Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of other characters in this story.

Many Thanks

Part Three: Familiarity

James Potter walked through his modest home, relishing in the feel of warmth that radiated from the very walls. It relaxed him, even if only a little. So many years after Hogwarts, he was a well-known and much loved Social Engineer, as Lily had taken to calling him.

He had worked hard to clear Hagrid’s name, methodically presenting evidence before the Wizengamot until they had no choice but to clear his record. They even presented him with a Baton—a fake wand he could take to Ollivanders which he could exchange for a real wand that suited him. The Ministry later compensated Ollivander.

That had been easy, though. Now he was arguing with grumpy old men about laws older than even their grandfathers, that they were unwilling to part with. It was alright though—James Potter had learned to be patient. With three children, two sons, seven and five, and a two year old daughter, he had no choice in the matter.

“What happened next?” A voice whispered. James stopped. He sighed. It came from Harry’s room. The boy was really beginning to concern him. He was always up late at night, talking to himself. When asked about his imaginary friend, Harry would say nothing. James leaned closer to the door to hear.

“Wow,” Harry breathed softly. “That would be so neat. I wish I could make a Patronus that powerful, Jane.” James frowned. Jane? “But what’s a stag?” Silence. “Oh! My dad can turn into one of those!” Outside the room James froze. “I’m not supposed to know about that, though. I saw him out the window last year while he was playing with Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus and Uncle Peter.”

There was a lengthy silence before Harry sighed. “But I’m not tired! Really!” A pause. “Alright, I guess.” James heard blankets moving. “Jane? Do you think I’ll ever have friends like that? I want to be like the Harry Potter in your story.” This time there was a long silence. “Promise?” Another pause. “Goodnight Jane. I love you.” There was a rustle of sheets and blankets again, then quiet.

Heart hammering, James went to the kitchen to sit quietly for a few moments to gather his scattered thoughts. In the end, he brewed himself a cup of tea that he didn’t drink. Instead, he watched tendrils of steam curl and twist in the air before vanishing.

A thousand questions ran through his mind, each more confusing than the last. Who was Jane? Was she real or imaginary? A ghost, perhaps? Was she someone he knew? Hermione? Was that even possible? Surely, if she were a ghost she would have shown herself by now. Right?

James decided to look at it from a different angle. He considered his son. Though he would have liked to take credit for the way Harry was turning out, he wasn’t sure he could. Despite only being seven, Harry seemed far older. Sometimes, he’d get a faraway look in his eyes, then he would say something rather profound. It was Harry, in fact, who pointed out that some of the members of the Wizengamot were probably afraid months ago, when James had been discussing it with Lily over dinner. They feared progress, it seemed to him, no matter how much it would help their society, because it meant changing what they were familiar with.

Everyone commented on how much alike the two of them were, but James wasn’t sure. He had certainly never been so thoughtful when he was younger. There was something familiar about his mannerisms, but he just couldn’t figure it out. In a strange way, it was as if Harry raised himself. James couldn’t remember the last time Harry had asked him to explain something, or if he ever had.

He saw everything differently, too. Harry saw the world in shades of gray. The things he would say, his understanding of concepts like freedom, sacrifice…they were beyond his age. At first, it didn’t bother James. In her journal, Hermione had praised Harry’s instincts, his understanding of the world around him. But now, with the entrance of Jane, James feared there was something amiss.

Just under an hour later, Lily came in, searching for him. Seeing he was in one of his moods, she didn’t bother him, only fixed him another cup of tea and gave him The Look until he drank it. Once the cup was empty, they went to bed, but James did not sleep. He stayed awake, looking at the ceiling.

When the sun rose, he owled the Ministry, saying he was finally going to use one of the vacation days he had saved up and take the day off. Lily, on the other hand, had to leave. After all, Lily Potter was Hogwarts’ resident Potions Mistress. Both Lily and James were glad that Dumbledore was lenient enough that he allowed Lily to spend Friday evenings through Monday mornings in her home, in addition to her maternity leave, so long as she finished her work. James made a mental note to tell Dobby, recently purchased from the Malfoys, that he didn‘t have to watch the children.

