HARRY POTTER + JAMES POTTER
PG-13 (language) | COMPLETE
James was nervous. Well, he didn’t get nervous, but if he had to guess, that’s what the tight feeling in his belly was. And he was certainly excited. It was just that the brief chat on the tablet with Harry didn’t go exactly as planned. Not that he had a plan, but after first learning that Harry was older here, James had imagined he’d be a little bit more like his old man, and truth-be-told, he didn’t seem as excited to learn about James as James had been to learn about Harry.
He was probably overthinking it. Yeah, that was it. If only Sirius were here, or Lily, they’d be able to distract him. Instead, James was pacing in the entry hall of his new apartment, feeling grateful that his new suitemates weren’t around to be bothered by him. Twice in his pacing, he had opened the front door and looked out in the hall hopefully, only to scold himself for being over eager and promptly shut it again.
His pacing brought him into the communal room, and James wandered aimlessly through the kitchen, thinking he should put on some coffee. But after planning to fill the water, he got distracted by his thoughts again, and ended up carrying the empty pot around the room as he started pacing once more.
--
People always mentioned the striking resemblance between James and Harry, but Harry had no real idea where it started and where it ended. He presumed it started somewhere between their looks and their personalities, but as for the end? Harry had only really seen James Potter in action twice in his life, not counting photos - which he didn’t. The first time was in Snape’s memories and hadn’t exactly left a lasting positive impression on Harry, and the second had been when he’d been about to die in the forest, holding the resurrection stone.
So, he had no idea what to expect from his father. His father who was pretty much the same age as he was right now and...had no idea what was about to happen in his future. Harry had to be the one to tell him that and he was not looking forward to it. How did he even put it? How was he meant to tell his dad that he was going to die because of him?
He broke out of his thoughts when he realised he was at the door, swallowing hard and knocking a few times, taking a step back. He put his hands in his pockets, removed them and then put them back in, trying to look somewhat normal and failing miserably at it.
--
He's here! James nearly dropped the coffee pot in his hands in his excitement, but thanks to quick reflexes he managed to catch it before it reached the floor. Setting it onto the nearby pool table, he moved quickly toward the entrance and jerked open the front door with a smile on his face.
The young man staring back at him was familiar. Perhaps not in the eerie way that Steve Harrington was, but James could definitely see the resemblance. "Merlin's tit, you look like my mother," he blurted out. "Look at that curl, oh she'd love that." He didn't give Harry a chance to respond before continuing. "C'mere, kid!"
James pulled Harry into a hug, but managed to restrain himself from holding on for too long. Releasing the other man, he stepped back to make room in the entrance. "Come in, come in!"
--
Harry didn’t get much time to process seeing his dad, alive and in the flesh, before he was pulled into the world’s fastest hug and then ushered into the flat. “Right- right, yeah. In,” he looked around the place even though it wasn’t all too different from his in what was actually contained in it. They were nice rooms, just...not very personal unless the person had been there for a while. He’d heard that they shifted people about occasionally anyway, so there was no use getting too comfortable.
Harry could really see why people thought they looked so similar. Except his mother’s eyes, obviously - that was something he practically heard in his sleep these days. “I don’t really know what to say. It’s not like I can introduce myself or anything,” he rubbed his hands on his jeans awkwardly. “But, um. Hi? I don’t know if I really should fill you in on everything but you should probably also hear it from me and not everybody else.”
--
James shut the door and followed Harry back into the main room, watching with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of pride as they moved back into the common area. He couldn't help but notice the air of nervousness that surrounded his son. "You don't need to be scared of me," he remarked as he retrieved the coffee pot from the pool table. He walked back over to the kitchen area, wanting to keep himself busy and resist the urge to examine Harry futher.
"Want some coffee?" he asked, holding up the empty pot with a slight shake as he moved over to the sink.
--
“Coffee? Sure,” Harry took a seat on the closest chair, chewing nervously on his thumbnail. “Me? I’m not scared of you,” nervous, definitely. Worried about what he had to tell him, but scared was entirely the wrong word for it. “I’m just- it’s not going to be pleasant to hear, really. I’m guessing I’ve been born when you’re from? How- how old am I?” he noticed the twitch to the coffee pot, glad he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward here.
--
James busied himself around the kitchen, grateful that Harry had agreed to the drink, if only because it gave him something to do. He cocked his head to listen to Harry's reply as he ran the water, and turned around to face the other man once he had filled the pot.
"Oh, a year? Wait... what's your mother say... Fifteen months... Sixteen months?" He waved a hand flippantly as he moved over to the coffee maker. "It was Hallowe'en 1981, before I woke up here, if that helps you any."
