Title: Priori Incantatem

Rating: T

Summary: James Potter woke in St. Mungo's with a raging headache. Not only did he feel like he had flown headfirst into Hagrid, but he felt so incredibly exhausted. Learning that Lily died nearly 14 years ago, and that his son was currently fighting a war he's too young to understand, James knows that everything he knew about parenting is going to be challenged. Harry's too old for him, now. But it won't stop James from making sure that not only will Harry be kept safe, but that his life is the Order's priority.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters and settings mentioned in the story below that relate to Harry Potter. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic/Bloomsbury.

Warnings: Cursing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, mentioned character death, walking in on two characters having sex, alcoholism.

Spoilers: The following takes place after 4th year, with the beginning of this story set a few weeks before the events of Order of the Phoenix.

Author's Notes: I am so sorry for how long it has taken me to get this chapter out. The last few months have been riddled with family emergencies, traveling, and exams. I can't promise when the next chapter will be posted, but I can say that I'll try my best. I hope you enjoy!

~ August 1st, 1995 ~

If there was one thing James never wanted to see, it was exactly what he was seeing right in front of him. Molly seemed to think better than to wake James for dinner, which meant that James woke in the early hours of the morning with a growling stomach, and a blinding headache - again.

Journeying to the kitchens was the first mistake he made. Investigating when he heard what sounded like a fight as he passed the library, was the second. He should have toughed it out, manned through his hunger until breakfast in the morning - maybe not even left his room or gone past the library.

He pulled his recovered wand from his pajama trousers, and held his breath as he gently pushed the library door open. It was the sight that made James regret every life choice he had ever made up to that point.

"Merlin's bloody balls-" James' wide eyes, and look of absolute horror equally mirrored Remus's. His hand was places James didn't venture to guess, and given that Remus' trousers were on the floor around his ankles, well... he could only guess where Remus ended and Sirius began. He blinked rapidly, as if he could stop his eyes from bleeding after seeing his two best friends since he was bloody eleven naked enough to not be ready for a swim.

"James," Remus said carefully.

"Please don't," James interrupted swiftly. "Please don't say my name while you're still inside of Sirius." The words were those James never thought he'd say. And Sirius... well, Sirius was grinning like a bloody loon.

"Sorry, Prongs," Sirius threw easily across the library. "Care to join, or are you just going to stand there and watch?" The books under him were ones that James was going to have to encourage the werewolf and Molly to burn. And the table. And the rug. Maybe the whole house, and his eyes for good measure.

James took off his glasses, so the intimate details in front of him were nothing more than a blurry form. "You lot could have at least locked the door, yeah? Bloody hell, this isn't a brothel."

"Still haven't left, either, mate," Sirius returned, and though James couldn't see it, there was a distinct eyebrow wiggling in the ex-con's voice.

Right. Leaving. James swiftly slammed the door shut, hearing Remus call out softly "Sorry!" from behind it. Standing in the hall, James could almost immediately hear that walking in on them did not seem to hinder the couple in the least.

James banged the back of his head against the door. "And put up a bloody silencing charm, next time! I don't need to hear it either! Think of the children!" He quickly threw up a silencing charm for them, and wondered if he was really hungry after all.

His stomach wasn't growling anymore.

He opted to go to the kitchens, anyway, and get himself a cup of tea. Or a glass of water. Maybe even some firewhiskey.

Setting the kettle on, James hauled himself onto the counter, and buried his head in his hands. He had always had an inkling of a relationship. The year that Remus had spent in Greyback's pack had made Sirius a fucking nightmare to deal with. And now James understood.

They had always shared clothes, though James had reasoned that it was because Remus didn't have very nice clothes, and Sirius got whatever clothes he wanted. They sometimes shared a bed, but it was always around a full moon, and James knew that Remus had awful nightmares around the full moon. But that had started when they were just second years, and James knew that old habits died hard.

He still reached for a cigarette only to remember he didn't have any.

They loved one another, that much had been clear from what he saw in the library. From too much he saw. And despite the years that separated them, the more than fourteen years between the war and missions and Azkaban, they were together, and happy. And making up for lost time.

Lily wasn't coming back. She wasn't going to give him one of those annoyed glares when he couldn't stop humming a song that Sirius had played on their record player. She wasn't going to hold him close at night and he wasn't going to get to comb her hair after a shower because he hated how he'd get a big mop of it in his face while he was sleeping otherwise. He wouldn't have her, anymore.

And that was worse than anything James could have ever imagined.

"I'm sorry, Lily," James whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you and our son."

Tea wasn't strong enough. He dumped the almost boiled kettle and reached for the firewhiskey stash that Sirius had showed him when he first arrived. If he could make the ache in his chest go away, just for the next few hours, it would be worth the headache he'd have later.

He woke in his room, the firewhiskey bottle empty on the nightstand and the putrid scent of his breath when he groaned. What was the name of the house-elf? "Kreacher?" James mumbled, tugging his pillow over his face. When he heard the crack, he winced at the noise. "I could really use a sober-up potion, please."

