"I know I'm British. And I think I'm German," said Neville.
"German?" snorted Ron. "Das ist lächerlich!" [AN: "That is ridiculous!"]
"What?" said Neville confusedly.
"Never mind," answered Ron, who was now cracking up with laughter.
"I'm African and British," said Dean Thomas.
"Well I'm pure Irish," replied Seamus Finnigan loudly.
"Hush, all of you, back there!" came Professor Binns' voice.
The fourth year Gryffindors were in their History of Magic class that afternoon and as we all know, it was quite the bore. Many of them were having their own private conversations, and not listening to one word their teacher was saying. It had started out with Quidditch, and before they knew it, their discussion had turned to ethnicities.
Harry lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "You know, I really have no idea what I am."
His best friend Ron Weasley looked at him. "You're British Harry. Pure British."
"Well I don't know that for sure. No one has ever really told me, you know. For all we know," said Harry, "I could be African like Dean!"
"Don't be silly Harry," came Hermione, his other best friend. "African? That is highly improbable. Although Harry does have a point," she said, turning to Ron, "If no one has ever told Harry what his background is.he could very well be something else besides British."
"I can't go around like this," said Harry. "I need to know what I am. I mean, without my ethnicity, I just wouldn't be complete. I'd be --- I'd be --- I'd be a non-ethnicity knower loner!!" he wailed.
"Oh hey, that rhymed!" said Ron absentmindedly.
Hermione ignored Ron. "You're not a loner, Harry" she assured him.
"Yes, but I'm going to feel like one until I know what I am! I need to know!"
"Don't worry Harry, we'll help you."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione finished the rest of their school day. After Potions, Harry took a little run up to the Owlry so he could send Sirius, his godfather, an owl asking him if he knew his ethnicity.
"Sirius would know," said Harry excitedly. "He and my dad were best friends! I'm sure my dad told him everything about his background!"
They quickly reached the Owlry and hurriedly Harry scribbled on a piece of parchment:
Dear Sirius,
I hope you and Buckbeak are all right. I just had a quick question to ask you because this was bothering me today and I thought you, of all people, would know. What's my ethnic background? I'm very sure my dad told you, and maybe I can find out about my mum's half from my Aunt Petunia next summer or something. Well, let me know soon!
Harry
After writing that down, he attached it to Hedwig, his snowy, white owl. "Take this to Sirius as quickly as possible, okay?" he asked Hedwig, while stroking her head softly. He opened the window and let her out, watching her fly into the horizon, out of sight.
Feeling much better he, Ron and Hermione strolled down to the Great Hall for dinner. Two days later, an owl swooped in during breakfast and landed a letter in front of Harry, who picked it up.
"It's from Sirius," read Harry quietly.
"Open it!" said Hermione excitedly.
"Yeah Harry! Go on! You'll see I was right. You're pure British," came Ron.
Harry tore open the envelope and took out a piece of parchment.
Dear Harry,
I'm all right, thank you very much. And so is Buckbeak. About your ethnicity Harry, . . .
"It's going to say 'pure British,' I know it is," interrupted Ron "intelligently".
. . .to tell you the truth, I have no idea what your ethnic background is. James never told me a thing about it, or maybe he did, and I maybe I forgot. I think you are British, but if you're anything else besides that, I'm not sure what they are. You could be African, for all we know. Sorry I couldn't help much.
Sirius
"What?!" cried Harry in disbelief. "He doesn't know?! How could he not know?! He was my dad's best friend and HE DOESN'T KNOW!!"
People in the Great Hall looked towards Harry as he yelled out those last three words.
"Calm down, mate," said Ron. "There's no need to bellow it out like that. I'm sure we can find out from someone."
"Oh Harry," came Hermione's soft voice, "I'm sorry you didn't find out. There will be other times, you know. Other people. Perhaps Dumbledore knows."
Ron took the parchment out of Harry's grasp and read it.
"African?" Ron snorted. "Kuwa ni cheshi!" [AN: "That is funny!"]
Hermione and Harry turned at Ron and gave him a look that said something like "What the heck?"
Ron looked back at them, blushing as red as his hair. "Hidden talent of mine," he said sheepishly. "I can do Japanese, if you like."
"Uh, no. That's okay, Ron," said Harry. "What I need right now is to find someone who can tell me what I am."
Hermione shook her head. "Harry didn't you hear me earlier?"
"No," said Harry flatly. "I was listening to Ron." He looked at him with another odd look.
"All right!! All right!! It was Swahili! Not African!!" confessed Ron dramatically.
They ignored him.
"Harry, Dumbledore knows everything. Why don't you try asking him?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah! Good idea!"
The two of them rushed out, leaving a language-disturbed Ron to his "special" talent in the Great Hall. Harry, who had been to Dumbedore's office many times before, found his way to the place with ease. Two stone gargoyles, which stood in front of the entrance to the office, waited silently for them to speak the password.
