Dead Men Tell Tales
Harry knew wizards and witches were culturally weird people. Despite the fact that he hadn't spent much time with them, it wasn't hard to tell their cultures were stuck in the past. Natasha and he only occasionally entered the magical sectioned off places when they stumbled open them. Always stopping by the bookstore or library if there was one, but they didn't linger, and it was the only time they ever wore disguises.
Mom prided her ability to go where she wanted when she wanted with a single passport, seeing as in this world no one was out to get her or knew anything about the illegal actions in her past.
No, it was only in the magical worlds they had to be careful, and so far, the Hogwarts staff wasn't exactly making him regret his decision not to attend when he was younger.
They walked in awkward silence to the Headmaster's office, well awkward for them, Harry was taking stalk of the castle's layout and all of the magical paintings and ghosts.
Mom might have a harder time sneaking in than they originally thought.
The gargoyles moved when Mr. Dumbledore said a nonsense word that sounded like the name of some candy.
Up and up they climbed the steps and Harry was blown away, not by the room with all its trinkets, but the firebird, the phoenix.
Spotting him, the phoenix let out happy, beautiful trill, and flew to him, passing its master and settling on his shoulder.
The Headmaster looked startled but not displeased, "That is a phoenix, his name is Fawkes."
"He's beautiful," Harry said, rubbing a knuckle under his beak.
Fawkes, let out a warbling purr, and rubbed back like a cat.
"Have a seat, Mr. Potter,"
"My name is Romanoff," Harry said again, as they all sat down. Fawkes hopped into Harry's lap and sunk into Harry petting his feathers. Apparently magical birds liked him.
The headmaster and professors did a hot-potato exchange of glances. Of the professors here there was the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape, Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout, and Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick. The fourth, Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, said she would be joining them shortly.
Harry didn't trust them as far as the old man could throw them.
The Headmaster cleared his throat, "You did very well today."
"Thank you," Harry said, keeping his expression neutral, he didn't care about this man's approval, and he didn't like how charming he was trying to be. They were hiding something from him, something big.
"Had you ever met a dragon before?"
"No."
"Do you have a wand?" Professor Flitwick asked.
Harry shook his head, "No, they don't work well for me." Maybe if they had gone into a shop for wands and not just picked from the slim selections of his assassins, but they had deduced that wands were registered and that underaged wizards had tracking spells put on those registered wands. That tidbit had been in an outed book they had read in America, but it was enough that they decided he would be better off going without.
The small but kind professor smiled at him, "Wands can be tricky, have you tried Mr. Ollivander's shop?"
Harry shook his head.
"Have you ever been to Diagon Alley?" Professor Snape asked.
He nodded, "For the first time this month, we walked here from London."
The man's onyx eyes went a bit wide, "Walked?"
"Along the tracks, we would have gotten here sooner but we stopped to sight see and visit a few of the towns. Scotland has some incredible places."
They all stared at him, looking mistified.
Hadn't these people ever heard of backpacking?
"Who is 'we'?" The Headmaster asked.
"My mother and I."
"Is she a witch?"
Harry nodded again, "Yes, she is, not that it's really any of your business."
"So she trained you? And despite never seeing a dragon before, you knew enough to handle one? You know enough about the Wizarding World not to be surprised by any of the magic around you, yet you've only recently been to magical London." the last was more of a statement.
Harry was done with this line of questioning. They weren't asking about his life and his mother for his education. This wasn't an enrollment discussion, they were trying to figure out where he'd been for the last thirteen years and if his mother was a criminal. He could see it on their faces.
So Harry took control of the discussion, "What I want to know is why was I entered into a competition like this without my consent?"
Silence greeted him.
"We don't know," the Headmaster said finally.
Harry leaned back in his seat, "So was this a ploy to find me, or another assassination attempt? Because whoever this 'Dark Lord' is trying to kill me, he's going to have to do better than a dragon."
Harry watched the professors involuntary jerks, the widening of their eyes, and the thoughts flying over their expressions. Harry kept his own expression relaxed, careful not to let his body language give him away.
But he realized he was finally going to get some answers. He knew the Dark Lord wanted to kill him, he knew that his followers thought that their 'Lost Lord' might return if they killed him, but what he didn't know was why.
And Harry could tell that at least two people in this room knew exactly why, it was written on the brief glimpse of guilt on Professor Snape's face and the sharpening of focus in Mr. Dumbledore's anything but innocent baby-blues.
Minerva landed on her feet in James Potter's office in the Ministry.
