Stories of Our Fathers
M.C. Deltat

"No matter how many times I come here, it never ceases to amaze me." Harry smiled a great grin as he gazed upon the Hogwarts Express. "So many amazing experiences, so many amazing people, and so many amazing memories of me rushing out my summer homework on the train." He continued.

"Ya, sure dad." His son, Albus, noncommittally muttered.

Harry pivoted his head away from the train and glanced down towards his son. Albus silently paced alongside his father, shifty-eyed and scared of his own shadow. He was slouching, barely a step away from receding into himself. The very sun itself seemed too aggressive a challenge for his boy. To be surrounded in such a public place was even worse; it might as well have been his death knell.

Harry couldn't help but sigh. Despite many earnest attempts, Harry had failed in getting Albus to engage with him beyond the simplest hello. Throughout the entirety of his summer break, his son was little more than a spectre in the house, constantly disappearing at odd times to do who knows what. Fortunately, Harry was resolved. Despite being on the train station itself, Harry would continue trying, even this late. He would just shift gears.

"So… Are you excited to be returning back to Hogwarts?" Harry slowly asked. "I was so overwhelmed my first year, but despite… some… difficulties…" Harry slowed as he spoke, "I ultimately couldn't wait to get back to school. To see all my friends again, to be back in the wizarding world, to be allowed to practice magic again… Merlin it was beautiful." Harry was more reminiscing now than speaking to his son.

Albus noticed.

"Dad, could you not?" Albus quietly whined.

Harry refocused. "What?" he exclaimed. "I am just wondering how my boy is liking school." He leaned down towards his son. "How are your classes? Do you get homesick? Are you getting along with your friends?" Harry stood back up straight in an exaggerated fashion. "Merlin, we talk so little I feel like you are just a tenant living in my flat. You come over to get food and then disappear not to be seen again… well at least until you need food again." Harry silently chuckled.

"DAD!" Albus was louder now, with blushed cheeks. "Please. Just stop."

"Why?" Harry asked. "What's the issue?" He noticed Albus's eyes were shifting erratically side to side, rapidly taking in the surroundings. Harry smiled again. "Oh, I get it. Second -years don't like to be seen with their dads." He laughed. "Well, I am afraid you will have to suffer me for a little while longer."

Albus said nothing. In the silence, Harry could finally hear what Albus had been distracted by.

"Oh, that's Harry Potter!" a voice chattered.

"Do you think he would sign my broomstick?" Another asked.

"Don't worry about it," Harry bent down as he attempted to assure his son. "It's just people looking, okay? People always will look. It's one of the things…" Harry was interrupted before he could finish.

"Whose is that?" a third voice asked some distance away.

"Its his son." Someone answered. "His Slytherin son." They whispered.

"What a shame." Someone muttered. "What a shame."

"Oh…" Harry muttered under his breath. He turned his head towards the peanut gallery. Met with an angry glare from the Boy-Who-Lived, they quickly squirmed away. Harry turned his head back, an intensely sad look on his face. His hands almost shot up to rub at the stress building up in his forehead; he stopped himself though. "Look…son…" Harry struggled to find the worlds.

Albus had no such difficulty.

"Harry Potter and his disappointing son." Albus gnawed at the words.

"Wait a sec…" Harry tried to interrupt.

"Harry Potter and his Slytherin son." Albus added.

"Wait - Hold on!" Harry interrupted his son. "Is that the issue? Is that actually what you are ashamed about?" Harry had a shocked look on his face; a face juxtaposed by his son's bright red flushed cheeks. Harry put a hand on Albus' shoulder. "I will let you in on a little secret Al…"

"Albus." Albus interrupted. "My name is Albus." He shook Harry's hand off his shoulder.

Harry frowned, but continued none-the-less. "Alright then Albus. No one cares about your Hogwarts house. Maybe a little bit when you are a student, but afterwards" Harry shook his head, "It doesn't matter a single bit."

Albus didn't say anything. He knew what he heard just moments ago and he knew that Harry heard them as well. His deadpan expression was enough to make Harry cough awkwardly for a second before recovering.

