Chapter 38: The Impossible Thought
Sirius stared at that name he had revealed with his spell, trying to force his brain to understand what it meant. Harry Granger wasn't really a Granger, but they knew that already. Harry was adopted, so he was Harry Potter by birth then.
Harry J. Potter. J for James.
Harry James Potter. James for his father.
Harry James – for his father – Potter, who looked eerily like James Potter.
"Prongs," Sirius breathed, too preoccupied by his own thoughts to speak with any real volume. "Please tell me you've a long-lost Uncle James."
The Chaser laughed lightly, "Sorry, Pads, I'm the only James in my family."
"Bugger."
"Why?" James finally looked away from Peter's magazines to see just how ashen his friend was. "What's the matter?"
Sirius could only shake his head and point, unable to voice what it was about the name that so concerned him. Somewhere in his head, the pieces were being rearranged according to the information the plaque had provided. It was an irritatingly incomplete picture, even with this new clue.
"Well, that is odd," James said, sitting himself down to read the plaque on Harry's trunk, wondering what it might mean.
"He looks just like you, Prongs," Sirius said, his voice hushed to a terrified whisper.
"It's a prank," replied James loudly and laughingly. "He's pulling our leg! Harry, come on out!" He stood and started poking his wand into every corner and nook that might contain the boy.
"He's in the library," Sirius replied, his eyes still fixed on the name.
"No, it's a prank," the boy insisted stubbornly. "He's had more than enough time to finish with Morven, steal my cloak and change that name. He's hiding and he's going to pop out any second now."
"Prongs," Sirius said, his voice hard. "Do you honestly think I don't know exactly where the bloke I have a secret crush on is at all times during the day? He's in the library. Trust me."
James fell back onto his arse and stared intently at the name before his eyes. Harry J. Potter. "Potter's not all that unusual a name."
"That isn't the problem, Prongs. It's enough to know he's been lying to us this whole time," he said, though there was more to his growing unease than just the lying; they all knew he had been lying to them, hiding things and keeping some very dark secrets. Sirius shot to his feet as the thoughts started flowing without filter through his mouth, "He said he had been a Granger for as long as he could remember. If that were true, he wouldn't have a trunk with his real name on it, now would he? If his name was just the simple, common sort, why would he have bothered to hide it unless it was part of a bigger secret?"
"What bigger secret?" James demanded.
"I think he really is your long-lost brother. I mean he looks just like you!"
"Middle name for his real father, remember?" he scoffed. "He'd be Harry Charlus Potter." The boy's condescending smile fell away as he looked again at the plaque. "I got my middle name from my dad, same as him."
"Prongs?"
"Nobody in my family has green eyes," he muttered, speaking more to himself than to his friend. "Nobody but Lily has eyes that green. And he turned poorly whenever we said he fancied her, properly poorly." His hazel eyes still staring fixedly on the name, he extended his hand. "Give me that list of yours."
Frowning, Sirius dug into his bag and pulled out the parchment, rumpled and torn from being scoured so often, and set it in James's outstretched hand. The boy studied it for several long minutes, his brow pulled together tightly and his eyes narrowed. A look crossed his face, one Sirius had not anticipated, a broad smile verging on rapture. "Impossible!"
"What?"
"It isn't possible," James declared, jumping to his feet and running from the room. Sirius chased after him, confusion and annoyance warring for dominance as he entered the common room and found his friend moving purposefully toward Lily Evans.
Cursing, Sirius turned away, stomping angrily back up the steps and parking himself before Harry's trunk. He studied the list as James had, same look of absolute determination on his face, but whatever the impossibility had been it did not occur to him as readily as it did the other black-haired Gryffindor. So he stayed on the floor, sorting the list and trying for the thousandth time to fit it together in a way that made sense. James had effectively put to rest the idea of Harry being his long-lost brother, but he clearly had another idea, one involving Evans and her eyes and Harry's reaction to her.
The door opened, but Sirius did not look up from his task even when James asked, "What are you doing?"
"Being aggravated, that's what I'm doing," he snarled. "You run off shouting about things being 'impossible' and don't tell me what they are when you know I'm at my wit's fucking end over this. So much for me being clever if I can't sort of what in the hell Harry's secret is."
There was a long pause before he replied. "Ever think he's got more than one? Might make it easier if you tried figuring only one out at a time."
"Real helpful," he scoffed and looked at his list again. "Now what was so impossible?"
"Don't know."
"You are an absolute git, Prongs," Sirius growled and glared at his friend.
"I know he is, so what does that make me?" the boy replied with something of a smile, his green eyes bright with amusement as they always were when Sirius mistook him for James.