He looked up, surprised as she brushed the ash off.
"Professor?" he asked.
"Where's Lily?" Minerva asked.
James stood, and walked to the wall, he pounded a fist to it and yelled, "Lils!"
A loud bang sounded on the other side of the wall like she had thrown something heavy at her side of the wall, maybe a book. Lily always seemed to have large tomes at hand.
A moment later she stormed into the room, "How many times do I have to tell you? I have my own office door, you d- Minerva?"
"We found him," Minerva said.
"What!?" James and Lily exclaimed.
Sirius popped his head in then, "Yo, what's all the noise about, and why wasn't I invited? Oh, hi, McGonagall."
Minerva ignored him, "Harry appeared for the First Task. Your son is at Hogwarts now."
They all gaped at her.
Minerva reached over the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder, throwing it into the fire and saying, "McGonagall's Office."
James, Lily, and Sirius were hot on her heels.
Harry officially disliked both the Headmaster and Snape. Instead of answering any of his questions, 'that were adult problems,' they kept asking about his mother.
Having enough, he stood, Fawkes flying back to his own perch in the room, "Why can't you answer any of my questions?"
"Mr. Potter-"
"My name is Harry Romanoff," he said through gritted teeth. Why couldn't they get that through their heads? "Plenty of adoptive kids had their last names changed. I thought the British prided themselves on polite talk, you are being uncommonly rude."
Hot potato.
"Stop that," he demanded, "What is wrong with you people?"
"Your parents," Professor Flitwick said softly, "aren't dead."
Harry looked down at the man, about to tell him just how much 'rubbish' that was when the office door opened. He turned expecting to see Professor McGonagall, but in front of her were two strangers and one behind her.
A woman, whose face and hair tugged at an old nightmare, and a man, who looked like an older version of his own reflection.
Your parents aren't dead.
Harry's entire world spun on its axis, and he felt as lost as they looked.
This was impossible.
They were dead.
Mom would-
Mom.
Harry's heart broke. How was he supposed to explain this to her? She would never willingly have kept him away from his birth parents. And if she found out that they had been alive this whole time… God. She would never forgive herself.
Shaking himself, determined not to make this a bigger mess than it already was, Harry stuck out his hand, "Hi, I'm Harry Romanoff, it's nice to meet you." He made sure to let the mix of Russian and American accents dominate his English. He could mimic every person in this room, but he wanted it clear that he wasn't one of them.
James's heart plummeted.
Harry Romanoff, not Harry Potter. Though this was unmistakably his son, Lily's eyes stared out at him from his own younger reflection.
Was he Russian? They had gone to search for him in Russia more than once, as well as America. Though an American accent could mean he just watched American Media, like the movies Lily brought him and Sirius to, perhaps it's how he learned English.
The thought that English might not have been his son's first language bothered him, a lot.
He recovered before Lily did, extending his right hand, he clasped hands with his son, "James Potter," he said, then couldn't help but add, "Your dad."
Harry's handshake was strong and he let go too soon, and repeated pleasantly, "It's nice to meet you."
Lily, unsurprisingly, didn't settle for a handshake, she rushed him, wrapping Harry in a hug.
Harry stiffened, and James held his breath, not knowing what Lily would do, if she could even handle being pushed away and rejected by him.
But Harry, wrapped his arms around her, perhaps without quite as much enthusiasm, but not without feeling.
James heard him say to her ever so softly, "I'm so sorry."
After a minute though, Harry pulled back, and James put a hand to Lily's shoulder. Thankfully, she didn't fight him, retreating back to his side giving their long lost son breathing space.
James said, "And this is your mother, Lily Potter."
Harry's smile looked forced, and not as coolly as he had greeted James, he said in a tight voice, "Hi."
The moment was awkward, but James let himself just absorb the fact that his son was alive, alive and healthy.
Lily broke that silence, "You have to know, Harry, we never stopped looking for you. We never gave up on you, not ever."
Harry opened his mouth then closed it, then seemed to make a decision and asked so bluntly to put Sirius to shame, "Right, but why aren't you dead?"
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall chided.
Harry glared at her then at him and Lily, "I saw you die. The only memory I have of you, dim as it is, is you begging for my life, that madman's laughter, presumably," he made air quotes, "'the Dark Lord,' followed by a green light and then you dropped. I even, very, very dimly," he pointed a James, "remember before that, you telling her," pointing at Lily, "To take me and run. You both died. And no one gets up from an A.K."
"A.K.?" Sirius asked, finally speaking up.
