Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I gain anything (but writing and editing experience) by using the plot and characters from these works. Naruto and and the Harry Potter series belong to their respective creators, editors, publishers, and companies.

Summary: They were all trying to escape, whether it was from fate, war, grief, abuse, hate. There are many Harry Potter spoilers for those who have not read the books, and just as many spoilers for the Naruto series.

A/N: Please enjoy ~ dperessedchildren -edited 2/9/13

Key:

text is text

spell you can tell when it's a spell, usually as perversion of a Latin phrase

"dialogue" a foreign language, the opposite language of the world they are in.


Chapitre deux


Minato ended up having Kakashi buy some instant ramen, while the little boy began scouring the house for where his father hid the rice. All of the fish they ate was bought at the market in the morning, so they did not have to worry about that. It was sad that three of their cupboards were filled with rice; the others housed a combination of poisons and weapons.

Harry poked at the ramen suspiciously, thus causing the two ninja to shake their heads in disbelief. They always thought the boy was exaggerating when he said they only ate rice and fish. What about fruits and vegetables? Where was the child getting all his nutrients? What about calcium?

"Daddy has me drink two glasses of milk for breakfast," the boy exclaimed, waiting for it to magically appear before him, and refusing to touch his food until he had his milk. Of course this too was bought fresh at the market. Well, at least he had some calcium in his diet.

Kakashi tilted his head back and sighed once more. He wished his little friend had an opportunity to be a child, sometimes Kakashi wished he had that opportunity but he was already moving on a very fast track toward being a jōnin. The warring climate had not lessened but at least no out right confrontations had occurred for a year now. Because of this lull and all of the peace negotiations, Minato-sensei was being trained for the position of Hokage. Only a handful of people knew this, but with the Sandaime so busy with negotiations, the Hokage was falling behind on paper work and so he made Minato-sensei do it as "training." Because of this, team Minato had been out of commission for some time now, and Kakashi's teammates were spending time with family lest the negotiations turn sour and a third Ninja War erupted. Kakashi wondered what would happen if a war did break out, a war that dragged all the nations into it. The climate was tense already and the chūnin wouldn't be surprised if in another year a full scale war did start.

Kakashi sighed once more but was startled from his thoughts by his little friend's excited yell.

"Milk!" the child cried, and indeed there was milk. As if by magic, two glasses of the beverage were set before the boy who was now digging into the ramen. Kakashi did not even bat an eye at this. Strange things happened around Minato-sensei all the time, same with Shika, why would it be different with Shika's son?

Minato hummed contentedly to himself, he had imagined a glass of milk resting beside his cousin's bowl and magic produced what he had intended. That was the nice thing about Grandma and Grandpa Potter, they taught him how to harness his magic so it would not harm himself. They explained what it was and that intense emotions could cause bouts of accidental magic. However, even now, if his emotions were out of control there would be accidental magic, because he had never been trained. However, every now and then he needed to let a little bit of magic out lest he face a backlash. Thus he found that focusing on something intently could produce magic as well, but it was exhausting and only simple magic that occurred. This was often how Minato let his magic out, he could do it once a year it seemed.

Minato knew little Harry had summoned the second glass, and for that he was smiling. Harry's magic was very wild right now, and reacted to the slightest whim. Minato's grandparents told him he and his uncle were both like that too.

With breakfast done, the two boys went outside while Minato was stuck signing papers, and making sure the boys didn't hurt themselves. With a frown marring the young man's face, he had to concede that the child would make a brilliant assassin with a little more training. He would not be a heavy hitting ninja, but one of true stealth. Harry could slip behind an opponent and grant them a quick demise, if only with a few more years of training. And that was the thought which scared Minato most.

He couldn't bear the thought of his little cousin becoming a killer, of becoming a ninja so young. But that was what James wanted; he wanted his son strong enough to face all the obstacles life put before him. He wanted his son to know how to kill, and how to protect his precious people. He wanted to make sure the child could never be brought into another wizard war.

James was terrified, though he would never admit it, that someone would come for them; that someone would take his son away from him. Harry was all the man had left in the world; he was the only person he had left to protect. Of course there was Minato, but they had begun to drift apart.

