Chapter 21: Dinner with the Potters
It was on a sunny Saturday morning at the end of November - the weekend of the Quidditch match Slytherin versus Ravenclaw - that an owl came sweeping in through one of the high windows of the Great Hall and dropped a fiery red envelope directly on Harry’s plate, which was still filled with some scrambled eggs. Some of the yellow substance went flying onto Harry’s freshly laundered robes, which put a scowl on his face. However, the most alarming wasn’t the stained robes, but the smoke that was rising from the envelope.
“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron exclaimed worriedly, while earning a few reproving looks from the teachers around him. “Who’d send you a Howler?”
First now Harry really seemed to take notice of the nature of the letter and paled immediately. Harry Potter, Great Hall, Hogwarts was written in curvy letters on the envelope. The Howler was really for him. He looked around helplessly, as he wasn’t too keen on opening the Howler while he was still in the Great Hall with a large number of students present, whose gazes were slowly drawn to the staff table. Ron’s loud voice hadn’t helped much to keep a low profile during this.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered to him, a note of urgency in her voice, as if she feared what would happen, if he ignored the envelope. “You have no other choice.”
Swallowing hard, Harry exchanged one last glance with his best friends, the whole time pointedly ignoring the amused smirk Draco was giving him and the curious looks and snickers of the students in the Great Hall, before he picked up the Howler. Come on, it can’t be that bad, Harry tried to calm himself. This can’t be worse than facing Voldemort! With a deep breath, he slit it open.
Immediately Harry remembered just why exactly he detested Howlers that much, as the deafening yells of a female voice filled the Great Hall, almost bursting his eardrums.
HARRY POTTER! FOUR WEEKS! ALMOST FOUR WEEKS WITHOUT A WORD FROM YOU! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? HAVE YOU ALREADY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE INVITATION? WELL, I’M STILL WAITING FOR YOUR ANSWER, SO YOU BETTER MOVE YOUR LAZY BUM AND OWL ME BACK! I’M SURE YOUR PARENTS MUST HAVE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! OH, I’M SURE THIS HAS TO BE YOUR FATHER’S FAULT! IRRESPONSIBLE… WELL, WHAT ARE YOU STILL WAITING FOR? DINNER WILL BE SERVED AT SEVEN TONIGHT, SO YOU BETTER BE IN TIME! DON’T FORGET TO ASK YOUR FRIENDS, IF THEY WANT TO COME ALONG AND DON’T FORGET TO OWL ME HOW MANY YOU’RE GOING TO BE! I’LL BE WAITING!
Directly after the echoes of the last words began to fade, the red envelope burst into flames and curled into ashes directly above Harry’s breakfast. Harry’s hands were shaking a bit and he was still quite pale, but inwardly he couldn’t help the joyful warm feeling that spread through chest into his limbs. This was the first Howler he had ever received from his mother!
But still, her voice had sounded terribly frightening. And the reproachful tone she had used made him feel bad on the insides. Harry felt guilty. How could he have forgotten? He had, after all, promised his parents that he would talk to his friends about the invitation to dinner and then get back to them. This had been nearly four weeks ago. And he hadn’t written a single letter, let alone Floo called them. He knew that his excuse wasn’t a good one, but he simply hadn’t found the time to answer. There had simply been too much going on.
First, even after his speech, he had needed to restore his position among both students and teachers. It had been hard, still was at times, especially since that bloody reporter Montgomery kept the slandering articles about him and his friends coming. In his own time he had long given up on the Prophet and two weeks ago, he had even stopped reading it in this time. As long as Hermione kept him up to date with the most important happenings, he could save the Knuts for something better and definitely more useful than the Prophet.
Then there was still the aftermath of the attack on Hogsmeade. There were still some of the villagers living at Hogwarts and Harry and the other professors still helped in their spare time to help rebuild buildings and get life in the village back to something that resembled normal. It was hard work, but at least it helped. Soon the last wizards and witches could move back into their homes or new houses.
Harry also shouldn’t forget that he still had classes to teach, homework to grade and lessons to plan. The only positive thing that had come out of the attack on both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade was the newly won diligence of his students. Those, who he had convinced with his speech, and also others, who were still a bit wary around him, but still willing to learn, had improved drastically over the last few weeks. The fact that even Hogwarts wasn’t completely safe must have hit them hard. Be it first years or seventh years, Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, they all showed the strive to become better after they had seen what being at war meant, even though it had only been a small glimpse.
