The Potters' Liberation

Chapter 1

Harry Potter was snoring loudly. He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open. His twin brother, James Potter, slept in their only bed that they've shared since moving into the room from the cupboard at age eleven.

The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on their bed around Jamie's body, and amess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on their desk. The headline of one blared:

POTTER TWINS: THE CHOSEN ONES?

Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.

"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.

Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculations is rifle that it concerns the Potter Twins, Harry and James Potter, the only two people known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who are also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going to far as to call the Potter twins "the Chosen Ones," believing that the prophecy names them as the only ones who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. Page 2, column 5)

Two large trunks stood in the very middle of the room. Their lids were open' they looked expectant; yet they were both almost empty but for a residue of old underwear, sweets, empty ink bottles, and broken quills that coated the very bottom. Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the window an inch or so but he didn't wake up. Next to him was a letter that arrived three days ago which both twins read multiple times.

Dear James and Harry,

If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Private Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow where you both have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holiday.

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistances in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you both.

Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,

I am, yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry grunted again and moved further down the window. This time his grunt woke up his twin who groaned as he sat up. Though twins Harry and James barely looked alike, even though they both hold a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt obtained from the night Voldemort killed their parents. James Potter was taller than Harry, much taller. He stood almost six foot two, overshadowing even their best friend Ron, and he had a more muscular body than Harry's thin average one. James had fully developed pecs that lead to a defined six pack that had a long thing treasure trail of black hair leading to the boxers he was wearing. His arms had biceps half the size of Harry's head and he could lift Harry with ease, which James does often. With his shaggy black hair and dark eyes hidden by glasses James looked to be an Adonis brought to life, a feast for the eyes for both girls and boys.

"Harry, why are you sleeping like that?" He asked, his voice deep and commanding. "Harry?" He placed a strong hand on Harry's shoulder and lightly shook his brother.

"What you want James?" Harry slurred looking up at James.

James chuckled and pulled Harry into his arms. "Come on little brother, you need to wake up. That or at least sleep in our bed."

"Dumbledore's coming later… looking for him," Harry slurred again.

James chuckled and kissed Harry's forehead. "Yes, later… which means that you need to sleep now. Come on Harry."

"Okay," Harry sighed. He let his brother lead him to their bed and pull the covers open for him. It was a tight fit but they were used to sleeping in the same bed and liked it. It was comforting having their brother in their arms, heads pressed against each other as they shield each other from the world outside. Which is the position the room found them in five minutes later the only sound was their snoring and the ticking of an alarm clock.

The boys did not pack, it just seemed too good to be true that they were going to be rescued from the Dursleys after a mere fortnight of their company. Dudley did not even get a proper chance to punch Harry yet. Harry could not shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong—their reply to Dumbledore's letter might have gone astray; Dumbledore could be prevented from collecting him; the letter might turn out not to be from Dumbledore at all, but a trick or joke or trap. Harry had not been able to face packing and then being let down and having to unpack again. The only gesture he had made to the possibility of a journey was to shut their snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in her cage.

The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the number twelve and, at that precise moment, the streetlamp outside the window went out.

Both boys awoke as though the sudden darkness were an alarm. Harry hastily grabbed his glasses and practically fell out of the bed as he ran to stick his nose against the window and squinted down at the pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the garden path.

"It's him!" Harry practically screamed as his brother started snatching anything and everything within reach from the floor and throwing it into the trunks. Harry turned to help James lob sets of robes, spellbooks, and packets of crisps across the room and the doorbell rang. Downstairs in the living room their Uncle Vernon shouted, "Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?"

Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in the other and looked at James. "Did you—"

"No, I thought you did…"

They stared at each other both horrified and extremely amused for a moment. James ran to get something decent on his body. They both clambered over the trunk and James wrenched open their bedroom door in time to hear a deep voice say, "Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay James and Harry has told you I would be coming for them?"

The boys ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught them to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible. There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half-moon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat. "Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry and James did not warn you that I was coming," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him. James turned to Harry and said, "Go finish packing up, I'll deal with our relatives."

"Aright," Harry said all too happy to turn around and getting as far away from his aunt and uncle as possible. He could hear Uncle Vernon's loud voice yelling through the house as he reached the top of the stairs every now and then. Returning to the safety of their room, Harry looked at both set of open trunks and the mess around it. Underwear, robes, shirts, pants, and all assortments of unmentionable clothing that James brought for them laid scattered around the room tangled in bunches that would be horrible to explain to Mrs. Weasley if she ever saw the mess. Harry picked up the most embarrassing articles of clothing and folded them as small as he could and placed them at the bottom of his trunk before covering them quickly with his socks and underwear. Harry somehow gathered all the muggle weights and magical weights that James collected and shrunk them with a Diminuendo Charm before placing them in a corner of James's trunk. He managed to extract their Invisibility Cloak from under the bed, screwed the top back on his and James' jars of color-change ink, and forced the lid of James' trunk shut on his cauldron before spending ten minutes looking for his (It was being used as a waste basket near the desk). It took Harry nearly half an hour to have everything packed and ready. Then, doing his best to balance two trunks and Hedwig's cage, he made his way back downstairs.

