Title: Prongs Rides Again
Summary: After a particular vicious time at the Dursley's, Harry makes a wish: to have a father figure. James Potter is granted another chance at life. Harry's future is changed forever. Set during Fifth Year.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP
Notes: This story follows Harry's fifth year, with one thing: James Potter is alive. Look for a few changes in the story, but the overall plot is the same.
-Prongs Rides Again-
It had been a normal day at number 4 Privet Drive. Or would have been if something unusual had not happened. The four people that lived in this house were remarkable different in many ways. Three were Dursleys and one was a Potter. Vernon Dursley was the man of the house; a large beefy man with a moustache. He was round and looked much like a large sack of potatos when you viewed him from afar. Vernon's wife, Petunia was different. Skinny and boned, Petunia was the local gossiper. She loved to spy on the neighbours to see what secrets they could be hiding. However she was hiding one of her own, yet only her immediate family knew of it. She had brown short hair, and horsy-boned cheeks, unlike her husband. What she saw in him no one knew, but she loved Vernon Dursley with all her heart. The couple had one son, a giant pig - well he would be if he kept on eating - Dudley (that was his name) was blond, rather round, so that when he sat at the kitchen table part of his backside fell off of the chair. Not the ideal son mind you, but the perfect one for Vernon and Petunia. The fourth member of the family looked nothing like them. Harry Potter was the son of Petunia's deceased sister who had been murdered when Harry was a year old. Harry was tall and skinny, with messy black hair that fell in strands about his face. His eyes were deep, green colour, and atop his forehead was a lightening bolt scar.
But Harry Potter was no ordinary boy.
He was a wizard, and a famous one at that. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. Unlike Dudley who had had the privilege of a good home, Harry had never known his parents. For ten years he had believed his parents to be the innocent victims of a car crash, invented by the Dursleys, however on his eleventh birthday Harry had discovered the truth. James and Lily Potter had given their lives to save him from the Dark Wizard Voldemort. To this day, Harry had no clue as to why he had not died that night, instead he had survived with the scar as the only souvenir of that terrible night.
Harry had never known his parents. He wished that he had.
The unusual thing that happened at Privet Drive was the presence of Dementors that had attacked Harry and Dudley when they'd been walking home from their nightly wanderings. Arguing as always, Dudley failed to notice the Dementors (as a Muggle he could not see them anyway) but Harry had. Taking out his wand, Harry had conjured his Patronus (EXPECTO PATRONUM) driving the Dementors away. Dudley, had been affected, scared out of his wits, Harry's cousin could barely move.
Then another shock of the evening had been the revelation that Arabella Fig, Harry's batty cat-loving neighbour, was really a Squib, a person with magical parents but possessed no magical ability themselves. She had helped Harry and Dudley back to the house where afterwards Harry had been accused of turning his wand onto Dudley and making him insane. The Dursley's had no clue about the Dementors, save Petunia who, it seems, had been keeping information to herself.
After a raging argument that had been interrupted by the arrival of several Owls, Harry had finally been sent to his room where he laid in peace, his mind thumping with questions. Who would send Dementor's to attack him? Voldemort? Harry sighed and rolled over on his bed, looking at a photo of his parents. They were dancing on an ice rink. James held Lily's hands: they were happy, laughing and smiling. Harry felt his throat tighten. He wished he could have known them.
"I need a father-figure" Harry said firmly"I need someone to guide me through this. Anyone."
He looked up out of his window at the cloudless sky, where stars shined down upon Little Whinging. The brightest star sat in the centre. Harry perched himself at his window, looking out at the star, focusing his eyes upon the star. "Please, I don't wish for much, and what I do, never gets granted. I wish...for a father figure, someone who will be there for me when others can not be. I am not whole without that. Please...I wish for a father-figure...please."
He bowed his head in grief.
Far up in the heaven's someone heard Harry's plea. And in the centre of the star formed a face. One like Harry's but slightly different.
The heaven's were working an ancient magic in Harry's favour.
This is my first HP fic. I know there are lot's of James comes back to life stories but I thought I'd try my hand at one. Please note that the whole story takes place during The Order of the Phoenix. Some things will change, others will remain the same, but please give me a chance. I've never written anything like this before.
Let me know what you think! Chapters will get longer, I promise!