--
Harry’s face went white when he heard the date, swallowing back the nausea. His voice was small when he finally found the ability to speak again. “...Right,” he breathed, rubbing his forehead. “Right. Okay. Yeah, that...helps,” he was hours from death and he didn’t even know it. He wished he’d brought his broom so he could make a swift escape, now.
--
Seeing the shift on his son's face, James immediately abandoned the coffee pot next to the machine. "Hey, are you OK?" he asked, brow furrowed in concern as he moved over to lean on the counter that rested between them. "You’re not getting sick on me, are you?"
--
“Me? No, I'm just-” Harry grimaced. He didn't know how to put it. He didn't think there would ever really be an easy way to put it. “You- Merlin,” he sighed. Spit it out, Potter. “You died that night,” he murmured. “You and mum.”
--
For a moment he simply blinked at Harry with a stupid expression. James didn't spend a lot of time contemplating his own mortality. Sure, there'd been a few conversations after his own parents had died, and when Lily was first pregnant, but he had confidently believed that they were likely to survive anything that Voldemort's war threw at them, and imagined they would live at least as long as his parents.
"Well, shit, I guess it's a good thing I'm here." he finally said, mostly to himself. James turned around and moved back to the other counter, picking up the coffee pot and then setting it back down again. He turned back to face Harry, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "Lily too?" He couldn't help the sad frown that crossed his features with that question. If anything, the knowledge of her death hurt more than his own passing.
--
Harry nodded weakly. “You, um, made Pettigrew your secret keeper, didn't you? He, he's with Voldemort,” Harry said it quietly. “He sold you out and everybody assumed it was Sirius, so that...yeah. That went as you'd expect, I suppose,” he looked away. “I'm sorry. I wasn't mad at you, I just never knew you.”
--
Apparently nothing had gone as James had expected. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Looking away from Harry, James' brow furrowed in confusion and surprise. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of Peter working for Voldemort. It wasn't that he thought Harry was lying to him, it was just never in the realm of possibility in his mind. "How..."
He began pacing around the room, his plan to make coffee fairly abandoned at this point. James had nothing but questions, and the more he thought about it, the more questions he had. "Who..." It was a lot to process, and it was another moment before he stopped pacing and turned back to Harry. "If Sirius was blamed, who'd you end up with?"
--
Harry looked up at him when he started to pace. Apparently that was something else he'd inherited, then. “...Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,” he said it slowly, looking up at him. “Professor- I mean, Lupin went into hiding for a while when it happened. So- yeah. I was with them until I went to Hogwarts until I was seventeen.”
--
The sad confusion was immediately replaced by a sneer of disdain at the names that Harry mentioned. "Dursley?! Bloody hell," James exclaimed, a tinge of derisive sarcasm in his voice as he added, "Whose brilliant idea was that?"
--
“Dumbledore’s. When- when mum-” he didn't finish that. “She left me with a family protection. It meant I couldn't be found, as long as I was living under their roof,” he laughed a little bitterly. “They really hated me. Just because I was me, I guess. Dudley came around in the end.”
--
James closed his eyes tightly, raking a hand roughly through his hair as he processed Harry's words and the bitterness that accompanied them. He rubbed the back of his neck, gripping it tightly as he tried to deal the myriad of emotions welling inside him. His heart was breaking for his son, never mind his own yet-to-be-dealt with feelings, and he struggled to find the right thing to say.
He shook his head, finally opening his eyes to look back at the other man. He lowered his hand, leaving a red hand-shaped imprint against his neck. "Harry, I..." What could he say? "I'm so sorry." They felt like a poor consolation, but he repeated them anyway. "I'm so sorry. If I had known, I..." He sighed, shaking his head again as he slowly walked back over to the counter where Harry sat.
"You seem to be..." Good? Fine? James was disgusted at his inability to talk, and drifted off without finishing the sentence. It was a slight comfort to know that Harry had at least survived whatever happened to end his and Lily's life, but still-- knowing how hard that life must have been for his son-- he was at a loss for words, a rarity for this particular Potter.
--
“I'm still here,” Harry smiled softly as he looked up at him. “Despite, uh- everything. We beat him in the end. Voldemort, I mean. He didn't win,” took too many lives, so it was a small condolence but...they had won.
“He tried to hit me with the killing curse but it didn't work, because of- mum. So.”
--
James returned the smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was feeling a bit weighted by the conversation and couldn't quite bring himself back to the level of enthusiasm he'd had when Harry first arrived. "Yeah, well... no surprise there. Lily was always aces at defensive magic."
