1

The funeral of Harry James Potter will be held on Monday at three o’clock in the afternoon, followed immediately by the funeral of Laura Hope Potter. Family and friends are encouraged to attend…

An angry sky glares down at James Potter as his eyes slowly flutter open. Black clouds and loud winds greet him into this new world. A fat drop of water spills from the ocean above and kisses James’s cheek. His eyes blink – close, open – and then he moans. His head is throbbing insistently, a steady beating rhythm in his head, one that matches his heart. As the wind whistles curses in his ears, James tries to recall where he is and why. His head gives a rather vicious throb in response and pain flashes in his eyes. Everything goes black and white for a moment.

‘What the—’ croaks James, characteristically using his first spoken breath to curse. It has become a habit of late. He struggles into a sitting position and is struck with a sudden bout of dizziness. Something warm and wet trickles down the back of his neck and into his shirt. James looks around through half-lidded eyes, still disoriented, as he reaches around to rub the back of his aching head. His fingers come back streaked with red.

He is sitting in a large, open field, which seems to find some great joy in breeding extra-long grass and extra thick shrubs. A few large trees poke out from the grass every few meters to complement the shrubbery, along with some intimidating boulders and a nervous-looking fence in the distance. Above him, there is a flash of lightning, as the sky gives one rumble, one warning, before emptying its buckets. James doesn’t even have time to run for cover. He is soaked through in seconds. Feeling that the situation cannot get much worse than it already is, he remains on his now swampy patch of earth.

For a while he just sits there in the rain, arms wrapped around his knees, head bowed slightly, watching the grass bend under the weight of the water. His back begins to ache too, his hair flaps around his head, strands occasionally poking his eyes. He ignores it all, simply trying not to think. There is a weight on his chest that he does not want to probe, a wound he does not want to pick at. For as long as he can, he wants to sit and not remember, not know, not think. Suddenly, he notices movement to his right. A piece of paper has been speared by a branch hanging out of the nearby bushes and is now flapping in the gale-force wind blowing.

James frowns at it for a moment and then stands up and walks over to the bush, managing to grab the paper just before the wind carries it away. He is about to examine it, when something else catches his eye: a satchel nestled in the shrubs. James lifts it up. The clasp has come loose and as the bag rises, the top flap falls open and out tumbles a book and another, thicker, larger piece of parchment. James bends down to pick them up, and as he does so, spots something white half-hidden behind the nearest tree. His brows contracts as he gazes at the blinding whiteness. It’s a dress. A girl stands, peering out from behind the tree, her outfit flapping in the wind, sometimes being swept high enough to reveal her knees; she doesn’t seem to care. She stares at James, her gaze carrying as much intensity as his. Her hair is tied back, James notices, but long wisps of it have come loose and flutter around her head, as white as her dress. James slowly straightens up, book and paper in hand.

Just then the wind changes direction and rain pelts James in the face. Gasping, he rubs his stinging eyes frantically, but when he turns back, the girl has gone.

All he has now is the satchel, its contents and the small piece of paper that he found flapping in the wind. His head aching even more now as he wonders where the girl could have vanished too, he looks down at the things in his hands. A history book, a map, and a slip of parchment with the words, “In Memory of Laura Potter – Beloved Wife�. The parchment is a scrap from a newspaper.

James pushes the book and map back into the satchel and closes the bag’s flap, making sure the clasp is tight this time. The slip of parchment still in his hand, he reaches up to his neck and feels the chain hanging there. A Time-Turner. He pulls it out of his shirt and studies at it for a moment, before slipping it back in. He remembers what he is doing here now, and why. He is going to save Laura. No matter what price he has to pay.

The thought makes the weight on his chest heavier and harder to bear. Images flash in his mind, but James pushes them away forcefully. He has no time to dwell on the past – or, in this case, the present. He will save her. And everything will be okay again.

It takes a moment to make himself believe it.

**

2

My dear Scorpius,
Today has been a very boring day. I can’t seem to find enough to keep me busy. I’ve done the washing three times over already… at least James will be happy. His white shirts really do look white this time.

I hate having nothing to do, Scorpius, because on those days I find myself mulling more and more over the past. How things might've have been different. James and I were pushed together by circumstances, in love yes, but young and silly. Maybe it was a mistake.

Sometimes I think my entire life is a mistake...

On the edge of the field, where the nervous little fence runs, James finds a dirt road. It is obviously well used and judging by the tracks on it, some sort of highway. Since he doesn’t recognize the field and can’t find it on the map of Britain that he has brought along, James decides to follow the road and see where it takes him. As he walks, the throbbing of his head lessening with each step, and his determination increasing, he flips through the history book. It took him hours to find it in his own time – he searched every bookshop in Diagon Alley – but he hadn’t wanted to leave without it. On the dyed leather cover is the title, A History of Time-Travel.

James knows very well, after hearing stories from his father and Aunt Hermione (Aunt Hermione especially seems loathe to let him forget the dangers) and working in the Department of Mysteries for two years, that time-travel isn’t something to mess with. The easiest thing to do while time-traveling is to take the wrong step, say the wrong word, do the wrong thing – next thing you know, you find yourself or your friends and family dead, or worse. Time is delicate and fragile and anything can tip the balance and send it spiraling out of control. So James searched for, and bought the book as a reminder. In case things get hard to handle he’ll always have a little something at his side, in his bag or pocket, but close by nonetheless, to make him think before he acts. Something that even he knows he isn’t very good at doing.

James is immersed in the thirteenth chapter of the book, not watching where he is walking, when he begins to hear sounds of life above the pitter-patter of the rain. Creaking, murmuring and banging. James looks up, stuffing the book back into his satchel and making sure that the Time-Turner is out of sight. Finally – he’ll be able to ask for directions now and get to Laura. His pace quickens at the thought.

As he half-walks, half-jogs down the path, his mind involuntarily finds its way back to his open wounds. He is surprised that as big as his hurts are, the pain does not bother him altogether as much as it should. Going through her letters, her prized possessions, the few personal belongings he didn’t know about, and finding what he had found… it had been a shock, it had hurt, but only for a moment. Now, when he thought of it, his heart clenched and his head hurt, but no tears came. No pain. Only anger. Deep, deep anger. The anger hurts. Not her loss. Not anymore, at least. Only the anger.