It had started when James came to Konoha with his fifteen-month-old son crying and bleeding in his arms. He had passed the infant off to Minato before moving toward the Hokage's tower. The only thing he had said was that he was going to register as a ninja and find a home for them. Minato had watched his uncle and best friend walk away; James's usually bright and amused brown eyes were dead.

Later, after James had received his forehead protector, they were sitting in Minato's apartment drinking a few beers. "Lily's dead," was all he had said after a long time. Having never seen his uncle in this mood, Minato had remained quiet, and had let James say what was bothering him when he wanted to.

It had been after Harry woke up crying that James had been able to say what was troubling him, and he had done so while holding tightly to his very awake son, "My illusion didn't work, the one time it wasn't enough and…" James had trailed off and swallowed audibly.

"This is about that prophecy, isn't it?"

"Voldemort chose my son," James's voice had been thick with emotion. Harry had been looking at his father in confusion; his infant mind did not comprehend what was going on but he could still feel the tension in the air. "He hit me with a stunning charm but I locked him in a mind illusion…or so I thought," Minato had nodded slowly, and encouraged the man to continue, "He was supposed to believe he succeeded in killing me, Lily, and Harry, but instead he went on to kill them," James's voice had held disbelief. It was as if James could not wrap his mind around what had happened, as if the possibility he could fail at something was inconceivable. And James continued to struggle with that, even after three years.

"Grandma talked about how powerful love can be, how it's the oldest form of magic in the world," Minato had murmured softly, his stormy blue eyes had caught James's eyes, "How exactly did Harry survive?"

"I don't know, Voldemort hit him with the killing curse but it rebounded onto him," the man had just held tighter to his son, who by this time had begun to touch his father's tear streaked face in wonderment. His brilliant green eyes had seemed to be asking what this moisture was, and why was his father creating it?

"Was this after Lily," the wild look in his uncle's eyes had cut off the jōnin, but it answered his question none the less. Minato had taken a swig of his drink, while he thought back to what his grandmother had told him about love and the old magic. Even now, if he was to hazard a guess, he would say what he had three years ago. "Maybe it was part of the prophecy. Lily's love protected Harry, and made it impossible for Voldemort to hurt him."

James had looked up at Minato, his brown eyes expressed hurt and betrayal, "Are you saying there was nothing I could do? That no matter what she was going to die?" James had been seething, his chest heaving, "Are you saying that some hag's prophecy is the reason my wife is dead, and my son will be hunted for the rest of his life by bigoted psychopaths with sticks?!"

"Yes, there was nothing you could do,"

"Yes there was, if I had just invested in speed I could have reached her in time!" James had stood up by this point, and had loomed over the seated younger man, Harry had begun to cry by this point, for the loud noises his father had been making had scared him. "You were always right, Minato, what's strength without speed?"

With those words hanging in the air, the man had left through the window with Harry crying securely in James's arms.

It grew worse after that night. In the following days, James began pushing his baby to read, he would spend every free hour he had telling the child ninja basics: chakra theory, pressure points, jutsu theory, weapons theory, anatomy, the science of projectiles, history, and so on. Every spare moment he would tell his son these things, it became all he ever said to the infant. By age two the child was truly pushed to read, succeeding and moving on to decoding messages. By that same time, James was an ANBU operative and working in the T & I department extracting information from enemy ninja.

Minato disapproved, James was allowing no time for Harry to be a child. Hell! He had Harry memorizing ways to kill people when he was still wearing diapers, granted they were the ones that allowed for easy potty-training but still…

Whenever Minato would contest James's treatment, he would remind Minato that someone would find them eventually. And when that happened, the people that could come here could devastate Konoha with a few flicks of the wrist.

Minato knew how destructive magic could be, and so those words weighed heavily upon Minato's mind. What if wizards did find a way to come here? If it was those Death Eaters, Konoha was not safe. The guards would not be able to sense magic; they would think the travelers were harmless civilians that forgot their papers. The next thing any of them would know, the village would be ablaze with fiendfrye, and Minato doubted the Sharingan would be any help against that, even if the Uchiha was capable of controlling Amateratsu.