After breakfast, James, Harry, Charlus and Harmony kissed Lily goodbye before she left. James put Harmony in her playpen, and Charlus went back to his room to play with his toys. Harry was looking at the bookshelf, lightly fingering the spine of one of the books. James walked up to see what held his attention. Hogwarts, A History. He should have known—it was Harry’s favorite book.

“Harry, son, can we talk?” James asked. Harry turned around. His skin was unblemished, fair, and free of scars. His ravens-wing hair was messy, and his emerald eyes were wide behind their unbroken frames, looking at James with a kind of heartbreaking innocence.

Harry smiled, his face lighting up at the sight of is father. “Sure Dad! What do you want to talk about?”

James smiled. Harry had been like that since the day he was born. Warm and talkative, a far cry from the quiet, brooding boy Hermione had written about. The boy before him was always smiling, always making others laugh. He tried so hard to be a good big brother too. When James or Lily asked him to help with Charlus or Harmony, he did it without question. He adored his family.

“Harry, last night I heard you talking to someone named Jane,” he said, not bothering to dance around the matter.

The boy was silent. He looked off to the left for a moment then nodded. “Okay Dad. I’ll explain everything if you want.”

“I do,” James replied.

“Jane is my friend,” Harry began. “Nobody can see her but me, but you don’t have to worry Dad. I promise, she’d never hurt anyone. She’s real nice. Jane tells me stories before I go to sleep, and the hero of the story has my name, so it’s always fun. He has friends too, named Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, but the Hermione Granger in the story isn’t like the one who killed Voldemort, just like the Harry Potter who fights dark wizards and dragons isn’t me, you see? They’re just stories.

“But she helps me too. I think Jane knows everything. If I don’t know something, she explains it to me.” He frowned. “She doesn’t tell me everything though. She says that there are some things I don’t need to know until I’m older.” He softened. “Jane really is good. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Jane was obviously quite real, as well, since Harry had addressed James’ fear that this Jane was dangerous. It didn’t help Jane any that she seemed to be coaching Harry in his answers. If it really was Hermione, then James was sure that, for some reason, she had chosen to stay behind and guard Harry. If it wasn’t Hermione, James feared for his son. But with those stories…the Patronus…it had to be her.

“Alright, Harry,” James said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Across from him, Harry pushed his glasses up on his face. They were always sliding down. “Tell me more about…Jane. What does she look like?”

Harry smiled. It was a dazzling smile, like Lily’s. It made others want to smile. “Jane’s beautiful Dad. I would marry her if I could.” Harry paused and made a face off to the left, where James assumed Jane was standing. “I would so!” He turned back to James. “She has brown hair and eyes, and her hair is really curly. She has this scar, too, right here.” Harry used his finger to draw an imaginary line on the left side of his forehead, and moving down through his eyebrow. James felt himself relax a little. That was just like Hermione’s scar. So it was her. But how?

James left it at that. He asked Harry to come to him rather than Jane when he had questions, but if the boy was anything like him, he wouldn’t.

Rather than try and enforce his new rule, he did some research to find out just what exactly Jane—Hermione—was. It was a trying task, but tolerable. He’d hated doing research in Hogwarts, but it was normal for him now. His study was filled with legal books. There was little on other phenomena though. After three books, he found the answer.

A Phantom.

Ghosts were imprints of dead wizards who feared death, capable only of traveling where they had been when they were alive. Hermione was not a ghost, she was a Phantom. In life, she had not feared death, but still had Unfinished Business among the living. As such, Phantoms stayed behind until that business had been tended to. James suspected that Hermione would not be able to rest until she knew that Harry was happy.

As for their abilities, Phantoms were more versatile than ghosts. They could appear to anyone of their choosing, and communicate with them. They could also move things if they felt it was necessary. A well-meaning Phantom could helpfully hand a wizard something they needed, for instance. Remaining in the physical world was draining, so there were limitations, but they could help out in a pinch.