When the village comes into sight, James stops short. For a long moment he just stands there, in the middle of the road, baffled.

The village is a nice enough place, a few wooden buildings built close together and designed into various shops: a bakery, butchery, and a general store. In the distance James can see a mill of some sort. It is completely old fashioned but not completely odd to find a quaint, albeit out-of-date village like this in the middle of nowhere. Muggles and wizards alike build them. Muggles, to attract tourists, and wizards, because they are easy to build and don’t require extra “technology�. But what strikes James as odd are the clothes everyone is wearing. The men have on ruffled shirts and breeches, and occasionally a jacket-vest over the shirt or a pair of full trousers instead of short ones. Their fashions choices seem to depend on their class – whether they are in town to work or buy. The few women seem to be customers and are rather well-dressed, with full bustles, high necklines and full sleeves. The younger girls are wearing dresses too, but there are less bustles to be seen and the necklines are lower.

James’s hands jump to his own clothes. He had decided to wear something Muggle-ish because he and Laura lived in Muggle-area, and it seems like a terrible idea now. Even robes might have been better than what he has on now: a collared shirt with thin blue and white stripes on it and a pair of dark pants. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows and on his feet are a pair of trainers. And he has no hat.

What are these people doing? Are they in costume? From the looks a carriage driver is giving him, James doesn’t think their attire is costume at all – not to mention the fact that there is a horse-drawn carriage standing on the road. James stares around. He used the Time-Turner to go back a week, not a century! He knows it. The Time-Turner doesn’t just decide to take you somewhere you don’t ask it to. What is going on?

Feeling more gobsmacked than ever and slightly hot around the neck, a sign of impending anger, James ducks behind a nearby tree and pulls his wand out of his satchel. Fine, he’ll just have to change. He won’t be able to conjure the clothes out of this air, but he can easily make his present clothes look a little different. He taps himself with the wand a few times, peering around the tree every now and then to examine a particular detail of the men’s clothes. When he’s done, he feels like someone has grabbed him and poured plaster downs his shirt. The cloth is stiff, rough and unpleasant. The pants ride too high to be comfortable and began just above the navel. The vest is a bit tight and the hat is making his head hurt again.

Trying to take smaller breaths, James jumps out from behind the tree – and jumps right back behind it again/

He leans against the tree trunk, his chest heaving, his heart on a sprint. Damn it to hell! James thinks. He tries to calm down, and in an attempt to speed up the process, thinks of a few more colorful words.

He’s just seen Scorpius Malfoy, standing on the same road he has just travelled down, wearing clothes that, for the most part, match James’s. The only difference is the green vest with silver piping. And a matching hat, too! How original. James feels a sneer cross his lips.

Thinking fast, James creeps out from behind the tree and onto the porch of the nearest shop, which has a sign with the word INN hanging on a thin rod jutting out from the wooden wall. He pushes through the door - and is momentarily deafened. The noise is exceptionally loud and when James regained use of his ears he wonders why he didn’t hear it from outside – and then he catches sight of the barman. He is pointing a stick of wood at the wash basin, in which tins plates and cups are clinking together merrily. At a table two men are arguing in loud voices and James is sure he hears the words “the Chudley Canons� a few times. James’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron.

It is as James remembers it – almost exactly like the one in his own time. It almost feels like he never even used the Time-Turner. The thought makes James’s heart clench. He doesn’t want to go anywhere near home and his own time until he puts things right. He has to put things right. He will have his answers. His fist clenches the small slip of parchment with Laura’s name on it even tighter. He’s been holding it ever since he found it on that bush. As he squeezes the paper, almost wishing it would crumble into dust, a light flashes before his eyes—

The glass panes lit up with a sudden unearthly light - a figure was swinging to-and-fro just below the hay loft – a door banged somewhere in the distance – a scream, the keening of heartbreak—

‘Mate, you all right?’

Someone sets a hand on his shoulder and James jumps a foot, gasping.

‘You okay?’ repeats the man. He has a brown beard and shining eyes and is smiling softly at James. James manages a nod. The man pats him strongly on the back and nods. ‘Stay all right,’ he says and then walks off to the bar. Bar. James shakes his head again. He is in the Leaky Cauldron, in the past. Of course. The past would have a Leaky Cauldron. He used the Time-Turner to go back one week – and one week back he has gone. Perhaps the Leaky Cauldron has a second entrance, that’s all. An entrance from a deserted road. And today must be some sort of special day, because everyone is dressed very funny – yes, that’s all. A special day.

Feeling very wrong-footed, heart still beating in the region of his throat, James looked around the inn again and registers that even the wizards and witches weren’t wearing robes. Or at least not proper robes – some had long coats on over their shirts and vests… but so what? He has gone back one week. He has. That is all. Nothing strange.

‘Well, look what the Kneazle dragged in!’

**

3

My dear Scorpius,
Your visits are the highlight of my day, though I’m sure you’ve figured that out for yourself by now – otherwise, why would you make it a point to come everyday? James doesn’t suspect anything, and even if he did, there isn’t any harm in your visiting, is there? You were always around here anyway, before James started working like a house-elf…

James cringes. There is no mistaking the smooth voice of Scorpius Malfoy. Spinning around, James finds himself face to face with the man. Anger, fury, hatred rises in him at the sight of the blond hair and gray eyes and the small smile.

‘What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?’ he snarls, backing away from Scorpius and hitting a table. The pub is suddenly louder than it was been before – the customers know the rules of life – what they didn’t hear, they didn’t witness.

Scorpius raises his hands, palms out, to chest height. ‘No need to get excited, James.’ His gray eyes are filled with sudden confusion.

James feels behind him on the table, looking for something to throw. His fingers find the cold metal of a tin cup. ‘I said what are you doing here, Malfoy?’ James feels no pity for Scorpius. Not one part of his heart can make itself care about Scorpius. Anger rises in James again, and it hurts, and all James wants is for Scorpius to feel that pain.

Scorpius steps forward, hands still raised, speaking over the deafening noise of the crowd. ‘What happened to plain old Scorpius?’

‘You son of a—’ begins James, pushing off from the table to launch himself and his little tin cup at Scorpius Malfoy. James wants to hurt him, hurt him for coming here and trying to stop him, hurt him for… for destroying everything. He wants to see the blood on Scorpius’s pale face and know that he, James, has caused him that pain. At the last second James stops himself, almost nose to nose with Scorpius, whose hands were still up and out, almost touching James’s chest. James has seen the bartender moving towards the door. He takes a small step back, chest heaving, and growls under his breath, ‘I’ll only ask this one more time: what on God’s green earth are you doing in this place?’

