Chapter 6: Mom and Dad!

"James Potter?" she asked.

"Yes, Madam Bones," said the boy.

She eyed Dumbledore with no small measure of anger. "And now I suppose you're going to tell me that James and Lily survived?" Dumbledore had the grace to look down. That was it for Amelia. "Oh for fuck's sake Albus!"

"Funny," the three turned to see a bloodied Harry Potter walking toward them. "That was my reaction as well, Madam Bones."

"Harry, my boy, are you alright?" The Headmaster asked.

Harry nodded. "We're all fine, sir." He turned to the Director of the DMLE. "Madam Bones, there are at least seven stunned and bound death eaters in the Hall of Mysteries and the Death Chamber, one of whom is Lucius Malfoy.

You also have probably twelve corpses. All of the dead bear the dark mark. We secured two additional prisoners as well."

Dumbledore's heart sank at that news. "Who are the two prisoners?"

Harry's eyes seemed to bore into Dumbledore, though his expression was carefully neutral. "They seem to be Lily and James Potter, but we all know that that can't be the case, because they died to save my life, right Headmaster?"

The boy next to Dumbledore spoke up, then. "Oi, that's my mum and dad!"

Harry turned his gaze to the boy. They were of a height, though Harry was just slightly taller - possible due to the boots he wore.

They had the same hair, though different lengths.

The same eyes, the same build. Unbidden, Harry's thoughts went to the prophecy - and how perhaps it hadn't been his father on it after all.

"James Potter, Junior, I presume?" Harry asked. Madam Bones heard the fatigue in his voice, and realized just how major a shock this must be. And that didn't even account for whatever took place downstairs, she thought.

"You must be Harry, then." James said. Harry thought, just for a moment, that he heard the beginnings of a Malfoy-level sneer work their way into the boy's…. No, his twin's voice. Merlin, Harry thought.

Harry chuckled, the weariness beginning to take its toll. Perhaps it was that fatigue, or just the numbness at what he had done that night, but Harry decided in that moment to lay his cards on the table.

In Parseltongue, he spoke to his brother. {"Are you alright?"} he asked.

James' eyes grew wide at the public display, but he still replied. {"Fine."} Then he paused. {"Mom and Dad?"}

Harry nodded. "They're fine, just stunned. Sirius is with them."

James nodded at that. "Well, good." He seemed to be considering his next words carefully, fighting the urge to say something. Had he looked over at Dumbledore, he would have seen the look of panic on the Headmaster's face.

"Harry," James began. "Thank you for protecting me while I trained to be the boy-who-lived." He sounded sincere, he sounded rational. But he also clearly had no idea that he had just changed everything.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then at Dumbledore. His voice was low and cold, clearly angry - but not as much as might be expected, all things considered. "You knew?"

To his credit, the Headmaster looked ashamed. But then Harry saw him square his shoulders and steel himself for the criticism. "It was for the greater good, my boy."

Harry shared a look with Madam Bones, one that she interpreted as something along the lines of Can you believe this asshole?

She smiled at Harry, letting him know that they were on the same page. They would talk at length about that night, and everything that had happened, but not now.

"Right, well, we might want to hold off on that coronation, dear brother." Harry reached into his pouch, producing the prophecy orb. "Being the boy-who-lived isn't all it's cracked up to be."

James didn't know how to respond, and so didn't. Instead, he looked intently at the orb. "How can you hold it?"

"Yes, how is this possible?" asked the Headmaster, quietly, though the worry was plain in his voice.

"Only the subject of a prophecy can touch it without risking madness." He looked at Harry with sadness in his eyes, as if diagnosing a case of terminal cancer. "A remarkable student you may be, but I'm afraid you're not as special as you thought you were, Harry my boy."

Later, Harry would forgive the Headmaster his unfortunate turn of phrase. In the moment, however, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

Getting ahold of his anger, Harry sighed, before shaking his head at the Headmaster. "It seems that your plan is and was fatally flawed, sir." He handed over the card that came with the prophecy - the one clearly showing both Harry and James.

With a slight nod, Harry acknowledged Madam Bones. "Madam Bones, gentlemen, I'm going to go check on my team, and then I plan to sleep for about a week. After that, we'll want to have a cup of tea and a sit down, I suspect."

James looked up, his face a mask of confusion, only to see Harry walking away. Everything he knew, everything he had been told, was laid bare as a lie. Or, at least, as an untruth.

Dumbledore seemed shocked as well, though, so perhaps there was hope. Mom and Dad will know what to do, thought James.

To Harry, he raised his voice. "Don't you care what it says?"

Harry shot him a look over his shoulder, the floo powder still in his hand. "Of course I do, why do you think I made a copy for myself?" Then he leaned into the floo. "Saint Mungo's!" And with that, he was gone.

James looked up at the Headmaster, who seemed to be having a panic attack. Every plan, every stratagem, was now obsolete. James gave voice to what they were both thinking.

"What the hell do we do now?"