Chapter 3- Memories for Moony

Harry quietly opened the front door leading into Number 12. The floorboards squeaked in irritation as he walked inside, worrying him that he might wake the horrible portrait of Mrs. Black. Harry looked around, afraid that he might run into someone from the Order catching his return, but all was empty, no one was around. Harry found that a bit odd, but didn't linger too much on it. His head felt a lot clearer after getting some fresh air, but now his legs were tired and wanted to rest. He headed up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms and collapsed down on one of the moth-eaten mattresses, dust flew up everywhere as he body made impact on it. But he was so exhausted he didn't care.

"Who is this Harry person that you all keep mentioning? And if this is the future, where's my future-self? How old am I? Oh, did I become a professional Quidditch player? Did I ever-" James would have kept going if the Headmaster hadn't raised his hand for silence once again. The resemblance sure was uncanny, but Harry and James's personalities were far from the same. Harry was much more mellow compared to his father. James talked an awful lot, and asked far too many questions. Dumbledore rubbed his temples as though he wasn't quite sure where to begin. Then he looked up at everyone sitting at the table. "You've never run into a boy by the name of Arthur Weasley at Hogwarts, have you?"

James rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "I never actually spoke to him, but I had seen him around. Of course, that was years ago. He was a seventh year when I was in my first year and then he graduated. Same with his Girlfriend, Molly Prewett. I knew her in my first year though. She was able to get me out of some nasty trouble once, you know, since she was head-girl and all. The teachers listened to her. I would have been in one looooong detention of it hadn't been for her."

Molly Weasley was red in the face and smiling softly to herself.

Dumbledore smiled, "Well, James, then I believe there's no need for me to introduce the two of you." He held is hand out toward Molly at the other side of the table. She smiled at James lovingly.

James looked at Dumbledore, then at Molly and then back at the headmaster. "Whoa, wait. You're telling me that's Molly Prewett?"

"It's Molly Weasely now." Said Mrs.Weasley with a broad smile.

James shot a look at the tall red-haired man standing beside her. "So, it that-"

"Yes." Said Mr. Weasley.

He looked back at Mrs. Weasley, "You two got married?"

She nodded. He ran his hand through his hair and gazed around at everyone else "so, let me guess." He pointed to Fred, "You're a Weasley?"

"I dunno, am I?" he gazed at his mother suspiciously. She gave him a look of warning.

"Weasley?" James pointed at George who gave him the thumbs up.

"Weasley." He pointed at Ron, who smiled hesitantly. "And, Weasley-" he pointed at Hermione who stifled a small laugh with her palm. Dumbledore smiled, "No, James, This is Hermione. She's not a Weasley."

"Your not?" Said James. "Alright, let me guess. You're a… McCook…" she shook her head. "An… Anderson? You know, you kind of look like this one girl in my Potions class…"

"Dumbledore smiled, "Actually, she's a Granger."

James looked puzzled. "Funny, I've never heard of a Granger at Hogwarts."

"You wouldn't know any of her relatives. You see, Miss Granger is a Muggle-born."

There was a moment of silence. James stared at Hermione who looked uncomfortable.

"Oh." Said James shortly. "I'm a pureblood, you know." He said, pointing at himself and sticking out his chest proudly.

Hermione's expression changed instantly, she frowned, "You think just because you're a Pureblood, it makes you better?"

"Hey, I was just saying." He said airily.

"What's wrong with me being a Muggle-born?" she folded her arms, staring hard at James.

"Whoa, don't freak out." James said, "There's nothing wrong with Muggle-borns. My girlfriend is a muggle-born." He said proudly.

"What girlfriend?" asked a voice from the corner.

James looked behind him, "Lily Evans, of course."

Remus Lupin stepped out from the dark corner. "Really? Age may have mottled my memory, but I don't recall Lily dating you in your fifth year. In fact, that was the year she hated you the most… I believe it was because you proposed to her in the Great Hall during Breakfast. And I believe Lily called you quite a few cruel names before dumping her porridge bowl on her head and stalking off in embarrassment."

James stared at the man, his mouth slack. "How do you-"

The old professor continued, "And I recall her exact words being somewhere along the lines of: if you ever do that again I'll hex you into oblivion, you rat." Something like amusement flashed behind Lupin's eyes.

"She only meant out of love!" said James defensively. "How would you know what she said, anyways?" muttered James. He said it as though he didn't really care, but in truth James really was curious how that man knew about that situation when it had only happened last week.

"Because, I was there."

James burst out in laughter, staring at the man in amusement, "You were there? Ha ha ha! I think someone's had a little too much flaming fire whiskey!"

"Believe what you will, Prongs."