Perhaps Scorpius hears the death threat in James’s tone, perhaps not. But he replies, ‘Looking for you. Now it’s your turn. What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

James wants to raise his hands to the heavens and scream but he knows that would give the panicky bartender the excuse he needs to go tell the Ministry of Magic that some hooligan is harassing his customers. So instead, James turns away from Scorpius and flops down on chair of the table he bumped into moments ago. Scorpius looks around at the bartender and gives him a reassuring nod before taking the seat across from James.

‘Well?’ he asks.

James eyes the ceiling. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’

‘I haven’t a clue. Enlighten me, why don’t you?’

James meets Scorpius’s eyes and leans forward in his chair. ‘You bloody well know I’m here for Laura. Don’t act innocent around me!’

Scorpius matches James’s movements and then rests his arms on the table. ‘Laura is dead, James. There is no way to bring her back.’

‘Bullshit,’ hisses James. ‘Don’t try to feed me your lies, Scorpius; I’ve known you much too long to believe you when you’ve got that look on your face.’ James doesn’t add that saving Laura is not the point – getting to her is.

‘Are you completely barking, James? You used to work in the Department of Mysteries; don’t you have any idea of what can happen when you mess with time?’ Scorpius exclaims, looking like he wants to grab James and shake him hard.

‘Oh, I know very well what can happen, and I have taken every precaution in the book to make sure nothing goes wrong. I’ve had to plan this.’

Scorpius stares at James, leaning back into his chair again. His gray eyes are filled with confusion and pity.

Fury raises its head in James’s chest. He doesn’t need pity, he doesn’t want it. Especially from this man sitting in front of him, this liar. He suddenly wants to say something cruel, something that will send Scorpius reeling, give him, James, time to escape. He is wasting time here – he must find Laura.

A man in an apron walks by and something bright flashes in James’s eyes, again—

Voices, upstairs? ‘Where have you been, Laura, I’ve been waiting for hours – did you come in through the window?’ Her clothes were ruffled; she was standing by the window. ‘I’ve been here,’ she said, breathlessly. He joined her at the window, seeing something in her face, and peered down into the night…

‘James?’ Scorpius’s voice drifts into James’s mind. ‘You okay, mate?’

James blinks and shakes his head. ‘What was that flash?’ he asks, looking around.

Scorpius looks at him, concern written all over his face. ‘The light.’ He points up at a bulb hanging from the ceiling, a few feet above them, a small bronze chain dangling down from it. ‘Someone just turned on the light. Are you sure you’re all right?’

James ignores him. The concern on Scorpius’s face seals James’s decision. As much as it will hurt him to just say it, he wants too much to see Scorpius’s reaction when he does. His anger changes from hot fury to cold hatred.

‘So,’ he begins. ‘How long?’

Scorpius looks back at him, deadpan. ‘How long – what?’

‘How long had it been going on,’ James replies, nonchalant. ‘You know – just an estimate.’

‘James, what are you on about?’

James looks up, narrowing his eyes. ‘I just told you Scorpius. Don’t act innocent. It doesn’t suit you.’

‘Have you completely lost it?’

James’s voice drops from a whisper, to a breath. Scorpius leans closer to hear. ‘Oh, come on now,’ James said quietly, almost kindly. ‘I know what I’m talking about and so do you Scorpius.’

When Scorpius’s face began to look permanently bewildered, James sighed and supplied, ‘She was having an affair. Laura. And you knew about it, didn’t you? Of course you did.’ James laughs. ‘Of course. Because you were the second party, weren’t you. Oh, no, no, no. Don’t try to lie to me Scorpius. I’m not an idiot, despite the fact that you and Laura seem to have done your best to play me for a fool.’

Scorpius is sitting completely still now. So still that James wonders if someone has put the full Body-Bind on him. They stare at each other for a long time, gray eyes meeting blue.

‘We – we - we,’ begins Scorpius, but James cuts through his words.

‘If you lie to me Scorpius Malfoy I’ll know exactly how much you value our friendship. We’ve been mates since Hogwarts. I hope you remember.’ His voice is flat now. He feels empty, used up. Nothing Scorpius says now can surprise him.

‘Let me finish, James,’ replies Scorpius. His hands are back in his lap and from the way his arms are moving, James suspects he is wringing his own hands. ‘We… never meant it to go so far… I…’ He seems unable to go on.

Instead of anger, fury, hatred, all of the emotions he has been feeling ever since he found out, James feels only disappointment now. He finds the disappointment more painful than the anger. Laura… What had she done – what had she done to him – how could she have – he loved her so much… And Scorpius - in him James found a friend. He can't remember a time in his life when Scorpius wasn't at his side as a confidant. How can James forgive this?

Taking deep breaths, feeling lightheaded again, as if he has cracked his injured head on something else, he repeats, ‘How long?’

Scorpius bit his lip, looked down at his lap, didn’t meet James’s gaze. ‘Years.’

James looks down at the table. There is a drop of wax from a candle sticking to the wood. It mocks him in the shape of a heart. He looks back up at Scorpius. ‘Just tell me one thing. Is Deben mine?’

Scorpius gazes at his old friend and shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’

Dearest Scorpius,
James has finally received that promotion he’s been working so hard for. Basically all it means is that he’ll be at home even less now. Once upon a time, I would have cared. Now, there is nothing in him for me. He hardly even looks at me anymore.

The flowers you sent me were beautiful. I have them in vases all over the house. James didn’t even notice. Two years. Have “you� and “I� been “we� for that long already?

**

Beloved Scorpius,
I’m pregnant. I don’t know what to do…

Outside, it is still pouring rain. Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance after a bright flash of electricity. The fence lining the road on the left is moaning in the wind, blades of grass pasted to its wood by the storm. Dust on the road billows and swills in the air.

James’s teeth are chattering unabashedly, resisting all of his attempts to keep his jaw as still as possible. His breath rises in huge puffs of white in front of him, as he stuffs his hands in his armpits, trying to keep warm. Scorpius’s voice rings in his mind, a sickening mantra: James, please! I’m so sorry, I never meant it to go so far, I’m sorry. James, please…If there was anything I could do!

