"Mr Potter, has it ever occurred to you that you are not who your mother says you are?"
Jamie gazed out the window of Gryffindor tower, unable to focus on his work. It had been three years since he came to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and every year he was topping half his classes, much to his aunt's pleasure. Hogwarts was everything his mum and uncles had told him it would be and more. From the first moment on the Hogwarts Express he had a firm friend in Benjamin Thomas, and things could never be boring with his cousins around.
One sentence, however, made him feel like a stranger to his world. Made him re-think everything he had ever known. He grew up living with his mum, Nan and Pop in The Burrow. He was one of the eldest grandchildren of Molly and Arthur Weasley. Every Sunday, the whole family would get together for Sunday Lunch at the Burrow. The kids would go off in the yard and play while the adults sat either outside watching them or inside talking.
Life was peaceful, thanks to his father. The evil Lord Voldemort had been destroyed just over thirteen years ago. People were getting on with life, letting the wounds the war had left heal. Jamie was one of those people. He didn't know much about the war, no one would tell him, but he knew that his father saved the world, dying in the process.
His father was a hero. That's what Jamie held onto. Although he never met his father, he had seen many photographs of him and loved listening to the stories that Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione would tell him of their Hogwarts adventures. Jamie wanted to be just like his father.
One sentence changed all of that though.
"…you are not who your mother says you are…"
He was James Harrison S. Potter. That's what it said on his birth certificate. That's what he had been called all his life. That's the name his mother gave him.
"…has it ever occurred to you…"
Nothing had ever felt strange or wrong to Jamie. Sometimes he would say something slightly snide or be surprised at the way he intimidated people, but he was the son of the most powerful wizard since Albus Dumbledore, surely it was normal that people would be intimidated by him. He was average height for his age and a little bit scrawny. He had his father's black hair but his mother's blue eyes, how could he not be who he was?
"Stupid sorting hat, must be getting to old for this job. It can't even tell who's who anymore."
"Did you say something Jamie?" The sound of Ben's voice snapped Jamie out of his thoughts.
"Nah, just thinking about things. Never mind me." Jamie stood up and walked away. He stopped in front of the fire and stared into it. For three years he had not thought much about what the sorting hat had said to him. In fact, he'd pretty much forgotten all about it.
"Ahh, Mr Potter. Yes…a fine young wizard you are. Hmm, such a thirst for knowledge, yet also a need to prove yourself. A wise mother and powerful father. Yes, great things can be expected of you, dear boy. My my, another son of the Old Families not entering the house of his for-fathers. Mr Potter, has it ever occurred to you that you are not who your mother says you are? Hmm, just something for you to think about. As for your house, I think you will do exceedingly well in GRYFFINDOR!"
It seemed so long ago that the sorting hat sat on his head telling him this. No, he hadn't thought about it much. After all, what would an old school hat know?
"…another son of the Old Families not entering the house of his for-fathers." Jamie drew back his hand and slammed his fist into the mantle. What the hell does that mean? He thought, furious that he didn't know. As far back as can be traced, every Potter and every Weasley was a Gryffindor. It didn't make sense to Jamie.
Although…, just before he returned to school after Christmas this year, Jamie overheard an argument between his mum and aunt. They were shouting at each other, which doesn't happen often, so it must have been serious.
"…can't keep lying to me! What is wrong with you?"
"Ginny, you have to see it from our side! Strange things are going on with him-"
"So you wrote to Neville? Without even thinking to ask me about it?"
"Well he is the head of Gryffindor, and you don't tell me things anymore! Not since the war."
"But he's my son, Hermione! My son!"
"Exactly! Sure he's your son, that's easy to see. The question is, is he Harry's? I don't know about you, but the man I can see in Jamie is defiantly not Harry Potter, it's – "
"Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Going over the scene in his mind Jamie tried to make sense of what was happening. Then it slowly dawned on Jamie what his aunt had been implying. That he wasn't Harry Potter's son. Suddenly Jamie felt sick. He buckled at the knees and began to fall. Finally things were becoming clear. The old school hat wasn't as senile as he had thought. In-fact, it was canny to the situation long before anyone else.
Jamie didn't even feel the fire as he fell into it, his mind going blank.
The first thing Jamie said when he opened his eyes and saw his mum was "Who am I?". At the question Ginny instantly replied; "James Harrison S. Potter."
"I know that mum." He replied coldly. "What I meant was who am I? Who am I really? Who is my father?"
His mum shifted uncomfortably on his bed. Although the question caught her off guard, it was clear that she had been expecting such a question one day. "The Hospital Wing is not the best place to be discussing such things, James."
"Just tell me mum."
"Maybe once you have been cleared, we can go home have a rest and – "
"Tell me who he is! Thirteen years is a long time to hide something this big from me. I have the right to know."
The nurse bustled over. "You're free to go Mr Potter. Just remember to put this salve on your burns twice daily and come see me if the pain comes back."
Jamie's mum sighed, defeated. She stood up and took Jamie by the hand, leading him out of the Hospital Wing up to a very familiar office. Barely missing a heartbeat she spoke the password and walked up the staircase to a heavy oak door. The door opened and Jamie tentatively followed his mum in.
"Mum, what are we doing here?" He whispered.
A gruff voice sounded out from the shadows behind the headmaster's desk. "Can I help you Mrs Potter?"
Standing a little straighter Jamie's mum looked almost like the defiant schoolgirl she had once been.
"I am here to make an introduction." She turned to her son. "James Harrison S. Potter, I introduce you to your biological father."
The headmaster stepped forward into the light and looked Jamie up and down. "Very touching Mrs Potter. May I inquire as to what the 'S' stands for?"
"I thought that would be obvious, to you at least. It's his father's name, your name."
"James Harrison Snape Potter. I like it." Professor Snape tested the name in his mouth. "Although, I would prefer it if there was no Potter on the end." He smirked.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, wish I did but I don't, so there.