Who James Potter and his son. What Examining the difference between heroics and stupidity When Sunday evening Where Harry's cottage. Status/Rating Incomplete // PG
Albus Dumblemore was a little bit magical, James suspected as he stood in the shower at the cottage he shared with Teddy Lupin, washing off five days in a bowling alley with a long, hot shower. Sure, there had been hand soup and sinks in the alley, but it wasn't quite as refreshing as a full on scald-off-a-layer-of-skin shower.
They'd talked a lot. A lot, a lot. If James has a memory that was worth anything, his vocabulary would have ended up rather expanded over the last few days but words were always of little importance to Potter. What he did retain, however, was a whole lot of thoughts and feelings concerning his son, and what he ought to say to him. Albus, in his nineteen or twenty years might have lacked the extensive knowledge that he'd gather by the time James would meet him later, when Albus was already pushing towards his hundreds, but he still had a calming maturity that Potter, young buck that he was was, still happened to be a good decade away from.
Albus did seem to understand what it meant when James explained that nothing in the world meant more to him than his family, and that included unconditionally a son that he didn't feel was actually his. He just hoped that Harry understood as well. Understood that what was most important was keeping himself safe. But Potter was nervous. He felt like he didn't have any knack for serious conversation and he was worried that what he wanted to say wouldn't sound right to his son because Harry seemed to have this idea of who James Potter was supposed to be and maybe, just maybe, opening up like this and being honest was not something that would quite align itself with the Prongs Mythos that Harry probably subscribed to.
Drying himself off to the point that his hair wouldn't freeze when he stepped outside, Prongs stole one of Teddy's scarves before leaving their cottage and heading down the street and, doing his best to mostly hop into footprints that had already been made, bouncing along to his son's cottage.