“Sorry�. What does he think? That one word will mend what he has spent so much time breaking?

His best friend. His wife.

The sound of James’s every step is magnified. His shoes thump repeatedly on the packed-dirt road – he wishes they would not. The crackle of branches and leaves under his feet is deafening. James imagines it sounds like trees being uprooted during a landslide. He can still hear the sounds of town from behind – the wind carries them far and wide in the open spaces.

James lifts his head and stared at the heavens as he walks. Rain drips steadily from the sky. Drops of it splatter onto his face and run down his cheeks and neck like tears. James closes his eyes. There is no danger on the road ahead – no danger he wants to avoid – so there is no reason to keep watching. With every step the Time-Turner hidden beneath his shirt bumps gently against his bare skin – a reminder of his mission, a gentle reprimand. He should not be walking aimlessly like this down a road, without any idea of where he was going or why. His heart beats gently in his chest, unconcerned.

Is there any point in looking for Laura anymore?

She was cheating on him.

James’s throat constricts but he ignores it, and the pounding in his head.

She is dead anyway. He wouldn’t be able to save.

And the fact of the matter tugs at his heart – he was not going to save her. That hadn’t been his initial plan. He wanted answers and the only way to get them was to go back and find Laura before her death… and confront her. Now… Scorpius has given the answers, hasn’t he?

Of course, one question remains.

Deben Potter.

James thinks of his young son. Beautiful was James’s first thought at their first meeting. Beautiful beyond any doubt. Blond hair, eyes as blue as the night sky… James had never before seen any being so magical. And the crux of his happiness was because, of course, this small bundle of splendor was his.

But is he? Is Deben a Potter? Or a Malfoy? And does he, James, even want to know?

Right now, at this moment, he can return home, to Deben. And Deben will still be his son, because he does not know otherwise.

And yet, there will always be that question in his heart. He knows it. The mystery will ruin his life, and Deben’s. And when Deben grows up and begins to question his father, begins to ask about his mother, what she was like, was she beautiful, wonderful, magical… what will James tell him then?

Is it better to find out?

Or not?

Or should he just take the next step and save Laura?

Deben would never have to ask any questions.

He could make things better.

But is it possible? Can he save her? James doesn’t think so. In the deepest corner of his heart, he doesn’t believe that he can save her.

Doesn’t believe that he wants to, leastways.

James opens his eyes, looks straight down the road again. No, he wouldn’t be able to save her – especially not from here. Wherever here was.

Something in James’s heart whispers in his ear, says that his insistence that Laura can not be saved stems from what he knows about her now… “It is amazing how one revelation can change your love for a person into insatiable hatred� whispers the voice. James tries to ignore it. He looks around as his walks, trying to take his mind of that voice and what his heart it trying to tell him.

And then, there she is. Again. The girl in the white dress. James comes to a screeching halt and turns to stare at her.

She looks a little different from when he saw her last, a few hours previously. Her hair is slightly more windswept, and her dress more mud-spattered on the hem – but her face is the same. She is watching him again. Without knowing why, James finds himself drawn to her. She seems to glow white, and James is gripped with a sudden urge to find out who she is. He walks towards her, but at that moment a yell rises from the road. James stops and looks to his right: a horse-drawn carriage is hurtling down the street, its driver shouting manically at James to get out of the way, doing his best to be heard over the wind. James stumbles backwards just in time and manages to remain in once piece.

The carriage sweeps past, the driver shouting profanities of the highest order, all directed down at the young man who was standing on the road, but James ignores him. For a moment he keeps his eyes down, afraid that the girl has vanished again, like last time – but when he looks up, there she is – closer than ever. James can hardly breathe, and he has no idea why – she looks so familiar, but he feels sure he has never met anyone like her before.

She cocks her head to one side, blinks – and for the first time James registers the color of her eyes: the lightest, most transparent blue he has ever seen. As James watches she raises her hand, saying something that he can’t hear over the wind. Her fingers move like she is twisting something—

And lightning flashes across the sky. A magnificent, blinding bolt of it, right behind the girl, and James cries out and raises a hand to shield his eyes. He stumbles backwards—

‘James?’
‘Hmm?’
‘I love you – you know that, right?’
James looked up at his wife – he saw nervousness in her face. ‘Of course, Laura.’ He was bewildered, but he had no time for it – he was busy. Laura opened her mouth and said something, but he was already in the next room, and only heard a murmur. He thought about going back to see what she had said – but no, he was behind in work – too much to do…

…A glinting, gold hourglass on a chain. James fingered it, wondering if he dared to use it. There was a book in his other hand – he glanced at it. Only a few turns in the right direction and he would be back, two weeks ago. James lifted the hourglass to the light – and suddenly there was a knock on the door. He jumped, the hourglass slipped and James managed to catch it in the palm of his hand just in time.
‘James?’
Scorpius – James’s stomach clenched – Scorpius would convince him out of it – now or never. James set the book down on the floor, flipped a few pages to recheck the method – and Scorpius barreled through the door. James jumped, the Time Tuner jarred in his palm.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted Scorpius.
James grabbed the Time-Turner in his fingers and frantically turned it – not looking, only counting. By the time Scorpius got to him, there was only air in his place—

James falls back, his head striking the fence behind him hard. For a long time, he just lies there, eyes closed, head renewing its enthusiastic throbbing. The girl – the lightning – the flashback… the girl. He understands now.

At least, understands why he is here - and not where he is supposed to be:

He twisted the Time-Turner in the wrong direction. He didn’t go back days – but decades, maybe centuries.

Dearest Scorpius,
Help me. Tell me what to do!

I told James today about the baby. He was ecstatically happy. One revelation has changed him so much. His eyes are bright now.

Tell me what to do.

**

Lightning flashes again, a zigzag of electricity across the clouds, as if the sky is cracking right over his head. Rain drips on James’s face, into his eyes, making him blink sporadically. As he stares straight up at the steadily darkening sky, lying on the muddy earth, feeling wet and hurt, and wondering why, why, why everything went so wrong, his heart clears. All delusions he has been harboring, trying his best to trick himself and the world around him, disappear.

