Dumbledore’s Office Ⅱ

Finally, after a good length of silence with Rowan and Severus staring at James finally answered, "I need to see Professor Dumbledore, it's regarding a private matter."

Rowan gestures at Severus to go, who rather reluctantly does so. Severus stiffly brushes past them, but not before flashing James a warning glare. Seeing the protective nature of Severus towards his twin sister, James blinked a bit in surprise. He had never noticed that Severus had ever been that protective of Lily. But then again, he had not spent enough much time paying attention to Snivellus-.

James blanches with shamefaced as he blinks out of his past memories and the terrible name he had once called the person he was coming to like as a truly good friend, Severus Prince. He liked the dry witty humor of the Slytherin, and despite Severus's gruff nature; he was a sincere friend always willing to go above and beyond for his friends.

It was these little personality ticks that caused James to feel sick to his stomach. The memories of his past and the present were at times in fierce and constant contradiction. And the habits formed over a lifetime were not that easy to change, but he was sincerely trying for he had much to recompense for. Even if a part desperately wished he could return to his own world, he would not return as the same person.

He was not the same James that had died that day that much was clear after all these few months. His eyes had been forced open, and he found that he could not close his eyes against the blaring truth. He couldn't back even if he wanted to. He just couldn't.

James is snapped out of his thoughts by Rowan loudly instructing him. "Come this way, Potter," before closely following after the tall, slender raven-haired figure of Rowan.

Out of the corner of his eye, James studies Rowan Prince. As usual, she was still taller than him and matched her twin brother in height for the moment. She seemed to be rather calm and collected. And those midnight black, indigo eyes of her seemed to peer into his very soul.

It was a rather disconcerting feeling to be perfectly honest especially when he caught her gaze in the library. And he could not help but wonder why he'd ever become friends with such a cold person and especially a Slytherin. Yet he had found traces of said friendship among his personal belongings that were cherished gifts and the journal accounts that suggested otherwise.

It was mostly the journal accounts that pulled gave him pause. Rowan Prince seemed to be everywhere, but above all, she seemed to be a genuine friend to the James that had written in the journals with youthful handwriting. A minder at times, but a true friend, who always seemed to come through when it truly counted.

James glanced up as they came to a stop before an ugly gargoyle. Rowan eyes him carefully and says, "It is none of my business, Potter. But if you are feeling unwell, it would be a wise idea to see Madam Pomphrey again."

"Poppy?" James blurted out, before realizing his faux pas. Most students did not call the infirmary matron, Madam Pomphrey, Poppy.

Rowan does not visibly react beyond her eyes seeming to become darker than usual. Instead, she says, "Yes, our resident matron. If you are feeling unwell, I suggest seeing her as you have been instructed to do, Potter, after the mishap that occurred in the kitchens."

Not giving him time to respond, she turns to the gargoyle, and Rowan says, "Sherbet Lemon."

With a rumble, the wall splits in two to reveal a spiral moving case. Rowan gestures to the moving staircase and says, "The staircase will take you to the top of the tower. Knock, before you enter, Potter."

Without another word nor waiting for thanks, Rowan brushed past James. James decides to remain silent and instead climbed the moving staircase frowning in thought, he wonders, when did he first develop blinders when it came to Slytherin's. He had realized in his growing friendship with Severus and Terry that he truly been prejudiced against the Slytherins from the very start. He now wondered if could he have possibly even become friends with Severus Snape, if not for that ill-fated first conversation on the Hogwarts Express?

Any further contemplation is interrupted as the stairs come to a thundering halt at the stone entrance. A gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin is before him. His former Auror habits kick in as James hides his thoughts behind mind shields. Knocking once on the door, he waits and hears the headmaster's voice say, "Enter."

James steps inside to see Professor Albus Dumbledore sitting behind an enormous, claw-footed desk. Blue eyes stare at him from behind half-moon spectacles. Long silvery hair and beard neatly sweep to the stone floor as Fawkes hums in the corner of the office. Various instruments whirl around emitting little puffs of smoke. More than a few portraits sneakily peek down at him, while in the corner on a shelf, a shabby, tattered wizard's pointed hat, the Sorting Hat sits.

"Is there something the matter, Mr. Potter?" Albus asked.

"I wish to discuss a matter of importance, Professor Dumbledore," James firmly declared.

Seeing the determined expression on the youth before him, Albus gestures for him to have a seat and close the door. "Very well, Mr. Potter, you have my attention."

Strangely enough, Albus hides a frown at sensing unusually strong shields in place in the boy's mind. It was rather unusual given James Potter's nature. And Fleamont Potter most certainly would not have taught his son how to hide his mind. Pureblood or not Fleamont Potter did not have the talent nor the interest in said subject.

James sits down before the Headmaster and presses his lips into a thin line. Taking a deep breath, he finally gains the courage to say, "Sir, I'm not the fourteen-year-old, James Potter that you know. Rather I am twenty-one years old and I died on October 31st, 1981."

Albus's eyes slightly narrow as he slowly says, "Go on, Mr. Potter."

"I'm fairly certain, I am from a mirror world that our timelines are similar enough but different at the same time," James explained. "I'm not sure what exactly happened but I died protecting my wife and my son-. And when I woke up, I was suddenly fourteen again. I thought I'd gone back in time, but slowly small things added up one at a time to reveal that this is not my original world."

Albus rests his hands on his chest and brings his fingers together as he rests the tip of his chin on one of his fingertips. "Then Mr. Potter, if that is indeed the case, why have you come to see me?"

"If this world is indeed a parallel world to mine," James cautiously said, "then you are the secret keeper of the Order of the Phoenix. And if that is indeed still the case that means that you-know-who."

James paused at seeing Dumbledore's skeptical expression. A bit embarrassed for some reason, James cleared his throat, "What I mean to say is that Lord Voldemort exists in this timeline as well."

Dumbledore's piercing eyes intently stare at James as he feels an incredibly strong force easily breach his mind. James quickly opens his mind for Dumbledore to see a span of memories regarding the Death Eaters, and his own death ending in a green flash. Dumbledore slowly withdraws after viewing all said memories as James is left with a bit of a pulsing headache.

Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes dim down now laden with sorrow and grave emotions. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," Albus tiredly said. "However, just what is that you are asking of me?"

"Allow me to join the Order of the Phoenix," James bluntly stated. "I can provide intel and my skills as an Auror."

Albus solemnly ponders the request, before replying, "As much as I would like to take you up on your offer, Mr. Potter. At present, your body is that of a fourteen-year-old boy, who is still attending Hogwarts in his fifth year and has yet to graduate. You will not be of much use to the Order of the Phoenix nor would any member of the Ministry of Magic accept such a fantastical tale."