The feeling downstairs was tense. James was sitting awkwardly in his chair as Dumbledore talked to the Dursleys who were sitting in their sofa. Harry tried to move quietly so that they didn't see or realize his invasion.

"—This magic will cease to operate the moment James and Harry turn seventeen' in other words, at the moment they become men. I ask only that you allow James and Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time. Ahh Harry, so good of you to join us. And you already have your trunks. Excellent."

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat, Aunt Petunia, however, looked slightly flushed. James stood quickly and made his way to Harry, taking his trunk. "I'll explain in a bit," he whispered in Harry's ear. Harry flushed and nodded.

"Well Harry, James… time for us to be off," Dumbledore said at last, standing up and straightening his long black cloak. "Until we meet again," he said to the Dursleys, who looked as though that moment could wait forever as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his hat, he swept from the room.

James took Hedwig's cage from Harry and they both looked at the Dursleys and hesitated before saying "…Bye."

"Place your trunks on the sidewalk, please," Dumbledore instructed the twins once they left the front door. James and Harry did so, James placing Hedwig's cage on top of them. "We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," he said pulling out his wand. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you two to bring your Invisibility Cloak … just in case."

Harry extracted the cloak from James' trunk with some difficulty, trying not to show Dumbledore the mess within. When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished. "Now I believe you wanted to catch your brother up James?" Dumbledore chuckled. "We have a bit of a ways to walk."

James nodded and looked at Harry. "Before we go to the Burrow we're going to help Dumbledore with a matter of something or other, like he said in the letter. Umm… Sirius's will has been found and we… he left everything to us. The house, money, Buckbeak—err Witherwings… and Kreacher." James said cautiously frowning at the sadden expression on his little brother's face. "I decided to give the house to the Order of Phoenix, it's either that or let Bellatrix Lestrange have it and we both don't want that, Kreacher's going to work at the Hogwarts kitchens with Dobby and Witherwings is going back to Hagrid."

"He'll be very happy with that," Harry said smiling.

"That he will," James nodded. He glanced at Dumbledore who was walking ahead of them and leaned towards Harry "Did you pack your journals?" he asked.

"I did. I have all of them in my trunk," Harry said.

"Good," James sighed. "And my weights?"

"Muggle-made and wizard-made," Harry said slightly annoyed. "I swear you and Ron are a bit obsessed with those."

"Don't tell me you don't like the results," James chuckled.

"I do but still they're heavy!" Harry whined.

James chuckled again and looked at Dumbledore. "One last thing," he whispered. "I'm sure you noticed but Dumbledore's hand… it changed."

Harry looked at Dumbledore's hand and wondered how he could have missed it. His hand was blackened and shriveled' it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

"Sir—what happened to your—"

"Later Harry," Dumbledore said. "For now, how are your scars… has it been hurting at all?"

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark, James was doing the same thing.

"No," James said, "and I've been wondering about that, we thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort's getting so powerful again."

They glanced up at Dumbledore and saw that he was wearing a satisfied expression.

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings both of you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Well I'm not complaining," James said. "Are you Harry?"

"Nope."

Dumbledore stopped at the end of Private Drive. "Neither of you have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said. "So, you will need to hold onto my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind—as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Harry gripped Dumbledore's proffered forearm, James placing his hand over Harry's with a stronger grip. Harry felt Dumbledore's arm twist away from him and redoubled his grip' the next thing he knew, everything went black' he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then—

He gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. He, James, and Dumbledore were now standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. His comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he and James had just Apparated for the first time in their lives.

"Right this way then," Dumbledore said setting off in a brisk pace. James and Harry looked at each other before following him.

"Sir? Where are we?" James asked.

"A charming little village called Budleigh Babberton."

"And what are we doing here?" Harry asked.

"Ahh yes I haven't told either of you," Dumbledore said. "Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts. … Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear." Dumbledore stopped suddenly.

Harry and James almost walked into him. They reached a front gate and Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

"Wands out and follow me," Dumbledore said quietly.

He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, Harry and James at his heels.

"Lumos."

Dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room.

