Who to trust

Lily was awakened with a jolt. She felt somehow that she had been dropped on the ground. She opened her eyes and saw an inky black sky above her. She rose up quickly. Beside her, James popped up almost as fast. They were sitting in identical coffins.

"Why are we sitting in coffins?" Lily asked James.

James shrugged. "I don't remember. The last thing I remember is Voldemort showing up and cursing me...I was sure I was dead..." He shook his head to clear it. "I guess no--"

"Wait!" cried Lily, climbing out of the coffin. "Where's Harry?" She began searching the ground, the coffin and finally the tombstones frantically for her baby.

"Lily, Lily, Lily," said James, grabbing her arm. "Sirius's probably got him. He's Harry's godfather, remember? If anything happened to us..."

"Come on!" interrupted Lily, and they set off.

However, Sirius's hideout was empty. The things inside had clearly not been touched for a long time. "How could this have happened?" murmured James, looking around. "It's almost like it hasn't been touched for quite awhile...unless this wasn't his hideout?"

"Maybe Professor Dumbledore would know where to find him," suggested Lily.

James shook his head. "Lily, we can't just walk up to Hogwarts. It's the middle of the school year. He's probably busy."

Lily wiped her forehead. "It's a little hot for November, don't you think?"

"Just a little bit," agreed James. "So?"

"I just thought I'd share it," Lily shrugged. "Anyway, it's a Saturday, isn't it? Maybe it's a Hogsmeade weekend, and he won't be too busy."

James sighed. "Okay, fine. Come on. We'll go see Professor Dumbledore." Then he smiled. "Let's see if I still remember how to Apparate."

They arrived just inside the Forbidden Forest, between Hagrid's hut and the greenhouses. "Seems a bit...deserted, doesn't it?" muttered Lily, looking around the grounds. No patches of welcoming light shone in the common rooms, and the fires were always going during the school year, unless that had changed. The Great Hall, too, seemed unusually dark. A few lights shone down, mostly from the teachers' offices. "Even on a Hogsmeade weekend, there should be first- and second-years in the common rooms."

James stopped as they reached the door. He lifted his hand, hesitated, and then knocked at the door. Almost immediately, the door swung open to reveal Severus Snape, a boy who was once in their year. James frowned. "Snape, what are you doing here? I thought you graduated!"

"I did, Potter, you slow-witted arse. I teach Potions now," snapped Snape. Then he went a funny colour. "Did I just say what I think I said?"

"Depends on what you thought you said," grinned James.

"I thought I just snapped at James Potter," said Snape, his colour returning.

"You did," said James. "So what?"

Snape's eyes widened. He slammed the door in James's face and ran off.

"What was that all about?" James asked Lily, who shrugged.

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Professor Dumbledore was sitting in his office talking to Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, when Professor Snape burst in, extremely ashen-faced.

"Sorry to bother you, Professor," he said breathlessly, not sounding like himself, "but we have a problem."

"What might that be, Severus?" asked Professor Dumbledore evenly.

Snape looked him in the eye. "Well, Sir, James and Lily Potter are standing on the front porch."

"Oh, tell them to come on up," said Dumbledore, turning back to the other teachers. "I haven't seen them in a long--they're WHAT?" he exclaimed, jumping up.

"They're standing on the front porch," repeated Severus. "And they don't look a day older than when they died."

"Oh--my--" gasped Dumbledore, rising quickly. Professor McGonagall jumped up and followed the other two teachers as they walked down to the main entrance.

Dumbledore opened the door, exposing James and Lily, who stood on the step grinning. "Hello, Professor," said Lily. "We were wondering where Sirius was."

"I--was--wondering--that--myself," said Dumbledore slowly, still trying to process the fact that the Potters, dead for fourteen years, were standing in front of him as alive as ever.

"So you haven't seen him?" queried James.

"Not since June," said Dumbledore.

"Why was he here in June?" asked Lily, puzzled.

Dumbledore shook his head. It was natural they'd ask about Sirius, he was their best friend...and he was supposed to have Harry. "He came to see Harry."

