Dora Potter sat in the waiting room in St. Mungo's, staring blankly at the wall, her eyes unfocused. Minerva McGonagall, Elphinstone Urquart, and Florian Fortesque. Florian sat quietly to one side, pale so that his freckles stood out against his face. Minerva's hand was wrapped tightly up in Dora's, and Elphinstone sat beside her, one arm over her shoulders. None of them were speaking, just sitting together in silence.

The door of the room burst open and James came running in, followed by Lily Evans a few steps behind. He skid to a stop when he came in the room, seeing the cluster of people there, seeing his mum's face, the hot tear tracks that hadn't even yet dried upon her skin still shining in the lamp light.

Dora's eyes flickered to James, and stared at him for a long moment, as though not recognizing him for a moment. Then, when she did, she burst into tears all over again, and she got up and went to him, enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug, burying her face into his shoulder as she shook.

"Mum," James said, the word barely coming out of his mouth for how dry his throat felt.

Lily stood a couple steps away from James, her face worried, and she glanced at McGonagall, the question in her eyes. McGonagall nodded slightly, confirming Lily's fear. Lily turned back to James and Dora. She had been dreading this moment. She knew exactly how James felt, she'd felt it, too, not so long ago, and the only thing that had comforted her then had been him - even before she ever thought he had the ability to do that. Now, it was her turn. She had to be strong for him the way he'd been strong for her then. The thing was that Charlus Potter had been a father to all of them, not just to his actual son. James was not the only one who would feel the ramifications of this loss. Lily felt breathless, too.

She could feel the shift, the loss of protection, and she remembered suddenly the question she'd been going to ask Mr. Potter the night before, at the reception. Talking about the power of wielding one's love, she'd meant to ask him if he had learned to wield it, and, if he had, how to do it herself. Now it was obvious from the air in the room that he had learned how to do it, and had been doing it for years.

"Where's Sirius?" Dora asked, "Does he know?"

"No mum," James answered, "I thought he should enjoy his honeymoon. There's nothing he could do here anyway."

Dora nodded. She was so weak that James was literally holding her up, keeping her from falling to the floor in a heap. He clung to her. Then, having built up his courage, he asked, "May I - may I see him?"

Minnie's eyes glossed.

Dora nodded, "They said we may, if we needed to. I've been. I told them to - to leave him be until you'd come. In case you - wanted -" she broke apart again.

Lily came over and wrapped her arms around Dora, collecting her from James and gently guiding her to the row of seats. "C'mon mum," she said softly, gently, "Let's sit together over here. Tell me your favorite memories of Mr. Potter, won't you? Something lovely about him..."

As Lily led Dora away, James turned to the private room. His palms sweat heavily as he reached for the knob, and he stood still, taking deep breaths for several moments, hovering there, unable to open it.

Finally, he pushed the door opened.

Charlus lay on the bed, as though simply asleep, his face peacefully still. James hung back a moment, nervous, as though going closer might wake him. The thought of it was both something he hoped for and something that terrified him at once. It's your dad, you git, he thought to himself, and he felt a chill tremble down his spine.

James inched closer until he reached the side of the bed, and he felt as though his throat were closed up and he couldn't speak. He took Charlus's hand in his own, gripping it tightly, and feeling a pang of hurt when his father's fingers did not close back around his own.

"Dad," he said thickly, tears pouring down his cheeks now. "Dad. Please. Wake up."

James lifted Charlus's hand up, holding it between two of his own, and he brought the hand up to his cheek and held it there, his face crumpling.

He hung his head and let himself absorb the fact that he could not wake his father from this sleep.

Or could he?

James looked at Charlus's still face.

"Dad, hang on, alright? I'll fix this. I'll - I'll save you, alright? Whatever I have to do. Dumbledore will know a way. You know what I need? I need a time turner, that's what! I'll fix this. I promise. You wait and see. I'm coming, I swear!" And he turned, hurrying out the door.

It was the morning after the wedding, the sun young in the sky over the forest, and Dumbledore was in his office, pouring over some maps and complicated notes from Alastor Moody, when his office door burst open and James Potter came in. Dumbledore looked up, his glasses set on the end of his nose, and his eyebrows went up at the sight of James. "Mr. Potter," he said, his tone carrying the confusion he was feeling, "To what do I owe the --"

"I need a time turner."

"What?"

"The time turner that you gave me, the one you made me use in fifth year. I need another." James was pink in the cheeks, breathless, he'd run all the way to Dumbledore's office from Hogsmeade, where he'd apparated. He was dizzy, the office seemed to spin about him.

Dumbledore put aside the quill he'd had in his hand and he stood up, coming around the desk, "What is the matter, James?" he asked.

"I have to go back in time, I have to change it, I have to stop --" James choked on his words, and he shook his head, "I can't - I can't just let him die, sir."

"Who's died?" Dumbledore asked, concern now thick in his voice.

"My dad!" James shouted, irritated at Dumbledore for not already knowing. Surely if Gideon Prewett knew, then the whole Order should've known, but here was Albus Dumbledore, acting the fool, pretending not to know precisely why James was here. "I can't just let him die."

Dumbledore's hand covered his mouth and he hesitated, then he said, "Oh James, I am so very sorry for the loss that you have suffered."