At last Harry had to deal with the almost daily quarrels between Ron and Hermione. The reason for those fights was rather obvious “ Hermione’s admirer, of whom she still didn’t want to divulge the name. Every time, when Ron saw Hermione wearing the necklace, he couldn’t refrain from making a scathing remark, provoking Hermione until Harry had to escape to his room and place a silencing charm around it to keep the yelling out.
He tried to stay out of it, he really did, but their behaviour was so extremely tiring. Even Draco was staying out of their way a lot more often than he usually did, hiding away in his office, his chambers or wherever he usually spent his spare time. Harry was sick of the shouting, so sick of Ron’s jealousy. This was his friend’s biggest problem. His jealousy had destroyed what he had with Hermione, even almost the friendship of the three of them, and it was still destroying so much. Sometimes Harry just wanted to snap at him to get over it, but it wasn’t his problem to deal with. This was between his friends.
Somehow, Harry thought, it would all be much easier for them, if Hermione hadn’t ever gotten the roses, never gotten the necklace and never met her admirer. Ron wouldn’t be jealous and Harry wouldn’t be drawn into it. But how could he so selfishly wish this, when he noticed how happy Hermione was? Ever since the Halloween Ball, there was usually a smile tugging at her lips. She appeared to be so carefree, her eyes were sparkling and she was in such a good mood all the time that it was almost scary. The only thing that still managed to dampen her mood were the constant fights with Ron.
Whoever this bloke was, he was helping Hermione through a hard time in a way which neither he nor Ron were able to. They were just her best friends, but the admirer truly seemed to be someone special. Seeing a genuine smile on his friend’s face meant so much more to him than caring who the bloke was or when and where they were secretly meeting, so as long as he continued making her happy, he wouldn’t give Hermione a hard time.
“Harry, mate, you still in there?”
“Wha”?” Harry was startled out of his thoughts and jolted back to the present, when Ron nudged him rather ungently. Ron, Hermione and Draco, as well as some other teachers and students were looking at him strangely and Harry realized that he must have been longer lost in his thoughts than he had thought. His eyes rested on his grey sprinkled breakfast and with a nervous chuckle ran his right hand through his hair. “So, uh, dinner at Godric’s Hollow tonight, huh?”
“Damn it!” Harry cursed, as he paced up and down in their common room. “Where is she?” He looked at the watch around his wrist and swore again. Their portkey to Godric’s Hollow was going to leave in fifteen minutes and Hermione still wasn’t back from wherever she had disappeared to directly after the Quidditch match “ which Ravenclaw had won 210 to 170. Even though she had sounded a bit annoyed, when they had asked, where she was heading, she had told them not to worry and that she would be back in time. But they had only thirteen minutes left and they still had to go to Dumbledore’s office.
“Most likely hidden somewhere, snogging, or worse even, shagging her secret admirer,” Ron spat.
Harry stopped briefly and just rolled his eyes at him, but kept quiet. He would give them a few more days and then he feared that he needed to step in, for their friendship’s sake. They needed to stick together, in their current situation more than ever, and somehow he needed to make Ron see this.
Just as Harry wanted to resume his pacing, the portrait to their common room swung open and Hermione hurried inside. “I’m sorry,” she said, slightly out of breath. A few strands of hair had fallen out of the bun at the base of her neck and her face was a bit flushed. Harry wondered silently, if Ron had been right with his assumption.
Suddenly, Hermione shoved a small parcel into his hands, which was wrapped in colourful decorated wrapping paper. “Uh, thanks, ‘Mione,” he said stunned.
Harry didn’t know what he had done wrong this time, when Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “This is not for you. It’s for your mother.”
“But… why?”
“Honestly Harry,” she replied, sounding slightly testy, as she pulled her hair-band out of her brown hair. “You owe her an apology and seeing as I knew that you wouldn’t think of buying her a small gift, I went to Hogsmeade this afternoon and bought this.”
Finally understanding the purpose of this small parcel in his hands, Harry heaved an obvious sigh of relief and flashed Hermione a grateful smile. “Thank you, ‘Mione. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Be glad that I thought of this, Harry Potter,” Hermione scolded him, while she was trying and failing to redo the bun with all strands safely tucked in the hair tie. “You wouldn’t want to make Lily angrier than she already is. Oh, this isn’t working!” With a huff, she pulled the hair-band out again and started anew.
