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Darkness fell and Prongs knew it was time. The stag morphed into a skinny black haired boy of sixteen and took a tiny hourglass that he had on a chain around his neck and shook it.
His world swirled with colliding color, days passed liked seconds before his eyes, as he watched seasons fade into years and years into decades. The forest became darker, thicker, a hut appeared at the side of the forest and the lake shrunk in considerable size, a full moon rested in the sky, time had come to a stop.
The hourglass in his hand shuddered and he knew he had reached his destination. Dumbledore had suggested ten turns of the hourglass; James suspected he had skipped about a decade or two.
All was silent and there was no sign of the boy, just the presence of warm summer air and a peaceful rustle of the trees. It was eerie, he felt half alive, half anywhere and the shock of having moved forward so many years put him in a frozen state. He nearly forgot why he had he ventured so far. He became aware of how crazy he had been to believe his own dreams, to answer the cry of a boy he doubted existed, and to believe he had the power to save him.
“What I would do to have Padfoot and Moony here,” he lamented to himself as he watched the lights flicker on from the Gryfindor tower, wondering who might rest in his dormitory these days.
Were boys of this age as light hearted as he? Had they come up with better schemes to match his mischief making? Were they better students? Did the sorting still sort, or was it replaced? All these questions bounced about James’ mind as he studied the castle more closely.
He marked the Wuidditch pitch was still up, same as it had always been, and that the astronomy tower was ever intact, and the Whomping Willow ... James craned his neck looking to the far end of the forest, a little beyond the stone hut. Yes, the willow was still there.
“Wonder if anyone knows what it’s used for?” he mused, recalling Moony and the Maraduer’s nightly excursions on the grounds.
James looked around impatiently, worried and unsure where to begin his search for the boy. “God Padfoot, wish you were here.”
Just as he spoke, a great black dog bounded up from bellow the Whomping Willow, James knew it only to be Sirius and blinked his eyes, disbelieving. He suddenly worried if he’d gone into the future at all, but the next thing he viewed dissolved his doubts.
The boy from his dreams and two other students that he had not seen before followed after the dog. A figure, stupefied and levitating, floated out from under the willow, accompanied by a middle aged man with ragged robs.
James stepped back behind a tree so he could not be seen and listened in intently to the words of the very odd company. The black dog had grown into the form of a sullen faced Sirius Black, causing James’s heart to pang.
He didn’t want to know, he wanted to leave, what he was seeing was disturbing him. Sirius looked awful, and by God what the hell was he doing back at Hogwarts twenty years after the fact? James would have eaten his shoe, if Sirius had come back to teach, but he certainly doubted it, judging the state of his apparel. James could hardly believe how horrid he looked, Sirius had never been gnarly before, and he looked so... weary and old. James hoped he died before he reached forty, aging was worse than dieing in his opinion.
Sirius was talking to the boy and ... a lump was growing in James’ throat, he wanted to burst out in tears and scream. The boy looked, talked, walked and was James with glasses. His name was Harry, he’d just heard that frizzy haired brunette call him it. And ... was that tape around his glasses?
“Oy! The poor kid, what parent would let their kid go out like that?!” James thought. Then the thought came. What if he had no parents? What if ... was that why Sirius was here? Was this Harry Potter? The urge to scream filled James once more and he felt light headed, leaning against the tree more for support now than for hiding. The great James Potter was fit to faint. Then he heard the thing that made everything worse.
Sirius was speaking. “Well ... your parents appointed me your guardian. If anything happened to them ... ”
“Oh my God, so I really am dead!” James shrieked within himself.
The boy was agreeing now, telling Sirius how he would like to live with him more than anything, something about his aunt. James was left to ponder more, sick at the idea of his own death.
“Are you insane?” cried Harry to Sirius. James jumped again. “Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?”
“You want to you? You mean it?” Sirius grinned brightly.
“Yeah, I mean it!” chimed Harry, and as swiftly as the joyous moment had come, it passed with a blood-freezing howl from the ragged robbed figure. The only werewolf James knew came to mind.
“Remus!” he screamed aloud, Sirius had screamed it too and so James was not heard. His first instinct came to mind, Prongs. He had to turn into Prongs or Harry would be dead, that floating person thing would be dead (if it wasn’t already) and those other kids too, would be done for.
The mass of clouds that had been hiding the moon from view parted, and the form of Remus was contorting into a hideous, jeering beast.
“Leave it to me!” cried Sirius to the others, “RUN!” James watched the man turn to dog and tear at the fully transformed werewolf. His heart skipped a beat and before he knew it, he was Prongs, sprinting after Harry, unsure of anything in the world.
Harry and the toothy brunette were scrounging about the grass, screaming at each other. “Sirius, he’s gone, Pettigrew transformed!” Harry yelled.
Padfoot, blood drenched and panting, took a glance at Harry and proceeded to attack the wolf, their battle drifting further into the woods. James was spilt, unsure where to go. He heard Padfoot’s whimpering moan, and with out thinking twice, dashed into the brush.
