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Chapter Text

Harry saw the second jet of light from Bellatrix’s wand collide with Sirius’s chest. 

Sirius began to fall backwards as though in slow motion, a ghost of a laugh still lingering on his features. 

Desperately, Harry began to charge down the stairs, no thoughts in his mind, just a desperate need to get to Sirius– to try and save him. 

He was too late, though. 

When Harry reached the ground, he tried to charge at the veil– sure that Sirius would be waiting for Harry on the other side, a renewed laugh bursting forth. 

Lupin grabbed Harry around the waist. “Harry, stop! He’s gone–”

“NO–” Harry screamed. “SIRIUS–”

“It’s too late, Harry, he’s gone,” Lupin said, his voice filled with an abominable calmness.

Harry twisted desperately in Lupin’s arms, wrenching himself free. He launched himself at the veil, still certain that he would be seeing Sirius in a moment’s time. 

Harry tripped as he neared the veil, his foot catching on some piece of debris. This was insufficient to stop Harry– his determination to just get to Sirius pulled him forward, through the veil and to the other side. 

His eyes widened in shock, then, for there was no other side and no Sirius just beyond it. 

There was only darkness. 

Harry tried to throw himself backwards, back towards his friends who still needed him, back through the veil, but it was too late. 

As the darkness enveloped him, the last thing he heard was someone screeching his name. 

Because he had tripped through the veil, the falling sensation that now suffused his entire body was expected. 

Harry distantly waited for the dull pain of a heavy landing, but it never came. He just kept falling. And falling. 

And falling. 

Harry unfolded his limbs– spreading them out to their full length– to try and find something to grasp amidst all the darkness, but he encountered nothing. No matter how hard he tried to fling himself through the empty air, he failed to touch anything at all. 

Eventually, he forced himself to stop, his chest heaving, his struggles a clear waste of energy. 

In the void of his mind left by abandoning his struggles, Harry realized something that he had forgotten. A feeling of guilt washed over him, so powerful that he forgot he was falling for a moment. 

“SIRIUS,” Harry shouted into the void. He fell silent, then, and listened expectantly for a response. Harry reassured himself with the knowledge that he had fallen through the veil not long after Sirius, so he ought to be near enough to hear Harry.

After several long moments, Harry tried again. And again. And again. Until his throat was raw and he could feel tears streaming up the sides of his face. 

The roaring sound of the air rushing past his ears filled his mind. Harry was still falling. Falling towards nothing he could see. 

Sirius was gone. Harry was finally forced to admit it as the spans of time between his calls stretched out longer and his voice lost its desperation, becoming toneless and empty. 

Just like the void around him. 

Harry had lost his friends, and he had lost Sirius. Harry himself might even be dead– that must be why Lupin had tried to stop Harry from following Sirius, because Lupin had known that to fall through the veil was to die. 

Sirius’s persistent, continual silence finally made sense– he could not hear Harry, could not respond to Harry, because they were both dead. 

Harry did wonder why he still had consciousness and this persistent feeling of falling if he was dead, but he could think of no other explanation for why Sirius would not have responded to him. 

And with a fresh wave of guilt sweeping through his body, Harry realized that if he was dead, then he had abandoned his friends to face Voldemort alone. 

Harry was supposed to be the only one able to get rid of Voldemort, but now he’d been stupid enough to go and die before fulfilling his destiny. Harry was dead, and his friends were doomed. 

Harry thought back to his first year, when Voldemort had asked Harry if he would abandon his friends to join Voldemort. Harry had said no, then. But now, it seemed as though his choice had never mattered at all, because Harry had both abandoned his friends and accomplished one of Voldemort’s main goals– the death of Harry Potter.

The thought of death– of Harry being dead– was still so abstract that he had a hard time wrapping his head around it. 

Dead. 

Like his parents. Like Cedric. Like Sirius. 

Harry had always hoped that, when he died, he’d be able to meet his parents again. But it seemed that was not to be, because Harry was still falling with the darkness pressing in from all around.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself. He felt an odd pressure begin to compress his body, and for a moment, he thought that he was simply squeezing his body too tightly. He tried to relax his grip. 

But this failed to alleviate the pressure. 

Harry took as deep a breath as he could, then gasped as the pressure suddenly began to increase all around his body. 

Harry struggled to breathe, to expand his lungs against the pressure compressing them inwards. He was rapidly losing the battle to breathe.

He began to see spots of light around the edges of the field of black.

The spots of light took up more and more of his field of vision, blooming inwards from the edges like starbursts, until it was as though Harry were looking directly into a very bright light. 

His thoughts moved slower and slower, until they cut off entirely, and he passed into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

“D’you think he’s awake?” 

“Not yet– wait, I think he is waking up.” 

Harry blinked his eyes open in time to see two blurry figures leap away from him. He reached up absently to check for his glasses and confirmed that they were not on his face. Then he checked his bedside table, but his hand passed through thin air– nearly making him fall out of the bed. 

Harry frowned, now thoroughly confused. He was clearly on a bed, so he would expect there to be a bedside table somewhere nearby– only the one side was against a wall and the other side was empty.

“Right, sorry,” one of the voices from earlier said. Then Harry’s glasses were placed on his face. 

The world came into focus, and Harry realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was– certainly not anywhere at Hogwarts, St Mungo’s, or the Dursley’s. He was in a small, dimly lit room, and the only piece of furniture in it was the cot that Harry was lying on. 

At this, Harry sat up in bed and looked around again properly. 

The other two people in the room were dressed almost normally for wizards. They had standard black robes on, but their faces were masked behind a veil that hung from their hats. 

“Oh, and here are the rest of your belongings– that cloak and piece of parchment are pretty nifty,” one of them said, placing Harry’s invisibility cloak, his wand, and the Marauder’s Map onto his lap.

Harry carefully gathered the items closer to him so he could put them in his pockets where they belonged, grateful beyond words that– wherever he was– his most precious belongings had arrived safely. He opened his mouth to ask– something, but closed it again when one of the people held up their hand. 

“I wouldn’t try talking just yet,” the person said. “You have badly damaged your vocal chords, and we did not want to risk dosing you with something when we have no way of knowing if it would be safe.” 

The other person nodded. “Yeah, we could tell that you’re from a different reality, so something that’s completely benign and helpful to us could be downright poisonous to you.” 

Harry blinked. Different reality? He had thought he was dead. Harry held up his hands and mimed writing with his right hand against his left.

“Capital idea!” the one on the left said. Then they conjured a piece of parchment and a quill– without any ink. For one terrible moment, Harry thought that it was a blood quill, but then the person resumed speaking. “The quill’s self-inking, so no need for ink– oh, and you need a surface to write on…” 

Harry took the quill and parchment, and seconds later he was handed a thin slab of something hard. Granite, maybe. He balanced the granite against his knees and wrote, Alternate reality? Then he picked up the parchment and held it up for the two people to read.

Their heads swiveled towards each other, and Harry got the feeling they were nonverbally communicating somehow, even through the veils. Then they turned back towards Harry. 

The one on the right spoke this time. “There is a theory that states that there are an infinite number of universes, each distinct in some way from all others. Since there’s already a Harry Potter here– it is obvious that you’re him with some noticeable differences– you must be from a different reality.”

“The problem is,” the one on the left resumed, “we don’t know what makes your reality distinct from ours– it could be one teeny change, but it could also be thousands– or more!– of massive changes. And something my partner neglected to mention is that we were ready to believe that you’re from an alternate reality because you came through the veil. Who you are only gave our theory more evidence.” 

Harry nodded. He thought he’d heard of the idea that there were other universes, but he’d never given much consideration to it. He was disappointed to realize that he must have landed in a universe fairly similar to his own if his face was so easily recognizable. 

An infinite number of possibilities, and he still wasn’t free of his fame.

He forced himself out of his self-pity and set the quill to parchment again. Before he could think of another question to ask, he realized that the two people must be Unspeakables. Unless they were called something different here… He wrote out, Is this the Department of Mysteries? Are you Unspeakables? Can you tell me your names? 

“This is the Department of Mysteries. We’re Unspeakables, but we can’t give you our names– department policy, you understand. You can call me Liz,” Liz said, pointing at herself. 

“And you may call me Sue,” Sue said.

Harry nodded, glad to have his location confirmed. He poised the quill against the parchment again. By the way, I don’t have any potions allergies, as far as I know , he wrote, then held up the parchment. 

“I take it you would prefer to not communicate by writing? Well… our universes do seem to be fairly similar… What do you think, Liz?” Sue asked. “Shall we get a proper healer down here to try and heal Mr Potter’s throat?” 

Harry nodded enthusiastically. 

Liz seemed to stare at Harry for a moment, then nodded. “His physiology does seem to be pretty similar to ours, since our diagnostic spells worked as expected on him. Oh– first, can you remember any of the ingredients in the Throat-Soothing Potion?” 

Harry stared at her blankly, then scribbled out, Wormwood, Bubotuber pus, Dittany. He held up the parchment. 

“It ought to be alright,” Sue said. “Those are three of the primary ingredients of our potion.” 

“I’ll still get a healer, though, because it’s better to have a healer here and not need one, than to need one and not have one,” Liz said, then turned and hurried out of the room. 

Harry was now alone with Sue. What’s the date? he wrote. 

“It is the 22nd of June.” 

It took Harry a moment of thinking to recall what day he’d dragged his friends to the Department of Mysteries. June 21st meant it had only been one day. And the time? he wrote quickly, to avoid thinking about any of that while he still had an audience. 

Sue looked at her watch. “It is currently a couple minutes past six in the morning.” 

That was well before normal working hours. Do you normally come in so early? Harry wrote, flipping the parchment up to show her in an action that was quickly becoming automatic. 

She shook her head. “We could not leave you here alone, though, so Liz and I volunteered.”

He couldn’t believe that they had volunteered to come in this early just because he couldn’t be left alone. Were there no other options? Harry wrote. 

“Well,” Sue said, looking uncomfortable, “there was a suggestion to place you in one of the Ministry holding cells, but Liz and I agreed that that was ludicrous, as you are a teenager, not a criminal. Of course, the person who suggested it is paranoid, so the distinction is likely difficult for him to make.” 

Harry felt bad that Liz and Sue had to sacrifice their own time because someone– Moody, maybe– had been paranoid. It probably wouldn’t have been that bad to wake up in a holding cell– though he wasn’t sure what he would have thought if he’d woken up in a holding cell while still thoroughly convinced that he was dead. 

He was pretty sure he was alive. Though to be sure, he wrote out, I’m definitely not dead, right?

Sue paused for a moment before responding. “You are definitely not dead. I hope Liz comes back soon so we can ask you about your trip, because travelling here must have been something else if it had you convinced you were dead.”

Harry shrugged. 

He could describe the falling easily enough, but he doubted he could convey all the things that had led him to believe he had died. 

Then a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His heart pounding in his ears, Harry moved his hand as fast as he could to write, Did someone come through the veil before me?  

“No, you are the first person to have come through the veil. At least, according to our records you are. Why? Did someone fall through before you?” 

Harry nodded glumly, his hands still shaking with residual adrenaline. It had been stupid to hope like that, stupid to forget about Sirius for so long only to have his hopes immediately dashed. Harry desperately wished Sirius had landed here with him. But Sirius hadn’t, he was probably in another of those infinite universes; Harry hoped Sirius was somewhere nice. 

Harry had just begun to tap the quill against the parchment, trying to think of something else to ask, when Liz returned, dragging a blindfolded and disgruntled looking healer behind her. 

“Sorry ‘bout the delay,” Liz said brightly. “It took awhile to track down the healer on call.” 

“Can I take off the blindfold now?” the healer asked grumpily. 

“Of course,” Sue said. 

The healer quickly reached up and removed the blindfold. He glanced at the two Unspeakables before his gaze landed on Harry. “You must be my patient. I’m Healer Ted Tonks”

Tonks– so this was Tonks’s dad. Or at least, something like the dad Harry’s Tonks would have had. Harry could feel a realization looming on the edge of his mind, but he lost his grasp on it as Healer Tonks spoke again.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Healer Tonks asked.

Harry sighed and set the quill against the parchment. He’d just started to write out his response when Sue said, “We believe he damaged his vocal cords in transit, but we called you in because– and this is strictly confidential– he’s from another universe, and a simple potion could cause dangerous complications.” 

Harry nodded, glad that he’d been saved the trouble of trying to write all that out. 

“Fascinating,” Healer Tonks said. “A simple Throat-Soothing Solution ought to do it– but you say he’s from another universe?” 

“We believe so, though it has been difficult to confirm with his voice gone,” Sue said. 

Harry nodded his agreement. 

“Would you allow me to do a scan of your current physical state?” Healer Tonks asked Harry. “I want to have an idea of what your baselines are, just in case something goes wrong– it’s much easier to return baselines to normal if I know what those levels are. 

Harry nodded again, feeling a bit like a bobblehead. 

Healer Tonks pulled out his wand and held it over Harry’s head. A moment later, Healer Tonks started nodding to himself. Then he stowed his wand back into his pocket and said, “Well, you appear to be a perfectly normal– if slightly dehydrated– human, so I see no reason why the potion wouldn’t work for you.” 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, ready to be able to speak again. Writing to communicate got very old, very quickly.

“Did you remember to bring the potion, Liz?” Sue asked. 

“I did actually remember that,” Liz enthused, reaching into her pocket and handing Harry a corked bottle. 

“Good for you,” Sue said. 

Harry uncorked the bottle and glanced at the three adults in the room.

“It should be fine,” Healer Tonks said in a tone that was probably meant to be encouraging. 

Harry shrugged and knocked back the potion. It tasted disgusting, as most potions did. As the liquid went down his throat, he felt an odd tingling sensation followed by a cooling one. Harry cleared his throat experimentally. Everything seemed to be in order.

“Er– My name is Harry,” he said awkwardly. Then he smiled in relief– his voice was back to normal and it didn’t hurt to speak. 

“Harry? Oh my, you do look just like James,” Healer Tonks said. 

Harry nodded. 

“Is everything else alright?” Healer Tonks asked. “I mean– I know it is, because I performed the scan and everything, but it just feels right to ask.”

“I think everything’s fine,” Harry said.

“Then I will take my leave,” Healer Tonks said. “Would one of you please show me the way out?” 

“I can escort you this time,” Sue said. “Do you still have the blindfold?” 

“Unfortunately,” Healer Tonks said wryly. He pulled it out of his pocket, positioned it over his eyes, and held out an arm for Sue to grasp. 

“I will be back soon,” Sue said. “Feel free to get started on asking our questions, though I would prefer it if you left the most intriguing ones for my return.”

“Will do,” Liz said.

Then Sue led Healer Tonks out of the room, closing the door behind them. 

Harry cleared his throat again, just because he could. “Your questions?” he asked, a little nervous. 

“Well, of course we have questions,” Liz said. “We’re always asking questions around here– though I guess you would know that, since you were in the Department of Mysteries and fell through the veil.”

It seemed like she thought he had a legitimate reason for being in the Department of Mysteries. Harry decided not to correct her since he wasn’t sure if he could get in trouble for something that he’d done in his home dimension and he didn’t want to find out. 

“So, what did you want to know?” Harry asked. 

“For starters, you really are Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Sybil Trelawney?”

“What?” Harry blurted out. “Who? What?” 

Liz nodded.

Harry shook his head frantically. What the hell kind of universe was this–

Then Liz burst into peals of laughter. “Sorry, but you should’ve seen your face!” She continued to laugh for a moment. Then, once she’d calmed down, she said, “In all seriousness, are you the son of Lily and James?” 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he’d do if that had really been the case. “Yes.”

“Right, so that’s one point of continuity. I really want to ask you about the trip here, but I think Sue would kill me if I did– so, let’s see. Is the macarena well known in your universe?” 

“The macarena?” Harry echoed blankly. 

“So is it not known, then?” Liz asked. 

“No, it is,” Harry said quickly. “I was just surprised by the question, that’s all.” 

“Good, it’d be awful if you came from a world without the macarena.”

“Not that I disagree,” Sue said, coming back into the room. “But why on Merlin’s kneecaps are you asking about the macarena?” 

“Because I didn’t want to ask about his trip here without you, but I couldn’t think of anything else to ask. I will say though, it does seem like our universes are pretty fundamentally similar.” 

Sue sighed audibly. “Well, I have returned now. But I do want to know how you got ‘pretty fundamentally similar’ from his universe having the macarena.”

“I didn’t just ask that!” Liz protested. “Although, if you think about how long the series of events had to have been to produce the worldwide phenomenon that is the macarena, you’d agree that it’s pretty significant that it’s consistent between universes. But the thing that really made me say that our universes seem similar was Harry’s reaction to my suggestion that the old fraud Sybill was his mum.” 

Sue’s shoulders heaved in a sigh. “I take it he did not react very well?”

Harry decided it was time for him to give his own input. “How would you feel if you were told that Sybill Trelawney had– had–  been with your dad?”

“That only proves my point!” Liz exclaimed. 

Harry didn’t quite get it, but he was at the point where he just wanted to stop thinking about his dad and Trelawney, so he quickly asked a thought that’d just occurred to him. “Do you think there’s a way for me to get back to my universe?”

“Oh–” Liz said, then turned to Sue. 

Sue shook her head. “I’m sorry, Harry, but almost certainly not.” 

“Yeah, you’d have to have a way to direct your– dimension travel, I guess we could call it. And there’s nothing– we didn’t even know for sure what the arch did until you came out of it,” Liz continued. 

“That makes sense,” Harry said with forced levity, though the sting of disappointment was sharp.

“Harry,” Sue said, after a moment of silence, “can you describe your journey here? We are specifically interested in the events that occured after you fell through the veil.” 

Harry fiddled with the covers as he thought back to that seemingly endless time he’d spent falling. “Well,” he began, “it felt like I was falling forever, just through the open air. Everything was pitch black, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t find any kind of– anything. It was just empty. And black. Then, after I’d been falling for ages, I suddenly felt some kind of pressure begin to surround me. 

“The pressure built until I couldn’t breathe. White spots grew until they took over my entire field of vision, and I guess I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up here.” 

Sue had taken out a pad of paper while Harry had been talking, and she had scribbled notes on everything that he said, which Harry found utterly bizarre. 

“And what led you to fall through the veil? Is it not in a room accurately called the ‘Death Chamber’ in your universe?” Sue asked. 

“Well,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean to fall through it– but there was a battle happening, and Sirius was stunned and fell through, and then I did too.” He really didn’t want them– or anyone else, for that matter– to know that he’d followed Sirius through the veil.

“Wait– battle?” Liz asked. 

“Er– if it didn’t happen here, then it’s a long story,” Harry said. He wondered what this Voldemort was up to, if he wasn’t trying to get his hands on the prophecy.

“How long would you say there was between Sirius falling through and you falling through?” Sue asked intently. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe a minute?” Harry said, guessing wildly. He didn’t want to think about that. 

“And Sirius was stunned when he went through, correct?” Sue clarified. 

Harry nodded. 

“Were you?” 

“No.”

“I believe I know why you ended up somewhere different than Sirius, then,” Sue said triumphantly. “Sirius was stunned, thus he was completely immobile when he was between worlds. You were conscious and mobile, so any amount of motion would have altered your destination.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. Then it was his own fault that he hadn’t managed to follow Sirius. If he’d just been smart enough to stay still, he could have been reunited with Sirius right now. But he’d thrashed around, and now he was stuck here, in this world, without Sirius.

Liz yawned loudly and stuck her hand up in the air. “I vote we see about getting Harry here somewhere to stay so we can head out. We can deal with minutiae like getting him records some other time.” 

Sue stowed away her notepad and quill. “I agree,” she said. 

“Will you be alright if we leave you alone for a bit?” Liz asked. 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure he would be, but he nodded anyways. 

“Right. We will be back,” Sue said, holding the door open for Liz to pass through. A moment later, they were both gone.

Suddenly, the room seemed so much darker than it had been before. The lighting hadn’t changed at all, but the feeling lingered. 

Sue and Liz had gone to find Harry ‘somewhere to stay’. He supposed that meant they’d gone to track down the Dursleys. A wave of injustice rose within him. He should have had at least another week at Hogwarts and away from that place. 

Hogwarts… Harry wondered what was going to happen with that. He’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere, so he wasn’t sure how he’d attend Hogwarts; it wasn’t like he’d gotten an acceptance letter to this Hogwarts. Though– Liz had said they would get him records, so maybe he didn’t need to worry about that. Then he wondered if he’d have to be sorted again, or if he’d just be able to go right back into Gryffindor with this world’s version of Harry. 

That was so weird to think about. There was another version of him walking around right at this very moment. Harry wondered when they’d meet– wait . 

Their only living relatives were the Dursleys, and Harry was reasonably sure that Liz and Sue were going to contact them about taking him in. 

But there was already a Harry in this world, which meant that the Dursleys had already been forced to take in a Harry. He could only imagine how much they’d resent having to take in another Harry. 

He could only hope that this other Harry would be okay sharing his room, and that the Dursleys would let Harry sleep there too. 

Because the only other alternative Harry could see was the cupboard, and he didn’t think he could survive another two summers spent locked away there. 

Harry jolted to his feet and got off the cot. He’d just have to deal with the future as it came. 

He began to pace the small room. Inevitably, his thoughts were drawn back to his old universe– his home universe. He wished that he could see his friends one last time. He didn’t even know if they’d survived the battle. The battle that they’d only been at because of him.

Harry wished he’d thought of that before he’d gone charging off after Sirius. But he hadn’t been thinking at all when he’d ripped himself free of Lupin’s arms– he’d just done it. 

And now he would never get to see his friends again. Or Lupin– or, or anyone else from his universe. Because he’d selfishly abandoned them. 

Desperate to distract himself, Harry bent over and buried his fingers into his hair, tugging lightly. It worked for only a moment, before Harry remembered that he hadn’t even gotten one last look at his friends. And now he’d never get to see them. The true them. Ever again. 

Because even if this universe held copies of his friends, they would never be his friends. Harry knew that there had to be a difference from his own universe somewhere in this universe, and even if there were carbon copies of his friends here, it would never be the same. Because they wouldn’t have the same shared memories, they wouldn’t have grown up together, they wouldn’t have experienced life together.

It just wouldn’t be the same.

And besides, this world’s versions of his friends would all likely already be friends with this world’s Harry. They would hardly be in need of another one. 

Harry wished that Sue and Liz had mentioned when they’d be coming back. He didn’t know how much longer he could take being alone with his thoughts like this– though, being alone in this room was probably better than whatever he would have to face at the Dursleys. 

However, it was hard to imagine that now while his thoughts were swirling and spiralling out of control. 

Harry pulled himself to his feet and began to pace again, trying to speculate on what the differences there could be in this world. 

Moments later, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the door was pulled open. 

Harry whipped around to face the door and lifted his hand to cover his mouth. “What,” he whispered. 

Standing in front of him was Lily Potter. 

Chapter Text

Standing in front of him was Lily Potter.

Coming through the door right behind her was James. And suddenly, as they tucked away their blindfolds, Harry could see that all the things people had said to him over the years– that he looked like his dad, but with his mum’s eyes– were true. Oh, he’d known it was true because of all the time he’d spent memorizing their features in the precious photos he had, but it was so much more striking to see them, to see his parents, in front of him. 

“Mum? Dad?” Harry said, taking a step towards his parents, reaching out for them even as his heart broke. "So I am dead after all."

Mum and Dad exchanged concerned looks.

And it was like a bucket of water had been dumped on Harry’s head. Because these were looks that Harry had never seen on their features before. And– looking closer, Harry saw that there were other differences too.  Mum was missing a scar by the corner of her eye, Dad’s glasses were square, and they were both so relaxed.

Harry let his hand drop and frowned, a bubble of confusion rising within him. 

Why would they be so different? How would Mum have lost what had clearly been a curse scar? Why did they carry themselves so differently? It didn’t make sense– if they were his parents, then they ought to look just the same as they had in his photos. 

Then he realized– this was an alternate universe. It must be one of the universes where Lily and James had survived. These weren’t his parents, they were just people who happened to look just like his parents. 

Harry cleared his throat and backed up a step. He wished he had kept his mouth shut. 

“Harry, why do you think you are dead?” Lily asked, the concern in her tone palpable.  

Harry glanced around at everyone present– Lily, James, Liz, and Sue– then shook his head. “I was wrong– it’s not important.” 

“You thought you were dead when you saw us,” James objected. “You took one look at us, then declared that you must be dead. That is very important.” 

Harry shook his head again. He had no desire to tell these– lookalikes– about what his real parents had done for him. He couldn’t even discern exactly why he was so determined not to; it was all twisted up inside him, a knot of emotion that he couldn’t unravel. 

“Wait,” Lily said, laying her hand on James’s shoulder. “It was as soon as he saw us that he said that?” 

“His eyes landed on me and then he spoke,” James confirmed. 

Harry shook his head once again, mouth clamped shut, knowing it was futile, that they would figure it out. 

“We’re dead in your universe, aren’t we?” Lily stated. “On our way down here, Liz and Sue caught us up on where you came from. They said that they hadn’t yet figured out what made the universe you came from distinct from this universe yet, so this must be it.”

Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to see their reaction, and nodded his head. At least this James and Lily didn’t know, could not guess, that his parents had died for him .

James lifted his hand and reached out for a moment before dropping it back down. “It’s alright!” he said. “We’re here now, though. Very much alive.” 

Then James cleared his throat and glanced at the corner of the small room where Liz and Sue were standing. Sue was taking furious notes.

“You must want to get going,” Liz said, seconds after James’s gaze had landed on her. 

Sue looked up, a sound of protest escaping her. “But–” 

“It’s very early,” Liz interjected. “And I’m sure the Potters have things to do– like getting Harry settled in.”

“We don’t want to impose,” Lily said. 

“Yeah,” James added. “And we’d be happy to meet up– well. We can meet up some other time, if Harry wants to.” 

Harry blinked at this correction. He could say no? Not that he was opposed to meeting up again, but it was very odd that an adult would care what he wanted to do. He was used to the course of his life being dictated by the whims of the adults around him, no matter what he would have wanted.

Sue and Liz looked at him, and even through their veils, their expectancy was palpable.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Harry said, a slight smile lifting the corners of his lips.  

“Then that’s settled. You know how to contact us,” Lily said. 

“Now if you could just show us out,”  James asked with a smile. “Then we could get out of your hair.”

“Before we can go, you know we have to ask you to blindfold yourselves,” Liz said. 

Sue nodded as she stowed away her notes. “It is, unfortunately, immutable department policy.”

“Don’t I know it,” James said with a small laugh, pulling his own blindfold on. “One day, I’ll find out how high I need to be promoted to walk around here–” 

“And then you’ll have to get the promotion,” Lily cut in, pulling on her own blindfold. 

James shrugged. “It could happen, you don’t know.” 

“Er–” Harry said, not sure what to do. He’d woken up in the room, so he didn’t have a blindfold. 

Sue slipped her hand into her robes, fishing a length of cloth out from somewhere. “Here you are,” she said, handing it over.  

“Right. Thanks,” Harry said, as he pulled it on over his eyes, plunging himself into darkness. 

“Just follow the sound of my voice,” Liz said, her voice abnormally loud in the darkness. 

Harry took a few hesitant steps in the direction of Liz’s voice as she spoke of trivial things. 

Once Harry got the hang of using Liz’s voice to orient himself, he tuned out the specifics of what she was saying, his thoughts turbulent. Here he was in the Department of Mysteries again. It had only been a– a day. It had only been a day since his misguided trip here. He couldn’t help but wonder, as they passed through each room, if they were rooms he had been in before. 

Did they pass through the room where the brains got Ron? Where Neville’s nose was broken by a Death Eater? What about the room that held the Veil? 

Harry clenched his hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palms. He couldn’t think of that now; it was too painful. 

Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly, then unclenched his hands. He needed to think about something else, something not related to where he had come from. He wondered what Lily and James were thinking, how long he had until they interrogated him about the very things he couldn’t bear to think about. 

Because they had to be curious– right? Lily and James knew that they had died in Harry’s universe. That was the kind of thing that they would want to know about– only, Harry knew that the questions wouldn’t stop there. They’d want to know about what happened next and, and–

Harry stumbled backwards, bouncing off of James’s suddenly stationary back. “Sorry, sir,” he said, soft and apologetic. 

“Sir?” James asked. “ Please don’t call me that–”

“You can take off your blindfold, Harry,” Liz said, interrupting. 

Harry reached up to remove the blindfold, a little nervous as to what he would see– where they would be– when it came off. 

They were standing in the hallway that had haunted Harry’s dreams for months. The hair on Harry’s arms rose at the sight. James was standing in front of Harry, facing him now. James rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. Harry thought he looked uncomfortable. 

“Right, so I may not be your dad, dad, so you don’t have to call me that or anything, but please don’t call me sir,” James said.

Harry flushed. “I’m sorry.” It felt odd to just leave off the ‘sir’, but he hadn’t been given permission to call him James – so Harry would just not address James, or Lily, directly. 

James beamed and gave him a double thumbs up. 

“Well, Liz and I are off now,” Sue said. “We shall be in touch.” 

Then she and Liz hurried down the hallway and into the lift, leaving Harry alone with his par– with Lily and James for the very first time.

Harry glanced up and saw that James was now looking at Lily. They were communicating without words– entire messages seeming to pass from one to the other with just significant looks and head shakes. He didn’t want to interrupt them, so he scuffed his foot against the floor as he waited. 

“When was the last time you ate?” Lily asked, shifting her gaze from James to Harry. 

Harry had to think about it. “I think it was dinner on Thursday? But I think I was passed out for most of Friday, so…”

“We are taking you out to breakfast, right now,” Lily declared, taking Harry and James each by the elbow and towing them towards the lift.

“Alright,” Harry agreed. He was hungry, now that he thought about it, and Lily did seem very determined, so there was no reason to argue. 

“Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?” James asked, selecting the main atrium as their destination. 

Harry shook his head. He had no idea what the options even were– the only places he’d eaten in Diagon Alley were Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor and the Leaky Cauldron, and neither of those places seemed particularly suitable for breakfast. Really though, he knew he wouldn’t have wanted to make the decision even if he had a list of choices in front of him. He was too afraid of choosing somewhere bad and disappointing Lily and James.

“Are you sure?” Lily asked.

“I don’t even know if the restaurants are the same, er, here ,” Harry said. It was just an excuse, since so much seemed to be the same. 

“I suppose that makes sense,” James said. Then he and Lily had another brief, unspoken conversation. 

“We could go to Rialto Cafe? It’s in mundane London, but they have the absolute best pancakes,” Lily suggested. 

There was a beat of silence as they both looked at Harry, and Harry realized a moment later that they were waiting for his input. 

“Oh, um, that sounds good to me,” Harry said. 

The lift opened out onto the main atrium. 

“I love taking the lift outside the normal hours,” James said, voice bright, as they exited the lift. “No unnecessary stops, just a direct trip right to your destination.” 

Lily patted James’s arm. “I know, dear.”

Harry trailed behind Lily and James as they strode across the atrium– towards the visitor’s entrance, if Harry remembered correctly. 

“We’re going to take the visitor’s entrance out to mundane London,” Lily said, confirming their destination. Then she looked around, catching sight of Harry as she turned. “Oh– I’m sorry, dear, were we walking too fast? We can slow down.” She grabbed James’s hand and pulled them both to a stop. 

As Harry closed the gap between them, he made eye contact with James, who had turned to watch Harry’s approach. Then James jerked his head at Lily and rolled his eyes. He must be annoyed that Harry had been so slow that Lily stopped them all. 

Harry dropped his gaze to the ground, a hot flush spreading over his face. It had hardly been half an hour since Harry had met them, and already he was making a nuisance of himself.

Once Harry drew level with them, he slowed to avoid running into them, but as he did so, Lily released James’s hand and took a step away from him. Then James and Lily started walking again, this time bracketing Harry on either side. 

They must have wanted to make sure Harry didn’t inconvenience them by being too slow again. Only, Harry had walked behind them because he hadn’t thought they’d want him so close. 

I was wrong about that then, Harry thought. Just like I'd been wrong about all those other things.

Harry slid his hands into his pockets to prevent his hands from swinging around and knocking into their hands. He didn’t want that to happen because he was worried that Lily and James would think it was his– pathetic– way of asking them to hold his hands. It was best to prevent the entire sequence of events from happening in the first place. 

Harry’s face had finally cooled down enough for him to risk looking up again. While Harry had been distracted, they had arrived at the Visitor’s Entrance.

“The sensible thing to do would be to split up so we’re not all three of us trying to cram into the booth,” Lily said. 

“But where would the fun be in that?” James asked, holding the door open. 

Lily sighed and gestured for Harry to go first. Harry stepped in, doing his best to cram himself into as small a space as possible. Lily came in next, pressing her shoulders against Harry’s to leave room for James, who then stepped in, closing the door behind him. The telephone booth was very claustrophobic with all three of them crammed in together. 

James was the closest to the keypad, so he was the one to take care of entering the code to send them to the surface. 

As soon as the lift slid into place on the sidewalk, James pushed the door open and stepped out, followed by Lily, and finally Harry. 

In the open air of the street, Harry rubbed at his arm where it’d been pressed against Lily. It felt like it’d been tingling, and he missed the sensation. He shoved that thought down quickly, though, his earlier fears of being pathetic returning. 

“I think it’s this way,” James said, pointing one way down the street. 

Lily glanced at James with a frown. “What are you talking about? It’s that way,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction. 

James glanced in the direction Lily was pointing, then back down the direction he was pointing. He repeated this motion several more times before saying, “I’m thinking of Sal’s Pizza, aren’t I?” 

“Sounds about right,” Lily said. 

Harry was fascinated. He had been told stories of how suited his parents were for each other, and he’d seen the love they held for each other in his pictures. But it was made all the more real to see that love play out right in front of him. Or, at least, to see something close to what his parents could have been, because Lily and James were not his parents. 

“Harry?” Lily called. 

Looking up, Harry was startled to realize that James and Lily had already started walking. He jogged a bit to catch up with them. “Sorry– I was thinking,” he said in explanation.

“It happens to the best of us,” James said with a wink. 

“Sure it does,” Lily replied, wry. 

Harry once again found himself bracketed between Lily and James as they walked down the street. It was so early that there were very few people out and about. None of the shops were open yet and there was a peaceful stillness to the air. 

Taking in a deep breath of chill morning air, Harry was struck by how very surreal this whole experience was. Here Harry was, walking down a nearly empty London street sandwiched between two people who were near replicas of his parents.

As a child, Harry had often dreamed of what it would be like if his parents had turned out to be alive, but he’d never quite managed to picture anything so commonplace– so real– as simply walking down the street with them. 

Harry didn’t have long to ponder this, though, because before he knew it, they had come to a halt outside a small restaurant. 

“Here we are!” Lily said with a broad gesture at the building behind her. “The best pancakes in London, or I’ll eat my hat!” 

“You’re not wearing a hat, Lily,” James pointed out. 

Lily pushed open the door to the cafe, holding it as James and Harry walked in. “It’s an expression and you know it, you dunce.” 

James pouted and nudged her with his elbow as they stepped up to the hostess. 

“Party of three?” the hostess asked, already taking menus off of the stack next to her. 

“Yes.” 

“And would you like a booth or chairs?” she asked. 

Lily and James exchanged a look, then glanced at Harry. 

“What do you think, Harry?” James asked.

Harry froze. He looked between James and Lily, frantic, hoping he could see the right answer in their faces. Their expressions gave nothing away, so he guessed, choosing at random, “Booth?” 

“Right this way,” the hostess said, setting off through the cafe. 

As they walked, Harry tried to study Lily’s and James’s postures to see if he’d made the right choice, but they just seemed relaxed. So that probably meant he’d made the right choice. He concentrated on remembering ‘booth’ for if it ever came up again– not that he expected them to take him out for meals again, but it was better to be prepared. 

Although, Harry probably wasn’t being entirely fair to Lily and James. His world’s version of them had died for him. This world’s version couldn’t be so different that they would get mad at him for picking the wrong seating at breakfast. And– if going out to eat was normal for them, which it seemed like it might be, then they’d probably expect to take Harry along. 

Lily and James were not the Dursleys. 

Now Harry just had to work on remembering that. 

When they got to the booth, James slid into one side and Lily followed immediately after him. Harry was grateful they’d chosen to sit next to each other so he wouldn’t have to choose which of them to sit with.

That was, until he realized that he was sitting alone with both of them facing him. 

Moments later, another woman walked up to their table, holding a notepad. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. 

“I’d like coffee, please,” James said. 

“And I’ll take breakfast tea,” Lily said.

Then the three of them– James, Lily, and their server– turned to look at Harry. His mind went completely blank for a moment and he could not remember a single beverage. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to remember that tap water was free. “I’d like some tap water.” 

“So that’ll be coffee, tea, and water,” the server rattled off. 

Harry nodded. 

“I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your order in a bit,” the server said, then walked off. 

“You know you could have gotten something to drink besides water, right?” Lily asked, as soon as the server was out of earshot. 

Harry had not known that. He wasn’t used to any of this, and he felt entirely out of his depth. He nodded anyways though, since that seemed like a stupid thing not to know. 

Lily still looked concerned, and Harry couldn’t think of any way to fix it. So to try and distract her, he said, “Uh, what do you do here? For work?” He didn’t think anyone had ever mentioned if his parents had had jobs before they were killed, so he was genuinely curious. 

Lily and James both started speaking at the same time, then stopped at the same time. They stared at each other for a long moment before Lily said, “Why don’t you go first, James?” 

James nodded. “Well, I’m an Auror, have been since I graduated from Hogwarts. There’s been talk lately of promoting me to Head Auror, but I’m hoping it’s just talk, because that would mean far more time behind a desk and far less time chasing Dark Wizards. Unless I hear that the position would let me actually see the Department of Mysteries, then I’d be way more on board.” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “Just remember, you promised you would accept the position if it was offered to you, even if it wouldn’t let you shed the blindfolds.” 

“I know, Lils. You want me at home more.” 

“That I do,” Lily said. Then, turning back to Harry, she continued, “And I teach at a mundane primary school. I’d say I’m at a mundane school because there is no primary school in the magical world, but really, I don’t know if I would want to work in the magical world even if they had one.”

Harry nodded. Of course Lily wouldn’t want to work in the wizarding world; Voldemort gaining power had to be worrisome for her. And he was proud, though worried, to hear that James was still involved in the fight. 

“So, a different universe, huh?” Lily said. “That is fascinating– oh, I cannot wait until we figure out what all the differences are!” She glanced at James, taking his hand in hers. 

“Right you are, Lily,” James said. “So Harry, tell us a bit about yourself! You go to Hogwarts, right?”

Harry’s stomach flopped, filling with butterflies. He pulled his silverware out of the napkin and placed the napkin on his lap so he could fiddle with it. “Yeah, I go to Hogwarts. I’m in Gryffindor, a Seeker for the house team, uh…” He trailed off, feeling tense and awkward. 

“You know, Chaser is the superior position,” James said, matter-of-fact. “But Seeker is acceptable, I suppose,” he said, dragging out the syllables. 

“Be nice, James,” Lily said, tone light and playful as she nudged James with her elbow. To Harry, she said, “Seeker is a perfectly respectable position. So, you’re a fifth year, right?” 

Harry nodded. Then he realized– fuck . “I already took my OWL’s,” he said slowly, “but I took them in my universe.” He looked between James and Lily, hoping they would contradict what he said next. “I’m going to have to retake them, here, aren’t I?” 

James looked pained. He turned to Lily and said, “There has to be a way to get him out of it– right? It’d be too cruel to put him through his OWL’s twice.” 

“But how else are we to know that the classes are similar enough between universes that Harry would be qualified for his classes here?” Lily asked, though she looked regretful about it. 

