To Great Friends
Harry stood at the entrance of Hogwarts, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the Great Hall's enormous oak doors, the chatter and laughter of students spilling out into the corridor. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he felt the color drain from his face.
“I can’t do it,” he whispered, looking up at Remus, panic etched across his features. “I can’t tell Ron and Hermione. What if they don’t accept me?
Remus’s heart sank at Harry’s words. The thought of his son’s friends rejecting him stung more than he expected. “Harry,” he said gently. “they care about you. They’ve always cared. This isn’t just about how you look; it’s about who you are.”
“But what if they can’t see past that? What if they don’t want to be friends anymore?” Harry’s voice trembled with uncertainty.
Remus felt a pang in his chest at the idea of Harry feeling so alone. “It breaks my heart to think of you feeling this way,” he said softly. “But remember, if it doesn’t go well, you can always come to my office after. We’ll have tea, and we can talk about it.”
Harry’s face brightened at the suggestion, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Can I come for tea anyway? Even if it goes well?” he asked, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
“Of course,” Remus replied, his own smile widening. “I’d love that. We can celebrate or just enjoy a quiet moment together.
Taking a deep breath, Harry straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he prepared to walk into the Great Hall. As he stepped through the door, he noticed that no one seemed to pay him any mind, students were bustling about, engrossed in their conversations and laughter.
The realization eased the knot of anxiety in his stomach, allowing him to relax just a bit. He spotted Ron and Hermione at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table, deep in conversation. With determination, he made his way over to them.
“Hey, can I talk to you guys for a minute?” Harry asked, his voice slightly wavering but resolute.
Ron looked up, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. “What do you want?” he snapped, his tone sharper than intended.
Hermione immediately turned to Ron, her eyes wide with surprise. “Ron, that’s not fair! He’s just—”
She cut herself off, her gaze moving back to Harry. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softening. “It’s just that we’re a little stressed out because Harry is missing. We’ve been worried sick about him.”
Harry pushed his hair back, exposing his lightning-shaped scar. “I need to talk to you both privately,” he said, his heart racing as he gauged their reactions.
Hermione’s eyes widened, recognition dawning on her face. “Harry?” she whispered, barely able to process the transformation.
Before he could say anything else, she quickly pulled Ron from the table, her urgency overriding his confusion. “Come on, Ronald! We need to go talk,” she urged, practically dragging him along.
“What? Why? What’s so important that we have to go with this bloke?” Ron complained, clearly annoyed.
“Just trust me, Ron,” Hermione insisted, her voice firm. “It’s important.”
_________________________________
The heavy oak door creaked as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into the empty classroom, the faint scent of old parchment and dust lingering in the air. Dust motes danced in the slanted sunlight streaming through the tall windows, and the weight of anticipation hung between them. Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts, feeling the tension coil in his stomach.
“Alright, I’ll just get to it,” Harry began, his voice steady but low, glancing at Ron and Hermione, who were watching him intently. “I know I look different right now and I don’t look like the friend you guys have had for the past two years, but it’s still me.”
“I went to Gringotts this morning,” Harry continued, pushing aside his nerves. “I found out some stuff—stuff that’s… really big.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed with concern. “What do you mean? What did you find out?”
Taking a deep breath, Harry explained, “I learned that James and Lily Potter… they’re not my parents. I’ve been under glamour charm since I was a baby. That’s why I look different now.”
Ron blinked, clearly trying to process the information. “What? But you’re Harry Potter! You can’t just not be their kid!”
“I am Harry Potter in everything but my legal name,” Harry insisted, his voice firm. “I’ve still done all of the things that Harry Potter has done. I don’t know how to explain it, but when the Healer at Gringotts removed the charm, they were able to tell me the truth.”
“What truth?” Hermione pressed, her expression shifting from concern to intrigue.
Harry took another deep breath, feeling the enormity of his revelation. “Professor Lupin is my dad,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He’s my biological father.”
For a moment, a heavy silence enveloped the room. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of shock and concern. Harry could feel the tension in the air, the weight of what he had just shared pressing down on them.
Finally, Ron broke the silence, his voice a bit too casual. “Well, I mean, I figured that out. You two look so similar, you know? Like, the same hair and all.”
Before Harry could respond, Hermione’s hand flew out, connecting with Ron’s arm in a sharp smack. “Ron! This is a serious situation!” she scolded, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Harry just found out something monumental about his family, and you’re making jokes?”
