Chapter 6: Memento Mori

A/N: Ok, I need to address the elephant in the reviews! James Potter.

James loves his son like nothing else. He gave his life fighting the darkest wizard in history without a wand for that boy. The issue here comes from how portraits work in this story. They are captured with the feelings, knowledge and moods of the person in them at the time of painting but are imbued with a piece of their soul at the point of death when the subject crosses over. This is when they become active and start moving and can be conversed with.

James Potter, while a member of a loving, happy and kind pureblood family, is still a pureblood. For them to interact with other purebloods they would discuss and even share some of the beliefs of the others. While they care nothing for blood politics, they have been around a long time. There are rumours that pass down through families like this and are picked up from others as well. James is subject to these. There is no proof that elf magic corrupts a purebloods magic, just rumour, but it is so old and so common it is taken as fact by most of them.

James is stuck in a portrait, unable to leave his home. He has lost all three of his closest friends, and as such feels alone for the first time since starting Hogwarts. Add to this he is still suffering under the feelings his portrait was imbued with at the time of his death and his actions don't quite match the person he was in life.

Lily doesn't suffer as badly because in life she never heard these rumours. They aren't locked in the back of her mind and at the time of death, she had made her peace with the fact she was going to die. James was actively fighting against death in the attempt to save his entire family. Given time, a portrait adapts and changes as they pull in new information and magic and they settle, becoming much more like they were in life.

As such James will mellow out and become the father Harry needs, he just needs time to break free of the horror of the moment he was killed. I hope this makes sense as I have no issue with his character and I apologize for making him seem like a bad guy. I just needed to address this, though with the time jump we're about to have, there will already be a noticeable difference in James from this point forward.

And as I hate having old author notes left lying in chapters, I shall endeavour to find a way to merge this information into the story somewhere so that I can one day delete this off in the hope it will no longer be needed.

Monday 1st June 1987.

Over the next year and a half, things became quite routine for Harry. He would spend his days at school, studying hard with Hermione as they both shot ahead of the class. While Thomas had been mostly dealt with after the few times he'd tried to get at them in the library, the few other bullies still tended to target them for being show off know-it-alls. But together the pair quickly found ways to avoid or deal with the bullying and school quickly became a lot of fun for both of them.

They would spend almost every day after school hanging out at Hermione's house. It had become so routine for them to be found under the tree in the yard reading that it was the first place either Granger parent looked upon returning home from work of an evening.

While they would occasionally be found doing their homework together, they usually finished it so quickly that it was much more likely to find them sharing yet another story together. They would take turns reading and both loved how the other would portray the characters. Hermione tended to put on silly voices, giving each character their own mannerisms and speech patterns. While Harry would jump about and act out scenes with fervour, dashing back and forth through the yard, and rolling about as he continued to read.

Both resulted in childish laughter echoing about the yard and house and the Grangers were happier than they had been in years now that their daughter was happy at school and home.

Mipsy and Tybalt would both watch over the children whenever they were at the Granger home, and both had become so enraptured by the children that they awaited storytime with the same glee as the young humans. And when arriving back at the Manor, they would happily help Harry share the details of his day with the portraits. It had become the habit for dinner to be taken in the atrium of the library as it was the only room with enough portraits assembled in one place that the entire family could listen in firsthand.

The only difficulties that arose came from Harry himself. And even those were not his fault.

It quickly became clear that while Harry's magic had not been diminished by the merging of magic with Mipsy, it had been affected.

Accidental magic outbursts, which had been almost unheard of for the small boy, became much more frequent. The first of which had changed the colour of the entire first floor of the Manor when he had become truly angry for the first time since the accident. It had taken the elves two whole days to reverse the change and it had only been the beginning.

There was talk of removing Harry from school, to prevent an outburst hurting someone or alerting the Ministry, but Harry had rebelled forcefully against the idea. It had taken almost a month to fix all the damage that outburst had caused, and Harry had become terrified of the idea of his magic hurting Hermione. It was this fear that had him begging his parents to help show him how to control the outbursts, and his lessons on the weekend had quickly shifted focus to training how to direct and control his unstable magic.

James had wanted to 'ground' Harry while they began his training as he worried teaching him the basics would allow the magic to release easier when he was away from the house, but Harry couldn't do that to his friend. He would miss her terribly if he was confined to the house again and promised to do everything he could to learn fast, so it wouldn't be necessary.