"Oh hell."
Harry sat down beside him on the floor, and looked at the parchment in his hands, quickly reading the ever-growing list of oddities he and Remus had compiled. He 'hm'ed and snorted occasionally, but said nothing until he had reached the end. "So not been as careful as we'd hoped, then."
"You're not denying it?" Sirius asked, dumbfounded.
"I'm denying this one," he pointed to the very last item on the list. "I'm not secretly snogging Hermione. Never have been, never will be. She's like my sister, Sirius. That is just gross."
"Okay," he accepted the boy's answer and crossed it from his list. "Anything else?"
The boy's eyes darted over the list again. "No…" he said slowly. "The rest of it is annoyingly spot-on."
Sirius could not keep the smile off his face. "Well, since I have you here and in such a truthful mood, mind helping me with this? It's been driving me mad since September."
Harry considered him a moment before giving a slow nod. "I'll see what I can do."
"Dementors," Sirius said before he could change his mind. "Have you met one in person?"
"Several," the boy replied darkly, his smile dropping off his face.
Recognising the signs of despondency in his friend, Sirius quickly changed subjects, eager to keep his mood light and to keep him talking. "Have you ever taken History of Magic?"
Harry nodded.
"With Professor Binns?" he added, eyebrow rising with his curiosity. Harry said nothing in reply and offered no gesture other than a sly smile which pulled slowly across his face. Sirius tried very hard not to scowl. Having the boy there offering vague replies and enigmatic smiles was worse than having only the list and his confused thoughts. At least when he was alone he could pair the clues in whatever fashion he chose without worrying about Harry laughing at him.
"Tell me how you got your scar."
"Which one? I have several."
"I've noticed," Sirius commented. "Start with the manly and impressive burn."
"Dragon," Harry said proudly. "Hungarian Horntail, real piece of work that one was."
"Pull the other one," he laughed, certain the boy was having him on, but Harry's posture and smile did not falter with his disbelief. "You're serious? A dragon? What the hell were you doing near a dragon?"
He shook his head. "Can't tell you that."
"What?" Sirius balked and slapped him on the head. "You're meant to be helping me with this, not making more questions!"
"I never said I was going to make the list shorter," Harry said. "I just said I'd help. It's your list. You figure it out."
Sirius glared at him. "Git. What about the other scars, then?"
"Horrid teacher," Harry said pointing at his hand where the writing etched deep into his skin was still hidden by magic. "Coward," he pointed to his arm. "Very bad man," he pulled up his fringe and revealed the lightning bolt on his forehead. "I also have one on my ankle from my Aunt's dog and another on my elbow from when my cousin and his friend threw me into a construction skip… in case you cared."
"What's your cousin's name and address? I'll go hex him for you."
Harry grinned. "I appreciate the offer, but that wouldn't do any good at this point in time."
"Well, can't say I didn't offer to avenge you," he sighed and studied his strange friend. "Are you really from South Africa?"
Harry shook his head. "Never been there in my life."
"Is your middle name really James?" Harry nodded. "James from your father?" Again he nodded. Remembering the odd comment James had made before he ran off, Sirius looked at his friend's vibrant eyes. "Where'd you get the green eyes from? You said your mum, was that true?"
Again Harry nodded and Sirius paused, looking down at the list. Whatever it was that James had realised, he had done it with without Operation Not-Prongs. Perhaps it was not where he ought to be looking. He glanced again at the boy beside him, vibrant green eyes from his mum, middle name from his dad, wild black hair just like James's… "Whose hair did you get?"
"My dad's," he replied, adding, "Got most of me from him, actually. All anyone ever says I got from my mum are her eyes. Although, I've apparently got her temper as well."
Sirius thought it through again. Green eyes from his mum. Hair and name from his dad. A fairly common surname that he felt the need to hide. "How long have you known your real last name?"
"All my life," Harry said.
"Why lie and say you never knew it?"
He just offered a half-hearted shrug, "Dumbledore's idea."
"You really don't like him," Sirius observed.
The boy's face grew dark again. "He helped get someone I love killed. All his secret-keeping."
Sirius scoffed. "You're one to complain."
"Oi, I'm doing the best I can," Harry elbowed him sharply in the side. "I'd like to see you do better in my position."
"Perhaps I could if I knew what position that was," he retorted.
Harry offered up a grin. "That is your job to find out, Mr Black."
"You, Mr Potter—" He stopped as the name fell from his mouth. It was the first time he had said it aloud since reading it on the plaque, the first time he had connected it to Harry. He had repeated it countless times in his head, certainly, but saying it to the boy's face somehow changed the way he thought of the name, how he thought of the boy. Harry James Potter, with a common surname he thought it necessary to hide and the middle name of a boy he looked almost identical to. "Oh, hell."