The werewolf and the dog had lead their feud to the edge of the lake, and now Padfoot lay weak, and wheezing at the water’s edge, in his human form. The wolf bared its teeth and made one deadly snap at Sirius chest, but was flung back with a swift hoof kick from Prongs. Sirius’ lids flickered as he saw the image of Prongs, and then with a moan passed out.
Prongs kicked at the wolf again, sending it howling deep into the forest.
Then something happened. The warm summer air turned cold, frigid and every ounce of happiness with in him melted away. His very life felt on the strings of existence and he cared about nothing, was nothing. And then he saw it, the ghostly council, the dementors, hovering in for the kill. The cold made James shrink back into the trees, forgetting his best friend that lay near death by the lakeside.
The cold had brought Sirius from his swoon, and now he was crouched on all fours moaning as the dementors closed in, “Nooo, nooo ... please ... ”
James heard the crumpling of brush behind him, and he turned his head to see Harry and the girl, but feet from him. Harry was white, draining of color as he viewed darkness engulfing every form of life.
“Hermione, think of something happy!” Harry yelled to the girl, raising his wand at the black mass above.
The words Prongs had been yearning to hear flew from Harry’s mouth in a frenzied scream, “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!” he was screaming into the blackness, but his strength was failing, and with out warning, passed out the same as Sirius, awaiting death.
Prong had never felt so hopeless in all his life, and then the hourglass that hung around his neck began to shudder. A voice close to him was speaking, it sounded like his own ... “Come on! Where are you? Dad, come on --”
It was Harry, and then it all made sense. If Prongs could have spoken he would have, but as a stag, the words did not come. He wanted to cry back, “I’m here, I’m here, it’s me, I’m here!” but he could only offer intent watering eyes that Harry could not see.
A long moment passed, the dementors were hovering over Sirius at the lake, they were going to kiss him, they were so close and Prongs could wait no longer, he would stop the hideous wretches, no one would take Sirius from him! Just as he began to charge, a white gleaming mist shot from Harry’s wand as he mustered “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Prongs was caught with the mist, and a strong and powerful forced thrust him into the dementors, flailing them into the heavens. With the power of a god, Prongs cantered his hooves and made one more round for the remaining demons.
Harry stood at the other side of the lake, awestruck, his glasses fogging and his hair dancing wildly in a mighty wind. Prongs stopped and looked the boy over, taking him in, a pride surging, a happiness he had never known building in his bosom. With out warning the time turner began to shudder at his throat and the scene began to morph. The boy reached out desperately and Prongs mastered one low bow before everything was gone, and Prongs was back alone at he edge of the forest, in his sixth year at Hogwarts.
The air was cold, it was fall, no moon rested in the sky and he was alone. No one was there to hear him or see him, and so James cried, the masses burning his eyes. It had been so fast, so confusing for a boy of only sixteen. He had gone in and out of time, saved his own son, seen his own fate before he knew it and hadn’t even the time to say good bye. The stag turned back into boy, and he leaned his head against an oak and gulped down the river from his eyes.
What had it all been? Why had the time turner forced him back? Was Sirius alive? No one would believe him now, not that they ever did. What would he tell McGonagall, Padfoot and Moony? He would tell no one. No one needed to know.
Caught in a great sob, someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He whipped around, his hazel eyes meeting light blue behind half moon glasses.
“It was time boy, you know any longer and Harry would have suspected it.” Dumbledore said quietly, the stars on his flowing purple robs glowing in the moonlight. James couldn’t help from grinning, even in his sadness.
“How did you know, I--”
Dumbledore held up a hand, “I have my ways of knowing James, but what you did tonight was ... it was an extraordinary thing, and I think it’s a step toward manhood. In fact, I know it was.” Dumbledore winked and held out his hand.
“Oh!” James took the hourglass from around his neck and handed it back to the headmaster. He blushed somewhat and felt a bashful pride for Dumbledore’s words.
“I really did nothing professor, I don’t even understand what--”
“Ahh, but the future is not meant to be understood dear boy, why if we could predict life, then there would be no point to live, now would there?”
Dumbledore studied James fondly for a moment, half smiling, eyes dancing with a boyish glee. “Sleep would do you best, I think. A cup of cider too perhaps, yes I give you permission to head to the kitchens, not that you wouldn’t find a way on your own.” Dumbledore winked again, and James smiled broadly.
“Off you go now.”
James was pat on the back and directed back to the castle, where his thoughts drove him mad.
Later in bed that night he could only hope he had changed it, hope he was not dead, he would give anything not to be dead, for the boy with those tape secured spectacles and messy black hair like his own, a boy he hardly knew but loved more than any soul alive, Harry Potter.
The End.
N/A: Sorry that was short, but there’s not much I can write besides the patronous incident and that was really this story’s purpose. Thanx for your reviews and again if you’d like to read more refer to Sirius’ Diary. Love you all and if you have any suggestions for me to add more to this, plz tell me. Many thanks. “Amlaynne O’hara