"Well… urh…" Harry struggled for a moment. "Fine, there might be some people who still do care. But you know what we call them?" Harry could see that Albus wasn't going to guess, so he answered the question himself. "We call them losers Albus. Only losers care about the Hogwarts house that someone was sorted into by a magical hat." Harry paused in consideration. "Judgement done when you are still a young child," Harry added as an afterthought. "Trust me, anyone who puts any level of importance on something as trivial as that… well that is a person who peaked in school."

"Dad…" Albus couldn't help himself. "You peaked in school."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but no sounds came out. He tried again, but still nothing of note came out. Eventually, his brain kickstarted up again. "Well, technically I dropped out before starting my final year. I don't count." He leaned in close to his son's ear and whispered. "Don't tell your mom I said that though. She would kill me if she knew that I implied that option."

Albus couldn't help but frown again. "It's looking more and more likely each day."

Harry put his hands on his knees and slowly stood up; his creaking joints reminding him of his age. "Oh, don't worry. It'll get worse as the years go by. As someone who was dangerously close to peaking in school, each new day allows for new horrors." Harry shrugged. "Hopefully in your case though, OWLs and NEWTs are your most extreme adventures."

Albus put his hands on his hips. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He asked. "Cause it isn't."

"No no, hearing about it never made me feel any better either." Harry admitted. "I can say that I definitely had easier moments in my life." Turning his head to scan the crowds, Harry began to ask out loud. "Now where is your brother? It's almost time for me to get your butts on the train." Harry looked a little longer without success. "JAMES! Come on!" he yelled.

Hearing his dad, James ran up to and quickly past the pair. He had time to yell out a comment though. "Let's go you slithering Slytherin!" James' yelling was clearly directed at someone. "Time to get onto the train!"

Harry glanced at Albus' face. He could easily recognize the shame returning to his son's eyes.

He sighed.

"Looks like I have to deal with this now." Harry muttered. Looking back to his other son, Harry yelled back at him in his best dad voice. "James. Get over here."

"See you at Christmas." James answered. There was a slight hesitance in his pace now.

"Now!" Harry insisted. He watched as James ceased his running and performed an about face.

As James watched back, he couldn't help but whine. "Daaaaadddd. I'm gonna be late for the train. I promised that I would meet up with…"

Harry interrupted his son with a wave of a hand. "You will have all of the next year to flirt as much as you want." His eyes focused as his face went stern. "Now, why did you do that?" Harry asked.

"Do what?" James asked.

"Do you want me to take you to Hogwarts myself?" Harry asked. "Trust me, I will." After a few moments of his children saying nothing, Harry continued. "Now, apologize."

"Fiinnnneee." James moaned. Robotically, James turned his head to his brother and spit out a reluctant apology. He had been getting a lot of practice lately in making them sound sincere. "Albus, I am sorry that I made fun of your scaley exterior. Would you please forgive me for calling you what you are… a slimy snake?"

He clearly needed a lot more practice.

"Wow. Thanks James." Albus' voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Harry had to resist the urge to smack both his sons. Instead, he put a firm on hand on both their heads. He made sure that they were paying attention. "Listen to me boys. You two, along with your sister, share blood. I expect you all to be cordial to each other… at the very least." Harry enunciated. "In a few decades, when your mother and me are old and senile, it would be beneficial to have someone you can implicitly trust. In an ideal world, any one of you would turn to a brother or sister without hesitation for help. No one else in the world will ever want the best for you as much as your family would. When I was young and alone, I would have traded the world for someone like that. For someone that I could trust no matter what… for someone that would trust me no matter what."

The dead faces on his sons' faces told him all he needed to know. Harry couldn't help but sigh again.

"Look, just try to be nice to each other." Harry requested. "If not for each other, do it for me. Who knows, you might like having someone on your side, someone whom you can trust."

"Like, I have friends." James snarked. He pointed to his brother. "Maybe it's this one you should be saying this too."

"I have friends." An indignant Albus retorted.

Harry let out a deep exhale and let go of his sons' heads. "James… go ahead onto the train."