"Harry wasn't here in June," said James, absolutely bewildered. "He was at home, sleeping most of the time."

"What the--" began Dumbledore, when Professor McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Oh," said Dumbledore. He turned to the Potters. "I must say this is a bit of a shock," he said.

"Why?" inquired Lily.

"You two have been dead for fourteen years," said Snape.

"No!" exclaimed Lily.

"Is Harry all right?" asked James anxiously. "He's with Sirius, right?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "This way."

They stepped over to a mirror. "Do you remember a Muggle movie called Beauty and the Beast?" Dumbledore asked the Potters. When they nodded, he continued. "This is similar to that mirror. If you look in it, it will show you what you want to see." He stepped aside and they stepped in front of the mirror.

Immediately, the mirror swirled and revealed a bedroom filled with broken toys. A small, skinny boy lay asleep on the bed. He rolled over, looked at a clock near his bed, and pulled on his glasses. He climbed out of bed, obviously wearing his outfit for the day, and headed down the stairs. Lily gave a small cry of surprise as she recognised the people sitting around the table watching television. "Why--it's Petunia and her husband!" she cried. "What is Harry doing there?"

"It's the only family he has," said Dumbledore sadly.

"Why isn't he with Sirius?" demanded James.

"If we find Sirius, he'll tell you himself," said Dumbledore, who had no wish to tell them right now, or indeed ever.

"Where are they?" asked Lily.

Dumbledore pointed to the bottom of the mirror. "That's from early July. At the moment, he's staying at the Weasleys."

Lily smiled. "That's all right, then."

The Potters turned away from the mirror. "What should we do now?" asked James.

Dumbledore thought for a minute. "I daresay that Harry will want to see you." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Professor, would you go and pick him up for me? Just tell them I want to speak with him."

"Certainly," she said, and walked off.

Professor McGonagall took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fire. "The Burrow!" she cried, and disappeared.

**************************************************************************************

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came in laughing and bickering.

"No way, Ron, that was sooo a goal!"

"What do you know? You don't even play Quiddich!"

"Yeah, but I do, and I say it was a goal."

"You would agree with her. She's on your team!"

"You would argue with him. He's on the other team!"

They entered the kitchen. "Hey, Mum?" called Ron. Suddenly there was a whoosh behind them. Hermione turned around and shrieked. "Aah! I mean...uh...what a surprise, Professor!"

The other three turned around too. "Aah!" exclaimed Ron.

"Professor, whatever it is, I swear I didn't do it," said Harry.

Professor McGonagall gave them all a smile. "Nothing is wrong," she said. "Professor Dumbledore simply wishes to speak with you." She nodded to Harry, who gulped.

"I--I'll tell Mum where you've gone," gulped Ron. "See you later."

Professor McGonagall pulled the twins into the fire, and they disappeared.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Professor Dumbledore was now back in his office, along with Lily and James. He was attempting to fill them in on what had happened in the last fourteen years, carefully leaving out Sirius's escape from Azkaban. James laughed softly when he heard that Remus had been a teacher.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, Remus was our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher two years ago. He was very popular with the students, especially the Gryffindors and the third years in particular. Of course, these third years are now fifth years. In fact, he was so popular that he is returning in the same position again. The Ministry performed a test, and he has somehow become cured of the small problem that forced him to resign last time. Your own son said he was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that Hogwarts had ever had."

At that moment he heard a grinding noise. "Excuse me," said Dumbledore, standing up and striding over to the door.

The ornate door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall. "I brought him, Albus," she said, indicating something behind her.

"Thank you, Minerva," said Dumbledore with a smile.

Professor McGonagall turned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have lesson plans to complete." She walked away from the door, revealing a bewildered-looking youngster.

James started. This boy could almost have been him at that age. Dumbledore smiled at the pair.

"Harry, so glad you could come."

Harry looked into Dumbledore's blue eyes. "Professor, whatever it is, I swear I didn't do it. I've been at the Burrows all summer..."

"Harry, Harry, don't worry," said Dumbledore kindly. "You have done nothing wrong. There is someone here I feel you need to see."