He paused for a moment, looking over his son thoughtfully. "So, what kind of fiction do we come from? Maybe it's something I can look up on my own, and you don't have to... Well, I don't want to bug you with questions you'd rather not answer."
--
Harry rubbed his forehead. “I don't mind answering. They're books, there's movies too- they miss some stuff out. It's really weird that my life is a book,” he cleared his throat. “It's quite literally called the Harry Potter series, though. I didn't make it. I don't know why they called it that.”
Harry felt...well, pretty awful for ruining his day, he just couldn't let him carry on thinking he was angry at him or something. “If it helps, I couldn't go a day without somebody saying I look exactly like you.”
--
His eyes widened at the name of their source material. This son of his must have really turned out to be some kind of wonderful to be the titular character of an entire series. James was proud to hear that, and yet also sad that he couldn't take any of the credit for how well Harry turned out.
James mentally shook away his feelings of guilt and focused on Harry's second comment. "Yeah?" he said with a smirk. "Well, I guess I can't deny you."
--
Harry rolled his eyes at that, but he was smiling. “Seriously. Exactly like you, but with my mother's eyes. I think it even freaked out Remus and Sirius at first,” he paused. “If you're here- they could turn up too,” that would actually be nice. That would be really nice. “I think I like Atlantis a lot more, now.”
He wanted to move the topic on from more miserable things, though. “What- what kind of things do you like? All I really know is that you were a quidditch player too, you’re an animagus, you were a bit of a prick in school and a really skilled wizard. I don't know much else other than what Sirius and Remus told me.”
--
James likewise appreciated the idea that some of his friends may eventually show up, and smiled at Harry's sentiment about Atlantis as he stood up a little straighter. Remembering the coffee he had originally offered, he moved back over to continue the brewing process as Harry continued talking.
"Uh, excuse you, who's calling me a prick now?" he asked, glancing back at his son with mock indignation.
--
“You were definitely a prick in the memory I saw,” Harry smirked a little. “To Snape? Don't get me wrong, he made my life a living hell regularly- but I don't like bullies,” he hesitated slightly. “Actually, this is weird, but can I show you something? I don't want you to think you made like...zero impact at all.”
--
He was pouring some coffee grounds into the filtered cup, about ready to defend himself against Snape's memory, when Harry's continued offer made him forget whatever response he had planned. He swallowed, ignoring the nervous flip in his gut as he turned around to face Harry with genuine curiosity.
"Yeah, kid. You can show me anything you want." Even as he said the words, he realized it was probably somewhat inappropriate for him to be keep calling Harry 'kid', particularly when the young man standing before him was at least his own age, but the affectation was a a form of defense in some ways-- a way of locking onto the fact that his son was still his son despite the fact that he had aged overnight... Well, for James, at least.
--
Harry stood up, feeling somewhat awkward about this. He honestly never really liked to show off - he was quite a humble person despite all the praise he got. He knew he deserved some of it, but he thought his friends deserved just as much, if not more.
That being said, he took out his wand, dragging up a few of the happy memories just from the past few days. His dad being here, alive. Hermione appearing. It was enough for him to silently produce the stag patronus from his wand, watching as it went to examine James. “So. Yeah,” he murmured lamely.
--
James didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the silvery mirror of his own animal form. He watched the patronus as it moved about him, and his eyes were shining with unshed tears when his gaze returned to Harry. He moved over to his son and pulled him into another hug, this one longer and tighter than the initial greeting. His voice was gruff, and heavy with emotion when he said, "Thank you," over Harry's shoulder before finally releasing him.
--
Harry wrapped his arms around James tightly this time, hugging him as long as the other held onto him. He had his dad back and Merlin, it was only just really beginning to hit him now that the bad things were out of the way. It was a second chance for...both of them, really. “Hi, Dad,” he murmured when James let go of him, smiling at him awkwardly.
--
Blinking back those pesky tears, James smiled brightly at Harry's words, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth. He'd never had any real career aspirations; Dad was the only title he'd ever been interested in. But before he got too emotional, he shook himself lightly, and still grinning he snapped his fingers. "I need to get that coffee on, don't I, and you had some questions for me."
He moved back over to finalize the coffee preparations, thinking back to Harry's earlier question about his interests. "What do I like, what do I like," he mumbled under his breath. "I like a fair amount of muggle stuff, I s'pose. They make the best music. And that Star Wars movie, oh man. That was a great distraction after my parents passed."
With the coffee finally set and starting to percolate, James turned to face Harry again, leaning against the counter. "Did Sirius tell you about the time we tried to turn our wands into lightsabers? We got a week of detentions and McGonagall threatened to revoke my headboy badge, but it was worth it."
