if harry didnât know any better, he would think that maybe he had died that night. surrounded by death eaters and the determined pleas of hagrid in the forest, a flash of green light â and then nothing. maybe there had been no dumbledore telling him to go back, no lie from narcissa malfoy to keep him alive, no end. maybe that night had been the end, not only of the war, but of the boy who lived. it was possible, and by all accounts, what should have happened. maybe that was why suddenly, harry had been reunited with sirius, why his father was in front of him.Â
except â well, heâd seen hermione, hadnât he? she was alive and well, somewhere nearby. no, it had to all be real. the thought froze harry to the spot, unfeeling of anything but the overwhelming fear and confusion that surged through him. the weight of his fatherâs hands pulling him in was enough to jolt him through it, a strangled noise that could only be a sob going into jamesâ shoulder. for an overwhelming moment harry just stood there, frozen, before his arms went tight around his father as another broken cry rose through him.Â
it felt absurd, that the thought going through harryâs mind at that moment had him at eleven years old. how many nights had been spent, curled into a ball in front of that damned mirror, watching the reflection of his parents, longing for it to be real? so many times, told it could never happen. harry felt very young again, the same little boy that heâd once been, afraid that any moment now, james was going to disappear and leave him once more.
his eyes were shining with tears that had yet to fall, but hard as he tried, they werenât going away. there were so many things to tell him, to ask him, but all harry could do was stare at james. he had to remember this. then, ââ mumâs alive?â the words were broken, strangled on their way out. and then he couldnât help it: he laughed. it was warped, strangled, but a laugh all the same. âmumâs eyes, your face. iâve been hearing it since i was eleven.â and he had clung to it, the only connection he had for so many years. âiâm â no. iâm not well, but iâm not hurt.â harry managed, swallowing the lump that lodged into his throat. there was no reason to lie about it; he was still waiting for all to be well. â- but iâm alright. yâknow, iâm . . well, iâm better than iâve been.â
james had missed out on everything, on years of connection with his son, but all james could think now was... thank merlin it worked. what he and lily had done, what they had sacrificed, wasnât for nothing. harry was here, and they were together. whatever else james had been searching for, whatever lasting concern that had been churning in the pit of his stomach, was suddenly gone. he needed to know everything. needed to know where harry had been, what heâd done. how life had been with sirius.
never was james so happy that heâd made sirius harryâs godfather. james imagined that life had been full of mischief, but a lot of fun. he wondered if sirius had introduced harry to the marauderâs map, if harry had tip-toed around hogwarts and hogsmeade as he, sirius, peter, and remus had once done.
jamesâs chest tightened. their secret-keeper. the only one who could have betrayed them. harry was alive, but it was no thanks to peter.
but harry spoke, and his voice was like music. james was brought right back to the present, where he reached forward to clasp harryâs shoulder, holding tight. how old was he? how many years had passed? harry couldnât be that old... but he looked more a peer than a child. the world worked so mysteriously sometimes. âjust since you were eleven?â james asked, humor slipping back over his features. it concerned him, of course, to hear that he was better than he had been, but james let it slide for the moment. likely just the same confusion as they were all going through. and if not... it would come.
âsirius... is he here? old padfoot. thatâs what we used to call him. iâm sure you know heâs an animagus. that must have been strange to grow up with a godfather who could become a dog at will. i used to change, too. havenât in some time, but i imagine i still could. tell me everything.â