Harry's insides wrenched with worry. He hadn't looked at a Daily Prophet all summer, and he was afraid that Sirius was there, ready to tell Harry that he had been captured and was being permitted to visit Hogwarts one last time to apologise to Snape before it was back to life in Azkaban. However, two people sat on the sofa behind Dumbledore, and neither one was Sirius. The two sprang up.

"Harry, Harry," said the woman, in a voice that was strange and familiar and soothing and unsettling all at once. "Don't you recognise us?"

Harry was prepared to ask if they were him and his wife from the future when he gasped.

In a trembling voice, he said, "M--mum? Dad?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he turned pale as the weak winter sun reflected in a murky lake. Lily and James Potter had been dead for fourteen years, yet here they were as plain as day, alive as ever and none the worse for the wear. They bore no mark of the curse that had killed them.

Smiling, Dumbledore said, "You may as well find an empty classroom to stay in for now. If you don't mind, I have things to do."

Lily walked out, talking eagerly and hopefully. James followed her, listening intently. Harry hesitated. How could he be sure these were really his parents? They didn't look like they'd been dead and buried for fourteen years.

"Problems, Harry?" asked Professor Dumbledore, making Harry jump.

Harry whirled around. "It's just that--how can I be sure that they're really my parents?" he blurted. "I mean, my parents have been dead fourteen years, and they don't look like they have. And I wouldn't know how to tell...I barely remember them, and the few memories I do have are horrible. How can I be sure they're really who they say they are?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Caution and suspicion. Both wise and natural. It may be best, Harry, to simply get to know the man who says he is your father. Under no circumstances would I allow you to live with them until I am sure they are who they say they are. I would not risk placing you in a dangerous situation, or a trap laid by Voldemort."

Harry felt the colour return to his face, and his insides sorted themselves out. Dumbledore always seemed to know exactly what was bothering him, and he was always able to soothe any fears. That was part of the reason that Harry felt so safe at Hogwarts. He knew that if anything were wrong, Dumbledore would make it all right again. "Thank you, Sir," he said. "I'd best go."

Dumbledore smiled again. "See you later, Harry."

With that, Harry left the office and descended the spiralling stairs to meet his father.

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James sat in the abandoned Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, drumming his fingers on the windowsill. The room had changed greatly since he had been at Hogwarts. The large dragon skeleton no longer hung from the ceiling. Chains no longer hung from the corners, waiting to hang disobedient students. For this he was grateful, but it made him wonder.

He heard a soft sound coming from the doorway, and he turned. Harry entered the classroom and sat down next to him. "Hello," he said quietly.

James stared around the room again. "This place has changed a lot since I was a student," he commented.

"There've been at least four teachers since then," said Harry softly. "Quirrel had garlic hanging all over the room to ward off vampires--he was really paranoid. Lockhart was a selfish, stuck-up git, and he covered the room with paintings and pictures of himself. Lupin was everyone's favourite, and he had the room rather like it is now. And Moody had it about like this, except he had red beads hanging from the sconces."

"When I was here," James said, "there was a dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling."

Harry nodded. "Lockhart let loose a cage full of pixies in our second year. They more or less destroyed the room, and they cut the dragon skeleton down." He shrugged.

"Ever seen a real one?" James asked curiously.

Harry nodded again. "Hagrid had one in our first year. He treated it like a fluffy bunny or something, named it Norbert. My friend Hermione and I managed to get it off to Romania with some friends of my friend Ron's older brother Charlie, but we got caught in the process. We'd used your old invisibility cloak--Dumbledore gave it to me--and we left it at the top of the tower. Filch caught us."

James laughed. "Remus did that once. I loaned him the cloak to go out for an evening stroll with his girlfriend, this girl in our year named Lucinda, and they left it in the Astronomy tower by mistake. I got it at our next class, but they got in a lot of trouble. Lucinda didn't marry him, though. She wound up marrying a boy in the year above us, a prefect named Frank Longbottom."

