A/N:

Hello people, enjoy the chapter.

Arriving at the Great Hall, I felt the weight of every gaze as if I were some rare, exotic creature put on display. Conversations hushed, eyes trailed my every step. I resisted the urge to fidget and followed the others to our seats.

Dumbledore entered, his presence commanding immediate silence.

"Welcome, everyone," he began, his tone measured. "Today's meeting is to learn about Harry's past."

A shiver crept down my spine. Why did Dumbledore have to phrase it so ominously?

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room as we gradually moved toward the Pensieve chamber. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, but a sharp gaze burned into me. Instinctively, my eyes flickered toward Moody, who was watching me with an unreadable intensity. I forced myself to look away, pretending not to notice.

Once inside, I stepped forward, drawing memories from my second year. Thin, silvery strands drifted from my temple, coiling like smoke before sinking into the Pensieve's swirling depths. Stepping back, I gave a slight nod, signaling I was finished.

Everyone gathered around, waiting for Dumbledore's permission. Before he could speak, I hesitated, then asked, "Can I just sit this out? I already know what happens, so… yeah." My words trailed off awkwardly.

A few uncertain glances were exchanged. Then, unexpectedly, James spoke.

"I'll sit out with Harry."

My eyebrows lifted slightly. James was offering to stay behind with me?

Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully before nodding. "Yes, that will do. The rest of us will proceed."

There were nods of agreement before the group leaned forward, submerging themselves into my past. I exhaled, relieved to avoid reliving those memories again. As I glanced over my shoulder, I noticed a set of plush red couches tucked in the corner of the room. Without thinking, I walked over and plopped down.

James followed, taking the seat opposite me. A silence settled between us, neither awkward nor entirely comfortable. Minutes stretched before I finally spoke.

"So, you didn't want to see my second year?" The moment the words left my mouth, I winced internally. Really, Harry? That's the best conversation starter you could come up with?

James didn't seem to mind. He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "If it was anything like your first year, I'm sure it would've been… eventful."

I huffed out a quiet laugh. Yeah, that was one way to put it.

James continued, his tone more serious. "But honestly, I wasn't sure Albus would let you sit out alone."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Oh. Right."

Silence fell again, and my mind scrambled for another topic. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Was there a Harry in this world too?"

The change was instant. James' expression went blank, his eyes losing focus as if he were looking at something far away, something painful. Regret coiled in my stomach. "Uh, sorry, you don't have to answer that," I rushed out. "I was just trying to start a, um, conversation."

I shut my mouth before I could make it worse. But to my surprise, James spoke.

"Our Harry has been gone for seventeen years."

His voice was steady, but there was a heaviness behind it. "It seems like a long time when you say it out loud, but… I'll never forget him. His little smiles, his messy mop of hair, just like mine." A wistful chuckle escaped him, though it held no humor.

I swallowed hard, nodding as he continued.

"He was only one when he died. My mum and dad were watching him while Lily and I were out." James took a slow breath. "Voldemort came that night."

A chill ran down my spine.

"He killed him." James' voice wavered just slightly. "My mum and dad tried to fight him off, but he used the Cruciatus Curse on them. They survived, but… there was nothing they could do."

He swallowed thickly. "By the time Lily and I got back an hour later, it was already too late. Everything fell apart after that."

His words lingered in the air like ghosts. I stared down at my hands, unsure of what to say. What could I say? This version of James had lost his son before he even had the chance to know him.

After a moment, I found my voice, quieter than before. "I'm sorry."

James nodded, but he didn't look at me. "Yeah."

The silence that followed wasn't empty, it was filled with everything unsaid.

~~~~ ͛~~~~

One by one, the Order members emerged from the Pensieve, their expressions shadowed with disbelief and silent horror. Every pair of eyes eventually drifted toward me. Pity. Some masked it better than others, but it was there, tight-lipped sympathy, furrowed brows, sidelong glances.

James rose silently and crossed the room to Lily, who had already begun whispering to him, no doubt recounting what she'd seen. His hand rested on her shoulder, his expression unreadable.

Dumbledore's calm voice cut through the growing murmur. "Everyone, let us return to the Great Hall. We'll have some lunch first, then we may address the questions I'm sure many of you now have."

Feet shuffled. The group began moving in a slow tide back toward the hall. I lingered at the back, my footsteps trailing behind the others. No one turned around. No one waited.

A cruel, bitter smile threatened to rise, but I pushed it down. Different world, same story. Always forgotten.

When we reached the long oak table, I slipped into a seat beside Remus. He gave me a polite nod, one I returned without a word.

I kept my gaze fixed on my plate, absently poking at the food. I was grateful that Remus didn't force small talk. A quiet, mutual understanding settled between us. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, not from hunger, but from the weight of being observed and dissected like a memory pulled from a bowl.

Gradually, the room's noise dwindled into a hush. Knives stilled. Conversations died mid-sentence.

Dumbledore's voice rose again, soft yet commanding. "Harry, my boy, would you be willing to answer a few questions now?"

My jaw tensed. My boy. I hated that phrase. They brought up unwelcome memories of Vernon. Still, I gave a curt nod, forcing my expression into neutrality.

Mrs. Weasley's voice was the first to break the silence, tentative but curious. "How… how are you able to speak Parseltongue?"

I weighed my answer carefully. They didn't need the full story. Not yet. "In my world," I began, my voice steady, "Voldemort had a… connection to my soul. That's what gave me the ability."

A rustle of unease moved through the room. Kingsley's deep voice followed swiftly, eyebrows drawn. "A connection to your soul?"

I hesitated. Images of James' pain from earlier flickered in my mind, how his face went blank at the mention of the Harry that once existed here.

Carefully, I began to retell it. "On the 31st of October… Voldemort came to kill me." My voice was quiet but steady. "He used the Killing Curse, but it rebounded. Hit him instead."

I paused, eyes fixed on the grain of the wooden table. "It left me with a lighting bolt scar. But that wasn't all it left."

Swallowing hard, I continued, "The scar… it wasn't just a mark. It was a piece of him, of his soul. Buried inside me."

No one spoke. Even the air felt still, as if the room itself had paused to listen.

I didn't say the word Horcrux. Not yet. But judging by the furrow in Dumbledore's brow, he had already begun to piece it together.

Remus' voice came gently, "And… the connection? Is it still there?"

I shook my head once. "No. Not anymore."

Not since I died. Not since I came back.

But I didn't say that either. Not yet.

