Author's Note: Heard something about not being allowed to answer reviews in chapters so I guess I won't be doing that today. I promised plot, yes? Well I hope I delivered! Oh and sorry the update took so long. Busy busy busy ...

Life Swap

Chapter Six
In the Headmaster's Office

"Are you okay, James?" Sirius asked Harry, who had just stumbled out of the Great Hall thoroughly disoriented.

Harry had gone around all throughout breakfast trying to match names to descriptions to faces and judging by everyone's reactions, he wasn't doing too well at it.

"I'm okay," Harry said. "Just … just a bit of a headache is all."

"Still?" Lupin asked, the familiar frown furrowing his forehead. "Maybe you should go back to the hospital wing, James … "

"Look," Harry said, with an indignant tone that he figured James would have, "I'm fine. Stop worrying about me, I'm all right. It'll take more than a Bludger to shake James Potter." I wish, Harry added in his thoughts.

Lupin shrugged as if to say, I give up, do what you like and Harry nodded in thanks.

"Brace yourselves, boys," Sirius said. "We've got Slughorn next."

Wormtail groaned. "I hate that guy! Talk about playing favorites … I mean, it's not like Evans has any connections, she's not even pure-blood, but she still - "

"Hey," Remus interrupted sharply. "Careful what you say, Peter." Peter looked at him fearfully, just realizing what he said.

Harry glared at Peter, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Sirius chuckled uncomfortably and put his arm around Peter's shoulders, "You forget that James here's got a little soft spot in his heart for Ms. Evans," he said. "Don't you, James?"

Harry didn't say anything. What could he say? The girl, woman, whatever, was his mother. Gross. All he did was turn red. Fortunately for him, this was an expected reaction.

Still, as he entered the classroom last, behind Pettigrew, Harry had to fight the urge to punch something – particularly the back of Wormtail's head. Had the slimeball not just implied that Harry's mother wasn't worthy of recognition from a teacher?

Slightly steaming, Harry took his place in a desk beside Sirius and in front of Lupin, near the back of the classroom. Peering around the head of a girl with shockingly curly black hair, Harry saw a girl with vibrant red hair sitting in the very front row with her books, parchments, quill, and ink out and all ready to go. Harry grinned to himself as he was reminded of Hermione. Sighing, he wondered when he would see Hermione again, as well as Ron and his own brilliantly red hair.

Slughorn lectured for a few moments then set them off to brew their potions. Harry paired up with Lupin and Sirius partnered with Pettigrew, because quite frankly, Pettigrew needed help.

Harry was so out of it as he worked with young Lupin on the potion that once again, Lupin's forehead furrowed with worry and told Harry to leave the brewing up to him today. Harry was not sorry, and he was, in fact, grateful that Lupin did not bring this up with Sirius and Wormtail during break.

Harry spent the rest of the day trying to regain his balance in a world that seemed to spin on a whole different axis than his. He didn't know any of James' friends or teachers, nor did he have all of James' skill in spell casting. Harry walked the halls, not talking much, dwelling on the fact that he'd have to perform much better to keep up with James Potter's reputation.

Harry skipped lunch to go to the library and read up on Gypsy ginger root, which he knew nothing about but what they were going to cover in Herbology that day. On his way there, Harry bumped into none other than the red haired, green-eyed Lily Evans.

"Potter!" she cried out in dismay as the contents of her bag scattered across the corridor.

"Sorry!" Harry apologized at once, kneeling down to help gather Lily's belongings.

"Ugh," she said in disgust. She waved her wand at the mess and which neatly regained composure and flew into her bag.

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I was under the impression that magic was forbidden outside of class."

"And?" Lily said, closing her bag.

"And you're a prefect," Harry said, his grin getting a bit wider. Perhaps his father wasn't the only person from whom Harry inherited his "disregard for rules."

"Oh shove it, Potter," Lily said indignantly. "You're one to talk! Honestly, I don't understand why so many people think you're so special."

Harry laughed – when was the last time anyone had said that to him? Other than Malfoy of course, but pricks didn't count.

"What's so funny?" the impatient girl said.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said. "I was just thinking that more people should chew gum."