"Ha! See you later Al!" James yelled as he ran off.

Seeing his other son begin to squirm, Harry decided to quickly put an end to that. "Not you Albus. I need to still speak to you."

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Albus shouted. "Why can James go? Why is he getting special treatment?"

Harry shook his head. "He isn't getting special treatment, you are. I still need to talk to you."

"I don't want special treatment." Albus bit out. "I just want you to let me go. I want to get on that train and …"

"And do go where? Where in Hogwarts do you spend your time?" Harry asked. "Based on what I hear from Mistress McGonagall, you don't go to the library, you don't go to the great hall, you don't go to the quidditch pitch… where do you go?"

"Nowhere." Albus defiantly whispered. "I go nowhere."

"Nowhere can be a lonely place to be, Albus." Harry whispered back. "Trust me. I know about all of that. That is why I want you to get along with your family. If you don't have any friends, at the very least please make an effort to speak more to your family. Even if they don't look it, they will be glad to keep you company. Regardless of house." Harry added.

"I have friends." Albus responded.

"You have a friend… as in one." Harry amended.

"And you only had two, dad." Albus responded. "From what I hear, sometimes it was less."

Harry couldn't say anything to that. He and his son just stood there in silence for a few moments. Luckily, an intruder came up to break the stalemate.

"Harry Potter. I must speak to you." A voice in the distance requested.

Unluckily, Harry recognized the voice. As he turned to face the new person, he steeled his face and tried to kept his voice as neutral as possible. "Draco." Harry bit out.

Draco looks as prim and proper as he always did. His robes were perfectly tailored. His blond ponytail was perfectly trimmed. Indeed, he carried himself with a confidently posture; a posture completely at odds with squirrely blonde boy standing at his side. Still, he did noticeably pause when he heard Harry's response. Despite a good-natured attempt from Harry to appear unbiased, Draco could still sense some nastiness from his former classmate.

With a couple seconds of thought, Draco decided a change of plans was needed. He turned his head to Albus. "Hello younger Potter. How are you doing?"

Albus at first didn't want to respond, but then he felt his dad's firm grip on his shoulder, and knew that he wouldn't get away without saying something. "Hello Mister Malfoy." He meekly replied. "I am fine."

"Are you excited to start your second year?" Draco inquired, irrelevant of Albus' clear reluctance to speak.

"Thrilled." Albus answered.

"Fantastic." Draco looked back to Harry. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind your boy assisting mine onto the train?" He fondly placed a hand on Scorpius head.

"Daaaad." Scorpius moaned.

"It was such a struggle to get him out of bed this morning." Draco ignored his son. "And while I would love to see him onto the train personally, I really do need to speak to you."

"Uh…" Harry stammered. With a quick look at Albus' face, he knew that he had no real option. To be honest, the obvious effort his son was putting into hiding the enthusiasm at a chance of escape… well frankly… it hurt. Harry tried to put on his best smile. "Sure." He looked down at Albus. "Go on ahead. Make sure that Scorpius gets on the train safely."

The smile that erupted on his boy's face warmed Harry's heart immensely. "Thanks Dad. Love you." Albus jabbered out. He turned to Scorpius, who was also sporting a similar smile. "Let's get onboard before we miss the train." They both jog to the Hogwarts Express, luggage in hand.

Draco and Harry stand in comfortable silence for a moment; Both of them content to watch as their sons get another step closer to beginning their second year of Hogwarts. Eventually though, Harry decided to end the silence.

"Did you know?" Harry asked. "About their friendship, I mean."

"Of course, I knew." Draco scoffed. "I don't know how the Potters do things, but I keep track of what members of my family do. That includes with whom they choose to associate with."

"Do you approve?" Harry probed.

Draco deeply exhaled as he considered his words. "It doesn't matter if I approve." He eventually answered. "I will do whatever ensures the happiness of my family. If that includes allowing my son to be best friends with your son, then so be it. The smile I just saw on his face, as he ran away, makes it all worth it."

Harry could only nod in agreement.

"With that in mind however," Draco circled back, "I return to my original point."