~~~~ ͛~~~~

Once everyone seemed satisfied with the answers I'd given, the usual structure of an Order meeting resumed.

I zoned out quickly. My brows furrowed as I finally realised something strange, Peter Pettigrew wasn't here. My mind spiralled. Was he still working for Voldemort in this world? Were my parents actually friends with him? Or worse… was he still pretending to be a rat, fooling the Weasley family like he had back home?

Before I could follow that trail of thought further, a glowing silver Patronus streaked through the air, racing toward Dumbledore. Its voice was frantic, broken and scared.

"Hogsmeade is under attack. Dementors, dozens of them, everywhere. We need help!"

People jumped to their feet as orders flew across the room. Robes were pulled on, wands drawn. Dumbledore's voice rang out urgently above the rising panic:

"Those capable of casting a Patronus, head to the front lines and drive the Dementors back. The rest, evacuate the civilians immediately!"

Portkeys were being conjured left and right, glowing with swirling magic. I took a step forward, ready to help, heart pounding.

Dumbledore's eyes met mine. "Harry," he said firmly, "you are staying here."

"What?" I blurted out. "I can help!"

His gaze hardened. "You cannot make yourself known. It is far too dangerous."

"There's people in danger" I argued, stepping forward again, but before I could say another word, a force pulled me backward into a chair. Thick ropes coiled tightly around my wrists and torso.

"What are you doing?" I shouted, struggling against the bindings. The more I pulled, the tighter they wound.

"Stay put," Dumbledore said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The Order will handle this."

And with that, he disappeared.

Silence fell. I was alone. Alone and tied down while everyone else fought.

Disbelief settled over me like a second skin. They brought me here, extracted my memories, demanded my help, and now they had the audacity to treat me like a child?

Anger surged in my chest. Was this what they thought of me? That I was too weak? Too unpredictable?

No. I wouldn't sit here like a pawn.

I inhaled deeply, forcing the rage to settle into something sharper, focused. I closed my eyes and concentrated, whispering the release spell over and over in my head. Slowly, the binds began to loosen. The ropes twitched, then fell limp to the floor.

Without wasting a second, I shot to my feet, scanning the room. I spotted a goblet sitting on the far table, perfect.

I turned it into a Portkey.

The familiar nauseating pull yanked me through space. I landed hard, knees buckling slightly. A quick glance around told me I'd arrived in a wizarding clothing shop, convenient. Maybe too convenient. But I didn't waste time questioning it.

Dumbledore said it was a risk to be seen. Fine. Then I wouldn't be seen.

I grabbed a long black coat off a mannequin, shrugged it on, and pulled the hood up, shadowing my face. Stepping outside, the world felt different, cold and heavy.

The damage was everywhere. Shops torn apart, windows shattered. Screams echoed from every corner. The air was thick with fear, mist swirling unnaturally as Dementors glided overhead.

I bolted toward the chaos, each step crunching over broken glass and debris. The air was icy, thick with despair. Shadows swirled as Dementors dived and circled, their twisted cloaks billowing like smoke. Screams rang from alleyways, a child's wail splitting the air.

Fear pressed against my chest like a weight, but I'd faced this before. I was done being underestimated.

A Dementor swooped toward a group of cowering witches near the apothecary. No one else was close enough. Without hesitation, I raised my wand.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A massive burst of silver exploded from my wand. A stag, tall, glowing, and wild, galloped forward with blinding speed, antlers lowered. It collided with the Dementor mid-air, sending it shrieking backward in a blast of mist. The witches gasped, shielding their eyes from the light.

People turned. Heads snapped toward me.

Another Dementor dove toward a wizard struggling to stay upright, blood streaming down his face. I didn't wait.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The stag was already moving, leaping across rooftops and crashing into the next Dementor. A second silver form followed it, then a third. I didn't just summon one, I called multiple, their light weaving through the dark like fire.

From behind a crumbling building, Remus emerged, his eyes locking on me beneath the hood. His jaw dropped slightly at the sheer scale of my Patronus.

More Dementors circled, sensing me now, drawn to the strength of my magic. Five. Six. Seven. They dived, claws stretched, mouths gaping to feed.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A shockwave of silver burst from my wand, a dome of light pulsing outward. It struck every Dementor mid-flight. They scattered like ash in the wind, screeching, shriveling in retreat. The sky above shimmered with light, momentarily blinding. People all around shielded their faces.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tonks mouth something, maybe What the hell?, as she ducked behind a wall.

I then focus on redirecting groups of people to run towards the three broomsticks.

The last of dementors start to turn away and flee.

I turned slowly, breath heavy but controlled. Order members stood in a loose circle, staring at me like they'd never seen me before. Hood still up, I met their stunned gazes. No one spoke.

And then, from the back of the crowd, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"…What in Merlin's name was that?"

It was Sirius.

I straightened, giving a small shrug. "That was me helping."

A/N:

I want to express that I really like the idea of Harry developing a stronger relationship with his dad, James. Throughout these chapters and the previous ones, you've probably noticed that I do favour for them to have a lot of interactions together.