Theophanes

Title: Theophanes
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandom: Harry Potter Series
Pairing: Harry/Theodore, (past)(one sided) Harry/Ginny
Word Count: 2.5k
Rating: PG
Warnings: time travel, homosexuality, male pregnancy, potions, suggested abortion, memory tampering, name changes, Snape is alive, EWE
Prompt: for Heidi Dignas who wanted Harry/Theo, time travel, and pureblood culture.  This is a point of view that you probably were not expecting, but this came to me in a dream fully formed.  We just have to love James Sirius!

Theophanes

James Sirius woke one morning and it was all different.

First, his mum was gone.  So were her clothes and her Quidditch broom.  He didn’t notice at first because she had a tendency to disappear for long amounts of time when she and Dad were having one of their “domestics” as Grandma Weasley would say.

Then, Dad was making breakfast with magic.  He never did that.  He always made it the Muggle way.

James Sirius could only stare. 

But there he was with his wand, scrambling up some eggs.

“Da?” he asked, and Dad turned to him with a smile.

“What are you doing today, Theophanes?” he asked brightly.

James Sirius just stared at him.  Who was Theophanes?

A crease formed in the middle of Dad’s eyebrows like it sometimes did.  It always gave him an odd look with the old scar to the left of his forehead, deep and ugly.  Dad liked to try and cover it up with his fringe, but it always fell open to reveal the old hurt.

“Theophanes?” Dad asked again, portioning out four plates of eggs with bacon.

James Sirius stared at the four plates.  Four?

Dad came over and placed the back of his hand on James Sirius’s forehead.  “No, I didn’t think you looked ill, Phan.  Hmm.”  He levitated a plate in front of him along with a fork.  Fortunately, the world hadn’t gone completely bonkers as Dad remembered he didn’t like ketchup with his eggs.  That would have been a tragedy.

There was the sound of footsteps toward the stairs and a boy, about eleven years old, came down the stairs.  He looked nothing like either Dad or James Sirius.

Dad had black messy hair and green eyes. 

James Sirius had inherited the messy hair but his Grandma Lily’s deep auburn color and the brown eyes of his mother, Ginny.  People said he looked all like his mum, but he thought he looked nothing like her.  He looked like a Potter and an Evans, despite the eyes.  He was his dad’s son, through and through.  He’d curse his eyes, if he could, but he was only going into third year and hadn’t learned magic advanced enough yet.

This boy—whoever he was—had his dad’s—James Sirius’s dad’s—shocking green eyes, but sleek chocolate curls.  He looked like he was dad’s kid with someone else.

What was happening?  Had he woken up in a strange dream where Dad had finally divorced his mum and married someone else?  But this kid was too old for that, the divorce would have had to have taken place when James Sirius was a toddler, for this boy to be Dad’s child.

“Good morning,” the boy said sleepily, yawning.

Dad looked over at him and grinned.  “Hey, there, Time.  Eggs are up!”

Time?  This kid was named ‘Time’?

Dad levitated a plate of eggs and bacon over to a spot next to James Sirius and the boy came over, picking up a fork and quickly digging into the eggs.  He grinned up to James Sirius, who knew this must be some strange form of magic.  This kid could not be his half brother, but his dad’s eyes were shining out of his face.  Those were his grandmother’s eyes.

Leaning forward, Dad ruffled Time’s curls with a smile before glancing back at James Sirius in concern.

“Your father will be down in a second,” he told James Sirius, confusing him even more.  “I’ll see what he thinks.”

Father?  Dad was James Sirius’s father. 

Dad, though, didn’t seem to notice that James Sirius’s breathing had picked up.  He’d picked up his own fork and started eating his own eggs. 

A salt and pepper shaker were floating over the table.  Actually floating.  Dad’s magic was doing that—his casual magic.  Dad never used household magic so casually.  Mum complained about it when she bothered to complain about anything.

Dad grew up with Muggles, however.  He didn’t even know about magic until his eleventh birthday.

He wasn’t like Mum who was a pureblood.

James Sirius was technically a pureblood as all four of his grandparents were wizards, but Dad didn’t have that kind of childhood.  Now, though, now he was acting as though he had always known about magic.

It was just strange.

He was so busy staring at his dad, James Sirius almost didn’t notice the wizard coming in from the back garden, a wizard who looked so much like Time, with chocolate curls, and dark eyes.  He was middle height, a couple inches shorter than Dad.  He walked into the kitchen, gave Dad a kiss on the cheek, taking his plate, and smiling at both James Sirius and Time.