"Draco," Harry tried to interrupt. "I already know what you are about to ask, please understand that…"

Draco wouldn't be denied though. "Then you should already know how bad the rumors have gotten. Regardless of my best efforts, I find myself unable to help my son." Draco frowned. "Exaggerations and lies about Scorpius 'true parentage' continue to propagate with no end in sight." He said in disgust. "No matter what I do, it won't end." Draco put on as earnest a look as he could. "Look, please, I need help. I need something." Draco paused for a moment for Harry to speak, but when nothing was said, he kept going. "It doesn't have to be official. The ministry can stay silent if they so desire. But if you," Draco pointed at Harry, "If you come out, even informally, and say something… I don't know, that all Time-Turners were destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries… well that might be enough."

Harry rubbed his chin slowly before speaking. With regret, he found himself in an immensely unenviable situation. "Draco, it may seem callous to say this, but unfounded rumors are exactly that: unfounded. They will die and people will move on. It is the nature of such things."

"You are correct in one aspect." Draco's hands went red as they clenched tightly. "You are being incredibly callous." He began to enunciate with his hands at this point. "My wife is already ill beyond belief. My son and I spend every day praying to Merlin that we may spend one more day with her; perpetually wondering if she will survive to see the next sun rise." Draco's face grew red. "But no, that isn't enough of a strain for my boy to deal with. Not to you it seems. He needs more pain bearing down upon his soul. Not only must he live with the strain of a frail mother, he must also deal with the constant whispers, the constant lies that he is descended from one of the evilest men in all of British History."

Draco paused for a moment, catching himself before he lost his temper completely. After a few deep breathes he continued.

"Look, the rumors are complete fabrications. You know this, I know this. You are aware of all I do; I know it for a fact." He ignored Harry's look of shock, continuing on. "But still… but still you tell me to endure. Still, you insist on my family living our lives with this shadow cast over us. Despite how I, my wife, and most importantly, my son all feel about the rumors?"

Harry, at this point, had resolved his face. With the skill sharped by years of telling people news that they really didn't want to hear, he began to speak. "Draco, I sympathize with your struggle. Truly, I really do." Harry added after seeing Draco's face. "But look, practically, what can I really do?" Harry asked.

"You are the Boy-Who-Won!" Draco began to yell. "Your wife is an editor on the most popular…"

"Let me finish." Harry firmly interrupted. "As I was saying, your family's situation truly is a shame. But the fact of that matter is that rumors will always exist. There will always be dregs of society spreading filth about others in the shadowy corners of society. Likewise, there will always be people who find it within themselves to believe whatever is told to them. Attempting to correct the rumors with honeyed words, or attempting to squash the rumors with merciless force" Harry paused for a moment before continuing, "This will only make people believe that we are hiding something; that there is some small glimmer of truth to the lies. If you cut out a man's tongue, you only make others think that you are scared of what would be said otherwise. The fact of the matter is that calling attention to the rumors by addressing them, would only make your situation worse."

Draco, at this point, was clearly livid. However, he had enough control to wait until Harry finished his piece. He took a deep breathe, as he needed to calm the rage somehow. Otherwise, what would come out of his mouth next would not be words, but unintelligible screams. He was taught better than that. "I, for the life of me, cannot believe that the drivel I just heard just came out of your mouth." Draco pretended to be in thought for a moment. "Do you actually believe that rubbish or are you just parroting lines given to you by your beloved Minister for Magic?" Draco asked.

"Are you insulting Hermione?" There was an implied threat in Harry's voice; a promise of pain.

"No, just her attack dog." Draco replied without missing a beat. When Harry said nothing, Draco continued. "Either way, I am stunned. Have you forgotten your own childhood? Have you forgotten all your trials and tribulations when you were but a boy?"

"Now wait a second…" Harry began.