After the initial reaction, James soon came to see the benefits of the blending. Years of pureblood rumour scratched at the back of his mind as he came to witness first hand just how wrong they had been. He had quickly called Mipsy and Tybalt aside one morning before Harry went to school, hiding in the most distant room of the house as far from Lily as possible, as he apologized to them both for his reaction. Mipsy had wept at the apology, still slightly afraid that one day she would be taken to task for her actions.

So, while Harry would still spend his days with Hermione during the week, his evenings and weekends were spent sitting in the nursery surrounded by the soft rustling of wind through the leaves as his mother and father helped him to focus on his magic. It took weeks to finally feel his magic consciously and when he had, he'd been so surprised he'd unleashed a wave of it across the room. The sudden growth spurts the magic gave the plants turned the quiet nursery into a veritable jungle of overgrown and wild plant life.

His parents had been slightly worried, but Harry had loved the result. He now had a room he enjoyed spending time in as much as the library. When he wasn't practising control, he was exploring the now enclosed pathways leading amongst the greenery. Lily would often become fretful when he disappeared among the plants, knowing there were some dangerous seedlings in the nursery, but Tybalt stuck close to the boy whenever he would wander off, and always pulled him out of danger before anything could happen.

His training with Mipsy helped him to focus and channel his magic as well. He found he only had to picture a location in his mind and he could Pop there without trouble. They had even tested distance when he Popped to the school late one night. Mipsy and he had been so busy celebrating they'd nearly been spotted by the night janitor before they escaped. He was, however, forbidden from Popping to Hermione's, and Pops would always be there to collect him from the Grangers in the afternoons.

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Monday 9th June 1987.

Albus Dumbledore fumed as he paced in his office. Fawkes tracking his every step back and forth as he sat in the pile of ash, slowly gathering his strength after his most recent burning. The bird was thoughtful as he quietly watched. His friend of so many years had changed since the first war. His drive to teach the young of the world had been replaced by a brooding manner. He often wondered if the bond they shared could continue much longer if he could not nudge his friend back onto the correct path.

He had wasted many months now striving to find ways to discover the identity of the mysterious Potter heir. Even long after the government had given up on the idea. He seemed hell-bent on ultimately owning the contents of the estate. As though there was something among its treasures he sought control over.

Fawkes trilled softly, attempting to break his master's mood, but to no avail. He doubted if Albus had even heard him in his current state.

Locking eyes, so to speak, with the crumpled hat perched opposite him on the wall, Fawkes trilled again. The hat at least acknowledged his cry with a nod and scrunched his face up more than usual. Both were worried about what it would mean for the school and the students if Albus kept up his singular focus. But neither had the power to change his mind once he had it set on a course. They had tried a great many times throughout the years.

Fawkes trilled softly once more, before closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into the warm ash, hoping something would come to him in his sleep.

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Friday 31st July 1987.

Today was Friday, Harry Potter's seventh birthday. He had always loved his birthday as he would share it happily with his entire family. The elves would bring a cake and all the portraits would sing happy birthday and cheer as he blew out the candles.

But today, Harry was thrilled for another reason.

Today, he was celebrating his birthday, not in the library surrounded by portraits, but in the Grangers living room.

His best friend watched eagerly as Harry gently peeled back the tape on his present, carefully as he did not want to ruin the delicate paper his friend had spent hours wrapping carefully if her mother's whispers were to be believed. There was a shadow of fear in her eyes as he finally broke the package within from its festive wrapper. She was worried about what he would think of her gift.

She had been so excited when she had found it in the local bookshop, finding it hilarious and hoped that he would share that humour when he read the title.

Harry gasped as he read the cover, looking up at his friend agape.

"Where did you find it?" He asked.

"It was in Demming's. I thought you might find it funny. Even as fanciful as the stories inside are."

A lump formed in her throat as she watched him peruse the contents page reading through the titles of the stories within.

Harry was unsure of what to think about the strangeness of the gift. In his hands was a compendium of stories all with one central thread.