"Avada Kedavra," Harry said brazenly, and everyone in the room flinched.
Lily answered softly, "And you were hit with it too, but you came back."
Harry looked at her, then said slowly, "the green light at the end…" he shook his head. "So Death brought us all back… Why?"
"Death isn't a person," McGonagall said.
Harry met her gaze and said with complete seriousness, "Just because you haven't met someone doesn't mean they don't exist."
In any other circumstance, James would have laughed at the expression on his old Head of House's face. She looked like she had bitten into a lemon.
"But you were dead, right?" Harry asked them, "When Mom saved me, you were still dead." He said it more like a statement, as if it were fact that he had been told.
"I'm your mother," Lily said, the jealousy in her voice thinly veiled.
"No," Harry said firmly, "You're my birth mother. My Mom, Natasha Romanoff, raised me. I'm her son."
James shut his eyes and took in deep breaths, his hand tightening on Lily's shoulder, her hand covered his. They had lost their son, missed out on his entire life. This person, their little boy, had grown up without them. He was a stranger to them. Lily leaned back against him, as if her legs couldn't quite hold her up.
There were no words for this pain.
Sirius, good old Sirius, stepped up, "Yes, Lily and James died that night, and they came back that same night. We looked for you. We all did. Whoever this Natasha is, she kidnapped you."
Harry's expression darkened, and he seemed to close down, he took a step back and to the side so that the Headmaster was no longer behind him. "And who the hell are you?"
And James blamed Lily's penchant for action movies, because with the Russian accent, James felt a flash of fear of Harry at that moment. He sounded, well not evil, but like the proverbial bad guy, even if he was just a kid.
"I, Mr. Harry Potter, am your godfather, or maybe," Sirius who had no sense of self-preservation, grinned cheekily, "dogfather, Sirius Black, and if your parents had stayed dead, you should have come to live with me, as opposed to being kidnapped and brainwashed by some Russian chick."
Harry's response was succinct, "Fuck you."
Clearly, the boy's patience for this screwed up circumstance had a limit.
Unsurprisingly, Sirius seemed to be the end of that limit.
Still, McGonagall and Lily both chided, "Language."
Harry glared at them all, "Listen, I didn't come here to find a family I didn't know existed. I came here to compete in the stupid tournament, that no one seems willing to tell me anything about, and possibly attend school here for a year, maybe two." And he looked as if he was having real doubts about the latter.
James felt like things were moving too fast, he couldn't lose him again. He couldn't survive it. But before he could decide on the perfect words, on the one thing to say that would get him to say, Lily asked a question that was more level headed.
"Did you compete?"
He nodded, "I did. And before we talk about the stupidity of throwing students in a pen with dragons for sport. Can someone explain to me why the Dark Lord wants me dead? And who is he? None of my assassins ever gave him a name."
"Assassins," Lily murmured in horror.
"Voldemort," Sirius answered, "And his followers want you dead because you're the Boy Who Lived, the night he hit you with the killing curse, was the night Voldemort was destroyed."
"Is Voldemort dead?"
Several voices answered yes and several answered no.
"Glad we cleared that up," Harry said dryly.
"How many assassins were there?" Lily asked.
Harry shrugged, "Maybe a dozen or so. My mom would know exactly, I don't remember them all."
Lily didn't correct him this time, though James knew she wanted to.
"If you had stayed with us, you would have been safe," Sirius said.
Harry crossed his arms, and asked with enough sarcasm to make James's teeth hurt, "Really?"
Sirius puffed out his chest, "Of course, we're the good guys."
James spoke before Sirius could say something else insufferable, "Harry, where have you been all these years? All the spells we used… they led us all over the world."
"Well, that would be because I was all over the world. I mean aside from no long stretches of time spent in the UK, we've been nearly everywhere. I was homeschooled, so we just kept moving."
"And you never thought that people who loved you might be looking for you?" Sirius asked.
"No," Harry said firmly, "Because the 'good guys' would have gone to the police. We haven't been hiding. We used the same names, the same passports for the last thirteen years. If you were able to track even a portion of all the places we've been and gone to any, what is that word you people use? 'Muggle' police force in almost any nation, the name 'Harry' would have come up in correlation with the places I've been. Typically, it is only bad guys who don't go to the police."
James felt gut punched. They were Aurors, they were the police, and they could have gone to the muggles. And they did originally, but after a year… well, the description of a baby named Harry didn't have any leads. It never occurred to them to ask the muggles once enough years had passed, without a description, without proof that Harry was somehow alive, muggle law would have pronounced him dead.
