He Looks Like James
James Potter's son looked a lot like his father.
Remus often wondered about this, sitting behind the desk in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, looking down at the dark-haired head bent over his parchment, the small hands with the long fingers sweeping a quill messily along in a line.
You could say of most children that they had their uncle's chin, or their grandfather's ears, or even that they were a 'chip off the old block'. But Harry simply was James, right down to the round black glasses pushed up to the bridge of the nose. Their handwriting was even similar, Remus had noticed, when he'd picked up the first essay and been suddenly transported twenty years into the past when he'd engaged in essay-swapping activities before OWLs.
Many people remarked on how uncanny it was, how much Harry looked like his father, his mother's eyes his only salvation from being branded a clone. It was just one more thing that made him remarkable, made him, in some twisted way, unique. He looked almost too much like James.
Remus sometimes wondered… but no. Even Lily, adept as she was at charms, couldn't make a glamour last that long. The greatest time release on such a spell that Remus had heard of was four years, and that one hadn't even worked for longer than two months.
It would be a fine thing though, wouldn't it? If Harry really looked quite different than he outwardly appeared. It was a good way of explaining his over-the-top resemblance to James.
Remus wondered. But he didn't mention his suspicions, didn't ever, even to himself, accuse Lily of hiding something that would be so important. Never allowed himself to think about the circumstances that prompted his contemplation of the mere possibility that Harry could be something he wasn't.
God, he looked like James. Except for Lily's eyes. They looked odd in combination with James' face, James' hair. They seemed greener, seemed almost to glow without the soft contrast of Lily's red curls.
Remus tried to imagine those eyes on a different face. Any face. His own face. It was impossible. Harry, no matter how hard he strove to estrange himself from his father's legacy, would always retain the ability to shock people as he walked around a corner, to make people believe even for a second that James Potter was once more sixteen and wandering the halls of Hogwarts.
James didn't deserve death.
But there had been a time when Remus had wondered whether he deserved a son.