"Excuse me?" Lily asked, confused.

"Because," Harry continued, smiling, "if James Potter saw what happened to over-inflated bubbles more often, he might not want to inflate his own any more."

Lily stared at him, and then her eyes narrowed. "Okay," she said, "who are you and what have you done to Potter?"

Harry just smiled and turned in the direction of the library.
James burst out into the entrance hall. He'd had just about enough of what he could take of talk of Death Eaters and … and … V … Volde … Voldemort. He'd have to get used to saying that name. Apparently, Harry did it regularly.

He'd had just about as much Death Eater and Defense Against the Dark Arts conversation to last him the rest of his life – assuming he still had one. Giving some stupid excuse to Ron and Hermione, he left the Great Hall to think.

Wondering what he should do in the spare fifteen minutes he had given himself, he decided he might as well prepare for lessons and headed up towards the dormitories. He had about ten more minutes of respite before he had to become Harry again.

Ron entered the dormitory to find James lying facedown on his four-poster bed looking distinctly miserable. James heard him come in and groaned into the pillow. Ron took this as a muffled sort of greeting.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, "we've got Slughorn in five minutes. I know you're in his little club, but I can't afford to be late."

"What?" James asked indignantly. "I'm in the Slug Club? Well not if I can help it!"

"Hell," Ron said, "You know Slughorn won't drop you – you're Harry Potter; he's not about to give up on you."

James grunted and picked up his bag. His son was in the Slug Club, among all the little brownnosers who thought they were just so clever. All of them were so full of themselves that James could hardly stand it.

But then again, Lily Evans was in the Slug Club … but that was different. She was actually that clever.

James and Ron stepped into the classroom just as the bell rang and took their seats on either side of Hermione. Today they were just taking notes, not brewing so James prepared himself for two hours of boredom. At the moment, James didn't quite care about note taking and was quite content on slouching in his seat and doodling.

James only realized that he was drawing a snitch with an L in it and was about to add another heart with a J when he saw Hermione looking at his parchment. Thank god he hadn't written the J yet. He quickly crossed the heart out and began taking notes and Hermione smiled smugly and returned to her own notes.

James watched himself more carefully in Charms and received compliments from Professor Flitwick on his, Harry's, improvement. James could only deduce that Harry was an E student in charms instead of an O student – but that didn't mean much.

And then lunch. James spent most of the time wishing that Ron and Hermione didn't discuss things like Death Eater attacks and the Cain murders.

Finally he got fed up and said, "Look, can we talk about something else?"

Ron blinked and Hermione frowned. James flushed and felt the need to explain himself. He opened his mouth to speak but Hermione interrupted.

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot. I mean, it's never been a problem before but recently … things've changed, haven't they? Sorry," she said again.

James didn't know what to say to he just shrugged and said, "That's all right."

The rest of lunch was spent talking about Quidditch and bagging on Snape. This led to bagging on Slughorn, which led to a discussion about somebody that Ron and Hermione called "Prince" as they exited the Great Hall.

Apparently, Harry was following the notes out of a students' old textbook that knew a lot more about Potions than the rest of them.

Ron and Hermione were still arguing as they passed Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister as James recalled, and one of her friends. One of them, a girl with dark brown hair and rather pretty, looked at James with an expression that read distinctly of pain and anger.

Ron and Hermione waved at them in a passing greeting. James looked away from the dark haired girl and kept walking, hoping that Harry didn't know her as well as it felt like he did.

"What?" Hermione snapped at James. "Liz and you aren't talking anymore?"

"Lay off, Hermione," Ron said. "The boy just got rejected."

"It's more than that," Hermione insisted. "But neither you nor Liz is talking about it. What happened?"

James shrugged as they reached the classroom. Hell if I know, James thought as he opened the door.

Harry crossed the grounds to the castle with Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew, feeling a little better now that he had only one last class to survive. After that, he had to book the Quidditch field for practice, finish his, or rather, James' essay, and then help the Marauders with the preparations for the next full moon. Harry could tell that the moon was nearing because Remus was looking awfully worn and tired.