Harry immediately put the parcel on the backrest of the couch and hurried over to her. “Wait, let me help you,” he said softly, as he took the band out of her hand and gently pulled her hair back before he began to work. “What did you get her?”
“Honeydukes Finest,” Hermione answered, wincing a bit, when Harry pulled a bit more forcefully at a few strands. “Lily once told me that she loves this collection of sweets.”
“Well, thank you again,” Harry said sincerely and, after having wrapped the hair-band one last time around the bun, finally let go of her hair. He examined his handiwork and eventually nodded satisfied. “Alright, there you go.”
Hermione’s right hand wandered to the bun in her neck and touched it to make sure that all was as it should be. When she noticed that Harry had indeed managed what she had been desperately trying to do, she turned around with surprise written all over her face. “How?”
Harry simply shrugged, but couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “You seem to forget that you’re not the only one who has to tame nearly untameable hair. However, we really should hurry now. We’ve got barely six minutes to get to Albus.”
A look of panic flitted over her face and Harry had to chuckle, as she was once again running to the portrait hole, while he was calmly taking the present for his mother, and Ron got up from his chair just as coolly. His best male friend still had a slightly suspicious look on his face, as he looked at Hermione, but Harry ignored it, as he followed her.
It must have been in record time that they reached the office, because they still had two minutes to spare. The three of them fought to catch their breath and Harry noticed, when he looked at the Headmaster, the at the moment quite infuriating twinkle in his eyes.
“Only three of you?” Dumbledore asked curiously.
“Yeah,” Harry answered with a grin tugging at his lips. “I believe Draco’s exact words were ‘The day that I have dinner with the Potters will be the day that I kiss a Mudblood.’” Fortunately they knew that, even though Draco could still be a right git, he didn’t use this expression as an insult anymore. He mostly only used it to rile Ron “ with success “ while Hermione wasn’t bothered by it anymore, actually only seeing it as a challenge to best Draco in one of their infamous verbal sparring matches. Those arguments were just as heated as the ones between Ron and Hermione and yet, Harry somehow felt that they were different. As mean as it sounded, he thought that Hermione and Draco fought on a different intellectual level, a higher and more challenging one. “Well,” Harry continued with a shrug, signalling to the Dumbledore that they weren’t bothered by the use of Mudblood, “I guess that means never.”
“Of course,” the Headmaster agreed; that bloody twinkle in his eyes had intensified about tenfold and Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore’s eyes had fleetingly left him and wandered to his left. Harry turned his head a bit, but it was only Hermione, who was standing there and she didn’t seem to have noticed anything. He shook his head inwardly. Must have been his imagination. Or maybe Dumbledore had only looked at her, because she was the only true Muggle-born among them. Whatever, maybe he should talk to his father about a suitable prank for Dumbledore to get back at him for this amused twinkle.
Suddenly, Ron cleared his throat. “Albus, the portkey?”
“Now, now, Ronald… No need to rush. You still have twenty seconds. Well, here it is.”
The three friends quickly took a hold on the old yellow rubber duck and just seconds later Harry felt the by now familiar, but still quite uncomfortable tug behind his navel and they were whisked away.
When they arrived, Harry was glad that most of the time Ron and Hermione remembered his little weakness concerning portkeys and supported him so that the didn’t land flat on his behind. He muttered a quick thanks and then looked up, absentmindedly straightening his robes and checking that he hadn’t crushed the present for his mother. Alright, the paper was a bit wrinkled, but otherwise it was still okay.
“Not bad,” Ron suddenly said, causing Harry to turn around.
He swallowed hard. The house in front of him was nothing like he remembered it “ the last and only time Harry had been there, it had been damaged almost beyond repair. This wasn’t the ruin he had seen then, but a warm looking home of a happy family. Surrounding the front yard was a brown wooden fence and the path leading up to the front door was paved with dark red stones. In the darkness, with just the pale light of the street lantern, he couldn’t see much of the garden, but he thought that it had to be wonderful. The house itself was actually quite normal looking, with red stones and brown window frames, not like the Burrow, but still as inviting.
This was supposed to be his home.
