Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I create.
Chapter 04: Welcome Home
Talking to the young Sirius, Remus, and Wormtail had been nerve-wracking for many reasons.
For Sirius and Remus, it was nostalgic and somewhat heartwarming to see them again, even if they weren't the same people he once knew. These versions were far more naïve and mischievous.
Wormtail, on the other hand, was… different from the broken, cowardly, and traitorous man he remembered. Peter was just an awkward boy, but he seemed nice overall.
That being said, James had to make an immense effort not to judge him for things he had yet to do, or might never do now. History would be very different this time if he had any hand on it.
In the end, he was forced to stay at the hospital for an entire week before being allowed to leave.
This was something he didn't mind all that much. For the most part, he was left to rest and this allowed him to put all these new memories he now had, in some sort of order.
His mother, Euphemia, never left his side, and they spent countless hours talking. Thankfully, she didn't ask many probing questions. Her inquiries were simple: "How are you feeling today?" or "Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts?"
His father visited every day after finishing his work at the Ministry. From overheard conversations, James pieced together that Fleamont was the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
Essentially, his father managed incidents where witches or wizards risked exposing the magical world to Muggles. His department contained these situations and performed memory modifications on witnesses.
Most of James's time in the hospital was spent reading. Euphemia had brought all the schoolbooks he'd need for the next year, as well as some of his favorite storybooks from home.
It was strange to think of them as his parents and call them "Mother" and "Father." Yet, they were still his family. In his previous life, they were his grandparents. Now, they were his parents. Had they been alive after Lily and James died, they might have raised him, sparing him the Dursleys' cruelty.
So, while treating them as his parents felt odd, it wasn't unpleasant or overly abnormal. He simply wasn't used to having a family , at all.
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He had no complete memory of the house he grew up in, only fragments. So, seeing it now was a surprise.
Growing up, he had wild fantasies about his parents living in a castle, but he never imagined they actually did.
It wasn't perfect, though. The castle looked ancient and in dire need of repairs. At some point, it must have had four towers, but three had collapsed, and the fourth seemed ready to follow if left unattended.
The main building stood about four stories tall, constructed of dark gray stone. The entire property was surrounded by a high metal fence topped with spikes.
It wasn't Hogwarts, but it was still impressive, especially considering that only three people lived there. He guessed that when it was built, his family must have had at least a dozen members and a hundred servants that would occupy and maintain the property.
James hid his surprise as best he could, saying nothing to avoid suspicion.
"Glad to be back home, James?" Fleamont asked.
"Yes, Father… I am." It wasn't a lie. The idea of having an ancestral home was appealing.
His ivory tower had been a refuge, a place he commissioned and shared with apprentices for decades. But this castle, with its history and legacy, was different.
"Let's go inside, then," Euphemia said, patting his back.
As Fleamont approached the castle's main gates, they opened on their own, seemingly enchanted.
"Welcome home, Masters and Mistress!" a house-elf said with a bow.
"Thank you, Dipsy. Are the preparations complete?" Fleamont asked, walking inside with his wife and son.
"Yes. Loory is almost finished with them," the elf replied.
James was surprised to hear an elf speak so...normally. He had little experience with house-elves, having only interacted with Dobby and Gretchen during his lifetime.
'Hmm... I wonder if the cranky old elf from the Blacks is around yet.
House-elves live longer than humans, and he was ancient when I met him. There's a good chance he's already with that family.'
As they walked through the castle, James noticed how well-maintained and clean the interior was despite the building's dilapidated exterior.
Clearly the work of the house-elves.
They climbed to the second floor, stopping in front of a door.
"Why don't you rest for a bit, James? We'll see you at dinner," Euphemia suggested.
James opened the door and stepped inside. A wave of familiarity washed over him. This was definitely his bedroom.
It wasn't overly elaborate, just a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a chest, and several Quidditch posters on the walls.
In one corner, he spotted a broom: a Comet 600. Nimbus brooms had only been on the market for a few years, so Comet and Cleansweep still dominated the industry.
James placed his suitcase on the floor and sat on the bed.
Everything still felt surreal.
'This is going to take some time to get used to. At least I have almost an entire month before I need to venture into Hogwarts and face the crowds.' James considered.
He resolved to use this time wisely and to learn how to become the most convincing James Potter he could possibly be.
Many questions still plagued his mind. Mostly about how he ended up in his father's body, or why history seems to be different here...or what was he supposed to do here.
For the moment, he had no way to answer any of that, so it appears that he was going to have to learn to live as James Potter.
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