Chapter Fourteen: The Third Guardian

"My father," Harry repeated, his heart pounding loudly.

"Yes," Rita seemed to falter from his lack of response. Ron cursed silently next to where Harry sat. Harry tried to make himself more comfy on the uncomfortable sofa, but to no avail.

"He's in the other room?" he asked.

"Yes," she quietly whispered. "Did you want to see him?"

"Why is he here?" Harry continued to question

"He's you're father, he wants to see you!"

"He wants to see me or did you ask him to see me?"

"We got talking and he said we would like to meet his son!"

"So I've never met him before?"

"Well… no… but let's not worry about that, he wants to see you now."

"He didn't want to see me before, then?"

"HE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BEFORE!" she burst out, angrier than she intended. Harry wanted to give her a wicked smile, but he wanted her to feel how he was feeling now.

"You didn't tell him," Harry stated calmly. Lily and Ron glanced at each other, suspicions high.

"I didn't get a chance to!" she defended herself.

"Why not?"

"He left me, I – "

"You couldn't send him an owl or something?"

"Owl?" Rita asked.

"Letters, sorry. LETTERS! Why didn't you send him letters? Or e-mail?" Harry knew a little about computers because of Dudley, but he never used them – or, at least, he didn't think he did.

"I figured he would have come back to me before you were born and I would have told him then!"

"Way to go, Mum, you couldn't even try after I was born to call him," Harry grumbled, but he held a smug face. He realized he didn't care at all – Rita was no way close to fulfilling his idea of what his mother would have been. He felt a need for a better mother figure, but realized he had one. As if on queue, the door opened and two guards let a disheveled woman who looked as if she had only taken a few minutes to get ready.

"Petunia!"

"Rita," Petunia darkly acknowledged her.

"She's trying to take Harry away!" Ron added helpfully.

"Sorry?" Petunia's eyes flashed towards him.

"She wants to bring him home with her!"

"How could you!" she screeched in Rita's direction. "He is my son, in all ways but one, sister! You can't do this! You know how much he means to me!"

"He is my son!" Rita argued.

"You didn't raise him! You left him on my doorstep with a short note and a few clothes! I could forgive you for doing that, after all, you did leave him with someone capable, but this! Taking him back after fifteen years! Despicable!"

"I never signed the papers!"

"I'm aware; I've been fighting you for years!"

Harry was enjoying himself immensely, mostly because Rita was getting what she deserved and two people were fighting to be his mother.

"Excuse me?" there was a knock at the door. "Am I interrupting?"

"James!" Rita opened the door for him, and the guards looked disgruntled. "This is your son, Harry." Her sickly sweet smile was back as soon as it went last time. She seemed to be clinging to his arm expectantly.

"I thought you said his name was Larry?" James asked. His hair was flat and slicked back with hair gel and he had square glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"She would, wouldn't she?" Harry grumbled, but was looking up at his father with awe. He looked impressive – his suit looked very expensive and he looked well groomed. He looked… rich.

"Son," James smiled slightly, but looked uneasy. "How's it going?"

"Dandy," Harry replied but then felt immediately bad for his unnecessary sarcasm. His father had done nothing wrong. "Er - I mean… everything's fine… Dad…" The word felt very foreign to him.

"So…" James rocked on his heels while jingling some coins that were in his pocket.

"So," Harry repeated awkwardly.

"What kind of things do you like to do?"

"Er… chess, I suppose," Harry muttered. What did he like?

"Chess? Is that all?"

"It appears I enjoy making things up," Harry added, a little annoyed.

"Harry, think positive!" Petunia calmly interrupted.

"I'm sorry, I've never had a son before today," James laughed quietly.

"You did, you just didn't know about it before today," Harry corrected.

"I… well I've known for a week… I'm still shocked about it," he said. "I should have been prepared."

"Why? Sixteen years of not knowing you had offspring? C'mon, Dad, of course you aren't prepared," Harry pointed out. "Who would expect you to be?"

"Well, er…"

"I'm just surprised you are not mad about it. I mean, she kept it from you all this time!"

"Larry, hush!" Rita scolded.

"His name is Harry, dear," James reminded her.

"Yes, yes, sorry. I keep forgetting." She chewed on her tongue.

"She named you after my middle name. James Harold Potter. She told me yesterday that she was so close to naming you – sorry, dear, what was it?"

"Lawrence," she smiled and then added with sugary emphasis, "dear" Lawrence!

"Yes, I figure she is mixing the letters up without meaning to."

"Mmm," Harry hummed as a response because he couldn't think of anything else, but then darkly continued, "Why would you want to be with Rita?"

"P-pardon?" James stuttered, seemingly amazed by his outburst.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Rita screeched. "Stop this rudeness immediately! And you will address me as 'Mother' or 'Mum' and not – "

"Rita?" added Harry helpfully.

"Precisely," she sniffed.

"What about Mummy? Is that okay, too?" he sniggered.

"If you must," she darted her eyes to the floor and he could tell she was grinding her teeth.

"How about Mama?" he grinned.

"You get the idea!" she snapped.

"Touchy," Harry smiled .

"-So, Harry," James said, trying to lighten the conversation. "How would you feel if you moved closer to us for a while?"

"I wouldn't," Harry said without thinking. James blinked, apparently surprised and hurt. "I mean, well… um… I don't think this would be the best time… and… uh…"

"Of course he would, don't be silly, Harry!" She glared at him with accusing eyes.

"But-" James started.

"He'll love it there!" she smiled charmingly at him.

"How will you know?" Harry snappishly said.

"Trust me," she wasn't talking to him, but to James. "He'll learn."

"You make it sound as if it's official," Harry protested.

"It is, I've already signed the transfer forms I was given when he was first admitted," she shifted through her annoyingly gigantic red handbag and pulled out an official looking folded up paper. Harry noticed that along the edge that there was lipstick smudges.

"Rita, darling, really – " James feebly said.

"I'm his rightful guardian!" she hushed him.

"I won't go!" Harry stood from his seat.

"Rita, we talked about this – "

"I don't care, James!" Rita harshly snapped. "He's my son!"

"You can't do this!" came Petunia's strangled cry. "He is my son, or as good as one can get! You have little right to waltz in here one day and take him away! No, It is not going to happen!"

"Maybe it's best if we just – " James began.

"James!" Rita scolded. "He's your son too! You should be on my side!" Harry began chuckling. His father really needed to be more assertive.

"You can't do this!" Petunia yelled. "I won't let you! I'm calling a lawyer!"