As James watched his two best friends gaping at him in shock, the sense of dread and confusion that had ceased his chest seemed to swell. He couldn't even comprehend the possibility that the past fourteen years of his life had largely been a lie, and he was having a hard time reconciling the two haggard looking men standing before him with the memories of the roguish, handsome Marauders they had once been.

Lost in thoughts, James jumped rather violently when Remus jumped into action. "Tea! We need lots of tea! And chocolate certainly wouldn't help my frayed nerves either," he muttered as he moved towards the cupboard.

Seemingly brought out of his previous stupor, Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. "I must be either too drunk, or not nearly drunk enough!" An with that he stumbled over towards the rather large and expensive looking liquor cabinet in the corner. Before he could get the cabinet open however, Remus paused in his tea preparations to send a wand less spell over his shoulder that forced Sirius into one of the chairs across the room. After struggling to get up from the chair for a few moments, Sirius seemed to realize he wasn't going anywhere and settled for pouting petulantly with his arms crossed over his chest.

Remus ignored his rather childish display and instead set the table for tea. "I think it would be much better for you to be sober for this conversation Padfoot, I expect James won't want to rehash this more than once."

"No, I expect not," James said grimly. "Where should I start?"

"How about starting with why you aren't dead?" Sirius snapped. "Or where you have been for the last fourteen years? Or why in Merlin's name you thought it was ok to abandon us like you did?"

"Pads, I don't know why you thought I was dead. Like I already said, I've been on assignment in California for all these years. Remember? I was building the school and teaching? We thought that was the best way to keep us safe. That it would keep us far enough away from Voldemort and the war that we wouldn't be such big targets. Before I could move my family out with me, Voldemort had attacked and I couldn't bear to return to a house that was so empty and alone. And I knew he disappeared, but Dumbledore said that he thought he'd be back, so I agreed to stay in America to build more allies so that we would have support if he ever grew in power again."

" Why haven't we heard from you then? Why didn't you contact either of us?" Remus whispered.

"But I did!" James proclaimed exasperatedly. "I've written you letters several times a year! I even have some of your replies from more recently in my trunk!" After a bit of digging, James pulled a thick bundle of letters from the depths of his large trunk.

After reading through a few of these letters, Remus shook his head and looked up at James sadly. "James, you would find more truth about the last fourteen years in the Quibbler than you would in any of these letters.

James was stunned. He already knew that things were messed up, but this simple statement from his calm and solemn friend seemed to really drive that point home for him. "I don't understand. Did Dumbledore lie? I know for sure that he knows I'm alive. I've seen him over the years. And if he knows, what else has he lied about?"

Remus and Sirius shot each other wary glances that put James on guard immediately. "James," Sirius began, completely sober suddenly, "what do you know about what happened on that Halloween in '81?"

"I really don't know any details," James said with a pang. The thought if that night never failed to cause a sharp pain in his chest. "I know that Peter sold u out to Voldemort. I know that Voldemort forced his way in- into our house. And I know that he mur- murdered my wife and baby boy all because of a stupid prophecy that I never even be- believed in!" James could hardly be understood due to the great sob that heaved in his chest.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other with concern. They let thief friend calm down for a moment before Remus began somewhat timidly,"James-Prongs- you need to know something."

At his tone, James looked up sharply, feeling a strange sense of hope that he very quickly tried to squash down. He didn't need the heartbreak of this was bad news. "Moony?"

But it was Sirius who spoke next. "Harry wasn't killed James. He survived."

James could feel his world tilt on its axis. To say he was shocked would have been a horrible understatement. His heart seemed to leap with wild joy that he couldn't seem to contain. Knowing that he would be crushed if he was somehow misunderstanding his friend, he gasped out in disbelief. Sirius seemed to realize how much this simple statement meant to his friend, an after a wave of Remus's wand he moved over to the other side of the table and held onto his brother in all but blood as he succumbed for the second time to great gasping sobs. After a few minutes, James finally got control of himself. "Where is he?" he asked almost reverently with a look towards the stairs.

Sirius hesitated and let out a large sigh. "No, Prongs, he isn't," he said bitterly.

"Where is he then? Did he end up with Alice and Frank?"

Sirius cringed and shook his head sadly. "No. I'm afraid they aren't fit to raise a child anymore, James. Bellatrix and some of Voldemort's other fanatical followers saw to that."

James flinched, but persisted with his original line if questioning. "Where I he then? With Minny? Andromeda? Molly?"

Sirius only shook his head sadly again. "Harry lives with Petunia, James."

