Remus Lupin followed Dumbledore out of Number 12, leaving Harry, James, and the Weasleys in silence.

"I-I'll get some snacks started, shall I?" Said Mrs. Weasley clapping her hands together. She bustled off to the kitchen.

"We'll help!" Said Hermione eagerly, grabbing Ginny by the arm and dragging her towards the kitchen too. Hermione turned in the doorway. "Ron, are you coming?"

"No." said Ron airily.

Hermione glared at him.

"Oh, I mean, sure." He said turning red and quickly followed suit.

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was more than obvious what they were trying to give Harry and James a moment to talk.

"We'll help too!" said the twins in unison, taking everyone by surprise.

They all bustled into the kitchen. The only one with the nerve to turn around and give Harry a sympathetic glance was Hermione.

Harry sat down on the musty couch and stared absently into the fireplace.

"So…" began James uncomfortably. He looked around, trying to think up a quick subject. There were so many things to say and so many things to ask, but he was afraid to bring any of them up. Harry said nothing. Finally James walked across the rug and sat opposite of Harry.

Harry looked over at him. James recognized those eyes. He'd recognize them anywhere. They were Lily's green almond shaped eyes. That was when James found the situation no longer amusing. That was when it really sunk in…. this boy, sitting across from him… was his son. Those eyes told the truth. They told him he really was going to somehow marry Lily Evans, and that he was indeed going to have a family… but they also were trying to tell him something else… he wasn't quite sure what it was… Those eyes seemed…sad. Empty. They were missing Lily's warmth within them. It was as though Harry's eyes were telling him that he was missing something… or perhaps… someone…? James wasn't sure, but it made him feel funny. He looked down at the moth-eaten rug. "Sorry…" James muttered, not meeting Harry's eyes this time, "about shooting all those spells at you."

Harry didn't answer. He didn't want to. It was too hard… too strange to be speaking to someone he had never met. Someone who Dumbledore claimed to be the person Harry had missed the most in his life. It was just too hard to believe.

"Yea… so, you play Quidditch?" James asked, playing with a hem on his robe, as though it was a much more important thing to do than look at Harry.

"Yes." Murmured Harry.

"Chaser?" James guessed, looking up at him hopefully.

"No." said Harry.

"Please don't say my blood became a beater…" James said trying not to look disappointed.

"I'm a seeker." Said Harry, continuing to gaze into the fireplace.

James's eyes lit up happily, "Seeker? Wow… very nice."

Harry looked up at James who was smiling broadly at him. He looked proudly at Harry, and he couldn't help but let a small smile appear.

"You must be really good to get the position of seeker. That takes a lot of skill. Either that or they couldn't find anyone else to fulfill the position." Said James looking at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, still smiling broadly.

"I am good." Harry didn't mean to brag, but James had sort of offended him.

James didn't answer. He slowly reached down and grabbed one of Crookshanks small knitted balls that Hermione had bought her cat to play with. Suddenly he chucked it as hard as he could at Harry's head. Harry's hand snapped up and caught it inches from his face.

"What did you do that for?" Harry asked, a little angry.

"Wow, you are good." Smiled James.

Harry chucked it back causing it to strike James squarely in his chest. "Ow!" He exclaimed, rubbing where it had hit, "I said I'm a Chaser, not a Seeker! I don't have as quick reflexes as you." Then he let out a small chuckle. "Come on, Harry, I was just toying with you. Why do you look so depressed? You need to learn to lighten up! It's not like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

The small smile Harry had revealed on his face quickly retreated behind a frown. Harry looked back towards the fireplace, looking sullen once more.

There was clearly something that he wasn't telling James. James opened his mouth to ask, but decided it would probably be better not to.

"Well, I still don't believe you inherited my bloody wicked Quidditch skills… want to try and prove me wrong while we wait for dinner?" James asked, the delight of challenge flashing behind his rectangular spectacles.

Harry's immediate instinct was to say no, but the look in James's eyes made him feel a small twinge of competitiveness. What could it hurt? He had always been told how amazing his dad had been at the magical sport. It would be interesting to see how good he really was. James was apparently thinking the same thing about Harry.

"Alright… James…" Harry had to stop and let the name sink in. It felt so strange to say. "You're on."

The two boys headed upstairs. "Here." Said Harry as he handed James a broomstick. "Ron won't mind if you borrow his cleansweep 7."

"Hey, this is the same broom I have! Except mine's a newer model." James eyed its many broken bristles and chipped handle from the various times Ron had crashed it. "I take it your red-headed friend isn't too good at Quidditch…"

"Oh, Ron? Yea… he could use some more practice." Harry muttered has he grabbed his broom.