Wizards may be physically weak and easy to kill, but some of their spells could topple towns, and should a ninja be unlucky or too slow, those spells could kill them. Those were the thoughts that made him grin and bear Harry's lost chance at being a child. It would be best for the country if no one knew of Potter Harry or Potter James. It would be best for the village if both of them could handle themselves. It would be best…

Today was another blow to Minato's conscience. Harry was bribed into training with new foods, with stories of his mother, with new experiences he should have had by now. Had the boy ever had a sweet before? Would Harry ever have a sweet? Would Harry ever get to experience a world beyond training and killing? Would he ever know his real name?

It was for the best…It was for the best…It…was…for…the…best…for the best…. But it was wrong, it was horribly wrong.


Harry was crying. The leaf fell off while he was swimming a half mile in the river that ran behind their house. How was he supposed to keep the leaf on with such strong water currents? He had maintained his chakra but the leaf still fell off. He finished his half mile and pulled himself on shore. He cried, even though he wasn't supposed to, he cried.

He found all of the bells, having to go underneath the house and onto the room for most of them (the roof was also rigged). He had pulled all of the weeds out of the garden along with a few small trees growing where they shouldn't have been, and he was fairly positive his father planted the majority of those weeds the night before. He had balanced the checkbook, decoded the missives, found the rice, found his vitamins and took them, completed the throwing obstacle course within the time limit (twice), as well as ran through the normal obstacle course in record time. He had successfully monitored his cousin's work progress and would flick his ear if he started to goof off (as instructed by his father), without alerting the Hokage-in-training to his presence. He filled out his anatomy worksheets, and he aced all the tests his father left him to take over Harry's free reading material (topics ranging from weapons to jutsus to history). He had successfully picked Jiraiya's book from his cousin's pocket so it wouldn't distract the man, and then burned it in secret (also as instructed). Harry successfully treaded water for a half hour and ran a mile in the water without the leaf falling off. He had ten items left on the list and the leaf fell off while he was swimming! Ten items left!

He was angry with himself, he let down his father, and now he wouldn't be rewarded. He didn't care so much about the food, he cared more about the stories he could have heard. He wanted to hear about his mother, he wanted to know what she looked like, what her name was, what her personality was like. He lost that chance today and he had been working so hard the last two days.

Shaking his head, and wiping at the tears in determination, Harry got to his feet. He plucked a leaf from one of the bushes nearby and stuck it to his forehead, and began circulating his chakra to keep the foliage in place. He would finish the list, and he would get started by cleaning up the tripped confetti traps.


"You completed your tasks without the leaf falling?" James was impressed, behind his ANBU mask his mouth began to twitch up at the corners.

Harry had his head bowed, he shook his head slowly, his face flushed with shame, "It fell when I was swimming," he explained in his inarticulate way with his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

James tilted his son's chin back, and locked eyes with his son. He then ran through all the boy had done the last two days. He was still impressed. He had thought the boy would have lost control of his chakra during the night. Dinner at the restaurant was out though; Minato and Kakashi had been spoiling Harry with ramen, fruit, and other non-bland foods. The upside to this was that now he could use those as bribes too.

"I suppose I should commend you for your perseverance," whether Harry knew what that word meant or not, he did not show it. "You get one question," the corners of James's mouth twitched upwards at the sudden brightness in his son's eyes. It reminded him of Lily when he would get her a new charms book, her eyes would light up at the opportunity to learn something more.

"Do you have a picture of mommy?" Harry's green eyes were so wide and hopeful; it saddened James to have to do this.

"I do," he replied shortly, his hand gravitating toward his ANBU breastplate unconsciously. It was a picture of Lily reading in front of the living room window at Godric's Hallow. Eventually she would look up at the camera and smile and wave slightly before going back to her book. He loved that picture so much, he carried it with him always.

"Where is it?" the boy asked, sad that his father had not presented it to him.

"It's always with me," he explained before cutting his son's following request off, "And you may not see it today, perhaps when you've earned another question. At least next time you will know how to phrase your questions better," in truth, the only reason he was not showing it to his son was because it was a wizarding picture, a moving picture. How would he explain a moving picture?

"Oh…" Harry turned away. The leaf fell from his forehead and to the ground as the four-year-old made his way to his bedroom.


Where the hell was it?! James patted himself down for a second time, yet he could not feel the stiff stock of a photo anywhere on his person. He had it when he left the house this morning, or perhaps he forgot it in his pillow?