James Sirius stared at him as if he was a double headed dragon.

Dad turned to the wizard.  “Theophanes is feeling a bit off.”

“Off?” the wizard asked, looking concerned.  “What’s wrong, Phan?”

“I—I think I’m having a nightmare,” he answered honestly.  “Or a weird dream.”

An odd look passed over the wizard’s face, as if he just might understand.  He looked over at the grandfather clock that showed where every member of the family member was.  Instead of three hands, which should show where Dad, Mum, and James Sirius were (Mum was constantly at a boyfriend’s house and therefore perpetually in ‘mortal peril’), there were four hands, all pointed toward ‘home.’  Four of them—Dad, James Sirius, Time, and this wizard. 

“I think I know a potion,” the wizard said, glancing over at Dad.  “I’ll ask Professor Snape.”

Professor Snape?  Professor Snape? James Sirius thought.  Professor Snape had died just before the Final Battle.  Dad had always said if he and Mum had had a second son, he would have been named Albus Severus, after Albus Dumbledore and Professor Snape, Hogwarts’ two greatest Headmasters.

Uncle Ron always rolled his eyes when Dad said this, and James Sirius knew that Mum agreed with him and not Dad, but James Sirius believed everything Dad said about the war.  Mum stayed safe at Hogwarts, living in the Room of Requirement while Dad risked his life.  Uncle Ron had abandoned Dad and Aunt Hermione during the Horcrux Hunt.  What did he know?

Dad winked at James Sirius who relaxed a little despite the weird situation.

Glancing at the grandfather clock, he knew he should get a better look at it once everyone had finished their breakfast.

“Theotimus,” the wizard said in what seemed like a deliberate way, looking at Time, “are you going over to see Scorpius today?”

“I thought I would,” Time answered.  “I thought we’d go flying.”

“Good,” the wizard answered.  “And you’ll be painting, Harry,” he said to Dad.

What?  Dad?  Paint?

James Sirius stared at Dad who was blushing. 

“I’m finishing up a commission.  It’s proving difficult to remain hidden even under my Invisibility Cloak with all my paints and my canvas.  It’s a birthday present.”

“I’m sure you can sneak around,” Time cheered, lifting up his fork.  “You’re the best at sneaking, especially for birthdays!”

Dad smiled at Time and looked at the boy—who must be another of his sons—and how weird was that?—before going back to his eggs.

Last time James Sirius checked, Dad was an Auror with Uncle Ron.  Uncle Ron and Mum had rather strongarmed Dad into joining the Auror Department after the War.  It was thought that since he had killed Voldemort, he’d be good at catching Dark Wizards.  It was also thought that Uncle Ron, with his disloyalty to Dad and Aunt Hermione during the war, wouldn’t get into the Auror Department unless he followed Dad in and on Dad’s recommendation.

James Sirius didn’t quite understand all the nuances of it, but Dad had promised to explain it all when he was old enough.

Aunt Hermione had gone into the Ministry and was now Minister of Magic.

Wait.  If Dad painted—and James Sirius never even knew that Dad liked to paint—did that mean that Uncle Ron wasn’t an Auror and Aunt Hermione wasn’t Minister for Magic?

Was Mum still a Quidditch Player or had her divorce from the Conqueror ruined her career ambitions?

James Sirius was breathing a little quickly again and had completely forgotten his eggs.

The wizard was watching him carefully.

“Harry,” the wizard said carefully, “you can get Theotimus to Malfoy Manor, can’t you?  I’m going to take Phan to Hogwarts now.  He’s a little worse for wear.”

“Oh,” Harry said, looking over at James Sirius worriedly.  “If you think that’s best, Theo.”

Great.  This wizard was named ‘Theo,’ too.  James Sirius was Theophanes.  Time was Theotimus.  And whoever this wizard was, he was Theosomething.

Theosomething set down his fork and went to go get a cloak that was on the hooks near the door and fetched James Sirius’s, too.  This frightened James Sirius more than anything.  Theosomething knew which cloak belonged to James Sirius.

He came around back to the kitchen and put it on James Sirius’s shoulder and murmured, “Let’s get you to Hogwarts.”

James Sirius didn’t move a muscle.

“I know you don’t know me,” Theosomething conceded, “but you trust your Dad’s judgment, don’t you?”

James Sirius nodded and, after a long second which caught Dad’s attention, he allowed himself to be led to the floo.

He’d never been to the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, but he didn’t really notice it.  James Sirius did, however, notice the man behind the desk.  He was tall, thin, pale, and had a hooked nose.