The room was utterly destroyed: a grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet; a piano was on its side its keys strewn across the floor; a fallen chandelier glittered nearby; cushions slashed open their feathers oozing from their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry's small intake of breath made Dumbledore look around.

"Not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

James looked at the wallpaper and took a step closer to it. Harry watched as his brother stared at the darkly red substance, his wand held close to it as he frowned. "James," Harry hissed. "What are you doing?"

"This ain't blood," James said looking at Harry and Dumbledore. "I mean it's blood but it's not human's."

"Really?" Dumbledore said quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side. "And what do you suppose it is?"

"Dragon's blood," James said. "Charlie gave me a vial of it for Christmas last year!"

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said, straightening up again.

Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. It hurt."

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please," said the other.

James and Harry reunited in the center of the room as the two old wizards stood back to back and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion. "Please tell me you didn't get any of that stuff on you," Harry groaned at his brother.

"What? The dragon's blood? No… but I would love to at least take a little of it," James chuckled. Harry glared at him and the older twin said "What? That is an incredibly rare ingredient Harry. Charlie almost lost an arm getting it for me."

"By the sound of it you would have drank it all," Harry muttered. "That or find some way to mix it into a cup of pumpkin juice."

"I would never," James said. "Just because you're ruddy at potions doesn't mean you have to be jealous of my natural abilities Harry."

"Dick."

"You still love me."

"Unfortunately," Harry sighed.

The wizard set a bottle on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that his gaze fell upon Harry and James.

"Oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to their foreheads and the lightning-shaped scars they bore. "Oho!"

"These," Dumbledore said, moving forward to make the introductions, "are James and Harry Potter. James, Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn turned to Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."

He pushed past Harry and James, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" Dumbledore asked. "For old time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated. "All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled at the twins and directed them toward a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Harry and James kept to themselves as the two old wizards talked with each other.

"Why do you think he wanted us to be here?" James asked.

"I don't know," Harry whispered, "but something must be wrong if this is the welcoming we received."

"True," James said. "But at least after this we'll be at the Burrow again, and we can eat all of Mrs. Weasley's food."

"I hear you," Harry said. "I'm starving. Especially since some lout decided to eat all of the Cauldron Cakes I've hid." He threw a light glare at his brother.

"I'm a growing man Harry," James smirked. "Besides I have to be strong to protect my little brother."

"By stealing my food? You know the Dursleys barely feed us," Harry said.

"Couldn't resist love," James shrugged, smirking at Harry's attempt at an angry glare. "Don't look at me like that, it makes me think you don't love me."

"You know I do, I just hate it when you steal my only food. That was supposed to last me for weeks!" Harry hissed.

"At least we're heading to the Burrow so it all worked out," James said. "Besides do you really think I would let you stare? You know I would have stolen food from Dudley if I needed to."

"I know," Harry sighed. He turned his attention to Dumbledore and Slughorn who were still talking.

"—Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur head," Dumbledore said. "I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a hoard of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds.'"

"That's what she did, did she?" Slughorn said. "Idiotic woman. Never liked her."

Harry and James chuckled and both Dumbledore and Slughorn looked around at them.

"Sorry," James said. "It's just—we didn't like her either."

Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly. "Are you leaving? Slughorn asked at once, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom," Dumbledore said.

"Oh," Slughorn said, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had closed behind him, there was silence. After a few moments, Slughorn got to his feet but seemed uncertain what to do with himself. He shot a furtive look at the twins, then crossed to the fire and turned his back on it, warming his wide behind.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you two," he said abruptly.

Harry merely looked at Slughorn. Slughorn's watery eyes slid over Harry's scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

"You two look very like your father."

"Yeah, we've been told," James said.

"Except you got your—"

"Mother's eyes, yeah," Harry had heard it so often he found it a bit wearing.

"Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added, in answer to Harry's questioning look. "Lily Evens. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too. However… is it true that one of you have fought a Basilisk in Hogwarts? I've heard so many tales in the paper. Finding the Philosopher's Stone, fighting Basilisks, entering into the Triwizard Tournament and now this situation with the Department of Mysteries."

"That was me," Harry said. "I fought the Basilisk… James was in the Triwizard Tournament…" Harry looked over at his brother for help. James just nodded and frowned. "We were both in the Ministry of Magic that night," he said. "And the stone was both of us as well…"

"I see," Slughorn hummed. He looked at the set of photographs on the wall and said "All ex-students of mine, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes—a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back—you'll see her if you just crane your neck—that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyheads Harpies. …People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies and free tickets whenever I want them!"

The thought seemed to cheer Slughorn up.

"You know… you don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," Harry said. "Most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them has ever been killed—well, unless you count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort!"