Despite his frantic thoughts, James was completely calm on the outside; even his pat down seemed like the action one casually does to remember where they placed their keys. The only indication he was upset was the slight decrease in the time between breaths.

Closing his eyes, he thought back on the day. He spied on some Mist ninja traveling through Konoha, no apparent plans to attack were overheard; he lectured Harry and gave him a test over all the skills he had been learning lately, and then they had a bland dinner. Harry gave him a hug before going off to his room to read…usually Harry would have come out and gotten himself ready for bed. James told him to start dressing himself shortly after his third birthday, if Harry was to be a ninja he should know how to care for himself.

Shaking his head in disbelief, James made his way silently toward his son's room. He pushed chakra through his feet to soften the sound of his footfalls, and slowly slid open the door after placing a silencing charm on it with a discreet wave of his wand.

As the ANBU expected, his son was staring down at a faded thick piece of paper, a lost expression adorned his face. Closing the door, and proceeding to take off the charm, James moved to stand behind his son. The boy was too focused on the picture to have noticed the stick his father had waved around before placing in his vest.

There Lily was, smiling at the camera, waving, then turning back to the book. "Daddy, why is it moving?" green eyes never left the picture, yet the boy still knew James was in the room.

"Because it's a special picture," silence reigned, but it was comfortable. Both of them were lost in the picture, emotions Harry had never experienced burned in his chest and placed pressure behind his eyes, as for James, he knew what these emotions were.

Finally turning away and somehow managing to stay dry-eyed, he spoke to the room in an indifferent manner, "You took it when you hugged me, didn't you?" out of the corner of his eyes, James saw his son shake his head, eyes still transfixed on the picture.

"During the test, I took it instead of the bell," Harry explained, thus causing the ANBU to recall the exact moment his son was referring to. He had caught Harry retracting his arm, it was empty…but the sleeve of his shirt looked like it was hiding a card or, as it turned out, a picture.

James exhaled in amusement, and he called himself an ANBU. He stood up and took the photo back, plucking it from his son's loose hold. The child looked up at him weakly; his eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I'd rather it didn't get damaged," it was a cold statement, one which hurt, as seen by the minute flinch Harry made.

"Okay," Harry whispered softly, as he looked down at his lap. Harry was a child after all, and he did not blame his father treating him as such when it came to something as precious as that picture. Harry had seen some of the children in the neighborhood from the garden. Those children were always covered in dirt and broke their toys; they fell down a lot too, and cried often. Harry would never trust his special things with them, it just hurt to be categorized as one of those destructive kids.


Harry was woken by a warm presence behind him. He wondered what his father was doing in his room, having subconsciously sensed his presence as soon as he had entered the bedroom, but he did not know with what intention his father came.

Harry's body was sore from today's training and his mind was heavy with sleep, he did not think he could complete a midnight test. His father did that on occasion, it was to evaluate his alertness upon waking, could his son survive a sudden surprise attack, could his mind work when it was still shaking away the fog of sleep?

However, James had done nothing but slip under the covers and hold Harry. What was the purpose behind this?

"Daddy?" James interpreted the sleepy question as "why are you here?"

"You were having a bad dream," he whispered, his eyes closed as he took in his son's scent. In actuality, it was he who had the bad dream.

"No I wasn't," Harry yawned, his eyes still closed as he snuggled into his pillow and blankets.

"Yes you were, you were having a nightmare," James reassured, lying through his teeth.

"I think you had the bad dream," Harry murmured sleepily.

"I never have bad dreams," James replied, bringing his son closer to him, reassuring himself that the boy was there.

"You're lying," Harry whispered as nestled into his pillow in an attempt to become comfortable in his new place on the bed.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're voice wavered," Harry replied simply, it was minute, but the waver had been there. James frowned slightly and propped himself onto one arm to look at his son before he slipped into the young sleep addled mind. However, he felt something pushing him out. Beside him, Harry was squirming, his face scrunched up. Was Harry…? No! Could Harry sense the mental intrusion?

"Daddy, stop it," Harry whined, finally opening his green eyes to look up at his father with an annoyed expression, "'m tired!"

James smiled his slight smile, and hugged the boy as he moved him to rest on his chest. Harry was too tired to complain and so began to wriggle around until he was comfortable. It was hard to accomplish with his father's unyielding body. They were also lying diagonally on the bed, for it was the only way James could lay out on the mattress "fully", of course his feet still dangled off the end.

