Wizard Wars: Return of the Auror

There was another loud crash of thunder and James felt a drop of water fall onto his head. Within seconds the rain was coming down like bullets. He cringed. He had forgotten about British weather.

Hogwarts was shrouded in darkness. The hulking silhouette of its turrets and towers looked slightly eerie and a shiver ran down James' spine to see it. The castle's many windows were unlit and with a sinking feeling James realised that the summer holidays must have already started. The school was empty. Its only occupant outside term time was Argus Filch, and he was definitely not someone James wanted to see right now. Or ever, for that matter.

He gazed at the castle for a few moments, feeling strange. It seemed unreal, like he'd stumbled upon a place he'd once known in a previous life. He wasn't sure if he was happy to see it again, or sad.

James worked his brain, trying to think what to do. Perhaps he should go down to the village. It was possible that Dumbledore's brother still worked in the Hog's Head. There was a long overcoat in his bag that had a hood and he wouldn't look suspicious in that pub if he kept it up while he talked to Aberforth. He was just about to open his bag to get the coat when something caught his eye - a faint glimmer of light within the grounds. He grasped the bars of the gate and squinted towards it. Almost everything in that direction was pitch black, so black there might have been an empty vacuum there. The Forbidden Forest. His heart leapt. The light was coming from a window. By the flickering quality and the faintness of it, it was a fire lit in a grate - the grate of Hagrid's hut.

Excitement and relief spread through James' limbs like liquid warmth. Of course, Hagrid stayed at the school during the summer too! He looked up at the towering gates, and then at the padlock. How was he supposed to get in if not through the gates? He had no wand to do magic, and he was probably too rusty to be able to do anything without one. Neither did he have a broom he could use to fly in. Maybe he could use one of the secret passages... But Honeydukes would surely be closed by now, and he wasn't going to break and enter if he could help it; and the one from the Shrieking Shack would be of no use because even if he managed to get inside the shack, he wouldn't be able to get past the Whomping Willow.

In spite of himself, a little thrill ran through him at the thought that he was remembering all of these things.

James looked up at the gates again. They had an intricate, curling design to them that he might just be able to get a foothold on. He looked at his bag and considered for a moment. Then, making up his mind, he picked up the duffle bag and slipped one handle over each of his arms so that he was wearing it like a very tight backpack. Then he took a deep breath and started to climb, hoping the school would allow him entry, and wondering how on earth Hagrid was going to react to having James Potter turn up on his doorstep.

~*~

Hagrid read the Daily Prophet with a grave expression. Two more Muggles found dead that morning. That made the third incident that week alone. It seemed that Voldemort was now fully active again and out to show the Wizarding World that he had regained all of his former power. From what Hagrid had heard from the Order, Voldemort hadn't even sent his first blackmail message to the Ministry yet. He was building up the fear first.

Sighing morosely, Hagrid rolled the paper up and went to put the kettle on. He was exhausted. He'd spent most of the day in the Forest, looking for Grawp. Since the incident with Umbridge and the centaurs he had completely disappeared. Disappeared being the operative word. You wouldn't think it would be difficult to find a sixteen-foot giant in the middle of a forest. Just follow the trail of devastation. But that was just it - the trail had reached a certain point and then stopped. After that there was nothing. No footprints, no uprooted trees, no sign of him at all. Hagrid was frantic with worry and he wasn't the only one who was concerned. Dumbledore had taken a keen interest too. It was clear that Grawp was not in the Forest anymore... and that he didn't leave of his own accord. The whole thing reeked of Dark Magic.

With Grawp missing, Voldemort terrorising the world again, Sirius dead and poor young Harry in the state that he was in, Hagrid didn't think he could take much more. And the war had only just started.

"Well, it's to be expected, isn't it?" he said to Fang, scratching the boarhound's ears. "We all knew he'd come back sooner or later, and it'd be very suspicious if nothin' like this came of it. There was loadsa disappearances las' time, and not all of 'em turned out dead... BUT WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE GRAWPY?" He stifled a huge sob, and then struggled to compose himself. "Well," he continued quietly, more to himself than to Fang, "like I said, we all knew it'd be like this. And I don't doubt more extraordinary things are gonna happen before it's all over."

There was a knock at the door. Hagrid paused in pouring hot water into the teapot, all of his senses suddenly on alert. Who would be coming to see him at this time of night during the holidays? He put down the kettle, picked up his crossbow from beside the table, then moved over to the window and pulled the curtain back a little.

There was a figure standing on his doorstep but he couldn't make out who it was through the rain washed glass. He pulled the curtain back a little further to allow more of the firelight to shine through. The person had dark hair and round glasses. Harry? What in the name of Merlin was that boy doing now?

Anger rising at Harry's foolishness, Hagrid let go of the curtain, went to the door and flung it open.