“Harry, come on,” Hermione urged him. “Or else we’re really going to be late.”
Harry took a step forward and hesitatingly opened the gate, before he stepped onto the path in the front yard. His throat began to feel dry, as he stepped up to the front door. What would await him behind this door? He couldn’t remember how it had looked like, when he had still been a baby.
Apparently sensing his unease, Hermione grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, before releasing it again. “We’re right behind you,” she mumbled, obviously wanting to encourage him to do this last step.
Harry took one more deep breath and raised his shaking hand to ring the doorbell. It was opened not even ten seconds later by his mother. Once again swallowing nervously, Harry offered her an embarrassed smile, which, to his great relief, Lily returned.
“Ah, there you are,” she greeted them and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, as he was about to walk past her, but a pointed cough from Hermione let him turn around. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked at him. Harry was confused for a moment, until he suddenly remembered the parcel in his hand. His cheeks were tinted slightly red, as he offered his mother the gift. “That’s for you…”
Lily was still smiling, as she took the parcel, but instead of looking at Harry, she looked at Hermione, as she said, “Thank you, Hermione. That’s really nice.” Harry’s blush deepened, but at least Hermione also had the decency to look a bit flustered. The young man really should have known that his mother wouldn’t believe that he had been that thoughtful, which was confirmed when Lily only muttered, “Just like his father…”
Harry lowered his gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling like an eleven year old, and mumbled, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have forgotten your invitation…”
Dismissing his apology with a wave of her hand, Lily grinned at him. “I know, you mentioned all that in your letter and your apology is accepted. Just, don’t let it happen again, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
With a sigh, Lily shrugged. “Well, I guess this is all I could expect from you, huh? Whatever… Now, what are we still standing here? Come inside… Harry, could you show your friends to the sitting room, please?”
Harry just stood there, frozen to the spot. Of course! How could he have forgotten this? His parents believed that he knew this house, that he had grown up in it. He barely noticed that his friends stepped inside and that the door was closed behind them. Lily was already giving him a strange look, so he needed a plausible explanation “ quickly! “Uhm…”
“Are you alright, Harry?” his mother asked, sounding concerned.
“Yeah,” he said, hoping that his parents would buy this story. “It’s just… I can’t remember this house. You moved… to the other side of the town, when I was still little.” And this wasn’t even a complete lie. The cemetery was on the other side of town and his parents had moved there, when he had been one year old.
“Really?” she asked surprised. “Well, there are some pretty houses, without doubt. But I never thought that we would move there, at least not that soon after having settled down here…” Harry noticed that she was looking at him closely and resisted the urge to flinch under her scrutinizing gaze. “Ah, well, I guess it doesn’t matter right now. The sitting room is down this hallway, second door to the left. James should be there, waiting for another guest.”
“Another guest?” Harry asked confused, but didn’t receive an answer, as his mother had already disappeared through another door. With a shrug, he exchanged a look with his friends and together they walked along the hallway and through the door into the sitting room, just in time as the fire in the large fireplace turned green and someone stepped through it, much more gracefully than Harry would ever be able to.
A smile appeared on Harry’s face, as the man straightened and he recognized the face of the young Remus Lupin. The two of them had never had the chance to finish their conversation from Halloween and Harry had somehow feared his reaction to the things that had been revealed then as well.
Harry watched the interaction between the two Marauders with a somewhat sorrowful smile on his face, as James greeted his old friend with a strong handshake and a brotherly hug. It saddened him to know that in his time, Remus was the only surviving Marauder.
“Splendid,” James suddenly exclaimed, after he had finally noticed, with the help of a grinning Remus Lupin, that Harry and his friends were standing in the entrance to the sitting room. “Good to see you again, Harry, alive, if I may say so…” Then, lowering his voice and looking suspiciously, he added, “I’m sorry about the Howler.”
Harry only chuckled. “It’s alright. It was my fault, after all. I’m sorry that I forgot, dad…” With a smirk on his face, Harry heard the sharp intake of breath behind him. He hadn’t told Ron and Hermione yet that Remus knew the truth. Their eyes met and it was all Harry could do to not burst out laughing, when he noticed the mischievous gleam in Remus’ eyes “ a gleam that explained, just how Remus had become one of the most infamous pranksters in Hogwarts’ history. “Hullo Remus.”