Harry Potter – The Boy-Who-Lived

Harry looked up at Hermione again. He smiled widely while watching her face carefully. Did she know something? The stories inside were all ridiculous by Muggle standards. A five-year-old boy fighting dragons, saving damsels and fighting evil. He recognised the publisher as well; Obscurus Books. Several of the tomes at the Manor bore their mark. They were a magical publishing house based in Diagon Alley.

"I… I love it, Hermione, thank you." He smiled again as the fear left her eyes and she launched at him, wrapping him in her arms even tighter than she had the book in its wrapping.

"I'm so glad. I thought it was so ironic to find a storybook with your name on it while I was searching for a present for you. It was almost like it was meant to be. He even sounds as though he'd look a bit like you. Messy black hair and green eyes."

Harry relaxed into her arms, all thoughts of conspiracy and danger from the Grangers leaving his body. He could never stay angry or upset when in a Hermione Hug.

However, a small shard of worry lodged itself in his stomach. He knew of the rumours in the magical world. Pops had shared them with him all after receiving some strange letters from some goblins. Apparently, because his body was never found with his parents, people theorized that he had lived through the night.

Not just that, but that a baby of no magical talent had ended a war they had been fighting. Now it appeared they were writing storybooks about him. The book wasn't overly thick and the tales inside were quite short, leading Harry to believe these were meant as children's stories. Much like the Beedle the Bard stories Mipsy had read him as a child.

The worry was as to what such a book was doing in a Muggle bookshop all the way out in Crawley.

But things like that were for other times. He squeezed his friend once more and pulled back, setting the odd book with the other gifts he had received from the Grangers. Smiling, he grabbed her hand and led her out into the yard, where they both snuggled together under their favourite tree continuing the Narnia book they had been reading the day before.

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"Sirius Black?" James asked looking at the confused boy in front of him.

"Yep, he's the main antagonist. Every trouble Harry fights is somehow orchestrated by him. He's meant to be really evil." Harry replied, showing his father one of the few pictures in the storybook, of a tall man with shaggy hair and dark eyes glaring out of the page. As soon as he'd opened it in the Manor library the pictures inside had begun to move.

"Well, I'll admit, Sirius was a troublemaker, but evil?" Lily scoffed looking at the nonsensical picture in the book. "Where do they get such an idea?"

"The appendices say it's because he betrayed the Potters…"

"He did no such bloody thing!" James called, standing and pacing at the slight against his friend.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Your father gets a little touchy about that subject."

"And why wouldn't I? We were betrayed alright, but not by my best friend. By a frigging rat and an old goat!"

Harry looked at his parents' portrait in confusion. Ever since he had returned and shown them all the presents he'd received from the Grangers he had been confused. His parents had both reacted poorly to the book Hermione had given him.

"Sit back down sweetie," Lily sighed, "I think it's time we tell you everything that happened that night."

Harry quickly sat in the nearest chair, shutting the book and resting it on his lap.

"First thing you should know is that nothing that happened was in any way your fault, Harry." James began, leaning heavily on the back of his own chair. "War is not a fun place to be, and we'd been in one since we finished Hogwarts. Dark wizards were causing chaos everywhere. One in particular, Voldemort, was terrorizing Britain."

"Your father and I were part of a group trying to stop him, called the Order of the Phoenix, as the government refused to label his group criminals, instead claiming it was a slew of random acts caused by radicals. Albus Dumbledore was the head of that group. He is also currently the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Anyway, that mental goat tricked your mother and me into leaving the Manor for a little shack of a house he owned in Godric's Hollow. Turns out some loopy bag had given him a prophecy stating a boy born in July would destroy old Voldy and end the war. You were born right in the window the prophecy gave, so we were to go into hiding."

"We suspected someone in the Order was giving Voldemort information, so Sirius suggested that we tell everyone that he was our Secret Keeper when we actually made it one of our other friends, Peter Pettigrew. People would search for Sirius, but even if they caught him, he couldn't reveal the secret. We would be safe."

"Except we trusted a stinking rat!" James growled returning to pacing.

Lily and Harry watched as his anger subsided and he sat heavily in his chair.

"You see Harry, they were all very good friends at Hogwarts. James, Sirius, Peter and another boy named Remus Lupin were such good friends that they learned how to become Animagi together. Peter was a rat, your father a stag and Sirius a large dog."

"What about Remus? What was he?" Harry enquired, becoming quite excited at the story of his parents' schooling.