"Cockroach clusters," said Harry.
The gargoyles didn't move.
"What?! That was the password last time!"
"Try something else," suggested Hermione.
"Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, lemon drops, Fizzing Whizbees, chocolate frogs, acid pops, lollipops! Mars Bars?"
Instantly the two gargoyles hopped aside, revealing a large wooden door.
"Wow," said Hermione bemused, "Dumbledore must really like muggle candy."
"I guess so," said Harry as he rushed inside.
The two entered a large and circular room. On the walls were various paintings of previous headmasters, and headmistresses, all of which were moving with life. In the corner of his eye Harry could see two headmistresses fixing each other's hair.
"Hello Mr. Potter and Miss Granger," came a voice from the center of the room. Both jumped in shock as they turned to Professor Dumbledore, who was sitting at his desk petting his phoenix Fawkes.
"Hello Professor," they both said quietly.
"Now what can I do for you today? I'm sure it must be important, if class hasn't even started yet."
"Well, Professor," spoke up Harry, "I was wondering whether or not you could tell me --- tell me what my ethnicity is."
A smile grew on the face of their old Headmaster. "I was wondering when you'd think of this. It took a while, didn't it?" Dumbledore asked. "But I am very sorry to say, Harry, but I do not really know. You could be African for all we know."
Harry's face gave a look of shock, and perhaps a bit of annoyance.
"However," continued Dumbledore, "I am very sure Hagrid has given you something that may tell you what you are."
Both Harry and Hermione revealed looks of curiosity. Just then, the school bell rang.
"Well then, I guess it's time for class to begin," said Dumbledore. "And time for me to get started on all the perks of being a headmaster." He smiled at them. "I hope you find out soon, Harry." And with a sweep of his robes he left the office through a door opposite from where they entered.
Harry and Hermione quickly left Dumbledore's office and headed to the dungeons for their first class, double potions with Slytherin. It didn't go too well because Professor Snape was in a much fouler mood than usual, and Draco Malfoy, Harry's rival, had kept on scribbling little doodles of a black Harry Potter and tossing them at Harry's head.
"How does he know about all this?" asked Ron scathingly. He hated Malfoy and his family to death because they had always criticized the Weasleys for being poor.
"I don't know," said Harry dully. "He finds out everything. What I want to know is what did Hagrid give me?"
Harry sat there thinking about all the Christmas gifts and birthday presents he'd received from Hagrid, but couldn't think of anything that would hold such importance. They were all either his favorite kinds of wizard candy or his homemade treacle fudge. "Well there was that once time he gave me that biting book," said Harry to himself. But he didn't think there was anything about his family in a man-eating book. "Book!" he thought to himself excitedly.
"Ron! Hermione!" he whispered. "Do you remember that book with pictures of my family that Hagrid gave me in my first year?" They both nodded their heads. "Well in the back of it was my family tree! And a little summary on where everyone came from! I don't remember where exactly, but I know they didn't all live in Britain!"
"Mr. Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for talking while I am speaking." Snape looked at Harry with a look of loathing, and then resumed to teaching.
Harry couldn't help but feel excited during the rest of the morning. At the lunch bell, he rushed out of Herbology immediately. Ron and Hermione desperately tried to keep up with him, but Harry was in such a rush he had forgotten all about them. He headed for the boys' dormitory and threw open his trunk. He rummaged through it vigorously, throwing out stuff that got into his way. At the bottom of his trunk lay the book Hagrid had given him three years ago. He flipped the pages and turned to the back of the book.
Ron and Hermione finally ran in and stopped to catch their breath.
"It's going --- to --- say you're --- pure British --- Harry," said Ron, who was now panting like a dog.
"I'm not," said Harry, with a sound of disbelief in his voice.
"What?!" asked Ron in astonishment. "Let me look at that." Ron took the book from Harry and began to read it.
"Czechoslovakian --- To jest sm??ný!" [AN: That is ridiculous!"]
"Icelandic?! Þessi er jafnvel fleiri hlægilegur!" [AN: "That is even more ridiculous!"]
"Spanish! Pozo.no me extraña usted haber tal negro cabello." [AN: "Well.no wonder you have such dark hair."]
"Ron," began Hermione exasperatedly, "does it say anywhere in there that Harry is British?"
"Oh," said Ron, "Uh yeah. Right here. See I told you Harry! You are British!"
"Well not pure British, I guess," answered Harry. "At least I know what I am now." He jumped onto his bed and gave a sigh of relief, and perhaps happiness.
"Oh wow," began Ron, "would you look at that. You're African too!!"
"WHAT?!" asked Harry, stunned.
"Just kidding."
Harry laid back onto his bed and glared at Ron. "Kuwa SIO cheshi." [AN: "That IS NOT funny."]