Harry heaved a sigh. “It’s alright, I probably didn’t do too well the first time around, because of Umbridge, you know, so I could probably use a second shot at them.” 

“Umbridge?” James asked, sounding affronted. “What’s that bitch got to do with how you did on your OWL’s?” 

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you ought to say it like that,” Lily said. “But go on, Harry, how is Umbridge involved with your OWL’s?”

“She was the Defense professor this year,” Harry said, drawing the words out. “But she kind of took over the whole school… So is she not the Defense professor? Who’d Dumbledore get instead?” 

“Albus Dumbledore? What’s Dumbledore got to do with who teaches Defense?” Lily asked. “And now I sound like a parrot,” she muttered under her breath.

Harry’s jaw was beginning to drop. “Dumbledore? Headmaster of Hogwarts?” 

“He’s Supreme Mugwump here,” Lily said. 

“Wait, but I think he did teach at Hogwarts for a while– that’s where he was before he left to become Supreme Mugwump,” James added. 

“He was Headmaster and Supreme Mugwump at the same time in my universe,” Harry said. “Oh, and he was Chief Warlock too, for a while.” 

“That seems like an awful lot of responsibilities for one person,” Lily said with a frown. 

Harry stared at her blankly. “But– he is the only person Voldemort ever feared.” 

It was Lily and James’s turn to stare at him with blank expressions. 

“Voldemort?” Lily asked. “Who’s that?”

Chapter Text

“V-Voldemort?” Harry stuttered, his voice lifting on the end of the word. “You know, Voldemort? The worst Dark Lord of the century?” 

Lily shook her head, the movement slow and deliberate.

James said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

Harry whipped his head back and forth, staring at them with wide eyes. “No way. There’s no way. He can’t just be gone .” 

“He must be gone,” Lily said, reasonable. ”Because we have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“And we haven’t had a significant Dark Lord rise since Grindelwald– maybe Grindelwald was called Voldemort in your universe?” James suggested. 

Harry shook his head. “No, we had Grindelwald too. Voldemort came after him,” Harry said, still dazed. Something about this universe must have delayed Voldemort’s return. He must still be out there, biding his time, gathering followers– and whatever else– like he had before Harry’s fourth year. 

“Are you–” Harry cut himself off, glancing around the empty Muggle restaurant. He lowered his voice and continued, “Has the Order been reconvened?” 

“The Order?” Lily repeated, confused. “I can’t say that I’ve heard of them.” 

Harry frowned and stared at her. He tried to gauge her seriousness, to gauge the likelihood that she was keeping things from him because he was too young, or whatever Mrs Weasley’s logic had been. The earnestness– and confusion– in Lily’s eyes convinced Harry that she truly had no idea what he was talking about. 

An icy chill ran down his back. 

This only confirmed to him that Voldemort was out there, somewhere, biding his time. And there was no Dumbledore and no Order of the Phoenix to combat him. Harry twisted the napkin in his lap, gripping at it, trying to control the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Maybe– maybe Voldemort was still too weak to be doing much of anything. Harry recalled the past summer he’d spent lying in Aunt Petunia’s garden, listening for scrap of news. “Have there been any disappearances? Or mysterious ‘natural’ disasters?” 

James and Lily frowned, exchanging concerned looks. 

“No, there hasn’t,” James said, firm. “And I would certainly know if there had been, because I would probably be the one assigned to investigate it.” 

Harry nodded, the haze of anxiety lifting somewhat. He had to believe James was right about the lack of disappearances, which meant that Voldemort must still be too weak to even manage that much. 

At least Harry would have time to get ready to fight him, then. 

The server came back with a tray bearing their drinks. “Sorry for the delay,” she said. “We had a minor problem with the hot water heater.” Once she finished setting their drinks down, she slid the tray under one of her arms and pulled her notepad out. “Can I take your order?” 

“Actually, can we have another moment?” James asked.

“Of course, I’ll be back in a bit,” the server said before wandering off again. 

Right. Ordering. For the first time since they’d sat down, Harry looked at his menu and realized that he needed to choose something to eat. 

Thinking back to what Lily had said after Harry ordered water, he thought that Lily and James wouldn’t mind if he ordered something that wasn’t the cheapest on the menu. Harry decided to try and find something he would enjoy eating without worrying about the price. 

“We should table this discussion for later, if that’s alright with you, Harry,” Lily said. “It is a heavy conversation topic for the breakfast table.” 

Harry glanced up from the menu and nodded in agreement. He could still feel his thoughts surging beneath the surface of his mind, worrying over Voldemort’s absence, about what Voldemort could be up to. Harry pushed the worry back, though, since he still needed to find something to order. 

After scanning through the menu several times, Harry decided to have the famous pancakes with a side of hash browns. 

Soon, the server came back. First, she took Lily and James’s orders, then she took Harry’s. By the time the server had left again, Lily and James had begun to discuss something related to Lily’s work, and Harry allowed his thoughts to drift back to his revelation that Voldemort was still in hiding. 

Harry supposed that Diagon Alley would feel as peaceful as it had during his first visit there. 

Back then, there had been no sense of urgency amongst the crowds of people gathered to do their shopping. People had congregated at street corners to talk to others, filling the air with light conversation and the occasional bout of laughter. 

It was something that Harry hadn’t been sure he would ever experience again.

So the prospect of being able to start one more school year without Voldemort’s imminent shadow hanging over him was– strange . 

Allowing his thoughts to drift, Harry remembered that this Lily and James also had a son named Harry. Their son would be a version of Harry who had not grown up in Voldemort’s shadow. This Harry had been raised by Lily and James. He would probably be happier, more likable, better.

He had to be, because Lily and James were good parents–  loving parents. They were nothing at all like the Dursleys. 

As a child, Harry had imagined what life with his parents would be like. And part of those daydreams had always been about how life with his parents would change him, Harry. How he’d be braver, smarter, less troublesome– how he imagined this other version of Harry would be. Sometime soon, he was going to see the truth of those daydreams, because this Harry would be due home from school for the summer. 

“So, Harry,” James said, startling Harry out of his thoughts, “how are you at Quidditch?” 

“Oh, um,” Harry said. “Alright, I guess?” 

“C’mon,” James said goadingly, “they don’t let just anyone on the house teams, so you must be better than alright .”

Thus began a series of blatant attempts by Lily and James to include Harry in conversation. Harry did his best to respond in kind, but he was still hesitant to share too much about himself. And so the conversation remained small talk at best.  

Despite the benign conversation, Lily and James seemed to genuinely listen to what Harry had to say. Harry’s stomach clenched with guilt; they were so interested in him despite his efforts to keep them at arm’s length. 

But he just couldn’t let them in yet, no matter how guilty keeping them out made him feel. 

When they were all done with breakfast, Lily and James led the way out of the cafe and into a nearby alley. 

James took a moment to scour the alley for security cameras, obscuring the two that he found. “Have you ever side-along apparated before?” James asked.

“Er– no,” Harry said. 

“This might be a bit rough for you, then, but it is the best way to get us all home,” James said. “If you’re averse to it, though, I could probably get someone to send us a portkey…?”

“Yeah, your friend in the Department of Magical Transportation could probably get one for us,” Lily said. 

“I don’t mind apparating,” Harry interjected. “It’s what’s easiest, right?” 

“Right,” James said. “If you’re sure you don’t mind apparating–”

Harry nodded.

“–then would you rather apparate with me or Lily? I’ll only be a little offended if you don’t pick me,” James said with a wink.

Harry glanced between the two of them, then took a step towards Lily. 

“Good choice,” Lily said. “If you would just take my arm and grip as tight as you can. Be certain that you do not let go; I don’t want you to end up spinched.” 

Harry grabbed hold of the proffered arm, his fingers tingling once more at the skin on skin contact. 

“Tighter than that, Harry.”

Harry complied, squeezing Lily tighter until she gave him a smile and a nod of approval. 

“And away we go,” Lily said, spinning in place. 

Harry felt the distinct and horribly familiar sensation of being compressed on all sides, as if he were being squeezed into a tiny tube. For a terrible moment, Harry panicked, wondering if he was dimension traveling again. But as soon as it had begun, the sensation faded away. In the absence of the compression, Harry stumbled and fell to the ground. 

“Oh, let me help you up,” Lily said, reaching a hand down. 

Harry rolled over onto his back, then grasped it. 

“How are you feeling?” Lily asked. 

“I’m fine– it wasn’t that bad.” 

Then James appeared with a loud pop! “Good to see you made it in one piece,” he said. “And welcome to Potter Cottage!”  

The name of their home felt much the same as seeing Lily and James for the first time– familiar and shocking in equal parts. Harry braced himself as he finally looked up at where he was. 

They had landed on the front garden of a small house. The house was made of large grey stones held together with dull white mortar. The house had a small porch, and on it were two pairs of muddy rain boots. 

Harry released a slow breath as an unmistakable sense of belonging settled over him. He had only felt like this at two other places: Hogwarts and the Burrow. 

Potter Cottage was quaint and wonderful, and though it looked nothing like the many houses Harry had imagined for his parents, it was still perfect. 

“I love it,” Harry said, faint. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” James said, grinning with pride. 

Home. The word struck a chord within Harry, beginning to echo through his mind. Home. He didn’t have a home anymore, did he? His home was lost to him, gone through the currents of time and space.

“Are you ready to come inside?” Lily asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said, glad for the distraction.

James led the way up the path and stood on the porch, holding the door open. Harry stepped into the entryway and looked around. There was a mirror on the wall by the door, and Harry stepped out of range before it could start saying anything to him. 

“James’s parents insisted on helping us furnish the house,” Lily said, stepping past Harry and into a very formal living room. “So we ended up with a fairly useless sitting room and dining room– neither of which we use.” 

“Shh,” hushed James dramatically. “My parents can’t know that!” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “James is afraid that they’ll contrive a way to make us use the rooms if they find out we never use them.”    

“Alright, kiddo,” James said, “ready for the grand tour?” 

Harry’s heart lurched at the affection in James’s voice, at being called ‘kiddo’. Harry shoved the sensation down and nodded. 

“So that’s the dining room, and this is the living room, as you already know,” James said, pointing at each in turn. Then he pointed at the staircase and said, “And that clearly goes upstairs.” 

James set off down the hallway that went by the living room. The hallway must span the length of the house, if the window Harry could see all the way at the end was anything to judge by. 

As they walked through the house, James pointed out the rooms and locations that they passed until they were standing in the den at the back of the house. 

“And here we have the most important thing in the house,” James declared. “My gobstones set and gobstones championship trophy collection.” The aforementioned items were displayed with pride on a tall bookshelf in the corner of the room. 

Harry stared at it with a blank expression before carefully arranging his features into an expression of polite interest and nodding. 

“You don’t actually have to care about that,” Lily said. “James knows he’s a nerd, and that not everyone loses it over a good game of gobstones.” 

“It’s nice,” Harry said, not sure what else to say. 

“I’ll convert you,” James said, confident. “You’ll see.”

“Anyways, let’s move upstairs now,” Lily said, saving Harry from having to comment again. 

She walked back through the house and up the stairs, stepping down the small hallway to leave room for Harry and James at the top of the stairs. 

“That door just to the right of the stairs is my room– James sleeps there too, I guess,” Lily said, pointing. “The door right at the top of the stairs is Harry’s bathroom. And yours, now.” 

Lily moved down the hallway and opened a door near the very end. “And this will be your room. The other door goes to, uh, Harry’s room. Not your room, Harry. It’s other Harry’s room.” Lily paused. “This could be very confusing.”

Harry hadn’t thought of that problem. “Um. If it’s too confusing, you can call me something else,” he offered, though his heart tore as he said the words. He didn’t want to lose his name on top of everything else he’d already lost.

“We’re not going to do that to you,” Lily said. “Harry is the name we– or rather, other we, I guess– gave you, so you ought to keep it.”

Harry sighed in relief. “Thank you,” he said, quiet and sincere. 

Once his heart had calmed down again, Harry took in the room Lily and James were giving him. It was a very comfortable, though blandly decorated, guest room. He wandered further into the room, absently running his hand over the surface of the dresser and along the wall. 

James cleared his throat. Harry jumped, whipping back around to see that James and Lily were standing just inside the door. 

“I’m sorry it’s not much right now. If we’d known in advance, we would have prepared something nicer for you,” Lily said, apologetic.

“Thankfully, we can do magic!” James continued with enthusiasm. “So we can easily personalize it so it’s perfect for you– no advance warning needed!” 

Personalize… for him? Harry realized his jaw had dropped open, so he quickly closed it. “I don’t… I mean, it’s fine as it is,” he said, returning his gaze to surveying the room that was apparently going to be his . 

James and Lily exchanged another of those loaded looks. Then James pulled his wand out and said, “Really, Harry, you can’t want– what did my mother call this color? Wickham Grey?– colored walls. Name a color, any color.” 

Harry looked at the walls. They weren’t so bad. But James wanted him to pick a color, and well, there were colors that Harry would like better. He scratched at the back of his neck for a moment as he considered. When he had decided, he said, “I’d like a dark blue? If that’s alright–”

Harry was cut off by James waving his wand, causing the color of the walls to transform from the dull grey they had been to a serene midnight blue. 

“Is that alright?” James asked. “I can change it again with no trouble at all if you want me to.” 

Harry glanced at the walls again, smiled, and nodded. “It’s perfect.” 

“Right, now to fix the bedding,” James said. 

From there, Lily and James moved in a whirlwind, asking Harry his preferences and making changes to the room accordingly, until they had created a room that could have come out of any of Harry’s daydreams. 

By the time they were done, Harry was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around himself. He appreciated everything James and Lily had done for him, but he was beginning to feel overwhelmed. 

“I think we ought to–” Lily started to say. 

“ I think we ought to leave Harry to get settled in while you help me respond to that letter mother sent me,” James said, cutting her off. 

Lily sent a look at James, then glanced at Harry. Harry wasn’t sure what she was seeing or looking for, but a look of comprehension dawned on her face.

“Yes, let’s get that over with,” Lily said, nodding. To Harry, she added, “We’ll be just downstairs if you need us. If you’ve not come down yet, we’ll call you down for lunch in a couple hours.” 

“Thank you,” Harry said as they filed out of his room. “For everything,” he added quietly, though he was sure they wouldn’t be able to hear it. 

Once they were gone, he closed the door. He stood there, frozen, and stared at the empty expanse of the door where he was used to seeing a series of locks. Harry glanced at the doorknob, too, and confirmed what he’d assumed– the door locked from the inside. There would be no locking Harry in his room here.

Or at least, not yet. 

Harry balled his hands into fists and shook his head from side to side to clear it of that thought. These were people akin to who his parents had been. And his parents had loved him– had loved him so much that they had died for him. Whatever the differences were between this universe and his own, they would not be enough to transform Lily and James into people who would lock him in his room. 

Harry moved further into the room– his room. There was now a desk situated so that it overlooked the back garden, and Harry settled into the desk chair so he could just sit and think. 

There was so much to think about and to process. He had no idea where to even begin. 

Figuring that the beginning was as good a place to start as any, Harry thought back to what had brought him here. He regretted it almost immediately as the pain of losing Sirius settled back into his chest. Wrapping his arms around himself again, Harry allowed himself to wonder about Sirius and where he had gone. 

Liz and Sue had said that Harry’s movement in the void had carried him further from his own universe, so he had to assume that Sirius had ended up in a universe more similar to their own. 

That meant that Sirius probably still had to deal with an active Voldemort. 

Harry had been the one to put Sirius in immediate danger by falling for Voldemort’s trap in the Department of Mysteries, so Harry had been the one who was responsible for Sirius falling through the veil. It wasn’t fair that Harry was the one who had landed in the universe that was– for now– free of Voldemort. 

Harry wished he could trade places with Sirius. Sirius was the one who deserved to be reunited with Lily and James, to live in a peaceful world. 

But Harry had no way to contact Sirius, let alone a way to swap places. Harry had no way to contact anyone. He was alone here in this universe, alone in a way that he hadn’t been since before Hogwarts. 

The thought of all that he had lost crashed over him like a bucket of ice. Harry reached out blindly and grasped at the edge of the desk, desperate for something stable to hold onto, something to fight the isolation and solitude he was drowning in. 

Maybe this was all a terrible dream brought on by the stress of OWLs.

Clinging to the futile hope that if he held still for long enough, the world would settle into place around him, Harry closed his eyes and sat there, his body frozen. It was childish, but he hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would be back at home– at Hogwarts, in his bed, in his dormitory. That Ron would be right there, in the next bed over. That he would board the train to King’s Cross and be greeted there by Sirius. 

But when Harry opened his eyes, he was confronted by the tauntingly idyllic back garden. He shoved himself away from the desk and yanked the curtains to the window closed. He repeated the process with the other window, shut off the lights in the room, and went to sit on the bed. Then he got up again, pulled the covers back, and slid under them. 

The act of moving around the room had helped push back some of his turbulent thoughts, but the moment he went still, his thoughts agitated again. 

This universe was just– so much better than his own had been. 

Voldemort was still in hiding, and he must be very well hidden because Lily and James had never even heard of him. This Voldemort had never targeted the Potters for murder- their son was free of the prophecy that had defined Harry’s time in the Wizarding World. 

All this had led to the remarkable fact that Lily and James were still alive, here, and had gotten to raise their son. And because they were still alive, Harry had been given into their care– had gotten to meet them. 

From the moment Lily and James had met him, they had been nothing but kind. Even after Harry had told them that they were dead in his universe, they had still been kind to him.

They didn’t press him for information, either. Information that Harry would not have felt comfortable giving them. 

As Harry thought back over the morning, he could recall multiple instances where Lily and James had done small things to make him more comfortable. Or things that were just plain kind. 

And Harry realized, with a burst of shame, that he desperately wished that this really was his home.

Chapter Text

Harry must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was being woken up by a knock on the door. He scrambled into a sitting position, hands searching, frantic, for his glasses. He found them and put them on, then turned to face the door to see who was coming in. 

There came another polite knock. 

Taking advantage of the extra warning, Harry got out of bed and smoothed out the rumpled covers on the bed.

Another knock. “Harry? Are you alright?” It was James.  

“Oh,” Harry said, startled. “Er– yes?” 

A pause. “May I come in?” 

So that was why James hadn’t come in yet. “Yes,” Harry said, nearly slipping up and tacking a ‘sir’ onto the end. It was difficult to remember not to, when James was being so– so polite.  

The door opened and James stepped into the still dimly-lit room. “May I turn on the light?” 

“Yes,” Harry said again, hurrying over to yank the curtains open, a flush spreading over his face at being caught so unaware. 

“Did you have a nice nap, then?” James asked, his tone interested, still standing just inside the doorway. 

The flush spread further, and Harry rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, uh, did, thank you.” Then Harry realized that he had no idea what time it was–  maybe James was here because Harry had missed their calls for lunch. “I’m sorry–” 

“So Lily–” 

Harry had cut himself off and was waiting for James to continue. Except James stayed silent, too. After a moment, Harry took James’s continued silence as a sign that he ought to continue. “I’m–” 

Except, once again, James started speaking at the same time that he did. Harry frowned and gestured for James to go ahead. 

James surveyed him, curious, before he started speaking. “Right, so, I’ve come up here to get you some fresh clothes to wear. Because it’s Saturday and all the shops are closed tomorrow, we won’t be able to take you clothes shopping until Monday. That is, unless we were to go today, but Lily thinks that that would be too much in one day, especially since we have plenty of clothes you can borrow here.” 

“But– the ones I have are perfectly fine,” Harry said, gesturing at what he was wearing.

James frowned. “I’m not so sure about that. Besides, it’s not like the clothes we have here are doing any good laying around, so you may as well wear them.” 

Harry glanced down at his own clothes and was forced to admit that James may have a point. They were rather ragged, both from the battle at the Department of Mysteries and from his fall through the veil. “Alright,” Harry said, resigned, since James did seem determined– and, well, clean clothing would be nice. 

“Awesome!” James exclaimed. “Follow me, and we’ll find you a couple of outfits to tide you over.” 

James stepped back out into the hallway and Harry followed him. Harry glanced to the right– at the other Harry’s door– and realized just whose clothes he would be borrowing. His stomach sank, though he really should have already known where the clothes his size had to come from. 

Except James hadn’t gone that way, he’d gone to the left. Harry stood in the hallway and watched in confusion as James reached up and pulled down a hatch in the ceiling. James turned back and looked at Harry. 

“You’re a bit smaller than my Harry,” James explained, “So the things that will fit you are up in storage.” 

“Oh, okay,” Harry said. That did make him feel better about the situation. At least he wasn’t taking their proper son’s current clothes. This was just like taking Dudley’s hand-me-downs, and that was something Harry was used to. 

James summoned a couple of boxes from the attic and set them down between them on the floor.  

“Alrighty, let’s crack these open and see what you want,” James said, getting to his knees by the boxes. 

Harry mirrored the action and James passed him an open box. Inside was a collection of lightly worn t-shirts alongside a handful of nicer shirts. Harry glanced at James, who was dressed casually in a Quidditch t-shirt and well-worn jeans, and began to pull out the t-shirts. 

James glanced at the selections Harry had made. “Good choice,” James said. Then, after another moment of rummaging in the boxes, he pulled out a couple pairs of jeans. “How do these look?” 

Harry looked them over and nodded, reaching out to take them. 

“Lastly– and this is a bit awkward, and, I think, the reason that I’m up here now and not Lily. We do have some underwear packed away– and it was all cleaned well before being stored– but, well, is that alright? For now?” 

Harry blinked at the man, trying to parse together what James was saying and why he seemed so embarrassed. All Harry’s clothes were hand-me-downs, including his underwear. Harry supposed that the reassurances that they were clean was nice.

“That’s alright,” Harry said, frowning in his confusion. 

James nudged the last box in Harry’s direction, already opened. Harry pulled out a couple pairs of both underwear and socks. 

James cleared his throat. “Why don’t you go and try everything on? I’ll stay here in case I need to bring down different boxes.” 

Harry nodded, gathered the clothes into his arms, and darted back into the room he’d napped in. He closed the door behind him, then set the clothing down on his bed. As soon as he got the clothing on, he was able to determine that all the clothes were a good fit. 

In fact, they were a much better fit than Dudley’s hand-me-downs had ever been. After changing back into his own clothes, Harry went back out to tell James that everything was perfect. 

Before he could open his mouth, though, James took a look at him, then started summoning boxes. 

“Wait–” Harry said, causing James to stop what he was doing. “The clothes fit me great.” 

“Oh,” James said, lowering his wand arm. “Then why are you still wearing your things?” 

“I’m still dirty, so I didn’t want to get them dirty too.” 

“There’s an easy solution for that,” James said. He pointed over his shoulder at the loo. “Take a shower, then put the clothes on. And that has the added bonus of giving us time to finish making lunch while you shower.” 

Harry glanced at the loo, nervous. He did want a shower, but there was a lot he didn’t know about being here. He didn’t have his own toiletries, so could he just use the ones in the shower? It was the other Harry’s loo, so all the things in it were his, and Harry didn’t want to upset the boy by using his things. 

But then Harry realized that James must know that Harry doesn’t have toiletries or anything else– and that James wasn’t likely to tell Harry to do something that would upset his son. So it must be alright for Harry to use the things in the loo.

James was still staring at him, so Harry nodded and stepped back into the bedroom so he could grab an outfit to change into after his shower. 

When Harry went back out into the hallway, James had finished packing the boxes back into the attic. “I forgot to tell you,” James said, “that the clean towels are in the closet in the loo, and to feel free to use whatever products you find in the shower.” 

It was nice to have that confirmed. “Thank you,” Harry said, once more holding back the ‘sir’ with difficulty. 

“No problem,” James said, smiling. “When you’re done, come downstairs. Lunch should be all ready to go.” 

Harry nodded and slipped into the loo. He set the clean clothes on the counter by the sink and opened up the closet. The promised towels were there, as were a good deal of other linens. Harry picked a towel at random and slung it over the shower door. 

A glance at the plumbing showed that it was magical, much to Harry’s relief. No need to fiddle around with the faucets, hoping to stumble upon the right way to make them work. 

Once he had gotten into the shower and was standing under the spray, soaping up his hair, his earlier worry over encroaching on the other Harry’s space rose up again. Because here he was, using the boy’s shower and toiletries, all so he could wear the other boy’s clothes. 

At least the other Harry wasn’t here now. Harry still had some time before he would have to deal with the other boy’s inevitable anger. 

Maybe– maybe if Harry reassured the other Harry that he wasn’t trying to steal his parents, then the other Harry wouldn’t be quite so angry. However futile it may be, Harry knew that he had to try. He didn’t think he could bear it if this place that already felt like home became something similar to the Dursley’s household. 

Because if the other Harry decided to hate him, then it would be a simple matter for him to convince his parents to hate Harry, too. 

Harry shook his head, the water spraying down onto his head splashing around in a circle around his body. He didn’t know for sure that this other Harry would be anything like Dudley. Though, with Harry’s luck, he would be even worse. 

No. 

Harry couldn’t think like that. Not now, not when Lily and James were waiting with lunch. He would just have to wait and hope and see. 

“Did you have a nice shower?” Lily asked. She was sitting at the kitchen table with several stacks of paperwork in front of her. 

“I did, thank you,” Harry said. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his hair dripping into the collar of the shirt he was wearing. 

“And the clothes look like they fit you alright?” she asked. 

Harry nodded, the reminder bringing a smile to his face. They fit him perfectly– and, on top of that, weren’t torn to pieces like some of the hand-me-downs Harry had received from Dudley had been. 

“So how does grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup sound for lunch?” James asked. He was standing over by the stove, flipping one of the aforementioned sandwiches over. 

Harry’s stomach rumbled. He blushed and pressed his hand into it, hoping it would get the message. “That sounds great,” he mumbled. 

“Lunch will be ready soon enough,” James said, flipping a sandwich out of the pan and onto a waiting plate. 

Harry nodded, though no one was looking at him at the moment. He continued to hover in the doorway, uncertain of what he ought to be doing. The table Lily was seated at was already set for the three of them and James seemed to have the actual food preparation well in hand. 

But it didn’t feel right to just sit down while James was still working, so Harry continued to stand in the doorway. 

Until Lily glanced up from– grading?– and saw him. “Have a seat Harry,” she said, patting the seat next to her. 

Harry sat down in the indicated seat, nervously sliding his hands under his legs. The silence that hung in the air was far from the most uncomfortable that Harry had experienced, but there was something about the lingering silence that made Harry tense. 

It was fortunate, then, that James had been correct in saying that lunch would soon be ready. James was setting the food in the middle of the table long before Harry had managed to start babbling to fill the silence.

Harry waited for Lily and James to serve themselves before ladling out a small amount of soup into his bowl and taking a single sandwich for himself. 

“So Lily,” James said, as he methodically ripped his sandwich into bite sized pieces, “how’re the students doing this time?” 

Lily swallowed her bite, then sighed. “The closer we get to summer, the less effort they put into their assignments. Not,” she added with a rueful grin, “that I blame them– or, for that matter, am surprised. It just makes for grading that takes far more time.” 

Looking at Harry, James said, “The worse an assignment is, the longer it takes Lily to grade. Unless, of course, they just haven’t done it all, but not too many students do that at this point in the year. They respect her too much for that.” 

That last bit was said with a heavy wink in Lily’s direction. Lily chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Respect is one word for it, sure,” Lily said. “They really are coming along nicely, though. Even these,” she gestured at the stacks of papers on the table, “their half-hearted efforts, are still far better executed than anything they could have managed at the beginning of the year.” 

The light of pride in her eyes was hard to look away from. Harry was drawn to it like a moth to a light on a summer evening. Harry’s grip tightened around the spoon in his hand, and even without fully comprehending what he was doing, he resolved to put that look in her eyes one day, all on his own. 

The moment ended, and Harry looked away once more. He focused on eating, trying to remember the manners that Hermione forced on him and Ron, trying not to remember how he would never see them again. 

“Are we still on for dinner with Sirius and Severus tonight, by the way?” Lily asked. 

At that name, at Sirius’s name, Harry flinched back as though struck, his spoon clattering out of his hand and into the soup bowl waiting below. 

Lily and James both looked at him, concern in their gazes. 

“Harry?” Lily asked. 

“What’s wrong?” James asked. 

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head. Too soon. It was too soon, and he hadn’t even remembered that James and Sirius had been– were – best friends, so of course Sirius would be hanging about here a lot. And now Harry would have to come face to face with his godfather, the man he had killed, and know that he was not the person Harry wanted him to be. 

“Maybe we should call off Saturday night dinner,” Lily said, concern heavy in her voice.

Harry’s head snapped back up. “What?” he demanded. “No, you can’t.” 

The concern in both their eyes shifted to confusion.

“Don’t– you can’t change your plans because of me,” Harry said. 

“Why not?” James asked, baffled. 

Harry shook his head. It just didn’t make sense for them to cancel their plans for him. That was all. It had nothing to do with the part of Harry that longed to see Sirius’s face again, despite the pain he knew it would cause him. “I’m really fine,” Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face to reassure them. 

“It’s no trouble at all to cancel, though,” Lily insisted. “They’re around here all the time. It won’t hurt us to miss a Saturday dinner.” 

Harry felt torn. The continued assurance that it was okay to cancel– it felt like it had earlier, when Lily and James had said that he only needed to speak to the Unspeakables again if he wanted to. It was a choice, and Harry didn’t much know what to do with choices. 

But he knew that he couldn’t take away their chance– his chance– to see Sirius, so Harry shook his head again. “It’s fine,” he said, “really, Saturday night dinner sounds fun.” 

James cracked a grin. “That’s right!” he said. “It is!” 

Lily rolled her eyes, though the concern in them had yet to completely fade away. “James enjoys the opportunity to pretend he’s a teenager again and tussle with his friends.” 

Harry smiled and nodded, glad that he hadn’t taken this opportunity away. He picked up his spoon and focused on consuming his lunch as James rambled about how good it was for adults to let loose, and maybe you should try it once in a while, Lily? 

Once he was done eating, Harry took his dish to the sink and started running the water so he could wash it. 

“Harry?” Lily asked. “What are you doing?” 

Harry blinked, then looked at Lily, a quizzical expression on his face. “I’m washing my dish?” he asked. 

“I thought Liz and Sue had said that you’d had your wand on you when you came here, do we need to go get you a wand too?” James said, concerned. 

“I do have my wand,” Harry said. “I just– what about the Trace?” 

“The Trace? We’re home, though, so there’s nothing to worry about,” James said. 

“Wait,” Lily said, thoughtful, “Harry’s not from this universe, so would his Trace register at the Ministry, even when we’re out?” 

Harry shrugged, helpless. It wasn’t like he had any more insight into this situation than they did. 

“I’m not sure,” James said. “But whatever the case, we’re home , so he can certainly use his magic to clean his dishes.” 

They seemed so casual about saying that Harry could just– use his magic outside of school. But Harry had been in so much trouble over that very thing that his heart pounded as he drew his wand. He glanced at Lily and James, but they had returned to their conversation. 

Apparently, Harry doing magic outside of Hogwarts was so trivial they didn’t feel the need to watch it. So that must mean that it was fine for him to use it. 

“ Scourgify,” Harry cast. His dish was clean in a flash. He put the dish away, keeping an eye on the window, watching for an owl to come from the Ministry. 

“So, Harry, what were you planning to do this afternoon?” James asked. 

Harry tore his eyes from the window. “Er– I don’t know?” 

James grinned.

“Whatever he’s about to suggest doing with you,” Lily interrupted, “please remember that you have the right to refuse his offer.” 

Harry nodded and cast another nervous glance out the window, at the bird-free sky. 

“Anyways– I was going to suggest that we go flying together,” James said. 

Harry’s head whipped around to stare at James. “Really?” he asked, excited. 

James’s grin grew wider and he got up from his seat. “Yes, really!” 

Then Harry’s heart sank in disappointment. “I don’t have a broom, though.” 

“That’s no trouble at all. I’m sure we have an old broom lying around that you can use.”

The excitement flooded back into his veins. “I’d love that,” Harry said. And this time, the smile he directed at James was genuine. 

“We should probably go in for dinner soon,” James called. 

Harry knew that he was right, but he didn’t want to admit it yet. He had had so much fun this afternoon, flying around with James, carefree. It had been the perfect distraction from the upcoming dinner. 

James was as good at flying as everyone had always said he was. And he knew tricks that Harry had never seen before– tricks that he was willing to demonstrate for Harry as many times as it took for Harry to get it down. 

But they were having company over dinner– even if it was just Sirius and… someone else? So they should try not to be late. 

“Yeah,” Harry called back, then pushed the broom into a gentle dive. He was flying a Comet 260, and after all the flying they’d been doing, the broom was starting to shake from the exertion. So gentle maneuvers were for the best. 

Once Harry landed, he handed the broom to James and tried to ignore his nerves over the evening to come. 

“Wait for me while I put these away?” James asked. 

“Sure,” Harry said. He leaned against a tree while James hurried over to the shed where the brooms– and miscellaneous gardening supplies– were kept. 

Flying with James had been an incredible experience. One that Harry had never in his wildest dreams thought he’d be able to have. But here he was, waiting for his– for James to put their brooms away before dinner. 

Harry rubbed at his chest, trying to soothe away the odd pain he felt there. 

“Keeping up with your– with an old man isn’t as easy as it looks, is it?” James asked, a smug smile on his face. 

Harry smiled back, but he had no idea what to say. His instincts yelled at him, telling him to be polite and placating. But from what Harry knew and had seen of James, James would want him to try and banter back. 

The moment passed before Harry could manage a response. 

“Let’s go in,” James said, clapping a hand onto Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry had to stop himself from reaching up to rub at the spot; the friendly contact made that ache in his chest somehow worse. 

“There you are,” Lily called from the kitchen as they walked into the backdoor. “Can one of you set the table? And get an extra chair from the dining room?” 

“Of course, dear,” James called. “Harry, you go get the chair, I’ll get started on setting the table since you don’t know where the dishes and things are yet.” He started walking into the kitchen.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. 

James paused, then turned to face Harry again. “Please don’t call me sir,” he said, pleading. 

Harry’s hand came up to rub at the spot where James’s hand had been. “Right– right, I’m sorry. I just forgot.” 

“Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us,” James said. Then he resumed his walk into the kitchen. 

Harry trailed behind him, then turned down the hallway towards the dining room. He grabbed a chair at random from the table and carried it back to the kitchen. 

James was standing at the cabinet, collecting the dishes they would need, so Harry set the chair down at the table. Then he shuffled the other chairs around so everyone would have enough space. 

“Perfect, Harry,” James said, setting down the dishes in his hand. Then he summoned the silverware and placemats from where he’d set them out on the counter. 

They made short work of setting the places. As Harry was putting down the filled water pitcher, the doorbell rang. 

“Would you mind getting that?” James asked. He was occupied with helping Lily drain the pasta. 

“Sure,” Harry said. He wiped his sweat-dampened hands off on his jeans, then stood up straight. This would be fine. He’d survived coming face to face with people who looked like his parents, so Sirius would be no trouble. 

Harry hurried through the house, then pulled the door open. His mouth dropped open in shock. Standing in front of him was Sirius. And there, with Sirius’s arm draped over his shoulders, was Snape. 

Severus Snape. 

A decidedly ungreasy Snape. 

“Well,” Snape snapped, “are you going to stand aside so we can come in, or are we supposed to stand on the doorstep all evening?”

Chapter Text

Sirius pulled his arm off of Snape’s shoulders, then slapped Snape across the back of the head, the action shockingly playful. “Don’t be a prat,” Sirius said.

Harry was standing in the doorway, too overcome with shock to step aside or move at all. 

“Harry has obviously been so anxious to see me that he’s refusing to move until I greet him properly,” Sirius said with a lopsided grin. 

Harry continued to stand there, blocking the entryway, frozen. 

Then Sirius grabbed him, wrapping his arms around Harry, holding him close and tight. It was a horrible facsimile of the hugs that Harry could, in vivid detail, remember receiving from his Sirius. Habit asserted itself, however, and Harry’s arms came up to rest on Sirius’s back, as they always did. 

Harry was aware of Snape, who was still standing behind Sirius on the front doorstep. But to Harry’s surprise, the man failed to say anything derisive or insulting– this uncharacteristic behavior did not help Harry recover from the shock of seeing Sirius’s arm around Snape. Harry refused to consider the specific implications of their positioning, but even aside from that, their peaceful coexistence felt wrong and unnatural. 

Then Sirius started to rub circles onto Harry’s back. The motion was meant to be soothing, meant to help Harry relax his tense muscles, but it was so reminiscent of Sirius–  Harry’s Sirius– that Harry choked on a sob, catching it painfully in his throat. 

Harry pressed his face into the crook of Sirius’s neck and took in a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the tears back. The hand on his back stilled, and Sirius shifted his grip so his arms were extended and his palms were on Harry’s shoulders. 

“Aren’t you going to come in?” James called, from the kitchen. 

Sirius took a step forward, maneuvering both he and Harry further into the house, leaving room for Snape to follow them inside. “Just a moment, James!” Sirius called back.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Sirius asked. Sirius attempted to make eye contact, but Harry looked away, fixing his gaze on the wall behind Sirius. 

Harry shrugged under the weight of Sirius’s palms on his shoulders. He blinked his eyes several times in quick succession, to try and dry his eyes further. “I’m fine,” Harry said, forcing a smile that he knew wasn’t very convincing. 

Snape cleared his throat, drawing Harry’s attention. His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot on the ground, impatient.  

“Right you are, Severus, dinner awaits,” Sirius said, releasing Harry’s shoulders. Sirius gave Harry’s hair a last affectionate ruffle, then called out, “We’ll be right there, I just had some important business to take care of.” 

The last was said with a conspiratable wink at Harry, who was much too dazed to return it– or do much of anything else. 

“Come along, Severus,” Sirius said, taking Snape’s hand in his own, “we mustn’t let James– or you– get your panties in a twist.” 

Harry followed along behind them, feeling as though he had departed for another plane of existence– again. When they passed the washroom, Harry darted towards it. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said. “I just need to go.” 

“Don’t take too long. I want to get to know my new favorite Potter,” Sirius said.

“Hey!” James called. “I heard that!” 

Harry closed the washroom door behind him. Even through the door, he could hear Sirius bantering back and forth with James, along with the occasional snide remark from Lily or Snape. Harry pressed his back to the closed door and slid down until he was in a seated position on the floor. 

It was too much, it was all too much.  

Harry had known that Sirius would be here, alive and well. But Harry hadn’t known just how hard it would be to see him again. It hadn’t been long at all– only a day or two– since Harry had seen his Sirius die in front of him. 

And there had not been any time since then for Harry to grieve. 

Seeing Sirius again so soon had thrown Harry off balance in ways he hadn’t ever dreamed of.

Harry had Sirius back– but in the worst possible way. Because it wasn’t really Sirius, just as it wasn’t really his parents, or even the same Snape. Though that much was obvious, given how well this Snape seemed to get along with both Sirius and James. 

This thought, the thought of how well Snape seemed to get along with Sirius, brought back the image of the two men on the front doorstep. Harry sucked in a breath and pressed his fingers into his eyes to try and ward away the image of Sirius standing with his arm around Snape. 

The image disappeared, lost in the sea of static and blooming splotches of white where he applied the most pressure to his eyes. 

The distraction had proved helpful, though. Harry no longer felt so overwhelmed by the new-familiar faces around him. Harry climbed to his feet and turned on the tap, splashing some water onto his face to clear the evidence of his tears away.                    

Harry stared into his reflection’s eyes and gripped the edges of the sink. He could do this. He could get through this dinner, and he would do it without breaking down again. 

With a sharp gesture, he turned off the tap and straightened up. He wiped off his face as best as he could with his sleeves and took in a deep steadying breath. 