“Hello Harry,” Remus replied seriously, though Harry could tell that the seriousness was obviously faked. “Hermione, Ronald, it’s good to see you two as well. But, where’s your other friend?”
“He didn’t feel like coming along,” Harry explained, still not needing to turn around to know that his friends were still quite shocked. “I guess that he’s also still a bit angry at Hermione for once again winning a bet they had placed on the outcome of the Quidditch match today, so he wouldn’t have been good company anyway.”
Suddenly, James cleared his throat with a sly grin, getting their attention. “Harry, I believe Ron and Hermione will be ready to strangle you, if you keep up this act, so why don’t you explain already, why you’ve called me ‘Dad’ in front of Remus?”
“Alright,” he replied grinning. Turning to his friends, he simply said, “Remus figured it out, shortly after we arrived actually, but hadn’t had the chance to prove his theory until Halloween. But, I don’t know, when he told you that he knows…” he trailed off, now looking at James.
“Actually,” Lily now said from the doorway, “Remus told us only a couple of days ago and I’m sure you can imagine that we’ve also been quite surprised…”
“But we should have known that Moony would figure it out eventually. After all, you and I, Harry, we could pass for twins,” James continued, still grinning. “Well, Lils, what are you doing here? Is dinner served? I’m starving!”
“Five more minutes,” she answered and Harry knew that, if Lily were his wife “ a thought that he didn’t even want to entertain -, he would think that the tone of her voice was too sweet for his liking. “But you could show our guests to the dining room and then come to the kitchen to help me.”
Harry smirked, as he realized that he had been right, when James winced before leading them through the hallway to the dining room. The table was already set. Beautiful china was standing on a white tablecloth and gently burning candles were standing in the middle of the table. Harry sat down at the table with Ron and Hermione each at one side, when Remus sat down on one of the chairs across of them. His gaze wandered around the room and he smiled. He would have loved to grow up in this house.
Harry’s eyes landed on a small figurine of a ballerina standing on the windowsill and suddenly his eyes widened, as something that could only be a memory shot through his mind. “I blew that one up…”
A chuckle from the door tore him out of his thoughts, as Lily and James came through the door, both carrying some bowls and putting them on the table. “Not yet,” Lily said with a grin. “But thanks for the warning.”
Looking back to the figurine, Harry also allowed a grin to appear on his face. He didn’t remember much from his life with his parents, mostly the typical Dementor induced memories or the flash of green light, which weren’t all that pleasant, but to suddenly remember something as trivial as this made him happy. Maybe, maybe he would remember even more the longer he and the others stayed in this time.
After two more trips to the kitchen, the table was laden with a feast that could easily rival any feast at Hogwarts. His mother had truly outdone herself, Harry thought, as he piled heaps of roast pork and roast beef, chicken, potatoes, vegetables and other tasty food on the plate. For pudding, Lily had even prepared homemade vanilla ice-cream, a flavour Harry vaguely recognized from having stolen a spoonful from Aunt Petunia, when he had been younger. The fact that he had been caught and locked in his cupboard for two weeks as punishment was skilfully ignored on Harry’s part. This was a life he had left behind a long time ago.
All of them talked animatedly during dinner. Harry noticed happily that Ron and his father were discussing their favourite topic “ Quidditch of course “ to which Harry now and then threw in his two pennies worth, while Hermione, Remus and his mother talked about their time travel, which also proved to be very interesting, seeing as all of them seemed to have done some research by themselves and had some theories, though none of them could be proven.
Even after everyone was full, they remained seated and ignored the dirty dishes for now. It was fascinating to watch this and yet it hurt him to watch them getting on like this, knowing that in less than one year his parents would be dead and Remus all alone, because he believed one of his other friends to be dead and the other to be a traitor, serving his sentence in Azkaban. They didn’t know of their fates and Harry prayed that there was something he could do to change what was going to happen. If only Dumbledore’s theory were correct that they had already created a different timeline so that his would be untouched and he could do everything in his power to change this one for the better…
“Are you alright, Harry?” he suddenly heard his mother’s worried voice asking. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry could only nod and hope that his intended reassuring smile was convincing. Fortunately he was spared any more inquiring questions, because they suddenly heard a cry coming from upstairs. With a sigh, Lily rose from her chair. “Excuse me, please. I’ll be back in a minute…”
Along with her, James also got up and started to clear the table. He started to pile the plates, as Harry suddenly sprung up and helped him. James gave him a weird look, but didn’t stop him, for which Harry was grateful. He needed something to occupy himself with, even if this was just something as mundane as bringing the dishes into the kitchen. Following James into the kitchen, Harry noticed the different photographs, both wizarding and muggle, of his family, their friends and even his baby-self at the wall. There were so many pictures that he didn’t know, seeing as he only possessed the one photo album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts.