Harry raised an eyebrow as he waited.
"You are related to James," Sirius said, unease colouring his voice and sickness twisting his gut. "You're not his brother. And he doesn't have any uncles you could be named after. He's the only James in his whole family…"
"Which tells you what?"
"That I'm fucked."
oOo
James moved purposely across the common room, trying and failing to keep from walking with his usual, assured stride. He had made a real effort to quell the motion, knowing his tendency to strut about the place annoyed Lily, but right now he was so confident he could not prevent the swagger.
He had a thought, a brilliant and impossible thought. It was the kind of thought he had dreamed of but could never believe would ever come true, but he had the evidence now… maybe.
He pushed through a pride of first years to reach a far corner where his red-haired target sat with Tildy, hunched low over a small table, whispering and discussing something that looked nothing like any assignment they had been given recently. At his approach, Lily slid the parchment off the table and Tildy grinned toothily.
"James!" Tildy cried. "How's your dad?"
"Much better," he said honestly. "Mum wrote that he'll be coming home soon."
"Fantastic!" the girl cried with far too much volume. She was clearly trying to distract him while Lily hastily folded the parchment and hid it in her bag. "So are you here to flirt with Lily? Would you like me to go?"
The girl in question blushed and glared at her exuberant companion, but James smiled. "No, actually, I was curious about the Grangers."
At the name, their smiles became fixed, rehearsed.
When Harry let him take Lily on a date in his stead, he had started to wonder about all the times he caught them together in the common room; all those instances when he had looked upon the pair with suspicion and jealousy suddenly made no sense. If the boy was willing to give up a proper date, then clearly he was not involved in a clandestine romance with the girl. They did, however, spend a great deal of time with their heads together, whispering, conspiring. There had to be some reason for it, but none came to him until now.
Now that he had the impossible thought in his head, he knew that it was because Lily was privy Harry's secret; Tildy, too, apparently.
He had intended to woo the information from Lily somehow, to take advantage of her growing fondness and find out what he wanted about the Grangers. It would not have been easy and it might even have endangered their budding relationship, but with Tildy's fixed smile, he had a much better plan, one that would get him the information he wanted and let him keep the girl of his dreams. The excitable girl would be much easier to gain information from; she was already bouncing in her seat from the effort of maintaining her silence. Tildy wanted to share, desperately.
"Do you know when their birthdays are?" he asked innocently, watching as their tension and nervousness melted. "Sirius is starting to get desperate and thought a massive party might be the way to shout 'I want to shag you' to Harry."
Lily frowned disapprovingly, a tinge of green touching her face. "I don't know, but I can ask."
"Thanks," he smiled again, unable to stop himself. "Out of curiosity, if I wanted to shout 'I want to snog you' what would be the best way to do it?"
Lily flushed a deep scarlet to match her tie. "A Hogsmeade weekend where you come as yourself might do the trick," she replied.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said and left them alone to recommence their whispering. He grinned as he set himself down near the fire to do some conspiring of his own. It had been far too long since he set his mind to plotting, so intent had he been on worrying about his dad, winning Evans and foiling Harry. Now, though, he had a new aim: Tildy Moorehead. Eager as she was to share whatever information she knew, the girl was a Gryffindor, proud, loyal and stubborn, and if she had promised to keep the secret then keep it she would; he would have to find the right way to approach her if he was to make her tell him everything she knew.
There was always stealing that parchment the two girls were debating; he suspected it would be a list of spells just like the one Harry kept in his pocket. He and Sirius had already gotten their hands on Harry's copy and found it to be completely useless to determining the great secret.
'Shame asking doesn't work,' he thought.
James paused, his mouth pulling downward into a thoughtful frown. Of all the things he had considered, that, surprisingly, had never occurred to him. Just ask.
"Why not?" he shrugged and stood, walking back to stand by the girls.
"Out of curiosity," James said again, "is Harry my kid?" He held Lily's eye as he spoke, watching those vibrant green eyes as they widened and grew more prominent against her paling skin. He had never seen anyone else with eyes as vibrant as hers, not until he met Harry. The boy had said she reminded him of his mum, and everyone thought him a relative of James. With his true last name revealed and knowing he shared the Potter's tradition of carrying on the father's name as a middle one, James had known the truth. It was impossible, but it was there. Harry was his son. His and Lily's. Seeing her enormous eyes, it was clear she knew it, too.
"Congratulations!" Tildy squealed. "It's a boy!"