This will be good , Harry decided. I can use this opportunity to get to know how Lily and James interact with their friends. And I’ll get to see Sirius again.

This decided upon, Harry nodded decisively, ripped his eyes from the mirror, and stepped out of the loo. Moments later, he was walking into the bright and cheery atmosphere of the kitchen. 

“Harry!” James exclaimed, “We were just wondering if we ought to send someone to see if you’d gotten lost in there!” 

“I was alright,” said Harry, a slight smile coming onto his face. 

“Go ahead and take your seat, Harry. We were just waiting for you to get started!” Lily said. 

Harry couldn’t help the jolt of mild surprise that went through him. They’d all waited for him. He smiled through it, though, and went to take his seat. He was positioned between Sirius and Lily, with James across from him and Snape the furthest away. 

Harry couldn’t quite decide how he felt about this. On the one hand, Harry was quite glad to have Snape as far away as possible. On the other, Sirius was the most painful person for Harry to be confronted with. Sirius was the only one Harry had known– well, before . It might have been easier for Harry if there’d been some distance between them. 

But then Sirius playfully nudged Harry in the ribs as he made an inane joke. This drew out a laugh from Harry, and the subsequent look of delight on Sirius’s face made it clear that this arrangement had all been Sirius’s doing. Somehow, that fact made the discomfort of Sirius’s proximity that much easier to bear. 

With Harry seated and everyone else settled, James summoned the platters of food from the kitchen counters. The others began passing the plates around with practised ease, and Harry was able to fall into the rhythm without much effort. 

“This smells delicious,” Harry said as he served himself a particularly aromatic dish. 

“Of course it does,” Snape said. “It was Lily’s turn to cook, and she, at least, is competent.” This was said with a pointed look in Sirius’s direction. 

Sirius shrugged. “What happens in my kitchen is meant to stay in my kitchen,” he said, mouth full of food. 

“It is also my kitchen, so I believe I can share what happens there as I wish,” said Snape, raising a single eyebrow. 

Sirius flung a pea at Snape, nailing him right in the nose. “ Shh, ” Sirius hissed. “You’re going to scare Harry off!” 

“How could sharing stories about your– shall we say, cooking prowess– scare him off? And scare him off from what, exactly?” Snape asked. 

Sirius flung another pea at Snape, but Snape leaned to the side, dodging it. “If he thinks our kitchen is a hazard, then he might not want to visit, you prat!” Sirius exclaimed, sending another pea at Snape’s face. 

This time, Lily had her wand at the ready and deflected the pea herself. “Sirius, you aren’t exactly making a good impression by tossing peas at your husband. Have you considered actually talking to Harry?” 

Wait. Husband? Harry looked from Sirius, to Snape, and back again. Snape– and Sirius? Married? Harry’s eyes found Sirius’s left hand, and sure enough, there was a wedding ring. 

Harry tore his eyes away and fixed them on his plate. He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth and decided that he would not think about that revelation for the sake of his sanity.

Sirius set down the fork he’d been using to fling his peas and turned to face Harry, a wide– almost manic– grin on his face. 

Harry swallowed his bite of food and forced a somewhat nervous smile in return. 

Snape flung a pea at Sirius. “Don’t smile like that. You look like you are seconds from biting Harry’s head off, or something equally off-putting.” 

Harry’s smile froze on his face, and he glanced in shock at Snape. 

“Right, well,” Sirius said, louder than he needed to, “it’s nice to have you here, Harry.” 

Harry turned his gaze back to Sirius. “It’s, er, nice to be here?” This was the oddest small talk Harry had ever engaged in. 

James face-palmed. 

“How about that World Cup, eh? I like the Falmouth Falcons’s chances, myself,” Sirius said. 

Harry took a moment to poke at his food. “I, uh, don’t know? I mean– it might be different, er, here.” 

“Alright, I know I said to talk to him,” Lily interjected. “But this is just painful. Let Harry eat for now, and you can continue the world’s most awkward interrogation later.” 

Harry shot her a grateful look and shoveled a forkful of peas into his mouth. 

Sirius sighed, the sound laden with melodrama. “Fine, but I want to be on Harry’s team for whatever we’re playing tonight– whose turn is it to choose, again?” 

“It’s mine,” said Lily, smug. 

“So, what are we playing?” Harry asked. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Lily said. “It largely depends on how everyone behaves throughout the remainder of the meal.” 

“She always does this, Harry,” James said. “She always hopes it’ll make us behave better or something, but the problem is that we’re all incorrigible.” 

“It’s more that I’m reserving the right to obtain petty revenge when they inevitably act like buffoons,” Lily said, even more smug. 

The rest of the dinner passed with a reasonable degree of peace, as measured by the diminished number of peas flung across the table. Harry was glad that no one had targeted him, though he did have to wonder why Lily would make peas when she knew how childish everyone present could be. 

When everyone was at last done with dinner, James turned to Lily, a pleading expression on his face. “Lily dearest, won’t you please tell us what game we’re playing tonight?” 

Lily leaned back in her seat and tapped her finger against her chin, staring off into the distance in thought. “I have decided,” she said, after several long moments. “We will be playing Jenga.” With this, she rose from her seat and strode off into the sitting room. 

The rest of the others all stood as well, so Harry scrambled to his feet in his haste to copy them. 

“Now, it’s our turn to clean the kitchen,” James said. “Magic makes it quick and easy, though, so you can go help Lily with setting up the game, if you like.” 

Harry paused, torn with indecision. But then he saw that Snape and Sirius were already well on their way to being done with clearing the table. “I think I’ll help Lily set up,” he said. 

“Good choice! We’ll be joining you in a moment or two,” said James. 

Harry walked off to the sitting room. Lily was sitting cross-legged by the coffee table and stacking the wooden Jenga blocks. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Harry asked, sitting on the ground next to her. 

“I don’t think so,” Lily said. “We’d probably just knock the tower over if we both tried to stack them at the same time.” 

“Oh, alright,” Harry said. Maybe he should have stayed to help in the kitchen–

“Jenga is not a team game, Sirius,” James said, walking into the sitting room. 

Sirius was trailing behind him. “I think it could be!” Sirius protested. “You just don’t want me to steal Harry away while he’s on my team.” 

“What?” Harry asked. 

“Sirius is trying to bend the sacred rules of Jenga so he can spend more time with you,” James explained.

Lily raised her eyebrow. “I do believe I’m the game master tonight, and if Sirius wants to play Jenga with teams so badly, then I think we can manage that.” 

Sirius whooped, punching the air in his victory. 

“But,” Lily said, “I do have one condition.” 

Sirius lowered his raised fist, slow and tentative. “Condition?” 

“We remove you from the cooking rotation,” Lily said. 

Sirius froze. “That is low , Lily.” 

“Lily has been trying to get Sirius removed from the cooking rotation for years,” James said in an aside to Harry. “I’m interested to see if it works.” 

“I’ll remove myself for one cycle of the rotation,” Sirius said. 

“You’ll remove yourself from the rest of the rotations. Forever,” Lily countered. 

“That’s no fair,” Sirius said, pouting and crossing his arms. 

“But isn’t Sirius bad at cooking? Why does he want to be in the rotation?” Harry asked. 

“It is a matter of pride and honor ,” Sirius said. “Which is why I refuse to leave the rotation for more than three cycles.” 

“Such a shame you’re not more serious about this, Sirius. I suppose we’ll just have to play individual Jenga.” 

“No– wait. What if,” Sirius paused, and closed his eyes, “what if I leave the rotation for six months?” 

“One year, and you’ve got a deal,” Lily said, holding her hand out. 

Sirius opened his eyes and reluctantly took the proffered hand. “You drive a hard bargain, Lily.” 

“That I do. Now that that’s settled, let’s decide on the te–” Lily started to say. 

“Harry!” Sirius shouted. Then, calmer, “I call dibs on Harry for my team.” 

“Are you going to allow that, Lily?” James asked, incredulous. 

Lily hummed in thought. “I believe I will. I’m in a good mood now, thanks to saving my taste buds from the horrors of Sirius’s cooking for the next year.” 

Sirius dropped onto the ground next to Harry and nudged him in the ribs. “We’ve got this, Harry. None of the rest of these chumps stand a chance against our combined power.” 

“I’ve never played Jenga before,” Harry felt compelled to tell him. 

“Let me see your hand,” Sirius said, holding out his own, palm up. 

Harry gave him a curious look, but placed his left hand on top of Sirius’s. Sirius lifted and lowered both of their hands several times, then nodded decisively as he pulled his own hand back in. 

“As I thought,” Sirius said, “your hands are rock steady. Seekers usually have steady hands– all the better to nick the snitch at the last moment. Or so I’m told.” 

Harry frowned, wondering how Sirius knew he was a Seeker. He glanced over at James, who was currently engaged in Rock, Paper, Scissors with Snape. 

“When James floo-called to confirm dinner, he told us that you would be here too. And he told us a bit about you. Then he tried to extract promises to behave, but of course he got nowhere with that.” 

Harry nodded. “That much was obvious from the peas.” 

Sirius clapped his hand to his chest. “You wound me, Harry. I am deeply and personally wounded.” 

Harry smiled, but before he could respond, Lily clapped her hands. 

“Alright, now that the teams have been designated,” she began, blissfully ignoring the dark looks on James and Snape’s faces behind her, “we can get this party started!” 

Sirius sat up straight and pointed first at James, then at Snape. “You? And you? On a team together? Oh this will be good .” 

“This is all Lily’s fault,” James said, glowering at Lily. 

“I am unsure why you thought I would abide by your little ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ competition. This way is so much more fun,” said Lily, delighted. 

“But what will you be doing, Lily?” Harry asked. 

“I’ll be sitting this round out; we’ll mix up the teams for the next round.” 

“Wait, what?” Sirius protested. “But I called dibs on Harry!” 

“You called dibs on Harry for this game, yes,” Lily said. “But that only lasts for the one round.” 

“Can we get started already?” James whined. “I wanna get this over with.” He glared at Snape out of the corner of his eye. 

“Yes, I would also like to get this over with,” Snape agreed. 

Harry slid in closer to the tower of blocks on the coffee table, preparing to play. He thought that if it weren’t for the utter surreality of the situation, he would have found everything about this hilarious. But with the presence of these four people, all coexisting and alive – it was hard to overcome that so he could laugh with them. 

Sirius huffed and joined Harry in leaning in towards the tower. “A round of Jenga with you all to myself is well worth my pride and dignity,” Sirius said to Harry. 

“I have a coin we can flip to see who goes first,” Lily said, holding up a sickle. 

“Harry should get to call it,” Sirius said. “It is his first game night with us, after all.” 

“James? Severus? Do you agree?” Lily asked. 

James and Snape exchanged a look. 

“I think it’s fine,” James said.

Snape sighed. “Very well. Harry can call it.” 

Harry did a double take at the sound of his first name coming from Snape. Then he recovered and gave his full attention to Lily. 

“Are you ready to call it, Harry?” Lily asked. 

Harry nodded, fixing his eyes on the coin in her hand. She flipped it into the air. 

“Tails!” Harry called. 

“Good choice,” Sirius muttered, eliciting a smile from Harry. 

Lily caught the coin in one palm, then turned it over onto the back of her other hand. “Tails it is! Harry, Sirius, who would you like to go first?” 

Sirius glanced at Harry, and Harry shrugged. “We’ll go first, then,” Sirius said. 

“Of course you will,” said James. 

Sirius flashed him a grin, then turned to Harry again. “I think we ought to just take turns going. Would you like me to take the first turn of the game? Since you said you haven’t played before, I could show you how it goes.” 

“That sounds good,” said Harry, shifting forward attentively. 

“Right. The first thing you do is look for an obviously loose block,” Sirius said. He got to his feet and circled the coffee table, eyeing the tower carefully. “Lily seems to have done a good job stacking them, though, so nothing is standing out.” 

Harry glanced at Lily. She was sitting on the couch, a pleased expression on her face. 

“The next thing you try is tapping the blocks,” Sirius seated himself next to the tower, flexed his hands, and started tapping on blocks. When one moved, he stopped. “See, Harry? That’s what you’re looking for, one of the blocks to just slide out of position.” 

Sirius tapped the same block that had moved before, dislodging it further. Then he pinched the end that poked out from the rest of the tower and pulled it out smoothly. He placed it on top of the tower and leaned back. 

“And that, Harry, is how it’s done,” Sirius announced. 

From there, the evening blurred into a haze of gameplay and banter. Their first game of Jenga was, by far, the longest. Sirius went to absurd lengths to extend the game. He even said that he was doing it to maximize the time he got to spend with Harry on his team. 

Thanks to Sirius’s efforts, Harry and Sirius managed to win the first round of the game. The next round, Snape sat out, and Lily and Harry competed against James and Sirius. Harry’s team won again, but by the end of the round, Harry was yawning. 

As James started to restack the blocks, Harry stretched. He rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“If you don’t mind, I’m getting tired,” Harry said, a light flush spreading over his face. “So I think I’ll head up to bed now.” 

“That’s perfectly alright,” said Lily. 

Harry got to his feet. 

“Wait! I almost forgot–  Accio new toothbrush ,” Lily cast, flourishing her wand. Moments later a toothbrush, still in its packaging, flew into her waiting hand. “This is for you,” Lily said, holding the toothbrush out for Harry to take. 

Harry leaned over and took it. “Thank you.” 

“Wait, Harry,” James said, getting to his feet. “You can’t go to bed without a good night hug.” 

Harry froze for a moment as James approached, arms outstretched. Then he raised his own arms in response and was enveloped in James’s embrace. 

The hug was both painful and soothing. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this was what hugs from his dad would have felt like. 

Harry grit his teeth and pushed the thought away. He couldn’t linger on that and have any hope of making it through the rest of the evening without breaking down again. He rested his chin on James’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut, determined to hold it together. James scrubbed at Harry’s back for a moment, then released him from the hug. 

“Good night, kiddo,” James said, then stepped away. 

“Hey, wait a second,” Sirius said, jumping to his feet. “If James gets a good night hug, then so do I,” Sirius exclaimed. He barrelled forward and Harry staggered back from the force of the hug. Harry forced himself to keep his eyes open this time, to fend off the memories of his Sirius. 

When Sirius finally released him, Lily was standing there waiting, arms outstretched. 

“The hugs looked nice,” she said, wrapping her arms carefully around Harry. 

The gentleness Lily used to hug him was somehow the worst yet. She held him like he was something fragile, something that needed to be handled with care. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to contain the tears he now knew were inevitable, but he felt a few tears escape down his face anyways.  

Lily pulled away, but before she released him, she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. Harry sucked in a painful breath and took a step backwards. 

Harry was about to turn away, to make his escape upstairs, but then Snape stepped in, wrapping his arms around Harry. Harry froze, then patted the man’s back. The pain in his chest eased, replaced by the overwhelming awkwardness of the situation. 

Snape’s hug was the briefest of all. When Harry was finally free, he took another step back. He raised his hand in a brief wave. “Good night, everyone.” 

Then he turned and walked away, the sounds of the others’ goodnight wishes following him upstairs. 

Chapter Text

Lily sat back down on the couch after Harry– the new Harry– had gone off to bed. It was still a bit early to go to sleep, but Lily didn’t blame him for it as she herself was already feeling fatigued. 

Her day had started very early in the morning, when she and James had been awoken by a call from the Ministry. An Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries had told them that someone who appeared to be their son was in their custody and needed to be picked up. 

There had been a pause, then, and at first, Lily had thought that Harry was at the Ministry because he had gotten himself into some kind of trouble. That was, until her sluggish, early-morning mind had caught up to the fact that Harry was not the type to get into that much trouble. And since he was at Hogwarts, he neither had the reason to be at the Ministry, nor the means to get there. 

Somehow, though, the truth had been far more improbable than her first ridiculous assumption. 

The Unspeakable had explained that a different Harry had dimension-traveled to their universe. Then they had requested that Lily and James come to take him in. 

Lily wanted to believe that she and James had been called to take in the dimension traveler because they were the right people for the job. After all, she and James were married, well-employed, and proven parents. But her more sensible side knew that the Ministry was complacent, and that there was little chance that that much thought had gone into the decision on who to call.

It was far more probable that the Ministry had just wanted to get Harry out of their hands, and had called Lily and James solely because they were related to Harry. (It was also possible that Tonks, an employee in the Department of Mysteries, had had something to do with the call, but they were so new there that it didn’t seem likely.)

As disappointing as that reasoning was, Lily hadn’t been too upset about it because the outcome was one that she desired. 

Over the years, she and James had often considered having another child, but the circumstances had never seemed right. This call from the Ministry had been the perfect opportunity– a child needed a home, and they had room in their hearts. 

So Lily had left with James for the Ministry as soon as she could, eager to meet this new Harry Potter. 

On their way to the Ministry, Lily and James had discussed how they would approach meeting this Harry. Lily had thought that the best course of action would be to treat this Harry like they would treat one of their Harry’s friends, at least for now. 

This new Harry still had parents after all, and the last thing Lily had wanted to do was make him think that she and James were trying to replace his true parents. And with that was the possibility that this Harry would never seek to view them as anything more than the people who had taken him in. 

James had agreed that they should be friendly and welcoming, without being overtly parental. This way, Harry would start out as a guest in their home, and Lily and James would be able to manage their expectations for their relationship with Harry. 

That plan had shattered when Harry revealed that his parents were dead. 

This revelation had shocked Lily. She had needed to stop herself from scooping Harry into a tight hug and reassuring him over and over that she and James were still alive and here for him. 

The restraint had been necessary because Harry’s behavior suggested that such an overt act of affection would not have been well received. This Harry was too skittish, too nervous, to accept such kindness from people who he likely saw as ghosts. Harry had recognized her and James, after all, so they must look like their counterparts from Harry’s world. And if Harry was used to them being dead, then seeing them alive must be painful and haunting. 

So Lily had made a new plan to one day become parental to Harry.

After they had left the Department of Ministries, everything had gone as well as could be expected. She knew that she and James had been, well, over the top in a lot of ways. They’d played up their banter, doing their best to keep the mood light and jocular. At times, Lily had wondered if they were going too far and making fools of themselves. Her Harry certainly would have thought so. 

But this Harry…

This Harry had seemed to be almost awed by her and James’s interactions, judging by the way he watched them with wide eyes during those times when he hadn’t been trying to distance himself from them. But Lily hadn’t thought that these attempts were born of embarrassment. Rather, Harry had drifted away from them in a way that seemed casual.  

Like Harry was used to not being wanted. 

By the time they had made it to breakfast, Lily had been convinced that whoever had taken Harry in after she and James had died had not been a suitable guardian. 

As a schoolteacher, Lily attended annual seminars on recognizing the signs of mistreatment in children. Thankfully, she hadn’t had much cause to exercise those particular skills, but now they were coming in handy, allowing her to recognize the signs in Harry. 

The way he avoided eye contact, the way he apologized profusely for bumping into James, the way he avoided talking about his past. Then there was his behavior at breakfast and the way he seemed so much smaller than her Harry. 

At first, Lily had hoped that she was overreacting since these were all observations that she could have rationalized away. 

But then she and James had discussed their observations after leaving Harry alone in his room. As an Auror, James was also trained in recognizing signs of mistreatment, and he had noticed the same things that Lily had. There wasn’t much they could really do for Harry, though, as much as doing nothing went against the grain. 

Because the biggest thing that Lily– and James– could do when they made such a discovery while on the job was remove the child from their home. That didn’t help much in this case because Harry had already been removed from the toxic environment. He could never return there, would never see those toxic people again. 

So all Lily could do for him was what she had already planned to do: love and support him. 

This determination only grew stronger as she had spent more time with Harry. And now, after spending the evening with him, it was hard to resist the urge to start drafting adoption papers.

“So what did you think of Harry?” James asked, startling Lily out of her reverie. 

Lily shot him an irritated look and raised her wand to cast privacy wards. 

“I already cast them. You were just too lost in thought to notice,” James said, smiling. 

Lily shoved her wand back into its holster and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It was a reasonable concern, as it has been a while since we have needed to remember privacy wards, after all.” 

“Fair enough,” James replied with a shrug. He turned to face Sirius and Severus. “Now, answer the question.”

Lily watched with interest as a dreamy expression fell over Sirius’s face. 

“I love him already,” said Sirius. 

Severus sent Sirius a fond look. “You are just hoping that this Harry is your chance to be a godfather,” he said. 

The dreamy expression crumpled away, and Sirius scrunched his nose at Severus. “You know how long I’ve regretted turning down the offer to be our Harry’s godfather. This is my chance to be more than just the cool uncle!” 

“Yes, Sirius, I know. And I do like this Harry as well. There’s something about him…” Severus trailed off, glancing thoughtfully in the approximate direction of Harry’s room. 

Sirius nodded. “I know what you mean,” he said, then narrowed his eyes and made hard eye contact with Severus. 

Severus’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh I do hope we’re wrong.” 

It took a moment for Lily to reason out what they were talking about, but when she did, her conversation with James came back to her. She and James exchanged a heavy look. “James and I had the same thought,” she said. 

Sirius bounced his leg up and down several times. “I mean, what can we do, though? We’ve just met the kid, Merlin knows Severus and I know how long it takes to open up about this stuff.” 

“Additionally,” Severus added, “he has already been taken away from whoever did this, and there is no avenue for justice open for him. He must see little reason to confide in us.” 

James leaned forward. “That may be for the best, though. Because on the flip side of that, there’s no possibility that Harry will ever encounter– whoever they are– again. That might bring a certain peace of mind.” 

Sirius and Severus exchanged a look. 

“It honestly just depends on the person,” Sirius said with a shrug. “There’s no way to tell how Harry will react.” 

“And we may never know what his reaction is to these particular revelations– it all depends on when he has them himself and how much he trusts us when he does,” Severus said. 

Sirius dramatically threw himself back against the couch. “I just wish there was more we could do .” 

Lily nodded. She had already come to terms with that particular problem, but it still wasn’t easy to accept that the best thing she– and any of the others– could do was continue to build a relationship with Harry. 

“In better news,” James exclaimed into the melancholy silence, “we’ll finally have even teams for pickup Quidditch!”

Lily smiled fondly at her ridiculous husband. 

Sirius straightened up, an excited grin spreading across his face. “That’s right, you said you were planning to ask him to fly this afternoon. How did that go?”

“Obviously he agreed to fly– I mean, he is a Potter– and on top of that, he told us that he’s the Seeker of his team. Anyways, I put him on the Comet 260 and rode the old Nimbus 2000 myself. We didn’t do much more than race around, but Sirius, he was a natural in the air. That was the most relaxed I’ve seen him since we met. He’s just like my Harry– born to fly.”

“Excellent,” said Sirius, grinning.

Lily reached over and flicked Sirius on the back of the head. “You will not pressure that poor boy into doing anything he does not want to do. From the looks of him, he’ll agree to do just about anything we ask, and if I see any of you,” Lily paused, leveling a heavy glare at all the men in the room, “taking advantage of Harry, you will not like the consequences.” 

Sirius held up his hands in placation. “We’ll be good, I swear!”  

“Yeah,” James agreed. He paused for a moment, then continued. “I think there really must be something special about that boy. It’s only been a day, and you’re not the only one, Lily, who’s feeling so protective and fond of him. It’s incredible.” 

Lily glared at the men one last time for good measure. Her thoughts drifted towards her Harry. “You know, I have to wonder if Harry– our Harry, that is– will view this new Harry as a younger brother.” 

Lily was nearly certain that both Harrys were the same age, but this new Harry was noticeably smaller than her Harry– and a new addition to the household to boot. So it wasn’t unreasonable for her son to feel like this new Harry was something of a younger brother.  

“You think so?” Severus asked. “Does that mean you think the boys will get along well?” 

“I think they’ll get on like a house on fire,” said James. 

“I would not be so sure,” Severus cautioned. “Your son is used to being an only child and receiving all of your attention. And it is clear that this new Harry will need your attention– and lots of it. There is bound to be some jealousy there, I would think."

Lily exchanged a look with James. She could understand Severus’s concerns– she was, of course, well aware of the jealousy that could arise in a sibling– but she was confident that she and James could handle the situation. Her Harry was kind-hearted, and Lily was sure that if she and James explained the situation, he would be understanding. 

And if nothing else, Harry spent a large portion of the summer away at Quidditch camp– giving her new Harry more time to settle in. 

“Lily and I will be sure to keep our eyes out for problems like that,” James assured Severus. 

“Very well, I just thought to warn you of that possibility. I am merely being realistic,” Severus said. 

“I know, Sev, and we do appreciate it. But we also have the situation under control,” Lily said. 

Neither Lily nor James had ever been the jealous older sibling. But while Lily had never been in the older sibling’s position, she had seen the effect that jealousy could have. She had seen the things that her parents had done– and not done– that had made the situation between her and her sister worse. 

So Lily was confident that, with the proper vigilance and communication, she and James could ensure that both Harrys were happy and settled. 

Sirius then changed the subject to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Lily tuned him and James out, exchanging an exasperated look with Severus as she did. Once James and Sirius got going on Quidditch, there was little that could turn them off the topic. 

Lily leaned back against the couch cushions and turned her gaze in the direction of Harry’s room. She wondered how he was doing up there. 

This would be his first night here in their house, his first night in this universe that he would be conscious for. The first night he would spend without his friends and family. 

He must be feeling so alone. 

Lily’s heart ached with the need to go up there, to sit with him and let him know that he wasn’t alone. Except she knew that Harry was not yet in a place where he could accept such reassurances. And not only that, but those very reassurances would be little more than hollow lies at this point. 

Whatever experiences Harry had had with Lily– or James, Sirius, or Severus– in his own world, they had only met today. There was no telling how different any of them were from their counterparts, the versions of themselves that Harry knew.

And then there was the fact that she and James were dead in Harry’s world. All Lily knew was that they were dead there; she did not know how they had died, nor how old Harry had been when they died. 

She would have to keep the knowledge that Harry was used to her and James being dead in mind as she sought to get closer to him. It would surely be a driving force behind all their interactions, especially until Harry got used to seeing her and James alive and well. 

Lily sighed and checked on the conversation, only to find that James and Sirius had launched into their usual argument about the merits of the Hawkshead Attacking Formation against the Appleby Arrows’ defense. With another sigh, she checked the time and saw that it was getting a bit late. 

Making a show of stretching her arms out to the side, Lily yawned as widely as she could. 

Sirius was gesticulating to prove some point or another, and James looked away to shoot her a fond look. Then Sirius’s arms fell to his side, and he and Severus shared amused looks. 

“Alright, Lily,” Sirius said with a grin, “we get the message.” 

Lily stood up, stretching once more. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” she said.  

The others clambered to their feet as well. 

Thanks to Lily’s exhaustion, the rest of their goodbyes passed in a bit of a blur. They always went the same way, anyways. Sirius and James would banter for a bit longer, then Severus would get bored of it and pull Sirius towards the door. 

In the foyer, Lily would end up joining the banter. Eventually, she too would tire of it. She would open the front door and, in a motion that was half-joking, half-serious, shove both Sirius and Severus through it. 

They would all exchange their final farewells, express their disappointment with the long wait before their next dinner– exactly one week– and then Sirius and Severus would apparate away. 

At that point in the evening, Lily was always exhausted, even on normal days. James knew quite well that when she was like this, she needed her space. So he would go off to play gobstones against himself while Lily went upstairs to wash up for bed and decompress. 

It was once she was in bed that he would come upstairs and wash up himself. 

That night, when James joined her in bed, Lily sat up and set aside her book, signalling that she wanted to have a conversation before they went to sleep.

“What’s up, Lily?” James asked once he was settled in bed. 

Lily tucked her hair behind her ear. “I just thought we should have a conversation. Today has been a very long day and a lot has happened.” 

“That’s true,” James said. “We’re raising a second kid now, one that we’re going to try very hard with in order to do things right.” 

“But it’ll be worth it,” said Lily. 

“It’ll be worth it,” James confirmed. 

“It’s always good to see that we’re on the same page about these things,” Lily said, reaching out to pat James’s knee. 

“Speaking of the same page, did we ever decide who’s going to take off of work to go shopping with Harry?” James asked. 

“I don’t think we did,” Lily said. “But that morning is wall-to-wall meetings that I would be delighted to get out of, so I would be more than happy to do it.” 

“In a move surprising no one, I am once again behind on paperwork. It’s probably best if I don’t miss work,” James said with a disappointed sigh. 

Lily smirked. “Of course you are, dear. Now, did you remember to cancel Sunday morning brunch with your parents? Harry already seemed to have a hard enough time with dinner tonight, so I think brunch so soon after that would be too much.” 

James froze for a moment, and Lily prepared to get out of bed to send a late night owl. But then he relaxed again. “Ah, yes, I did send it. Right before setting up my gobstones game.” 

“Good, I would hate to give them even shorter notice for our cancellation. Especially since I’m sure they’ll be dying to meet Harry.” 

“Who wouldn’t be?” James asked, quirking a smile. 

“I can’t pretend to imagine anyone so depraved.” 

Lily and James exchanged fond smiles, then Lily sighed. 

“But we really ought to talk about how we plan to build our rapport with Harry,” Lily said. 

From there, she and James brainstormed ideas well into the night. They came up with potential conversation starters, discussed how they would react to certain scenarios, and did their best to mentally prepare for life with their new charge. 

When Lily finally fell asleep, she was exhausted to the bone, but it was worth it for the peace of mind her talk with James had given her. As she fell asleep, she relished the rightness of the world. She was content in bed with her husband and her new charge was sleeping peacefully just down the hall. 

Or so she had thought, until the desperate sobs tore through the quiet of the night, wrenching Lily from her slumber.

It had been years since Lily had been awoken by one of Harry’s nightmares, but despite the intervening time, she could tell that these sobs were different from her Harry’s childhood nightmares. The sobs she could hear were for more ragged and desperate than her Harry’s had ever been, and this was one more reminder, one more sign, that this Harry had hidden terrors in his past. 

Lily sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, ready to do her best to be the mother that Harry needed.

Chapter Text

Harry pulled the blankets up under his chin. He was utterly exhausted from the long day. The bed was soft beneath him and the room was dark, the perfect conditions for him to fall asleep...

It’s twilight, and there is a heavy mist covering the ground. Harry stumbles over something in his path. He crashes to the ground, scraping his elbows on the gravel. He picks himself up and sprints off again. He is desperate to avoid whoever, whatever is chasing him. 

Harry can’t stop to look back. He can’t risk being caught. He doesn’t know what will happen if he is caught; all he has is the pure instinct to get away. 

His heart is pounding and his breath is growing ragged. Harry feels himself slowing down. He knows this is dangerous, but he is unable to muster the energy to go any faster. 

The footsteps behind him grow louder. Then, without further warning, there is a sudden burst of pain in his back. This is why he can’t slow down, even for a second. Harry lunges forward, the motion worsening the pain in his back. Harry chokes back a sob and shoves the pain down, ignoring it so he can run faster. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spots a large carnival tent. The bright, garish colors are grating, but it is the only chance of escape that he can see. He swings around and heads directly for it. He has a desperate hope that he can escape his pursuer within its folds. 

Harry darts inside, then crashes to a halt, blinking in confusion. He is unable to process what he is seeing. Seconds later, the tent flap rustles behind him, and he launches forward. As he goes, he realizes that he is surrounded by mirrors. The tent is massive, cavernous, and filled with… with corridors of mirrors. 

And in the mirror in front of him, Harry finally lays eyes on his pursuer. 

Inhuman face, red eyes, and slit-like nose. 

Lord Voldemort. 

Heart pounding, Harry explodes into motion once more. He rushes into the gap in the mirrors ahead. It isn’t until he’s several endless moments into his headlong dash that he realizes this isn’t just a corridor of mirrors– it’s a maze of mirrors. 

Harry grins, though he feels no true satisfaction. A maze will give him the opportunity to lose Voldemort in its twisting depths. 

In the brief seconds before he passes each mirror, Harry’s eyes follow his reflections. It takes some time for Harry to realize why his reflections look so wrong. These are not normal mirrors. These are funhouse mirrors, warped and twisted. 

A mirror shatters behind him. Harry is forced to shake off the nigh useless information because Voldemort must be closing in on him. Harry has to run, to get away. 

Harry can’t help but think, as he runs for his life, that there’s something off about this funhouse. He knows he needs to focus on running, on getting to safety, but the errant thought is persistent. 

Harry does his best to squash the thought, to focus on running away. And it works. For a while. 

But then he spots a second figure in one of the mirrors. A figure aside from his own warped reflection. Harry whips his head around to get a clearer look, but there is nothing there. Nothing but his own reflection– ragged, drawn, distorted. 

Harry wonders if his pursuer is being reflected around the corners. The thought of his pursuer being so close spurs Harry to greater speeds than before. 

Harry’s feet pound on the ground. The sound beats a staccato against his heartbeat– stomp, THUMP-THUMP, stomp– in an endless cycle. 

His feet carry him deeper and deeper into the maze. Eventually, the only sounds are the pounding of his footsteps and his beating heart. 

Before Harry can relax, he sees another flicker in a mirror. He whips around and, for a moment, thinks he is seeing double. There are two of his reflections in the mirror. Except– they’re not identical. 

One of the reflections is taller than the other, and the shoulders are broader. This reflection is smiling, but his expression is filled with malice. 

Harry blinks, and the image is gone. 

Harry has come to a halt in front of the mirror. He squeezes his hands into fists and flees once more. As he careens away, as fast as he can, he spots a number of his reflections following him. They have glowing eyes and malicious grins. Their numbers increase as he passes them. 

His limbs are beginning to shake, the weight of his exertions pressing down on him. But he can’t stop. He can’t afford to.

Harry shakes off his exhaustion and picks up his pace. He is gasping for breath, now pursued by a hoard in addition to Voldemort. His eyes begin to water and his weariness reaches down to his bones. 

There are pieces of debris littering the ground under his feet. The further Harry goes, the more dense the debris becomes. Harry slides on something, then he manages to right himself before he can fall. His heart thuds irregularly, panicked at the time he has lost to his flounder. 

Then there is a laugh behind him. It sounds eerily familiar, though it contains none of the joy such a noise should have. Harry realizes that the laugh is his own, but distorted– warped. Then another voice joins in, and another, until the maze is filled with the discordant sounds of laughter. 

Harry knows he shouldn’t, but he careens to a halt. The reflections do too, and then Harry is surrounded. 

Chest heaving, Harry darts his eyes from one reflection to the next. The reflections have stopped laughing. Now they stand still, motionless. 

The reflections are all different. Some are wearing Quidditch uniforms. Some are wearing fine Muggle clothes. Some are wearing resplendent robes. They are all better dressed than Harry has ever been. Then one of the reflections ruffles its hair, mussing it up, and Harry realizes what the reflections are. Who they are.

Harry staggers backwards, down the hallway and away from the horde. 

But no matter how fast he goes, no matter how hard he tries, Harry cannot outrun them. Now that they can keep up with him, Harry is unable to ignore their presence. They dart in and out of his periphery, taunting him with their effortless motion and perfectly coiffed hair. 

These are alternate versions of himself. They are what Harry could have been, in another world. 

Harry gasps another deep breath and pushes forward, trying to place his feet more carefully now. A tendril of fear curls around his heart, a certainty settling in that he cannot last like this forever. 

Time passes, filled with the thudding of his heart and the pounding of his feet. Harry trips again and again, barely managing to recover each time, to stay on his feet and keep running. But each near-miss tires him further, his pace slowing bit by bit despite his best efforts to go faster. 

It is with a sense of inevitability that Harry finally trips and is flung through the air. He scrunches his eyes shut and braces for impact– and for the horde in the mirrors and Voldemort behind to catch him. 

Only he keeps falling. Harry opens his eyes and sees he is facing the floor of the funhouse. He twists around and realizes that the world has turned on its side. Harry is falling, and so are all the mirrors. 

Harry knows that if he reaches the wall of the funhouse, he’ll be crushed by the weight of the mirrors. And if he somehow survives that, Voldemort will catch him at last. Harry begins to struggle, to try and get out from under all the falling mirrors. His movements fail to make a difference, and he begins to panic, hyperventilating. 

“Harry!” a voice calls. 

Harry shakes his head to clear it, eyeing the mirrors and the reflections they contain, wondering if they are taunting him again. 

“Harry!” the voice calls again, insistent. 

Before Harry can react, he feels a touch on his shoulder, and he flinches back violently, sure that this is Voldemort, finally here to kill him. 

Harry opens his eyes to meet his fate and stares into a pool of green. A green the same color as his own eyes. 

Harry bolted into a sitting position and pushed himself back until he was flush with the headboard. His hands darted up to wipe away the tear tracks on his face. He took in several deep breaths and tried to calm down. 

“Harry?” Lily asked, her voice laden with concern. “Are you alright?” 

Lily must have cast some kind of lighting spell because the room was lit enough that Harry could see her face with ease. He could only meet her eyes for a moment before he had to look away from the depth of emotion they contained.

Harry shrugged. He opened his mouth to respond, but found himself coughing instead. 

“Oh, let me,” Lily said. She waved her wand and summoned a glass, then filled it with conjured water. 

Harry took the glass and drank the water, the liquid soothing his dry throat. “Thank you,” Harry said, meeting her eyes only briefly. “And,” he added, “I’m fine.” 

He wasn’t completely fine– the nightmare had left him shaken and afraid, but he was loath to bother Lily with something as pointless as a bad dream . 

Lily shifted in place from her seat on the side of Harry’s bed. “I want you to know,” she said, laying her hand on Harry’s knee, “that I am here if you want to talk about it. Whatever it is, I am here to do anything I can to help. And I have been told that I am quite a good listener.” 

Harry stared at the place where her hand met his leg. It tingled warmly, soothingly. Tearing his gaze away, he worried that if he stared for too long, she might move her hand. He shrugged again, but this time when he opened his mouth, he felt a sob rise in his throat. To contain the emotion, he closed his mouth and shook his head. 

The nightmare had passed, Harry had woken up and was safe, so it was ridiculous that he was still so emotional. Especially since this was the kindest awakening that he had ever experienced after a nightmare. 

Lily’s hand squeezed his leg and she sighed. The silence lingered for several long moments before she spoke again. “Is it alright if I tell you a little story?” she asked. 

Harry couldn’t help but perk up, his curiosity piqued. He nodded. 

Lily smiled. “James and I have been married for something like 17 years now, and I knew him for quite a while before that– since we were housemates and all. 

“You probably knew that already, but what you might not know is that the very first time we spent the night together at his parents house, he had a terrible nightmare. 

“He tried to play it off like nothing had happened, but he had been thrashing around so much that he had woken me up. In the many years I had known him, I had never before seen him like that– hair in genuine disarray, frightened, no bravado in sight. It took some time, but I managed to convince him that it was too late to convince me that nothing had happened. Once he accepted that, he finally opened up.” 

Lily paused and shifted her grip on Harry’s knee. Harry sat up straighter, fascinated by this story about his parents– given to him from the source. He stared at her, riveted, silently urging her to continue. 

“It turned out his nightmare had been about losing all of his hair,” Lily said with a chuckle. “In his dream, he had been in potions class– and James and Severus used to have quite the rivalry– and Severus had tampered with James’s potion so that it would explode. 

“The exploded potion caused any hair it touched to fall out. So in the dream, James had been running about, trying to save as much of his hair as possible. 

“All that ruckus had been because he’d dreamt about losing his hair,” Lily concluded. 

As he cracked a slight smile and tried to laugh, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the story was real. Thanks to the crying he’d been doing earlier, the laugh came out as more of a wet cough. He looked away in shame and scrubbed at his nose with his free hand. 

From the little Harry had learned about James, it didn’t seem so farfetched that he would have a nightmare about losing his hair, but it just seemed like too convenient a story. Maybe Lily had embellished the truth to make Harry feel better about having a nightmare? 