Harry, Sirius, and Pettigrew waved good-bye to Remus as he left for the hospital wing.

"You feel better now," Sirius said with an exaggerated wink.

Remus rolled his eyes, but grinned. "See you later. I don't suppose I can trust you to take notes for me in King's class?"

"As usual, Remus," Harry said returning the grin, "no, not really." Harry was pretty sure that his father never would have bothered taking notes in class.

Remus sighed in mock sadness and headed off. Harry and the rest started down the corridor in the opposite direction.

They entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, followed closely by Severus Snape. Harry couldn't help smiling to himself; he wouldn't have to call Snape "sir" anymore – he could even call him Snivellus if he wanted. Harry concealed his grin behind a book as Professor King entered the classroom.

Harry found the class refreshing, as he had spent the last seven months being taught by Snape. Even though the git was in the class, Harry found it quite easy to ignore him and work in peace – a short interlude that ended when the bell rang.

Outside of the classroom, Harry paused to put his book back into his bag. Sirius waited impatiently, tapping his foot and looking around.

"What?" Harry said irritably at the rush. He looked around as well and saw Snape. Then he looked at Sirius and saw the eager look on his face. Realizing the connection, Harry almost groaned out loud.

"Time for some fun," Sirius said cheerily, and before Harry could stop him, he called out, "Hey, Snivellus!"

Snape stopped cold in his tracks. Harry sighed and tried to think of something, but to no avail. All he could do was reach for his wand. If Sirius chose to pick a fight, Harry would have no choice but to join in. He cringed slightly when he remembered some of the things he had seen in Snape's mind, and in the Pensieve.

"Potter!"

Harry looked around. There was his mother, who was glaring at them all through narrowed eyes.

"Yes?" Harry answered her, sounding tired.

"What are you doing?" she said. All of them, including Snape, turned to look at her. Peter's expression was attempting one of innocence, Sirius a look of ease, and Snape's expression took the form of loathing.

"Nothing," Harry answered.

"Yet," she corrected him. "In any case," she continued, "you won't be doing anything mischievous for a bit. Professor Dumbledore wants you." She shoved a piece of parchment into Harry's hand.

"What'd you do, James?" Sirius said, snatching the piece of parchment. "And why didn't you include me?"

Harry snatched the paper back, taking Sirius by surprise. Without apologizing, Harry hitched his bag up a little higher and said he had to go. After seeing the stunned, and slightly hurt looks on Sirius' face he added a friendly, "See you!" before running off down the corridor.

Once Harry had turned the corner he opened the note and in those familiar curvy letters he read that Dumbledore had apparently made a breakthrough.

To avoid being asked more awkward, or rather unanswerable, questions, James decided to take the time in Binn's (who was, to James' great surprise, now a ghost) class to catch up on his sleep, with the secret hope that he could wake up in the next hour or so to find out that this had all been a dream.

About halfway through the class, a messenger was sent into the classroom to get Harry Potter. Of course, James Potter was still asleep and he ignored the many proddings he received in an effort to wake him when he would like nothing better than to reenter the dream he had been having (Lily was flying with him on his broomstick). Eventually, he sat up and gave such a loud, "What!" that Binn's himself looked away from his beloved chalkboard. Next thing James knew he had a summons from Dumbledore, was packing his stuff, and heading out into the corridor.

He sleepily navigated through the halls and groggily delivered the password to the office gargoyle ("Sleep much?" it asked). Still yawning, he found himself in Dumbledore's office.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, standing up from behind his desk, coming forward to greet James. "Well Mr. Potter, it seems I may be able to find out the reason why you are here."

That certainly woke James up.

Flushed and out of breath, Harry reached Dumbledore's office.

"Gibble Gobbles," he said urgently to the gargoyle.

"Run much?" the gargoyle asked Harry as it leapt aside.

Ignoring it, Harry entered the Headmaster's office with great enthusiasm.

It looked very much like it still did. The old Headmasters were snoozing, or at least appeared to be sleeping, in their portraits, the silver instruments on the spindly tables, Fawkes upon his perch (and beginning to molt a bit), and Dumbledore's presence itself was familiar and comfortable. But home for Harry was still decades away.