Well, that was one curiosity explained. James considered everything else Harry told him. He was struck, hard, but what Harry had said about the Harry in the stories, and his friends.

He immediately pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and a quill. He needed to speak with Mr. Arthur Weasley. He’d sheltered Harry too long—it was time to allow the boy to make friends who were among the living.

————

Four Years Later

————

“I’m telling you, she was a spy from Germany, sent by former agents of Grindelwald to overthrow a potential competitor for a new Dark Lord!”

“And I’m telling you that she was a radical Newblood, out to overthrow the Purebloods!”

“You’re both wrong,” a man interjected firmly. “She was a school girl who didn’t feel like living under the thumb of a Pureblood Supremacist, and didn’t want the rest of the world to suffer the same fate. She was very caring in that way.”

The two boys arguing stopped walking abruptly, revealing Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy. “Healer Pettigrew,” Malfoy said with a charming smile. “How fortunate! You actually knew the legendary Hermione Granger, did you not?”

“He did, along with the rest of us,” James said, stepping forward. Remus, Sirius and his family stood on Peter’s right, while James and his family stood on his left.

“Perhaps,” Malfoy agreed coolly. “But few, save the renowned Potions Master, Severus Snape, knew her quite as well as Healer Pettigrew.” James heard Sirius snort mirthfully and could imagine Remus’ grin. Lily was actually smirking. “You certainly knew her well enough that he named his daughter for her,” Malfoy added, looking at the girl holding Peter‘s hand.

Hermione Pettigrew ducked behind her father. Gently reaching behind him, he set his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Peter Pettigrew was nothing like the traitor Hermione described in her journal. He was one of the best Healers at St. Mungo’s, and a man who stood by his morals. More importantly, he was a good father who treasured his daughter above everything else, especially since his wife‘s death.

“Hermione is a popular name,” James calmly told the two boys. “If you recall, Severus Snape also has a daughter named Hermione, as do the Longbottoms. Why look, there’s another Hermione, right over there.” He nodded in the direction of a family that had just stepped onto Platform 9 ¾. It was the Michaels family. Their oldest son, Dean Michaels (who James believed was the Dean Thomas Hermione described in her journal) would be attending Hogwarts with Harry and the two boys in front of him. Their youngest daughter was named Hermione.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. I’ve also noticed there are quite a few Harry’s and Neville’s, too,” Nott said glancing at Harry then over to the Longbottoms, where Neville was trying to calm his cat. “Those are names often mentioned along with hers. They were friends of hers, am I correct?”

“So the stories say,” Sirius replied blandly. “We really don’t know, since we never interrogated her about her life before she came to Hogwarts. We were mental enough to respect her privacy.”

“Hermione was exactly as I described her. She was a kind hearted person who was willing to die for what she believed in,” Peter finished.

“More than willing, I dare say,” Malfoy added.

James opened his mouth to reply, but a tugging on his robes drew his attention. “Daddy,” a little girl whined. “I’m bored. I wanna do sumfing. We’ve just been standing here for ever doing nuffing!”

Smiling warmly, James picked up the pouting five (nearly six) year old. “Harmony, sweetheart, you need to be patient. Your brother Harry is leaving for school today.”

“Is Charlie going, too?” She asked hopefully.

“No,” he laughed. “Charlus won’t go to Hogwarts for another two years.”

“Well, far be it from me to continue interrupting such a…touching family moment,” Malfoy said, his lips curling ever so slightly in disdain. “I believe I shall take my leave.”

“And I,” Nott agreed. The two boys nodded and walked away, an arrogant swagger in each step.

“What fine Slytherins they’ll make,” Sirius muttered to Remus. “Such subtlety. That was a staged conversation if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Harmony’s right, Dad,” Charlus said. “We have been standing here for a long time, longer than anyone else.”

“We’re waiting for someone,” James replied easily.

“Who?”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Lily said, catching James’ eye.