"What was it about?" Harry mumbled. His eyes were closed while his father stroked his hair gently.

"I dreamed the Bad Man," that was what James referred to Voldemort as when he talked to Harry, "found us and he took you away. He did many awful things to you until…until he killed you" James moved his arms to hold onto his son tightly. "He could do it too, Son, that's why I've been training you," James whispered softly.

"I know, Daddy," Harry whispered in reply, his breathing began to even out with sleep.

The next morning Harry was by himself in his bed. Perhaps he and imagined… but his sheets smelled like his father. Harry understood, and it made his chest ache and his eyes sting. Why did he always do this? His father always did these contradicting actions and it was confusing. His father cared about him, of course, but it was often difficult to tell. But that was his life, and Harry was already resigned to it.


"Put on your shoes," James ordered after Harry skidded into to the entrance way with his shoes in hand.

"We're really going into to town?" Harry had only been away from the neighborhood a handful of times, and usually his father would pick him up and…and teleport them there. To Harry it felt like he was being compressed and sucked up through a straw.

"Not if you're shoes aren't on" James's threat was cut off by the child's blurred movements as Harry put on his shoes, "Now we will be going to town," James locked the door behind them before activating some of the wards around their home.

The father decided to test his son's speed, and so challenged the boy to stay up with him as they ran to the market district. Considering his son's gait, the child kept up pretty well, however, he was panting when they came to their stop on a roof overseeing the market.

"We'll have to work more on your endurance," James commented as he crouched down and surveyed the civilians. He soon pointed out an elderly woman buying fish.

"How old is she?" Harry blinked at his father owlishly, how was he supposed to know that? "Look at her and tell me," James commanded in his customary monotone.

Harry watched the woman as she bought her fish, if he was to guess, he'd say she was seventy. But it was clear his father wasn't looking for a guess. Harry narrowed his gaze, the question was repeating in his mind over and over.

Suddenly he was seeing many things, memories that weren't his own. They were this woman's memories and they flooded past his eyes until landing on one that would provide the information he desired. It was the woman's tenth birthday, a calendar was conveniently placed behind her. Doing the math, he gave his answer with confidence, "Seventy-two,"

"Very good, now that girl there, what did her father say to her yesterday to make her sad?"

Again, Harry focused on his target and the memories came rushing past him. "He was going off on a three month peace mission in Iwa," Harry whispered, this felt wrong…seeing into someone else's mind.

"You have inherited our clan's ability," James explained, and rested a hand on his son's shoulder, "think of it as a far superior version of the Yamanaka clan's jutsus,"

Harry nodded slowly, uncomfortable that he could see into someone else's mind so easily. But if his father could do it too, it made a lot of sense, it explained why he was one of the best interrogators.

"I unknowingly slipped into someone's mind when I was eight, the fact that you were able to slip into someone's mind now…" there was that light in his father's eyes. "You are a prodigy," Harry bowed his head, part of him felt warm from the compliment but another part of him felt sick.

"Once you can enter another's mind with a glance we will begin your mental resistance training. The mind can be very vulnerable, susceptible to petty emotions and willing to spill all of its secrets at the slightest bit of pain. It will also want to escape you once it is open, and that will drive you mad unless you are properly trained" James was looking off at the skyline as he spoke in his emotionless way. Harry needed to be protected from legilimens and his own mind. Should a legilimens appear and James was away on a mission, he would not have to worry about Harry slipping any information to them unknowingly.

Harry nodded again, unsure what else he could do. He knew his father was trying to protect him, but he was…he was afraid of what the following months would bring. He would turn five soon and for some reason…he was dreading it.


"Happy Birthday," his father had that same kind tone he used with Harry the year before. James picked up his son, and set him against his hip. The child still seemed wary of James's uncharacteristic gentleness. But he was glad his son was suspicious, even though he knew Lily would be shaking her head at him…if she was still here.

Harry pecked at his food uncertainly, it was the same as last year but there was fresh fruit to eat too. It was all very good, but Harry felt uneasy. He could look at people and see into their minds without thinking, would that mean they'd start this mental resistance training? His head also felt funny now, and being around anyone other than his father was disorienting.

