was staring out the window, brushing away the stray tears that rolled down his cheeks at intervals. Instead of the maximum six visitors, the Matron had allowed as many people to stand around in her beloved Hospital Wing. Lily didn't know why- what was the point? Being near his body wasn't going to help. The dead couldn't be brought back to life, not even with magic.
"They said he was going to live," Sirius croaked into the silence.

That was it for Lily. With a wail, she threw herself over James's body (she hadn't let anybody cover his face- who could be so cruel?) and lay there, sobbing softly. Somebody was stroking her hair, and she reached up to push it away. The hand caught hers, holding it, and she raised her head.

James smiled weakly at her. "Hey," he whispered hoarsely, and she stared at him in shock.

Maybe she was mad. Maybe she'd been driven to lunacy by her grief. Because that was the only reasonable explanation to what she was seeing. James was alive. And she told him so. "You're dead," she choked out. James brought her fingers to his lips and brushed them across them.

"Not anymore," he whispered. "I'm back."

She gathered him into her arms, despite the Matron's protests that he must be weak, despite the fact that Sirius was calling his best friend's name, despite everyone, and held him close to her.

James was back, and there was no way she was letting him get away from her again.

A/n: Despite the fact I make it a point to respect those who don't celebrate Christmas at this time of year, I'm giving you this chapter as a holiday gift. And no, your eyes aren't decieving you, it IS the longest chapter so far. I couldn't help it- and there was not way I was going to be so cruel as to cut it in half. Now- let me get a tissue ... damn these allergies.

Allergies to really soppy chapters, that is. Makes me leak from the eyes for some reason.

The circular room is like this place in a person's mind, the safe place they retreat to when they're unconcious. Time doesn't matter there, and that's how Harry got there. For those who are curious, Harry is seventeen when he came to that room. A tiny bit of back story to it- basically, he was on the Horcrux hunt, and was on his broom, fell off (yeah, right- like anybody would believe that Harry Potter just fell of his broom) and got knocked out ...

Now I've got almost six school free weeks (hail summer holidays in the southern hemisphere- much more strategically placed in the year if you ask me- starting the school year in September just never clicked with me) so hopefully I'll write a lot faster... and gasp, maybe get my other story that I'm planning on track.

Yes, I will be honest: I've left some room for a sequal, but I'm not exactly bouncing around to do it. We'll see, ok?

Questions, comments, flames, reviews, hate mail, love letters, inductions to secret societies and large boxes of tissues are all welcome.