Harry had been sure Slughorn would be one of those wizards who could not bear to hear Voldemort's name spoken aloud and was not disappointed: Slughorn gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which caused James to snicker.

"The staff are probably safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster' he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" Harry went on.

"My twin's right," James said.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore," Slughorn muttered grudgingly.

Dumbledore reentered the room and Slughorn jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the house. The two began to talk again and Harry barely noticed as James stood and examined the multiple photographs again, staring intensely at two of the photographs in particular.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," Dumbledore said, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell gesture. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes …. Well ….very gracious…. As I say …"

"Good bye, then."

"Bye," Harry and James said. They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," Slughorn said impatiently. I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

They left the house and set off down the garden path. Turning the corner Dumbledore looked at both of them and said "Well done Harry, James."

He instructed the boys to grasp his forearm again and Harry felt his brother's tight warm grasp on his hand again before the tight claustrophobic sensation of Apparition. When he regained the ability to breathe again Harry saw that they were standing in a country lane looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of the Burrow. Harry's spirits lifted when he saw it. Ron was there! And so was Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he knew…

"If you don't mind, boys," Dumbledore said, as they passed through the gate, "I'd like a few words with you two before we part. In private. Perhaps in here?"

Dumbledore pointed toward a run-down stone outhouse where the Weasleys kept their broomsticks. Puzzled the boys followed Dumbledore, Harry glancing at James who kept patting his pocket. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I'll show you when we're inside," James said with a grin on his face. Harry blushed but nodded. In the broom closet Dumbledore smiled down at the books. "I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, Harry, James, but I am pleased and a little proud at how well you seem to be coping after everything that happened at the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Sirius would have been proud of you both."

Harry swallowed; his voice seemed to have deserted him as his mind went back to every night since that event. He remembered every night he couldn't breathe, tears kept flowing from his eyes as a depressing sadness choked him night after night. He only found comfort from his brother's touches and kisses, his brother's lips on his cheeks and forehead as they held onto each other. Harry felt his brother's hand immediately over his own and squeezed it. James has always been Harry's rock. He couldn't even begin to imagine his life without his brother.

"Now onto the main reason boys why I want to talk with you," Dumbledore said. Harry looked up in shock. He barely realized that Dumbledore and James have been talking for five minutes. "It is my wish that you both take private lessons with me this year."

"Private—with you?" Harry asked speaking for the first time.

"Yes, I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your educations."

"What will you be teaching us, sir?" James asked.

"Oh, a little this, a little that," Dumbledore said airily. "Now before we part boys, just two things. Firstly, I wish you keep the Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me? Always stick together boys. We are in more dangerous times than I have imagined. Secondly, while you stay here, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconveniences to Arthur and Molly—al their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your necks while staying with them."

"We understand," James said.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said, pushing open the broom shed door and stepping out into the yard. "I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are Harry."

They followed Dumbledore and Harry looked at James as he ruffled through his pocket and pulled out two photographs. "Took these from Slughorn," James smiled. "It's mum…"

Harry looked at the first photograph in James's hand. His eyes went as big as saucers when he saw James was right. It was a picture of Slughorn and a few students and there, next to Slughorn, stood Lily Evens her red hair reaching her shoulders and her green eyes shimmering slightly as she smiled at the camera. "Mum…" Harry said.

"Yeah," James said. "And this one… I don't know why I took it, the boy in here… he just called to me. He's very handsome. Not as cute as you though Harry." He added a little smirk to fight off his blush.

Harry looked at the photograph and felt his heart drop. Though there were multiple boys in the picture as well as Slughorn himself in the middle, only one person drew the eyes to him. He was a handsome boy with dark eyes and hair. He had a mysterious look on his face, his lips pulled slightly upwards with a smirk that showed he was superior to everyone around him. His arms were at his sides and yet he held all the power in the photograph. Harry's eyes glanced up at James and then at Dumbledore who was at the door talking with Mrs. Weasley.

James was blushing as Mrs. Weasley ushered them in and closed the door after saying her goodbyes to Dumbledore. She made the twins sit at the table and turned to the stove to fix some food for them. "James," Harry whispered, his eyes glancing at Mrs. Weasley making sure she wasn't listening. His voice was fully of worry and fear.

"James, this is Tom Riddle… he's Voldemort!"

A/N: New story and take 2 on the twins thing! Just so you know there will be twincest mainly between good ol' Fred and George but Harry and James do share some kisses on their cheeks and forehead (as well as sleep mostly naked in the same bed). Also I'm beginning to love Harry learning the Dark Arts. It's fun! If you like the story consider giving a review, it'll motivate me to continue this lovely tale.