Chapter 6: Oh Merlin…

James's heart was pumping, his palms felt clammy but the hand holding his wand was steady.

It felt like being back in the 70s, only without Moody's hoarse voice barking instructions in his ears. Still, old habits die hard, and it wasn't for nothing that James had graduated at the top of his Auror cohort.

Two beats later, the boy was back on the bed and his wand flew across the room and into James's hand. For lack of a better place, he put it in Sam's dresser, locking the drawer with a spell for good measure.

A few more spells told him the boy didn't carry any concealed weapons – dark or otherwise.

"Secure weapons and neutralise suspect," James muttered under his breath, his mind straining to remember the acronyms that had been drilled into him as a trainee. "Not quite in that order but, S.W.A.N.S. – check."

"Curses and spells…" He cast a diagnostic spell. "Clear. Potions… Clear. Cu.S.P. – check."

With his basic checks completed, James let out a small sigh of relief – small, because he knew that them coming back clear didn't mean that the boy wasn't dangerous still. James had learnt that the hard way during his years as an Auror…

He stood back on his heels and contemplated what to do next.

Pale, unwashed and unshaven, the boy looked dreadful and smelled pretty bad too, James realised with a wrinkle of his nose. He was also clearly underfed and potentially feverish. Each on its own might explain his sudden loss of consciousness – and James was only too ready to put it down to a medical reason rather than emotional shock, which, if Sam's story was true…

As the boy still didn't show any signs of recovering consciousness, James hesitated. The Auror in him screamed that he should keep his distance, tie the boy to the bed, call in back-up and get ready to question him. But another part of him, a much stronger one, that of the Healer he'd become once the war had been over, told him he ought to at least check that the boy hadn't hurt himself when he'd collapsed.

With a sigh, James decided to compromise. Keeping a close eye on the intruder, he started off by setting a restrictive perimeter around the bed before allowing himself to run a few basic diagnostic spells. And as the results started coming back, his eyebrows disappeared behind his fringe.

Chronic malnutrition, poorly healed wounds, patches with traces of old and harmful magic – one on the boy's hand, one on his left arm and one right on the middle of his forehead where – James squinted – was that a scar…?

He was just leaning forward to look at the peculiar mark when the boy started to stir. James jumped back, landing on top of one of Sam's discarded Lego pieces. Swearing under his breath, he shifted his weight while still keeping his wand trained on the boy.

The boy's eyes snapped open and James felt his breath catch in his throat as brilliant green orbs pinned him in place. Lily's eyes – in a face so much like James's it felt almost like he was looking at his younger, albeit sickly, self.

James's wand started to droop. His knees grew weak and he took a few shaky steps to the chair by Sam's bedside, sinking into it gratefully.

"Oh Merlin…" he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

When he opened his eyes again, the boy was staring at him, defiant.

"Where is my wand?" he demanded. "And who are you?"

"I'm James Potter," James answered wearily, choosing to disregard the first question.

"Liar, you can't be."

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't," James muttered. "But I can assure you I really am him – I mean me – James Potter."

Still, the boy didn't look like he believed him. His eyes were darting around the room.

"Where's my wand?"

"I'm afraid I can't let you have that back yet," James replied, careful to keep his tone calm as if he were talking to some of his most recalcitrant patients.

"What do you want from me?"

"Firstly, I'd like to know who you are, and how you came to be in my son's room at six in the morning."

"I don't know how I got here."

"Fine," James sighed. "And you are…?"

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am!" the boy snapped. "Planning on carrying on your Dark Lord's work even though he's gone – like you lot did with the Longbottoms last time? Well? What are you waiting for?"

He held his arms out, glaring at James defiantly.

What in Merlin's name…? James thought. The boy had a wild, desperate look on his face. It was almost as if he wanted James to hurt him.

But before he could think about what to do next, a little voice came from the door.

"Dad?"

"Sam!" James exclaimed – and as he did, he realised the boy had spoken at the same time. "Sam, go back to my room!"

"But Dad, I told you it was the wish!"

"The wish…" The boy froze and then sighed a soft sigh as if suddenly things were starting to make sense again.

James narrowed his eyes. "What wish?"

"I told you Dad. I met Harry in a dream, and I wished he could come home with me."

"I wished for that too," the boy said quietly. The wild look was gone from his face.

"Dad, it's really Harry…"

James felt his head start to spin.

"Harry," he repeated, breathlessly. The name, once so familiar, felt foreign on his lips. It held echoes of laughter. Reminded him of trusting round eyes and a sweet, gap-toothed smile. Of the tiny feet he used to kiss. And of pain like he'd never felt before or since…

James's breath hitched in his throat and he closed his eyes against the flood of memories those two syllables brought with them.

A/N: Thank you all for reading! Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter. Things have been quite busy here but I'll try to get the next one up following my previous schedule of updating every couple of days (though it's been giving me quite a bit of trouble, so please send along good wishes for inspiration to strike!)