They never thought that all the tracking spells they used had worked, that a list of countries with approximated dates over the years would have been enough evidence for the muggles to find their son.
"So our spells did work," Snape said, "A few years back, you were in Ireland, then Norway, then Japan?"
Harry nodded, and gave Snape an unfriendly look, "Yes, and that confirms our suspicion that we were being followed. What type of spell did you use? It is pretty rare people get that close."
The way he said people James was pretty sure he had Snape's past figured out.
"How did we never see you?" Lily asked, "You look just like James?"
Harry uncrossed his arms, and threaded a hand through his hair that looked as wild as James's. Poor kid.
"My mom used to be on a task force, a military unit of sorts. The real question is how we never saw you?"
The answer was because they had always gone undercover, they had assumed a Death Eater had Harry, because why else would they be running?
The extent of the misunderstanding that had happened, the pain that it had brought them all…
"We were wearing disguises to hide from your kidnapper," Sirius said, "But you're home now, you're safe now."
Harry actually snorted, which was the least controlled reaction they had gotten out of him, "This isn't my home, and the dragon sort of dispelled any notion of safety, if you know, a school full of underaged magic users was ever really safe."
"Hogwarts is the safest place on the planet," Sirius retorted.
Harry smiled, though the expression was not kind, and he said something in Russian that sounded oddly beautiful, completely fluent, and not in any way flattering.
Out of anyone in the room, it was only and oddly, Phineas Nigellus Black who reacted to Harry's words, the portrait laughed.
Apparently, Lily and James were going to need to learn Russian. Even Dumbledore looked blank.
"Right," James said, "Sirius is a moron, but he's right, you are safe now. We can keep you safe. We promise."
Harry looked at him with eyes that were older than they should have been, "I doubt it. The people who want me dead will stop at nothing. This one guy snuck into our train compartment as a rat. A freaking rat."
They all went still, and James asked in a voice that wasn't his own, "What happened to him?"
"I stumped it out. I hate rats. Nasty vermin that carry diseases around, poop everywhere, and eat everything. They will eat people if they can get away with it, they have ticks, and just, -they are gross. The stupid thing tried crawling up my leg. So I kicked it and crushed it repeatedly beneath my boot. It wasn't until it was dead that it turned out to be a wizard. You should have seen my mom's expression. She isn't afraid of anything, but for months afterward, she was suspicious of every animal, small or large."
They gaped at him.
Wormtail was dead.
Their son had killed Peter Pettigrew. It was a fitting end but…
"You killed him?" Dumbledore asked, accusation in his voice. Dumbledore, ever the man of second chances, looked appalled.
"Yeah," Harry said, "I did. It was a hassle rolling that fat creep off the train. And no, I don't feel bad about it, it was self-defence. We checked his arms." He tapped his left forearm, "he was another Death Eater, another freaking assassin. I'm not going to apologize for killing him, nor would I apologize for killing a rat. The only thing rats are good for is snake food."
"Very Slytherin of you," Snape said, a little smugly.
But Harry seemed to know the relation between Death Eaters and that house because he said, "Death Eaters are Slytherins." And he gave Snape a look that said he had guessed, correctly, what Snape had once been.
Snape, however, smirked and the bastard said, "Peter Pettigrew, the rat you put out of its misery, was a Gryffindor, like your parents."
Harry's eyes narrowed at the bite in his voice, and he looked at James and Lily for confirmation, reluctantly they both nodded. Harry frowned, "You knew him personally."
They nodded again and Lily spat, "Peter betrayed us."
His green eyes went wide, "You were friends with him?"
"I didn't say that," she said.
"But it's the truth," he challenged. "You have poor taste in friends." His gaze slipped ever so briefly to Sirius.
This, James decided, wasn't going well.
"Harry, your mother and I have made mistakes, but we're your parents, we love you. We want you back in our lives, whatever that means."
A tension seemed to go out of Harry, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping.
What James wanted to hear was something along the lines of, 'I've wanted to meet you my entire life. I don't know you yet but I love you too.'
What they got was a look of pity.
Whoever this Natasha Romanoff was, either she had truly brainwashed him, or she had given him such a good life that he wanted for nothing, not materially or emotionally.
That someone had filled the void where James and Lily were supposed to be was agony, but James could admit, however reluctantly, that he would be grateful that his son had led a happy, loved filled life.
He was safe, alive and well, and if James kept telling himself that maybe it could ease the fears he had lived with over the last decade and more.