It began with his godforsaken job at the Ministry. First Department of Mysteries, to prove his excellence in spellwork. Two years later, Magical Law Enforcement. Then, Head of the Department. Make a difference in the world, he thought. Stop those criminals, he thought. And being Head of Magical Law Enforcement was a ticket to the seat of Minister of Magic. People liked a protector. James worked his ass off getting promoted and after the promotion, he worked his ass off trying to impress the people. Them, he may have impressed.

His wife and family, he wasn’t so sure about.

He married Laura after Hogwarts. She hadn’t attended, being a Squib, but she had always lived close to the Potters and James spent his first year of life playing with her due to lack of siblings. When Albus came along, Laura took a backseat in friendship.

As a teenager, he rediscovered her, but not in friendship. In romance. She blossomed over the years into a shy, quiet, yet stunning young woman and it hadn’t taken James long to fall in love. Their marriage had been quick, their happiness excessive.

And then James’s job. Long hours, short visits home, few kisses, less intimacy every day.

Of course she went to Scorpius. As James’s best mate, Scorpius was always over at their house before James’s job had begun. And James never stopped him from visiting. Laura and Scorpius were friends too. But of course, with James’s lack of presence, their relationship had flourished and bloomed into something more than platonic.

And of course, how could he blame her? How could he?

There were glances at work. Suggestive looks. Flirtatious words. Near misses. And not because he was loyal to his wife, not because he was afraid of breaking her heart, but because he didn’t have time. Not because he wouldn’t have, but because he couldn’t.

And it hadn’t stopped at neglecting his wife. His family suffered. His father died with only Albus and Lily at his side, died young from a wound he had received during a fight, a wound that every single moronic Healer had said would be fine. A wound that was under no circumstances, fatal. And yet, it slowly killed him. Painfully. With Healers standing around him, agape and confused. Healers, and Albus, Lily, Ginny and the Weasleys. But no James.

Thunder now. The storm is moving away.

He can’t blame Laura.

He is worse. He is at fault. Had he thought for one moment, used his head, stopped trying to live up to Harry Potter’s legacy, stopped thinking that if he were Minister for Magic, everyone would forget that it was Albus who looked like Harry and not James, that it was Albus who acted like Harry and not James. Everyone would forget to do a double take when he said his name and say, “You don’t look anything like your father�, or blink when they saw his Defense Against the Dark Arts marks and say, “Your father excelled in this subject�, that everyone would forget who he wasn’t, and realize who he was. If he had stopped all that, everything would still be okay.

Harry Potter wouldn’t have died with only one son and his daughter at his side.

Scorpius wouldn’t have gotten involved with Laura.

Laura would still be alive.

Everything would still be okay.

As the rain subsides, and night falls, James curls up on the swampy earth and wishes he could cry. Tears refuse to come. He doesn’t deserve them.

**

The next day dawns just as gloomy as the last. James wakes with a severe backache and a throbbing migraine. For a long time he just lies where he is, thinking.

The cloud of lies has finally dissipated. He can’t bring them back now, even though he wants to. Hiding behind them had been easy. Now he feels naked, his own faults staring him straight in the eyes.

So much of what has happened is his fault. And though he doesn’t know why Laura ended her life so suddenly, he suspects that too is his fault. He is the reason a beautiful young woman lost her life, the reason an infant child is now motherless. The reason a father could not leave this world in peace.

If he can save Laura, he can fix some of his mistakes. He can give her, her life back, give Deben his mother back.

In the end, he cannot use her mistakes against her. Because his mistakes are worse. If he had just been a good husband. If he had lived up to his vows…

When the pale sunlight finally spreads completely over his face does he stand – he is going to save Laura. He has to. Letting her die is not an option. And he will make things better once she is back.

James stands up stiffly and glances around. There is no one nearby on the road. The closest building is a tall wooden, dull spectacle, and no one is near it. James pulls the Time-Turner our of his pocket, and reaches for his book—

His book. His bag. He has left both back in the Leaky Cauldron. James is struck with a sudden urge to kick himself. How could he have? Feeling suddenly panicky, James slaps a hand onto his pocket, and then sighs with deep relief – he still has his wand.

His feeling of frustration neutralized slightly by the relief, James looks up, wondering what he can do. He needs instructions, something to tell him exactly how to make the Time-Turner take him back – no, forward – however many years he needs to go. He doesn’t trust his own knowledge anymore. And he needs to know the date.

James glances back at the tall building he saw earlier, further down the road. Maybe someone there will have what he needs.

It takes an hour to reach the building, despite how close it looks. James is starving, thirsty and exhausted mentally and emotionally, despite his long sleep. His head aches, his back aches, his neck aches. The hour feels like eternity.

When he finally reaches the porch, he feels like collapsing at the wooden steps and begging someone to give him a drink. He doesn’t. Instead, he steps forward, onto the porch. The door is open slightly, a small plaque on its door reads, REPOSITORY. Frowning, James pushes through the door. A warehouse? Of what?

His question is answered as soon as the door spreads wide enough to allow light to fall onto the contents of the establishment. Mountains of scrolls, heaping towers of parchment, stacked on the floor, on chairs, on tables, spilling out of an adjoining doorway, anywhere and everywhere they will fit. James’s jaw drops. He has found a library which might have what he needs to see, but to go through this ravaged pile of junk…

James walks forward to the nearest pile of parchment, when suddenly he hears something behind him. His hand flies to his pocket, he spins around, shoes scarping on the wooden floor, wand outstretched, heart in throat.

His eyes catch a wink of gold, and he freezes, wand clenched tightly in hand. Around the man’s neck is a Time-Turner. James doesn’t look up into his face. He doesn’t have to.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks, letting his wand drop back to his side. ‘What are you doing here.’

Scorpius doesn’t say anything. His lips are pressed together, his eyes hard yet sad. He shakes his head slightly, as if disappointed and then takes something from his pocket. James half-raises his wand again.

In Scorpius’s fingers is a piece of newspaper that reads: “In Memory of Laura Potter – Beloved Wife�. James finally meets Scorpius’s eyes.

Scorpius shakes his head again and narrows his eyes. ‘Do you think for one moment, that I don’t regret what happened? Do you think I gloat about it? Sit and dream about it? If I could change things James… I guess that’s why I’m here.’

James stares at Scorpius, then looks away. His eyes come to rest on the piles and piles of scrolls. James immediately looks back at Scorpius. ‘How did you know where to find me? I mean here – in this time.’