"German?" snorted Ron. "Das ist lächerlich!" [AN: "That is ridiculous!"]
"What?" said Neville confusedly.
"Never mind," answered Ron, who was now cracking up with laughter.
"I'm African and British," said Dean Thomas.
"Well I'm pure Irish," replied Seamus Finnigan loudly.
"Hush, all of you, back there!" came Professor Binns' voice.
The fourth year Gryffindors were in their History of Magic class that afternoon and as we all know, it was quite the bore. Many of them were having their own private conversations, and not listening to one word their teacher was saying. It had started out with Quidditch, and before they knew it, their discussion had turned to ethnicities.
Harry lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "You know, I really have no idea what I am."
His best friend Ron Weasley looked at him. "You're British Harry. Pure British."
"Well I don't know that for sure. No one has ever really told me, you know. For all we know," said Harry, "I could be African like Dean!"
"Don't be silly Harry," came Hermione, his other best friend. "African? That is highly improbable. Although Harry does have a point," she said, turning to Ron, "If no one has ever told Harry what his background is.he could very well be something else besides British."
"I can't go around like this," said Harry. "I need to know what I am. I mean, without my ethnicity, I just wouldn't be complete. I'd be --- I'd be --- I'd be a non-ethnicity knower loner!!" he wailed.
"Oh hey, that rhymed!" said Ron absentmindedly.
Hermione ignored Ron. "You're not a loner, Harry" she assured him.
"Yes, but I'm going to feel like one until I know what I am! I need to know!"
"Don't worry Harry, we'll help you."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione finished the rest of their school day. After Potions, Harry took a little run up to the Owlry so he could send Sirius, his godfather, an owl asking him if he knew his ethnicity.
"Sirius would know," said Harry excitedly. "He and my dad were best friends! I'm sure my dad told him everything about his background!"
They quickly reached the Owlry and hurriedly Harry scribbled on a piece of parchment:
Dear Sirius,
I hope you and Buckbeak are all right. I just had a quick question to ask you because this was bothering me today and I thought you, of all people, would know. What's my ethnic background? I'm very sure my dad told you, and maybe I can find out about my mum's half from my Aunt Petunia next summer or something. Well, let me know soon!
Harry
After writing that down, he attached it to Hedwig, his snowy, white owl. "Take this to Sirius as quickly as possible, okay?" he asked Hedwig, while stroking her head softly. He opened the window and let her out, watching her fly into the horizon, out of sight.
Feeling much better he, Ron and Hermione strolled down to the Great Hall for dinner. Two days later, an owl swooped in during breakfast and landed a letter in front of Harry, who picked it up.
"It's from Sirius," read Harry quietly.
"Open it!" said Hermione excitedly.
"Yeah Harry! Go on! You'll see I was right. You're pure British," came Ron.
Harry tore open the envelope and took out a piece of parchment.
Dear Harry,
I'm all right, thank you very much. And so is Buckbeak. About your ethnicity Harry, . . .
"It's going to say 'pure British,' I know it is," interrupted Ron "intelligently".
. . .to tell you the truth, I have no idea what your ethnic background is. James never told me a thing about it, or maybe he did, and I maybe I forgot. I think you are British, but if you're anything else besides that, I'm not sure what they are. You could be African, for all we know. Sorry I couldn't help much.
Sirius
"What?!" cried Harry in disbelief. "He doesn't know?! How could he not know?! He was my dad's best friend and HE DOESN'T KNOW!!"
People in the Great Hall looked towards Harry as he yelled out those last three words.
"Calm down, mate," said Ron. "There's no need to bellow it out like that. I'm sure we can find out from someone."
"Oh Harry," came Hermione's soft voice, "I'm sorry you didn't find out. There will be other times, you know. Other people. Perhaps Dumbledore knows."
Ron took the parchment out of Harry's grasp and read it.
"African?" Ron snorted. "Kuwa ni cheshi!" [AN: "That is funny!"]
Hermione and Harry turned at Ron and gave him a look that said something like "What the heck?"
Ron looked back at them, blushing as red as his hair. "Hidden talent of mine," he said sheepishly. "I can do Japanese, if you like."
"Uh, no. That's okay, Ron," said Harry. "What I need right now is to find someone who can tell me what I am."
Hermione shook her head. "Harry didn't you hear me earlier?"
"No," said Harry flatly. "I was listening to Ron." He looked at him with another odd look.
"All right!! All right!! It was Swahili! Not African!!" confessed Ron dramatically.
They ignored him.
"Harry, Dumbledore knows everything. Why don't you try asking him?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah! Good idea!"
The two of them rushed out, leaving a language-disturbed Ron to his "special" talent in the Great Hall. Harry, who had been to Dumbedore's office many times before, found his way to the place with ease. Two stone gargoyles, which stood in front of the entrance to the office, waited silently for them to speak the password.