A month before, James, knowing this day would come, gathered the Marauders, Lily and Dorcas Black nee Meadowes and showed them the picture he had taken all those years ago. He did not show them the journal—he would not make them read about their deaths. Knowing Sirius, he would be angry with Peter for a long time before he realized that Wormtail was a different person. James didn’t want to think how Peter would take the news. No, he wouldn’t share his burden. He wasn’t that selfish, not anymore.

At first they were confused, then angry that he had waited so long to tell them.

“This hasn’t been pleasant for me, you know. Part of me can’t wait to see her again, but then I remember she won‘t be the same girl. In her time, Voldemort was still wreaking havoc. She spent the better part of her life fighting him. The Hermione Granger we knew was a soldier. The one we have yet to meet is a child. I just didn‘t want you to be shocked if we see her.”

They had not argued after that, and examined the photo instead. James was proud of himself—he didn’t so much as wince when Peter commented on Harry’s scar. When Remus asked, he confirmed that Hermione was the mysterious Custos who brewed the Wolfsbane for him.

So there they were, the Potters, the Blacks, the Pettigrews, and Remus, still unwed (though there was a lovely lady he was hoping would be his wife—when he got the nerve to ask her), waiting. It hadn’t even really been a question whether or not they wanted to see her.

“Hey, where’s Harry?” Charlus asked.

“Dunno,” Alphard replied. “Probably moping about that Jane girl he talks about saying she couldn’t see him anymore.” Alphard was Sirius’ son and Charlus’ best friend. Together, Alphy and Charlie were as close to being twin terrors as two un-related boys could be.

“Watch it, Alphy,” Sirius said. James had explained to the others who Jane really was, and while the other kids seemed to think that Jane was Harry’s girlfriend, the adults knew the truth.

“Where is Harry?” Remus asked, looking around. James frowned too, wondering just when his son had wandered off.

“Excuse me,” someone said. They turned to find a frazzled looking Muggle woman who looked vaguely familiar. “I’m looking for a little girl.”

Remus laughed. “You’ll find there are plenty of little girls here.”

The woman smiled tiredly. “Well, her name is Hermione—”

Peter’s daughter squeaked and ducked behind her father.

“—Granger.”

“Did you say Hermione Granger?” Sirius asked quickly. Peter’s daughter peaked around his legs.

“Yes,” the woman said in surprise. “I’m Samantha Granger, Hermione’s mother. I can’t find her anywhere!”

“Don’t worry,” Lily said soothingly. “We’ll help find her. Can you tell us what happened?”

“Darren, my husband, Hermione and I walked through that…that brick wall onto the platform, and Hermione saw this boy with messy hair leaning against the wall,” Samantha began. James already had a fair idea of what happened and started looking for a cluster of eleven year olds. “She went up to him to find out what was wrong—she worries about others like that, you see.”

Peter grinned. “Really, now?”

Samantha didn’t notice his amused tone. “She introduced herself and he just,” she threw up her hand in exasperation. “He just grabbed her hand and ran off with her!” Sirius began to laugh. When Samantha shot him an offended look, he only laughed harder.

“Allow me to explain, Mrs. Granger,” Dorcas intervened. “My husband, Sirius, is laughing because the boy who ran off with your daughter is our godson, Harry. These are Harry’s parents, Lily and James.”

“Oh, well, that’s makes sense then,” Samantha said in a tone that implied she thought they were all mental. Still, she relaxed a little.

“That’s not why I’m laughing,” Sirius gasped. “I think there’s a wedding in our future. Do you remember our first year, James?” Remus and Peter began to laugh heartily, while Lily and James shared a look. “I seem to recall you doing the same to Lily!”

“That’s not how it happened,” James mumbled.

“Oh that’s right,” Dorcas smirked. “I was standing nearby. I saw it all. You tripped over your own feet and fell flat on your face. Then Lily helped you up and you told her she was beautiful and asked her to marry you. Then you dragged her over to meet your parents—her future in-laws, you said.”

Samantha smiled uncomfortably, clearing feeling out of the loop. Lily took pity on her. “I see Harry coming this way. Is that your daughter?” She asked. James could tell by the tone in her voice that she already knew it was. There was one only person with hair like that.