Scorpius frowns. ‘I saw you leave, remember? I saw you using the Time-Turner.’

James remembers. He still doesn’t understand why Scorpius is there though – why he followed. This is James’s business and James’s business only.

‘Look,’ says Scorpius, as if reading James’s mind, ‘you weren’t the only person in Laura’s life.’

The statement makes fury rise in James’s throat. ‘Oh, of course I wasn’t. You were a part of her life too, weren’t you? Spending time getting to know her while I was…’

‘You were what? Busy? At work? You were never there for her James!’

‘And that makes what you did okay?’

‘Does it make what you did okay?’

‘I wanted the best life for her. I wanted to give her everything I could!’

‘And in doing that, you took yourself away from her! You think you’re the victim here? Get over yourself, James! If anyone’s the victim, it’s Laura!’

‘Oh, why? Because she was weak? Because she couldn’t stop herself from being with you?’ James feels all of his anger returning in a flash. The realizations he made this morning are quickly tucked away in a corner of his mind. He has only just admitted them to himself… he isn’t ready to admit them to Scorpius yet.

‘Shut up,’ snarls Scorpius, clearly furious now. ‘She was never weak. You have no idea what she went through. You were never around, ever. She spent all day alone, sometimes all night. She lived in a world of magic, was borne of magical parents, and yet she was always shunned for being a Squib. She wanted you James, because she loved you, but you couldn’t even give her that. She acted naturally!’

‘You fancy yourself the hero, don’t you,’ James shoots back, Scorpius’s words tearing at him.. ‘Thinking you arrived just in time and gave her friendship and everything else she wanted. You think you did the right thing.’

‘No. I don’t,’ says Scorpius. ‘I don’t and I never will.’ His gray eyes are hard. ‘Come to your senses. Let me help you. You can’t do this alone.’

‘Oh, yeah? Why not?’

‘I can take you to just before Laura died. I can take you there. Trust me, James.’

James keeps a sneer off his face with difficulty. He will never trust Scorpius again. Never. He turns away, scanning the devastated library again. In spite of himself, he can’t help hearing the truth that rings in Scorpius’s words. He doesn’t have his book, he doesn’t know how exactly to go forward in time. James swallows hard. He doesn’t want Scorpius’s help. As he turns back to face Scorpius, the Time-Tuner around his neck flashes, reflecting the sunlight streaming through the one window—

‘Have you seen Laura, Scorpius?’
‘Laura – n-no, I haven’t. Why?’
‘She’s not home yet!’
‘What? She said she’d be at home all day – I-I called at your house earlier, and met her…’
‘Are you sure? I’m worried. She was talking funny last night – in her dreams…’
‘Dreams?’
‘Yes – she was saying she couldn’t keep living like this and that she didn’t know what to do. She sounded frantic, but you know… nightmares.’
‘James.’ Scorpius sounded frightened over the phone. ‘James, go check the barn – please!’
‘What?’
‘Go check the barn, James! Go check the barn! NOW!’
‘Scorpius, what are you on about?’
‘I don’t have time to explain – oh, fuck – she was talking to me once, recently, about the barn, telling me how she almost fell from the loft – she said it was the perfect way to die – fall from the loft and that’s it – she was joking, she was joking I swear, but – go check the barn James!’

Commotion – bodies were flying past, people running around frantically – so much noise – ‘Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter, we need you to identify her body… Mr. Potter? – A blond haired man, rushed forward, hugged him tightly – ‘It’ll be all right, James, you can come stay with us for a few days, it’ll be all right. Malfoy Manor has enough room, you shouldn’t be in this house, come on…’—

James blinks and shakes his head. He is facing an irritated Scorpius. The flashback makes him realize something – Scorpius obviously knows much more about Laura and her death than he does. Suddenly, questions bubble in his throat. Did Laura really joke about dying? Where was she been before she died? With Scorpius? And of course, the biggest questions of all: why had she ended it? Her death had been ruled a suicide, but she had left no last note, no explanation. Why had she hung herself? Why?

Scorpius obviously knows how he, James, can find the answers to these questions. James’s only choice is to accept his help.

Swallowing his pride, James says nothing, only nods.

**

‘Time-Turners only work if you want to go back in time – and there are only a handful of devices in existence that allow forward time travel. Going to the future can be even more risky than going to the past. Lucky for us, I’ve managed to track down an old man who keeps a pub around here. Likes to use his profits to dip into the magical item’s black market and then resell the stuff at ridiculously high prices,’ explains Scorpius as quickly as he can as they run down the road, away from the repository. ‘I’ve paid him what he asked for and he’ll be waiting for someone who matches your description to pick it up. He’ll give you instructions as well, so make sure you listen.’

They reach a small, dodgy-looking wooden structure which James surmises is the pub. Scorpius pushes him towards its rickety front door. ‘Go to the barkeeper and say “I’m here to save someone from the Blue Highway.�,’ he hisses as James stumbles forward. ‘And make sure you listen to what he says!’

James gives Scorpius a quick over-the-shoulder wave to let him know he’s understood and then steps cautiously into the pub. His senses are immediately bombarded by raucous laughter, the stink of sweat and a severe lack of light, whether natural or unnatural. Shutting the door behind him, James waits a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Even when they do, it is difficult to see. The pub is covered in thick smog that makes James cough as he skirts around tables filled with large men gorging on plates piled with food, or glugging down mugs of drink. By the time he reaches the bar, his eyes are watering too. Rubbing at them hastily, his slips into a chair. Less than a second later a man with graying hair, few teeth and a large mole over one eye appears in front of him.

‘Can I help ye, ladee?’ the man asks, his voice rough. He is cleaning a tankard with a dirty cloth.

Feeling extremely stupid, James asks, ‘Yeah. I’m here to save someone from the Blue Highway.’ In spite of everything that has happened over the past few weeks, he almost feels like laughing at that.

For a moment the man simply sneers at him and James feels like he is about to be cross-examined. He keeps firm eye contact, but the man doesn’t ask any questions. Instead he reaches under the bar and pulls out a wooden box. He shoves it towards James and mutters, ‘Two turns should do it.’

Then he returns to his tankard-cleaning.

**

‘He said two turns?’