At his words, James visibly paled. "WHAT? We have to get him out of there. Now!"

Harry couldn't believe it. He was stuck in his stupid cupboard again. He hadn't been given this particular punishment in years, and if it had been cramped to him then, as a small ten year old, it was nothing compared to now after four years of growth, combined with all of his school supplies and his school trunk. Not that it mattered to the Dursleys. All that mattered to them was that he hasn't finished the impossibly long list that they had given him after catching him sneaking food from the kitchen, never mind the fact that he hadn't eaten in three days or that he was on the verge of collapsing due to the lack of nourishment.

Harry looked around in desperation for a way out of his prison, but he knew from experience that he wouldn't find one. He had become increasingly claustrophobic over the years after spending the majority of his childhood locked up in here, and he had hoped to avoid the cupboard for as long as he could.

With a quiet sigh he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position that didn't aggravate the newest collection of injuries he had collected at the hands of his uncle after this latest misdemeanor. He was certain that he had at least bruised several ribs, if not broken them, and he knew his wrist was rebroken. He had only been back at Privot Drive for two weeks and this was shaping up to be the worst summer yet.

Suddenly, he heard a loud crash from the floor above, followed closely by his uncle yelling, "BOY!" in that particular tone that told him that he was about to blamed for hate vet had just crashed to the floor. Cringing back into the far wall, Harry tried to make himself as small as possible as he listened to the telltale sound of his uncle thundering down the stairs.

Flinging open the cupboard with a snarl, his uncle dragged him into the hallway and up to his tiny bedroom where it would be less likely for the neighbors to see. "What the HELL? Do you think that just because you're angry you can throw a tantrum and smash your aunt's china cabinet? You are going to pay for every one of those priceless pieces of china! Every piece of china smashed is a strike against you now. I'll destroy this rebellious streak of yours yet!"

Harry dropped to the floor in a fetal position in an effort to protect his midsection as his uncle begins to throw punches and kicks at every inch of his body that he can reach. Almost involuntarily, Harry let out a whimper when he was struck in the head. "You think that hurts you little FREAK? Let's see how you feel about my belt!"

Dragging Harry from the floor, His uncle began to attack him with renewed rage with the buckle on his belt. Suddenly, without warning, his uncle was thrown across the room and stuck to the wall. Harry immediately collapsed to the ground an tried to cover his head. When he realized that his uncle was not only frozen but silenced to the wall, Harry dragged himself to his feet. He felt like a giant bruise, and he knew that he definitely had more broken bones and large welts appearing everywhere. Deciding that he had enough, and not wanting to miss his chance for escape, Harry moved as quickly as he could manage back down the stairs to his cupboard. Thankful that his uncle had not taken the time to lock the cupboard back when he had grabbed him, Harry quickly grabbed his things and left the Dursleys.

Wanting to get as far as he could from the house, Harry headed for the small park that he visited as a child. He knew that he would at least be able to sit on the swings while he made a plan on what to do next. The Knight Bus made the most sense, but he didn't dare stop for his wand until he was as far away from his uncle as possible.

When he finally got to the park, Harry slowly sunk onto one of the swings in relief. He desperately wanted to slip into the darkness of unconsciousness that seemed to be clinging to the edges of his mind, but he knew that the blows that his head had taken from his uncle made that idea extraordinarily dangerous. With a very loud groan, Harry forced his battered body to move and find his wand. After a moment or two of searching, Harry finally found his wand, and he instantly felt safer.

Until he realized how cold the air had grown while he was preoccupied. The sense of deep despair that suddenly overcame him only confirmed the presence of his worst fears, and as he spun around he realized that there were two of them right behind him on the other side of the swings. He desperately tried to remember a strong enough good memory to cast a patronus, but his recent encounter with his uncle seemed to be the only thing that he could remember.

"Expecto- Expecto Pat-Patronum. Expecto-"

No matter how hard he tried to remember good memories, he couldn't get the image of his enraged uncle, raising his belt up for another strike and practically spitting in his fury, out of his mind. Harry slowly drifted down farther and farther into the darkness. 'Maybe it won't be so bad, dying that is. Surely it would be better for everyone? What's the point anyway? All I do is anger the only relatives I have left.. and put my friends in danger... Maybe it's for the best...'

Before Harry fully succumbed to the darkness he suddenly felt a sense of warmth and saw a large silver lights chase away the terrifying presence that had held him by the neck only moments before. He hear panicked shouting somewhere that seemed very far away, and then he knew no more.