They approached, Harry pulling Hermione. She looked like she did in the photograph. Untamable hair, large front teeth and an immaculate uniform. Her robes looked liked they had just been pressed, and he was willing to bet that the rest of her uniform, tie included, had been given the same treatment. Why wasn’t he surprised? The only thing out of place was the flustered look on her face. She must get that from her mother.

“Mum! Dad!” Harry cheered with a boyish grin. His green eyes glittered with perfectly preserved innocence. His glasses were unbroken, though not for his lack of trying—they‘d been broken when Harry jumped out of a tree, tried to climb the trellis at the Longbottom house and fell, and decided it would be a grand idea to wrestle with the ghoul in the Weasleys’ attic, but James always repaired them.

James smiled as his son approached. He had worked hard over the years to instill the morals in Harry that he had learned from Hermione through their meetings and her journal. Between himself, Lily, and Hermione’s Phantom, they had turned Harry into an easy-going boy with a good sense of good humor, and an understanding that there is right, there is wrong, and there are things in between. He did have a muted sort of arrogance about him, and had no trouble at all breaking rules. James smugly recognized that Harry got that from him.

“This is my new friend, Hermione,” Harry said with a wide grin. “And guess what, her last name is Granger! Isn’t that great?”

“It’s just a coincidence that we have the same name, you know. We’re not related in any way,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure there are several girls named Hermione in the world, as it’s a common practice to name a child for someone famous, and Granger is a common surname. Surely I’m not the only one.” She lightly tugged her hand away, but Harry didn’t let go.

“Does that tone sound familiar?” Remus asked Peter softly.

“Very much.” Peter replied. James could hear his grin. Maybe the two Hermione’s were more alike than he’d originally thought they would be. It was comforting.

“Wow, you’re pretty smart!” Harry said.

Hermione’s shoulders drooped a little and her face fell. Samantha winced and set her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. James got the feeling that Hermione’s intelligence often separated her from her peers. He recalled that, when she had summarized her own life in her journal, she hadn’t mentioned any friends prior to Hogwarts. He realized that there was a strong possibility that she hadn’t had any friends before. She probably expected Harry to abandon their fledgling friendship. Fortunately, he’d raised Harry better than that.

“I’m going to have to actually study if I want to keep up with you.” Harry continued, squeezing her hand a little. James grinned. Harry was quite the charmer.

Hermione looked at him in confusion, then looked up at her mother, not knowing how to react. For someone of her intellectual disposition, James supposed Hermione wasn’t used to anyone simply accepting her bookish nature. Of course, Harry wasn’t like everyone else.

“So, when’s your wedding?” Charlus asked snidely, before making kissing noises at them. Alphard laughed, and Charlus joined him.

“After we graduate,” Harry replied. They stopped laughing.

Hermione stared at him blankly, as if not comprehending his words. “We’re a bit young, don’t you think?” She squeaked.

“That’s why we’re waiting until after we graduate,” Harry replied earnestly.

Hermione’s jaw dropped amidst the laughter. Even Mrs. Granger was amused—and relieved, as far as James could tell. Perhaps she feared her daughter would never love anything but the written word, and would now have a friend. Oh, the things he could tell her.

“Honey,” a few voice broke in. “You found her! Good thing, I was having a spot of trouble.” A man with curly brown hair walked up. “I told a gentleman I was looking for Hermione Granger and he accosted me! He let me go when I told him that I was only looking for my daughter. Though I must say, he didn‘t appreciate my ‘preaching’, I believe he called it. Really I only told him that violence begets violence.”

“Martin Luther King Junior,” Harry said suddenly.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. “You know philosophy?”

“Harry and I talk about different philosophies all the time,” James said, smiling at her. There was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

“What do you think about John Locke’s—”

The first train whistle blew, startling everyone. “Oh dear,” Samantha said. “It’s time for you to go.”

Harry released Hermione’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” Harmony was giggling, but Charlus and Alphard were making gagging noises. Hermione’s face was red.

Mr. Granger looked at the two before looking at the others. “Did I miss something?”