Harry said, "I would like to get to know you better, but you have to understand, I have a home, a family."
Lily reached out a hand, stepping forward, and James caught her around the waist, sensing that if she crowded Harry he might step back, might bolt. "We're your family."
"You are my biological family. And you might be good people, but biology doesn't dictate that I would have been better off with you."
Even Sirius didn't argue this time.
James tried again, "Please, Harry, all that we ask is that you give us a chance." And don't run away from us. Don't disappear.
Harry looked suddenly exhausted, and James remembered that the boy had faced a dragon today, Lily seemed to be on the same wavelength because she asked, "Are you okay? Were you hurt at all today?"
"No, I'm fine, it wasn't that hard really."
James blinked, in whose definition was dragon not hard?
"You could have been really hurt," Lily said, glaring at Dumbledore.
Harry shrugged, "Only if I messed up, which I didn't."
James had the distinct feeling that he had a lot to learn about his son.
"Perhaps," Flitwick ventured, "We should give it a rest for this evening. Dinner will start soon, and I'm sure," he gave James and Lily an apologetic look, "Mr. Romanoff needs to refuel and get a good night of sleep."
James swallowed the panic that even the thought of parting with Harry caused, but it was only sense. If they pushed much further tonight he might run again. That much was plain.
It had to be enough that he was safe and that they knew where he was.
Harry couldn't keep the relief off his face, he hadn't been prepared for this. He was completely blindsided by this series of events. And frankly, he had shared more than he wanted to. He didn't trust these people, and he wasn't comfortable with this interrogation.
He couldn't think what he wanted from his biological parents. He had never fantasized about them being alive. They were dead. It was him and Natasha against the world, that was the way it had always been. The idea that he had more family out there…
And suddenly he did have a question, "Do I have siblings?"
"No," James, his father said, and he looked defeated, as if he thought he didn't deserve more children.
Harry was done with this, these people were too emotional, wanted too much from him. He needed to get away from them, "My mom bought me the fourth year books. Can I attend classes here for the year? The letter said the tournament lasts the entire year."
Lily nodded, "Of course you can. Your tuition is already paid for."
Harry felt uneasy accepting anything from these people, "My mom can affor-"
"No," James cut him off, "we are your parents, whether you accept us or not, we can and have paid for your education."
Harry wanted away from them and could tell from the look on their faces that they wouldn't budge on this, "Thanks, so can I start classes with the others?"
"You will need a wand," Dumbledore said, "And we'll need to know what your magical education has been like before this, you said you're guardian was a witch, no?"
Harry stiffened, not liking the condescension in the Headmaster's voice. Harry twisted his hand, and all the little twirling trinkets on the old man's desk shattered, he opened his palm, the shiny shards stayed suspended like pieces of snowflakes caught in an upward draft, then he closed his fist, and all those objects remade themselves.
Everyone in the room gaped at him, apparently, that little parlour trick was impressive, wait until they saw what he could do with a shield charm. "I'm pretty good with wandless magic," he said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.
"You'll need to be sorted," Professor Sprout spoke up.
Professor McGonagall asked, "It involves putting on the Sorting Hat, would you rather be sorted here, or in front of the other students?"
"Here," he answered, not wanting to be any more of a spectacle. He would be happy to get some time to himself to digest all that had happened.
He had one week to figure out how to explain this to Mom.
McGonagall walked over to a shelf and pulled down a beat up hat. "Have a seat," she instructed.
"I can stand and wear a hat at the same time," Harry said dryly, letting his Russian accent thicken, making the words mocking even though his tone didn't change.
The muscles around her eyes tightened, and his parents' postures shifted.
No, they didn't like that he was a foreigner, not at all. He hadn't lied when he said he was more Russian than British, and though he had never lived long enough in any one country to claim kinship with, he was what his mother was, and Natasha Romanoff, at her core was Russian, and perhaps a bit Russian-American, which is how Harry saw himself.
The hat was lowered over his head, and it slipped over his eyes. He didn't jump when a voice exclaimed in his head, though it was a near thing.
Oh my! My dear, dear Romanoff, the worlds you've seen.
Harry didn't try to speak back though he worried what the hat might share to these people. He didn't want his private life known to them.
I want to say a word to them, my job is to sort, nothing more, the Headmaster won't get a word from me. I swear it, Mr. Romanoff.
Harry relaxed, and stood still, letting himself retreat into his own thoughts while no one was trying to question him.