Harry looked up sharply at the name but didn't answer. After a moment, he said, "I also met one up close last year. I somehow got entered into the Triwizard Tournament, and the first task was to get past dragons. I got stuck with a Hungarian Horntail."

James's eyes widened. "Those are supposed to be really deadly."

Harry nodded for the third time in as many minutes. "I used the Summoning Charm to summon my broomstick from the castle, and I used that to avoid the fire...I got grazed once by the tail spikes, but it wasn't serious."

"You have a broomstick?" James said with interest. "Do you play Quiddich?"

"I'm on the Gryffindor house team," Harry replied. "I play Seeker. I'm the youngest player in a century. I started in my first year."

"How'd you make the team?" cried James in delight.

Harry flushed with pride. "Well, there's a slightly forgetful boy in my year named Neville Longbottom--yes, he's Frank Longbottom's son. Our first flying lesson, Madame Hooch told us not to fly until she gave the whistle. Neville was nervous and kicked off too hard. The broom took him all over the courtyard. He fell of, got stuck on a statue, then fell and got caught on a bracket, then fell again and broke his wrist. This really slimy Slytherin boy, Draco Malfoy, who's also in our year--he's the son of Lucius Malfoy, by the way--picked up the Rememberall Neville's grandmother had sent him that morning. I told him to give it back, and he just flew off to leave it on the roof or in a tree. I'd never been on a broom before, but I just kind of knew what to do. Ron told me it looked like I'd been born on a broomstick. Malfoy threw the Rememberall and went back to the ground, and I caught it just before it hit the ground--"

"How far were you from the ground before that?" interrupted James.

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I dunno, maybe fifty, sixty feet. Higher than the Quiddich goals, anyway, so it must've been at least sixty. Professor McGonagall saw me and introduced me to Oliver Wood, who was the Quiddich captain then--he's graduated now, but he was the best damn captain Hogwarts has ever had. I've been on the team ever since."

"How many matches have you won?" James inquired with interest.

Harry smiled for only the second time that summer. The first had been earlier that day when he came in from playing Quiddich with Ron and his brothers. "All of them--well, except one," he replied. "That wasn't our fault, though. There were some dementors on the school grounds, and every time I get near one--" He broke off, shuddering. "I faint. So, of course, I fell off my broomstick. Cedric Diggory--he was the Hufflepuff seeker at the time--caught it just after I fell. When he saw me on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch." Harry stared away out the window. Quietly, very quietly, he murmured, "He always was a decent kid."

James couldn't help but notice that when Harry mentioned Cedric Diggory, he faltered a little, or that tears came to his eyes as he stared out the window. He knew that something was wrong with Harry, and he wanted to ask, but somehow he knew that Harry wouldn't tell him. The things Harry had been telling him were ordinary, everyday things, like Quiddich and dragons and things like that, things he would talk about with his friends or anyone like that. He wasn't telling James anything like secret fears, or any horrible things that he couldn't tell anyone else. He couldn't figure out why--and then it came to him. Harry didn't trust him. That made James upset. His own son didn't even trust him. Maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe there just wasn't anything wrong with Harry. Finally he knew he had to ask. "Harry, tell me, son, do you trust me?"

"Of course," said Harry, not turning his gaze from the window.

"Come on, Harry," said James calmly. "Tell me the truth."

Harry looked into James's grey eyes with his piercing emerald ones--Lily's eyes--calculating him, wondering whether to tell James the truth or what he wanted to hear. Finally he lowered his gaze. "No," he whispered.

James felt hurt. "Why not?"

"Because--" Harry hesitated, as if he didn't know how much he could tell this man, then finally said, "Because my parents have been dead for fourteen years. You two don't look as though you've been dead at all. And my parents were killed by the Killing Curse, the curse with no countercurse, the Unstoppable and the Unforgivable, Avada Kedavra, the curse that no one can survive. If that were true, my parents couldn't be here, unless they were reawakened from the dead. And Dumbledore told me last year that no spell can reawaken the dead, so--so you can't be my parents." Harry looked up, and James saw that once again there were tears in his eyes. "Besides, Voldemort has used various disguises to get Death Eaters--and once even himself--into Hogwarts to try and kill me. For all I know, you're trying to get me to trust you so you can get me by myself and kill me for Voldemort, or turn me over to Voldemort and let him kill me." He turned away again. "I'm sorry. I just can't trust anyone these days, especially not people who have been dead for fourteen years."