“Here,” Lily said, holding out a handkerchief and taking the now empty water glass from Harry’s hand. 

Harry blew his nose, then clutched the dirty handkerchief in his hand, unsure what to do with it. Lily waved her wand and banished it away, thus solving his problem. He gave her a grateful smile that turned into a massive yawn. 

Lily got up from her seat on his bed. “Go on and slide down a bit so I can straighten the covers for you,” she said, giving his shoulder a pat. 

Harry nodded and slid down so he was lying prone in bed. Then Lily pulled the covers out, smoothing them down as she did so, making sure they laid flat around Harry. Once she was done making sure the covers were straight, she sat back down by Harry’s waist. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep again?” Lily asked. “For tonight, it is important enough that you get your rest that, if you don’t think you can, I would be willing to let you use a sleeping aid.” 

A warm feeling settled into his chest and stomach. Harry yawned again, then rubbed at his heavy eyelids. “I think I’ll be alright,” he said. 

The lights dimmed in the room, and Harry waited for Lily to get up and leave. Though he was falling asleep again and his mind was oddly settled after the nightmare, he found he didn’t want her to leave. Without thinking about it, he slid one hand out from under the covers and set it on Lily’s leg, wordlessly asking her to stay. 

Lily’s hand came to rest on his. “I will stay until you fall asleep,” she said, her voice soft. 

That warm feeling from earlier returned, stronger than before. It was like he was being hugged on the inside, a soft glowing feeling that everything would be alright. He felt safe, he realized. He felt safe, so he had been able to ask Lily to stay. He hadn’t even worried about what her response would be, he’d just done it. 

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed. His breathing had just begun to level out when Lily’s hand in his hair startled him. His eyes jerked open for a moment, but all Lily did was stroke his hair away from his face. 

It felt… nice. 

The sensation relaxed him, and his eyes fell closed once more. Harry was now focused on the sensation of Lily’s hand on his hair and the rhythmic motion of her strokes. 

There was no room in his mind for anxiety over his nightmare or what it could possibly mean; all his thoughts were occupied with memorizing the feeling of Lily’s hand on his head, desperate to hold onto this moment forever. 

Moments like these were precious and not to be taken for granted. Harry couldn’t bring himself to hope that this would ever be repeated, so it would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry awoke at his typical early hour. The house was quiet, but just outside his window was a cacophony of bird song. 

Harry got out of bed and went to stand at the window, curious to see if he could spot any of the birds he could so clearly hear. The back garden had a handful of trees, and by the light of the rising sun, Harry could see several birds flitting about between them. 

Mornings like this were his favorite: no people around to disturb the peace and the tail-end of a gorgeous sunrise to take in. 

As he stood at the open window, Harry spread his arms in a luxurious stretch. He really did feel well-rested, even though he’d had a bad nightmare. Most of the time, when he had a nightmare, he had a hard time falling back asleep, and it was thanks to Lily that he had had such an easy time of it. 

Harry was going to have to face Lily soon. He couldn’t believe he had disturbed her sleep on his very first night here. She had been so kind to him all day, and then he had been ungrateful enough to disturb her rest with his nightmare. 

With one last look at the rising sun, Harry grabbed a set of clean clothes and set off for the loo to get ready for the day. 

Since he was still the only one up, he would go downstairs and make breakfast for Lily and James. It was the least he could do, after last night. 

Once Harry made it down to the kitchen, he made a beeline for the fridge. Opening it up, it took Harry several long seconds to realize why it felt a touch out of place. The fridge was electrical and held things like Muggle brands of pop. 

Harry tore his gaze away from the innocuous bottles and surveyed the rest of the fridge, mentally composing recipes from the ingredients he could see. Once he had seen everything in the fridge, Harry went and did the same thing with the pantry. 

Both the fridge and the pantry were well stocked, so Harry had many choices as to what to make. He leaned against the counter and gave the matter some thought. His first instinct was to go all out and make a full English breakfast. He had seen some bacon in the fridge, but it was the kind that Aunt Petunia had purchased to impress Aunt Marge when she had come to visit. 

Harry didn’t want to use up Lily and James’s nice food since they were probably saving it for a special occasion. 

After considering the matter further, Harry decided he would make pancakes and hash browns. That would make a meal nice enough that breakfast shouldn’t be disappointing, but not so nice that he would be using ingredients that were being saved for special occasions. 

It was a bit difficult to navigate the unfamiliar kitchen, but after raiding every cabinet a couple of times, Harry managed to obtain a basic understanding of where everything was. With that accomplished, it was as simple as it ever was for him to make breakfast. 

Harry was in the middle of frying the last batch of pancakes when James walked into the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” said James, his jaw splitting into a yawn halfway through the greeting. 

“Good morning,” Harry returned. He flipped a pancake. 

“Mind if I ask what you’re up to?”

Harry pushed the pancake around the pan, the motion practiced and absent. “Well, I’m making breakfast.” 

James took a few more steps into the kitchen so he was standing behind Harry. Harry’s shoulders drew taut, the proximity making him tense. James took a step back and Harry relaxed again. 

“Well– you don’t have to do that, you know? Lily and I are pretty skilled at whipping up breakfast, if we do say so ourselves.” 

Harry paused. When he had decided to make breakfast, he hadn’t considered that Lily and James might not want him to. Harry resumed his motion, plating the last pancake. 

“I know I don’t have to,” Harry started, trying to remember what he had said when trying to force Molly to accept his help in the kitchen. “But I like cooking, and it’s something nice I could do for you.” He paused again. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

Harry picked up the serving platter of pancakes and turned to face James, who was shaking his head. 

“Of course we don’t mind! It’s just that we’re not used to waking up to breakfast being made for us– and so skillfully, too– and we don’t want you to think that you have to cook for us for any reason.” 

James gently took the plate of pancakes from Harry and went to set it on the kitchen table. Harry followed behind for a step or two, then stopped and opened the fridge to retrieve the syrup and butter he’d spotted earlier. 

“Well,” Harry said, holding the condiments out for James to take, “I know I don’t have to, so you don’t need to worry.” 

Harry hadn’t thought about it, but if he had been asked, he wouldn’t have been certain that he didn’t need to make breakfast or other meals. So the repeated assurances that he didn’t have to were welcome. And, somehow, the knowledge that he didn’t have to make breakfast made him want to do so even more. 

“Good morning,” said Lily, stepping into the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” Harry and James chorused in return. Harry threw a startled look at James, surprised by their synchrony, and was shocked once more to see the look of absolute delight on James’s face. 

Lily tapped the table. “James, if you call jinx now, I will–” she cut herself off, shaking her head– “never mind, it is too early for threats. Just like it is too early for jinx.” 

James held his hands up in supplication. “I wasn’t going to call jinx, I swear! I just thought it was neat that Harry and I are so on the same page,” he said, smiling at Harry. 

Harry smiled back, tentative. He hadn’t thought saying “good morning” in unison was that big of a deal, but James did, so Harry would go along with it. 

“So,” Lily said, straightening up, “I smell something delicious.” 

“Harry made us pancakes and hashbrowns for breakfast,” James said. 

Harry startled at the mention of hashbrowns and darted back to the stove. He poked at the hashbrowns with the wooden spoon and was relieved to determine that they were still good. He grabbed the serving dish and started transferring the hashbrowns over. 

James came up behind him again, taking the dish and the spoon from Harry’s hands. “Let me,” James said, “if only because you did everything else.” 

Harry stepped aside, hands empty, feeling listless. 

“Hey, Harry, why don’t we sit down and let James finish serving us,” Lily said, patting the seat next to her. 

Harry drifted over towards her and took the indicated seat. It felt odd to have someone take over any portion of serving a meal the way James had, but Harry found that he didn’t mind. 

“Harry, this smells amazing!” James exclaimed, setting down the serving dish. 

Harry looked away and shrugged, embarrassed. “Pancakes and hashbrowns aren’t very hard,” he said. 

“None of that,” Lily said, “you did an excellent job with breakfast.”

Harry blushed and mumbled, “Thank you.” 

James started to dish out some hash browns onto his own plate, then passed the platter to Harry. Harry passed the platter to Lily next, and so the plates of food went around the table. Quiet fell as each person became too preoccupied with eating to hold conversation. 

Harry was pushing around the last bits of pancake on his plate when an owl crashed into the kitchen window. Harry jumped, then got to his feet, rushing over. 

“Is it alright?” Harry asked, concerned. 

James got to his feet as well. “Yeah, it should be. Only the stupider birds ignore the marked window and come to this one, which is always shut for a reason .” 

Harry glanced at James, curious. 

“I am a firm believer that leaving a kitchen window open at all times is an excellent way to have a bird defecate on our food,” Lily said, prim. “So we redirect our owls to the office upstairs.” 

James nodded. “Well, I’ll be right back. I’d better grab the letter and the owl.” He walked off, out the back door. 

“Does this happen often?” Harry asked, still shocked that the bird had just flown into the window like that. 

“Not particularly, but it does happen often enough that it’s not a very big deal for us.” 

Harry nodded. 

Lily cleared her throat. “How did you sleep last night after I left?” she asked. 

Harry flushed as the memory of the night before came back to him in full force– how needy and pathetic he had been. At least Lily had waited until James had left to ask– Harry wasn’t sure if James knew, but if not, then Harry would like to keep it that way. 

At least Harry had slept well after Lily had left, so he could answer her with the truth. “I slept very well, thank you. How did you sleep?” 

Lily smiled. “Oh, I slept quite well. But I just want to make sure you know that I didn’t mind being woken up last night. I’d rather you wake me up so I can be sure you’re alright, rather than have you try and keep it to yourself.” 

Harry froze, the sincerity in her statement throwing him off balance. He couldn’t believe she wanted him to wake her up, though. The thought of deliberately disturbing her sleep went against his every instinct. “Thank you,” Harry managed to say. 

“The bird is fine,” James declared, striding back into the house. “And we’ve got a letter from the Unspeakables.” James conjured a bird perch by the table and set the bird down on it, then handed Lily the letter. 

Lily tore it open and skimmed it. “So it seems that Harry’s official documentation should be mailed to us within the next couple of weeks, and at that point, we can pursue the OWLs issue. They also request a meeting with Harry to discuss, and I quote, ‘things,’ at his earliest convenience.” 

Harry looked up from where he’d resumed pushing pancake crumbs around on his plate. 

“I have to assume they want to talk about the differences between your universe, Harry, and ours,” James said. “Oh, and maybe the actual traveling you did to get here.”

“Are you still okay with meeting with them?” Lily asked. “You do not have to if you don’t want to.” 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t mind, those Unspeakables were nice.” 

“Alright, then. Monday is certainly out– we’ve got our shopping to take care of then,” Lily said. 

“If you’re up to it, Harry, I could bring you to work on Tuesday? I would take you down to the Department of Mysteries when we arrive, and once you finish up, someone would take you back to my office, where you could floo back home.” 

Harry nodded. “That sounds fine.” This way, Harry would also get to see what James’s work was like. 

“If that is settled, I will respond to the letter once we are done with breakfast,” Lily said, picking up her fork. 

“It’s going to be so much fun to introduce you to all my coworkers,” James said with a grin. “They’re going to be so confused!” 

Harry tilted his head to the side. 

“All my coworkers have met our Harry, and the two of you look just different enough that they’ll all be confused! Especially since our Harry is still at Hogwarts for the rest of the week.” 

“On a slightly related note, have Sirius and Severus said whether they are going to come with us to the train station to pick up Harry?” Lily cut in. 

James frowned thoughtfully. “No, I don’t believe they have. And I can never remember which weekends Sirius has his motorbike races, so I’m not sure if they’re free.” 

“Then I’ll call them once I respond to the letter,” Lily said. 

At the mention of the other Harry, Harry stilled. The other Harry– Lily and James’s son– would be coming back this coming weekend. He only had this one week with Lily and James to himself. Once the other Harry came back, they would surely dote over their own son, and Harry would be cast to the side. Which, Harry had to admit, did make sense. It wasn’t like he was their son. 

Harry still didn’t know anything about what this other Harry was like– things could all go sour once he came back. And after his nightmare, he didn’t dare consider the alternative, that Harry could be nice and welcoming– because it would only hurt more if he was disappointed. 

Setting his fork down, Harry cleared his throat. Lily and James turned to face him, attentive. “Um, are we doing anything today?” 

James grinned. 

Lily sighed. 

“It’s gobstones day!” James exclaimed. 

“It is the day that I cave to James’s overwhelming desire to play gobstones and play with him,” Lily explained. “You are welcome to avoid the event, if you wish.” 

“And you are equally welcome to join in,” James added. 

Harry glanced between the two of them, then nodded. “I wouldn’t mind playing.” 

James’s grin grew impossibly wider. 

The next day, Harry awoke at about the same time that he had the day before. This time, however, he could hear the distinct sound of James moving about in his room. He must need to be up early for work. 

Harry went ahead and got up and ready for the day. He had hoped that he would be the first downstairs again so he could cook breakfast. But when he arrived in the kitchen, James was already seated at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. 

Not just any cereal, Harry realized. James was eating Captain Crunch. 

“Good morning, Harry,” James mumbled around his cereal. 

“Good morning, James,” Harry returned. 

“If you’d like some cereal, there’s plenty,” James said, gesturing with his spoon at the box out on the kitchen table. “Sorry I didn’t cook anything, but Lily and I don’t really do anything elaborate during the week.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said, perking up. He had never been allowed to eat Dudley’s special cereal before, so this seemed like a great chance to see what he’d been missing out on all those years. He sat down in the seat that had become his usual and picked up a bowl to serve himself some cereal. 

It was early enough that James was not as chatty as he usually was, so there was a pleasant silence as they sat and ate together. 

James set down his spoon once he was done eating and squinted at Harry. “What are you doing up so early, anyways? You and Lily aren’t due to leave for hours yet.”

Harry swallowed his bite of food. “Er– I always get up early. I don’t really choose when I get up.” 

“That’s unusual in a teenager your age, but probably handy for school,” James remarked. He looked at his watch. “I need to get going, but you know where the telly is and where the books are, so feel free to make use of those to keep yourself entertained.”

“Okay, I will,” said Harry. “Thank you.” 

The day before, after James had been victorious at gobstones several times, Lily and James had shown Harry the various options for entertainment around the house. There were bookshelves scattered throughout the house, each filled with books ranging from academic to recreational. And in the sitting room was a functional television. 

James got up from his seat. “It’s no problem, kiddo. Oh, just, if you use the telly, keep the volume down a bit lower. Sound carries pretty well in the house, and we can’t use silencing wards around the telly if we want it to keep working. So if the volume is too loud, it’ll wake Lily up.” 

Harry nodded. 

“That’s all then,” James said. “I will see you when I get home from work. Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye,” Harry said, watching as James walked over to the floo and disappeared into the flames. 

Now alone, Harry returned to eating his cereal. He might try reading after he finished eating. James had said he could watch the telly, but he didn’t want to risk waking Lily up again. Reading was a much quieter activity. 

So once he was done eating, Harry cleaned his dishes and put them away. Then he went to one of the many bookshelves and scanned it for reading material. The shelf he had chosen was an eclectic mix of genres, so it took Harry some time to find a novel that interested him. 

Some time later, once the sun was fully risen, Lily came downstairs. She was still in her pajamas and looked as if she had just gotten out of bed. 

“Good morning,” Harry said. He was seated in the sitting room, and when he spoke, Lily jumped and whirled around to face him. 

Lily pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh my, you startled me! I didn’t expect you to be up yet. Good morning.” 

Harry was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t supposed to get up so early. “Er, yeah, I’ve always gotten up early,” he said. 

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Lily said, assuaging his worries. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, I ate with James.”

“Then don’t mind me! You may return to reading, if you like. I’ll just be getting my breakfast.” 

Harry nodded and did so. It was kind of nice to have the sounds of Lily moving about the kitchen, and then her room, as a backdrop to his reading. 

Sometime later, Lily came into the sitting room where Harry was still reading. She was now fully dressed and looked ready to go. Harry glanced around for something to use as a bookmark. 

“Here you go,” Lily said, holding out a bookmark. 

“Oh, thank you.” Harry took the bookmark and slid it into place, then closed the book and set it aside. 

“Bookmarks are one of the things I can conjure wordlessly and wandlessly,” Lily said with a smile. “It comes in very handy when I’m teaching, and my students just think I keep an endless supply of bookmarks on my person.” 

“That’s a really good idea,” Harry said. 

“Why, thank you,” Lily replied. “Now, we ought to get going before the shops get busy.” 

Harry stood up and waited for Lily to lead the way. 

“We will be apparating to Diagon Alley,” Lily said, holding out her arm, “so grab on tight, just like last time.” 

Harry took hold of her arm and gripped it with both hands. “Alright, I’m ready.” 

“Then let us be off,” Lily said, spinning in place. 

This time, Harry was ready for the compression of apparition. It was still unpleasant and too reminiscent of dimension travel, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as his first apparition. Thanks to his grip on Lily’s arm, he was even able to keep his feet when they landed.  

They were standing on the magical side of the portal to Diagon Alley. Harry took a moment to take it in, drawing comparisons to the Diagon Alley back at home. 

As he had thought it would be, the very atmosphere of Diagon Alley felt different. The people walking around had none of the urgency Harry had witnessed in recent years. Even compared to the Diagon Alley he had experienced before his first year, everything was calmer here. 

And there seemed to be more people around. People Harry had never seen before, but who looked like people he had seen. Were these people who had survived because Voldemort was still in hiding? How many people went to Hogwarts now, if there had not been a war around the time he was born?

Harry thought he remembered Hermione mentioning that Hogwarts enrollment levels were at an all time low, was that not the case here? 

“Harry?” Lily called. She had walked off down the street, leaving Harry frozen in place as he took in the alley. 

Harry startled and hurried off to catch up with her. “I’m sorry, I was just startled by a couple of differences.” 

Lily’s eyes widened in understanding. “It’s no trouble at all,” she said, reassuring. “Now, I thought we would start by going to Twilfitt and Tattings to get your clothes and shoes since that will take the most time.” 

Harry blinked at the store name. He had never been before, but he had heard that it was a high-end clothing store. Harry didn’t have any money here in this universe, so Lily and James were going to have to pay for everything. 

Rubbing at his arm, uncomfortable, Harry trailed after Lily as she walked off in the direction of Twilfitt and Tattings. 

“You know, I don’t need clothes from Twilfitt and Tattings ,” Harry said after a few moments of walking. 

Lily glanced at him, but didn’t change her direction or pace. “It’s where we do all our shopping. You are in our care, so we are responsible for fulfilling your needs to the best of our ability. And besides that, it is something that James and I are more than happy to do for you.” 

“Oh, alright,” Harry said. Even with her kind and honest words, he wasn’t wholly comfortable with the idea of Lily and James spending so much money on him. He had no way to pay them back, after all, but Lily seemed to think it was part of her job to get him new clothes, and nice ones at that. 

Harry knew all too well that this was not the case, but Lily was resistant to all of his attempts to tell her so. 

The depth of Lily’s conviction only became more clear as they went through the store. She strode through the store like it belonged to her, picking out far more items than Harry thought he would need in a lifetime, let alone for however long he had before he grew out of everything. 

But whenever Harry tried to protest, Lily had a reasonable argument ready to go as to why whatever purchase it was made sense. 

In the face of such determination, Harry could only cede to Lily. His protests became less and less frequent, until he stopped trying altogether. It was clear that Lily would not be discouraged and, deep down, Harry could admit that it felt good to have someone care so much that he was well-attired. 

As they walked out of Twilfitt and Tattings, Lily stowed away their shrunken-down packages in her pockets. 

“Alright, so up next is room decoration and entertainment,” Lily said, turning to face Harry. 

Harry frowned. “Room decoration?” he asked. “But you’ve already decorated my room.” 

“We painted it and changed the furniture, yes, but you still need things to personalize it. Things like posters or knick knacks to display,” Lily said. She took a step closer and set a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We want you to feel as at home here as possible.” 

Harry glanced at the hand on his shoulder, the casual contact making the blood rush in his ears. “Okay,” he agreed, reluctant. It still felt unnecessary, but he had seen how determined Lily could be. Harry could now admit that resistance was futile. 

So they continued shopping. Harry followed Lily around to the various stores, and thanks to Lily’s encouragement, he became better at expressing his interest and opinions. When he managed to indicate interest or disinterest in an item, Lily would give him a proud smile. 

Harry remembered when Lily had been grading at the kitchen table, how he had wanted to discover how to make her smile with pride at him . He had wanted to know how it felt to be the recipient of that expression. 

Now he knew, and he never wanted it to end. 

They stood on the sidewalk outside the last shop they had visited. Lily’s hand was resting on his shoulder as she pulled out her wand with her other hand. 

“Is there anywhere else you would like to go?” Lily asked. 

Harry shook his head. They had been just about everywhere, and the places they hadn’t gone– the Quidditch store, notably– had been skipped because the other Harry liked to go too, so they would all go together later. That particular prospect was one that Harry had set aside, refusing to let that impending fear ruin his current good mood. 

“Then I believe it is time we went home.” Lily removed her hand from Harry’s shoulder and held it out for him to grasp. 

Harry did so, and together they disappeared, leaving behind the bustling street to depart for the Potters’ home.

Chapter Text

When Harry and Lily landed back at Potter Cottage, Harry was once more able to keep his balance. He was getting used to the sensation of apparition, which was quickly becoming his second favorite method of magical travel. His favorite method would always be flying.

Harry followed Lily up the front path, but the force of a sneeze stopped him in his tracks.

“Bless you,” Lily said, sounding concerned. She stopped and turned to face him.

Harry scrubbed at his itching nose, then tucked his hand into his pocket. “I’m fine.”

“Here, take this,” Lily said, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a plain handkerchief, handing it to Harry with a smile.

Harry took the handkerchief and blew his nose with it. Then he stared at the soiled handkerchief, unsure what to do with it.

“Allow me,” Lily said. She vanished the handkerchief with her wand. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” Harry repeated, smiling this time to reinforce the words.

“Then why don’t we go inside.”

Harry nodded, then started walking towards the house again. He stepped to the side of the front door so Lily could unlock it, then he followed her into the house. Lily stopped in the entryway and turned to face Harry. 

“Would you like help unpacking your new things and decorating your room?” 

Harry thought for a moment, considering. He was nearly certain that Lily’s offer was sincere, and that she wouldn’t mind helping, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted help. It had been a long day of shopping, and he was beginning to feel very worn down. The thought of being alone in his room was appealing. 

“I can unpack myself,” Harry decided. 

Lily nodded. “Alright, why don’t you head upstairs, and I’ll send the packages up after you?” 

“Thank you,” Harry said, smiling. He turned to walk up the stairs, his gait heavy from fatigue. 

When he arrived upstairs, he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. The shopping trip had taken far more out of him than it ought to have. Moments after he had sat down, the resized packages began to float into his room. With a monumental effort, Harry got to his feet and grabbed the first package out of the air. 

Package after package followed the first, and Harry started to make a stack of them in the corner of the room. It had been easy to forget just how much had been purchased when everything was shrunken and stowed out of sight, but now Harry was confronted with just how much Lily had bought for him. 

After he stacked the last package, Harry had to sit down on the bed again. He was collapsing under the tide of guilt and shock, brought on by the realization of how much money Lily must have spent on him. 

Harry had known that they had purchased a good deal of items, but the height of the pile was shocking. Harry didn’t need this much stuff! He just needed a couple outfits and uniforms for school, not this wardrobe large enough to satisfy even Malfoy. 

This was too much. 

But it was already done, and Lily had made it quite clear that she had wanted to do this for him. So, Harry took a deep breath and did his best to shake off the guilt. 

Getting up a second time was even harder than the first, somehow. Harry was still exhausted, and on top of that, his back was beginning to ache, probably from all the lifting of packages he had done. Shoving the discomfort and fatigue down, Harry trudged over to the pile in the corner and started to unpack the boxes. 

“Harry! It’s time for dinner!” Lily called from the kitchen. 

Harry groaned and got to his feet. He had been sitting on the floor, sorting the clothes into piles to make them easier to put away later. His back was aching worse than ever, and he was even starting to get a headache. That was probably because it had been a while since he’d had water— he would have to remedy that with dinner. 

Harry hurried through the house as best as he could with his body aching as much as it did. 

“Good evening, Harry,” James greeted as Harry entered the kitchen. 

“Good evening,” Harry returned. “How was work?” 

James shrugged and shook his head. “Today was a paperwork day, so very deeply boring. Tomorrow’s not looking much better, either. There’s just so much paperwork ,” he lamented. 

Harry nodded solemnly. “That’s awful,” he said. James did seem to be exaggerating, but even still, Harry hadn’t thought about having to do paperwork when he’d considered being an auror at his career meeting.  

James returned Harry’s nod. “Enough about my paperwork woes though, how was shopping with Lily?” 

Harry forced himself to smile. The emotion was genuine, but he lacked the energy to express himself with ease. “It was great! We got all the things I need.” 

James threw a grin at Lily, who was standing by the stove and serving the meal out onto plates. “And some things that you don’t need, I’m sure,” James said, sly. 

“Uh,” Harry said, looking from James to Lily, unsure what to say. 

“Ignore him, Harry, he’s just disappointed he didn’t get to help buy you extraneous things,” Lily said. 

“No, I’m not,” James said. 

“Yes, you are,” Lily replied. She held up her hand, stopping James from speaking. “How about this, when we go to get Harry from Kings Cross, you may take them both shopping.” 

James paused. “Just because that sounds like a great plan doesn’t mean you’re right.” 

Harry glanced at Lily, who was staring at him with one knowing eyebrow raised. Harry felt caught in a situation that was way over his head to comprehend— especially with his head throbbing— so he plastered another smile onto his face and went to take his seat.

“If saying that makes you feel better, dear, then go right ahead. But we both know that I am right.” 

James made a funny face in response, then went back to setting the table. Harry requested a glass of water with his dinner, but even downing it didn’t do much to dislodge his headache. 

Throughout dinner, Harry could tell that he was concerning Lily and James with his lack of appetite. He never ate all that much, but he knew he was picking at his meal even less than normal. Harry was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t just tired— that he was sick, but he refused to accept it.

Aside from a few sideways looks from both Lily and James, Harry was allowed to pick at his food in peace. They did try to draw him into conversation a few times, but Harry didn’t have the energy to respond, despite his desire to. Harry hoped that they didn’t think he was being rude.

By the time Harry trudged upstairs after dinner, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that he was getting sick. 

But when Harry stepped foot inside the guest room, he was confronted by the sight of the stack of still unpacked purchases. His head and body were aching, but he pushed through it to head over to the closet. 

Harry wasn’t sure how long it took him to finish putting the clothes away, but by the time he finally collapsed into bed, he was exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. 

Harry awoke to the sound of himself hacking. It was the sort of cough that burned on its way up the trachea and left behind an unpleasant feeling. As soon as Harry was cognizant of what he was doing, he buried his mouth in the crook of his elbow to try and muffle the sound of his coughing. 

Once the fit had passed, Harry tossed his arm off his face and collapsed back against the pillow, exhausted. 

Harry was still breathing heavily, his breath raspy in his throat. It was now undeniable that he was sick. Harry groaned and pressed his arm over his eyes. Of course he was sick. Nothing in his life could ever go right. And from the rattling in his chest, he could tell that this wasn’t an insignificant illness either. 

Harry heard the sound of bodies shifting from Lily and James’s room and froze, concerned that he had woken them up with his coughing fit. 

Harry hoped to keep his sickness from Lily and James. They had already done so much for Harry that he didn’t want to burden them with his illness too. Since both adults had to work during the day, all Harry had to do was hide it from them until they left for work. 

The sounds from the other room settled, and Harry relaxed again. He’d had every muscle in his body tensed to prevent any chance of a sound escaping, and as he relaxed the muscles in his chest, another racking cough escaped from him. 

Harry flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow to muffle the sounds. 

Despite his best efforts to fall back asleep, the rest of the night passed in much the same way. Harry would finally relax from his latest close call, but then the release of tension in his chest would induce another coughing fit. Most times, he would then hear the sound of shifting from Lily and James’s room, which would make him freeze in panic again. 

It was a vicious cycle, and by the time Harry could see the sun rising through his window, he was feeling weak and pathetic. 

At some point in the night, he had broken out into a cold sweat and begun to shiver. The blankets did little to help, but he kept himself wrapped as tightly in them as he could manage with his weakened limbs. 

The sun progressed higher into the sky, and Harry could hear the sounds of Lily and James awakening for work. Harry sighed in relief, soon Lily and James would be gone, and he wouldn’t have to worry about suppressing the sound of his coughing. 

Earlier in the night, Harry had planned to head downstairs for food as soon as the house was empty, but now he wanted nothing more than to lay in bed in peace. 

It seemed to take endless amounts of time for Lily and James to work through their morning routines. Tracking their movements through the house was both boring and anxiety-inducing— Harry knew that if either adult chose to look in on him, it would be obvious that he was not well. 

Harry hadn’t had the energy to get out of bed and clean himself up before Lily and James had gotten up and now, he was paying the price for his laziness. He jumped every time a door opened, consumed with anxiety that this time Lily or James was coming to check on him.

The third time this happened, Harry had the idea to bury his head under the pillow. If none of him was visible, then nothing of his well-being would be discernible. The added protection of his pillow gave him the peace of mind to relax ever so slightly. 

In the end though, it wouldn’t have mattered how presentable he looked while pretending to sleep, because Harry had forgotten something very important. 

“Harry?” James called, knocking on the door as he opened it. “It’s time to get up! Did you forget you’re supposed to talk to the Unspeakables today?” 

The words were slow to penetrate Harry’s muddled mind. When they did, his eyes snapped open, and he started to struggle his way out of the cocoon of blankets. 

James chuckled. “I take it you did forget. What do you want for break—” 

When Harry had struggled free of the cocoon, James cut himself off. 

“Oh my,” James said, shocked. 

Harry froze. He had been trying to drag himself out of bed so he could get ready to leave for the Ministry, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard the shock in James’s voice. 

James hurried the rest of the way into the room and pressed the back of his hand to Harry’s forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” James muttered. He pulled his hand away and surveyed Harry, who was still frozen in a sitting position on the bed. 

Harry shrugged. “It’s probably just a cold. I can be—” he stopped to cough into the crook of his elbow— “be ready to go in a couple of minutes.” 

James shook his head. “You are going to get right back into bed, and then I am going to call into work. You are in no condition to be by yourself, let alone to be going for an interview.” 

Harry tried to protest, but he was too tired, and James was too determined. In no time at all, Harry found himself lying down in bed, bundled up in the blankets once more. 

“Lily has already left for work, but I will be back to check on you as soon as I’m done calling into work,” James said before turning to exit the room. 

Once he was gone, Harry allowed himself to groan quietly. So much for keeping his illness to himself. Now, not only did James know about it, but he was taking off of work to take care of Harry , of all things. Harry didn’t need to be taken care of; he was more than used to looking out for himself while he was sick. 

And on top of that, Harry would be missing the meeting with the Unspeakables. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten about that— he had been looking forward to learning more about this new world. 

Harry sighed and wiggled under the absurdly tight blankets to loosen them just a bit. James had been a little overenthusiastic when he had bundled Harry up, and while the memory of it still sent warm feelings through Harry’s chest, his limbs were beginning to lose feeling. 

Harry began to doze, his rest interrupted every so often with a coughing fit that he no longer bothered to try and hide. The coughing was still disruptive enough that he couldn’t fall asleep, but he was able to rest more easily without the worry of being discovered. 

Sometime later, James came back into the room, carrying a tray of food. “Harry? Are you awake?” he whispered. 

“Yes,” Harry returned, struggling to sit up beneath the tangle of blankets.

James released the tray, leaving it to hover in mid-air where he had been standing, and went to help Harry sit up. James conjured a thick pillow behind Harry’s back to help keep him propped up. 

Harry blushed under the attention, but he was unable to deny that it felt, well, nice . 

Once Harry was positioned in bed, James waved his wand to call the tray of food over. 

“I brought you some light food, uh, applesauce, lightly buttered toast, a banana,” James said, setting the tray on Harry’s lap. 

Harry didn’t feel hungry, but he knew that he hadn’t eaten much the night before. And on top of that, James had gone to all the trouble to bring him food. This was sufficient pressure to drive Harry to pick up the spoon and begin eating small bites of applesauce. 

A quick glance up, and Harry saw that James was watching him. Harry wondered why he was still here; Harry wasn’t so sick that he couldn’t get through a meal on his own. But it was not worth the energy it would take to tell James this, so Harry kept his head down and worked his way through as much of the food on the tray as he could. 

This, it turned out, was not much. 

With a twinge of guilt, Harry pushed the tray away from himself, trying not to look at how much food was left on it. “I’m done eating,” Harry said, glancing up at James. 

James moved forward to take the tray, then stopped with a slight frown. “Are you sure you can’t eat anymore?” 

Harry’s gut tightened as he registered the disappointment in James’s gaze. He was full though, and he didn’t think he could stomach any more food without being sick. He nodded.

The disappointed look fell off of James’s face and he picked up the tray. Then he set the tray back down and drew his wand, transfiguring the empty glass of water on the tray into a bell. “Go ahead and ring this if you need anything, I’ll be back in a bit to check in on you.” 

Then James picked up the tray again and headed out of the room. 

Harry leaned back against the large pillow, a bit dazed from the interaction. James had done what he had said he would do, and he had been very kind about it too. Harry hadn’t thought that James would be mean about taking care of Harry, but the utter lack of exasperated sighs or annoyed looks was above and beyond what he could have dreamed of. 

In fact, the only negative emotion James had expressed had been disappointment when Harry had finished eating. And Harry knew quite well that that had been because James had thought that Harry should have eaten more. Hermione and Ron had given him that very look often enough that Harry could recognize it with no trouble at all. 

But the problem was that this was all unnecessary. James didn’t need to take off work to care for him, James didn’t need to deliver food to Harry on a tray, James didn’t need to make a bell so Harry could call him. It was all too much. 

Harry resolved to explain this to James the next time the man came by, since there was no way that Harry would interrupt whatever James was doing with the bell.

James came to check in on Harry several more times throughout the day, but because Harry continued to feel worse as time progressed, it was several visits before he remembered to talk to James. 

The shivers worsened, his cough refused to budge, and at some point, his nose even started running. There were times where Harry floated in and out of sleep, the line between wakefulness and dreamland eventually becoming so blurred that Harry could no longer tell with any certainty if he was awake or asleep.

The fact that it was James , a man Harry still thought of as dead more often than alive, checking in on him did not help with matters. 

During one of his periods of lucidity, Harry realized just how much time James had spent checking in on him. It had to have been James’s main focus all day, and this realization made Harry’s stomach hurt in a way that was entirely unrelated to his sickness. 

Harry resolved then to inform James that all the attention was unnecessary the very next time he came to check in on Harry. This plan felt oddly familiar, but he shook off the feeling and fell into a doze once more.

Harry became aware that someone was knocking at the door. The knock was measured and calm, so Harry couldn’t fathom who it could be. If any of the Dursleys deigned to knock on his door, it was more of an urgent pounding that promised trouble if Harry failed to respond. 

“Come ‘n,” Harry responded, dragging his— oddly aching— body out of bed. There was something off about the room, and there was something that Harry had meant to do the next time someone came in…

Before Harry could make it any further than swinging his legs off the side of the bed, the door opened. 

“I’m sorry, I was—” Harry coughed— “coming!” He struggled to get his feet under him so he could stand up properly. He couldn’t believe he was showing this much weakness, but he was just so tired— though, that had never kept him from hiding his weakness before. 

“Harry, what are you doing out of bed?” James asked, rushing forward and pushing down on Harry’s shoulders so he was sitting back on the bed. 

The concern in the man’s face and the tenderness with which he handled Harry was all too much, and yet, not enough. Harry remained passive as James tucked him back into bed, then as James set a tray of food on Harry’s lap. The worry in James’s face drove Harry to force as much of the food down as he could before his stomach rebelled. 

“How are you feeling, Harry?” James asked, his voice laden with worry. 

Harry’s chest pulled and he felt a lump lodge in his throat. “I’m fine,” he whispered. Then he remembered his plan — plans? — from earlier and attempted to clear his throat.

This set him off on another coughing fit. Harry was forced to hunch over as the wracking cough tore its way through his body, burning his lungs and scratching at his throat as it went. James came rushing forward to rub his back, and the sensation was so warm and so vivid against the pain of the coughing that Harry felt himself begin to cry. 

Harry pulled away from the half-embrace James had pulled him into and turned to bury his face in his hands. 

James started to turn around, then stopped. “Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked, gesturing to the edge of the bed. 

Harry shook his head, refusing to remove his face from his hands. 

James finished sitting down and placed a warm, heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

Despite his embarrassment, Harry felt himself lean into the touch. 

“You know it’s alright to be taken care of when you’re sick, right?” James asked after a long pause. 

Harry’s tears had petered off, and he had been considering the possibility of removing his hands from his face, but now he froze. He pressed his hands against his face even harder and shook his head. 

“Everyone gets sick sometimes,” James persisted, “and everyone deserves to have someone take care of them when they do get sick.” 

Harry shook his head again, doing his best to fend off memories of all the times he’d been sick at the Dursleys, all the times he’d been locked in the cupboard to fend off an illness, all the times his cries for help had gone unanswered. 

James sighed and moved his hand from Harry’s shoulder to his back and started rubbing it in soothing circles. They remained like that for several long moments, Harry’s breath shuddering and weak as he fended off his memories, James a silent, soothing presence behind him. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” James said suddenly. “I know we’ve just met, but I want you to know that I’m here for you and willing to listen to anything you want to tell me.” 

Harry’s breath began to come heavier and his mind went blank as he processed what James was asking him to do. But then James slid even closer, pressing his side against Harry’s and wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders. 

“You’re going to get yourself sick,” Harry muttered. 

Harry felt James shrug behind him. 

“I already accepted that would happen,” James said, his voice full of acceptance. “It is a fact of life that when a child gets sick, the parent gets sick soon after.” 

Parent. At this word, Harry twisted around in James’s arms to look the man in the face. “But you’re not my parent, I don’t have any parents. I’ve never had any because I’m an orphan.” 

The pressure on his side and shoulders never wavered. 

“Just because there hasn’t been someone there for you in the past, doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to have someone here for you now.”

“But I don’t deserve to have you!” Harry protested, a heavy feeling in his gut and a twisting sensation in his chest. “I’m the reason I’m an orphan! I’m the reason you’re dead .” 

Harry gasped as he processed what he’d said, then he scrambled away so forcefully that he fell off the bed. He landed heavily and started scooting away as fast as he could from where James was still seated on the bed. When Harry’s back hit the wall, he pulled his knees up to his chest, laid his forehead down on his knees, and wrapped his arms around his head. 

James got up from the bed and with each step he took closer to Harry, Harry tensed further. James stopped a pace or two away and sat down himself. 

“That’s not true,” James said, his voice calm and even. “I know very little about your universe, but I have learned some things about you. And those things I’ve learned tell me that you did not murder your own parents.” 

Harry shook his head, denying James’s words, unable to believe them. 

“Harry, please look at me,” James pleaded. 

Without thought, Harry found himself complying, lowering his hands and lifting his head. As their eyes met, Harry found himself pinned in place by the intensity of James’s gaze. 

Harry remained transfixed as James reached out and took Harry’s hands in his. James gave them a squeeze, then spoke. “I know that you did not hold your wand to their heads. I know that you did not use a knife, or poison, or muggle weaponry to murder them. I know that you did not pay an assassin to do the deed for you, and I know that you didn’t in any other way conspire to murder your parents. 

“Any series of events that led to their death may have involved you, but your involvement does not mean that you killed them. Do you understand me? You did not kill your parents.” 