"Cockroach clusters," said Harry.
The gargoyles didn't move.
"What?! That was the password last time!"
"Try something else," suggested Hermione.
"Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, lemon drops, Fizzing Whizbees, chocolate frogs, acid pops, lollipops! Mars Bars?"
Instantly the two gargoyles hopped aside, revealing a large wooden door.
"Wow," said Hermione bemused, "Dumbledore must really like muggle candy."
"I guess so," said Harry as he rushed inside.
The two entered a large and circular room. On the walls were various paintings of previous headmasters, and headmistresses, all of which were moving with life. In the corner of his eye Harry could see two headmistresses fixing each other's hair.
"Hello Mr. Potter and Miss Granger," came a voice from the center of the room. Both jumped in shock as they turned to Professor Dumbledore, who was sitting at his desk petting his phoenix Fawkes.
"Hello Professor," they both said quietly.
"Now what can I do for you today? I'm sure it must be important, if class hasn't even started yet."
"Well, Professor," spoke up Harry, "I was wondering whether or not you could tell me --- tell me what my ethnicity is."
A smile grew on the face of their old Headmaster. "I was wondering when you'd think of this. It took a while, didn't it?" Dumbledore asked. "But I am very sorry to say, Harry, but I do not really know. You could be African for all we know."
Harry's face gave a look of shock, and perhaps a bit of annoyance.
"However," continued Dumbledore, "I am very sure Hagrid has given you something that may tell you what you are."
Both Harry and Hermione revealed looks of curiosity. Just then, the school bell rang.
"Well then, I guess it's time for class to begin," said Dumbledore. "And time for me to get started on all the perks of being a headmaster." He smiled at them. "I hope you find out soon, Harry." And with a sweep of his robes he left the office through a door opposite from where they entered.
Harry and Hermione quickly left Dumbledore's office and headed to the dungeons for their first class, double potions with Slytherin. It didn't go too well because Professor Snape was in a much fouler mood than usual, and Draco Malfoy, Harry's rival, had kept on scribbling little doodles of a black Harry Potter and tossing them at Harry's head.
"How does he know about all this?" asked Ron scathingly. He hated Malfoy and his family to death because they had always criticized the Weasleys for being poor.
"I don't know," said Harry dully. "He finds out everything. What I want to know is what did Hagrid give me?"
Harry sat there thinking about all the Christmas gifts and birthday presents he'd received from Hagrid, but couldn't think of anything that would hold such importance. They were all either his favorite kinds of wizard candy or his homemade treacle fudge. "Well there was that once time he gave me that biting book," said Harry to himself. But he didn't think there was anything about his family in a man-eating book. "Book!" he thought to himself excitedly.
"Ron! Hermione!" he whispered. "Do you remember that book with pictures of my family that Hagrid gave me in my first year?" They both nodded their heads. "Well in the back of it was my family tree! And a little summary on where everyone came from! I don't remember where exactly, but I know they didn't all live in Britain!"
"Mr. Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for talking while I am speaking." Snape looked at Harry with a look of loathing, and then resumed to teaching.
Harry couldn't help but feel excited during the rest of the morning. At the lunch bell, he rushed out of Herbology immediately. Ron and Hermione desperately tried to keep up with him, but Harry was in such a rush he had forgotten all about them. He headed for the boys' dormitory and threw open his trunk. He rummaged through it vigorously, throwing out stuff that got into his way. At the bottom of his trunk lay the book Hagrid had given him three years ago. He flipped the pages and turned to the back of the book.
Ron and Hermione finally ran in and stopped to catch their breath.
"It's going --- to --- say you're --- pure British --- Harry," said Ron, who was now panting like a dog.
"I'm not," said Harry, with a sound of disbelief in his voice.
"What?!" asked Ron in astonishment. "Let me look at that." Ron took the book from Harry and began to read it.
"Czechoslovakian --- To jest sm??ný!" [AN: That is ridiculous!"]
"Icelandic?! Þessi er jafnvel fleiri hlægilegur!" [AN: "That is even more ridiculous!"]
"Spanish! Pozo.no me extraña usted haber tal negro cabello." [AN: "Well.no wonder you have such dark hair."]
"Ron," began Hermione exasperatedly, "does it say anywhere in there that Harry is British?"
"Oh," said Ron, "Uh yeah. Right here. See I told you Harry! You are British!"
"Well not pure British, I guess," answered Harry. "At least I know what I am now." He jumped onto his bed and gave a sigh of relief, and perhaps happiness.
"Oh wow," began Ron, "would you look at that. You're African too!!"
"WHAT?!" asked Harry, stunned.
"Just kidding."
Harry laid back onto his bed and glared at Ron. "Kuwa SIO cheshi." [AN: "That IS NOT funny."]