Threads through Time
The air in the castle felt different. The weight of the ancient stone walls pressed in on Harry as he walked alongside James. It wasn’t unpleasant—just strange. The hum of magic, the flicker of torchlight, the creak of old wood all felt familiar, but distant, like a memory just out of reach. He was back at Hogwarts, but not his Hogwarts.
“Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not impressed,” James grinned, his eyes gleaming with that infectious excitement Harry was beginning to recognize. “Hogwarts is brilliant, right?”
Harry smiled faintly, but his mind was still half-occupied. Being around James was… odd. The more time they spent together, the harder it became to separate the father he never truly knew from the teenage boy walking beside him. James was carefree and full of energy, always planning something, always moving forward. It reminded Harry of himself at times, but there was also a sharp contrast in their personalities. James carried a kind of unshakeable confidence Harry had never possessed.
“Yeah, it’s brilliant,” Harry murmured, though his thoughts wandered.
They were walking through the long, winding corridors of Hogwarts, James leading the way with an almost childlike enthusiasm. He kept pointing out hidden passages, places to hide from Filch, and shortcuts that would take them anywhere in the castle. Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of the Marauder’s Map, but this was different—this was James’s world, not Harry’s.
“You’re really quiet today, Harry,” James said suddenly, glancing sideways at him.
Harry blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, just... thinking, I guess.”
“About what?” James asked, tilting his head curiously.
Harry hesitated. What could he say? That he was overwhelmed by being stuck in the past, by the idea of walking alongside his father without him even knowing it? He felt like a ghost sometimes, tethered to a time that wasn’t his own. And then there was the fact that James had no idea who he was. It was exhausting, keeping up the façade.
“Nothing important,” Harry finally said, forcing a smile. “Just Hogwarts stuff.”
James seemed to buy it and shrugged. “Well, if you’re going to be thinking about Hogwarts, you might as well let me show you the best parts.”
Harry chuckled despite himself. “The best parts, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” James grinned mischievously, coming to a stop in front of an old tapestry. “Like this.” He lifted the edge of the tapestry, revealing a small passageway behind it. “Shortcut to the kitchens. You hungry?”
Harry’s stomach gave a small, traitorous grumble, and James laughed. “Knew it. Come on, then.”
As they squeezed through the narrow passage, Harry found himself feeling a bit lighter. For a moment, it was almost like being back with Ron and Hermione, sneaking around the castle. But the nagging feeling in the back of his mind remained. James didn’t know. And the longer this went on, the harder it would be to tell him.
---
Meanwhile, Fred and George were having the time of their lives. Sirius was regaling them with stories of pranks, his eyes gleaming with pride as he and Peter led them down a corridor.
“And then—oh, you’ll love this one—we charmed Snivilus’s robes so they’d disappear just when he crossed the Great Hall,” Sirius said, barely able to keep a straight face. “Right in front of the whole school.”
Fred howled with laughter. “Brilliant! Did he try to run?”
George wiped a tear from his eye. “Snape’s robes? Gone? Merlin, why didn’t we think of that?”
Peter snickered beside them, his smaller frame bouncing as he joined in on the laughter. “Oh, he ran, alright. Tried to cover up, but he tripped over his own feet. Fell flat on his face.”
“I’m telling you, you’ve never seen anything like it,” Sirius said, puffing out his chest a little. “Snivilus is practically begging for it. The bloke’s always so sour. It’s almost too easy.”
Fred and George shared a wicked grin. “We’ll have to give him a run for his money when we get back,” Fred said.
“Yeah,” George agreed, “but we’ll need to add something special—something he won’t see coming.”
Sirius clapped both twins on the back. “Now that’s the spirit. I reckon you two could teach us a thing or two about pranks.”
Peter nodded, though his enthusiasm was more subdued. Harry noticed that while Fred and George were warming up to Peter, there was still something about him that made Harry keep his distance. Peter was quiet, reserved, and when he did speak, it always seemed like he was trying a little too hard to keep up with Sirius.
Harry couldn’t shake the unease he felt around him. Maybe it was because he knew what Peter would become—what he’d do to his parents. But it was also something deeper, an instinct that told Harry not to get too close. He stayed quiet as the others bantered, his gaze occasionally flicking to Peter, who, for all his laughter, seemed to fade into the background.
---
As the group made their way back to the common room, James continued to show Harry the nooks and crannies of the castle—the hidden spots where students snuck off to, the classrooms where he and the Marauders had pulled their best pranks, and even the spot where he’d once tried to ask Lily Evans out, only to be thoroughly rejected.
“Right there,” James said, pointing to a small courtyard just off the Charms corridor. “Tried to be all suave about it—asked her if she’d like to accompany me to Hogsmeade.” He chuckled at the memory. “She told me she’d rather go with a Blast-Ended Skrewt.”
Harry felt a pang in his chest at the mention of his mother, but he forced a smile. “Didn’t give up, though, did you?”
“Of course not!” James grinned, puffing out his chest. “Took a bit of time, but she came around eventually. Can’t say I blame her, though. I was a bit of a prat back then.”
Harry shook his head, his heart heavy. He wanted to tell James everything—how Lily had eventually fallen in love with him, how they had gotten married, how they had fought to protect Harry from Voldemort. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
As they walked, Harry’s mind kept circling back to the same thought. James was so… real. He wasn’t just the legend Harry had built up in his mind—the brave, strong, noble father who had sacrificed everything for him. He was also just a boy, with flaws and insecurities, just like anyone else.
The closer they got, the harder it became to keep his distance. Harry felt like he was watching his father from a distance, separated by a wall of time that he couldn’t break through.
But then, something shifted. As they made their way back toward the common room, James slowed his pace, glancing at Harry with a strange look in his eyes.
“You know,” James began, his tone more serious now, “you remind me of someone.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to remain calm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” James continued, his brow furrowing as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “It’s strange… you look a lot like someone I know, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.
James stared at him for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Harry’s face. Then, as if something had clicked, his eyes widened.
“Harry…” James said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”
The question hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with meaning. Harry could feel his pulse quickening, his heart racing in his chest.
And then, almost as if he were speaking to himself, James murmured, “So… am I your dad, then?”
Harry could only stare.