"Ha - "

He stopped dead. It wasn't Harry standing on the step. It was Harry's untidy black hair, Harry's glasses, several of Harry's other features.... but it was not Harry. Hagrid's body became slack and the crossbow fell to the floor with a thud. All coherent thought had been wiped from his mind as though by some invisible hand with a blackboard eraser. No... it couldn't be... it was impossible...

The man on the doorstep gave a small smile.

"Hello, Hagrid."

~*~

James had stood on the doorstep for nearly a minute before he'd gotten up the courage to knock. He had heard Hagrid's deep voice coming from inside and had frozen at the sound of it. He felt like he was dreaming, like Hagrid couldn't possibly really be in there. Finally, it was the freezing rain that made him raise his numb hand and knock. Hagrid's voice went silent. Was there someone in there with him, or had he been talking to himself? Several seconds passed in which nothing happened. Then all of a sudden the door was flung wide open, and James found himself looking up into his old friend's wild, bearded face.

"Ha - "

Hagrid froze mid-word and mid-movement, and something large - James didn't see nor care what it was - fell from his hands with a thud. Something in James's chest clenched painfully as he forced his mouth into a tiny smile.

"Hello, Hagrid," he said softly.

Hagrid mouthed wordlessly for few moments. Finally, in a slightly croaky voice: "J-James?"

"Yeah. Sorry it's been so long between visits, but..."

It was feeble and he knew it. Another half a minute passed without a word exchanged. Hagrid simply stared at him, his mouth slightly open. Finally James said quietly, "So... can I come in? Only I think it's going to rain."

Hagrid didn't say anything but moved aside to allow James past. James stepped over the threshold and looked around.

The gamekeeper's cabin looked almost exactly the same as it had the last time he had seen it. Everything was in the same place. The only new addition was a large wicker basket in the corner, in which a huge black boarhound lay, thumping his tail at James. He supposed this was who Hagrid had been talking to earlier. James patted the dog's head.

"Bit normal for you isn't it, Hagrid, a dog? You can't tell me you've gone off the fanged and vicious variety of animal?"

He turned around to face Hagrid, but then jumped back in alarm. Hagrid was pointing a crossbow at him.

"Hey, Hagrid!" He tried to sound calm, but there was a blazing fire burning in Hagrid's eyes and he looked completely wild. "I know I haven't visited in a while but there's no need to take it that personally."

"A man who's supposed ter have been dead fer the las' fifteen years shows up on me doorstep and you 'spect me to just accept that it's him?"

Dead? Well, Voldemort must have thought that or he would surely have finished James off after he'd been knocked unconscious, so it probably made sense that everyone else thought the same.

"Okay, point taken," he said slowly. "In fact, you'd be a complete idiot if you did. Just don't shoot me before you've had the chance to make sure, okay?"

Hagrid paused for a moment. Then, without lowering the crossbow, he said, "Fine. I'm getting Professor Dumbledore down here. If yer not who yeh say yeh are, he'll find out."

James' heart leapt. Dumbledore! Besides Lily and Harry, Dumbledore was the very person he wanted to see. He supposed there was no chance of seeing the former two until the Headmaster was convinced of his identity, which could take a while.

"You do that."

Hagrid looked still more suspicious at James' lack of nervousness. He edged towards the fireplace, not taking his eyes off of James. One hand still maintaining a firm grip on the crossbow, he took a pinch of something out of a pot on the mantelpiece. Floo powder, James thought, remembering it for the first time in years. Every little piece of information he remembered gave him a little twinge of joy.

Hagrid threw the glittering powder into the flames, which turned emerald green, and called into it, "Professor Dumbledore, sir, I think yeh'd better come down here quick. There's someone here who... well, who's claiming ter be James Potter."

James' heart beat frantically against his rib cage as he stared at the fire, waiting. A revolving shape appeared in the flames. A moment later, Albus Dumbledore was stepping gracefully out of the grate.

The first thing James noticed was that Dumbledore, like Hagrid, hadn't changed a bit since he'd last seen him (he wondered vaguely how much he'd changed to their eyes). The second thing he noticed was that Dumbledore was holding his wand very tightly in his right hand and was pointing it in James' direction, not directly at him but still close enough to have the upper hand if James tried anything.

James was breathing heavily now, barely able to contain his relief and joy at seeing his old Headmaster again. He knew it was irrational, especially after all the times he had seen Dumbledore so stressed during the war, but he felt like everything was okay now. Dumbledore had always seemed to present the answer to every problem when he was at school, and he felt... safe, somehow.

"Albus..." he breathed.

"This is a mad world," said Dumbledore, studying James critically with his light blue eyes, "and never so mad than it is right now. But not usually do people who died fifteen years ago suddenly turn up on a rainy summer evening. You must forgive us, therefore, for being a little cautious."

