Chapter 10
It took four cups of tea, three hours and two breaks to play with Teddy for the news that Harry was Sirius’s nephew by blood to sink in properly; for him to accept that the legend of Harry Potter was a lie.
“So Snape and Regulus plotted it together?” He asked.
“We assume they must have,” Andromeda confirmed.
“It explains some of the gaps in Snape’s memories,” Harry mused. “Especially the Unbreakable Vow. It explains why the Lestrange vault let me out. And we know Regulus was working against Tom towards the end, don’t we?” He jiggled Teddy, who was beginning to grizzle. “And Sirius was my uncle, as well as my godfather, which - which…” He trailed off, frowning. “But who was my mother, then? If I am your nephew, and Teddy's uncle…”
Andromeda let the pieces fall quietly into place.
“No,” Harry said stubbornly. “No, not - not -”
“Bellatrix bore a child during her engagement to Rodolphus. I saw the signs at the time, but I never put them together,” Andromeda said calmly. “Not until later. Not until Remus and Sirius began to piece it together.”
“The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo…”
“Regulus - they were -”
“Cousins,” Andromeda agreed tiredly. “Welcome to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, where everyone marries a cousin of one degree or another. I doubt it was a love match, anyway; more likely frustration or fun. Bellatrix never cared much for her husband after they were married, either; it was Tom Riddle she wanted, everyone knew that.”
Harry privately agreed. “Did she know?”
“That Harry Potter is an illusion, and the boy she hunted fanatically at her master’s bidding was her son? No, I doubt it very much. She will have given her baby to Regulus on his promise that he would bring him up a good Death Eater, because it suited her to have you out of the way. The Lestranges are fair-haired and have strong genes; your colouring would have raised questions she would not have liked to answer. I may not have liked my sister, Harry, but I knew her intimately once… when she had a modicum of sanity. I loved her once.”
Harry tried to force away his revulsion. “She tortured Neville’s parents into insanity,” he choked.
“She did many unspeakable things,” Andromeda said quietly. “And I grieve her as she was - the older sister who played with me when I was just a girl. Before she went to Hogwarts; before the world became dark and complex. I do not grieve who she became, Harry. But Bellatrix Black bore the saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived - she brought about her master’s destruction. Not knowingly… but she did.”
Harry tried to wrap his head around this newer and more shocking piece of information, and decided it was too raw and too huge. He’d come back to it another time. Instead, he focused on who he had been when he had arrived earlier.
“Why do I look like James Potter?”
“At a guess… I would suggest a sort of glamour charm which is tied to our blood. Something that can only be broken by someone who knows - and given that I believe only Regulus, Severus and the real Potters knew at the time, and Regulus died for you, I assume it was meant to be permanent.”
“Can… can you remove it?”
“Do you want me to?”
Harry considered this for a moment. “I… don’t know,” he said. “How different will I look?”
“I can’t be sure. But considering the length of time the charm has held, and the prevailing genetics in our bloodline” - she rolled her eyes - “I would suggest that your colouring will be unchanged, at least.”
“It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are.”
Harry bit his lip. “I’m still me. My name has changed, and I’m going to look different, but I’m still - I’ve still done what I have done. Those choices are who I am.”
Andromeda nodded. “And they always will be,” she agreed. “There is enough proof, Harry. You aren’t going to walk out of this room and have vanished from existence. You can remain Harry Potter forever, or you can reclaim your name - either way, you haven’t changed.”
Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “Remove it,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “If it’s too different, I can put it back up until I decide what to do. Remove it.”
Andromeda reached for her wand, and Harry closed his eyes instinctively. He didn’t reopen them until he heard her soft gasp, and looked up to see her eyes swimming with tears. “You’re definitely a Black,” she said, chuckling. She Summoned a mirror.
Harry looked into it with trepidation, unsure what he was going to see. Staring back were his eyes - less of an almond shape, now, but almost the same shade of green nonetheless. His cheekbones were higher, giving him the haughtier look he had associated with Sirius and Regulus, Narcissa and Draco, Bellatrix, and even - the first time he had met her - Andromeda. His hair was smoother, less determined to stick up and out, and had the slightest curl to it. His jaw, which had never been strong or square, was nonetheless narrower, his nose longer.
He looked less like James Potter and more like Andromeda and Sirius, he supposed. But he thought he was still recognisable as Harry Potter, for now, and had enough other traits to be accepted as a Black when the time came. He smiled at his reflection and handed the mirror back to Andromeda.
“It’s nice to have elements of people, rather than look just like someone with someone else’s eyes,” he admitted. “Hearing that constantly was a little…”
“Yes, I can imagine it was both a source of immense pride and boundless irritation,” Andromeda supplied with a trace of mischief that Harry hoped he would see more of as he got to know his - well, his aunt.
“Exactly,” he agreed, and his smile felt wider than any smile he’d managed to produce. “Exactly.”