Harry had started shaking with James’s first words, and by the time James had finished speaking, Harry had dissolved into tears again. He tried to pull away from James, to turn away and hide his shame, but James refused to let go. 

Harry shuddered and ducked his head down as a sob surged up through his chest. It was a spluttering mess, making him cough and hack and his face burn in shame. 

James finally released Harry’s hands, but before Harry could turn away and hide his face, James had pulled Harry into a tight embrace. Harry buried his face in James’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut as the sobs continued to come. 

They stayed there, on the floor, Harry wrapped in James’s arms, until long after Harry’s sobs had subsided, and he had fallen asleep against James’s chest.

Chapter Text

Harry sat up in bed and took a deep breath. For the first time in two days, he had woken up without any congestion in his chest. 

The entire time he had been sick, James had been there to take care of him. The experience had been everything Harry dreamed of on the rare occasions that he’d gotten sick at the Dursleys. James had treated Harry with such a degree of care and gentleness that Harry had been shocked. But really, he should not have been. 

Ever since Harry had been dumped into their care, James and Lily had been open with their affections and provided for his every need while he was well. So really, Harry should not have been surprised that they continued to do the same while he was sick. 

Harry was coming to accept that James and Lily took their jobs as his— caregivers? Hosts? Guardians? Harry wasn’t sure what term to use to describe their relationship, but whatever it was, they were both very serious about the responsibilities the relationship entailed. 

They were both so serious about it that James had been willing to listen to Harry have, well, a meltdown the other day. Harry still had a hard time believing that he had said so much to James, but in the end, it had all worked out okay. 

Harry had harbored a fear that the truth about his parents’ deaths would cause James to abandon him. Despite this fear, nothing of the sort had happened. In fact, James had even absolved Harry of his guilt. Harry wasn’t certain if he believed James yet, but even thinking of those reassurances helped soothe some of his ever-present guilt. 

Later, once Harry was well enough to think coherently, he had realized that James hadn’t given him any medicine. 

It had taken several more hours, and many more visits from James, before Harry had worked up the courage to ask James about it. All of Harry’s experiences with Madam Pomfrey had taught him one thing: there was a potion for every ailment. 

James had been quick to inform Harry that potion had been put into the tea. James’s son apparently refused to take potions any other way, and so the method had become a habit. 

Thanks to the power of magic and care, Harry had made a quick recovery. 

Today was Friday, the day that Harry was supposed to meet with the Unspeakables. Harry was pleased to note that he was feeling well enough to attend the meeting. 

For the first time in days, Harry was able to get up and get ready on his own. 

As he walked into the kitchen for breakfast, he realized that it was still far later than he would get up when he was healthy. This meant that when he walked into the kitchen, breakfast was already waiting for him. 

“Good morning, Harry,” Lily greeted. “It’s great to see you up and about!” 

“Morning, and it’s great to be up!” 

“Eggs are on the stove and bread is in the toaster,” Lily said, gesturing at each. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come down this morning, so I didn’t bother to make up a plate— or tray— yet.” 

“Oh, that sounds good,” Harry said with a smile. 

“Since you’re up and about, I ought to owl the Unspeakables so they know they’re clear to come over this afternoon,” Lily mused aloud.

Harry sat down at the table as Lily hurried off. When James had called to reschedule, the Unspeakables had insisted on making this a home visit. Their reasoning had been elusive, but persistent, and since Lily and James could take no more time off, Harry would be playing host on his own. 

James wandered into the kitchen, a mug of coffee already in his hand. “Good morning, Harry! I thought I heard you getting ready up there!” 

Harry flushed, wondering if he’d been too loud. 

“I was right next door in my own room, working on my morning routine, so I couldn’t help but hear the water running,” James continued. 

Harry ducked his head down, staring at his plate of food. Was he really that transparent? 

“Anyways, how did you sleep last night?” James asked. 

Harry lifted his head to answer. “Much better than I have in days, and much better than I expected to sleep. I got better very fast.” 

James grinned. “That’s great to hear! Your m— Lily is very talented at potions; us Potter men always have swift recoveries thanks to her.” 

Lily walked back into the kitchen as he said this and tapped James upside the back of his head. “You know quite well that I’m following the recipes your family developed, and that you are more than capable of following them yourself.” 

“I’m not sure who told you I was good at potions,” James said, “but they are a dirty, dirty liar.” 

Lily took her seat again, and they continued to go back and forth for several more minutes, their banter flying across the table so fast that Harry felt like he was watching a ping pong match. This was an arrangement that suited him just fine, as it allowed him to eat his breakfast and listen in peace. 

Lily held up her hand to stop James from speaking. “Before we lose any more time to our nonsense, we ought to make sure that Harry feels ready to host the Unspeakables.” 

James closed his mouth and nodded. 

“I know you’re new to our home,” Lily began, “so this could be stressful for you. First of all, I want to reassure you that everything is going to be fine. The Unspeakables that are coming are Liz and Sue, the same Unspeakables that greeted you when you arrived here. They will be arriving by floo at one in the afternoon, and I have already keyed them into the wards.” 

“James will set out the things you will need for tea, and I can go over our teas before I leave, if you like. You’re welcome to hold the interview anywhere in the house that you feel comfortable. I believe that is everything that you need to know. What do you think, James?” 

“I can’t think of anything you missed,” James confirmed. 

Harry nodded, some of his anxiety over the meeting lifting from his chest. “Thank you,” Harry said.

“By the way, I will likely be home late from work,” James said. He had gotten up to pack away the leftover food from breakfast. “I have heinous amounts of paperwork built up again from the time I took off. I’m just lucky I somehow didn’t catch whatever it was Harry had, otherwise it’d end up being so much worse.” 

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat, aware that the time off— and therefore the paperwork— was all his fault. 

“And don’t you dare feel bad about that, Harry,” James said, turning to point a serving spoon at Harry. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said reflexively. 

“It’s alright,” Lily said, “there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

While Lily and James finished tidying up the kitchen and completing the rest of their morning routines, Harry continued to work his way through his breakfast. 

Just before Lily left the house, she darted back into the kitchen. “I just wanted to say, before I left, that you’re going to be a wonderful host.”

Harry flushed. “Thank you.”

“I have to dash now, goodbye,” Lily said, smiling warmly at Harry before turning to hurry away.  

“Goodbye,” Harry called after her. Her words had left behind a warm glow.

Unfortunately, the warm glow was replaced by anxiety as he got up from the kitchen table. The tightness in his chest persisted throughout the morning as he selected a book to read and settled in to wait for the Unspeakables to arrive, and then as he paced around the sitting room, too anxious to read. 

He was so deep in thought that the sudden flash of the floo startled him. He jumped back, away from the floo, his hands coming up to cover his mouth.

“Oops, did we startle you?” the Unspeakable— Liz or Sue— asked, brushing herself off. 

The other Unspeakable arrived then, and Harry stole a glance at the clock. One in the afternoon, on the dot. 

Harry nodded, then exchanged greetings with the Unspeakables— learning which was which in the process— and guided them to seats in the sitting room. As they sat down, Harry asked for their tea orders, then hurried into the kitchen to prepare the tea. 

Though the kitchen was still unfamiliar, the process of making tea came back to him as soon as he began. 

It required little thought for Harry to bustle around the kitchen, getting everything together. In no time at all, Harry was carrying out a tray with tea and biscuits for Liz and Sue. 

“Oh my, that was fast,” Sue said, turning to watch as Harry walked into the room. 

Harry shrugged and set the tray down on the coffee table. Then he went and took a seat on the couch across from them. 

“Wait, Harry, where’s your tea?” Liz asked. 

Harry glanced at the tray and realized he hadn’t thought to make himself some tea. “Oh, I just didn’t want any.” 

Sue nodded. 

As Liz and Sue each picked up their teacups and took their first sips, Harry sat and twiddled his thumbs, feeling a little awkward without anything to do. 

Sue set her tea back down on its saucer. “That is delicious tea, Harry. Thank you.” 

Harry smiled shyly. “You’re welcome.” 

“So,” Liz said, swirling her teacup, “I’m sure you’re curious about why we insisted on having this meeting here, at your house.” 

Harry nodded. 

“We in the department found it curious that you got so violently sick,” Sue began. 

“It’s not uncommon for people to contract colds and flus in the summer, but you are a young, healthy teenager. The degree of illness you experienced is an outlier and unusual,” Liz continued.

“After extensive discussion,” Sue said, “we determined that it is likely due to the fact that your immune system is developed for microbes from your universe— not ours. Given the rates of microbe evolution, the chances that your immune system would be at all effective here are slim to none.” 

“So we decided that it would be safest for you if we were to come to you,” Liz said. 

“Oh wow,” said Harry, surprised. “So I can get sick really easily?” 

“Yes, precisely. For the foreseeable future, you’re going to want to be careful about going out in public if you don’t want a repeat sickness,” Liz said. 

Harry nodded. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“Of course,” Sue said. 

The next several minutes were spent engaged in small talk as Liz and Sue worked their way through the tea and biscuits. The longer the small talk went on, the more anxious Harry began to feel. This was his chance to learn more about the world he now lived in, and he wanted to get started. 

After what felt like an eternity, Liz set down her empty teacup and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “I’m sure you’re ready to get down to business,” Liz said. 

Harry nodded, the motion exaggerated to convey his eagerness. 

“We also spent a good deal of time thinking about the best way to have this discussion,” Sue said. “We decided that the best way would be to have you give us a general idea of current events in the world that you came from. When you state things that differ from this world, we will stop you. Then we will point out the difference, and we can begin tracing back history to find the point of divergence, if we can.” 

“Does that sound alright to you?” Liz asked. 

“Sure,” Harry said. 

“Then let’s get started!” Liz exclaimed. 

There was a long pause. 

“So, uh, I guess the biggest current event I can think of is that Voldemort is back,” Harry began slowly. “Do you know who that is?” 

Liz and Sue shook their heads in unison. 

Harry frowned, certain that Voldemort was out there somewhere. “Wait, how about Tom Riddle, have you heard of him?” Maybe Voldemort had gone undercover before his name became well known? 

“Of course we know Tom Riddle!” Liz said. 

Harry straightened up, his heart pounding in his chest. “You do? What’s he up to? Where’s he hiding, I know—” 

Sue held up a gloved hand. “I am sorry to cut you off, but I have to ask: what do you mean by ‘where is he hiding’? Is he so famous in your world that he must have a pseudonym to hide from the press and the public?” 

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. He shook his head, then tried again. “He’s not famous , he’s infamous . He’s a Dark Lord— he’s— he’s evil!” Harry spat out. 

“Wait, what?” Liz asked, her voice laden with confusion. “What?” 

The nervous energy in Harry’s body became too much. He got up and started pacing around the sitting room. 

“What can you tell us about this Voldemort?” Sue asked. 

Still agitated, Harry did his best to order his thoughts so he could respond coherently. “He’s the worst Dark Lord of the century, even worse than Grindelwald. Most people are afraid to even speak his name, but Voldemort isn’t his real name. His real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, which is an anagram for ‘I am Lord Voldemort’. 

“He was defeated back in 1981, but that only lasted until about a year ago. He’s back now, and he’s gaining power.” 

Harry stopped his pacing and turned to take in Liz and Sue’s reactions. They were both staring at each other, motionless. Then Sue turned towards Harry. 

“Our universes must have diverged significantly for this to happen— I have to ask, are you sure Voldemort was named Tom Riddle?” 

Harry thrust his hand through his hair. “Yes, I am sure. He told me himself!” 

Liz reached out and grabbed Sue’s shoulder. “You’ve met this Dark Lord?” 

Harry’s eyes widened, and he looked away. “It’s a very, very long story, and I don’t think it’s helpful for figuring out where our universes diverge,” Harry said instead.

Liz released Sue’s shoulder and smoothed down her robes. “One day, I’d like to hear that story. It sounds important, even if it’s not relevant to our discussion today.” 

Harry shrugged and nodded, not sure that he would ever be ready to share it. 

“Right, so if Tom Riddle is a— a Dark Lord , then who is Headmaster of Hogwarts in your universe?” Sue asked. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry answered reflexively before the significance of Sue’s question came to him. “Wait, wait does that mean that Voldemort, sorry, Tom Riddle, is the Headmaster of Hogwarts?” 

“Yes, mostly,” Liz said. 

“How is he mostly Headmaster?” Harry asked. 

“He and McGonagall alternate the Head position. When Riddle is the Headmaster, McGonagall is the Transfiguration professor. When McGonagall is Headmaster, Riddle travels and does groundbreaking research. It’s an arrangement that suits them both and has been effective for years now,” Sue explained. 

Harry walked over to the couch and flopped down on it, his thoughts sluggish. Voldemort, Headmaster of Hogwarts. A name and a title that ought to be incompatible with each other. 

“This must be terribly shocking for you,” Liz said, solicitous. 

Harry nodded. 

Silence fell for a long moment as Harry attempted to wrap his mind around the thought of Voldemort as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry knew that Voldemort had wanted to be the Defense professor— maybe he had gotten the position in this universe? 

“You wanted to talk about how the divergences may have come to be, right?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” said Sue. 

“Well, in my universe, Voldemort put a curse on the defense professorship because he was declined for the position. Maybe the point of divergence was that he wasn’t declined for the position here?” 

Sue tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. “That does sound reasonable, but then we have to ask, what was the reason that Tom Riddle was given the job in our universe but declined the job in yours?” 

Harry thought back to everything he knew about Voldemort and the curse on the Defense position, but he could not think of any information that could help. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know about history that far back. Because he’s a Dark Lord, information about him from that long ago isn’t really talked about.” 

“This feels like it’s going to be a dead-end route of inquiry, so why don’t we try something else?” Liz suggested. 

Harry nodded, and so the rest of the conversation went. Harry learned that Cornelius Fudge was a minor politician with little career to speak of. Instead, the Minister for Magic was Barty Crouch Jr., a fact that would have disturbed Harry greatly were he not so preoccupied with the concept of Voldemort as Hogwarts’ Headmaster. 

Dumbledore had spent a couple of years as a professor at Hogwarts, up until he defeated Grindelwald. At that point, he was recommended for— and received— the position of Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. 

The biggest thing to come of the conversation was that Harry finally believed that there was no Voldemort. There was no Voldemort out there waiting, biding his time. There was no hoard of Death Eaters growing more powerful. 

And more than that, there had never been a Voldemort and there had never been Death Eaters. All the people lost to the first war could still be around. The peacefulness Harry noticed at Diagon Alley was warranted— it had been decades since Britain’s last significant magical conflict. 

By the time the Unspeakables floo’d away, Harry was stunned into shocked silence as he processed all that he had learned. 

Harry had spent the past five years of his life living under the shadow of Voldemort. Really, he had lived his entire life under that shadow. But now, it was gone. 

He was free.

Harry spent most of the afternoon pacing around the house, just thinking. When Lily, and later James, got back from work, he settled down with an open book on his lap. 

The time before dinner was spent in pleasant silence with Lily grading, James doing paperwork, and Harry pretending to read. Harry was grateful. Though Lily and James seemed curious about what had happened at the meeting, they left the subject in peace. 

Dinner conversation was light, focused on Lily and James sharing their days. Harry listened, doing his best to keep his hands and mouth occupied with eating to ensure he was not asked to join in. Eventually though, he finished his food and set his utensils down. 

Not long after, Lily set her own utensils down and turned to face him. 

“I know you’ve had a shocking day,” Lily said, resting her forearms against the kitchen table and clasping her hands together, “and James and I want to give you space, but there is something we need to discuss before tomorrow. As you know, we will be going to pick up our son at Kings Cross tomorrow. We view the trip there as a family excursion, so we would appreciate it if you were to come along with us.”

“We would never force you to come, of course,” James cut in. 

Harry set his hands in his lap and began to fidget with the hem of his shirt, his anxiety over meeting the other Harry making itself known. “Are you sure you want me to come—” 

“We’re sure,” Lily and James said in unison. 

Despite his anxiety, the quickness and surety of their response brought a smile to Harry’s face. There was a hopeful light to their eyes, telling Harry that if he refused, they may not be upset, but they would be disappointed. 

And besides that, Harry couldn’t help but want to be included in a family excursion. “Then I’d be happy to go. Oh, um, there is something you should know, though. The Unspeakables said that my immune system is very vulnerable here, and that I should be careful going out in public.” 

Lily and James exchanged a look. 

“We could take precautions, but if you’re not comfortable with going then we certainly won’t force you,” James said. 

“No, I’d like to go,” Harry said. 

“Well, an obvious precaution is to have you use copious amounts of hand sanitizer after you touch everything,” Lily said. 

James nodded. “And I can cast the Bubble-Head Charm on you so that the air you breathe is clean.” 

“But what about the Muggles, won’t they see the bubble around my head?” Harry asked. 

“Not if I cast the variation that is undetectable,” James said with a smile. “It was developed for the Aurors and is very handy.” 

“Would that be enough?” Lily asked. 

Harry shrugged. “I think so.” 

“Then we can get back to the original topic that I wanted to talk about: the fact that you will be meeting our son tomorrow,” Lily said. “The main thing we wanted to be sure you know is that we won’t be forgetting you, come tomorrow. Yes, our attention will be split between the two of you, that much is inevitable. But we will still be here for you and for anything you need.” 

James reached out and put a hand on Harry’s knee. “If there’s any concerns you have, we’d be happy to address them now— or whenever you like, if you’re not ready or can’t think of any now.” 

Harry sat for a moment. His thoughts went to all his fears that this other Harry would be just like Dudley. He started to bury his fears again, to pretend they weren’t there, because surely Lily and James would be offended if he suggested that their son was anything like Dudley. 

Harry looked into Lily’s, then James’s eyes, saw the sheer sincerity they contained, and took a deep breath. 

“Back in my universe, I had a cousin, and he was really nasty and spoiled. Whenever we fought, my aunt and uncle would take his side over mine no matter what…” Harry trailed off, unsure where he was going. 

James squeezed his knee. “Harry is far from nasty, and I don’t think that he’s spoiled either, but Severus always says that we spoil him, so I guess take that bit with a grain of salt.” 

“More importantly,” Lily cut in, “I can guarantee that if you and Harry ever have a conflict, James and I will be sure to investigate both sides of the situation before mediating. We would never blindly take our son’s word over yours.” 

The pounding in his chest settled somewhat, and Harry’s face relaxed into a slight, relieved smile. 

After that, Lily and James spent some time with him, reassuring him further. Harry basked in the attention and did his best to allow their words to soothe his fears over the coming days (and weeks and months). His fears didn’t go away, not entirely. As he took in their words, the knowledge that Lily and James would be very biased sources about their son weighed on him, preventing him from relaxing all the way.

But by the time Harry went to bed that night, he managed to feel a twinge of excitement about meeting the other version of himself. 

Harry followed close behind Lily and James as they pushed through the crowded train station. His right hand was clenched around his wand, and his left around a container of hand sanitizer. He had spent most of the morning feeling anxious about the upcoming trip, with the occasional burst of excitement to disrupt the anxious monotony. 

But now the time was almost here. 

Though the Bubble-Head Charm was invisible to observers, it still warped the sounds of the train station. Harry felt distanced from his surroundings. On top of this, Lily and James had set a very fast pace through the station, so almost before Harry knew it, they had arrived on Platform Nine and ¾.

The train had just arrived, so Harry stood just behind Lily and James as the students spilled out of the cars and onto the platform. Harry’s eyes caught on Cho Chang, and he stepped more firmly behind James. The memory of their last interaction was too fresh for Harry to want to be spotted by her. 

Then Harry remembered that this was not the Cho Chang he knew. And there behind her was Marietta Edgecombe, but she was not the Marietta that had snitched on the DA. 

Scanning the crowd, Harry was able to pick out more and more familiar strangers. 

Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, Astoria Greengrass, Dennis Creevey—

And Ron and Hermione. 

Harry stepped back out from behind Lily and James to get a better look at them, to see if he could discern any differences— to see if they were alright. They looked just the same as they always had, and Harry had to stop himself from stepping forward, from calling out to them. 

Then Ron stopped to tie his shoe, and Harry saw that there was someone else with them. Harry didn’t recognize the student— he was a Gryffindor, a bit shorter than Ron, his hair was black… and messy… 

The realization of whom the student was dawned on Harry slowly, then all at once. His eyes widened and shock flooded his senses as he stared from across the platform.

Bright green eyes met bright green eyes. 

This was the Harry Potter of this universe.

Chapter Text

“Ah, there’s our Harry,” James said, pointing, then using that same hand to wave. 

Harry had yet to break free of his shock. It was as though he was back in third year and staring at his past self. Except this was even weirder— even more wrong—  because this Harry was not him . There were differences between the two of them. 

These differences became more apparent as the other Harry came closer. 

Harry first noticed the lack of a scar on the boy’s face. Then it became clear that the other Harry was, well, larger than him. Not by a lot , but the size difference that James had mentioned was there and noticeable. Harry felt a knot of bitterness tighten within him. 

Harry had always wondered if the lack of food he received at the Dursleys had stunted his growth, and now he had strong evidence that this had been the case. 

“Hey, everyone,” the other Harry said as he approached. 

James stepped forward to meet the other Harry, scooping him into a hug. James was still several inches taller than the other Harry, so he rested his chin on the boy’s head. “I missed you, Harry,” James said, still holding onto his son. 

Harry had to look away from the scene, an unidentifiable emotion flaring up at the sight of the two of them together. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James release the hug, only to be replaced by Lily. 

Looking at the three of them clustered together, Harry couldn’t help but think that they belonged together, that they were meant to be a family. James stood with a hand on each of his son’s and his wife’s shoulder as the other two continued to embrace. They were a family unit, no gaps between them. 

Unconsciously, Harry took a step away, setting himself apart. 

Harry cast his eyes over the crowd to prevent himself from staring at the family scene. So engrossed was he in the number of new faces, that when James laid a hand on his shoulder, he jumped. 

“Oh— sorry to startle you,” said James, pulling his hand away.

Harry shrugged. “It’s no big deal, I just wasn’t paying attention.” And now that he was looking, he saw that James had turned his body, leaving a gap in their group. A gap just big enough for Harry to stand in. Before he could overthink it, Harry took a couple steps forward and joined the cluster. 

“Harry,” Lily said, looking pointedly at him, “why don’t you give Harry—” She turned her gaze to the other Harry. “—some of that hand sanitizer.” 

Harry held out the little bottle of hand sanitizer for the other boy to take. 

As the other Harry used the hand sanitizer, he asked, “So what’s with all this?” 

“Harry’s immune system isn’t right for our universe, so we’re taking precautions to keep him safe,” Lily said. 

“So, I probably shouldn’t hug him then,” the other Harry said, passing the hand sanitizer back. 

As Harry accepted the hand sanitizer, placing it in his pocket, he studied the other Harry’s face. The other Harry certainly looked sincere about his comment, but it was hard to tell— and even harder to trust. If the other Harry had been sincere though, then maybe he was nice and not at all like Dudley. 

“Maybe once we’re back home, and we’ve removed Harry’s Bubble-Head Charm,” James said. 

“I look forward to it,” the other Harry said, raising his arm, then dropping it back down in an aborted motion. 

Harry wondered what he’d been about to do. He’d been looking at Harry, so maybe he’d been about to initiate contact of some kind. Probably friendly contact, since both his parents were right there. 

“Did you want to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione before we go?” Lily asked. 

The other Harry shrugged. “We said goodbye on the train, and we’ll be seeing each other again soon, so I’m alright.” 

Harry glanced around to where he’d last seen Ron and Hermione. He caught a glimpse of Hermione’s bushy hair and a bony elbow that looked to be Ron’s. Harry wished he’d had longer to see them. He knew that they weren’t his best friends, but they looked like them. 

And Harry didn’t have any pictures to remember his best friends by. 

Harry felt the loss of his photo album with a desperation that pulled at his breath and twisted his stomach. He stepped around Lily to get a better look at Ron and Hermione. The sight of their faces was painful and soothing in equal measures. Harry remained frozen, just staring at them, as the buzz of conversation continued around him. 

“Harry, are you ready to go?” James asked. 

Harry tore his gaze away and nodded. 

Lily placed a warm hand on his elbow as they exited the platform. While they walked into the main train station, the others’ resumed conversing, talking quietly under the bustling commotion all around them. 

Harry tuned back into the conversation. The other Harry was chatting about the final game of the Quidditch Cup. Harry was suddenly curious about the state of Hogwarts’ Quidditch in this universe. 

“—still furious that Cadwallader fouled Eva. There was no reason to— Ginny was already after the Snitch at that point.” 

Harry knew the name Cadwallader— the Hufflepuff Chaser— but he didn’t think he’d heard of an Eva before. Harry was sure he knew the names of everyone who played Quidditch. “Who’s Eva?” Harry asked. 

The other Harry looked at him curiously. “Eva is our keeper. She’s a fourth year and very talented— at least partially because Wood spent most of his last year here training her. I thought your universe was pretty similar to ours; how do you not know her at all?”

Harry shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know— maybe she was in a different house in my universe? And didn’t get a chance to play Quidditch because of it?” 

“Wow, this alternate universe thing is fascinating,” the other Harry said. “I mean, I’ve known Eva for years— and you’ve never even heard of her! So who’s yours?”

“Oliver Wood.” 

“Oh wow, did he not find someone suitable to train as his replacement? Our coach always emphasizes the importance of having a backup for every position— both in case of emergency during a game, and ultimately for when people have to graduate.” 

“Wow, um, we didn’t have a coach telling us to do that. We really just had the seven of us practicing together.”

“And I thought only allowing fourteen people per house to play on official teams was bad enough!” Barry said with a chuckle. 

Harry ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, it really isn’t enough people.” 

Harry hadn’t thought about how small the Quidditch teams were, how limiting the number of positions could be. Harry wondered how many aspiring Seekers he had kept from ever playing by occupying the only Seeker position in the house. 

“Did I mention that Harry here was the Seeker for his universe’s house team?” James asked. 

Harry glanced at the other Harry. “Wait, are you not the Seeker?” he asked. 

“No, I’m a Chaser.” 

That was odd to consider. Harry had, of course, played Chaser in the odd pickup match, but he’d never played the position seriously. 

“By the way, dad, where’s Sirius and Severus?” the other Harry asked. 

“They couldn’t make it this time. Sirius has his motorbike race today,” James said. 

“Harry,” Lily said, touching his elbow gently, “if you were wondering why Severus isn’t here either, it’s because he always has to go to Sirius’s races to make sure, and I quote, ‘Sirius doesn’t break his fool neck’.” 

Harry nodded, struck once again by the oddity that was Sirius and Snape being in a committed relationship together. 

James slung his arm around the other Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’ll be at dinner tonight.” 

The other Harry whipped his head around to look at Harry. “Wait a second— we have an even number of Quidditch players now!” 

James adjusted his grip on the other Harry to ruffle his hair. “I was wondering when you’d pick up on that! Harry and I flew around the other day, and I think we’re going to have quite the game.” 

Harry grinned, delighted with the indirect praise. 

They walked back through the train station to the car and then drove back to Potter Cottage, still bantering back and forth about one thing or another. 

Harry expected to be excluded from the conversation while Lily and James sought to catch up with their son. But they didn’t seem to have much to catch up on. Harry realized that the other Harry must write a lot of letters to his parents. Harry wondered if they would expect, or even want, the same from him. 

But Harry couldn’t get too lost in his thoughts because the other Harry seemed determined to keep him involved in the conversation. Every chance the other Harry got, he would turn to Harry and ask for an opinion. 

It felt nice to be so deliberately included. And the more the other Harry turned to him, the more Harry’s fears about the other Harry receded. 

Harry was reading alone in the bedroom when a knock on his door startled him. He quickly cast Tempus and saw that it wasn’t time yet for Sirius and Snape to arrive for dinner. 

“Come in?” Harry called, his voice lifting in curiosity. 

The door swung open and the other Harry walked in. Harry straightened up in his seat. 

“I am sick of unpacking,” the other Harry said, flopping onto the bed. 

“That sucks,” Harry said. The other Harry’s unexpected— and casual— appearance had knocked Harry off balance. 

There was a long silence. 

“So, you’re from another universe,” the other Harry said. “What’s that like?” 

Harry grabbed a pen off his desk and began to fidget with it. “I don’t know. Weird, I guess? I was there and now I’m here.” 

“But what are the differences?” the other Harry insisted. “It’s another universe for a reason, right?” 

Harry thought back to the conversation he’d just had with the Unspeakables and remembered the shock of discovering that there was no Voldemort here. That alone was enough to make him clam up. But the other Harry was staring at him expectantly from his prone position on the bed. 

“There’s not that many differences,” Harry began slowly. “But there’s a lot of differences at the same time.” 

“How’s that work?” 

“Well, a lot of the same people exist. Diagon Alley looks very similar and Hogwarts is still Hogwarts. Big things like that are the same, and that’s apparently a pretty big deal.”

“So there’s universes where those things don’t exist?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess so. I haven’t exactly been to them.” 

The other Harry hummed. “What is different then?” 

Harry sighed. He should have gone on for longer about things that were the same. He racked his brain for a safe difference. “Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster of Hogwarts in my universe.” 

“Huh. How was he?” 

“He’s great!” Harry said, the response automatic. “He really cares for his students and he’s very wise.” 

“Interesting.” 

“So, what’s it like to have two headmasters?” Harry asked, seizing the opportunity to turn the subject away from his universe. 

The other Harry shifted a bit on the bed. “I don’t know. It’s normal for me, you know? McGonagall and Riddle have been sharing the job since long before I was born. They have it down to an art by now.” 

Harry nodded, trying to hide his discomfort with the idea of Voldemort as an effective headmaster. “I guess years of experience will do that.” 

“Harrys!” James shouted from downstairs. “Come help set the table!” 

The other Harry sat up. “Harrys?” he parroted, rolling his eyes. 

Harry stood up, setting the pen he’d been fidgeting with back on the desk. “I guess it’s shorter than saying Harry twice.” 

“I guess,” the other Harry said, standing up. 

As they walked out of the room, Harry looked at his hands and saw that he’d gotten ink all over them from the pen. He sighed and ducked into the washroom to wash it off. 

Harry jumped off the broom as he got close to the ground. He ran to meet the other Harry, who was doing the same. Harry held up his hand, ready for the high five, but the other Harry ignored it and went for the hug. Harry froze in the other Harry’s embrace, then awkwardly raised his arms to return it. 

The other Harry released the hug and whirled around to face James and Sirius, who were a few feet away. Harry and the other Harry walked over to the two men so that they were all clustered into a group. 

“I told you we would win! But you just had to bet against us,” the other Harry said, bouncing forward onto the balls of his feet. 

Harry grinned at the other Harry. 

“Alright, alright, you won fair and square,” James said. 

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, dubious. “Is it really fair if the competition is young and in practice?” 

The other Harry glared at Sirius. “Harry, flick him on the ear for that.” 

Harry glanced at Sirius. 

Sirius stared right back. 

Then, slowly, Harry reached out and flicked Sirius on the ear. 

There had been ample time for Sirius to move out of the way, but he hadn’t. 

“Thank you, Harry,” the other Harry said. 

Harry grinned at him, then looked back to James and Sirius. “So, when will you pay your forfeit?” 

James and Sirius exchanged a look. 

“Never?” they asked in unison. 

The other Harry turned so that his back was to Sirius and James. Then, to Harry, he said, “Wow, I can’t believe I don’t have a father. Can you believe I’m halfway to becoming an orphan? What an unexpected turn of events.” 

Harry sucked in a breath and crossed his arms. That the other Harry could joke about being an orphan like that... but then, he had never experienced war. The other Harry probably didn’t know any orphans, and he probably didn’t know that Harry was an orphan. 

Harry forced himself to release his breath. 

James and Sirius both looked uncomfortable, which made sense, Harry supposed. James had probably told Sirius what Harry had said about his universe. 

The awkward silence lingered, and the other Harry began to look uncomfortable too. 

“I suppose the best time to get our forfeit over with is sooner rather than later,” Sirius said. 

James nodded, the motion glum. 

“Well, get to it. Your bodies won’t push themselves up,” the other Harry said. 

Harry did his best to shake off his lingering discomfort as James and Sirius lowered themselves onto the ground. Harry was quickly distracted by just how bad Sirius’s form was. 

“That’s no way to do a pushup,” Harry said, pointing at Sirius’s bucked knees and slouched back. 

“Yeah,” the other Harry added, walking over to tap Sirius’s knees with his foot, “I’m pretty sure you’re just making things harder on yourself like this.”

Sirius sighed, long and dramatic, but corrected his form.

“How many of these did we agree to?” James asked. 

“Only 100,” Harry said with a smile. 

“We suggested fewer than that, but you two just had to bring it up to a round 100,” the other Harry added. 

Sirius groaned. 

The other Harry pulled out his wand and summoned two folding chairs from the shed. “Here you are, Harry,” he said, handing one of the chairs over. “There’s no need for our feet to get tired while we supervise them.” 

Harry smirked and unfolded his chair to sit in it. 

As James and Sirius were doing their 28th pushup, Lily and Severus came striding out of the house, each with a cool drink in their hand. 

“What is going on out here?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Something about his tone and expression reminded Harry of Snape — the Snape from Harry’s universe. 

“Well, Harry and I won the match,” the other Harry said. 

There was a long silence before Harry realized that the other Harry had paused to let him continue with the story. 

“And that means James and Sirius lost the bet,” Harry said.

“Ah, so that would explain why they are on the ground, proudly displaying their utter lack of workout regimens,” Severus said with a smirk. 

Harry grinned and nodded. 

“Do you mind if we join you in watching the show?” Lily asked. 

“Of course not,” the other Harry said. “Pull up a chair and join us.” 

Lily and Severus exchanged a look, then walked around to stand behind James and Sirius. They both summoned chairs and sat down in them, reclining with their drinks in hand. 

“I must say,” Severus drawled, “the view really is delightful from back here.”

Harry glanced at the other Harry, who was miming making himself throw up. Harry snorted and nodded in agreement. 

“Stop— ogling— us,” James said, panting between each word. 

Harry bent down and scooped up an acorn that was on the ground near his chair. He flung it at James, aiming for the back of the neck, which was where James’ thick hair wouldn’t protect him as much. 

With the precise hand-eye coordination of a Seeker, Harry nailed the throw. 

James’s hand came up to slap at the back of his neck, and he collapsed onto his chest and face. He pushed himself up to his elbows and looked around. “What the hell was that?” 

Harry wiped the smile from his face, adopting a serious expression. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Harry said. 

“And don’t you have pushups to be doing?” the other Harry asked. 

James grumbled and rubbed at the back of his neck. Then he heaved a heavy sigh and got back into pushup position. 

“And that last one doesn’t count,” the other Harry said. 

“It’s not my —” 

“Do you really want to waste your energy quibbling over a single aborted pushup?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrow. 

James shook his head and recommenced his penalty pushups. 

Harry looked over to Lily and mouthed, ‘thank you’. 

Lily smiled in return. 

The remainder of the pushups passed by quickly enough. Thanks to his position as an Auror, James was in reasonable shape. This allowed him to catch up to Sirius and even finish first. 

“C’mon Sirius, you can do it! Just three more!” James encouraged, clapping his hands with enthusiasm. 

“You sound like a little league Quidditch coach,” the other Harry said. 

“I was your little league Quidditch coach,” James said. “Some habits die hard.” 

Harry felt a sting of jealousy at this. Here was yet more proof that the other Harry had been raised in the wizarding world with loving parents. Harry had not even known that little league Quidditch existed, though now that he thought about it, it made sense. Beneath his jealousy was also a sense of loss. He would have loved to play little league Quidditch, but he would never get the chance to. 

Maybe— maybe one day Harry could coach, though. This world was peaceful enough that Harry could imagine himself running around, chasing children (his children?) as they zipped around on brooms. 

“—did it! You’re all done now,” James said with pride. 

Sirius flopped down onto his back and groaned. “Never again. That was awful .” 

Thinking back to their last family dinner, Harry made another suggestion. “How about we make the penalty removing yourself from the cooking rotation, next time?” 

Sirius lazily raised a hand to point at Harry. “That was a low blow.” 

Harry smiled. 

“So you already know about Sirius’s… culinary talents?” the other Harry asked. 

“Sort of. I just know that he hates being removed from the rotation.” 

“Ha ha, sure, laugh at the old man lying on the ground, miserable. We’ll see who’s laughing when I write up my will.” 

The other Harry scooped up another acorn from the ground and pegged Sirius in the nose with it. 

“A-ha! So that’s what happened to me!” James exclaimed, whirling around to thrust an accusing finger at the other Harry. 

The other Harry paused, though his eyes did not flick over to Harry. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You hit me in the back of the neck with one of those acorns and made me do a pushup over again,” James said, indignant. 

“If you say so,” the other Harry said with a shrug. 

Harry frowned, glancing at the other Harry. Why hadn’t he thrown Harry under the bus? Harry had been the one to throw the acorn, after all. 

“You know, it’s been a while since you’ve made me do this,” James said, taking a slow step towards the other Harry. “I’m going to enjoy this a lot .” 

With that, James launched himself at the other Harry, grabbing him in a tight hug. Then, holding the other Harry pinned against his chest, James started to grip the other Harry’s ribs in a vice hold as the other Harry tried to get away. 

James towered over the other Harry, his size and stature ensuring that the other Harry’s struggles were futile. The sight of the other Harry held in James’s crushing embrace brought back painful, stinging memories of Dudley holding him down to beat him. 

Sirius bounded over to join in, blocking Harry’s view of James and the other Harry, and all Harry could see was Dudley’s gang joining in for a round of Harry Hunting. 

Harry took an uncertain step forward. 

“Stop, please!” the other Harry begged. “I can’t—” He broke off into a shriek, the sound painful and desperate. 

Harry pulled out his wand and fired off a quick Petrificus Totalus. First at Sirius, then at James. Once both men were frozen, Harry rushed over to pull them off the other Harry. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, looking him over for injuries. Besides a flushed face, he seemed fine. 

“Er— yes. Thanks for the rescue,” the other Harry said. 

Harry blanched, realizing he had overreacted. James and Sirius had been tickling the other Harry. That must have been a shriek of laughter, not a shriek of pain as his instincts had told him it was. Harry had attacked James and Sirius over a bout of tickling. He struggled to control his racing heart. 

Harry stared at the other Harry and decided he, at least, wasn’t too upset. Harry took a deep breath. “It’s the least I could do considering you did—” 

Harry was cut off by a stern look from the other Harry, who jerked his head in a silencing motion. Now that he knew the other Harry had only been tickled, Harry did not understand why the other Harry was covering for him like this anymore. James didn’t seem too mad about being hit by the acorn, so it didn’t seem like it would be a big deal for him to find out that Harry had been the one to throw it. Although— maybe the other Harry really disliked the tickling and was trying to protect Harry from it? 

Then Harry looked over at James and Sirius, who were still caught in the petrification, and realized that the other Harry was probably trying to protect him from the fallout of that particular stupidity.

It felt odd to have someone (potentially) seeking to protect him from an unpleasant experience, but Harry couldn’t deny that it felt nice. 

“Are you going to unfreeze our husbands any time soon?” Lily asked, pleasant and airy. 

Harry jumped. He’d forgotten that Lily and Snape were there, watching the whole thing. He wondered why neither of them had stepped in or intervened when James had assumed that the other Harry had thrown both acorns. And— why hadn’t either of them stopped Harry from petrifying James and Sirius? 

“You could do it yourself,” the other Harry pointed out. 

Lily shrugged. “I could do a lot of things. I think James and Sirius could use some time to sweat it out.” 

Harry looked back and forth between the pairs of adults. Lily had said to let them sweat, but Harry had been wrong to freeze them. The thought that he had been wrong drove Harry to raise his wand and unfreeze James and Sirius. 