‘Yes! Two turns!’ snarls James, losing patience. He is jogging down the highway, Scorpius at his heels, in search of a safe place to use the object the bartender has given him. His heart is beating feverishly, urging him to move faster, but his legs want to slow down. Here and now, when he is so close to saving his wife, some part of him wants only to stop. Some part of him insists he grieve. Insists that he suffer the guilt. He shakes the feeling off. Just a little more time and there would be no reason to be guilty at all.

‘Here!’ shouts Scorpius. He grabs James arm and pulls him behind an old shed. ‘Now open the box.’

James lifts the lid of the wooden box and pulls out a small hourglass on a long chain. For a moment he just stares at it.

‘It looks exactly like a Time-Turner,’ he says flatly, feeling his heart sink.

‘Forget it. Maybe it’s been disguised,’ replies Scorpius. He takes the hourglass from James and slings the chain around both their necks. He takes a deep breath. ‘Two turns – here goes.’

One. Two.

Just before the world around him begins to spin, James spots someone standing near them. A young lady in a white dress with shining, pale blue eyes. She shakes her head sadly – and then is gone.

**

Dear Scorpius,
James has never been so happy – not since the day we were married. He returns home early every day, smiles, laughs, cooks dinner!

Over the years we’ve grown apart, not closer, and I don’t know if this is entirely his fault. If you and I weren’t…

I can’t believe he doesn’t know. Now, when he is so happy, when I find myself loving more and more every second, when old feelings have begun to rekindle… am I doing the right thing, following my heart?

This time there is no unconsciousness. James and Scorpius land on a bed of grass and hard earth, but there are no large rocks nearby. Except for a few bruises they come out of the journey unscathed.

James springs to his feet.

‘Where are we?’ mutters Scorpius from the ground.

James doesn’t answer him. Once again, the Time-Turner has transported them to an open field. But this time James knows where he is. He can see a small house jutting above the horizon – his house

‘What’s the time?’ he asks Scorpius.

Scorpius is getting to his feet, rubbing the back of his head at the same time. ‘Er—’ He turns and peers at the setting sun. ‘Seven? Eight? Hey!’ James has already set off at a run. The sun hasn’t set yet and it hasn’t begun to storm so he still has time. If he can just get home in time, if he can just make sure he catches Laura before…

The thought has hardly left his mind, when, in the distance, thunder rumbles. James curses under his breath and suddenly, he has entered a nightmare. He can’t seem to run fast enough, the sky is darkening quickly. Every step seems to take an infinite amount of time. His throat is beginning to hurt from the panic; the house doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. Behind him he can hear Scorpius calling out to him.

Laura Potter stands in the doorway of the large barn. Her blond hair sweeps around her head in the heavy wind. In the distance she can hear the sound of thunder. She can see the ladder that leads to the loft, only a few feet away. She begins to walk towards it. Her mind runs over her conversation with Scorpius. He has insisted they end their relationship. She knows it is the right thing to do, but her heart does not like it. She has spent more of her married life with Scorpius than with her own husband. She has a son, a son whose father is a mystery. And the one man who knows of the turmoil in her heart has just told her that enough is enough. That they cannot be together anymore.

Laura does not think she can face a lonely life again.

James crashes through the door of the house, Scorpius at his heels. His instinct is to call out to Laura, but he controls himself. James knows his other self could be in the house somewhere. Scorpius is thinking the same thing. He raises a finger to his lips. James nods in agreement, trying not to let his frantic heart rule his actions. James points Scorpius towards the kitchen. He walks into the parlor, only to find it empty. The main sitting room and Deben’s bedroom on the ground floor is empty too. Scorpius meets James back in the front hall. He shakes his head – he hasn’t found anything either.

Just then thunder explodes through the silence. James almost jumps out of his shoes. The ceiling suddenly creaks and both James and Scorpius turn. James’s heart jumps into his throat. Someone is moving around upstairs. Only two other people besides Laura could be in the house: the other James and Deben. And Deben hadn’t yet learned to walk.

The telephone rings and James jumps again. He will never get used to the sound of the phone, but Laura always insisted on having it. She had lived her independent life as a Muggle – there was option for a Squib. The telephone is in the kitchen and James can hear someone walking towards the stairs on the first floor.

‘Out!’ hisses Scorpius and James follows him out the front door into the brewing storm.

Laura walks towards the swinging rope. It has been strung around one of the loft’s supporting beams. Laura reaches out and unwinds it and takes it in her hands. It is a thick rope, looped at one end so that someone can hold onto it properly while swinging. The previous owners had children and they had left the rope when they had moved out. Laura realizes now that it is a death trap. The loop is the perfect size – anyone could put their head through it and…

The rope feels rough and hard in her fingers. Her hand does not go all the way around the circumference of the rope. She gazes at it for a moment before stepping forward. Her toes hang over the edge of the loft. She peers down into the darkness of the barn floor below. It is covered with hay but that doesn’t matter. The rope is short enough. She will never reach the ground.

James gasps as the freezing rain pelts his head and neck. ‘She’s not in the house!’ he shouts, turning to Scorpius, tears mingling with the rain. The panic is almost overbearing. His knees knock together. ‘She’s not in the house!’

‘Keep your head on!’ Scorpius yells over the wind. ‘Did you answer the phone before you found her or after? Try to remember?’

James shakes his head, tries to remember a phone call. And then it comes to him. ‘Before! Just before! You called! You told me to check the barn!’ A cold feeling engulfs James, a feeling that has nothing to do with the rain slipping down his back. His mind roars at his legs to run and even then they take a moment longer to process the order.

As thunder rumbles and lightning flashes, he races towards the barn.

Laura leans forward slightly. She slips the rope under her chin, wondering how it will feel. Will she die instantly or will she have to wait for death’s clammy hands to end it?

She shivers.

And then from somewhere, a voice filters into her mind: For better or for worse…

She remembers the James she married. Not the James that is currently asleep in the house… but the sweet James. The James ho would have done anything for her. Suddenly, every second of their whirlwind courtship floats to the top of her mind. And then she remembers the James whose jaw dropped when she revealed her pregnancy. Who was so happy he had lifted her into his arms and danced around the room. Who had cooked dinner every day, who had done the unthinkable and taken off days from work to clean the house for her, to care for her, to be with her.

And then she remembers her reaction. Her wish that he wouldn’t. She wanted to spend more time with Scorpius, and James being around meant that she had to stay home to avoid the risk of arousing suspicion.