"Daddy?" James looked over at his son, his marginal smile was in place, "What else can our clan do?" there was a slight furrow in the five-year-old's brow.

"We can harm a person's mind, and we can keep people from our memories by directing them to our mindscape. From there we can hide our memories and thoughts from them," James explained in his usual monotone, but there was a slight lecturing edge to his words. Though, if James was to be truthful, the latter part of what he said was occlumency, not their clan's abilities.

"Are you finished?" James asked, having eaten his own breakfast.

Harry nodded slowly, his stomach was in knots.

"Why don't we go train?" Harry nodded slowly again and got up from the table with his father to clean their plates. What kind of training would they do today?

His father had him work on his endurance through a game of tag, tag through the training grounds and James being the one chased. Harry had not wanted to disappoint his father, and so he pushed himself as far as his little body could go. Not once did he stop to get water, despite the sweltering heat. He had to prove himself.

However, when Harry passed out from overexertion, heat, and dehydration, James was cursing himself. He apparated his son back to their house before he began to rummage through the medical supplies.

What did one do for those ailments? With a sigh, he placed his canteen, enchanted to never run out of water, next to his unconscious son on the coffee-table which was in front of the couch. Retrieving his wand from his vest, James woke his son up with a mumbled "Rennervate" before hiding his wand back in his Jōnin vest, which was considered his "leisure" clothes.

Harry looked around blearily, and was ready to fall back into unconsciousness. His head ached and he was so tired.

"Drink" James commanded as he pushed his canteen closer to his son. However, the boy felt boneless, and only managed to drop his arm onto the table. Sighing in irritation, unbeknownst to Harry it was directed at James himself, James propped his son against him and tipped the canteen toward the boy's mouth.

When Harry seemed full from the water he drank, James set the canteen back on the table. What was he to do now? Should he call Minato? It would only give the Hokage-in-training another opportunity to insult his parenting methods. He could ask Kushina to take care of the boy until he was better, though he didn't want her personality to rub off on Harry.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, his head was bowed in shame. He was so weak! He couldn't do anything his father asked of him correctly. He was a failure.

James looked away from his son, his eyes were closed tightly. It was his fault, he pushed the boy too far, and he should have been paying better attention. It was his fault the boy passed out on his own birthday, James should have been more observant.

"It doesn't matter," James rose from his seat and grabbed the bag of lily seeds he kept by the door leading to their backyard. Harry flinched when his father closed said door with a little more force than necessary. Would he ever be able to please his father?


A suivre


A/N: here's something I couldn't find space for but it is needed for later. This is unbeta'ed so forgive the spelling and grammatical mistakes. Without further adue:

James looked down at the child in the crib. He would not let harm come to ever again, he had failed once and now he would do everything in his power to never do so again. He looked down at the forehead protector in his hand; it glinted in the faint light coming from the window. He would protect his son, and he would make sure his son could protect himself. His son would not make the same mistakes James did, his son would fast enough to never be touched and to always be fast enough to protect his precious people.

Then a thought occurred to James and he inhaled sharply. What if his son was injured and medics couldn't make it in time? What if he was poisoned on a mission? James's breathing quickened and his chest constricted at the thought. There were so many things that could happen in the line of duty, and the only way to ensure his son was strong enough when the wizards came was through becoming a shinobi.

James had parted ways from Minato some time ago and he was still angered by what his nephew had said, but he couldn't be brash even in his resolve. His son would be strong but he needed protection. Licking his lips, James knew what he had to do.

He quickly summoned his summons, and it felt so good to do so after such a long time. The raven had appeared and it looked at him curiously but recognition lit up its sharp eyes. The bird lazy flew over to the crib and peered down at the baby before it looked over at its summoner. "If he wakes get Minato," James stated, his voice was rough.

James then ran through the incantation and with a flash of light and a puff of smoke he was gone from the nursery. The raven stared after his summoner and sighed. The little one had changed so much; he remembered when the little chick had first summoned him. He was such a free spirit, and was meant for the air. The little James hand danced around his nephew who had a little toad beside him. The raven knew his little summoner had signed the contract because he was jealous of his nephew and had made his nephew teach him the basics of summoning. The little chick had won the raven over with his attitude and his love of heights, but now the raven saw very little of his young summoner in the man who had just disappeared. The raven looked down at the hatchling in the crib and vowed to watch over the babe while James was off wherever he was.