--
“I love Star Wars. I had to wait until everybody was out and steal Dudley’s remote from his drawer to watch them when they got them, but it was all worth getting caught,” he grinned. He'd gone for a week without hot meals for that one. “I'm pretty sure Han Solo is here, you know. I’ve seen his face pop up on the screen a couple of times anyway.”
His dad liked muggle stuff. Was that because of Lily, Sirius wanting to distance himself from magic or just in general? “He never mentioned that, no. He didn't talk much about you unless I asked, actually.”
--
"Merlin, Dursley's such a wankersore. I can only image how awful his little spawn must've been." His lip curled slightly as he imagined what Harry had to deal with.
His smile faltered slightly to hear about best mate. There were a lot of questions there, but James refrained from asking since the conversation was finally turning to a more positive light. Besides, there was plenty of time to learn what had happened to everyone else. But, if Sirius wasn't very forthcoming, James figured that he already knew the answer to his next question. "So I guess you probably don't know much about your grandparents, either?"
--
“Dudley was pretty awful,” Harry shrugged a little. “He was- well. They gave him quite literally anything he wanted, anything he asked for- you can imagine how that turned out for them.”
At the mention of his grandparents, Harry blinked. He’d never really thought much about them because they simply hadn’t existed for him - he’d always automatically gone to Vernon’s parents at the thought of ‘grandparents’. “No, not really.”
--
James' ducked his head sheepishly as Harry described Dudley's upbringing, which was fairly similar to his own. "Yeah, well, they were older than Christmas by the time I came around, but they were pretty groovy for a pair of dinosaurs." He smiled fondly. "Hogwarts was kind of a refuge for my dad when he was a kid-- probably like it was for you-- so he gave me all these old maps he'd made of the school so I'd know what I was in for. And my mum was the one who introduced me to muggle music. She used to write the old textbook for Muggle Studies, but they'd updated it to someone else by the time I joined the class." He glanced back to check on the coffee as he added. "Her family's the reason we're rich."
A horrible thought came to mind and he turned back to Harry with suspicious concern. "You've got money, right? Dursley didn't spend it all, did he? I mean, you should still be getting revenues since firewhisky never goes out of style, but even still..."
--
Groovy. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at his use of language - kind of dated, kind of weirdly endearing considering it was his dad. “Money? Oh- oh, no. Dumbledore kept it locked up in my vault until I was old enough to go there. I’ve- never really had anything to worry about when it comes to money, at least. I got 12 Grimmauld Place too, but I gave it to the Order until everything was- over,” he grimaced a little. “That took a lot of fixing, but I didn’t want to sell something so important.” He was lucky in that sense. Once he was old enough to live on his own, he’d never really needed a job. He’d only wanted one. He practically had unlimited money considering he’d destroyed Voldemort, too.
“Two of my friends had the Marauder’s Map. They gave it to me to use. I didn’t know it was made by you until I met Sirius and Remus.”
--
"I wondered what happened to that thing!" James exclaimed at Harry's mention of the Marauder's Map. "I always intended for you to have it, but Sirius just said he left it at a safe place at school. And then I figured that was only fair. After all, it was his idea to turn my dad's stuff into something better, and what if he had kids someday too?"
His smile dropped a little at that thought. Thinking back to earlier, where Harry mentioned Remus in hiding, and Sirius taking the fall, he couldn't imagine his friends were able to have any sort of life after his own demise. "Did... That is... Are you the only one?"
--
“It got confiscated by Filch- the caretaker, I mean- at some point, but Fred and George stole it back from him and used it. You would like Fred and George-” just George, now. “They opened a joke shop. I won some money and gave it to them so they could start it up and they did really well. People needed a bit of cheer through the war, I think.”
At the question, he had to take a minute to think. “I mean- I mean, I have friends-” then he realised. Kids. “Sirius- never had children. Remus had one. Teddy, I’m his Godfather,” Harry smiled slightly. “He’s a metamorphmagus so he doesn’t have to pay to dye his hair or use polyjuice potion to disguise himself. Remus and Tonks, though- they died in the Battle. Sirius- was my fault.”
--
Merlin, how long did the war last? James wondered. Harry was quite accommodating with his information, but the details were leaving James with more questions, not fewer. He was definitely going to be doing a fair share of reading in the next few days, assuming that Atlantis carried their source material.
He mentally repeated the names his son had mentioned. Tonks. Tonks. "You mean little Dora? But she's just a-" He cut himself off abruptly, remembering that a lot of time had passed and it wasn't fair to judge one of his dearest friends, who'd, let's face it, had always had a hard time socializing with the fairer sex. He turned and started opening cabinets to search for coffee mugs, and grabbed a pair once he found them.