"Quiet, Harry." Draco interrupted. "I let you say your piece. Now, it is my turn." Harry stayed quiet and Draco pressed on. "Have you forgotten the little boy with a scar on his forehead that spent six years in Hogwarts desperately reaching out for someone, for anyone to grab on?" Draco's hand went to his head and slicked back his hair despite its already perfect condition. "I think you must have, considering the swill you are spewing at the moment. Don't worry though, I'll remind you of a few of those moments." He began counting them on his fingers. "Fifth year, battered and bullied, no one would dare help you in any tangible way as Umbridge had her way with Hogwarts. Fourth year, ostracized and alone, no one dared believe your innocence… the fact that you didn't put your name in the goblet of fire. Third year, chased and harassed, the dementors pursued you with greater enthusiasm than the Azkaban escapee himself. Second year…" Draco paused in thought before continuing, "Second year, you were accused of opening the chamber of secrets; the heir to a legacy of murder… no one would dare even speak to you. And then finally, First year, the philosopher's stone. Not a single person would believe you, nor help you. You recognized a threat, but no one would help you deal with it."

By now, Harry could no longer suppress his own fury; the evidence was clearly appearing on his face. Pacing side to side, he looked angrily at Draco. "Are you done?"

Draco nodded.

Harry nodded in return. "I would claim that every single one of those situations was in no manner at all similar to that of your son."

"YOU WERE ACCUSED OF BEING SLYTHERIN'S HEIR!" Draco shouted. He caught himself before speaking again. He was notably more in control as he spoke. "I believe that is very similar to being called Voldemort's prodigy." Draco thought for a second. "The very same, in fact."

Harry glared at Draco. "I might consider to mention that perhaps half of those situations where all caused by your father and his cronies." Draco's face softened a bit at the comment. Harry kept speaking none-the-less. "But I digress. I don't believe in the son paying for the sins of the father. You have paid for your own crimes. Indeed, I might claim that you still pay a price for your own crimes. Maybe you might never stop paying." Harry shrugged. "With that in mind, I do have some advice for you Draco. When you approach others, asking for favors, take heed that you do not pivot into making demands."

Draco said nothing. He chose to stand silent.

"I will repeat myself though," Harry added. "For the sake of clarity. It is a shameful truth, that acknowledging, addressing, combating rumors will only encourage further rumors. Please acknowledge that you are asking me to essentially turn this snide snowball of a situation into an avalanche of pure malice. Many people have been accused of being Voldemort's heir, including myself, as you so graciously reminded me. Many people will continue to be accused of being Voldemort's heir. For the sake of this nation's sanity, we must not signal out any individual." Harry paused to make sure that Draco was truly listening. "For the sake of our Ministry, and for the sake of each person, it is the official policy of the Ministry of Magic that we remain silent when such accusations are levied." Harry caught his breathe for a moment before adding an afterthought. "Truthfully, I would expect someone of your business acumen and heritage to appreciate the delicate political situation that I, and our Minister for Magic, find ourselves when moving forward in the face of such accusations and fear; especially when I consider your parents."

Harry, finished, waited for Draco to say something… to say anything. It took a while as Draco's head swayed back and forth; lost in thought. In this moment in silence, Harry finally noticed little traces of imperfections on the man's face. Traces that he had not noticed when he had first approached. The beginnings of crow's feet, stress lines, and bags under his eyes. Despite the posture with which he presented himself, Draco was tired.

So was Harry. He was so tired of everything in his life.

Draco eventually found it within himself to speak. "You are right. I learned a great deal of Machiavellian tactics from my parents. But I learned other things from them as well. I learned that sometimes, in the face of danger, a parent will do whatever they must to ensure the survival of their child. Even if that means standing up to the Dark Lord himself and pretending that the Boy-Who-Lived is dead."

As he spoke, a loud chime echoed throughout the platform. Once it finished, the Hogwarts express slowly started chugging out of the station.

Draco looked at the train, before looking back at Harry. "I have somewhere I need to be. This conversation is not over, not even close. We will speak again – I promise it. Until then, please consider all that has been said and please consider helping my son."

Draco walked a few steps away from Harry before disapparating. As the train slowly sped up, many of the parents still on the platform mirrored the act. Harry didn't leave just yet though. He wanted to watch until the train, and his son, were completely gone.