A Cold Conversation
The sun filtered softly through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the cozy space. Harry sat at the small wooden table, enjoying a bowl of porridge and fresh fruit while chatting with Remus about his plans for the day.
"So, after breakfast, I thought we could head to the village and explore a bit more," Remus said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "There's a lovely little shop that sells all sorts of interesting things—books, trinkets, and even some homemade sweets."
Harry's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "That sounds amazing! I’d love to see what they have."
Just as Remus smiled in response, a sudden loud popping sound pierced the air outside the cottage, followed by an urgent rapping on the door that rattled the frame.
“Harry,” Remus instructed firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern. “Go upstairs to your room.”
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but the intensity of Remus’s gaze silenced him. The worry etched on his father's face sent an unsettling feeling through Harry’s stomach. He knew better than to challenge that look. With reluctance, he left his plate half-finished and stood up, the sound of the rapping echoing in his ears as he made his way towards the stairs. At the top of the staircase, he hesitated, his curiosity getting the better of him. Instead of heading to his room, he quietly edged around the corner of the banister, straining to hear the conversation below.
“Who is it?” Remus asked, opening the door.
“Ah, Remus,” came the cool voice of Albus Dumbledore. Harry’s stomach dropped at the sound of the headmaster's tone. It was devoid of warmth, as if they were old adversaries instead of friends.
“Dumbledore,” Remus replied, equally coolly. “What brings you here?”
Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light of the cottage. “I received your letter last night, Remus. I must say, I found it quite alarming.” His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of authority. “You must be mistaken in your belief that you have the right to keep Harry here. He is not your son. Legally and magically, he remains under my guardianship.”
Remus's expression hardened, anger flaring within him. “That’s not how it works, Albus. I am Harry’s biological father. I’ve taken him in, and I intend to protect him. You cannot just waltz in here and demand that I hand him over.”
“I’m afraid I can,” Dumbledore replied, his tone growing more authoritative. “As his legal magical guardian, I have the responsibility to ensure that Harry is raised in a household that I deem suitable for his well-being. And given the circumstances, it is clear that he cannot remain with you.”
Harry’s heart dropped at Dumbledore’s words. Panic surged within him, and he instinctively looked to Remus, seeking reassurance in his father’s unwavering resolve. But Remus’s expression hardened, the protective instinct blazing in his eyes.
“Dumbledore,” Remus began, his voice steady but tinged with anger. “Your claim as Harry’s magical guardian was only legal when he was believed to be an orphan. According to the Magical Guardianship Act of 1969, if an alternate parent is identified, magical and legal guardianship transfers to that parent.”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “Remus, you cannot be serious—”
“I am very serious,” Remus interrupted, stepping closer to the doorframe, blocking Dumbledore’s entry with his presence. “Harry is my son, and your authority here is not just unwelcome; it’s misplaced.
Dumbledore’s demeanor shifted, a calculating glint entering his eyes. “Is that so? You should know that if you continue to obstruct my efforts, I will have no choice but to bring this matter to the Ministry of Magic. They would take a very dim view of your actions, Remus, especially considering your... history.”
Remus narrowed his eyes, undeterred by Dumbledore’s veiled threat. “Go ahead. Bring it to the Ministry. I won’t be intimidated by your attempts to scare me into submission. You may have power, but this is not a battle of authority—it’s about Harry.”
“Believe me, I understand the stakes,” Dumbledore replied, his voice cool and even. “But the Ministry will not see it that way. They will not look kindly on a werewolf acting as guardian to a child, especially one of Harry’s standing.”
Remus’s expression hardened, a resolute determination fueling his words. “I have enough evidence and witnesses to prove that Harry is my biological son. If it comes to a case, I can show the Ministry everything—the conditions he endured with the Dursleys, how they treated him. They wouldn’t dare place him back in that abusive home, regardless of who insists on it.”
Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened, a glimmer of warning flashing in his eyes. “Remus, you may think you are acting in Harry’s best interest, but I assure you, you will regret this decision.”
Remus held Dumbledore’s gaze, unyielding. “I won’t regret it. I know what’s right for Harry, and the conversation is over. I want you to leave.” His voice was firm, each word resonating with a depth of emotion that left no room for argument.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond, but Remus raised a hand to stop him. “No more words, Albus. You’ve made your stance clear, and I’ve made mine. Harry is my son, and I will not allow you to take him away. Not now, not ever.”
Harry's heart raced as he listened to the door close with a definitive thud. He had been frozen in place on the staircase, his pulse pounding in his ears as he strained to hear the conversation unfolding below. The tension in the air was thick, and every word exchanged between Remus and Dumbledore felt like a heavy weight pressing down on his chest.
A moment later, Harry heard Remus’s voice call out, his tone firm but gentle. “Harry, come down here. I know you’re not in your room.”
Caught, Harry hesitated for just a moment, then slowly descended the stairs, the wood creaking beneath his feet. As he reached the bottom, he found Remus leaning against the doorframe, his expression a mix of exasperation and worry.
“Harry,” Remus said, running a hand through his hair, “how much of that conversation did you hear?”
Harry bit his lip, feeling a mix of guilt and fear. “I heard it all,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Remus’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a frustrated sigh. “I told you to go to your room, didn’t I? You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. What if Dumbledore saw you?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just... I was curious.”
Remus raised an eyebrow, frustration flickering accross his face. “Curious about what? Hearing me argue with your Headmaster?”
Harry hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I didn’t want to be left in the dark. What if something was really happening? I couldn’t just sit in my room and—”
“And what? Eavesdrop on grown-up conversations? You need to understand, Harry, there are things that you aren’t meant to hear first hand.” Remus sighed, his voice softening. “I know it’s hard, but this is about your safety.”
“I get that,” Harry replied, crossing his arms defensively. “But I just wanted to know what was going on. I didn’t want to feel... I don’t know, helpless.”
Remus nodded, his expression softening. “I’m not going to purposely hide important things from you, Harry. I was actually planning to come up to your room right after Dumbledore left to explain everything.”
Harry felt his cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and relief washing over him. “I didn’t know that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.
Remus smiled gently, brushing a hand through his hair. “I know you want to feel included, and you deserve that. But sometimes, there are things I have to sort out first before I can share them with you. It’s not about keeping you in the dark; it’s about ensuring you have the right information at the right time. Do you understand?”
Harry's brow furrowed, not pleased with the explanation but feeling the weight of his father's sincerity. “I understand,” he replied reluctantly, crossing his arms.
Harry’s brow furrowed as he absorbed his dad’s words. “I understand,” he replied, though his voice was laced with dissatisfaction. “It just feels unfair sometimes. I want to be part of everything, not just waiting around.”
Remus nodded, his expression softening as he recognized the frustration in Harry’s eyes. “I know it’s not easy. I wish I could tell you everything right now, but some things need careful handling.”
“I get that,” Harry said reluctantly. “But it’s still hard.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “But I trust you, Dad. I really do.”
Remus's heart swelled at Harry’s words. “I really value your trust, Harry,” he said earnestly. “I’ll do everything I can not to break it. You deserve that, and I want you to know you can always count on me.”
A smile spread across Harry’s face, easing the tension that had built up between them. “Thanks, Dad,” he replied, feeling a warmth in his chest.
“Now,” Remus said, shifting the conversation to a lighter note, “do you want to get back to breakfast?”
“Definitely!” Harry exclaimed, his mood brightening further. “I’m starving.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Remus said with a grin, leading the way back to the kitchen. The delicious scent of breakfast lingered in the air, and as they sat down together, the worries of the world outside faded, if only for a moment.