“Aw, Harry, you should’ve left them a bit longer,” the other Harry said. 

Harry took a precautionary step away from James and Sirius, who were shaking themselves out. “I shouldn’t have frozen them in the first place,” Harry said, uneasy. 

Sirius slapped James on the shoulder. “Hey James, guess what?” 

James looked wary. “What?” 

“You got your Head-Auror-ass kicked by a teenager!” 

James rolled his eyes. “Your ass was also kicked by a teenager.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry burst out. 

James and Sirius both turned to look at him. 

“If you’re apologizing for petrifying us, don’t,” James said. “You were just protecting Harry, right?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Then I should be thanking you. Your heart was in the right place, we just need to work on getting your brain in the right place before you act.” 

“Okay,” Harry said, beginning to calm down. 

“You’re one to talk about having your brain in the right place,” Sirius said. 

James elbowed Sirius in the ribs. 

“Can we just go in now? Please?” the other Harry asked. 

“Oh, of course,” James said. He began to walk towards the house, closely followed by the others. 

Harry trailed into the house after the rest of the group, sinking deeper into thought as he went. James wasn’t mad at him for overreacting. The other Harry was far from what Harry had expected him to be, and Harry couldn’t be more relieved. 

Things were looking up for the summer.

Chapter Text

James dropped onto the couch, tossing an arm over the back of it as Lily sat down next to him. 

“Did you set—“ James started. 

“Yes, James, I remembered to set the wards,” Lily interrupted. 

“Good,” said James, sighing with relief. “What the fuck was that?” 

Though he could only view her profile, the baleful look Lily sent his way was effective nonetheless. 

“The fuck that was, was trauma rearing its ugly head,” Sirius said, frustrated and empathetic. 

“I do not believe you could have made that sentence less clear, even if you had spoken it with a fist in your mouth,” Severus said. 

“Is that an offer?” Sirius asked. 

James frowned and saw that Lily and Severus were both doing the same. “I don’t think it wor—” 

“It is an innuendo if I say it’s an innuendo,” Sirius said. “Anyways, let’s get back to the topic at hand.” 

“Yes,” said Lily, “let’s.” 

“At least we know that Harry doesn’t bear our son any ill will,” James said. 

“Or it could have been instinct,” said Severus, ever the devil’s advocate. “We know it was an emotionally charged moment for Harry— he likely didn’t think at all before acting.” 

James frowned and shifted in his seat. “I think that argues my point even better. You’re basically saying that Harry leapt to defend my son because the need to act— to protect was so strong that to do otherwise was unthinkable.” 

“He can protect your son and still bear him ill will,” Severus said, his demeanor dark. 

James twisted in his seat to get a better look at Severus. He was still surveying the other man when Lily spoke. 

“I don’t think that is a concern, Severus.” 

Severus tensed for a moment, then relaxed. 

James breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Am I the only one concerned by how fast Harry was at drawing his wand? And by how quickly he was able to fire off those spells—  wordlessly ? None of us learnt wordless casting until our sixth year, but to pull it off so flawlessly at the age of fifteen is nigh ridiculous,” Sirius said. 

James withdrew his arm from around Lily to prop his chin up on his knee. “He’s fought before.” 

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Sirius reached over and put a quelling hand on his shoulder. Severus’s mouth closed. 

“I’m sure there are a million other things that could cause that reaction,” Sirius reassured, “but given everything else we know, they are not nearly as likely.” 

Severus cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. 

“I wonder if it has anything to do with whatever it was that orphaned him,” James pondered aloud. 

“That seems like a bit of a leap,” Lily said. “We suspect that he was orphaned as a small child, remember? He would have had no chance to fight— and to fight continuously enough to hone his reflexes— at that time.” 

“But—” James protested. 

“No, James,” Lily insisted, “think about what is more likely. That Harry would have learned to fight from an incident as a small child, or that he would have learned to fight from wherever he was placed afterwards.” 

James’s shoulders slumped. 

“Does it really matter where he learnt it?” Sirius asked. “The fact of the matter is that Harry knows how to fight— and more disappointingly— he must view James and I as a threat, at least on some level.” 

James gave in to the urge to bury his face in his hands. 

Lily reached over and rubbed soothing circles into his tense back. Slowly, the tension drained from James’s muscles, but the heavy feeling in his gut remained. 

“I have to wonder if he would perceive Severus and I as a threat in the same way,” Lily said. 

“I hope you never have to find out,” James said, voice muffled by his hands. He lifted his head with a sigh before he continued. “Having someone you care about fear you is not at all pleasant.” 

A heavy silence fell over the group. James still felt tense and miserable at the knowledge that a child feared him, and he couldn’t muster up the energy to disperse the tension with a bad joke or two, as he ordinarily would. 

“Doesn’t it feel like the new Harry is all we talk about?” Severus said, breaking the silence. 

James cocked his head to the side with a slight frown. “Well, yeah,” he said, “obviously.”

“I know we haven’t had as much time lately to discuss our usual topics, but remember when our son was born?” Lily asked. 

Severus’s expression tightened, but he nodded. 

“He was all James and I would talk about—he’s still most of what we talk about,” Lily said.

“And besides,” Sirius added, “Harry comes with a lot of baggage that I’m sure Lily and James appreciate our help with.” 

James was nodding in agreement when the fireplace flared a bright green. He shared a baffled look with Lily— it was far later than was typical for social calls— then hurried over to accept the call. 

“Mother?” James asked, surprised that she would be calling at this hour. He knelt down in front of the fire, casting a cushioning charm on the ground as he went. 

“James, I regret the need to make this call at this late hour,” Mother said with a heavy sigh, “but I thought it best to alert you as soon as possible. Your father and I will have to cancel our brunch.” 

James blinked in surprise— he knew that both his parents had been eagerly looking forward to the chance to see both Harrys. “Is there something wrong?” James asked, his voice low with concern. 

Mother sighed. “Your father and I are well, but your Father’s cousin has passed,” she said, then paused for a long moment. “We are both needed to sort through their last affairs and to begin planning their funeral— you may expect a save-the-date for the event soon.” 

James nodded. “Thank you for informing me, Mother. Harry will be disappointed to have missed you.” 

His mother’s eyes softened. “Pass along my regards to both Harrys, won’t you?” 

“Of course, Mother.” 

“Then I shall leave you to the rest of your evening.” 

“And you as well,” James returned. In unison, they both withdrew from the floo call. He turned to the rest of the room. “How much of that did you hear?” 

“All of it,” Sirius said, unrepentant. 

“We are sorry for your loss,” Severus added. 

James shrugged. “Don’t be, I wasn’t very close to them anyways.” With a sigh, he rose to his feet and returned to his seat next to Lily. She slid her arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into the embrace. 

“I think it’s time Sirius and I took our leave,” Severus said. 

Sirius nodded and got to his feet, cueing all the rest of them to do the same. Sirius and Severus were soon on their way home and he and Lily were in bed for the night.

James placed the rest of the leftovers from lunch in the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. He heard the toilet flush and angled his body to face the direction his wife would approach from. 

“So, were there any leftovers?” Lily asked, moving to take a seat at the kitchen table. 

“Not much, maybe enough for a snack later. It’s in the fridge now.” 

“Thank you for taking care of that,” Lily said. “I’m surprised you didn’t forget to in favor of joining the Harrys in flying.” 

“You know, I did consider it, but I decided not to. I think it’s best if the Harrys have a chance to bond together without us standing over their shoulders.” 

Lily tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. “How long are you planning to give them before joining them?”

“I’m not sure, I was just going to play it by ear,” James said, leaning back in his seat. “But if you have any suggestions, I am more than happy to hear them.” 

Lily hummed, glancing out the window towards the faint sounds of their boys. “I don’t think it matters too much, so long as you do not leave them alone for, say, hours.” 

“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” James said, wry. 

For the next several minutes, James did nothing but enjoy the pleasure of his wife’s company. 

Lily sighed and looked at her watch. “I ought to head out now.” 

“Hm? Where are you going?” 

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “I told you— Alice and I are getting tea together. We have a lot to catch up on,” she said pointedly. 

James grinned. “But won’t Alice just tell Frank everything you tell her?” 

“You always enjoy spending time with Frank, I don’t know why you insist on making such a big production of it every time you see him.” 

James opened his mouth. 

“Never mind,” Lily said, cutting him off, “I have to go. Make sure the boys are being safe out there.” 

James closed his mouth and leaned over to give Lily a peck on the cheek before she left. Then he stood up and grabbed a glass of water. Once the glass was empty, he decided that he had given the boys more than enough time to themselves. 

As he stepped out into the backyard and sat down at the picnic table, he was greeted with the welcome sight of both Harrys zipping through the air. Their flight patterns were independent, but never took either boy too far from the other. With a jolt, James realized that he couldn’t tell which boy was which— the boys were nearly identical, right down to riding the same broom. 

James and his son both owned the same broom, so with Harry back home, there was no reason for Harry to ride an inferior broom. 

For several long moments, James tried to remember which Harry was wearing what, but soon had to abandon the trail of thought as a lost cause. He just hadn’t bothered to notice that— there was no need to when both boys were on the ground because it wasn’t difficult to tell them apart by their mannerisms.

His son Harry held himself with confidence. He was bold and loud and funny. The new Harry did have his loud moments, but for the most part, he seemed to compress in on himself. When the four of them were spending time together, Harry would just sit there and listen more often than not. 

James and Lily had to make conscious effort to remember that Harry was there and even more effort to get him to join in on their conversations. It was well worth the effort, but it only served to point out the differences in the two boys. 

The pair evened out their flying patterns then, beginning to circle around each other while tossing a quaffle back and forth. One of the boys must have mistimed the throw, because the other boy had to tilt his broom into a dive to catch the quaffle. James leaned forward, knuckles white against the table as he watched the boy. 

Then whichever Harry it was leveled out of the dive, and James was able to relax again. The force of his reaction was still such a marvel to him. As a quidditch player himself, Lily, Sirius, and all the others had expected James to be chill about seeing his son fly. Hell, James had expected himself to be chill about seeing his son fly, and yet this had not been and was not the case. 

James had been delighted to purchase Harry’s first broom, back when he had begun to conquer the challenge of walking. But then James had watched Harry cruise through the air of the living room with his heart in his throat, and he had realized that it would not be that simple. 

From then on, James had engaged in a battle of wills with himself every time Harry had wanted to fly— which was quite often. 

To assuage his fears, James had even become Harry’s Little League Quidditch coach. Most people thought it was because he was just that big of a Quidditch fan, and he was, but it was mostly because he wanted to be right there so that he could catch Harry if he ever fell. 

As time went on, James’s more volatile reactions had begun to confine themselves to the times that Harry engaged in risky maneuvers. Unfortunately, with age, Harry had become ever more confident in the air, and so he had begun to experiment with more risky flying. 

And even more unfortunately, the new Harry seemed to have even fewer inhibitions in the air. 

James rubbed at his chest, trying to rub away the fear-induced tightness, and flicked his eyes from one boy to another—

Just in time to see one of the boys spike the ball at the ground.  

The hand rubbing his chest suddenly clenched the fabric of his shirt. James lurched forward, gaze wrenching from the falling ball to the other boy— the other boy had dived at the ball.  

James forced himself to calm down— this wasn’t even a proper game of Quidditch, it was much safer, both boys would clearly be fine. 

Any second now, Harry— whichever Harry it was— would pull out of the dive. He would pull out of the dive just now, surely. The ground was getting awfully close, so Harry must pull out and catch the ball on the bounce. 

James realized that he was running now— he hadn’t meant to do that. There was clearly no need to, Harry would— Harry was not pulling out of the dive. 

James yanked his wand out of his pocket and began casting cushioning charms as he ran. He knew it was pointless, that a fall of this velocity would not be impacted by the charms, but he had to do something. 

And then, seconds before Harry would have collided with the ground, he caught the ball and twisted out of the dive. He wobbled on the ascent, however, and fell a couple feet onto the ground. 

James stopped casting the cushioning charms and ran over. As he drew near, Harry sat up and began to pat himself down. This sight, the confirmation that Harry was alright, was enough for all of the panic churning through James’s body to transform into anger, as though a switch had been flipped. 

“Harry James Potter,” James shouted, his heart pounding so intensely that his body was shaking. Or maybe it was just residual adrenaline and fear. He strode forward, towards where Harry was still sitting on the ground looking dazed. James still could not, for the life of him, tell which Harry it was, not that the distinction mattered to his heart or his nerves. 

“What have I said about practicing dangerous Quidditch moves?” James demanded. “Do not ever practice them in front of me —” 

When James was only a step or two away, Harry staggered to his feet. James paused, then raised his hands to place them on Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s eyes met his own for a brief moment, and James was close enough to see Harry’s pupils widen, so large as to make his eyes almost seem black. 

James lunged the last step forward, hands closing around— 

Nothing. 

James’s hands closed into fists, and he whirled around, as though expecting to find Harry standing behind him with a smile on his face. The sight of his empty yard greeted him. He whirled around, spinning, hoping that each degree of rotation would bring Harry into view. 

“Dad,” Harry called, landing his broom. 

James turned to face him, forcing his panic and fear down so as not to worry the boy that James could now see was his original son. “Harry, did you see what happened?” 

Harry shook his head. “One minute he was standing there by his broom, the next he was gone. It was almost like apparition, but I didn’t hear the crack…” 

James tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking hard. “No, there was no sound. But Harry is gone—” James stopped and could sense the answer, just out of reach. James knew what had happened, he just had to remember it. Harry had essentially apparated away without a sound… 

“Harry accidentally apparated away,” James said, the knowledge suddenly clear in his mind. 

There was a pause. 

“You can do that?” Harry asked. 

“Accidental magic can accomplish just about anything that intentional magic can. For most people, accidental magic occurs throughout early childhood and confines itself to small displays for entertainment or minor comfort. In some cases, however, particularly in circumstances of extreme emotion, accidental magic can be used for defense or escape. 

“And the more magic is called upon for those purposes, the more likely it is to react in a defensive manner the next time. I suspect that is what happened here,” James said. 

“But my magic doesn’t do that,” Harry said, confused. 

“You and the new Harry may be alike in many ways, but remember, he’s from an entirely different universe than you. There’s bound to be differences between the two of you,” James said, reluctant to share more of his thoughts and suspicions with his son. It would feel like a violation of Harry’s privacy.  

Harry nodded. “So what’re we going to do? We have to find Harry.” 

“He could be just about anywhere,” James said, drawing out the words slowly, “so we should start by contacting my coworkers to start searching for Harry. You should call your mother and tell her what happened.” 

“Okay, should I tell her to come home or that we have it covered?” Harry asked. 

James thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of each possibility. “Tell her that we have it covered. After all, what’s the worst that can happen?” 

Chapter Text

Harry crashed to the ground with a stumble and a grunt. He whipped his head from side to side, disoriented, trying to figure out what had just happened. 

One moment he had been standing on the ground and watching James approach, and the next James had raised his hand— the last thing Harry had seen. In the moment, Harry had thought that James was going to hit him, but looking back, Harry flushed with shame. He should know better than that by now. 

Lily and James had been nothing but good to him— but then, James had never seemed so angry before… 

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. He let himself just lie there and wallow for several moments before he pushed himself into a seated position. For the first time, he surveyed his surroundings and, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized where he was. 

Magnolia Crescent. 

The suburban houses surrounding the park with their generic lawns and boring cars could have come out of just about any British neighborhood. But this was the playground that he had visited so often last summer, and nothing at all seemed to have changed since then.

Harry’s heart thudded in his ears as he lept to his feet, a wary eye out for Dudley and his gang. There were many things different about this universe, but Harry just could not imagine his cousin changing in any positive way. 

“Hello!” a young voice shouted from afar. 

Harry whirled around to see who that had been. It was a child, about the age to be starting primary soon. A moment later, Harry recognized him as one of the many children that had once run away in fear at the sight of Harry, thanks to all the rumors that Aunt Petunia had spread.

“Uh, hello,” Harry returned, cautious. 

“Don’t move,” the child shouted again, before turning to run in the other direction. 

This was more what Harry was used to, though the command to not move was unusual. Harry sat back down, wondering if he was being foolish, since the child could have run off to retrieve someone to yell at Harry. Really though, any adult the child could retrieve would only be able to tell him to leave. 

But Harry had nowhere to go. He still needed to figure out how to get back to Potter Cottage, a difficult task given that he didn’t actually have any idea where it was. He could remember driving to King’s Cross Station a couple of days ago, but for the life of him he could not remember anything about where Potter Cottage actually was. Not for the first time, Harry wished he had a reliable sense of direction. 

On top of that, Harry also had to figure out what he would do once he did return to the Potters. The look of anger on James’s face as he approached Harry was burned into Harry’s memory. 

Even now, sitting in the sunlight in the pleasant park, Harry’s heart began to pound as he remembered the moment when James had raised his hand. 

Harry was torn from the memory by the sound of approaching footsteps and high pitched laughter. He climbed to his feet and saw that the child from before had returned— with what must be two of his friends. 

To Harry’s surprise, the children seemed excited, and there were no angry adults with them. The three of them each stood not much higher than Harry’s waist, and Harry took a moment to marvel that he had ever been that small. They were all dressed in clothes meant for play. The boy from earlier looked like he could be siblings with one of the girls, and the other girl was probably Indian, like Harry. 

“You’re still here!” the boy exclaimed, careening to a halt in front of Harry. 

Harry nodded, unsure. 

The boy exchanged a look with his friends. The friends nodded. The boy nodded back. 

“Play with us,” the child demanded. It was not a request. 

Harry blinked. “Do your parents know you’re here?” he asked. He could not believe that the parents of children who live in this neighborhood would be okay with letting their children around him— 

Except this wasn’t the neighborhood Harry had grown up in. 

These weren’t the children of parents whose ears had been filled with vile towards Harry. Harry wondered if these children had even been bullied by Dudley, then realized that it hardly mattered. In this world, Harry would not have been associated with Dudley at all. 

The children had shrugged in response to his query. “They know we’re about,” the boy from before said. The two girls with him nodded firmly, corroborating his story. 

Harry thought for a moment, then nodded. He was still dazed from everything that had happened, but he did his best to shove the feeling back so he could focus on the children. “What game are you playing?” 

“Hide and seek,” the girl on the left declared. 

“We never have enough people for a proper game of hide and seek,” the boy added. 

“But now you can join us!” the girl concluded, a happy grin on her face. 

Harry scrubbed at his face, but his thoughts were still so sluggish. The children were staring at him with excited looks on their faces, but the longer he remained silent, the further the joy slipped from their expressions. 

“Alright,” Harry finally said, desperate to stop them from crying or something worse. 

Immediately the children’s expressions brightened They exclaimed their excitement amongst each other, bouncing in place and high-fiving each other, before they turned to Harry once more. 

“You do know how to play hide and seek, right?” one of them asked, eyes wide and serious. 

Harry nodded. “But what are your names?” 

The boy’s mouth fell open in a round O of surprise. “Oh right! I’m Luke.” 

“I’m Ananya,” the girl in a blue shirt said. 

“And I’m Alex,” the girl in a yellow shirt said. 

Harry nodded, trying to commit the names to memory. “So—” 

He was cut off by Alex. “So you’ll be it first— make sure you count to 30, and no peeking!” 

Luke and Ananya nodded in enthusiastic agreement. 

Harry sighed and pivoted on his foot, raising his hands to cover his eyes. “Thirty,” he called out, voice loud and clear. Behind him, he could hear the children giggle, then run off. He had the fleeting thought that he ought to have checked for the boundaries of the game, but he figured that it would be fine. At their age, the children weren’t likely to be skilled hiders. 

Now alone behind the darkness of his covered eyes, all of Harry’s earlier thoughts and worries came crashing back to him. 

James had been so angry, but Harry still didn’t quite know why. James had been saying something as he had approached Harry, but Harry hadn’t been able to focus clearly enough to tell what the words were. 

All Harry had been able to hear was the overwhelming anger present in the man’s voice. Then with a sickening clarity, Harry realized what must have happened.

He had been set up by the other Harry. There must be some rule of the Potter household, something very important, that the other Harry had set Harry up to violate. A knot twisted in Harry’s stomach. Somehow, despite the short time he had known the boy, the betrayal stung. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tighter and thrust that line of thought away. There was nothing to be done about it now. Of more pressing concern was what James would do when Harry returned. And, of course, Harry still had to figure out how to return. 

Before Harry could begin to turn these pressing problems over, he realized that he was reaching the end of the countdown and that it was almost time to search. “...two...one...ready or not, here I come!” Harry called, removing his hands from his eyes and turning back around. 

At first glance, the playground in front of him was clear of motion. But as Harry swept his eyes over the playground equipment, he caught sight of an elbow sticking out from behind the slide. With a slight smile and a sigh of relief, Harry set out to catch whichever child it was. 

As he walked, he hoped the other children would be around the playground too. The thought of a larger search sounded so exhausting that Harry had the urge to just lay down on the ground and do nothing at all. 

Then Harry heard a stifled giggle from behind the slide and his lips quirked up in amusement. Some of his exhaustion receded as he gave in to the amusement that was a child trying to play hide and seek. Harry clung to the feeling and set out to just enjoy the game. 

Harry had much more fun than he had thought he could playing hide and seek with Luke, Ananya, and Alex. Perhaps this was due in part to the fact that, growing up, he had convinced himself that these sorts of games were not actually all that fun. That had made it all the easier to pretend he didn’t care that he was left out of his classmates’ games. 

But now he had definitive proof that hide and seek really was that fun. Playing with the children had made Harry long for what his childhood could have been. There was just something about being enthusiastically accepted into their little friend group that made Harry long for the things he had never had as a child and had just lost when he tripped through the veil. 

After not long at all, the children heard the distant sounds of their parents calling them home. With the children gone, the park felt empty and desolate. All the anxiety Harry had put off to play with the children came crashing back, leaving Harry’s breath stuttered and his chest tight. 

Harry was stranded in Surrey with no idea how to get back to the Potters. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered over to the swing set. Just as he had done countless times in his original universe, Harry started listlessly swinging back and forth, barely rising a couple of inches with each pass. 

The problem was that Harry wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go back yet. James had been furious with him, and even now, hours later, Harry’s hands shook when he thought of having to see James again. 

It wasn’t that Harry was worried about what James was going to do to him, more that things had never gone well for Harry when he’d been subjected to that much anger. Being in this park, in this neighborhood, where he had often gone to flee from the anger directed at him, was not helping matters either. 

Harry stopped the swing and started scuffing his feet through the mulch. Night was going to fall soon, and he would need to figure something out before dark. 

The thought that the Dursleys might know where the Potters lived, at the least, crossed Harry’s mind again. 

It was somewhat comforting to remember that they wouldn’t actually know him in this universe. In fact, they may not recognize Harry at all, depending on how often the Potters saw them. Harry hoped it wasn’t very often, for the sake of his future sanity— the thought of Christmas dinners with the Dursleys was disturbing. But regardless of how often they saw each other, surely they would know where the Potters lived, right? 

It was the only option Harry could think of— unless he decided to use magic to get the attention of the Ministry, who could then take him back to the Potters. But that was worse than asking the Dursleys, because doing that would give James another reason to be mad at him, and that was the last thing Harry needed. 

Harry could feel the strain of his lack of options pressing down on him. How did he always end up in these messes? 

With a great deal of reluctance, Harry got up from the swing and turned in the direction of Number Four, Privet Drive. His shoulders slumped forward and he could not help but remember every other time he had made this miserable walk back. 

Crack

Harry jumped back, bumping into the swingset he had scarcely taken a step away from. He whirled around, searching for the wizard that must have apparated into the small park. 

At first he saw nothing, but after a moment, Harry realized that whoever had come was probably disillusioned since they had appeared in a muggle park. With this in mind, Harry was able to spot a patch of distorted space. That must be the person. 

Harry drew his wand, but held it by his side in an attempt to keep from looking too strange to any muggle passers-by. He took cautious steps towards the distorted space, his mind already racing with defensive spells and strategies. He had the brief thought that this, at least, would attract the magical attention he needed to get back to the Potters. 

When Harry was a couple steps away, he saw the blur of spells fly past him. He launched into action, whirling his wand up and around, casting first shield charms, then under his breath, “ Expelliarmus!”  

The spells were absorbed by Harry’s shield charms, and the patch of distortion swerved out of the way of Harry’s spell. 

Harry grunted with frustration; the fact that he couldn’t see his opponent was making this much more difficult than it had to be— though that did make him wonder if he could fight under his invisibility cloak. He was distracted from this line of thought by a spell coming right at him. 

He leapt out of the way, rolling to the ground and shooting another, “ Expelliarmus!” at where he remembered the previous spell coming from. 

“Show yourself,” Harry shouted, frustrated when his spell missed yet again. 

A grunt and a returned, “ Expelliarmus” was the only response Harry got.

Harry blocked the spell and readied a sequence of prank spells and disarming charms. He deliberately aimed wide to the left of the distorted patch, then to the right, casting in rapid fire. 

Dropping to the ground, Harry avoided a petrifying charm. He rolled to the side, then leapt back to his feet, an idea crystallizing in his mind. 

He shot off a few more disarming charms, again aiming poorly, then with as much precision as he could muster, he cast a spell that shot mud at wherever his wand was pointed. 

With a grin, he flicked his wand up and down to ensure his opponent was coated from head to toe. 

Then he gasped and leapt away as a stinging spell clipped him on the elbow. Harry cursed under his breath, retreating a few steps away. At least he could see his opponent now. 

After his brief reprieve, Harry surged back towards the person, flinging spells with much more accuracy than before. He could see now that his opponent was skilled, able to dodge or block Harry’s spells with seeming ease. 

Harry pushed forward, increasing the pace of his spell casting, and he remembered his earlier strategy. Doing his best to make his misses seem natural, he started forcing his opponent around, hoping to back him up against a nearby tree. Slowly, slowly his plan began to work. 

Step by step, Harry pressed onward, until his opponent faltered in his shock as his back pressed into the tree. 

With a grin of triumph, Harry petrified, then disarmed them, catching their wand with ease. Then Harry cast a spell to get rid of the mud, followed by a quiet, “ Finite Incantatum .” This revealed a large, furious man lying rigid on the ground. 

A large, furious man wearing Auror robes. 

Harry froze, panic surging through his veins, bringing him crashing down from the high of victory he had so recently experienced. The Ministry was after him— Voldemort— 

But there was no Voldemort. 

Harry faltered a step backwards, unable to process what was happening. Nothing made sense— there was no Voldemort, but he had just been attacked by an Auror—

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a loud, gruff voice asked. 

Harry jumped and took a couple more steps back, away from the voice that he now realized was coming from the Auror. Another moment later, and the Auror was slowly getting to his feet. 

“I said , what the hell do you think you’re doing?” the man repeated, his hands clenched into fists and his face bursting with color. 

If Harry had thought James was angry with him, that was nothing compared to the incandescent rage of this man. Harry shook his head mutely. He had no idea what this man wanted , but at least Harry still had both their wands. 

“Give me my wand back,” the man said. 

Harry remained frozen. 

“ Now. ” the man insisted, taking a step towards Harry. 

Harry took a look over his shoulder, wondering if he could get away. But by the looks of the man, he was much faster than Harry, and his thrice cursed accidental magic only ever seemed to help him get into more trouble, so he couldn’t rely on it to get him out of here. And the auror must have some skill with wandless magic since he had snapped the petrification while Harry was holding his wand. 

“There will be consequences—” the man started to say. 

Harry went rigid at the word, then forced himself to obey. There was nothing to be gained by arguing, and at least he still had his wand. He could think of something. Later. 

“Come here,” the man said, beckoning to the spot next to him. 

Harry looked at the man in disbelief, unable to believe that he thought Harry would just go to him like that after he had attacked Harry. 

“Why did you attack me?” Harry demanded instead. 

“What do you mean, why did I attack you?” the man spluttered, indignant, “you attacked me .” 

“You’re the one who apparated into this park, invisible!” Harry said. “What else was I supposed to think?” 

“That I was here to clean up the mess you made.” 

Harry faltered, then rallied. “I didn’t even make a mess until you butted in! I hadn’t even cast any magic— and how did you even find me?” 

“That is none of your concern,” the man said in a voice so condescending Harry saw a flash of red. 

Harry opened his mouth, but before he could give the man a piece of his mind, the man interrupted him. 

“A far more pressing question, is why you felt the need to immediately attack me.”

“I didn’t attack you,” Harry repeated, “I was just defending myself—” 

“Never mind,” the man said, with a dismissive jerk of his head. “I do not get paid enough to deal with trigger-happy teenagers. I’ll just let your dad deal with this.” 

In the split second it took Harry to connect ‘your dad’ with ‘James Potter’, he went from furious to terrified. 

“You know him?” Harry asked, faint. 

Another roll of the man’s eyes. “Why the hell else do you think I was out here looking for you?” he asked, then added, “kids these days.” 

This was somehow worse than when Harry thought the man was here to attack him. James— and Lily, by extension— were going to hear about how he had attacked the Auror. And from their interactions so far, the Auror was going to make the situation sound as bad as he possibly could. 

Harry had messed up so very many times today. James was already so angry at him, and now things were just going to get worse.

This time, when the man stepped forward to grab Harry’s arm, he didn’t resist. The grip was far too tight and right over where he’d been hit with the stinging curse. The conflicting sensations of pressure and stinging took his breath away for just a moment. Harry refused to let this man get to him anymore than he already had, so he just grit his teeth and bore it. And if he kept his silence in an attempt to keep from messing things up any further, then who was to know but him?

Chapter Text

Harry scuffed his foot against the ground, his gaze fixated on the bare table in front of him. After apparating the two of them into the Ministry of Magic, the auror had dragged Harry by his injured shoulder into the interrogation room where Harry now sat. 

He had no idea how long it had been since the auror had left Harry alone in this room. The room looked much like interrogation rooms looked in Muggle television shows. One wall was covered in windows, double-sided, or so Harry assumed. And other than that, the table, and the chair Harry was sitting in, the room was empty. 

It was mind-numbingly boring. 

At least Harry wasn’t restrained in any way. He was free to move about the room as he wished, but after he had confirmed that the door was locked— and warded far better than the third floor corridor had been in first year— all he had done was sit. 

And he could kill for a glass of water. Harry hadn’t realized how much energy he had exerted while dueling the auror, but it was apparently enough energy to drench him in sweat and leave him feeling fatigued. It was summer, and Harry was now realizing just how much water he must have lost running, dodging, and flinging spells around like that. With a surreptitious glance at the mirror, he stuck his nose in his armpit and recoiled. 

He needed a shower. 

Just to have something to do with his hands, Harry started tapping his fingers against the table. He didn’t know how long he would last in this empty room, with nothing to do. 

Inextricably, Harry’s thoughts went back to the last time he was alone in the ministry. And from his thoughts of that other empty room, Harry thought of Liz and Sue and wondered how they were doing. Though he knew it was a pointless thought, he wished they had been the ones to find him; they had been much nicer to him than the auror had been, after all. 

With the memory of the two aurors, Harry began to remember more of that fateful day. Sirius’s death, his own trip through the veil, meeting this alternate version of his parents. It had been a very momentous day, and it had all begun in some version of this very building. 

Harry sighed and started swiveling back and forth on the stationary chair. He swung his legs to the right, then to the left, and back again. There was just so little to do in this room that even this small motion helped to alleviate the boredom. Then, his swinging caused his wand to press against his leg from where he’d stashed it in his pocket, and for a moment he contemplated how to break out of the interrogation room. 

Why hadn’t the auror taken his wand? It didn’t make sense to keep him in custody without disarming him, unless it was a trap? Maybe to bait him into breaking more rules and making things worse for himself?

But then, he had already attacked the auror. Was attempting to break out of an interrogation room any worse than assaulting an auror? Because Harry could only assume that he was being held here for his assault on the auror, never mind that it had been the only thing that made sense for him to do. 

With a sigh, Harry decided that an escape attempt was probably a very bad idea. He rested his hand against the wand in his pocket, but resisted the urge to draw it. Harry ought to avoid doing anything that this auror wanted him to do, and since the auror had left him with his wand, he should avoid using it. 

Harry groaned and rested his forehead against the cold, hard table in front of him. His throat was dry, his mouth was parched, his head was starting to pound, and his shoulder still stung. It was a miserable existence, and Harry wondered if he could possibly pass it by falling asleep. 

Without much hope for success, he closed his eyes and wrapped his uninjured arm around his head on the table. 

Harry must have dozed off in that position, because the next thing he knew, the door to the interrogation room was bouncing off the wall, and someone was coming into the room.  

Moving on instinct alone, Harry surged to his feet and drew his wand, pointing it at the newcomer. Seconds later, his common sense returned, and he froze in panic, dropping his wand in the process. He could not get in trouble for assaulting an auror again . 

Then he finally realized who had come in. 

“James?”

“Harry!” James exclaimed, panic lacing his tone. Then he was charging at Harry. 

Harry recoiled, the panic he had just felt before surging through him again. Then Harry forced himself to look James in the eye and saw only overwhelming relief there. The force of the emotion made Harry look away once more, but it was enough to convince Harry to take a step towards James. 

“Is it alright if I hug you?” James asked. 

Harry looked up again, surprised. “Er—” He had never been asked if he wanted a hug before, and truth be told, he didn’t particularly want a hug right now. He was still so worked up from earlier, and the thought of James pressing on his injured arm turned his stomach. But Harry had already disappointed James so much today… The right thing to do was probably to just say yes… 

James shuffled his feet and shrugged. “You can say no— I just— I was so worried—” 

Harry looked down at his feet and opened his mouth to say yes, because really it wouldn’t be so bad— he had had so few hugs before, so what if this one sucked a little— 

“Never mind, now clearly isn’t the time,” James said before Harry could speak. “Oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot this— Lily would have killed me—” he muttered, rummaging through his pockets. 

After a moment or two, James seemed to find what he was looking for. He pulled a small object out of his pocket and presented it to Harry with a flourish. “Ta-da! This is for you.” 

Harry reached out to take it and saw that it was a small mirror, about the size of his palm. For a moment, he stared at it blankly, then looked to James for an explanation. 

James was standing just as he had before. 

After another moment of silence, Harry realized that no explanation was forthcoming. “Er— thank you?” he said, wondering if it was a simple mirror like it appeared to be. 

James’s expression morphed to one of slight confusion. “You do have Lookie-Talkies where you’re from, don’t you?”

Harry shrugged helplessly. He had no idea. 

“Well, regardless, what I’ve given you there is a Lookie-Talkie. We use it here in the department for field work, though the general public tends to view it as little more than a toy for children to play with. I digress. Lily and I have decided to ask you to keep that mirror on you at all times until you can confidently apparate home from anywhere in England.” 

A knot in Harry’s chest loosened and he had to blink back some sudden wetness in his eyes. “I can do that,” he said, once he was confident that he wouldn’t sound choked up. 

Harry glanced at James again and saw that he had taken a step back and leaned against the table with his arms. Harry frowned and returned his gaze to the ground. He reached up to wrap his arms around himself and accidentally pressed his hand against the injury on his arm. He yelped for a moment, then slammed his mouth shut. 

James looked up, suddenly attentive. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“It was not nothing, you sounded as though you were in pain,” James insisted. 

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at the spot on his arm, his teeth firmly clenched shut. 

“Did Williamson do something?” 

Harry unclenched his jaw. “Who?”

“Williamson, he’s the auror who found you.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, his stomach falling. Of course James would know the person that Harry had attacked. “I’m sor—” 

“Don’t be,” James said in a rush. “Williamson has—” James glanced at the door, then at the mirror. “Williamson can be a bit difficult to work with.”

“Oh,” Harry said again, this time hopeful that maybe his screw up hadn’t been that big of a deal.

“So,” James said, stressing the syllable. “What is wrong with your arm.” 

“It’s really not that—”

“If you say it’s not that big of a deal one more time, I— I will be very frustrated. Whatever it is is clearly causing you pain, and therefore it matters to me.” 

Harry decided that he would be not winning this argument. He glanced at his sleeve and reached to begin rolling it up as gingerly as possible. 

“Wait, stop, I can just turn your sleeve transparent.” 

“Just the sleeve?” 

James nodded. 

Harry sighed with relief and lowered his arms. 

James drew his wand from a forearm holster and pointed it at Harry’s sleeve. Whatever the spell was, James cast it without words, his wand movements short and precise. 

Curiously, Harry glanced down to see what his arm looked like. He hadn’t wanted to see it before, and hadn’t wanted to deal with baring the injury on his own. Then his sleeve went transparent and his train of thought deserted him. 

The injury was worse than Harry had thought it would be. It was far from the worst injury he had had, but the contrast from the rest of his healthy brown skin was stark. The place where the spell had impacted his skin was rubbed raw, almost like a rug burn, but in a perfect circle. The center of the circle had pierced through the skin enough to draw a few, now dried, drops of blood. 

And on top of the abrasion from the stinging spell, Harry could see the general outline of Williamson’s hand. There was a faint but noticeable darkness, covering the entire area of the abraded skin and wrapping around the rest of his arm. Harry was sure that if he had had a better angle, he’d be able to see the shape of the man’s fingers pressed into his skin. 

“This is not nothing,” James said, his voice flat and expressionless. 

Harry nodded, forced to concede the point with the evidence before their eyes. 

“I can heal the abrasion with a spell, but the bruising will need to be taken care of with a cream. We have plenty of the cream at home, but to tide you over until then, I’ll cast a numbing charm on the general area.” 

Harry resisted the urge to insist that he didn’t need the numbing charm. Though the injury didn’t bother him much, he thought that it might upset James to refuse the help. 

“I’m going to have to remove the sleeve for this, but I’ll put it right back once I’m done,” James said. 

“Alright.” 

They fell into silence as James cast a couple of spells. First, James cast a very precise slicing charm that caused the sleeve to slide down Harry’s arm. Harry caught it just as it would have slid past him to the ground. 

Harry coughed, his throat still as dry as a desert, and only just managed to stop himself from coughing into his injured arm. 

“Do you need water?” James asked, pausing in place. 

Harry found himself nodding before he could even consider the question, his thirst overriding his urge to overthink everything. 

James conjured a glass of water for him, which Harry drank gratefully, then James started to heal Harry’s arm. Though most of the spells were familiar from his time with Madam Pomfrey, Harry still found himself fascinated with the spells’ function. He was almost disappointed when the sleeve began to slide back up Harry’s arm and fuse with his shirt of its own volition. 

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at James. Now that he was done healing Harry, James was standing there, perfectly still. Harry thought back to Occlumency lessons with Snape and wished he could use legilimency to figure out what James was thinking.

There were just too many factors at play here for Harry to figure out what the hell was going on.

Harry had needed to be picked up in an interrogation room after attacking one of James’s co-workers, but then it turned out that James maybe didn’t like that coworker. Then James got very worked up about Harry’s injuries, and now they were both just standing in silence. 

James heaved a sigh— 

For the second time, the door to the interrogation room was shoved open. 

James raised his eyes to the heavens as if in supplication, then turned to face the newcomer. 

Harry shuffled around so he could get a good view past James. 

There, standing in the doorway, was Williamson. He looked as though he had tried to clean off the mud Harry had dumped on him with some hasty, not totally effective cleaning spells. Harry couldn’t help feeling some pride at the state he had reduced this man to. That is, until Harry remembered that, distasteful coworker or not, this was James’s colleague. 

Despite his bedraggled appearance, Williamson’s face was very, very smug. The way his mouth curved into a smile as his eyes lazily swept over Harry sent an icy bolt of fear through his heart. The man must know something that Harry didn’t— something that boded ill for Harry. 

With no small amount of trepidation, Harry glanced at the mirror, trying to see James’s face. He had an odd expression, but it was gone before Harry could fully process what it was. 