“Ow!” Ron rubbed his arm, looking bewildered. “I wasn’t trying to joke, Hermione! I just meant—”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, the absurdity of it cutting through the tension. “It’s okay, really,” he said, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s not every day you find out your professor is your dad. I guess we all react differently.”
Hermione’s brows furrowed slightly as she leaned forward, her expression shifting to one of concern. “But, Harry, why didn’t Professor Lupin ever say anything about you being his son? That seems… odd.”
Harry took a breath, the memories flooding back as he explained, “He thought I had died when I was a couple of weeks old. He never got to know me. I found out this morning that there was some mix-up, and I wasn’t really dead. It’s complicated. The Healers at Gringotts… they said I was glamoured to look like James Potter, and that’s how I ended up with the Dursleys. It’s like I was hidden in plain sight.”
“Hidden?” Ron echoed, his eyes wide.
“Yeah,” Harry continued, his voice quieting. “Professor Lupin even told me that he buried my body. There is a plot in his hometown with a baby in it.”
Hermione’s expression grew serious, her brow furrowing deeper as she absorbed the weight of Harry’s words. “That sounds suspicious, Harry,” she said slowly. “I mean, Remus Lupin’s baby dies, and the Potter family just happens to have his real son? And you’re glamoured to look exactly like James? It’s like someone planned it that way.”
Harry nodded, his stomach churning with the weight of the revelations. “Yeah, my dad—Professor Lupin—he feels like something is off too,” he admitted. “He talked to the healer at Gringotts, and apparently, there’s going to be some sort of investigation into everything.”
Ron blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing. “Investigation? What do you mean?”
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know all the details, but it sounds serious. They want to figure out what really happened with my birth and why I was glamoured to look like James.”
Ron furrowed his brow again, his tone shifting. “It’s just weird to hear you call our Professor your dad. I mean, he’s always been Professor Lupin to us. It’s hard to picture him as your father.”
Harry felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. “Does it bother you guys that he’s my dad?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. “I mean, what do you think about how I look?”
Ron glanced at Hermione before responding. “It’s kind of strange, to be honest. We know you and how you looked before, but now… well, it’s just going to take some getting used to. You’ve changed a lot.”
Hermione nodded, her expression softening. “But it doesn’t change our friendship, Harry. You’re still you, no matter what. We’ll always be here for you. You’re our friend first and foremost.”
Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding through him. “Thanks, you guys. It means a lot.”
Ron offered him a reassuring smile. “No problem, mate. Just remember, we’re in this together.”
Hermione nodded, her eyes warm. “And if you need anything or want to talk more, we’re always here.”
“Yeah, I know. You guys are the best,” Harry said, a genuine smile breaking across his face. “I guess I should head to my dad’s office now for tea. I think he’s expecting me.”
“Good luck!” Ron called as Harry stood up, feeling lighter as he moved toward the door.
“Yeah, tell Professor Lupin we said hi!” Hermione added, a teasing lilt in her voice.
As Harry walked down the corridor, the conversation with Ron and Hermione replayed in his mind like a comforting melody. He felt a sense of gratitude wash over him; they had accepted his news without judgment, showing him that their friendship was strong enough to withstand anything, even this monumental change. Harry couldn't help but smile, feeling pleased that the discussion had gone so well. He felt lighter, more at ease with the truth about his parentage and the love that came with it.
With each step, he became more excited about spending time with Remus. The prospect of having a dad, someone who wanted to be there for him, filled him with a sense of hope that he had never known before. He felt like he could face anything with Remus by his side.
Finally arriving at the door to Remus’s office, Harry paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He raised his hand and knocked gently, the sound echoing softly in the quiet hallway.
“Come in!” Remus’s voice called from within, warm and inviting.
Harry pushed the door open and stepped into the cozy confines of Remus's office. The familiar scent of old books mixed with a hint of chamomile tea wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
Remus looked up from his desk, and a genuine smile broke across his face at the sight of Harry.
“Hey there! How did the conversation go?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Harry beamed back, unable to contain his happiness. “It went really well! Ron and Hermione were great about everything. They didn’t freak out or anything. It felt… good, you know?”
Remus's heart swelled at Harry's joy. “I’m so glad to hear that,” he replied, pouring tea into two mismatched cups. He could feel the weight of his own anxieties lifting just a little at the sight of Harry’s radiant smile.
As he set the cups down on the small table between them, Harry reached for one, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic. They sat together, the comforting silence filled only with the soft clinking of cups and the gentle rustling of parchment in the background.