Harry and his father worked silently alongside in the kitchen for a few minutes, both of them lost in their thoughts, until Harry turned around startled, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His father was looking at him, his hazel eyes for the first time that night being completely serious. “Harry,” he said quietly, while throwing a quick glance at the door. “Before dinner, Lily told me something strange. She said you told her that, in your time, we moved to the other side of Godric’s Hollow. But I don’t understand this. Why should we do this? We are perfectly happy in this house.”
Harry sighed and turned his head away, avoiding his father’s eyes. “It’s… I can’t… I’m sorry…”
“Please Harry,” James almost pleaded. “I don’t think Lily will want to know, but I do. What is it? A Death Eater attack or something even worse?” Feeling his father stiffen at the lack of response he gave him, Harry looked up again and suddenly he noticed that his father’s eyes wandered to his forehead. “Voldemort…” James mumbled, musing aloud. “When he gave you that accursed scar… He came to this house, but why would he seek you out?”
Harry looked at him startled, but when he then saw the shocked expression on James’ face, he knew that he had just confirmed something of which James hadn’t even been aware that he had said it.
“He was after you… He didn’t attack you, because he was after us or because it was a coincident. No, he sought you out. Harry, why?”
“Are you boys okay in there?” Lily asked, as she stopped in the doorframe to the kitchen, holding a wide-awake baby Harry in her arms. Harry looked at the small boy, marvelling at the innocence in his eyes. He couldn’t remember, when he had been this innocent. It was too long ago.
“Of course,” James answered grinning. “Harry and I, we are just going to wash the last dishes. You and little Harry, you should go ahead to our guests…”
If his mother didn’t believe them, she didn’t show it, because she just gave them a grateful smile, before she returned to the dining room. Soon they heard some shuffling and Harry guessed that they were going to the sitting room, because it was more comfortable there.
First when they were sure that no one would listen to them, they, or rather James, picked up the conversation once again. “Why, Harry? Why would Voldemort want to kill you? It couldn’t just be to hurt us, because he knows that we’d rather die first before we let him harm you…”
“I’m sorry,” Harry only mumbled, shaking his head. “Dumbledore… He doesn’t want you to know, yet. But, you already figured it out, so I can tell you one thing. Yes, Voldemort was after me, but I can’t tell you when it will happen. It could change too much…”
Picking up another wet plate, Harry began to dry it, before placing it next to him on the counter and following the same procedure with the following dishes. Eventually, after having looked at him for a few long seconds, James also resumed his work. However, when all used dishes were clean and standing in their cupboards, Harry once again felt James’ eyes on him.
“Will you tell me, if Albus says that your actions in this time will have no effects on yours?”
Harry’s eyes met his and he nodded. “I will…”
For the next few hours Harry tried as good as possible to take an active part in the conversations around him, though he caught himself repeatedly, when he once again got lost in his thoughts. However, he noticed that his father seemed to have similar problems that not even a heated match of wizarding chess between Ron and Remus could completely disperse. Ron beat Remus in the end, though it had been a close call. Harry knew that Ron had truly enjoyed this challenge, seeing as neither he nor Hermione were able to defeat him.
Still, it was too soon for their taste that Harry, Hermione and Ron had to return to Hogwarts. Their return portkey had been set to depart at midnight and it was only a few minutes until it would be activated again. They all said goodbye to each other and Harry promised that he wouldn’t forget to write this time. He had learned his lesson, after all.
The three time travellers were standing in the front yard, all of them holding onto the rubber duck and waiting for the jerk behind their navels. Harry once again looked back to the door, where his parents and Remus were standing and, locking eyes with his father, nodded at him once, before they disappeared.
During his conversation with James, Harry’s resolve to make this time a better place, if Dumbledore’s theory about the different timelines was correct, had only strengthened. He would do everything in his power to give his other self, his parents and their friends a better future.