She thinks of this all and her heart hurts.

She and James. Making mistakes at every chance.

James runs to the front of the barn to find its two large double doors wide open and creaking in the wind. He pushes away flashbacks and memories of what he found last time he entered these doors and clenches his teeth, mustering the courage to enter his nightmare once more. Behind him Scorpius gives him a gentle push. ‘James! There’s not much time!’

Lightning lights up the night.

And James storms through the open doors.

The barn inside is dark, but just as the sound of deafening thunder trails off, another flash of lighting brightens the surroundings.

James heart stops.

He has just seen Laura’s outline. She is standing at the very edge of the loft.

‘No!’ he tries to cry, but the shout comes out half-sob, half-whisper. He makes a mad dash for the ladder, clambers onto it and climbs like he has never climbed before.

And here she is, about to make another mistake. A mistake with consequences that she cannot predict. What will her death do to her family? The rope slips around her neck, scratches at her skin. Her hands move to take it off. She is making a mistake.

James runs towards Laura, having reached the loft, as lightning blazes against the darkness again. The rope is around her neck.

‘Laura, no!’ he shouts. ‘Please! I’m sorry!’ His shoes thump loudly on the wood. Laura jumps and turns at the sound of his voice.

‘James?’ she calls out. ‘Is that you?’

‘Laura, you can’t!’ James shouts, running frantically, wishing the distance between rope and ladder was less. ‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a bad husband, but please, I can fix things, don’t do this! I love you! I do, I swear!’

Laura hears her husband’s voice and feels like she has been transported into a dream. His words are like a miracle, and suddenly a deep warmth rushes over her body, warming her, fingers to toes. This must be how magic feels, she thinks. Her face feels like it will split from grinning. ‘James!’ she calls into the darkness. ‘I’m here!’ She reaches around her neck to remove the rope.

Lightning.

James’s heart leaps. He sees Laura is the light, her hands fiddling with the rope around her neck. ‘Laura!’ he cries, and he reaches out for her. But she hasn’t seen him, and as he reaches out, she jumps.

Her feet are too close to the edge already.

The rope is still around her neck.

She jumps at her husband’s voice. And she loses her balance.

It happens in a flash of lightening. James sees her stumble backwards, her hands leave her neck, the rope slips back into place and she falls backwards.

‘No!’ yells James and he reaches out to grab her.

He catches only air.

The length of the rope flips up as she falls and strikes his face. The force of it flings him backwards. There is a whoop sound as the rope slaps the air. And then suddenly, the rope is taut.

‘NO!’ screams James, pain ripping at his heart and throat. He tries to get to his feet but his legs will not support him. He crawls to the edge of the loft, where Laura was just a second ago.

His heart bleeds in his chest.

Lighting again.

And he sees her there, still. Unmoving. Gone.

The room brightens again, and James looks at the double doors of the barn and sees the silhouette of a man – his other self.

It is over.

In a daze, he somehow manages to find the ladder again, scuttle down it and out the back door of the barn, to a waiting Scorpius. The door bangs behind him as he leaves. Just before it shuts he hears someone scream, long, hard and loud. The scream is filled with pain. James remembers it well.

**

The funerals are held on time, Monday at three.

Harry Potter’s first. Laura Potter’s immediately after.

James attends both.

Scorpius stands at his side. James has forgiven him, and Scorpius has forgiven James. They have done so without discussing the matter.

The funerals are short. Attendance is minimal. Family mostly. That is how it should be, James thinks. Halfway through Laura’s funeral, Deben becomes fidgety and Scorpius takes him and leaves. As James watches them go, Scorpius tickling Deben’s tummy, he realizes he never asked Laura the ultimate question.

He still doesn’t know if Deben is his or not.

At this moment, it doesn’t really matter. He may never know.

That will not stop him from treating Deben like a son.

James has made too make mistakes already. And he has paid. He will not pay again.

When the funerals end, James finds himself sitting in the open field that the Time-Tuner transported himself and Scorpius to, the second time around. The day is cloudy, but this time, there is no storm. The sun peers out from behind a puff of gray and lights up patches of grass with a pure, lovely golden. A slight breeze ruffles James’s hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her, yet he doesn’t turn to face her.

He realizes who she is now. Beautiful and unearthly. There is only one person she can be.

This time, she speaks.

‘Remember the Blue Highway?’ she asks. James remembers telling the bartender about needing to save someone from it. Only now does the significance of those words hit him. It was Laura’s fancy that the path to heaven was a long stretch of highway. Blue highway. She and James had been married at a church outside of which a road stretched as far as the eye could see. On the day of their marriage, the road had looked blue, for some unfathomable reason. Laura had decided then and there that it was blue because it led to heaven and all heavenly things were blue.

‘I remember,’ he says.

‘It is very blue,’ she replies. ‘You’d like it.’

James doesn’t look at her. For the first time since Laura’s death, tears come willingly to his eyes. He looks down at his lap. There rests a crumpled scrap of paper from the Daily Prophet. It says: “In Memory of Laura Potter – Beloved Wife�. A shuddering breath leaves James as he reads it. A few tears drop onto it, smudging the ink.

He can tell she is watching him. Finally, she speaks again. ‘Are you reading this with your heart or your mind?’

James looks up. She is kneeling next to him, pointing at the paper. James shakes his head. He doesn’t understand what she means.

‘I’m gone. That is that,’ she says. ‘You could never have saved me.’

‘Then what was the point?’ murmurs James. ‘Of everything that has happened. Why did it happen?’

She doesn’t answer. Instead she stands, and gazes at a ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds. James watches her and hates himself.

‘I treated you badly.’

She looks down at him again and this time, she smiles. It almost blinds him. ‘That was the point.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Then, you have learned. And your mission is complete.’ As James watches her, she seems to brighten with her words. She looks down at James once more. ‘I made mistakes too, darling. It was not entirely your fault. Be at peace. And remember that I love you.’

For a moment, she shines brighter than the sun, and James is forced to shield his eyes. When he looks back up, she is gone. In her place is a white piece of paper. It flutters to the earth, brighter than it should be.

James picks it up and reads:

When the time is right, sweetest, you shall follow the blue highway, and we shall be together again. This time, for better, not for worse. Remember: I will always love you.

And as James sits there, in the field, the clouds float away and the sun shines brightly, and the day seems suddenly lighter.

**