“What is this, Mr. Nott?” he intoned, looking up at them from where he was conversing with a portrait of Albus Dumbledore.  “Why do you bring your offspring with you a full fortnight before start of term?”

“I needed a quiet moment with Phan and Harry thinks I’m fetching a potion.”

“Lying?” Professor Snape asked, seeming impressed.  “I didn’t know there was any dishonesty in your relationship with Mr. Potter-Nott.  How fascinating.”  He looked over at James Sirius.  “I hope you will continue your record, Mr. Potter-Nott, of not gaining detention, unlike your Potter father.—You may go.”

“Thank you,” Theodore Nott answered before leading James Sirius down a turning staircase and out into a corridor.

When they reached the hallway, James Sirius looked up at this man who had been nothing but a name.  “Dad mentioned you—once.”

Theodore Nott’s eyes met his.  “I’m surprised he mentioned me at all,” he conceded, as he placed his hand on James Sirius’s back and guided him down the corridor toward another staircase and up to an office.  “He did not pay attention to me at all when we were at Hogwarts—the first time around.”

James Sirius looked around.  “Do you know a School Governor?”

“Harry is a School Governor,” he answered as they settled in front of a summer fire.  “As his husband—and your father—I have access to this office.”

James Sirius startled.  “He did divorce Mum then.  Somehow.  Now.”  He looked into the fire.  “Am I dreaming?”

“He did not divorce your mother,” Theodore Nott carefully explained.  “He never married her in this timeline.”

James Sirius looked up suddenly, taking in Theodore Nott.

“I accessed a time turner—with a twist—on this date—August 13^th—last time,” he explained, “and I went back.  I lived our lives again.”

“Why?” James Sirius asked, confused, not refuting the claim that Theodore Nott had used a time turner.  He knew about time turners.  Aunt Hermione had used one her third year at Hogwarts.

“I had always loved your dad,” Theodore Nott confessed carefully though with no shame.  “He never noticed me the first time.  So I discovered how to de-age myself and I used the time turner to go back.  I met Harry his first day in Diagon Alley and I won his friendship—and his love our fourth year—and I changed everything.  We defeated The Dark Lord our fifth year, we completed Hogwarts together, we married, and you, Theophanes, are a product of love and not Ginny Weasley’s lust for power.”

James Sirius did not refute his mother’s motives.  He knew what she was.  He knew she broke his dad’s heart every day and the only reason they were still together was because he was still Hogwarts age and his dad would not break up the household, foolishly believing any marriage was better than a broken marriage.

“Wizards can’t have children.  I must have a mother somewhere.  I’m still me.”

Theodore Nott conjured a mirror.

James Sirius took it and nearly dropped it when he saw his reflection.  Instead of the messy auburn hair he thought he had, he had sleek auburn curls.  He had Lily’s hair color, but Theodore Nott’s curls.  And his eyes.  They weren’t Ginny Weasley’s eyes.  They were Theodore Nott’s dark eyes.

“Headmaster Snape developed a potion that allow wizards to conceive.  Harry—this time around—followed his passion for painting and carried both you and Theotimus in his body.”

James Sirius looked up in suspicion.

“It’s magic,” Theodore Nott conceded.  “I have photographic evidence at home.  I wouldn’t ask your Dad too directly.  He doesn’t know I went back in time.”

“We are all Theos,” James Sirius noted cautiously.  “I’m not ‘James Sirius’ anymore.”

“My father was Theocritus.  Your uncle is Theodred Nott,” Theodore Nott told him.

James Sirius thought that was a bit much. 

“Then all my cousins—all the Weasleys—aren’t my cousins.  I don’t have any friends.”

“You have friends,” Theodore Nott answered, taking back the mirror and banishing it, “they’re just not Weasleys.  You’re very close to your younger brother, who we think might go into Slytherin.”

“Am I in Gryffindor?”

“Yes,” Theodore Nott told him with a genuine smile.  “You followed your dad there.  Perhaps you should look back through your letters and you’ll relearn who your friends are, who you are.  I’m sorry you remember a life that no longer exists.  I knew there was a sliver of a possibility, but it should only last today, and tomorrow you will remember our life as the Potter-Notts.”

James Sirius shrank into himself.  “How can I remember?”

Theodore Nott looked into the fire.  “You must be a holdover.  You didn’t remember yesterday.  You shouldn’t remember tomorrow.”

Yes, James Sirius thought, perhaps he wouldn’t remember tomorrow.  He could only hope for that.

The End.