Chapter Three

Prongs

As James picked his wand up, both he and Lily turned on their heels and they felt the compression and spinning of Apparation. With a small pop! They appeared right outside of an apartment door, worn and beaten down.

Lily, who still had tears streaming down her face and seemed to be in denial, choked out, "Should—should we knock?"

James felt even more tears threaten to overcome him—if Remus was gone…no, he couldn't think about that. He knocked three times and, pausing, added forth. The Marauder knock. He gripped her hand, waiting to see what would meet them.

Whatever Sirius was expecting, it wasn't this.

After he finished his letter to Hedwig, he, tentatively, it seemed, he heard a:

Knock-ka-knock-ka-knock.

Knock.

Sirius froze. That was the Marauder knock. Something James did, so you could tell the difference between teachers (who knocked three times) and Marauders. But Moony was in the back room, and he hadn't heard him Apparate out, and Wormtail wouldn't be stupid enough to come here, and Prongs was—no, don't think about it. Just a coincidence, Sirius reassured himself. Tons of people knocked like that. Heck, it probably was just the milkman.

Rubbing his eyes and cursing himself at his freeze, he opened the door.

Whatever Sirius was expecting, it wasn't this.

Standing in front of him were James and Lily Potter, alive and well, their robes torn to shreds and their faces glistening with tears. Sirius shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Some sort of after-effect of Azkaban, he supposed, or he was finally going insane. But, sure enough, after he opened his eyes again, the Potters were standing there clear as day.

No, that couldn't be true. James was dead. And it was his fault. This was obviously some half-brained Death Eater scheme cooked up by Wormtail to play with his affections. No doubt the James-and-Lily-look-alikes would bring him to Voldemort to be killed the second he let them in or whatever.

"Padfoot?" the James-look-alike asked.

Sirius growled. How dare he call him that! Anger rushed through his veins and red clouded his vision. He drew his wand (barrowed wand from Grimmauld Place, whatever) and pointed it at 'James'' neck, slamming him into the wall behind.

"I don't care whatever sick evil bastard you work for Wormtail, but this just cruel!" his hand curled around 'James' neck.

"What do you mean?" 'James' rasped. "I'm James, your best friend! Your brother in everything but blood!"

"James Potter has been dead for thirteen years!" shouted Sirius. "I don't care how much you make him look like James Potter, Wormtail, but he isn't and you can't fool me! I won't believe you, not anymore!"

"You don't believe me," he wretched, clawing at the hand. "But—believe—Prongs!"

Sirius snorted and loosened his grip a little bit—surely even Peter wasn't this stupid. It was impossible to fake an animagus form—it was completely personal and unique to the person who it was, just like conjuring a patronus.

"Put me down," he insisted, "and I'll prove you wrong."

Sirius slowly let him down and put his hand out for his wand. 'James' fished robes and handed him the wand. With a shock and a growl, Sirius recognized this as James' real wand. So the rat had taken up grave robbing? But he looked at 'James' in the face, but there was no face anymore, there was no human, there was only…

Prongs.

"Moony! MOOONY! HERE! Now!"

Remus woke with a start in his bedroom. It was morning, but still the sun barely cut through the trees…what on earth was Sirius doing up this early? It was probably important, he reasoned, as he grabbed his wand and headed to the front room, where Sirius was standing with…a woman and a deer.

Thinking that this must be completely and utterly a dream, or he was going insane, he came up beside Sirius and gasped. It wasn't just any woman, this woman had brilliant green eyes and fiery red hair, tears streaming out of her eyes, and robes torn to shreds. And the deer was a magnificent stag, with bright hazel eyes and white spots on the belly.

He rubbed his eyes, once, twice, three times; pinched himself a couple more times, but…they were still there.

"Prongs?" he asked hoarsely. "Lily? You're alive?"

But he didn't even need to ask that question, seeing Sirius' completely and utterly blissful expression, or the fact they had the same wands, or that Lily had her head to the side, like she always did when she was crying, or that James (who had changed back) had his glasses crooked like he always did—a trait James passed on to Harry…

Sirius and Remus grabbed them both, sobbing as they wrapped them both in huge hugs, pulling them inside the flat. After thirty minutes of unrelenting sobbing and hugging, everyone got settled on the couches, Remus and Sirius unwilling to stop looking at their formerly dead friends.

Remus and Sirius both felt their eyes water, so much happiness and joy seeing the two there, feeling their hearts swell with happiness and joy like they never had since that fateful night thirteen years ago…oh, Harry would be so happy, a real family at last; Moony and Padfoot both had their real family returned to them, oh, how happy they were, the excitement barely contained as they looked upon those who passed…

"Prongs! Lily! Merlin, this is amazing! You…Harry…Merlin, Harry will be so excited! He'll have a real family again…Merlin, you're back you're actually back! From the dead, no less! Oh, Harry, oh Harry we'll have to tell him right away…" Sirius blabbered on while James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius sat at the kitchen table, each clutching a cup of tea made by Remus' trembling hands; who was pale but grinning like a little kid on Christmas day.

James felt his face harden and chest tighten while he gripped Lily's hand. She stifled a sob and hid her face in her hands.