James set the mugs down by the coffee maker with a little more force than he intended. There was so much that he wasn't able to do, would never be able to fix, and it was a lack of control that made him angry with himself, despite the irrationality of the emotion. He had a feeling that his son was like him in that regard, carrying the weight of things beyond his control, but rather than avoiding and pushing down those feelings, he seemed to be swimming in them.
"It was supposed to be different, you know." He spoke softly, his back to Harry as he stared into one of the empty mugs. "You were supposed to have a gaggle of siblings and cousins of the self-made variety, and be happy." He glanced back over at Harry, not quite meeting his eyes as he asked, "Did you ever get to be happy? Are you... happy now?"
--
“He had the same...dilemma. She was young. I don’t know if they were in love, exactly, but I don’t really...think about it,” he shrugged slightly. “Teddy’s happy despite everything and we tell him about his parents when he wants to listen, you know?” he watched as James fiddled around with the coffee mugs, feeling...weird. It was a weird conversation to have to have, but it was going better than he expected it to.
Happy? That was an odd question. He’d never thought about whether he was happy, but he supposed he was. “Yes? I mean- I’m not dating anybody right now, but I had a steady girlfriend for a few years. Things just took us in other directions. Everything’s good. Confusing, because I don’t need to work but I want to, I just don’t know what I want to actually...do. Being an Auror isn’t really what I imagined and I really enjoyed teaching when we- well. There was a time where school basically became a dictatorship so we set up a group to teach people Defense against the Dark Arts alone and I honestly miss teaching people a little bit? I don’t know. I’m the Lead Mage here but I haven’t done much towards that yet.”
Whether he was happy or not, Harry didn’t know. “I have a good...well, additional family. Molly Weasley basically took me under her wing with Arthur, even though they didn’t have the money for another kid. I try to look after them when they let me.”
--
As Harry spoke, James poured the coffee, and carried both mugs over to the counter where his son sat so that he could set one down in front of him. He watched the emotions that played across Harry's features as he talked about career uncertainties, and his war-time experiences, and made a mental note to thank these Weasleys that took care of his son when no one else was around, should he was be given the opportunity to do so.
It was hard not to be proud of the young man sitting across from him, in spite of the fact that he could take little credit for man he became. As James nudged one of the mugs closer to Harry, he remarked, "It's all well and good to be an Auror, but if I can give you one piece of advice my dad gave me: 'Do what makes you happy, son. You're more likely to be proud of the work you've done, and you only get one chance at this life business'." He nodded down to the coffee as he added, "I don't know where anything is yet, and I don't know how you take it." For himself, James was quite content to enjoy it dark liquid as is.
--
“I normally have hot chocolate, actually. I have the worst sweet tooth in the universe, but coffee is definitely nice,” Harry grinned over the mug and took a sip of it. He had a lot of questions to ask him, but for now he was...oddly content to just sit there in silence with his hands curled around the mug, his wand where he’d left it on the table.
“You should try some of the drinks we have these days. Well- I say that, but everything from home is here. That includes Muggle coffee, which is really good. Lattes are amazing, so are mochas,” Harry was definitely thinking about the advice, though. He didn’t hate being an Auror, but he’d already been through the intense stress of battling the dark arts since he was eleven. He kind of wanted a break.
--
A warm smile remained across his features as he listened to Harry list off the types of drinks he should try. Moving around the counter, he settled himself into the empty seat next to Harry, propping an elbow on its surface as he turned to face his son more directly. "I've already been offered one free drink, so I'll definitely be trying out the variety of options this place has." He sipped from his own coffee before adding, "Why don't you tell me about this Defense Against the Dark Arts class of yours. It sounds you made quite an impression when you were in school."
--
“I, uh. I was sort of pushed into it by necessity,” Harry laughed. “By the insane overlord we had as a...she called herself the “High Inquisitor of Hogwarts” or something like that and she basically stopped anybody from learning how to fight the Dark Arts because nobody believed me that Voldemort was back. God, it’s a long story,” he was smiling, though.
“So, Dumbledore’s Army was- initially kind of a joke name that stuck because the Ministry was terrified of Dumbledore making an army from his students. Ridiculous, right? But I started to teach them because I was the only one who could produce a patronus back then,” and that set Harry on a long tangent, just...talking about the Army and the people in it, the students who’d learned to save lives even though they should have been the ones being looked after. They’d had to take matters into their own hands, after all, but it gave Harry some sense of purpose to talk about the good they’d done rather than the horrors and death they’d all endured because of Voldemort for once.