"You sent for me, Professor?" Harry said presently, trying not to sound too impatient.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Have a seat," he said, conjuring a chair in front of his desk for Harry.

Once Harry sat down, Dumbledore began his explanation. "I have given a great deal of thought to your current situation, Harry, and as unusual and unique it must be, I could not imagine that James' own situation, your father's predicament, could not be less so."

"My father?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore responded, nodding. "James Potter."

"What about him, though?" Harry asked. He was slightly disappointed; he had thought that Dumbledore had found a way for him to get back into his own body.

"Well," Dumbledore said patiently, "seeing as how you are occupying his body, one has to wonder … " Dumbledore paused. "One has to wonder where he went."

"Ah," was all Harry could say. He hadn't given any thought to that.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, moving to one of the spindly tables and picking up a silver instrument. "I tried something, and I'm sure it worked," he said, putting the instrument down on the desk. "However, it does not make sense to me. Perhaps, though, it will make some sense to you."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Harry said, "but if you can't figure it out, how can I?"

"You may know more about yourself, or about your father, than I do Harry," Dumbledore said. "It's that simple. But here, let's try it first, see if anything jumps out at you … " the Headmaster waved his wand at the strange object.

Harry had seen something similar to this last school year, at Christmas. The instrument that Dumbledore had used then projected the images of snakes with smoke. Then, he had known what those snakes meant. But Harry was sure that he did not know what the snake in this smoke projection meant; as it had last Christmas, Harry was now sure that the snake was symbolic of him.

The smoke snake looked peaceful for a while, twisting lazily in midair, before suddenly a new smoke figure appeared and formed a cloud over the snake … and suddenly a thunderbolt erupted from the cloud and the image went hazy and started spinning, forming a miniature tornado over Dumbledore's desk.

"It continues," Dumbledore said. "Keep watching."

The smoke tornado was slowing and a new figure appeared; a stag. The tornado still had not stopped, and it was revolving both the snake and the stag, then quite suddenly, both animals blanched, darkened, and slowly regained their natural smokey texture.

Then the smoke cleared.

"Well?" Dumbledore asked, after a time. "Do you know what it means?"

Harry swallowed. "What it means is that while I'm in my dad's body … he's in mine."

Dumbledore gazed at Harry for a moment with those piercing eyes. Then he cleared his throat.

"And the mystery deepens," he said. "Where we expected to find answers, we only meet another question."

"And what question is that, Professor?" Harry said.

"The question, dear boy," Dumbledore said, "is why?"

Silence.

"Bloody hell," Harry sighed.

"Well Mr. Potter, it seems I may be able to find out the reason why you are here."

"I'm all ears, Professor," James said eagerly.

"You must be aware of the danger, though, James," Dumbledore said gravely, "of me giving you information of the future."

James nodded.

"However, and exception in this case must be made," Dumbledore said. "I have to put the future in danger, to save the past and ensure that the present will be preserved."

James blinked.

"About ten years into your future, when you and your wife are about twenty-five years old, circumstances led up to an occasion where I found myself having to ask the both of you this question … " Dumbledore hesitated, still torn about having to relay this information to a sixteen-year-old James Potter. "I asked you how many times you had faced Voldemort and lived."

James' eyes widened. Dumbledore continued.

"I already knew your wife had reached the magic number three, but as far as I knew, you had only met Voldemort twice when I asked you that question. None other but two times in the past could I ever remember you facing that danger. You however, could remember three.

"I then asked you how you could remember something I could not, and you answered that I could recall the past better than most, but you could remember the future. I never had the opportunity to ask you to elaborate, but I assume this is what you were speaking of."

Silence filled the office.

James gulped. "So what you're saying is," he said slowly, hardly daring to believe that he was about to utter this sentence, "is that in order to get back to my time, in my body, the task I have to complete … I have to face V-Vol-Voldemort … and win?"

Dumbledore looked at James with those piercing eyes and said grimly, "Precisely."

Silence.

"Bloody hell," James said.

Author's Note: So how'd you like it everyone? Review please!