Harry returned his gaze to the ground, shoulders hunched. 

“Potter. I see you’ve found your,” Williamson paused, an uncertain look crossing his face, “boy.” 

“And I see that your return to training last month hasn’t done anything to improve your performance in the field.” 

“At least I am not the one who managed to lose control of a 15 year old. He’s right at the age where you need to take a firm hand with him, or else who knows what kind of punk he’ll end up as.” 

Harry hunched down further. 

“Who is your supervisor again? I know you tend to be passed around a bit, so I want to make sure that when I file a complaint about you, I’m speaking to the right person.” 

Harry’s stomach tightened in fear at James’s lack of acknowledgement of the suggestion that he take a firm hand with Harry. Harry knew , on some level, that James wasn’t likely to do any such thing, but he lived in fear that one day Lily and James would wake up and pick up where Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had left off. 

“A complaint?” Williamson sputtered. “Whatever for?” 

Harry turned his head so he could see James’s reaction to this. James was blinking, slow and deliberate, an atmosphere of complete astonishment over his entire being. 

“You can’t mean to say that you don’t know why I would want to file a complaint,” James said. 

“I’m the only one who managed to find the damn kid! You should be commending me for putting up with his aggression and insolence, not complaining about me!” 

“Putting up with?” James repeated, sputtering. “ Putting up with? Is that what you call what you did?” 

“I truly do not understand how you have advanced as far as you have. Nearly incoherent, you are.” 

“In— you think I’m incoherent? You can’t see how I’ve advanced as far as I have? You’re the troglodyte that attacked my— Harry and had the audacity to think that he should be commended for it! Oh congrats, you happened to be the one who stumbled on him, but you completely failed at every step that comes afterwards—”

“But—” 

“Cease and desist with your paltry attempts to shift the blame around. You won’t come out of this situation looking good no matter how quickly you talk. The bottom line is that you attacked a minor, then put him in an interrogation room without medical care or any other comforts. There is no excuse for that, and I will see you disciplined.” 

Harry’s jaw dropped and he was openly staring at James. He could not believe that that was how James viewed the situation— he must have spoken to the auror at least a little before coming to get Harry, so Williamson would have had a chance to spin things however he wanted to. 

Then, despite the fact that James hadn’t even spoken with Harry to get his side of the story, James had decided to take Harry’s side against his adult coworker. 

Williamson was left spluttering in the doorway, seemingly too enraged to form coherent sentences. 

James turned around to face Harry. “Are you ready to head out?” 

Harry nodded, still transfixed by the sight of Williamson turning redder and redder. It was almost reminiscent of Uncle Vernon’s ability to change colors, though no one could obtain the same shade of puce as his uncle. 

James stepped aside, leaving a path for Harry to go in front of him. “After you.”

Harry went first, treading with caution and keeping a close eye on the still-enraged Williamson. To Harry’s surprise, the man didn’t try anything, and Harry was able to set foot into the hallway without any issue. 

James followed behind him, but before stepping out into the hallway, he stood face to face with Williamson, inches away from his nose. Thrusting his finger into Williamson’s chest, James began to speak. “If you ever, ever harm Harry or any other child again, I will have your badge on my desk.” 

With that, James turned and strode off down the hallway, beckoning for Harry to follow him. 

Chapter Text

Harry and James landed on the porch outside of Potter Cottage. Harry was still lost in a daze of shock, the words James had said to that auror, Williamson, echoing around his mind. The rage had been palpable in James’s voice, his demeanor, his words— but Harry had not been afraid. 

Maybe it was because he had already spent all his fear for the day, though even as the thought crossed his mind, Harry knew that it was not true. He had not been afraid of James because he was beginning to trust James— to really trust that the man’s anger was not something to fear. To believe that James had his best interests at heart and was in his corner. 

And there was that fear that he had not felt earlier. 

“Are you coming?” James asked. 

Harry startled and looked up, realizing that James had taken several steps towards the house without him. Harry nodded and hurried forward, cueing James to resume walking as well. 

“I’m sorry you had to see me lose my temper with Williamson like that,” James said as they walked up to the house. “I don’t tend to let that happen much, but his behavior today was a bit of a last straw for me.” 

“Er—” Harry said, feeling a bit loose and untethered. “That’s alright?” 

James reached towards Harry for a moment, then stopped, switching his momentum so that he opened the door instead. 

Harry knew that James had been about to touch him, but he had decided not to. That decision was another action that felt right , like another piece of evidence proving that James was good and on his side. And there was that fear again, that fear of trusting, but this time it was just the slightest bit quieter. 

“Oh thank god you’re home,” Lily said, hurrying out of the kitchen. “I was just about to send Severus in after you, and Merlin only knows how that would have gone.” 

Harry startled at the sound of Snape’s first name but remained quiet. 

“That would have been a terrible idea,” James said darkly. “Williamson’s the one who found Harry and even I lost my temper with the twit. I can only imagine what Severus would have done. Though, if I’m being honest, a part of me wishes you had sent him along, because Williamson would have deserved anything that Severus would have thrown at him.” 

Lily raised her eyebrows, then looked at Harry with concern. 

Harry suddenly found his shoelaces to be very interesting. 

“What did he do, James,” Lily asked, her words as cold and hard as any steel. 

“Why don’t we sit down for this?” James asked, edging around Lily towards the kitchen. “I think we’ll all be happier if we do.” 

Lily sighed, but followed James into the kitchen.

For a moment, Harry glanced at the staircase to his right, overcome with the urge to run up the stairs and be anywhere but present for the conversation that was about to transpire. He was just so tired… 

Then he sighed, remembered that he was a Gryffindor and therefore supposed to be brave, and walked into the kitchen. 

“Ah, there you are Harry. I got you a glass of water and a bowl of grapes for you to snack on,” James said, pointing at the kitchen table. 

Harry felt his face flush as warmth swept through his chest. It hadn’t taken James much more than a minute to grab the snack and drink, but the fact that he had thought of it at all was touching. Harry shoved the thought away for further examination later. For now, he sat down and took a grateful sip of the water. 

“Before we really get into things, I think you ought to look Harry over,” James said. 

Harry’s stomach dropped. 

Lily frowned and turned to face Harry. “What do you mean? Did something happen?” 

Harry shrugged. “James already took care of it—” 

“I ‘took care of it’ with patchwork spells that are only meant to hold up until you can be properly healed with potions,” James said. 

“Where?” Lily demanded. “Where are you hurt?” 

Harry glanced at James, who was staring at him with a level, immutable gaze. Then, with a reluctance he didn’t quite understand, he gestured at his upper arm. He thought he might have some other scrapes and bruises from where he’d rolled around, dodging spells, but none of them particularly hurt so he decided that they didn’t count.

“Take off your shirt, then,” Lily said brusquely, standing up and summoning several potions from elsewhere in the house. 

Harry froze. He glanced from the growing assortment of potions, to James, then back to Lily. None of them seemed as though they would yield. “It really doesn’t hurt,” Harry tried, smiling to back up his words. 

“Harry, I can’t heal you when you’re wearing your shirt,” Lily said. “And I would not be doing my job if I let you walk around with injuries that I could easily heal. Now you haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before, so take off the shirt.” 

“But James just took off my sleeve!” Harry protested. “Why don’t you just do that?” 

Lily pointed her wand at him, and suddenly his shirt was off of his body and folded on the table. 

Harry gasped and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to conceal as much of himself as he could. He hadn’t expected that. His mind began churning then, cataloguing each scar on his body, assessing them for risk of discovery and for degree of suspicion. He carefully tucked his right arm beneath his left, hoping to hide the scar from the basilisk as well as the scar on his hand. 

“Lily,” James said, halfway out of his chair. 

“Yes?” Lily asked. She set her wand down and bustled closer to Harry. 

Harry leaned away from her. 

James finished standing up, but then he paused. 

Harry flicked his eyes from adult to adult, his heart pounding in his ears. 

When James pointed his wand at him, Harry didn’t flinch. He did startle when he realized he was wearing his shirt again. 

“What?” Harry asked, startled. He stared at James in befuddlement. 

“Lily, I know you’re frustrated because you just want to heal him, but you should explain to this Harry why you need his shirt to come off,” James said. 

For a moment, Harry was worried that Lily was going to get mad at James. Her posture was stiff, she had her hands planted her hips, and she was frowning. But then she took in a deep breath and nodded. 

“When healing injuries with topically-applied potions, it’s best practice to purify all the surrounding skin before applying the potion. Some materials leave microfibers behind on the skin and some of them can interact poorly with potions.” 

Harry frowned, trying to remember if this had been something that Madam Pomfrey had done. She hadn’t been much in the habit of explaining why she did things, though, so he wasn’t sure. He sat for a moment longer, but he didn’t see a way out of taking his shirt off, especially since Lily had already proven that she could and would just remove his shirt if she had to. And he didn’t think James would let him get away with just not getting healed... At least it would be just Lily and James who saw— wait. “Where’s Harry?” 

“Ron asked him over, so he’ll probably be spending the night there,” Lily said. 

Harry sighed and nodded. Then, before he could overthink what he was about to do, he pulled off his shirt. 

“Thank you, Harry,” Lily said. 

Harry nodded at the table, refusing to look up. He was hunched down and had his arms wrapped carefully around him, once again doing his best to cover his scars. He shivered a bit when a spell washed over his skin, likely the disinfecting spell that Lily had mentioned. He felt, rather than saw, Lily crouch down next to his chair. 

“I need you to uncross your arms for me,” Lily said. “As soon as I’m done applying the lotion and bandaging the area, you can put your shirt back on, but I need access to your arm.” 

Though he knew it was ridiculous, it almost felt as though the scars he was trying so hard to hide were pulsing, as if they knew discovery was near. He huffed out a breath, trying to clear his mind of the ridiculousness, and slowly lowered his arms. He heard a sharp intake of breath from both Lily and James, but he ignored them. His eyes landed on the grapes in front of him, and he popped another into his mouth. 

Lily swept into motion, then, sorting through the potions on the table. After picking one up off the table, she banished the rest to where they had come from. Then she removed the lid from the jar and scooped out some yellow creme onto her fingers. “This is going to feel a bit cold,” she warned. 

Harry nodded and ate another grape. 

The first touch of the lotion shocked Harry a bit, even with Lily’s warning. But after that it just felt nice. It soothed away a lingering ache he hadn’t realized was there, and the coolness was almost refreshing. 

Lily waved her wand and summoned a roll of bandages. She caught the roll out of the air. “I just need to wrap it up now. The salve needs to stay on your arm for at least the rest of the day. I’ll check on it before you go to bed.”

Harry nodded and reluctantly stretched out his left arm to her. 

Lily rested his hand in the crook of her elbow, then started to wind the bandages around Harry’s arm.

Harry stayed still for several long moments. As she finished up, he started to reach out with his right hand for another grape. 

Lily stuck the end of the bandage to itself, then glanced towards Harry’s bowl of grapes. “I see…” she started to say before trailing off. 

Harry ate his grape, then tilted his head to the side, wondering what she had been going to say. 

Lily wrapped her fingers around his wrist; her eyes were burning, but her grip was gentle. "Harry," she asked, turning his hand so that the vivid red scar was staring up at them, "what is this?"

Harry’s stomach dropped. How could he have forgotten that he needed to hide his hand— he had been so distracted— goddamnit how was he going to explain this . “It’s noth—” 

“Harry,” Lily cut in, “this is a deep and painful scar that seems to be in your own handwriting. That is the farthest thing from nothing that I can think of.” 

“What’s going on?” James asked. 

Harry looked from Lily to James with wide eyes, but Lily remained silent. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. 

James huffed a sigh, then came around the table to stand on the other side of Harry’s chair. 

Harry hunched down, tugging lightly at his wrist in the vain hope that Lily would let go and let him hide it away again. As he suspected, she maintained her grip. 

“Look at this, James,” Lily said, turning Harry’s wrist over so James could get a proper gander. 

James gasped. 

Harry folded in on himself further. 

“What happened ?” Lily asked again. 

“It looks like a scar from a blood quill, but… why were you writing this with one of those for long enough to scar?” James asked. 

Harry huffed and yanked his hand back this time, wrapping his arms around his still-bare torso. “Does it even matter?” Harry asked, plaintive. “It was before I came here, so it’s not like it matters anymore.” 

“Harry… whatever it was left a literal mark on you, and that’s not to mention whatever mark it left on your mind. It may be in the past, but it is far from nothing,” James said. 

“The things that happened in your universe are what made you who you are,” Lily added. “So of course they matter still.” 

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want all the things in his past to matter anymore; he just wanted to forget about it so he could move on. All the things that had left marks on him could not more clearly be in the past. He was free of them now, so there was just no point in talking about them anymore. The only problem was figuring out how to convince Lily and James of that. 

Harry started bouncing his leg under the table and tossed his head to try and clear it. “Really,” he tried to insist, “I just want to forget about it all.” 

Lily and James exchanged a look. Then James moved back around the table to open the pantry. 

“We’re all going to have a conversation over some tea,” Lily said. 

Harry sighed and released his grip around himself. He’d rather never talk about Umbridge, her detentions, or really anything that happened at the end of his school years again. Unfortunately, he was starting to get a feeling that even if he managed to get out of talking about his past this time, and the next time, and the time after that, eventually he’d end up caving. 

“So does the bandage not give off those, uh, microfibers?” Harry asked as we watched James bustle around the kitchen. 

“That’s right,” Lily said. “It’s made from natural fibers specifically selected to be inert.” 

Harry nodded and reached for his shirt. With it back on, he felt as though his feet were on solid ground again. He took a deep breath and steadied himself for the coming confrontation. 

“Shall we take the tea in the sitting room?” James asked. He was holding a platter loaded with all the accoutrements necessary for tea. 

“Let’s,” Lily said, gesturing for Harry to precede her. 

Harry complied, following James into the room. He eyed the seating options, then perched carefully on the end of the couch. 

James set the platter on the coffee table then sat down in the armchair across from Harry. Lily entered the room and sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Harry. A silence fell over the room; not necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but it was a bit awkward. 

To cover his discomfort, Harry reached out and got himself a cuppa from the setup laid out. As he finished, Lily and James got their own tea. Harry stirred his tea and listened to the clink of his spoon hitting the mug. 

“So,” James said. 

Harry scuffed his foot against the rug. 

Lily sighed. 

“Why is this so important?” Harry asked. “None of it even happened in this universe, it’s all over and done with. Can’t we just pretend it didn’t happen at all?” 

“Not talking about it and not thinking about it doesn’t erase the fact that it happened,” Lily said.

“And talking about these things can be cathartic,” James added. 

Harry’s leg started bouncing again of its own accord. He took a sip of his tea, then set the mug down on the coffee table. Then he folded his hands in his lap and stared at the scar on his hand. I must not tell lies. Well. Wasn’t not saying something also a kind of lie? A lie by omission? He looked up from his hands and back over to Lily and James, who were watching him with hopeful eyes. If he told them about this, it would make them happy. And because he was in another universe, there could be no fallout from talking about what had happened. He was safe from any repercussions, and so were Lily and James. 

“Alright,” Harry said. “It is, um, from a blood quill. This past school year, Umbridge was sent by the Ministry to be the defense professor because Dumbledore couldn’t find anyone to do the job. While she was there, she started to grab power for the Ministry. I was saying something she didn’t want to hear, so she gave me detentions where she made me write this,” Harry said, lifting his hand. “That’s it really.” 

Silence fell again, and Harry took another sip of his tea. 

“That’s it ?” Lily said, surging to her feet. She started to pace between the two arm chairs.  

“I knew Umbridge was a depraved bitch, but good god,” James said. 

Harry snorted. “Yeah, you can say that alright.” 

“How the fuck did she get away with that?” Lily spat. “How many times must you have written with that godforsaken quill to get a scar that deep?” She paused in her pacing to stare at Harry. 

“Er— it’s really complicated,” Harry said. He still hadn’t said much about Voldemort and he didn’t want to begin now. That story would lead to too many more questions about things he was nowhere near ready to talk about. “And besides, it’s not like anything can be done now.”

James reached out and put a hand on Lily’s wrist. “He’s right, dear.” 

Lily huffed and collapsed back onto the couch. 

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything, you’re mad now, and there’s nothing you can do about any of it,” Harry said. 

“The point isn’t for us to do something about it,” Lily said. “The point is that we know now and can support you better because of it.” 

“Umbridge does exist here,” James said, suddenly. 

Lily perked up. 

“But she didn’t do this to me,” Harry felt obligated to point out, lifting his hand again. 

“This Umbridge is a bitch too, it just wasn’t ever personal before,” James said. 

Lily sighed. “We should probably swear now not to take action against people for their actions in Harry’s universe. As satisfying as it would be, the morals of it are complicated and not on our side in this case.” 

Harry nodded in agreement. 

James sipped his tea, then nodded, though the movement was reluctant. “I promise, I suppose.” 

“So is that all?” Harry asked. The exhaustion from everything that happened that day, from flying with the other Harry, to apparating away on accident, to his fight with the auror and wait in the Ministry, all the way through to this conversation was beginning to catch up with him, and he just wanted to lie down. 

“Oh you must be so tired,” James said. “You can go.” 

Harry sighed in relief and set his mug back on the tray. Then he stood up and gratefully made his way up to bed.

Chapter Text

Harry collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The tension from his conversation with Lily and James had left a tremor in his hands. He took in a deep, calming breath and released it slowly, then he repeated this process several more times, but the shaking refused to abate. 

His stomach rumbled, filling his ears with the noise, and informing him that he was shaking for reasons unrelated to the tension of the situation. Harry was hungry. 

Harry sat back up and placed his hand on his stomach. He cast his thoughts back over the hellishly long day, trying to remember when last he had last eaten. Lunch? He thought he had had lunch— several action-packed hours ago, before he and the other Harry had begun to fly together. 

Leaning forward, Harry braced his elbows against his knees and immediately regretted this action as a pain lanced through his skin. He flung himself backwards, taking his weight off his hands. He frowned and started to roll up his pants leg. As he folded the material back over the knee, he winced as the material peeled off, revealing his very skinned, very bruised knee. 

Harry sighed and buried his face in his hands as he had been attempting to do when he’d put his elbows on his knees. His thoughts felt sluggish and he was still shaking a bit from just how hungry he was. 

A distant part of his mind noted that it was a damn good thing he wasn’t going back to the Dursleys any time soon— he’d never survive Dudley’s diet now that he was so used to eating well. 

His stomach rumbled again and Harry sat up. His knees hurt and his stomach ached with hunger, but to solve those problems, he’d have to go back downstairs and face Lily and James again, after he’d already had an intense conversation with them. Staring at his scraped knees, Harry had a very strong suspicion that Lily and James would want him to go to them with his problems. 

And they did know he was tired, so they probably wouldn’t press him further…

With a fortifying deep breath, Harry got to his feet and headed for the door, determined to ask for help with his knees and for some food.

The next morning, Harry woke up sore all over from the physical exertion of the previous day. With slow, tentative movements, Harry patted at first his injured shoulder, then his injured knees and discovered that they were back to normal. Harry smiled as a wave of awe at the power of magic washed over him, slid out of bed, and got dressed for the day. 

As he was walking back to the bedroom from the loo, however, he ran into the other Harry. The sight of the other boy brought back all his worries and fears of being set up to get in trouble with James.

“Good morning, Harry,” the other Harry said with a smile and an awkward wave. 

The friendliness threw Harry off kilter, and he didn’t quite know how to react. The silence stretched on for several awkward moments as Harry continued to stare at the other boy. 

“Er— is everything alright?” the other Harry asked.

Harry thought back to that moment when he had become convinced that the other Harry had set him up, then threw caution to the wind. He just had to know. “Did you mean for me to get in trouble with James yesterday?” 

The other Harry was startled, then his face morphed into confusion. “You mean when you dove at the quaffle before apparating away?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I had no idea that would happen, I didn’t even mean to throw it at that steep an angle to the ground! Dad can get a touch intense about my— our— safety while flying, though. His policy is to never practice risky moves where he can see them.” 

Harry rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed and a bit guilty for having misjudged the other boy. “Sorry about that then. A lot happened yesterday.” 

“Oh yeah, you have got to tell me how you ended up accidentally apparating some time, and where you ended up! But for now, I have to use the loo.” 

Harry stepped to the side of the hallway to give the other Harry room to pass. “Oh, right, go ahead.” 

Then Harry went back into his room, still feeling a touch of guilt that he hadn’t trusted the other Harry. He’d been nothing but nice to Harry— even covering for Harry when he had thrown that acorn at James— but the second something went wrong, Harry had lost his faith.

It was just so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when he had a lifetime of expectations built on Dudley’s constant haranguing. Harry sighed and promised himself that he would do his best to trust the other Harry going forward. 

“Are you ready to go, boys?” James called. 

Harry glanced at the chessboard that lay between him and the other Harry and knocked his own king over. He wasn’t in check yet, but he knew just enough about chess to know that it was inevitable. 

“You’ll get better!” the other Harry said encouragingly as he got up from his seat. 

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t gotten much better in the past couple of years I’ve been playing, so I do have my doubts about that.” 

The other Harry placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder as they moved through the hallway. “But there’s a crucial difference between those years of playing and now,” he said. 

Harry rolled his eyes, suspecting what was coming. 

“You never had me to teach you!” 

Harry snorted. “I knew you were going to say that.” 

“Come on, boys, Mother is waiting for us,” James said, gesturing at the fireplace. 

Harry hung back a bit, unwilling to go first and not only display his ineptitude at flooing to everyone, but also have to make small talk alone with— with people like the grandparents he had never met. 

“Alright, I’ll go first,” said the other Harry. “Is the address still the same?” 

James heaved a sigh and glanced at a post-it note stuck to the side of the floo powder jar. “Yes, it’s still the same.” 

The other Harry grimaced, then grabbed a pinch of floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. “Home of the Potters, Proprietors and Inventors of Beloved Haircare Potion, Sleekeasy's.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he looked to Lily with wide eyes, sure that if there was a joke here, she’d be the one to tell him the truth about it. “Is that— real?”

Lily sighed. “Fleamont derives great enjoyment from setting the address to their home. They mail out a notice whenever they change it, and we never know what it’s going to be.” 

“I swear he sets them just to torment me,” James muttered. 

“Er, you should know that I don’t have the best track record while flooing. I have gotten lost before, and I’m not sure I can manage to say that phrase right,” Harry admitted. It was just yesterday that he’d accidentally apparated, so he didn’t want to worry them by disappearing via magical means again so soon. 

Lily and James exchanged a look before James’s eyes flitted over to the post-it on the jar of floo powder. 

“Why don’t you floo with one of us?” Lily asked. “Just to make sure you arrive safely, since the floo address is so ridiculously long.” 

Harry flushed, a little embarrassed by the situation, but nodded anyways. 

“One of us should go through first to expand the fireplace a bit, just in case,” James said. 

“I assume you mean that you will go, given that of the two of us, you are the more talented one at transfiguration.” 

James rolled his eyes. “You are perfectly capable of doing the transfiguration yourself, you just don’t want to be the one who has to be alone with my parents while you do so.” 

Lily smirked and tapped her nose. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” James grumbled. Before tossing the floo powder into the fireplace, James frowned in concentration for a moment, then waved his wand and expanded the size of the fireplace from this end. Then he repeated the same phrase as before and stepped into the emerald green flames. 

Harry was then left alone with Lily and an awkward silence fell over them. The night before, he had gone downstairs for food and something for his knees, and gotten those things from a solitary James. So he hadn’t seen Lily alone since she had stripped him of his shirt, and while he did understand why she had done it, he still felt a bit raw around her. 

“So are we going?” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Lily glanced at her watch, then shook her head. “We need to give James enough time to greet his parents, explain that the transfiguration is necessary, and actually do the transfiguration.”

Harry nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Lily swept one of her hands up the other arm. “I need to apologize for yesterday. I was out of line when I forcibly removed your shirt, and I should not have done that.” 

Harry went very still as he began to try to process Lily’s words. As much as he was coming to believe that Lily— and James, for that matter— cared for him, the fact that Lily would apologize to him for something so trivial was mind boggling. Lily was staring at him, and Harry realized that she was probably waiting for a response. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said. 

“It’s not alright , but I take it you mean that you accept my apology.” 

Harry shrugged and nodded, once again confused by her insistence that what she had done wasn’t an okay thing to do. He’d given her an out, and she hadn’t taken it. 

“I promise I won’t do anything like that again.” 

“Thank you,” Harry said. Then he glanced at the floo powder jar and tilted his head to the side. “If flooing is going to be so difficult, why don’t we just apparate there?” 

“The problem is a combination of how much property the Potters own and the fact that they have ancient anti-apparation wards. If we wanted to apparate there, we’d have to apparate to off of their property lines, and the subsequent walk would be more than excessive.” 

“Oh. Well that explains it.” 

“Why don’t you come here, and we’ll get ready to floo through. James should have had enough time by now.” 

Harry nodded and went to stand next to Lily in front of the fireplace. She grabbed the pinch of floo powder from the jar, then paused. 

“Do you mind if I wrap my arm around you? It’ll make sure we stay together as we travel.” 

“That’s fine,” Harry said, taking another step closer to her. 

Lily wrapped her arm around his shoulders, then dropped the floo powder into the fire and sighed. “Home of the Potters, Proprietors and Inventors of Beloved Haircare Potion, Sleekeasy's.” With that, she walked into the fire, pulling Harry along with her. 

The travel by floo was notably better when accompanied by someone. The nauseating spinning was much reduced, and they were rattling around a lot less in general. Harry wondered how much of these changes were due to being accompanied by another person, and how much of it was due to the other person being Lily specifically. He hoped the changes were thanks to Lily’s actions, because then maybe someday he could learn from her how to make his own floo trips better experiences. 

Then they were being spat out onto a very plush rug. Harry collapsed down underneath Lily’s grasp as he coughed up some soot he’d managed to swallow at the last moment. 

“Oh my, do you need help?” an unfamiliar voice asked. 

Harry shook his head, cleared his throat one more time, then climbed to his feet. And came face to face with his pseudo-grandparents. 

“Hello, Euphemia, it’s lovely to see you again,” Lily said. 

Euphemia went over to hug her, then as soon as she released Lily, she turned to Harry. “And you must be my new grandson!” she said, arms extended for a hug.

At the same moment that Harry found himself opening his arms to receive the hug, Lily reached out to put a quelling hand on Euphemia’s arm as if to stop her. 

Euphemia brushed past this, and then she was hugging him. Harry realized, with some awe, that she was shorter than him. Her arms were very strong and pulled him in close. Harry took a deep breath in and caught a scent of incense, a smell that viscerally reminded him of home. He had to close his eyes against the flood of tears this brought to the surface. Then the moment was over, and she was holding him at arm’s length, looking him over— the same way Marge had held Dudley when she first saw him after a long time, as if to judge how much he’d grown since last she saw him. 

“He reminds me of Remus,” Euphemia declared. 

And a wave of guilt crashed into him. Guilt that it had taken him this long to think about the man, guilt that he hadn’t missed the man at all. Guilt that Harry allowed Remus to be so insignificant. 

James coughed, and Harry realized that James was seated on the other side of the room. 

Looking to James now, Harry asked what he should have asked long ago. “Where is Remus?” 

James looked down and sighed, the sound low and resigned. “Remus is dead. He died a long time ago.” 

Harry stirred his tea, anxiously casting his eyes about the room. After James had dropped that news on Harry, Fleamont had come into the sitting room with the other Harry in tow. Fleamont’s face had sparked with interest when his gaze fell on Harry, and he’d beckoned back through the door he’d just come through. Harry had looked to James, who had nodded in support, so Harry had followed after Fleamont. 

Now they were sitting in silence in what seemed to be Fleamont’s office. 

As Harry’s eyes flitted over Fleamont’s face, the memory of the last— and only— time that he had seen the man came back to him. The memory of that image he’d seen in the Mirror of Erised brought back his observation at the time: that the man shared his knobby knees. 

Harry just had to see if that was true.

He spent the next several minutes trying to discreetly get an angle on the desk so that he could get a good look at Fleamont’s knees. Before he managed to accomplish his goal, however, he noticed that Fleamont was looking at him quizzically. 

“Is there something on my lap?” Fleamont asked, his voice low and gravelly. 

Harry startled a bit, the speech unexpected and shocking. “Oh, no,” he said, then paused. “I—” he shook his head— “I was wondering if we have the same knees.” 

“The same… knees?” 

Harry nodded, fixing his gaze on his cup of tea. He heard Fleamont shifting around in his chair, then the sound of the chair scraping along the ground. He looked up to see Fleamont sitting next to him with the material of his pant leg pulled up past the knee. 

“Let’s find out!” 

Harry met Fleamont’s eyes for a moment, taking in the earnestness he found there, then reached down and started pulling on his pants leg. Once Harry had rolled up the material, he lined his knee up with Fleamont’s knee. And, for the first time in his life, he was able to compare his knobby knees to those of a living, blood relative.

And as he stared at their aligned, knobby knees, Harry felt a sense of connection to this old man unlike anything else he had felt before. 

Sure, he’d seen ample evidence of his relationship to Lily and James— and a significant amount more of his relationship to the other Harry, but he’d already heard about his green eyes and his similarity to James so much that the novelty had long since worn off, even before he had set foot in this universe. This was new, this was different, and Harry felt his throat tighten around all the emotions swirling around in his chest. 

“You know, I must say that I never thought of knobby knees as being particularly heritable, but here we are!” Fleamont exclaimed. 

Harry choked out a laugh and nodded. 

Fleamont rolled down his pants leg, clasped Harry on the shoulder, then moved his chair back around his desk. 

“This is the point where politeness dictates that we ought to engage in some small talk,” Fleamont said, taking a sip of his tea. 

Harry stirred his tea and cast his eyes about for a topic of conversation. “This is some delicious tea.” 

Fleamont smiled. “Why thank you, it’s an old family blend that my Auntie sends me every year. To me, it is the taste of home.” 

The emotion in Harry’s chest curled even tighter, and he realized that he was feeling a keen sense of loss. There was so much more to his family than he had ever known, he had missed out on so much— He squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them, shoving the poignant feelings away to deal with them later, when he wasn’t supposed to be making small talk with the grandfather he had never known. 

“Then home must taste great,” Harry said. 

Fleamont hummed and nodded in agreement. The moment lingered before either of them spoke again.

“So tell me, Harry, do you like Potions?” 

Harry blanched, the phrase, ‘Proprietors and Inventors of Beloved Haircare Potion’ blazing through his mind. His grandfather was a potioneer. “Er—” 

“Oh, really?” Fleamont asked, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve found that Marlene has done an excellent job of reaching the next generation, but perhaps you just don’t like the subject?” 

Harry tilted his head in confusion, wondering how much Fleamont knew about where he came from. 

“I take it from your confused expression that Marlene is not the potions professor in your universe?” 

“Er, no,” Harry said. He was about to add that he didn’t know who she was, but then he remembered Moody telling him about the members of the Order of the Phoenix. “Do you mean Marlene McKinnon?” 

“That would be her, yes.” 

“Yeah, she’s not the potions professor,” Harry said. “The one in my world was a terrible teacher, he made most of us hate the subject.” 

Fleamont pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh Merlin, that must be a terrible world indeed. Perhaps, if you have the time, you and I could dabble in the laboratory. I could show you what Potions is truly meant to be.” 

Harry tightened his grip on his teacup and hunched his shoulders. “I’m really not good at potions, though.” 

Fleamont waved his hand through the air. “That hardly matters, the point would be for you to learn. I would not expect you to be perfect!” 

Harry hesitated. 

“Ah well, think on it. The offer stands should you ever decide to join me, I would love to have you.” 

There was a knock at the study door and Fleamont called out for them to come in. Lily came through and leaned on the door jam. Fleamont started to get to his feet when he saw her, so Harry followed suit. 

“I take it supper is about ready?” Fleamont asked.

“It is,” Lily agreed, stepping out of the doorway and gesturing for them to go past. “I came to make sure the two of you were alright, and of course, to fetch you for dinner.” 

Fleamont looked at Harry but stayed silent. A moment later, Harry realized that he was waiting for Harry to respond. 

“We’re good,” Harry said. 

“I was just telling Harry that he has an open invitation to join me in my lab should he ever experience the urge to do so.” 

Harry flushed but nodded. 

“That’s a generous offer,” Lily said. 

“It is nothing for my grandson.”

Somehow Harry flushed even deeper, and he could feel the echoes of the feelings he’d shoved away earlier rattling in the distance. He shoved the feelings away yet again. 

“So, uh, what’s for dinner?” he asked. 

“I believe Euphemia decided to make aloo paratha,” Lily said, then looked at Harry expectantly. 

“That, uh, sounds good?” he said uncertainly.  The truth was that he’d never tried aloo paratha— or even heard of it before. Part of growing up with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon was that he’d been kept away from every bit of his cultural heritage. If he had dared to show interest in anything that could be considered ‘ethnic’... well the aftermath didn’t bear thinking about. 

“Have… have you not tried aloo paratha?” Lily asked. 

For a split second, Harry considered trying to bluff and say that he had, since they seemed so shocked by his hesitance. Then he thought better of it and shook his head slowly. “I don’t actually— I don’t know what it is.” 

“Not to worry, young lad,” Fleamont said, clasping Harry on the shoulder, “you’ll try some tonight and then you’ll know exactly what it is.” 

“And for now, I can tell you that aloo paratha is potato stuffed flatbread,” Lily said. 

Fleamont squeezed Harry’s shoulder again, then let go. “It’s quite the favorite around here.” 

They had just walked into the dining room where Euphemia, James, and the other Harry were already sitting at the set table. It was as he crossed the threshold of the room that Harry could smell the meal, and he was relieved to find that it smelled delicious. Without hesitating, Lily and Fleamont made for their seats at the table. Euphemia was seated at one end of the table, and Fleamont went to take a seat at the other end of the table. Between them on one side was James, and Lily went to take the seat next to him. That left the seat on the end of the table next to Fleamont and across from Lily open, which Harry went to take.

As he sat down, the food in the middle of the table began to serve itself. Harry watched the food float through the air with wide eyes, still somehow struck by the wonder of magic. 

Fleamont cleared his throat as he tore off a piece of the flatbread. “Does anyone have something they’re looking forward to?” 

Harry watched Fleamont eat as discreetly as he could so he would know what to do. 

The other Harry swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, Ron and I have been putting together a prank on the twins for ages, and we’re planning to execute it next weekend.” 

Harry determinedly did not picture the Ron and twins from his universe as he tore off a piece of his own paratha and dipped it into the yogurt mix. It was absolutely delicious and a spike of anger drove through his body. This was just another thing that had been kept from him his entire life. He took another bite and breathed through the anger, then shoved the emotion away to be dealt with later. 

“And do you have a plan for weathering their retaliation?” Euphemia asked. 

“Of course not,” the other Harry said. 

“That doesn’t sound very wise,” Lily said. 

“In his defense,” Harry found himself saying, “if they’re anything like the twins I knew, trying to plan for their retaliation is like trying to plan for an earthquake. They’re just too unpredictable.” 

The other Harry elbowed him gently in the side. “See? He gets it,” he said. “Also, all our planning energy went into the prank itself, so we’re just gonna go with the flow.” 

Harry mock saluted the other Harry as Lily turned to ask Fleamont about his latest experiments. The rest of the dinner was spent in casual, lighthearted conversation that ebbed and flowed around the table. It was all so warm and comfortable— like home. It was everything that Harry would never have dared to dream of, back in the cupboard under the stairs. It was an ephemeral moment that Harry wanted to wrap up and store away, to bask in its warmth for all eternity. 

Chapter Text

After they got back from dinner, Harry made a beeline for the bedroom. All the emotions he’d shoved down, back, and away were begging to be let loose. He needed to get to solitude before he imploded— or worse, exploded on everyone around— from the weight of it all.

Harry paced around the bedroom for several long moments, not really thinking of anything in particular, just getting used to being alone again. The day had been long and filled with interactions— chess with the other Harry, meeting his grandparents, dinner with everybody.

Harry sighed and collapsed onto the bed, on top of the covers. Today had just been… so much . 

He, Harry James Potter, had an extended family. He had grandparents. Living, breathing grandparents that wanted to know him. He could touch them— not only that, but they’d hugged him freely. If he thought back to it, he could feel the warmth of their arms wrapped around him still. 

However, that warm memory of being held led to thoughts of the other interactions he had had with the elder Potters. 

Fleamont wanted Harry to shadow him in the lab, despite Harry’s attempts to tell Fleamont that he was worse than useless at potions. Harry just couldn’t imagine why someone who clearly must be amazing at potions would ever want him anywhere near their work. 

Well, he could think of one reason— but Fleamont seemed so nice that Harry didn’t really think that Fleamont would invite him just to set him up for failure. 

Thinking back on the way Fleamont had invited him without forcing the issue, Harry felt as secure as he could be that the offer had been genuine. But just because the offer had been genuine didn’t mean that Harry felt in any way comfortable accepting it. Even if Fleamont wasn’t trying to set him up for failure, Harry was more than capable of failing all on his own. 

Harry sighed and dragged himself into a seated position, then off the bed entirely. If he was going to mope in bed, he may as well get into pajamas first. 

Once he was dressed and in bed again, it wasn’t long before another thought he had repressed earlier came back to him. He slapped his hands over his face and groaned as a wave of pure guilt swept over him. Professor Lupin was dead here.

Harry should have known that something was wrong when Professor Lupin failed to show up for any of the family events that were thrown. Especially when nobody ever mentioned missing him or playfully mocked him for being too busy for them— it had always been as though he didn’t exist. And there were only two reasons that Harry could think of: betrayal or death. 

He knew this, it was so easy to figure out, and yet he had never thought to ask which it was. 

With a sigh, Harry lowered his hands off of his face. Even if he had asked, all it would have changed was when he found out. It wouldn’t have brought Professor Lupin back or given him more closure. But Merlin, it was hard to remember that when his last memory of Professor Lupin was of him trying desperately to hold onto Harry. 

But that never would have happened in this world— without Voldemort, Harry would never have been in the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius would never have fallen through the veil, so Professor Lupin wouldn’t have needed to stop him from jumping through. So it was that Harry found himself wondering what his last moment with Professor Lupin would have been if he’d been born to this world. 

Except Harry didn’t actually know anything about how Professor Lupin had died here, or when, or anything else really. 

Harry decided that he would have to ask Lily or James about what had happened tomorrow, he owed it to the Professor Lupin of his world to find out. His eyes widened as he thought of something else he needed to ask about: Peter Pettigrew. Without Voldemort, he would have had nobody to betray Lily and James to and no reason to betray them in the first place. 

And yet he was also never spoken of by anyone that Harry had met. Did that mean that he too had died? Or that he had found some other way to be a traitorous rat that had had nothing at all to do with Voldemort? 

Something else to ask about tomorrow. 

Harry tossed his arm over his eyes and huffed out a breath. It seemed like all the thoughts and feelings that he had suppressed throughout the day were determined to come out now. 

Like the memory of his conversation with Lily, for example. Harry could hardly believe that that had happened, that she had really taken the time to apologize to him for something that hadn’t even mattered. 

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that she had done that for him. It was like every time he tried, he ended up picturing Petunia in the same situation, and the thought of Petunia apologizing simply did not make sense. 

This was turning out to be yet more evidence that the Potters were nothing at all like the Dursleys, evidence that Harry would keep close to his chest for when he needed the reminder. And he would need the reminder eventually, this whole ‘being a part of a family’ thing was still so new to him that it was so easy for him to forget. 

Although, Harry thought as his gaze drifted down to his knees, he had a tangible reminder now of his connection to his family. He could just look down at his knees and be reminded that he belonged. 

