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Author: Sorting Hat Story: The Future's End Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 7 Words: 44,601
Harry groaned as James knocked him on his back for the third time. Several days had passed, and things had begun to settle into a routine for James and his relatives. They'd go to their classes, and when they were finished, Ron, Hermione and Ginny would accompany Harry and James to the Room of Requirement, where the two would duel until one of them was knocked down. Invariably, that person was Harry. "Getting better," James said simply. "Not good enough," Harry said, wincing at his sore backside. "When do I get to be the one who wins?" James rolled his eyes, and then assumed dueling stance again. Harry sighed, and did the same. Hermione counted out from three, and Harry released his first spell. "Tarantallegra!" "Petrificus Totalus!" James yelled, jumping out of the way. Harry's spell missed by several inches. Harry ducked and James's spell went high, but James was already on the offensive. "Rictusempra!" "Iver- " Harry dropped his wand, and began laughing at the top of his lungs. James walked over to him, before saying "Finite Incantatum!" Harry jumped backward, and was in dueling position before James realized what was happening. "Expelliarmus!" Harry said. James's wand flew into Harry's left hand. James looked for a moment like he was about to say something more, but he sighed, and smiled. "I win!" Harry said sarcastically. James laughed for a moment, and then took his wand back. Harry spent a good portion of the next three hours getting off of the floor. *** James nearly jumped out of his skin when a crash disturbed his thoughts later that night. He looked around the common room, only to see Neville trying to clean the mess he'd created. "All right, Neville?" James asked. "All right, James." "Want some help?" James asked, and received a nod from Neville. "Was I in any of the battles you saw?" Neville asked James after a moment. James furrowed his brow. He'd seen Neville, just before the older man had died. Neville's parents had only recently been cured of their affliction when they were killed by a band of Death Eaters led by Bellatrix Lestrange. In the end, Neville sank into a rage, vowing to kill the Lestrange couple if it were the last thing he did. He'd disappeared for several months, and Harry and the others had finally given up when an article from the Daily Prophet had put an end to the mystery. Neville had been captured by Bellatrix's band of Death Eaters and tortured to death in much the same manner his parents had been. James shuddered. "No, Neville. I don't know if you were in any battles. Except maybe your arguments with Professor Snape," James replied. Neville walked away with a strange look on his face, and James leaned back against the wall and sighed. There was something quite odd about talking to someone whose funeral you had attended. After a while, James pushed himself away from the wall and walked back to the dormitory, where he lay down and tried desperately to escape the images running rampant through his mind. The next morning, James woke up very groggy, glancing toward Harry's bed. His father slept peacefully. James nodded before grabbing his wand and waving it over his right palm, conjuring up a cup of steaming tea. In no time at all, he began to feel his body warming up and mentally began preparing himself for the day. Potions, for the first time since his arrival, and Charms, as well as Transfiguration. No problem. "Who drinks green tea this early in the morning?" Ron muttered, still asleep. James jumped at the sudden sound, and his cup of tea crashed to the floor and shattered. Harry was up in an instant, pointing his wand at James's chest. "S...sorry, Dad," James said. Harry gave him a funny look, but nodded, slowly lowering his wand. James waited, while a strange look warred over Harry's face. Finally, he gave up on whatever battle he was waging with himself, and asked James, "Are you going to make a habit of that?" "Habit of what? Spilling my tea? Or calling you Dad?" James asked. "Both. Either." "No I don't intend to make a habit of spilling tea. I don't know about calling you Dad, though, that's a habit I've had since I was very young. I'm a bit attached to it," James replied. "Well, I've had whatever sleep I'm going to get tonight. Let's go down to the Common Room," Harry replied. The two boys made their way down the stairs, after James had quietly disposed of his mess. In moments, they were sitting in front of the fire, and a very uncomfortable silence had begun to stretch between them. Harry broke it after a few minutes. "Tell me about your life?" Harry asked. "Well...I don't really know where to begin. I do know I had it much better than you did. I never met the Dursleys. From as far as I can remember, I was surrounded by friends of yours. Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Grandma and Grandpa Weasley, the twins, and Uncle Bill and Charlie, and all their children. I always loved going to the Burrrow. Grandma Weasley's cooking...." James shut his eyes and smiled. "Mmmm." Harry nodded, "Yeah!" "Professor Dumbledore was there quite often, and so was Professor Sn...Sprout," James said, trying to cover up his slip, but Harry was too quick for that, even without tea. "Why in the name of Merlin was Snape at my house?" Harry demanded. "Er...." Harry waited. James eventually sighed. "Dumbledore's insistence. I have no idea how he managed to get you to agree, but you never complained in front of me." Harry scowled. "Thanks for the warning. Bloody git." "He really did save Dean's life. He's mellowed out quite a bit over the past few years. After Voldemort figured out what Severus was up to, things got a bit harder for him. He didn't have as much time to harass students, and he eventually had to leave teaching completely. It wasn't long after that when he was killed." "Bloody hell," Harry said. James had grown visibly pale with the last admission. "The war didn't go well for our side, Dad." Harry waited, internally struggling with his new title, while waiting for James to continue. "Do you have any idea what it's like to talk to people who you know are dead? Well, a lot of them were dead in my time." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but James rushed on before Harry could speak. "Do you know what it's like to lose everything? I lost my whole family, all in the space of a few months. You, and Mum, and Grandma and Grandpa...." James stopped, and burst into tears, while Harry sat there, totally unsure of what to do. He nearly jumped out his skin, scrambling for his wand, when someone put her hand on James's shoulder. "That must have been awful," Ginny said softly. James nodded, not turning around, while Harry sighed and put his wand away. "Geez, Ginny! Put some bells on!" Harry snapped. "Quiet Harry!" Ginny snapped, glaring at him. Harry glared back at her, but realizing that his attitude wasn't helping James' predicament, looked away a second later. James turned toward Ginny, and wrapped his arms around her neck, his sobs shaking his whole frame. Ginny glanced at Harry for a moment, but then began to gently shush James, while rocking back and forth. Harry looked at Ginny quizzically. "Mum always does this," Ginny whispered by way of explanation. Slowly, James quieted, and eventually pulled away with a sniffle. "Thanks, Mum." Ginny stiffened, pushing James further away from her. "But, Mum..." James said, confused. "Don't call me that!" Ginny said fiercely. "I'm s- " Ginny turned around and stormed over to the stairs, only making it to the first step before Harry said, "Stop." Ginny froze, and then slowly turned toward Harry. "What did you say?" she asked, in a dangerous tone. "You heard me. I said stop. You have no- " "You DON'T tell me what to do, Harry!" Ginny yelled. James winced, and hoped no one was trying to sleep. "What right do you have to try and tell me what to do? Well?" Ginny continued, red in the face. "Where were you when Dad was bitten? Where were you when Fudge decided that Dad was a liability? Have you forgotten that the rest of us have lives being ruined as well? Or have you forgotten? Do you remember my first year, Harry? Do you remember what happened? I nearly got people killed as a result of what Voldemort was able to do. You have no right- " It wasn't until things started exploding that Ginny finally let up. She looked at Harry in concern, but his eyes were riveted on his son. James' face was twisted in anger, and his eyes were full of guilt. "You think you're the only one to have been possessed? You think you're the only one bad things happens to?" James said, ignoring Ginny's concerned look. "I'll tell you, Mum, of another link between us. I was possessed by him as well, in my third year. He'd already gotten Dad, but no one knew it yet. He got me as well. The mixture of blood, combined with the fact that he'd successfully possessed both of you made it much easier for him. You should be grateful you were stopped. At least you didn't kill anyone." James' chest heaved, as his cheeks flamed with anger and shame. Ginny and Harry stood in silence, their anger forgotten. "Who?" Harry finally asked. "It....she....Professor McGonagall." James replied. The colour nearly drained from Harry's face. "But she's almost as strong as Dumbledore!" Ginny said, startled. "But not as strong as Dumbledore." "What happened? How did you get out?