James's jaw dropped. "What is that!"

"I-it's my Firebolt." Harry replied, a little embarrassed.

"A what? What model is that? When did they start making brooms with automated acceleration? Is that handle mahogany? Can I touch it? What's its speed range? I bet that thing pulls from dives so well, can I ride it?" James chattered still gazing at the broom in awe and longing.

Harry waited until he was finished gaping. "It's currently the fastest broomstick model in England, the Firebolt is." His embarrassment turned to pride.

"Hey… that's not too fair…" James began.

"Well, we can switch off broomsticks every now and then." Said Harry with a shrug.

That seemed to be just the reply James had been hoping for. "Alright, let the match begin!" James ran downstairs, Harry at his heels. They entered the living room and stopped. "Hmm… there's really nowhere to play." James looked out the dusty window into the extremely small, gated yard behind the house. "Well, I guess we'll have to play in here." He said merrily as though there was nothing wrong about the suggestion.

"Quidditch?" replied Harry questioningly, "in the house? I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh, come one. You're starting to sound like a prefect. It's just Sirius's old dumpy house, it's a disaster already. What more could we do to it? Beside we're both good, responsible players, we'll be careful."

Harry still looked around the room hesitantly.

"Look, it's not as big as a Quidditch pitch, but it's still a pretty large room. And the high-vaulted ceiling makes it even more perfect for playing! We'll just have to watch the furniture." James said brightly. He mounted upon his broom and looked at Harry, "well?" he gave his cheesy grin.

"Alright." Harry said in defeat. "How about just one round."

"Sounds good to me."

"Now, where are we going to get-"

"I've got it covered." James smiled smugly and reached into his robe pocket. He held tightly within his palm a Golden Snitch. It's wings twitching frantically, itching to fly. "I took it yesterday from the Quidditch storage shed. Those locks are so easy to pick."

"Well, there's one ball. What about all the others?"

James looked around thoughtfully, "Hmm… well, there's no other players so we don't need bludgers, but I suppose we could use a Quaffle." Using his free hand he pulled a wand out of his robes.

"You can't use magic, you'll be expelled!" Exclaimed Harry, taking himself by surprise by how much he sounded like Hermione.

"Correction. You'll be expelled. I won't be. I'm not in my own time period meaning I'm not registered at Hogwarts. Therefore my wand is undetectable by the Ministry of Magic." He lifted his wand and pointed it back down at Crookshanks' round cat toy. "Engorgeo." He said. The small knitted ball suddenly grew five sizes bigger. "There, that looks about right." James looked back at Harry. "Shall we?"

Harry mounted his Firebolt. James smiled and slowly unclasped his fingers. The Snitch zipped from his hand so fast it was no more than a blur.

James smiled at Harry and then took off swooping down and seizing their "quaffle" in his arms as he flew. Harry kicked off. He personally didn't think it was going to be that exciting not being on a Quidditch pitch and not being able to feel the wind in his hair. Then again it was nice to not have the continuous roar of a crowd ringing in his ears and the jeers of Slytherins distracting him. And the small room made it more of a challenge, which Harry enjoyed.

Harry didn't have any experience being a Chaser, so at first he had a little trouble throwing the 'quaffle' very well, but after a few throws, he got the rhythm of it. After a few more practice throws they began, but James played completely different than Harry had expected. He was rough, really rough. Before Harry knew what had hit him James had slammed hard into the side of him just as they made a sharp turn and the Quaffle flew gracefully from Harry's arms and across the room. The both sped after it dodging the chandelier by inches. Right as Harry made a light dive to grab the ball again, James sped from the opposite direction and snatched right before it had touched Harry's outstretched fingers. Okay, so James was good, Harry decided. Really good. But Harry decided that the only reason James was beating him so bad was because James was used to the Chaser position and Harry wasn't. It was time for them to play in Harry's league.

Harry stopped chasing James who was retrieving the Quaffle and instead began focusing his attention towards the golden snitch, which was hovering low near the couch. Harry's sudden change of direction caught James's eye. James dropped the quaffle immediately and accelerated towards Harry's destination. Harry turned to see the hungry look of competition burning in James's eyes. Harry went faster, feeling the burning desire to beat James to the snitch, but right as Harry outstretched his fingers, the snitch fluttered nervously away and headed towards the living room door; which unfortunately Harry was only now realizing, had not been shut all the way. The snitch sped through the door's crack and out into the hallway. And without thinking twice about the consequences or what they were doing they sped out after it like mad men.