This side of his family had never been real to him for a lot of reasons— if only because they had all been dead long before he’d had the chance to meet them. That’s what he always told himself, of course, except for on the darker days when he thought that they were alive, they just hadn’t ever wanted to see him. 

Now he was convinced that Fleamont and Euphemia would not have stayed away if they had been alive. But Merlin, he wished that they had still been alive. He’d felt so out of place at dinner, even Lily had known more about his own culture than he had. And that had just been one casual dinner in a small setting— he couldn’t begin to imagine how he would feel at a larger family gathering, especially if others expected him to be like the Harry of this universe. 

His counterpart here had been raised whole— not missing any part of his heritage. He’d grown up around magic and his culture, surrounded by family that just wanted him to be himself. 

The other Harry had always had everything that Harry had never dreamed of because he’d never even known it was possible. Seeing the things that this Harry had grown up surrounded by left Harry with a gnawing pit in his stomach and a certainty that whatever he had pictured for himself in his fantasies, the reality that this Harry had was far better.

The longer Harry dwelled on the sheer unfairness of it all, the angrier about it all he felt. The Harry of this universe had so bloody much, absolutely everything that Harry had ever dreamed of, and everything he had never dared to dream of. All these things he had, and yet— 

Harry shook his head, cutting the thought off. 

And yet he wasn’t… he wasn’t doing anything incredible. He was just a boy.  

Harry bolted upright in bed and tossed the covers off himself, stood up, and began to pace around the room, still boiling over with fury. He was too incandescent with rage to form a coherent thought, but as he passed by a specific drawer, he was struck by an impulse too powerful to resist. 

Yanking the drawer open with more force than necessary, Harry reached underneath some new sweaters and pulled out his invisibility cloak. With a practiced spin and flick of his wrists, Harry covered himself with the cloak. He snuck out of the house with ease; all the other Potters were in their rooms, with no reason to be suspicious. 

The cool night air hit Harry in the face, finally dimming some of the rage in his chest. He picked a direction at random, and began to walk, still filled with enough fury to be striding along much faster than normal. 

This was the neighborhood that he would have grown up in. These houses should have been eminently familiar to him. He should remember when that young tree was planted. He should have memories of Lily and James ( mum and dad ) discussing the unsightly addition to that house. 

With each subsequent thought, the fire in Harry’s chest stoked up higher and higher, and he was walking, then running, faster and faster, until he was dashing down the street at a headlong sprint. 

Harry didn’t stop running until he stumbled upon the neighborhood playground. It was empty now, in the night, but the nearby street lamps lit it up well enough. His gaze fell on the swingset, and Harry walked toward it, the echo of all the times he had done this at the Magnolia Crescent playground overlaying each step he took. 

As he sat down on the swing, he finally felt drained of all the anger he had felt before. It wasn’t gone— he could still feel it, deep inside, but it had lost the edge to its teeth. He could swing in this deserted park and just think without being filled with blind rage now. 

With the distance from it all that he had now, he could see that his anger was useless. There was no target, nothing for him to direct his anger at. The only ones to blame for this situation were Voldemort for creating the hell that had been Harry’s life up till now, and Harry himself for jumping through the veil and enabling himself to discover all that could have been. 

Voldemort was, apparently, no longer accessible. And while he supposed he could blame himself, well. His time here, though extraordinarily painful on occasion, had also been some of the best days of his life. His fall through the veil had been the epitome of a double-edged sword.   

Harry didn’t know if he would ever come to terms with all of the ramifications of his jaunt through the veil.

Harry sighed and let his swing come to a gradual stop. He was beginning to feel drained from the sheer amount of things he’d felt today and from his headlong sprint on top of that. And he still had to get back before he could properly rest. So with another gusty sigh, Harry checked to make sure he was fully covered by the invisibility cloak and began the trek back.

“Good morning, Harry,” James said, raising his coffee mug in salutation. 

“Morning, James,” Harry said with a smile in return. He spotted breakfast laid out on the counter and went to load himself up a plate. “I thought you didn’t do big breakfasts during the week?” 

James shrugged. “I woke up earlier than usual today, so I thought I might as well.” 

Harry nodded and went to sit down at the table with James. It was just the two of them, and as they sat there together, Harry realized that this was a good opportunity to finally do what he should have from the beginning— ask about the people he had known in his own world. 

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Harry asked. 

“You can absolutely ask,” James said, “but I can’t guarantee that I will know the answer.” 

Harry nodded, and as he did so, his mind began to race with possible questions he could ask. He thought of seeing Ron and Hermione at the train station and decided to start there. “What are Ron and Hermione like?” 

James hummed a low note. “You know, Harry would be much better equipped to tackle this.”

Harry’s heart sank, and he looked down at his plate of food. 

“That’s not to say I won’t answer, just that you might want to ask him for more detail. So, Ron and Hermione. They’re Harry’s partners in crime. Ron and Harry have been friends since they met at Quidditch Little League when they were very little. Then they met Hermione at Hogwarts, and that was quite the explosive relationship at first! Ron went through quite the pulling her pigtails phase until she taught him the error of his ways.” James stopped, then looked a bit wistful. “He was a much better learner than I ever was.” 

“Wait,” Harry said, “Ron and Hermione are dating ?” 

“Oh yes, since halfway through the last school year I think.” 

Harry scratched at his head, thinking back to the interactions between them that he’d seen in his own world, wondering if that same seed had been there. He just couldn’t tell— they’d always just been friends, the three of them. He shook his head, deciding it was more important to get out all his questions. 

“And what about the rest of the Weasleys?” 

“I don’t have all morning, so I’ll run through them quickly. Arthur is the head of his department at the Ministry. Molly is still at home with the children and running quite the successful home based knit good shop out of their house. Bill is employed by Gringotts, no idea where he is currently. Charlie is traveling the world with Hagrid, studying dragons from around the globe. Percy is— I think he has a Ministry job? I’m not wholly sure what he’s doing. The twins are secretly planning to open a joke shop, which I am absolutely not funding in secret. And Ginny is, of course, still in school.” 

Harry nodded, taking all of that in. He didn’t think Molly had a shop in his world, he’d been the one to fund the twins, and Charlie had been in Romania— but other than that, things sounded more or less the same here for the Weasleys. “What about Peter Pettigrew?” He thought about asking about Professor Lupin too, but decided that would probably be too much to ask of James. 

“Peter… he was a childhood, well, friend feels like a strong word now. But at the time he was an integral part of our group. I don’t know where he is now or what happened to him, and frankly I do not care.” 

Harry nodded, glad that he wouldn’t be forced to play nice with the man that had resurrected Voldemort and led to his parents dying. 

“If you know about Peter, then I’m sure you’re also curious about Remus.” 

Harry nodded. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about him, though.” 

James shook his head. “No it’s fine, you deserve to know. After we all graduated Hogwarts, Remus decided to travel the world in search of better research and more acceptance for— you know he was a werewolf, right?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Well. He was looking for that, apparating around the world, when he was given poor apparition coordinates. He splinched and… that was it.” 

Harry was shocked by the… the pointlessness of it. A tragic accident that should never have happened. He wanted to express disbelief, to reject what James had said, but the words were too simple, too clear, to leave room for mendacity. 

James cleared his throat and looked away. A moment later he resumed eye contact with Harry. “You might also be interested to know that Alice is in Charms development, and that Frank stays at home with Neville during the summers and during the school year, he tends to the family business and greenhouses.” 

Harry nodded, glad to know that Neville would also have had a better childhood in this world. He hoped nobody had tried to force the magic out of him here. “Um, what about Bellatrix?” 

James’s demeanor grew darker at the mention of Bellatrix. “She—” he stopped, then took a deep breath. “She is the snitch that I just cannot catch, if the snitch were a despicable excuse for a human. The people she’s killed, the lives she’s ruined, the destruction she’s wrought,” he shook his head. 

Harry blanched. “Is she a Dark… Lord? Lady?” 

“No! No, heavens no. She works alone, seems to think that there is nobody left who is pure enough to stand with her. On the bright side, her stance has offended just about everyone imaginable, so each time she does pop up again, someone is reasonably quick to shoot her back down again. Unfortunately she seems to have the survival skills of a cockroach.” 

“Has she ever been bit hit by a killing curse?” Harry couldn’t resist asking. 

James frowned, his face contorted in confusion. “Obviously not, she’d be dead if she had been.” 

Harry smiled and forced a small laugh. “True,” he said. Then he racked his mind for what he wanted to ask next. He truly wanted to ask about Voldemort or maybe Dumbledore, but James still seemed a bit worked up. “So Hagrid isn’t a professor here?” he asked instead. 

“Not really no,” James said. “He’s more of a traveling scholar here, going around the world compiling knowledge and information about dragons. Occasionally he’ll give a guest lecture to the upper years at Hogwarts, but for the most part, he could be anywhere at any time.” 

Harry smiled, glad to hear that Hagrid was doing so well for himself. He assumed that since James didn’t seem at all surprised to hear that Hagrid had been a professor in his universe, and because Hagrid was so involved in research and learning, that he hadn’t been forced to drop out here. 

Which meant that Voldemort must have been turned from his dark path very, very early on! 

“You know that reminds me of the year just before Harry started school. One might have thought that both Hagrid and Newt Scamander were part time professors with how often they were at Hogwarts giving guest lectures. Marlene told us all about their jockeying for Charlie to apprentice under them. Of course, Charlie ultimately chose to work with Hagrid.” 

“I’ll bet they’re a good match,” Harry said. 

“So I’ve heard,” James said, then looked at his watch. “I’m running a bit low on time, so maybe just two more questions.” 

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. He didn’t know how much information he would get, but he just had to ask. “How is Professor Dumbledore?” 

James smiled. “Oh she’s doing quite well! I haven’t heard much about her recently, but what I have heard has been good.” 

Harry froze, his thoughts becoming static. What? That’s… Harry blinked and shook his head. This… this must be one of the differences between their worlds. Right? 

“So what’s your last question before I have to head out?” 

Harry was torn in two— the desire to ask about Dumbledore and the desire to ask about Voldemort warring within him. In the end it was an easy choice; as riveted as Harry was by this potential difference, it was far more important for him to know what was going on with Voldemort. “And how about Vold— I mean, Tom Riddle?” 

“Well, I have heard about him recently, and it was an interview in which he was requesting yet again that people refer to him as his chosen name, Thomas Dumbledore.”

Chapter Text

Tonks got up from their desk, flicking their eyes over it to check one last time for anything they might have forgotten to grab. 

“Ready to go?” Sue asked, coming to a stop besides Tonks. 

Tonks hummed noncommittally, then decided that anything that they had left behind could be dealt with tomorrow. “Let’s head out,” they said, slipping their hand into Sue’s. The two of them began to walk towards the fireplaces. Tonks had long been of the opinion that, as Unspeakables, they ought to have a fireplace more convenient to their workplace. They opened their mouth to say so. 

“You know they’re not going to change anything about the fireplaces,” Sue said, a smile playing on her lips. 

Tonks swung out their elbow to dig into Sue’s flank. “You know it’s rude to legilimize me like that.” Then they winced as Sue elbowed them right back. 

“You’re as transparent as a paper-thin sheet of glass. And you complain about this at least weekly.” 

Tonks squinted and thought back, sure that that had to be an exaggeration. The last time they had complained about it must have been when they had both floo’d to Potter Cottage to meet with the new Harry. That must have been more than a week ago… They proceeded to tell Sue just that. 

“Tonks, sweetie, that was just before the weekend, so about three days.” 

Tonks looked askance at Sue, then started to count the days back on their fingers. They were  holding up three fingers at the conclusion. “This right here,” they said in horror, “is why I refuse to go anywhere near the time department. That’s the real dark magic.” 

Sue patted them on the back. 

“Wait, that means we’ve got tea with my mother today,” Tonks said. 

Sue sighed with an audible huff. “Welcome to the present, my dear.” 

Tonks scrubbed at their face. “Well, we’d better get home so we can change and clean up.” 

Tonks buttoned up their shirt, then surveyed their appearance in the mirror. They were still rocking the bubblegum pink hair they favored, with some of their features cherry picked from random strangers they’d seen in the street throughout the weekend. With a sigh, Tonks concentrated and returned their face to more or less their base form— albeit with the bubblegum pink hair still a shock on top of their head. 

“Aw, I liked that nose,” Sue said, coming into the room. 

“Right?” Tonks agreed. “But I honestly don’t want to deal with it. Like I know she’ll do her best to be fine about it, but why test her if I don’t have to?” 

Sue came over to stand directly behind them, placing a hand on their shoulder. Tonks met her eyes in the mirror. 

“You know I’ll support you no matter what face you wear, right?” 

Tonks blinked slowly. She nodded. “I know, and that means— it means a lot, as you know. But as wonderful as my mother is, she’s easier to handle when I look a certain way.” 

Sue nodded and stepped away to get herself ready to go. 

Tonks gave her a jaunty little wave as they strode out of the room. They headed into the kitchen where they needed to take some muffins out of the oven. They knew that their mother would certainly have already made baked goods for tea, but Tonks had been taught by their mother to never arrive empty handed. And so, they had made muffins as soon as they had arrived at home. 

As they rustled around for where they had tossed the oven mitts last time, they shifted aside the growing stack of neglected newspapers. Tonks sighed, snatched the oven mitt that had fallen behind the pile, then stared at the newspapers regretfully. Andromeda would know each newspaper in that stack from cover to cover and she would certainly want to talk about them. 

The oven timer went off again, distracting them from that line of thought. Tonks hurried over to the oven and pulled out the muffins, releasing a flood of steam into the kitchen. Tonks breathed it in, then set the muffins down to cool by the open window. 

With a put-upon sigh, Tonks settled into a seat at the kitchen table with the stack of newspapers. They fished through it for a moment, not really looking for anything in particular. They just needed one story that they could skim for conversation fodder. There was some piece on the upcoming legislature that the Wizengamot would be voting on, and Tonks reluctantly pulled the paper it was in from the pile for closer reading. Though it was likely to be dull, it was the kind of thing that would impress their mother. 

The rest of the time before they had to depart for tea passed in a rush between newspaper reading, muffin preparation, and general prep for an outing. Before they knew it, Tonks was standing at the floo, a tin of muffins in one hand and a pinch of floo powder in the other. 

They threw the floo powder into the fireplace, then stepped through. As they landed, they were immediately swept up into their mother’s arms. 

“Nymphadora, my dear, you are right on time,” Andromeda said. 

Tonks rolled their eyes at the name, but was prevented from responding by the flash of the floo that heralded Sue’s arrival. 

 Andromeda released the hug and turned to greet Sue. 

“Sousaphone, how are you doing?” 

Tonks grinned as Sue winced at the full form of their name. 

“I’m doing alright,” Sue said, “though, as always, I do wish you would call me Sue.” 

Andromeda patted Sue on the cheek, then turned to pat Tonks on the cheek as well. “You both know how lovely I find your names to be, and I shan’t sully them by neglecting them.” 

Tonks rolled their eyes again, then held up the tin of muffins. “Where should I put these?” 

“Oh, Nymphadora, you shouldn’t have,” Andromeda said, taking the tin. She started to stride out of the room towards the formal living room where she set the tin on the small table with all the other refreshments for tea. “Please, take a seat.” She gestured at the arm chairs and available couch. 

Sue went to take a seat on the couch, relaxing back into the soft embrace of the cushions. 

Tonks took a seat next to her— or rather, practically on top of her. There was ample room on the couch, but Tonks saw no reason to let that get between them and their closeness to their partner. With a satisfied smile, Tonks glanced over at their mother. Were mother any less polite, she would certainly have rolled her eyes. As it stood, Tonks could see the obvious signs of exasperation in her demeanor. 

The woman was entirely too much fun to mess with. 

“Is anyone else joining us this afternoon?” Tonks asked. 

“Euphemia ought to be arriving soon, but just her.” 

Tonks sat up a bit straighter, earning an elbow to the ribs for shifting more of their weight onto Sue. Tonks elbowed back as she smiled. Perhaps Euphemia would have more information about the new Harry Potter— a mystery Tonks was dying to know more about. 

Sue poked them in the back and leaned forward to whisper in their ear. “Be careful, I used my real name when speaking to Harry— if you’re too obvious it might spread that I’m one of the Unspeakables involved in the Harry phenomenon.” 

Tonks took in a deep breath, nodded, then forced themself to relax back into the couch. 

Thankfully, Andromeda had been distracted by Tonks’s dad coming into the room. 

“Hey dad,” Tonks said, waving from the couch. 

“Hiya, pumpkin,” he said, coming over to ruffle their hair. “How’s your day been?” 

“You know that’s classified,” Tonks said with a grin. 

Sue snorted. “That never gets old.” 

Ted grinned and leaned over to ruffle Sue’s hair too. “Damn right it doesn’t.” 

The room was filled with the sound of the floo chime, signaling the arrival of Euphemia. Tonks could feel anticipation swell within their chest again, which they quickly did their best to stifle. Sue was right, they needed to be subtle and casual about their interest, or else put their loved ones’ memories at risk. 

Andromeda departed to greet Euphemia, leaving Tonks, Sue, and Ted alone in the living room. 

“Going to flee now, then?” Tonks asked with a smirk. 

“Absolutely,” Ted said. “I have a legitimate excuse this time too, I’m going to play cards with the boys.” 

“Have fun!” Tonks said with a jaunty wave. 

They twisted around on the couch to wave as their dad beat a hasty retreat out the front door. They’d have to convince him to bring them with him some time. Tonks was startled into a less contorted position by the weight of Sue’s head resting on their shoulder. It was a nice, grounding weight, and just what they needed in the moment. Tonks tucked their hand into Sue’s in thanks. 

“Where shall I put these biscuits?” Euphemia asked. 

“Oh right over here with the others would be lovely,” Andromeda replied. 

With a last squeeze of their hand, Sue sat up in her seat, as most were wont to do in the presence of two such ladies. 

Tonks deliberately slouched over further with a self-satisfied smile. 

“So how have the two of you been?” Euphemia asked, taking her seat in an armchair across from them.

“We’ve been perfectly alright,” Tonks responded with a slight smile. “Work has been as interesting as ever—” 

“But of course if we told you more, we’d have to wipe your memory,” Tonks and Sue said in unison. 

Andromeda sent a baleful look at them, then addressed Euphemia. “You’ll have to forgive them for their little joke, they make it every chance they get.” 

Euphemia smiled. “I do know all about that joke, James cracks it at least once a month about his classified work. You know, I used to have my own classified work, back in the day.” 

Tonks had never heard of Euphemia’s younger life and was thus immediately curious. They sat up and demanded to know more. 

Sue nudged them in the side as Euphemia responded. 

“It was absolutely titillating, but unfortunately, were I to tell you more, I would have to wipe your memories,” Euphemia said with an air of absolute smugness about her. 

Tonks groaned and slumped back down next to Sue. “I suppose we did deserve that.” 

“Now that we’ve all been ‘razzed’, as the kids say, shall we have tea?” Andromeda asked. 

Tonks got to their feet and made a beeline for the table of refreshments and began to serve themself. 

“That’s the spirit,” Euphemia said, joining Tonks at the refreshments. 

As they all gathered their snacks and returned to their seats, Tonks took in a breath to steady themself, then turned to Euphemia. “How has your week been? Anything exciting since the weekend?” 

Sue nudged Tonks in the side with her elbow, a move that Tonks blissfully ignored. They could tell that Sue thought they were being too obvious with the question, but they’d never find anything out unless they asked. 

“Besides today’s newspaper?” Euphemia asked rhetorically. “I had my son and his family over for dinner last night. Being from the Department of Mysteries, I am quite sure you are already aware of this, Tonks and Sue, but Andromeda, did you know that they have another son now?” 

Tonks nodded because there was little point in pretending that they did not know about the new Harry’s existence, not when they wanted Euphemia to talk about Harry beyond the fact that he was a dimensional traveler. 

Andromeda shifted in her seat, raising one delicate eyebrow. “Lily is pregnant again?”

Euphemia smiled and shook her head. “Indeed she is not. I will simply tell you because there is very little chance that you could guess the truth of the situation. Lily and James have taken in a boy from another dimension. In many ways, he is much like my birth grandson, but in others he could not be more different.” 

Andromeda set down her tea. 

Tonks nodded to lend their support to what Euphemia had said. 

“You swear that you are not pulling my leg?” Andromeda asked. 

“I would be willing to swear any vow you like. That is the whole truth as I know it.” 

“She’s telling the truth,” Sue said. “I can’t give you more specifics, but it is an undeniable fact that the new Harry Potter was not born in this universe.” 

Andromeda took a slow sip of her tea. “That is a truly remarkable occurrence. So what was this new Harry like?” 

Tonks leaned forward in their seat, curious to learn what Euphemia had thought. 

Euphemia exhaled forcefully, then took a sip of her tea. “He had the oldest eyes I have ever seen in a boy so young. The closest comparison I can make is to Remus Lupin, but even his demeanor had the glint of a prankster lightening it. Had my son not already taken him in, I would have felt compelled to do so myself.” 

Tonks nodded, then stopped when Sue placed a hand on their arm. 

“Did he say anything interesting?” Sue asked. 

Euphemia sent them a knowing look before answering. “The fact that Remus is dead came as a shock to Harry, from which we can infer that Remus is alive in his world. Other than that, I did not get to spend much individual time with him, and sharing more of my personal observations would feel like a breach of trust.” 

“That is quite understandable,” Andromeda said. “It is interesting to imagine a world in which Remus is still alive. Though it must have come at some cost, since this Harry has eyes that are so very old.” 

Euphemia nodded, her expression grave. 

Silence lingered as they all sat and sipped at their tea. Tonks began to wrack their brain for something to say to break up the silence, but all they could think of were questions that would reveal too much of what they knew.

“So did everyone see the paper today?” Sue asked, saving them all from the pain of awkward silence, but dooming Tonks in the process. 

Plastering a smile on their face, Tonks responded. “I did! The old hags on the Wizengamot sure are at it again.” 

All three of the other people in the room turned to look at Tonks, and in that moment, Tonks knew they had fucked up. 

“It’s alright if you didn’t read the whole paper, sweetie,” Sue said, rubbing their shoulders. 

Tonks subtly rolled their eyes. “I admit that I did not have the time today.” 

Sue nudged Tonks in the arm, then began to speak. “This article was quite a lot, so get ready for a bit of a ride. As you know, there are portions of the general public that have not been so receptive to Ariana and her request to be called such.” 

Tonks grit their teeth and nodded, the reminder of the existence of the bigoted factions of society always set them on edge.

“What we didn’t know is that Tom— sorry, Thomas, is not only incredibly supportive, but also had some other things going on. Apparently, back when he and Ariana got married, he had decided to keep his name in the hopes that he would be able to convince his paternal grandparents to include him in their inheritance. Since then, his grandfather disinherited him and severed ties between them completely, removing any reason he may have had to keep the name.

“Between that, the fact that some people refuse to call Ariana by her name, and the fact that the entire Wizarding World wants the good opinion of Thomas, Thomas came up with a brilliant plan to force everyone to respect his wife’s identity and name. He has legally changed his name from Tom Riddle to Thomas Dumbledore— thus forcing everyone to respect his wife by removing any excuses may have had for not using the correct name and pronouns for her. He even said in the article that he had thought about changing his pronouns as well, but that it hadn’t felt right when he’d asked his family to try it out.” 

Tonks’s mouth dropped, and they looked from person to person, searching for any sign of deceit or japery. The three faces arrayed in front of them could not be more earnest. “So… he’s Thomas Dumbledore then?” 

“That is correct,” Andromeda said. 

“Huh.” Tonks said, leaning back. “Well, good for him, I say. The way the papers have been treating Ariana has been abominable— which I’m sure the article didn’t mention.” 

“Of course not,” Euphemia said with a scoff. “Their inconsiderate and downright bigoted behavior, as always, makes me long for the ability to just purchase the company and force them to be good journalists.” She sighed wistfully. “Perhaps this new dimension traveler will be the one to bring enough wealth into the family to make that possible,” she said jokingly.

Tonks laughed. “But back to the subject at hand, I had no idea that Tom— Thomas , had a paternal family. I don’t think he mentioned them once while we were at Hogwarts.”

Sue nodded in agreement. 

Euphemia hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I ought to ask my sister, Eurypides, if she remembers him mentioning anything while at school.” 

“Oh did she go to school at the same time as Thomas then?” Tonks asked. 

“Almost,” Euphemia said, “She was halfway between Ariana and Thomas, so she would have been a third year when he started at Hogwarts.” 

“You know, given the way people talked when they started dating, one would have thought that they had a much bigger age difference between them,” Andromeda said thoughtfully. 

Sue scoffed. “They were perceived as a gay couple when they started dating, were they not? If Eurypides was halfway between them and a third year, then Thomas and Ariana’s age difference must only be about six years.” 

“That’s right,” Andromeda said. “Turns out it was homophobia all along.” 

“Isn’t it always?” Tonks asked rhetorically. “Well, except when it's transphobia. I’m sure the bigots had a conniption when Ariana came out and made their relationship a straight-passing couple.” 

“Are you sure today is the only day you haven’t had time to read the paper?” Andromeda asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Tonks lifted their chin into the air and refused to respond. 

“As anyone who kept up with the papers knows, there were some quite humorous pieces in which the author’s bigotry was beyond obvious, but in an almost comedic way due to the very conundrum you described, Nymphadora.” 

Tonks got up to get another snack from the refreshment table, refusing to dignify their mother with a response. 

Chapter Text

Harry spun around in his desk chair, chewing on the end of a pen. He was writing a ‘letter’ to Ron, just trying to sort out what was going on with, well, everything. He knew he wouldn’t be able to send it, but the act of writing things out helped him feel like he had a better grip on them. And he needed the help after the veritable bomb that James had dropped on him. 

Thomas Dumbledore and his wife . 

There had been little time for James to explain just what he meant by that, but Harry had managed to figure out that the female Professor Dumbledore wasn’t Albus Dumbledore, but in fact his niece, who had married… Thomas Dumbledore. 

Earlier, he’d tried to ask the other Harry if he’d known anything about the Dumbledore's, but to Harry’s disappointment, he hadn’t known anything. For a moment, Harry had wondered whether the other Harry was trying to deceive or mislead him, but he had seemed as shocked by the information as Harry was. If nothing else, that had reassured Harry in some ways, since he didn’t feel so alone after the conversation.

The rest of the day, he had been helping the other Harry with preparing the potion he and Ron needed for their prank on the twins. Harry honestly hadn’t done much since he wasn’t any good at potions, but he had been able to help a bit, even as distracted as he was. 

After they had finished brewing the potion, Harry had gone to read in the sitting room. He did his best to focus on the pages in front of him but didn’t have much success, thanks to his preoccupation with waiting for an opportunity to talk to Lily or James. He had wanted to ask them for more information about the Dumbledores— but then he didn’t even get a chance to really talk to them at all. 

So now Harry was trying to work through everything he had found out in written form to Ron. But as he ran out of words to say, his confusion and frustration over his lack of knowledge began to fade, replaced by the aching hole in his chest where Ron and Hermione used to be.

Harry tossed the pen down in disgust, turning the paper over so he wouldn’t have to see the pathetic ending he’d left it on. He got up and started getting ready for bed, forcing himself to think about the mystery of the Dumbledores instead of his loss.

“Can you tell me more about Thomas Dumbledore and— his wife?” Harry asked the next morning, relieved to finally have a chance to get that question off his chest. 

Lily tapped her teaspoon against the side of her teacup, causing a few drops of tea to fall. “Oh, I read that article. It was fascinating, and I have to commend Thomas on his insightful maneuvering of the media—” 

“But who are they ?” Harry interrupted. 

“Oh, I forget how much context you’re missing. Hm, where to begin? Well I guess I should explain what I mean when I say that he masterfully manipulated the media. So about a year and a half, two years ago or so, Ariana Dumbledore came out as trans. She and Thomas have been in a relationship for quite a while and this was quite shocking to the media and Wizarding Britain at large. There were factions of people who were bigots about reacting to her, and it seems as though Thomas got sick of it and formulated this plan to force people to either disrespect him as well as his wife, or to show that if they respect his name change and continue to disrespect hers, the bigotry and inconsistency would be quite clear, which would give him greater grounds for future lawsuits or other retaliation.” 

“So…” Harry said, blinking rapidly and trying to take this all in. “Ariana Dumbledore is trans and married to— the uh, former Tom Riddle?” 

“That’s correct.” 

“Her deadname isn’t Albus is it?” 

“Heavens no, Albus is his own person, still doing his business with the International Confederation of Wizards— I believe we talked about this when we first met?” 

“I didn’t know there were other Dumbledores,” Harry muttered, trying to remember if his Dumbledore had ever mentioned any family. 

“Oh everyone here knows his niece, she’s a professor at Hogwarts and married to the Hogwarts co-headmaster. I remember hearing about the drama around when Thomas was first hired as a defense professor. I believe they’d just started dating, and Ariana was already on the faculty, so there were of course accusations of nepotism. But then Thomas went on to be one of the best defense professors Hogwarts has ever had, and those claims fell to the wayside fairly quickly.” 

Harry was glad he was already sitting at the kitchen table as Lily delivered revelation after revelation. He sat still in stunned silence. 

“Did you have any other questions?” 

As if hearing her voice through a tunnel, Harry felt himself shaking his head. He already had so much to process that he didn’t think he could handle anything more at the moment. He set his fork down and got up from the table. “Actually,” he heard himself say, “I think I’m going to go upstairs.” 

“Alright, sweetie. Let me know if you want to know anything else! I know you have a whole new timeline of history and current events to catch up on, and I’m happy to help!” Lily said with a smile and a small wave. 

Harry managed a grateful smile before he fled upstairs to the safety of his pointless letters. 

“Are you ready to go?” the other Harry asked, knocking on the open door frame. 

Harry finished putting away his last folded shirt and got to his feet. “Where are we going?” 

“Oh come on, I’ve only been talking about this all week! We’re going to the Weasleys to prank the twins!” 

Harry stood up and turned to face the other Harry, wincing internally as he was reminded of their height difference. “Well, you’re going.” 

“We’re both going, of course,” the other Harry said. 

Harry once again found himself at a loss for words. He hadn’t realized that the other Harry would want him to come, and now that he was being asked to go, he wasn’t exactly sure that he wanted to. It was one thing to get to know people who hadn’t existed for him in his own universe, but another thing entirely to get to know another version of his best friend. 

“Come on, Harry, it’ll be fun! The twins won’t see this coming, and even if they try and retaliate, you’ll have stranger-immunity, since Ron and I’ll be much more enticing targets. And we’ll protect you!” 

Harry scratched at the back of his neck. “You really want me to go?” 

“The more the merrier!” 

Harry scrunched his face up in thought, then nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure…” 

“I’m sure!” the other Harry said, grabbing Harry’s hand and beginning to lead him out of his room. 

Harry allowed himself to be dragged through the house and to the fireplace, since he didn’t exactly need to take anything with him. He could see that the other Harry had a bag slung over his shoulder, and he assumed that it contained the potion they’d brewed the other day. He really hoped this prank went well on the twins, if only for the sake of the impression he made on them and Ron. 

“So the floo ad—”

“It’s the Burrow, right?” Harry said. 

“Yeah! Crazy that that’s the same.” 

Harry shrugged, knowing that there were a great deal many more things that were oddly consistent. He grabbed a pinch of floo powder for himself, then gestured for the other Harry to go ahead. Once he was through, Harry followed behind, declaring his destination as loudly and clearly as he could manage. When he landed on the other side, he brushed off as much of the ash as he could, then took in his surroundings. They were as he remembered them from the last time he’d been here, another universe apart and just under a year ago. 

“Welcome to the Burrow,” Ron said, stepping forward. 

Harry stuck his hand out for a handshake just as Ron brushed it to the side to pull him into a hug. Harry blinked, then slowly brought his arms up to reciprocate. But by the time he had, Ron had already slapped him on the back and pulled away, leaving Harry feeling as though he had missed something. 

“Let’s head upstairs,” Ron said. 

“Want to show Harry your room?” the other Harry asked with a knowing smile. 

“Blimey, this is going to get confusing when you both have the same name,” Ron muttered. Then, louder: “Of course! He needs the tour!” 

Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering if he ought to say something about how he’d sort of already been here. But then he caught sight of the other Harry winking at him, so he shrugged and followed along behind the other two boys, half-listening as Ron pointed out the landmarks of the house. 

“And this is my room!” Ron announced, throwing open the door to his bedroom. 

Harry, braced for the searing orange he knew and loved, was shocked to his core by the sea of lime green in front of him. He stepped into the room and slowly turned in a circle, taking it all in. He realized, from the copious amounts of posters on the walls, that this was still a Chudley Cannons themed bedroom, but that, for whatever reason, the team color of the Chudley Cannons was lime green in this universe. 

“So Harry told me that you probably already know some stuff,” Ron said quietly, “we’re up here to figure out the finer points of our plan. Giving you a tour gave us a good reason to not join the twins in de-gnoming.” 

The other Harry nodded seriously. 

“So wait, I thought you already knew what you were doing?” Harry said, gesturing at the bag the other Harry still held. 

Ron tilted his hand from side to side. “We mostly have it, but it’s best to touch base before we launch into the plan.”

“ We ?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes. “Am I part of this plan?” 

Both the other Harry and Ron shook their heads in unison. 

“The plan is just Harry— er the original Harry? Merlin this is confusing— and I,” Ron said. 

“But you can help if you want!” the other Harry said. 

“Uh, no thank you. I don’t need the twins having a plausible reason to target me right off the bat,” Harry said. 

“That is fair,” the other Harry said. 

“So what’s your plan?” Harry asked. 

Ron grinned, and for a moment, it was so achingly familiar that it took Harry’s breath away. He forced himself to shake it off and pay attention to what Ron was saying.

“So the gist of it is that we’re going to douse the twins in those gnome pheromones that you guys made and let the gnomes take care of the rest,” Ron said. 

“Gnome… pheromones?” 

“They are going to love the twins just a little bit too much,” the other Harry said. 

“So how are you gonna get the pheromones on the twins, but not on yourselves?” Harry asked. 

“Well the point is that they drink the pheromones because the potion is for internal application,” the other Harry said. 

“So we’re just going to tell them that mum made us bring them snacks, they won’t suspect a thing until it’s too late because another perk of the internal application is there’s a slight delay to the effect, so we’ll have time to make our getaway,” Ron said. 

Harry raised his eyebrows, actually impressed. It sure sounded like this plan would work. “Wait, where is Mrs Weasley?” 

“She’s in Charlie’s old bedroom, blubbering over how much she misses them. It’s just one of those days for her, but the twins didn’t see her go in.”

Harry nodded. That explained why she hadn’t been there to greet them when they’d arrived.

“Well, I think that’s it,” the other Harry said. 

“Ready to get this plan going?” Ron asked. 

Harry shrugged as the other two boys high-fived.

Harry followed behind the other two boys as they carried a bowl of fruit salad and a jug of lemonade with glasses out to the garden where the twins were occupied with procrastinating de-gnoming the garden. 

“Snack delivery!” the other Harry called as they came into range. 

The twins straightened up from the flower they were both bent over and narrowed suspicious eyes at Ron and the other Harry. 

“What’s this for?” Fred asked, flicking his gaze from Ron, to the other Harry, and finally landing on Harry. “And who’s that?” 

“I didn’t know you had a twin,” George said. 

“Yeah, did your parents get rid of one of you at birth because one of you had some great destiny they had to train you for?” Fred asked.

“What?” the other Harry said, “No, it’s just a long story. We’re basically twins though, if you must know.” 

“And what’s your twin’s name?” George asked. 

“I’m Harry,” Harry said. 

“Oh come on, now you’re pulling our legs,” Fred and George said in unison, each holding out a leg. 

Harry shrugged helplessly. “That’s my name.”

“Like I said, it’s a long story,” the other Harry said. He hefted up the jug of lemonade and glasses in their direction. “Can you guys just take this? Mrs Weasley made us bring it out for you, and I just want to go back inside.” 

Fred rolled his eyes and took both the pitcher and the two glasses from the other Harry. He started to pour the juice into the top glass in the stack as George grabbed the bowl of fruit salad and started to stab a piece of fruit with one of the forks in the bowl. 

“We’ve got the stuff, you can go now,” Fred said. 

“Call us or whatever when you’re done so we can bring it back in,” Ron called over his shoulder as he strode back into the house. 

Harry and the other Harry followed behind him. 

“RON!” Fred shouted. “GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!” 

Ron and the other Harry traded smug smiles. 

“I think they’ve figured it out,” Harry said. 

They were watching from Percy’s abandoned bedroom. The twins had dug into the offered refreshments with reckless abandon— the added potion was flavorless, so they had had no hope of tasting it. Then once they had finished eating, they’d set the dishes to the side without calling for them to take the dishes back inside. Ron had rolled his eyes at that. It had taken several more interminable minutes as the twins returned to half-heartedly de-gnoming the garden before the gnomes had stopped running from the twins and started approaching the twins with interest. 

A couple more minutes after that, and the twins couldn’t get rid of the gnomes fast enough. And no matter how hard they threw the gnomes, they just came running back, trying to pile on top of the two of them. 

From his vantage point, it was hard to pinpoint any expressions for sure, but Harry swore he could see the obsession on the gnomes’ faces. And mere moments after Harry thought he saw that expression, the gnomes had begun to dogpile on the twins, trying to maximize their contact. 

“That looks unfortunate,” Ron called out the window. 

As he did that, the twins lost their balance and began to go under the tide of gnomes. Harry winced in sympathy and got to his feet. 

“Help us, you—” George yelled. 

Ron closed the window and gestured ahead of him. “We’d better go get them before they get mum’s attention.” 

Harry followed behind the other Harry. The pace he set through the house was leisurely, not rushed at all. It was the pace that Harry could imagine the twins setting, were their roles reversed. The three of them stepped out into the back garden and took in the fracas surrounding the twins. They were both curled up into fetal positions, arms wrapped around their heads and faces pressed into their knees to protect all their sensitive spots. 

“Good prank,” George called. 

“But get us the hell out of here,” Fred said. 

Ron hummed, then turned to the other Harry. “I don’t know,” he said, “should we help them?”

“Let me answer you with a question of my own, what’s in it for us?” 

Harry’s eyes grew wide and he looked from Ron to the other Harry, amazed that they would so blatantly play with the fire that was the twins. 

“You’ll get a merlin damned knuckle sandwich ,” Fred growled, raising his head to level a fierce glare at them. 

This was all the opening the gnomes needed to crowd in on Fred’s face, locking him into position, unable to curl back into his defensive huddle.

“Alright!” Fred said. 

“We have an animagus reveal potion you can have,” George said. 

“Got three doses?” the other Harry asked. 

Harry perked up, suddenly much more interested in the conversation. 

“We were going to sell the extra doses, but sure, we have enough,” George said. 

“Swear on the Marauder’s lives that you’ll follow through on our bargain,” Ron said.

“Fine, fine I swear on the Marauder’s lives that we’ll give you the potion in exchange for help,” Fred said. 

Ron nodded at the other Harry, and the other Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a spray bottle that Harry had not seen before. As the other Harry sprayed the twins down, Harry wondered whether any of them knew just who the Marauders were. 

Whatever the other Harry was spraying was fast acting because moments later, the gnomes were retreating, away from the yard. Ron started to pick up the stragglers, tossing them over the fence. Harry started to help him out, joined quickly by the other Harry and the twins. With all five of them working on it, the garden was soon cleared of gnomes. 

“So—” Ron said, raising an eyebrow. 

“We’ll give you your damn potion,” Fred said. “Follow us to our room.”

“So, uh, what exactly does this potion do?” Harry asked, following along behind the other boys. 

“It’s an animagus reveal potion,” Fred said.