Disclaimer: Now, I love my readers, especially when they leave reviews, but I love them all anyway. But it's beyond me why I have to keep reminding them that I don't own any of these characters …
Throughout the night, Harry dreamt of the wizard prison on an island in the North Sea, so when he woke up, it was with a sense of foreboding. He wondered if the other Harry had ever encountered a Dementor. And if he had, what memories would he have been forced to relive? Harry's own tortures were centred around the deaths of his parents, but what would the other Harry, who'd had both of his parents and his godfather while he was growing up, see?
He didn't like to dwell too long on this; it seemed like invading someone else's life, so Harry sat up quickly and swung his legs out of his bed. He looked around his bedroom for his clothes, but saw that someone had removed his robes. He flinched. He didn't want to put on the other Harry's clothes, even now.
Instead, he padded downstairs in the pyjamas his parents had forced him to wear, and into the kitchen.
Only James was there this morning. He looked up as Harry walked in, and grinned.
'Sleep well?' he asked.
'Yes,' Harry replied, sitting down at the table opposite his father.
'Not too worried, then?'
Harry started. He didn't want his dad knowing he was having dreams about Azkaban; he might think Harry had a guilty conscience.
'Have you got a strong team, this time?' persisted James. 'Or are you just relying on what you've got?'
'Oh, Quidditch!' Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 'I'd forgotten about that.'
James looked at him in amazement. 'How can you forget about Quidditch?' he asked Harry incredulously.
'I've had rather a lot on my mind in the last few days, Dad,' Harry reminded him.
'Oh, right, so you have,' said James thoughtfully. 'I'd put that out of my mind. Just getting you back; so unexpected. I was dreadfully worried about your mother, you know. She's always been so strong, but she just crumbled. Finding out that she hadn't lost her son after all was the saving of her, I think.'
Harry looked at his knees. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't the son they had lost, and he wasn't sure they realised that. Not yet, anyway.
'So how is the team?' asked James again, snapping suddenly out of his reverie.
Harry, glad for anything to distract his dad from something he didn't want to talk about again, seized the chance.
'It's not a bad one, but it's been better,' he said, thinking disloyally of Ron. 'Everyone's left over the last couple of years, so I'm having to start from scratch.'
'Surely there are enough good Quidditch players in Gryffindor? Unless – you aren't in -' James spoke uncertainly.
'Oh, no, I'm in Gryffindor,' Harry assured him. 'But I can't find many top-class players. Chasers aren't a problem, but Beaters and a Keeper …'
Just then the kitchen door opened and a Sirius that looked much more like Harry's own stood framed in the doorway. His short black hair was stuck up all over the place, resembling Harry and James', his face was pale and he had bags under his eyes. He squinted at the two of them, and staggered towards the table.
'Too much firewhiskey,' he moaned as he sat down, his head in his hands.
'Cheer up, Padfoot,' laughed James. 'We thought you'd be complaining, so Lily's just gone to get some Tipple Tonic for you.'
'You two are too good to me,' mumbled Sirius from the table-top. 'NO! You're not!' he yelped and clutched his head as a loud crack made Harry and James jump. Lily appeared in the centre of the kitchen, clutching her peace offering, but with a mischievous grin on her face.
Sirius's headache had abated and the four of them were eating breakfast when James brought up the Quidditch topic again.
'So what time does the match start? Ten o' clock, as always?'
Harry nodded, his mouth full.
Sirius looked up at the clock on the wall. 'You'd better be quick then, Harry,' he said, 'you've only got an hour left.'
Harry nearly choked on his cereal and only just managed not to spit it out.
'What?' he croaked feebly.
'It's nine o' clock' said Sirius. 'You'll be late.'
Harry looked at him in disbelief. 'I – I'm not even going.'
This time it was James' turn to choke on his cereal.
'Of course you're going, Harry,' he said briskly. 'You're the Captain. And you told me yourself there's no one to take your place – you haven't got a replacement Seeker.'