After a few moments, Remus broke the tranquility, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, while you were having your conversation with Ron and Hermione, I was doing a bit of cleaning around here,” he began, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “And guess what I found?”
Harry looked up, curiosity piqued. “What?”
“I found some of my old clothes from when I was at Hogwarts,” Remus replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “They’re a bit worn, but they have some good memories attached to them.”
“Really?” Harry leaned forward, intrigued. “What kind of clothes?”
“Oh, you know—some old sweaters, jeans, some shoes, a couple of robes.I thought maybe you’d like to go through them before I decide to get rid of them. You might find something you’d like to keep.”
Harry’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Can we? I’d love to see them!” The thought of going through Remus’s old things thrilled him.
“Of course! Let me just finish my tea,” Remus said, his smile widening as he raised his cup once more. “Then we can head to my storage room. It’s a bit of a treasure trove in there.”
_______________________________________
After finishing their tea, Remus led Harry to a small storage room tucked away in a corner of the office. As they stepped inside, Harry was greeted by a cozy clutter, the air smelling faintly of aged parchment and wood polish. Shelves lined the walls, filled with old books, trinkets, and boxes, each holding stories of its own.
“Just give me a moment,” Remus said, rummaging through the room. He grabbed a sturdy trunk from the corner, dust motes dancing in the air as he lifted it. “I haven’t opened this in ages.”
Harry watched, his heart racing with anticipation. This was more than just a trunk; it was a glimpse into Remus's past, and he couldn’t help but feel giddy.
Once they emerged from the storage room, Remus set the trunk down on the ground with a soft thud. He knelt beside it and began to undo the latches, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor.
“Here we go,” Remus said, lifting the lid to reveal a treasure trove of old memories. Inside, there were piles of clothes and even a few old books. Harry's eyes widened in delight, the colors and textures sparking his imagination.
“Wow! Look at all this!” he exclaimed, reaching in to pull out a thick, knitted sweater in forest green. It looked warm and cozy, perfect for the chilly Hogwarts nights. He couldn't believe how many sweaters were crammed inside the trunk.
“There are so many!” Harry said, astonished. “Did you really wear all of these?” He held up a striped sweater, the fabric soft against his skin.
“Ah, yes, the classics,” Remus replied with a chuckle. “I had quite a fondness for sweaters back in my day.”
Harry dove deeper into the trunk, finding a few pairs of jeans that looked like they might fit him perfectly. He pulled out a cream shirt, inspecting it closely. “This is really nice! And it matches the sweater!”
Then, tucked away at the bottom, he found an old pair of Converse shoes, their canvas slightly faded but still sturdy. He slipped them on, and they fit like a glove. “Dad! Look at these!” he said, bouncing on his toes. “They’re perfect!”
Harry’s excitement was palpable as he grabbed the jeans, the shirts, and as many sweaters as he could carry. “Can I try them on? Please?” he asked, practically bouncing on his feet.
“Of course! Go ahead,” Remus replied, smiling at Harry’s enthusiasm. “I want to see how they look on you.”
Harry hurried off to the corner of the storage room, feeling giddy as he changed into the clothes. The moment he stepped out, wearing the cream shirt and the green sweater over it, he felt like a new person.
“How do I look?” he asked, spinning around to show off his new outfit.
Remus chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You look fantastic! You’ve got great taste, Harry—after all, those clothes are mine,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with nostalgia. “In fact, you look almost exactly like I did when I was younger.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a swell of pride. “Do you have any pictures?” The idea of seeing his dad as a young man intrigued him.
“Actually, I do!” Remus said, his excitement matching Harry’s. “I have a few old photos tucked away in a box. Let me grab them for you.” He stepped back into the storage room, rummaging through the various containers until he pulled out a small, weathered box.
“Here it is,” he said, returning to Harry with the box in hand. “Let’s see if I can find a few that capture my youthful glory.”
As he opened the box, Harry leaned in closer, eager to see the images of his dad from a time long before he had known him. Remus sifted through the pictures, his expression softening as he recalled memories tied to each snapshot.
“This one,” he said, pulling out a photo of a younger Remus in a similar green sweater, his hair tousled and a playful grin on his face. “I was about your age here.”
Harry’s eyes lit up. “You really do look like me!”
Remus chuckled, holding up the picture for Harry to see. “And look at this one! That’s me and the Marauders. We were a bit of a handful, but we had fun.”
As they shared stories and laughter over the photos, Harry felt a sense of connection not only to Remus but to a history he was just beginning to understand.