“We need to go,” Hermione said anxiously. “I don’t want to miss the train—what would my professors think of me? I could be expelled!” She looked ill.

Lily laughed beside him. “Don’t worry, Dear, I’m one of your professors, and I’ll make sure you don’t get expelled. Besides, Headmaster Dumbledore is very forgiving.”

“He’d never expel you,” Peter offered comfortingly. “But even so, you’d still better get going.”

James embraced Harry. It was well known that father and son were affectionate with one another. Some wizards told him it would turn Harry into a Nancy boy, but James thought that Harry had more confidence in himself than their sons. Lily kissed him on the cheek and assured him she’d see him soon.

While Sirius, Remus and Peter said their goodbyes, the Grangers were saying goodbye to their daughter. “You’ll remember to brush your teeth?”

“Yes, Dad, I will.”

“You’ll write us everyday?”

“Unless it interferes with my homework, yes, I will write you.”

“You have everyone?”

The second whistle blew.

“Yes, I have everyone, I love you, bye!” She turned to Harry. “Are you ready?” She asked, her normal confidence giving way to bashfulness.

“Yeah, let’s go. Bye everyone, I’ll write soon!”

The two took off to find a somewhere to sit—Harry would probably lead Hermione to his group of friends. She would do well with them.

“Excuse me,” Remus began. “But if I may ask, what did she mean when she said she had everyone?”

The couple laughed. “Well, we didn’t say anything but,” Samantha leaned forward conspiratorially. “They’re her stuffed animals. Hermione adores them. Takes them with her everywhere. What are their names again, Darren?”

“Ah, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, Moony and Sevvy.” He scratched his chin. “She’s had them since she was a baby. There were just in her bassinet with her at the hospital, with little tags around their necks. We don’t know who left them, so we never got to thank them.” Everyone but the Grangers and the children—who had wondered off to some of their own playmates—looked at James. He didn’t notice. He was trying to figure out where the fifth one came from.

“Not Sevvy,” Samantha said. “She got him when she was three. There was this stuffed bat someone had left at the register in the checkout line. She begged me to get him for her, though why she wanted a bat is beyond me—it even has fangs. And that name!”

Darren shrugged. “It was Jane’s idea, remember?” Seeing their stunned looks, he elaborated. “Jane was Hermione’s imaginary friend. I guess a week ago Jane told Hermione she had to go away. It broke her heart. But you know how kids are—they bounce back.”

Silence fell over them. James shared a look with Lily. So Hermione had been more active than he’d thought. Looking at the Grangers, James wondered if he should tell them that the Hermione Granger who killed Voldemort, Jane, and their daughter were all the same person. Perhaps later, when they were a little more accustomed to the wizarding world. Baby steps.

“You dropped this, Sir,” a voice, hauntingly familiar, said. James felt his heart skip a beat. Behind him, Peter made a strangled sound. There standing beside Darren, was a girl of medium height, with wild brown curls, light brown eyes, and scar splicing her eyebrow in two. In her hand, she held a worn leather wallet.

“Thank you, Miss,” he said, taking the wallet from her with a smile. She smiled briefly back before turning away and walking towards the train amidst a few stragglers—Molly Weasley seemed reluctant to let Ron go. “Sweet girl,” Darren said to his wife. “Honest, too. I didn‘t even know I‘d dropped it!”

Just as Hermione set foot on the train, she vanished. Her message was clear. Whether the kids could see her or not, she would be watching. James felt relief wash over him. Harry would be safe. And it seemed that, once again, he’d missed the opportunity to thank her for all she’d done—and was doing.

________

A/N: Ah! Yes, I know, I’m terrible. Hopefully I will be able to finish this story in a timely manner. Only two chapters left, then I have a series of one-shots set in this universe that I can write/post, if you’d like.

I actually wasn’t going to post this. I hate the time skip. I feel it was too abrupt. It bothers me. A lot. But CordeliaHalliwell assured me it was good. If you hate the transition, I’m sorry.

Well, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading, and please review.

Cheers,

Madm_05