The hallway was so long and tiny Harry and James were bumping shoulders, neither daring to take their eyes off the tiny gold ball. Harry could hear James laughing in his ears in excitement as they drew nearer to it. They turned a sharp corner and James rammed Harry hard into the wall, Furious, Harry stabilized his broom, ignored his aching side and rammed himself back into James, causing him to collide with a table and the vase sitting on top of it, which shattered. The distraction had caused them both to lose sight of the Snitch, but they finally saw it once again, heading up the stairs. They paused to look at one another, greedy smiles stretching across their faces. They took off once again, bumping shoulders, hands outstretched so far in longing for the ball they hurt.

They let out loud yelps in unison as a gut-wrenching lurch flung them backwards towards the staircase and onto the hard, dusty wood floor. Harry heard both their brooms clunk down somewhere near them. Harry looked at James with a pained expression and James returned the same look, both letting out a low, "owwww…". They heard the impatient tapping of a foot and looked up to see Mrs. Weasley standing to the right of them in the kitchen doorway, her wand out.

"Accio brooms!" she said loudly and clearly, and both the Firebolt and the Cleansweep 7 flew into her hands. She gazed down at the boys. Lupin stood at her side, his expression unreadable. Fred and George stood behind them, looking over their mother's shoulders and said to Harry and James in mock shame, "Playing Quidditch in the house-"

"-tsk. Naughty, naughty!" The two twins shook their heads, smiles on their faces.

Mrs. Weasley took a step towards Harry and James, "What in Merlin's name-"

"Harry started it!" James interjected pointing a finger at Harry.

"No I didn't! It was YOUR idea!" Harry said furiously, "You suggested it!"

"Even if I did, you agreed!"

Harry opened his mouth angrily and then closed it again, un able to find something to say. James looked at him smugly.

"Do you boys not understand the seriousness of what's going on here?" Lupin stepped forward. "Do you really feel like this is the time to be messing around? There isn't time for games; this whole Splinching situation could be fatal for both of you! We need to be thinking of a solution instead of causing more problems."

Mrs. Weasley's expression for some reason softened. And Harry and James looked at each other, feeling terrible. But what had Lupin meant by "fatal to both of them?"

Harry's mind drifted away from that as he looked around at the overturned tables and broken vase. James looked down at the floor, ashamed. The snitch had resurfaced from upstairs and was now zipping around the two boys' heads, as though mocking them.

Lupin suddenly felt terrible for snapping at them, he just felt so stressed, he had no idea how they were going to get James home, how they were going to fix any of this. He couldn't seem to find a solution and it was beginning to scare him.

Lupin opened his mouth to speak but before he could Harry said, "Sorry."

"No," said James, standing up, "I'm sorry. If I hadn't gotten so competitive…"

"You weren't the only one." Harry shamefully admitted, standing up as well.

"I suggested it…." James murmured.

"Yea, but I agreed."

Harry and James looked at each other and they both gave out a small smile apologetically towards one another.

"We were just trying to have a bit of fun." Said James, looking at Mrs. Weasley. "Just trying to lighten things up."

Harry nodded.

"But… I guess we got a little too carried away." Harry admitted, looking around at the messy trail they had left in their wake.

James nodded this time.

"No, its- its not you." Lupin said to the boys. "I just feel pressured by this whole- oh, never mind, it's nothing." He smiled at them. "I should have expected there to be mischief as soon as I left the room. One Potter is trouble enough, bring two and I guess this is what you get. I should have known better."

Mrs. Weasley sighed feeling that what Lupin had said had been enough, "Well, what can you do…" She flicked her wand and the mess around them repaired, the snitch fell immobilized to the floor and she handed them back their brooms, smiling at them. "Dinners ready then, come on you two." She walked back into the kitchen, Lupin following at her heels.

James reached down and picked up the immobile Snitch, it's wings still stretched out as though it was still in flight. Harry and James looked at the Snitch and then at one another. And for some strange reason, they both began to let out a chuckle, which soon turned into a laugh, and then into an uncontrollable fit.

After a minute or so Harry wiped a tear of laughter from his eye, "We really did get out of hand there."

"Yea." Agreed James, smiling broadly.

"It's true though." Said Harry.

"Er, what's true?" James looked at him.

"You really are a great Quidditch player."

James's smiled widened. He twirled the snitch in his fingers. "Not nearly as good as you. I guess it's true then, skill grows stronger with every generation. That's what my dad always says." They smiled at one another. James breathed in deeply and brushed off his robes, "Alright, there's no time to be getting sentimental, there's food calling us!"

And together they walked into the kitchen and for the first time that day, they were thankful for one another's company.