"Padfoot," Really? James wondered. How does he not know this? "Harry is dead." He managed to force the words out, but it still came out a rasp. He couldn't bear to think…finally, he gave into what he had wanted to ever since he saw his friends-their euphoria may still be going, but after James saw both Remus and Sirius, alive and well, he sank back into the depths of his mind, wandering through memory after memory of his precious Fawn…finally, with gasp, he let out the tears and heartache and pain he had been holding in. He knew, knew in his heart his fawn was beyond his reach.

"He's gone, Padfoot!" James sobbed, burying his head in his arms, stacked on top of the table, "My boy, my fawn, he's gone! It's my fault, all my fault, I swore I protect him, I swore I wouldn't let anything happen to him…Fawn, Fawn he's gone…he's gone, it's all my fault…"

"James…" Sirius' voice cut through the air, he sounded very hesitant, for some reason-James supposed it was that he was dredging up bad memories.

James hesitantly looked up at Sirius, only to find he and Remus wearing identical, unreadable expressions. They exchanged glances, and Remus nodded, just barely visible. Then Sirius said something that hurt worse then the knowledge of his baby boy's death.

"James, Harry's alive."

James glared at his best friend, his brother in all but blood. Why on earth was he doing this? Why would he tell such lies? Maybe…thought the small portion of his brain that was in denial. NO, James smashed that hope right then and there. He saw the house. It couldn't be true; it wasn't true.

"He's gone, Sirius!" Lily snapped, more tears streaming down her face.

"No, he's—" Sirius tried.

"SHUT UP, SIRIUS!" James yelled, standing up. "Our son is gone! Do you hear me? Gone! Why are you doing this? WHAT DO YOU WANT? He is GONE!Harry is GONE! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"I swear, I'm telling the truth! I swear, I'm—" It was too late. Sirius backed up. Fury and anger were boiling inside of James; his insides consumed with grief—the boy, his son, who he loved more than even Lily was gone forever. James couldn't bear to say it one more time, he couldn't figure out why Sirius was doing this, and he lifted his wand, preparing to curse him, when Sirius shoved something in his face.

James snatched the paper, which Sirius had shoved in his face, out of the air. He crumpled it into his fist and shoved Sirius into the corner, grabbed at his friends' throat, completely consumed by errant grief and rage when—

"Read—it—" Sirius gasped. "Read—it—please—"

The pleading in Sirius' voice made James halt. Still furious, but anger abated with curiosity, he uncrumpled the paper. It was a letter, and James started read:

Dear Sirius,

Thanks for your last letter. The bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window.

Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going to well.

James frowned, 'Dudley' sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn't know where to place it…

My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.

I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you'll turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to.

James almost dropped the letter in utter shock…it couldn't be, it couldn't…'Dursley' had to be a common last name, it had to…

A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. The last was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt afterward?

I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.

Harry

P.S. If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets to the Quidditch World Cup!

James felt tears streaming down his face, his finger tracing the word 'Harry' over and over again…there was no doubt about it, his son was alive, his son was alive…

But he frowned, his son was a year old, he couldn't write…

"James?" asked Lily, her voice hoarse from crying.

James wordlessly shoved the letter into her; as Lily read it her expression turned from confusion and apprehension into shock and joy and then back into confusion. She looked up to face James with utter happiness and shock.

"See, James?" James spun around to face Remus. "Your son's alive. Harry's alive."

"But—but—" Lily stumbled. "Harry's a baby. He can't write."

Remus smiled sadly, and Sirius, still massaging his throat corrected, "Was a baby. You've been dead for thirteen years."

Lily gasped and James collapsed into the chair.

"What do you mean, dead?" She asked quickly.

"I mean six-feet-under-pushing-up-daisies-funeral dead," Sirius said grimly. "It's not 1981—it's 1994. We don't know what's happened. You've just come back to life—but back to Harry—when Voldemort kil-killed you," Sirius swallowed, and James could tell the memory was still painful for him, "He turned his wand on Harry, and tried to curse him. You know, the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra. But it backfired."

"It—it what?" Lily asked, astounded, while James' mouth hung open.

Sirius nodded. "That's what I thought, too. But it rebounded, on to Voldemort himself. It only left a scar on Harry, a lightening bolt-shaped scar."

Lily frowned. "How did he survive?"

"You," Remus said simply. "When you died for Harry, you implemented your protection for him by your sacrifice and the curse rebounded off the shield."

Lily turned to James, her eyes shining with tears. "He's alive," James whispered. "My son is alive."

Alice blinked. Her eyes had a hard time adjusting to the light, the last thing she remembered…Bellatrix! Barty Crouch Junior! Rudolphus! Rabastan! She had tortured her, her and Frank. And then…nothing. It was all hazy, occasionally a face, a boy's face, but that was it. A boy…Her and Frank's boy! They hadn't gotten Neville, had they? And Frank, where was Frank? She had to find her Frank, had to find her Neville! Her boy, her boy! She had to find Neville!

Someone was stirring in bed next to her.

"Frank!" She shook him. "Frankie, it's me!"

"Ali?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we? Where's Neville?" his eyes widened. "What happened? Where did the Death Eaters come from? Did they get Neville?"

"I don't know!" she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. Frank's eyes were wet, too. He wrapped her in a hug.

"My boy, my boy," he whispered tears falling down his nose. "I'll find him, Ali, I will! If it's the last thing I do!" he whispered fiercely, hugging her tight as the passing Healer's tray dropped.