'I don't care,' said Harry stoutly.
'Well, I do,' replied James irritably. 'If I remember correctly this is your first match with you as Captain; that's not a good example for you to set your team. And I don't want anyone saying that my son was not a good Captain, because I know you are!'
'Why should you care?' Harry fired back. 'You're not even there, no one knows you. No one can tell any of you how badly we played. None of you. You're all dead!'
Even as he said this, he knew it was wrong. He tried to stop himself saying it, but his mouth had disconnected itself from his brain. He heard Lily gasp, and he leapt from his chair, knocking it over, and ran from the room.
He was about to start up the stairs, but remembered that the cupboard door was there. He didn't want it forcing its presence on him, so he turned and let himself out of the front door, slamming it behind him.
He ran around the side of the house where the garden was and into the trees that surrounded it. He didn't want any of them following him. They would just make him go back.
He decided on a suitable tree, and swung himself up into its branches. He could just see the house from here – he didn't want to get lost – but they wouldn't be able to see him. He settled himself on a broad branch and leaned back against the trunk, staring up through the leaves above his head.
How could Sirius have said that? he thought, angrily. Suggesting that I go back to Hogwarts. Although they probably all decided it together, he reflected bitterly. They all want me to go back, so I don't disgrace the family name. Well, I haven't got a family name back there. I am the name. Not my dad, me.
He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't easy. He was horrified that he had said so bluntly that his own parents were dead, but even more horrified that they thought he could go back. What if the door shut while he was playing Quidditch? He would never see his parents again, and all for the sake of a game. He smiled slightly as he thought of what Ron would say if he heard Harry calling Quidditch a 'game'. After all they said to Hermione about it being so much more.
A game, Harry? PLEASE don't tell me you said Quidditch is just a game. That's like Moaning Myrtle saying she just lives in her toilet because there's nowhere else! In the whole of Hogwarts, for goodness' sake!
Harry laughed quietly.
'What are you laughing at?'
Harry jumped and looked down. Lily was stood at the foot of the tree looking up at him.
'Mum, I – didn't hear you,' he finished lamely.
He wanted to apologise – but how do you apologise for saying something that horrific?
'Are you coming down, or do I have to come up and join you?' she asked.
Harry shrugged but lowered himself down onto the bottom branch where he sat swinging his legs, staring at the ground.
'Harry, I want you to go back.'
Harry jerked his head up and looked his mother in the eyes. He saw she was being serious and closed his eyes, nodded.
'I understand,' he said miserably. 'I made my own bed as far as this is concerned. I shouldn't have said that, and I'm sorry. But I'm scared. I don't want to go back. What if I can't get back here? What if I can't come home?'
Lily laughed softly, and put her hands on her son's knees.
'Home, Harry?'
He looked up at her again, taking in her face, her eyes that were so similar to his that it felt like he was staring into a mirror. He saw the love for her son spilling out of them, felt it embracing him with its warmth, and thought how unfair it was. In one world, he had to suffer, in another his parents did. Why couldn't they be together?
'Yes, Mum, home.'
She smiled sadly. 'Your dad's right, you know, Harry. You can't leave your team. Your friends – Ron – they'll be worried about you. Only six people here know that you've come. The rest of our world thinks you're dead. You have to go back.'
'And – if I can't come back here?'
'At least you knew your parents, Harry. At least you got to say good bye.'
Will Harry leave his parents? Who will win the match if he does? What will James do if he doesn't? And will Moonbugg actually update again any time soon? You'll have to wait for that next chapter to find out!
Well, would you look at that. One whole year! A year today since I last updated … Where has it gone! I mean, I knew it was a long while ago, but that's verging on the ridiculous …
And I'm really sorry to all my faithful old reviewers. Believe me, I didn't like leaving you like that, but I just ran out of inspiration. You'll be pleased to know I'm back on track somewhat now, so you just never know …
18th November 2005