James appeared in Godric's Hollow, slightly winded from the travel but he was on a mission. He tried not to look around him, he tried not to think of the memories the place conjured up. He steeled his resolve and quickly moved to the cupboard under the stairs.

However, he did not move fast enough, for he was floored by a memory of Lily dancing with their newborn Harry in the living room. He had joined her and the three of them swayed back in forth together as a family.

James choked back his tears and moved more quickly toward the cupboard, he kicked up ash in his haste. It was painful to see his and Lily's home burned and destroyed as it was. He closed his eyes for a moment to hold back the tears and successfully came to the cupboard. He was dismayed to see a support beam had fallen through the stairs and coincidentally crushed half of the boxes in the cupboard. Lily's Christmas decorations she had gotten when her parents had passed on were destroyed, pieces of glass balls were scattered over everything else, and were blackened slightly by ash and fire.

James took a deep breath and pushed through his emotions, he couldn't let them debilitate him. He found what he was looking for, a burlap satchel he used at Hogwarts when he and the Marauders went to raid the kitchens. It had and undetectable expansion charm and feather light charm, which made it perfect for what he needed to grab from the house.

James tried not to look at anything else in the cupboard but his eyes caught the half burned photo albums that were just under the fallen support beam. He swallowed thickly and whirled around. However, he was stopped again by a memory of Lily. The bay window; she always sat there and read, he could almost see her there now. But the cushions were burned and the windows had cracked from the heat. It was dark and sordid view now. He hurried toward the cellar door.

This was Lily's room; this was where she researched her charms and potions. He took a deep breath and readied himself. He had seldom gone down there because that was her territory. She loved it down there with her experiments.

James wrenched the door open and was surprised the fire had not touched this part of the house. However, if the fire had not touched this area that meant he would see everything as she would have left it. James forced back his emotions and began his descent; his footsteps echoed on the stone steps and it almost sounded like there were ten people moving toward the cellar.

Once at the bottom of the steps he looked around and sucked in a deep breath. He could see Lily everywhere. Her notes were scattered about the desk at the far wall, some were in piles while others were spread about hazardously across the surface. There were two cauldrons in the cellar, one was already set up, and old potion made the air smell foul, likely the stasis charm had worn off. He used his wand and made the potion remains disappear. The second cauldron as a spare and James quickly shrunk it and put the cauldron in his satchel.

There were two bookcases in the cellar, one had a mixture of ingredients and books on its shelves, while the other was filled with only books. James scanned the spines and a sad smile spread across his lips. Lily organized her books by least interesting to most interesting. He could never understand her organization, for how could potions be more interesting than transfiguration or DADA? He began to chuckle but it quickly died. This was all he had of Lily left, this was all that was left of her little quirks.

He swallowed thickly and quickly grabbed books that looked like they might be useful. One was a potions book on healing potions, and another was on medical charms. He grabbed a few other books for when he would have to teach Harry magic. He wasn't sure what he would do about wands, but perhaps the boy could use his or he could sneak them into the wizarding world when the time came and find Harry his wand. James wasn't sure, and he didn't want to think that far ahead. For now he needed to get things that would ensure Harry's safety in the future.

Licking his lips, James scanned the room again and found Lily's kit of already made potions. He put that into his satchel and began to look at the ingredients on the other bookshelf. He knew the ingredients for a basic blood replenish potion and a cure for poisons, so James grabbed what he could find. He then moved toward the desk, even though he knew he would find nothing there.

He swallowed thickly as he looked down at scattered notes. Lily's handwriting had always been so elegant, like a piece of art. His handwriting was just chicken scratches. His fingers traced one of her looping letters. His eyes then looked at the pictures on her desk. One was of their wedding and the other photo was from Harry's first birthday. James swallowed again and took a step back from the desk.

He had everything he needed. He couldn't stay any longer. James reached the top of the cellar staircase and moved through a simple katon jutsu. He did not want to use magic lest wizards trace it back to him, but he also could not leave evidence of someone having been there. As he watched the fire consume the cellar he closed his eyes and began to go through the incantation. It was time to leave this world behind; it was time to get back to his son.