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore figured out what was happening, and eventually helped me break through. They always did say that Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort ever feared." "So why couldn't he help Harry?" Ginny asked, quizzically. "It was too far done by the time we figured it out. With me, it was a lot less subtle. I guess Voldemort wanted to use me as a distraction." James replied. "But if you're so much stronger..."Harry began. "I am. But that isn't the point. Remember the graveyard?" James asked. "Yes," Harry said, his face darkening further. "The blood flowing through Voldemort's veins is a perfect match for yours. When he did that, you lost a part of your soul," James said, pausing while Harry shuddered visibly. "My blood isn't an exact match, so what Voldemort wanted to do wouldn't have worked. Voldemort's main problem is his ego. He wanted to use you to kill Dumbledore, and then force you to kill yourself, while relinquishing just enough control that you would understand what was happening, even if you couldn't stop it. Anyway, if one of you dies, the other will become vastly more powerful. If he'd managed to make you kill yourself, he'd have been unstoppable." "And if someone else killed me?" Harry said sarcastically. James sighed, "It wouldn't have worked either, but you'd have been out of the way." "What about wards?" Ginny asked. "What about them? Wards don't care about blood. Just the magical signature of those who pass through them." "So Tom's magical signature is different from Harry's?" Ginny asked. "Yes. Every person in the world has a different magical signature. Fred and George do. Even a clone would have a different signature. If there are twins who have the same signature, one of them is born a squib." James replied. "Maybe that's what happened to Filch." "Could be. Who's that?" James asked. "You'll meet him soon enough," Harry replied. "You're a Potter." Ginny's face darkened again at this. James sighed. "Why is that so hard for you to accept?" he asked. "You've told me time and time again you loved Harry from the first time you read about him. I'd be irrefutable proof he ends up- " James stopped talking, as Harry's face turned beet red. Ginny's eyes suddenly began to sparkle. "This is going to slay Fred and George," James remarked. "Unless Ron kills me first," Harry replied. "They wouldn't dare," Ginny replied. "She's right you know. I've seen her when someone's got her back up," James assured Harry. Ginny stood up, and walked over to Harry, but suddenly there was a crash, and all three faces snapped toward the stairs, only to find Neville at the bottom of the stairs. "Neville!" Ginny yelled, rushing over to him, with Harry and James directly behind her. "Ow," Neville moaned. "What happened?" Harry asked. "I heard someone talking and came down to see who it was. I tripped over Trevor before I could get down," Neville said, clenching his teeth. James nodded, pulled out his wand, and muttered something under his breath. Neville's face cleared instantly, and he looked up in surprise. "How'd you do that?" "Magic," James replied, shrugging. Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you thought of showing Madam Pomfrey that trick?" Neville asked. "Perhaps. When was the last time you went to see your parents?" James asked. Neville's face took a guarded look. "Last weekend." "When do you go see them again?" "Tonight, why?" "Just wondering. Do you need us to cover anything for you?" James asked. "No. Dumbledore took care of it." Neville said. James didn't reply. He was already deep in thought. Without a word, he turned and headed toward Dumbledore's office. "That was abrupt," he heard Neville say as he walked into the corridor. By the time anyone replied, he was out of earshot. *** Several hours later, James found himself following the Headmaster to a room in the Irreversible Spell Damage ward. After opening it, Albus beckoned James inside. "Neville will be here soon, James." Dumbledore reminded the boy. Neville hadn't asked questions when Albus had asked permission to have James join him, but he had given James a slightly sour look. The sound of someone approaching him brought James back to the present. He looked up to see Alice Longbottom. She seemed to be trying to give him something. Not knowing what else to do, James accepted it. A wrapper of some sort, he noticed. James mentally began preparing himself, as Frank approached. As Frank neared his wife, James began to speak, in a low voice, steadily increasing in volume as the spell progressed. Briefly, his thoughts threatened to flash back to the time the spell had been invented. One of the last times he'd seen Professor McGonagall alive. She and Madam Pomfrey, along with his mum, had begun to lay the groundwork for what James was now doing. It hadn't been perfect yet, but the understanding was there. When James volunteered to go back in time, he'd been given the completed research. He'd memorized it and talked to his remaining professors about it. Angrily, James forced his thoughts back to