"Don't be sorry," James snapped, "Just give me the bloody time turner, Dumbledore. I'm going to go back and I'm going to kill that evil bitch long before she ever had a chance to infect him with the bloody Dragon Pox to begin with - Druella.. I don't care that she's had the Kiss, I don't care. I want her dead. And I want him alive. I'm going to go back and I'm going to kill her, and he's never going to become sick, he's never going to suffer like he has all these years."

Dumbledore waited for James to finish, and then he waved his palm to the chair in front of his desk. "Mr. Potter, please. Have a seat."

"Dumbledore!" James shouted, angry now, his face going from pink to red, "I don't have time to sit and listen to you spout off ruddy speeches and pretty words, I need to get my dad back."

"James, I must insist that you have a seat."

James stared at Dumbledore with a look of defiance. Dumbledore waved his wand and a seat appeared, sweeping behind James and forcing him to sit down. "There," Dumbledore said, "That's better."

James made to get up, but found that he couldn't. Dumbledore had somehow taken away his ability to get to his feet, keeping him seated. James scowled.

"When did your father pass, James?"

"During the night. Alone at Mungo's." James stared at the floor, anger broiling within him. "He was FINE, Dumbledore. He was FINE. He was at the bloody wedding, he was there, and he was talking to me and Evans and Mum and Minnie, he was FINE. You saw him, you came with him, you --"

"James, your father has been very, very ill for quite some time and he has kept it very, very quiet, not telling you or anyone else about his declining condition."

James shook his head, "No, I've seen him, I've --"

"You've not been allowed to see what's truly going on," Dumbledore said quietly. "I did not come WITH your parents to Costa Rica to the wedding, Mr. Potter, but I BROUGHT THEM to it. I brought your father, at least, because we were fearful of his ability to apparate such a great distance without splinching. So we did side-along. And your father's pride was quite affected."

James closed his eyes, as though not being able to see Dumbledore might make the blow of his words hurt less.

"James, your father's Dragon Pox has steadily declined for years. He lived a great deal longer than anyone with Dragon Pox ever has."

"Which is why I want to go back and stop him ever getting it," James interjected.

Dumbledore sighed, "You cannot traverse that far back in time, James, without causing very, very severe damages to the timeline in which you are living. Even the smallest change could have incredible consequences that you may not even expect. I know that you have suffered much from the changes you made in your fifth year, only having traveled a month or two! Now imagine, then, how much more extreme the ramifications could be of your changing even the smallest ruffle of time so far back? Years, James. Even the direction in which the wind blows on a given day can alter history completely when you have traveled so far back in time."

"Mopsus does it."

"Mopsus sees time in a very different, nonlinear way compared to the rest of us, Mr. Potter. He can see which strings are pulled and which are in need of tweaking. He orchastrates fate in ways that none of us will ever be able to understand." Dumbledore's voice was emphatic. "You are not Mopsus, and you are not capable of making such changes without causing chaos that would drive you completely insane."

"Then I want to go back and have more time with him," James demanded. "I want him back."

"And disturb the rest that your father has finally found?"

James stared at Dumbledore in a challenging way, his eyes searching Dumbledore's.

"Your father has suffered very much, ever since he contracted the Dragon Pox, and he is now at peace." Dumbledore shook his head, "It is a terrible thing, to die from Dragon Pox. The lungs turn to ash slowly, and every breath discintegrates them more and more, until they finally do not have the integrity to complete a breath. The air expands the lungs and they simply..." Dumbledore made a motion with his hands that indicated letting go. "Charlus Potter lived a very noble, very happy life with you and Dora, with his friends. He fought alongside mighty witches and wizards and he accomplished a good many dreams. Despite the Dragon Pox ravishing his lungs, your father stayed active until hours before his death."

"They say he was confused," murmured James. "The mediwitches said he kept saying he had to go to the wedding... as though he hadn't already been."

Dumbledore nodded, "That is quite common, as the body surrenders, for the mind to forget or to lose grip with reality around it." He studied James for a long moment. "Please, take comfort in knowing that your father was ready, James, he was tired and he is now at peace."

"My dad didn't want to die."

"Want to? No. But there is a time when wanting to and being ready to are quite different... It is very hard for the young mind to imagine, but when one has been through a hard time, it often comes as a welcomed respite to pass on, Mr. Potter. The journey of the soul continues onto its next experience, whatever that may be, and the body takes its well earned rest. It is rather like going to sleep after a very, very long day, and it is most welcomed in the same way."

"But he - he didn't get to do so many things, he didn't get to see - he -" James stammered, and tears began to flood his eyes, "Dumbledore, my dad didn't get to come to MY wedding."

Dumbledore rested a palm on James's shoulder. "He will be there just the same, in spirit, Mr. Potter."

James hung his head, tears flowing freely now, and he covered his face with his hands, not wanting Dumbledore to see him falling apart. "My dad was the greatest man on the earth, Dumbledore," he choked the words out, "And maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't know how to live without him here and even if he was ready to go, I - I'm not ready for him to be gone."

Dumbledore knelt, looking up at James's face, and he took his hands and parted them so that he could look directly into his eyes. "The living are never ready for their loved ones to be gone, but they are never far away, either. They are always right here within you, all around you. They are a part of you. Charlus is a part of you, James. I see him in your eyes and in your mannerisms. I hear him in your voice, and in your passion. Your father has not gone far at all, but is rather always accessible, simply by searching inside of yourself."