James was startled. You-Know-Who was after Harry? But--why? And he was shocked at the bravery of his son. He was the only person James knew who was brave enough to say Voldemort's name, and it was especially brave of him considering what had happened to him and Lily. He knew now that they had indeed been killed by the Killing Curse, but he wondered how he had come back to life. Maybe his son was right, maybe it was one of Voldemort's tricks, but he was definitely James Potter.

Harry stood up, startling James out of his thoughts. "It was nice to see you," he said quietly. "I'd better go. If I'm gone too long, Mrs. Weasley will thing that Voldemort got me." He went to the door, then stopped and turned around. "Tell--tell Mum I said hi." With that, he was gone, leaving James with a lot to think about.

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Harry, too, had a lot to think about, but first he should probably get back to the Burrow. He was just passing by the Defence Against the Dark Arts office when a voice called to him from the doorway.

"Harry?"

Harry whirled around and saw the last person he'd have expected to see in that office again.

"Professor Lupin! You're back!"

"Yes," smiled Professor Lupin. "The Ministry ran a few standard tests, and while I am still and will always be a werewolf, I am now in full control. I no longer transform at the full moon, only when I desire to. Professor Dumbledore very kindly agreed to give me my old position back."

Harry smiled, but it didn't quite reach his emerald eyes, clouded over with suspicion.

"Problems, Harry?" asked Lupin quietly, looking at him.

Harry shook himself. "It's just--I was wondering something," he said hesitantly. "It's kind of personal, but..." He looked up. He just had to ask...had to make sure... "Did you ever borrow my dad's invisibility cloak?"

Professor Lupin nodded, smiling slightly at the memory. "I was in love with a young lady named Lucinda. James loaned me the cloak so we could go up to the Astronomy Tower and look at the stars...of course, it wasn't a full moon..." He shook his head. "We left the cloak at the top of the tower. Filch caught us...oh, my, did we get in trouble. Professor McGonagall gave us a stern lecture. Because there was something dangerous roaming the castle, she took off a hundred points apiece for our foolhardiness. And she gave us both detentions..." Here he sighed. "Lucinda grew up and married Frank Longbottom instead...yes, Harry, before you ask, she was Neville's mother, and Frank was his father."

"I--" Harry hesitated. "I kind of knew that. About Frank being his father, I mean. I found out about Neville's parents last year, sort of by accident."

Professor Lupin sighed again. "Harry, you'd best be getting back to wherever you were. Here, I've got some Floo powder, I'll just light a fire..." He bustled in, then stopped and turned around. "By the way, Harry, why were you here?"

Harry stared at his feet. "Two people showed up on the front steps a little while ago. Professor Dumbledore wanted me to meet them. They--" He choked back a sob before answering. "They say that they're my parents."

Professor Lupin looked up sharply. "What do you think?" he asked, carefully keeping his voice even.

"Well, I--I'm not sure," admitted Harry. "I talked with the man who says he's my dad, and he was telling me about that thing wit the invisibility cloak...that's why I asked...but I really can't trust him. For all I know, this is just another one of Voldemort's traps. I can't trust anyone these days, especially a man who's been dead for fourteen years."

Professor Lupin nodded, tears springing to his own eyes. He, too, knew that it was quite impossible that it was indeed James who had spoken to Harry, but no one but him and Professor McGonagall knew about that...and Sirius...and Peter! Peter could have told someone about it. He pulled a small pot out of a drawer and held it out to Harry. "You'd best go, Harry," he said. "I will see you in a couple of weeks."

Harry nodded and took a pinch of the powder. Putting his glasses carefully in his pocket, he cried, "The Burrow!" He threw down the powder and disappeared.