About ten minutes passed before the hat growled, I can't decide, I can't decide! You are such an even mix of Slytherin and Gryffindor. I think, from your memories, I would place your mother in Slytherin, but you are somewhat like your biological parents too, and you would do well in Gryffindor. But you might truly shine in Slytherin. You can talk to snakes, you would get on well there. They aren't as bad as their reputation.
Harry shrugged, and thought at the hat, I'm fine with whatever. Do you think I will do well here?
My boy! You will do fantastic here. So much power… you might flounder a bit in the beginning, but I know you will surpass all expectations. The question is, do you want glory or acceptance more?
Neither, Harry thought, I came here to keep my magic and learn. I don't care what anyone else thinks of me. I would be happy if they didn't notice me at all.
The hat laughed aloud, Well then, I guess my first estimation was mistaken, it must be - "RAVENCLAW."
Professor McGonagall lifted that hat off, and she was smiling at him as was Professor Flitwick, who was, Harry realized, his head of house.
"You were a Hatstall," the Headmaster said, and Harry couldn't tell if he was pleased or not.
"It was undecided between Slytherin or Gryffindor, said I was a perfect split, then decided on Ravenclaw as the tiebreaker," he answered.
They looked surprised at that.
"Well," Professor Flitwick said, standing to his feet, he was shorter on his own two feet then in the chair, "I'll take you down to dinner."
Lily was beside herself, she wanted to cling to her son and never let him go. But the rational part of her brain told her that she would lose him again if she tried anything of the sort.
They had been so close to finding him, so many times, the magic had worked, but still, he had slipped past them.
Herself, James, and Sirius were three of the best Aurors in the country. It rankled that this Natasha Romanoff might be better. Though, if they killed the Death Eaters they met, not that Lily mourned that skum, then it meant that Natasha Romanoff maybe wasn't the most moral person.
Filius gave them sympathetic looks, but went for the exit, Harry followed without preamble.
Her heart got stuck in her throat, "Good night, Harry." I love you.
"Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he said, hardly pausing before following Flitwick out of the room.
She couldn't breathe.
James hugged her from behind and she didn't know what she would have done without her husband's arms, his support, knowing that he was feeling everything she felt.
"Well," Sirius said, "at least he's alive."
Lily jerked away from James and smacked the fleabag over the back of the head, James smacked him too.
"You idiot! You didn't use a lick of tack!" Lily exclaimed.
"You should have kept your mouth shut," James backed her up.
Lily turned on Severus, "And you were not much better," she pointed at Dumbledore next, "Or you. Did none of you think we deserved a private moment with our son?"
Minerva shook her head, "It probably would have been best if you hadn't met him today at all. He thought you were dead."
"And he didn't seem thrilled to see us alive," James said darkly.
"He must be exhausted," Pomona defended.
"How did his First Task go?" James asked, "He looked a little dusty, did he need to see Poppy at all?"
"No, he was completely unharmed. He was phenomenal," Minerva said, "He didn't use any magic, he just ran at it."
Lily's heart stopped, "Hey ran at a dragon?"
"Without a wand," Sev offered helpfully.
She was going to kill them all. "How could you let him compete!?"
"He jumped on the Horntail's head," Minerva continued, not answering her question.
"A Horntail?" James asked, his voice sounding breathy.
Minerva went on, "He held onto one of its head spikes, then slipped under her belly, snagged an egg, crawled out behind it, then scaled one of the stands. Not a scratch, not the tiniest bit singed. He was the quickest out of any of the champions and he did all without magic."
With magic, what was their son capable of?
James noted, "He was able to wield his magic without a wand or a spoken spell."
What else was Harry capable of? Aloud, she asked, "Does anyone know of or even heard of Natasha Romanoff?"
They all shook their heads, but Dumbledore said, "I'll contact the Russian school."
James took her hand, "Lils, we should go home."
She did not want to leave. She wanted to go down to the Great Hall and be with her son. She wanted to hold him, Merlin help her, she would be happy just to stare at him.
But she knew that wouldn't help matters, knew that they couldn't stay here. They had to prove themselves to Harry, and giving him space was a part of that.
Seeming to think that she was going to argue, James said, "We can regain custody, Lils, but we need to go home for tonight."
"No," she said, her throat so tight it hurt to speak, "he'll be an adult in less than three years. If we force anything on him, he'll run." If she had learned anything about Harry tonight, it was that.
James wrapped her in another hug, and she felt the weight of the world began to crash around her.
What in the world were they supposed to do next?
AN: Comments, reactions, thoughts, or wishes meant for shooting stars that are really shrapnel from space trash collisions? Please?