James nodded, finding his throat too restricted for speech. He knew Dumbledore's piercing gaze meant that he was searching James' mind for any hint of a lie.

"There are people who could benefit most handsomely from pretending to be you. It would be an opportunity to find out a lot of information, or else be in a prime position for an attack."

James unclogged his throat. "I understand. I didn't expect a royal welcome. Well, not at first anyway..." He grinned uncomfortably. "But really someone would have to be mad to try and pull a stunt like that because there's absolutely no way they could get away with it, especially once they've been force-fed Veritaserum."

The colour of Dumbledore's eyes seemed to be flickering. A second look, though, revealed that it was only the firelight reflecting off his glasses. Nevertheless, he seemed so impressive and imposing and, at this moment, almost a little frightening. James became painfully aware of his sodden clothes and straggly hair, and felt slightly pathetic.

"Unfortunately a lot of the people we are dealing with lately are mad."

"Just give me a chance to prove it's really me," James continued, looking very seriously at the two of them. "Please."

Dumbledore nodded and indicated for James to sit down, but still he didn't lower his wand, nor Hagrid his crossbow. James sank onto one of the overlarge wooden chairs, his jeans squelching beneath him, deliberately putting his hands on the table where Dumbledore could see them. Dumbledore himself seemed to be thinking about something. Apparently making up his mind, he motioned for Hagrid to keep an eye on James and then turned back to the fireplace. After throwing more Floo Powder into it, the old wizard knelt down onto the floor and put his head into the flames. James wondered who he was calling. With a jolt to the heart, he wondered if it could possibly be Lily.

Two or three minutes passed, in which James, to distract himself, looked around the cabin more closely. Really everything seemed to be in exactly the same place. It was as though time had stood still in his absence. This comforted him slightly, though it still felt incredibly odd to be back, and he knew he wasn't likely to be quite so lucky in every aspect of his return. The boarhound, who didn't seem nearly so wary of him as Hagrid and Dumbledore, came and put his head on James' lap, and James scratched his ears. Hagrid's expression seemed to soften slightly.

Finally, Dumbledore pulled back from the fire and came and sat opposite James. There was silence for a few more minutes. Dumbledore hummed softly and twirled his wand in his hands. James watched it hungrily. A sudden longing had added itself to the mishmash of other feelings swirling inside him - he wanted his own wand back in his hands, wanted to cast a spell, any spell, perform magic again. He felt like he was missing a fundamental part of himself.

The flames in the fire turned emerald green again and another spinning shape appeared in it. Someone stepped out. James' eyes widened and he had to stifle a gasp of horror.

It was Mad-Eye Moody, and unlike Hagrid and Dumbledore, there was an immediately noticeable difference in him. Ever since James had known him, Moody's face and body had been scarred and misshapen from his many years catching Dark Wizards, but now it seemed he had lost an eye, too. One of them was dark, beady and normal, the way he remembered, and the other was round, electric blue and whizzing around in its socket. He looked even more frightening than ever and James suppressed a shudder as he tried not to think about how the old Auror might have lost an eye.

Moody looked round and fixed both eyes on James, who felt a flutter of nervousness pass through him. He had always been slightly scared of Moody.

"So! This is the impostor claiming to be James Potter, is it?" Moody barked. "Well, we'll soon see about that, won't we?"

James couldn't even bring himself to protest at being called an impostor straight off the bat.

"What are you staring at?" Moody demanded.

"N-nothing," James stammered. "J-just... your eye, sir, it..."

"Oh, yes." He grinned nastily, making his face seem more contorted than ever. "That happened after you were supposed to have died, didn't it? Clearly you've planned this properly."

He strode over to James, a dull thud sounding on his every other step and, leaning on the table, put his face right up close to James'.

"So... how are you doing it, eh?" Moody grunted. "You can't be using Polyjuice Potion, you'd need Potter's body for that. So what are you using?"

"I'm not using anything, sir. It's really me," James mumbled. He felt a bit stupid still calling Moody 'sir', but he couldn't bring himself not to.

"Sir, eh?" Moody smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one. "Well, you're a good actor, whoever you are. I suppose Wormtail's filled you in on all the particular details of his old friend. If you're not Wormtail himself, that is. Oh, I hope you are, I'd love to be the one who caught him."

A surge of anger jolted through James at the sound of the name. He had hoped that Wormtail would be dead by now. It didn't even register that this meant Wormtail was a wanted man, or what that might mean about Sirius.

"I haven't seen him in fifteen years," he said darkly, forgetting his fear for a moment. "And if I ever do see him again they'll be locking me in Azkaban for murder."

Moody made a sound of amusement.

"I swear it really is me. There's no Dark Magic going on, there's no scam... I'm completely clean."

"Really? Well we'll just see about that."