"Moony wasn't strictly an animagus. His furry little problem was more lunar based." James replied, the first sign of a grin spreading over his face as he remembered his school days.

"Remus is a werewolf, Harry. He's a lovely man though, I can't believe we ever thought he would betray us. There really must have been something in the tea. He was sent away to Europe to talk to the other werewolves while we went into hiding. We successfully hid until that Halloween, when Peter led Voldemort right to us."

"I tried everything I could to keep you safe. I can't believe I left my wand upstairs. We became too complacent. With no magic to use, I gonged that bastard over the head with your mother's favourite vase. Sorry love." James smirked at Lily as he continued. "He tossed me about the living room like I was nothing. Whenever I landed I grabbed for the most solid object I could get my hands on and kept hitting him over and over. None of it worked. And then he must have tired of the game. He just hit me with the Killing Curse and I woke up in here."

Lily wrapped her arms around her desolate husband. "Trust me, you didn't want to be there for the next bit. I could hear him coming up the stairs as I laid you in your crib. We had prepared as best we could for him, but it wasn't enough. He ripped the door away like it was made of tissue paper and stepped into the room.

"I was so proud of you, Harry. I could see you standing in your crib watching him. You didn't cry once as he threatened to kill you. All over some stupid prophecy. He told me you know, James. He told me who told him. I still can't believe that Severus fell so far."

"Damned Snivellous. He's lucky we're dead, or he bloody would be." James snarled.

"When I refused to just step aside and let him kill you, he used the Killing Curse on me too. I woke up here in James' arms with him crying over me. Mipsy was watching us in confusion and I shouted at her to get you out now. She tried so hard to push through the enchantments, but when she suddenly vanished I knew what had happened."

Both of Harry's parents were crying now, holding each other tightly as they remembered the worst night of their lives, which were ironically enough the end of them.

"I know what happened next," Harry whispered, distracting both Potters from their memories.

"You what?" James asked.

"I was awake. My memory works too well sometimes." Harry looked down at the floor as he continued bashfully. "He stepped over your body, mum. Laughing as he stood over me. His red eyes looked at me and I just stared back. I was waiting for you to stand up and make him go away. I could feel you, as though your arms were wrapped around me, but I could still see you on the floor. He pulled some shiny trinket out of his pocket and waved his wand over it. He was hissing at it as he moved before holding it between us.

"Then he… pointed his wand straight at my face. Right here," he tapped the branching scar on his forehead as he continued. "And he said Avada Kedavra. I remember because he pronounced it much slower and clearer than when he did it to you. There was a horrid green flash and I felt you squeeze me even tighter. It hurt so bad when it hit me. My whole body hurt more than when I woke up after the car hit me."

Lily and James were leaking tears as they watched their poor baby recount the most traumatic event of his young life.

"And then you let go." Harry stared straight into his mother's eyes, tears streaking his face. "The green light pooled in front of me, pushed away by a bright white glow, and then it rocketed back at him. Whatever trinket he held between us was obliterated and the light hit him right in the chest. He flew across the room and the green light and the white glow exploded. But the white glow stopped it from coming towards me and you. It all went to the sides and back at Voldemort. Made a real mess of his body and blew out the walls of my room.

"I cried so hard then. I couldn't feel your warmth around me anymore. I wanted my mummy. And then Mipsy arrived. She stood right in front of me. I didn't know why she was there but all I wanted was to see you again. And then she brought me here, just as someone was rushing up the stairs."

"Oh Merlin, Harry." James whispered, "You shouldn't have to remember something so horrible. I am so sorry."

"It's ok. She brought me back to you. It's not the same, I can't hug you. But I got to keep growing up with my parents."

"Who do you think that was on the stairs?" Lily asked James.

"Probably Wormtail, coming to rescue his master. Or maybe Sirius. He would have come running when he felt the magic lift. Oh, gods no!"

"What?"

"Lily, Sirius! What do you think he would do if he found us both dead and Harry missing?"

"Oh, bugger! POPS!"

"Yes, mistress." The elderly elf bowed low as he appeared beside Harry, his nose scraping the floor.

"Where is Sirius Black?" James called.

"Master Black is in Azkaban prison. He was sent there for killing twelve Muggles and one Peter Pettigrew."