There was a grumbling, and then the crack of apparation again as the elf left.

Harry would be here today. He didn't know what the game plan was. How they were going to breach the topic of the introduction. The fact that Harry had no idea he was even alive made his throat burn almost as badly as the fire whiskey had.

How could they not tell Harry about him? How could they not tell Harry that he was in a coma? Yet, he knew the answer. If Harry knew he was alive, Sirius had given enough indication that Harry would have demanded to go to St. Mungo's. James wanted Harry's safety as the upmost priority.

Anything that put Harry in danger would have to be avoided. He was not going to make the same mistake twice.

Fourteen years now. His son was almost a man, and he had missed everything.

So, he repeated the information he had begged his best mates for. "Gryffindor, Hogwart's TriWizard Champion and winner, duelled the Dark Lord and lived, youngest seeker of the century, broke his arm second year and had it vanished, traveled back in time to break Sirius out of prison, has an owl named Hedwig, born July 31, 1980."

His birthday was so soon. James had no idea what to get him, or what to even do with his son. The last birthday they had, he got a broom that he had rode around the house.

Kreacher arrived with the potion, putting it on the nightstand, and popped back out. First the potion, then the shower to clean himself up. And then he'd freak out with what he was going to say to his son. What the first thing he was going to say that Harry would ever remember.

It was a pressure he wasn't too happy to have.

They decide to ease him into it, by having Harry sit down with Remus and Sirius as they talked with him about everything. James and Molly were in the kitchen, and after she greeted Harry, sounding every bit like a mother would when seeing a son after a long time, she directed him up the stairs until this blasted meeting was over. The one that reminded James that his and Lily's supposed deaths had been for nothing.

That the Dark Lord was getting stronger, and would be after him, and after Harry. There was nothing James could do to stop that.

It wasn't until after the meeting that his stomach was churning, and he felt the familiar raw ache of nervousness. He had only felt it a few times in his life, this intensely. The first had been the first time he had worked up the courage to speak to Lils. He had royally botched it up, insulting her more than complimenting her as he had rehearsed in his head. And then the second time was their first date. He had been so nervous to make sure everything was perfect, that he had thrown up on her shoes right after dessert.

Then when he was getting married. He was nervous for the arrival of Lily. He thought she got cold feet and regained some of her senses and opted for Remus instead of himself. But he had showed and the knots had untangled immediately upon seeing her.

Seeing Harry, speaking to Harry, for the first time… it was suffocating him. He knew nothing about his son, but second-hand accounts. He knew nothing about what his favorite food was, what he liked to listen to… Just the basics that James ventured most people read about in the papers. He pushed into the kitchen and came short when he spotted Granger sitting at the table.

She didn't glance up at his entrance, but she did say a quiet, "Hello."

"Studying?" he found himself asking. She always had her nose in a book, so it was a pointless question. But the less he thought about what he was going to say to Harry the better.

"Arithmancy," Hermione supplied. "Did you ever take that course?"

James grinned at that. "Did I? My best subject, if I do say so myself." That gained her attention. She glanced up sharply, clearly doubting him. "Fifth year is the first year you're taking it, yes?"

"I've been taking it since third. 1987, they changed the minimum class age," Hermione informed him swiftly, his mistake being corrected with her endless vat of knowledge. Knowledge he would have known if he had been awake. "They opted to spread the information and build a strong base for third and fourth year before advanced theory is discussed for NEWTs."

That made sense. James fidgeted slightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Hermione dropped her gaze back down to her book. "Are Sirius and Remus going to be telling Harry?"

"Before dinner," James admitted. He chewed on his lip.

"He threatened to kill Sirius before listening to an explanation once. He has a temper."

"So did Harry's mum." The brief smile that hit James face caused he knots to twist full force again. "I'm getting something to drink. Do you need a firewhiskey for all those numbers?"

"Drinking doesn't deal with problems, Mr. Potter. It just suppresses them."

"Also called liquid courage. A glass never hurt anyone." She hums and becomes engrossed again. James pours himself a glass and drinks it in a single go.

"Sirius!" James heard his son's voice say. In the living room. His head cracked with the speed he jerked around to look at the door that separated him from his son. It was a name he hadn't heard Harry say in over a decade, with letters that were more slurred together and higher pitched, sure, but it was the same as it was then otherwise.

"Harry," Sirius called back. "Look at you. You look more and more like your father every day."

"Professor," Harry greeted, and James assumed it was for Remus.

"How many times must I tell you, Harry? Remus will do. I've seen you in your nappies."

James leaned against the counter, contemplating if he should get closer to the door. And if he did, would the temptation be easy to restrain to keep himself from surprising Harry? He didn't know. He just knew that a sweat was starting to break on his forehead and his hands felt clammy. He rubbed the palms on his trousers and listened carefully, holding his breath so he could hear better.

"Let's take a seat. There are a few things we've been meaning to discuss with you, Harry, and now is the best time we've been able to arrange." This was it.

James was going to meet his son.