the spell he was performing. The slightest slip and....mentally cursing himself, he shifted his focus yet again. Aiming his wand at himself, James spoke the last words of the incantation. A moment passed, and memories began to fill his consciousness, some of which were not his own. "What do you know about the Order of the Phoenix, Frank?" Dumbledore asked. "Nothing really. It's supposed to be an organization for fighting the Dark Arts, right?" Frank replied. His mum raised her wand and cursed Blaise Zabini, while trying to shield James with her body. His father's eyes, as Dumbledore uttered the spell which would kill him. Alice in the maternity ward in St. Mungo's. Frank pacing outside the hall, while Harry's father tried to console him. The look in Frank's eyes, the first time he saw Neville. Alice's tired smile. Neville's picture in the Daily Prophet, after his death. The Dark Mark over the Longbottom house. Alice's terrified screams, and her burning desire to protect Neville. Frank's despair as he realized they weren't going to win. "Are you sure you want to do this, James?" the headmaster asked. "You might not survive the trip." "I've lost everything here. I have no choice," James said. The older man nodded, and walked away. Voldemort's face. With a crushing pain in his scar, and a crash that rocked the room, James returned to the present. Alice screamed, panic twisting her face, and she turned toward Neville's room. "Don't worry about me Alice! Take Neville and leave! They're- what?" Frank yelled, as be began to realize he wasn't in his home. "Who are you?" Frank asked, weakly, shoving his wife behind him, and reaching for a wand that wasn't there. "Where's my son?" James made a point of making sure that Frank saw him lower his wand, and secure it, before raising his hands, palms outward. "Mr. Longbottom?" James asked. "Yes. Who wants to know?" Frank asked, his voice tinged with distrust. "My name is James. You've been here for...some time." James replied. "Where's my son?" Frank repeated. "He is safe, Frank," Dumbledore cut in. James jumped, he hadn't noticed Dumbledore enter the room. "Albus? What's going on?" "I am afraid that is quite a long story. For now, suffice it to say that you were cursed and have been in St. Mungo's for many years. James has reversed it." "But he's just a boy," Frank said. "That's true, and one I suspect is even more special than we know," Dumbledore replied, resting his hand on James' shoulder. "Where's Neville, Albus?" Alice asked, speaking up for the first time. "I suspect he is on his way." "Why isn't he here? If we've really been under some curse for all this time, why shouldn't Neville be here when it was lifted?" Frank asked, in a confused tone. "Because I wasn't totally sure it would work. I didn't want him to get his hopes up, and then have them shattered. Better that he come and see the result, than to have seen it fail," James replied. Frank nodded, seeing the wisdom of this, but before he could say anything, the door opened, and Neville and his grandmother walked in. For a moment, no one spoke. "I didn't imagine you'd still be here, Albus," Neville's grandmother said with false cheer. Frank broke the silence before Dumbledore could reply. "Mum?" he asked, his voice clear. Her head snapped toward him so quickly that James was afraid she might have broken her neck. Alice meanwhile, was gaping at the boy next to James. "Neville?" she said hopefully, but then pain crossed her features. "No. You can't be. You're too old. But you do look so like my son." Tears had begun to steam down Neville's face, even before his mother had finished talking. "Mum," he said softly, his voice cracking. No one spoke for a moment, and the sound of Neville's half cries filled the room. "Mum," Neville said, more firmly, when he could speak again. "You are my son," Alice said, her voice tinged with wonder. She glanced at Gran, who nodded slowly. Alice turned to Frank, and said softly. "It is our son. I know him." Frank nodded and then, uncertain, held his hand out to Neville, who took it in his own and began to cry anew. Frank pulled Neville into a hug. "Have you taken care of your Gran, all these years?" Frank asked, his voice thick. Gran nodded through tears of her own. "He has, son. He has." "I knew it. I always said great things were in store for him," Frank said, not really talking to Gran. He pushed Neville away from him slightly, and looked him in the eye. "I'm proud of you, son." James slowly made his way to the door and left the room, unnoticed. A/N: Thanks to Darcy for helping me out with some dialog issues. Thanks to Lourdes for teaching me that expression about having your back up. And of course to my beta for her efforts (how she manages to stay sane with all my comma errors, I'll never know) and to you, my readers.
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