James's laughter stopped instantly. The smile slid right off his face as he looked up at the man's worn features. "What did you call me?"

Lupin didn't answer.

"How do know that name?" asked James, "No one is supposed to know that name except Remus, Peter and Sirius-"

" You mean Moony, Wormtail and Padfoot." Said Lupin.

James's jaw dropped. "How do you…" but he seemed lost for words.

"It's me, James. Remus." Said Lupin, a far kind of sadness seemed to reflect in his eyes. He slowly slunk down in the chair next to James, never taking his eyes off him.

James let a small laugh that sounded a bit nervous. "I know Remus, he's one of my best friends! And you're not him!" He said convinced as he folded his arms smugly and looked away.

"I helped you pick that name." Said Lupin slowly. "Prongs." He found the memory in full detail hard to remember since it had occurred so long ago and only hours before the full moon. But edges of it scraped at his brain, longing to be remembered as well. "We finally agreed on it, that night in the shrieking shack."

James slowly looked up at the weary man next to him, the look on the boy's face softened. Something about those old blue eyes seemed familiar.

"You had bruise on your shoulder, that night during our third year. Sirius dared you to try and get down to the shack without pushing the knot in the Whomping Willow." The man gave a small chuckle. "Stupid thing to do, really."

James studied that aged face; the many creases from years of either smiling or anguish that lined his tired eyes and mouth. The various scratch marks and faint scars. Even underneath that graying brown hair, the look of his good friend shone through as soon as he had let out that smile. The look of dawning realization struck James's face. He looked at little closer and then hesitantly reached out a hand and touched that tired face.

"Moony?" James whispered. He would never know how wonderful it made Lupin feel just to hear that name again. "It is you." He pulled his hand away and studied him, part of him in near shock. Then he whispered, "You're all grown up."

Remus smiled broadly. James had grown very serious, "what happened to you? Your… your old."

Remus gave a small chuckle, "that's what age does to you."

James gave a small smile, but there was something like pity behind it.

"So… if you're here, then I must be here as an adult too."

No one said anything. Mrs. Weasley looked down at the ground and the moment of brief happiness suddenly faded from Lupin's eyes. Everyone seemed to be avoiding the boy's gaze. No one wanted to tell him the truth.

"Well?" he looked around at all of them. "Where am I?" he looked at Dumbledore.

Only the headmaster spoke, "your gone."

"Where?" asked James questioningly?

"Your away right now." Was all the headmaster said.

James's upbeat manner suddenly perked within him, "Where? Playing for Puddlemere United? Am I keeper still? Oh, or a secret mission? Am I an Auror? How many wizards have I caught? Hey…" he quickly looked back at Remus. "If you're here, then Sirius must be too! How old does he look now?" James didn't wait for any answers, he quickly ran through towards the door that exited the kitchen. "Sirius!" he called.

"James, wait! There's still someone you need to know about! Harry, he's-" that was all Dumbledore was able to say before James had rushed out the door, calling for his best friend. "Sirius! Where are you, git?" he said with a laugh. "Hiding from me?" he pulled open the door to the hallway closet. Everything dumped out of it onto the floor; James just stepped over it and kept looking. "Come out! I know you're here!"

"James, wait!" Mr. Weasley tried to say as everyone else followed him out to the hallway.

Mrs. Black's Portrait began yelling vile words. "She's still here?" James said more to himself than anybody. "Hey, shut it, you old hag!" he continued his search. "Sirius!"

Harry tiredly opened his eyes. He could hear a muffled yell echoing downstairs. Irritated and tired he got up.

"James, Sirius is… away too." Said Remus trying to talk over James's yells. But James didn't seem to have heard him. He ran upstairs. "SIRIUS!!!" He yelled really loud. He heard shuffling within one of the rooms.

Harry could hear someone outside the door. "If this is Ron trying to sneak up on me again…" he quietly made his way over to the door and grabbed the handle ready to give Ron a scare before he gave Harry one.

James listened. Yep, there was someone in there all right, it had to be Sirius. He grabbed the handle preparing to open it and surprise his friend.

"One…"James counted quietly.

"…Two…" whispered Harry

"…Three!" James thrust open the door, smiling gleefully.

As soon as Harry yelled "three" he felt the handle rip from his hand and swing open. Who he saw standing across from him definitely wasn't Ron.

And it certainly wasn't Sirius. James's smiled was replaced by a look of horror.

Dumbledore headed up the stairs after James, everyone else at his heels. But before any of them made it to the top landing, two, loud, horrified yells sounded in unison, echoing throughout the staircase, causing Mrs. Blacks portrait to wake up again and join in.