Over the next hour, James was subjected to every identity test known to wizard kind. Secrecy sensors, dark-detectors, concealment charms, spells to force a Metamorphmagus to revert to their original form... They cast Finite Incantatem on him, did blood tests for traces of potions in his body, gave him various potions, everything they could think of that would reveal him as an impostor. But he came up clean on every single one. Dumbledore even disappeared into the fire and came back with a Kneazle in his arms, but the creature just jumped into James' lap and curled up and went to sleep while he scratched its ears. Then all three wizards started bombarding James with questions about himself. For a moment he was terrified he wouldn't be able to remember an answer, but they all came back to him readily enough.

Finally, even Moody seemed satisfied that he was who he said he was. Not even the most powerful wizard in the world would have managed to get through all of those tests if they were concealing something. The three of them were looking at James differently now, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"I can't believe it," said Hagrid weakly, tears welling up in his beetle black eyes. "I jus' can't believe it! All these years we thought you were dead an' now here yeh are! Oh what a thing ter happen in the middle of all this misery!"

A second later, James found himself being crushed in Hagrid's vice-like arms.

"I won't be alive for very long if you don't let go of me, Hagrid!" he choked.

Hagrid chuckled between his tears and released him. James straightened his clothes, grinning, and turned to Dumbledore, who was beaming at him.

"I should have known," he said quietly, his eyes twinkling, "that you couldn't be gotten rid of so easily."

James grinned even wider. "Duh."

"Now hold on just one minute," barked Moody. "If you are James Potter, which I suppose you must be, then I think that raises the question of where exactly you've been all these years."

James' spirits dropped. It suddenly dawned on him just how very... unbelievable it would all sound. Ludicrous in fact!

"Well..." he said slowly. "It's kind of a long story. A very long story."

"We have all the time you need. And just for the record, I think you should drink this first." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bottle of an amber liquid. James knew that whatever it was, it was laced with Veritaserum.

"You don't trust me anymore, sir, do you?" he said with a smile, though he reached out to take it from Moody, who grunted. "Cheers," he added, before tossing back the liquid in one gulp.

A strange, unearthly sort of feeling came over him. All thoughts disappeared from his mind. It felt a lot like being under the Imperius curse. All worries and cares drifted from his mind, and he felt as though he was floating. He was vaguely aware of movement next to him. And then Moody's voice penetrated his empty mind.

"Just for the record... you are the real James Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes," James answered automatically, without even considering the question.

"Just making sure."

James was under the Veritaserum for a full half an hour, during which he told them everything without thought - from what had happened that night in Godric's Hollow, right up to knocking on Hagrid's door.

When he had finished talking, the room was silent. Gradually the effects of the potion began to wear off and he became aware that Moody, Hagrid and Dumbledore were standing by the door, whispering among themselves. He could only just hear what they were saying.

"...couldn't have been lying," Dumbledore was saying. "No one can lie under Veritaserum, not even Voldemort himself. And besides that I don't think for a minute that James Potter would be hiding anything sinister."

"Pretty unbelievable story, though," Moody growled.

"Actually, when you think about it, it fits perfectly with what we know happened. When Mundungus went to the house to see what was going on, he asked the Muggle paramedic if they'd got everyone out, and the paramedic said yes. Nothing was said about how many people had been taken out. The Muggles couldn't find anyone else at the time, just James. Nor did the paramedic say anything about the condition James was in. We all thought we knew that already. And we never got their bodies back because there was no way to do it without admitting to the Muggles that we knew them, and the police were asking questions."

"I can' believe I didn't check! If only I had checked to make sure he was actually dead!" Hagrid's voice was shaky. "He was covered in rubble an' wood an' stone, I couldn' see if he was injured or anythin', I just assumed it was the killin' curse as always."

"Don't blame yourself, Hagrid. Sirius must have assumed the same."

James felt a jolt run through him. Sirius was there, at Godric's Hollow?

"Well, I fully believe his story," Dumbledore continued. "This is James Potter. And I needn't even begin to say what this is going to mean to a certain person we've all been worried about."

Dumbledore and Hagrid seemed very pleased, and James shifted discreetly closer, intrigued.

"Alastor, when you return to Headquarters, could you please inform the Order of what has happened?"

Moody, from what James could see of his gnarled face, was still looking grave.

"Of course. But, Dumbledore, don't you see?" he muttered seriously. "If what he says is true then he hasn't a clue what's been going on since he got knocked out. He doesn't know about Lily or Harry or Sirius."

Hagrid's face fell and he looked ready to burst into tears. The light in Dumbledore's eyes went out. James felt a sudden clenching of his stomach that made him feel sick, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "What about them?"

The other three wizards jumped in surprise. Then they looked even graver.

"I think perhaps you'd better come up to my office, James," said Dumbledore gently. "There is a lot we need to talk about."