Harry wasn't sure if he was lucky or unlucky to have three defense classes on his schedule. He'd found that both of the Professors were pretty cool, so that made the classes fun. He'd also be getting a lot of extra studying for it so he could use it to defeat Voldemort when the time came; but Harry was already feeling uncomfortable in being so singled out. He was the first student to ever move up a grade in just one class, and the first ever to have three classes of the same subject. People were already beginning to look at him in the hall—though they did this often, it didn't make him any less uncomfortable, and the seventh years were especially staring at him since he had beaten their best duelist in a duel. Harry decided that this made him unlucky to have three defense classes.
On the other hand, no matter how badly he felt he knew it would help him out in the end. He supposed this all must be necessary in some form or another. Harry sighed. Regardless, it still meant extra homework. Harry sat down in the defense classroom for the third time that day (Or rather the second, seeing as sixth and seventh year defense were back to back) and took out his books.
After a few minutes, to Harry's surprise, people started pouring in, one of them being Ginny.
"Harry?" Ginny asked in bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same question," Harry replied. He had thought that this was supposed to be a period of private study with Professor Potter, not a class with the fifth years!
"This is the fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class for the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Again, what are YOU doing here? You've even been bumped up to seventh year Defense, so I highly doubt that you belong in this class," Ginny said with her eyebrows raised.
"Right, well," Harry began to say, but at that moment Professor Potter and Professor Black came into the room and Ginny had to take a seat next to Harry.
"Welcome class, to fifth year defense. Since you've all made it thus far I will assume you are all capable of keeping up with the normal class and will not need any extra, in-class help. Professor Black will be your sole teacher this year for this period as it is my duty this period to teach our talented young Harry Potter more advanced Defense studies. So, without further ado, take it away Professor Black," Professor Potter said. Ginny just looked at Harry and mouthed to him "Oh" as Professor Potter came near him.
"Are you ready, Mr. Evans?" Professor Potter asked.
"Yeah," said Harry, and he got up to leave with his new professor.
The two didn't talk the entire walk to whatever empty classroom they were headed. It was silent and awkward as they both shot quick glances at each other and then looked away quickly when they realized that the other was looking right back. Things were so…uncomfortable.
"So," said Professor Potter when they were finally nearing the classroom, "you're Harry Evans. The-Boy-Who-Lived if you don't mind my saying so."
"Actually I do mind," Harry said shortly. He had his reasons for not liking the name—a whole boatload of them—but he didn't need to explain them to his teacher.
"Oh. Right, well, that's fine. It is because of this, however, that I have to give you these lessons," Professor Potter said.
"I know that," said Harry in boredom. Why couldn't they all just walk off a cliff and leave him alone with his friends? There was a REASON he hadn't signed up for another class after he dropped Divination. They finally reached the room in even more uncomfortable silence with Harry annoyed and James—was he nervous?
"Ok, so I suppose we should start the lesson," James said.
"Yeah," Harry said, taking out his book and his wand. The lesson was very strained with both participants wishing for nothing more than to leave the room—but why? James couldn't understand why he felt so tense, after all Harry was just another student. Just another student who happened to look a little bit like him. He was just another student who happened to be Lily's son. Just another student who must be a half-blood, because there was no other explanation for—James stopped his train of thought right there. It wasn't possible, was it? James was desperately clinging to that hope. Harry just couldn't be his…his…James couldn't even think it. As he sat there, teaching this incredibly bright student, however, he couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask Dumbledore—no chickening out this time, he was a Gryffindor gosh darn it! He would summon up all his courage and strength to ask Dumbledore a seemingly simple question—and he would do it today.
James felt his stomach dropping as he went up the spiral stairs to the Headmaster's office and knocked on the old wooden door. He felt like he was thirteen again and about to get in trouble for blowing up a toilet in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom for the tenth time. Only this time Filch wasn't leading him to his doom—no, this time he was leading himself down the path to destruction.
"Come in," said the headmaster's voice from inside the office when James knocked. Slowly and timidly James cracked open the door and walked into the old office. "Ah, James, what a pleasant surprise. Have a seat. Would you like a lemon drop?" the Professor asked, holding out a bowl filled with small, yellow candies. James took the seat but politely refused the lemon drops.
"Professor, may I speak with you about something personal?" James asked nervously. Dumbledore's eyes just twinkled like always.
"Of course, my boy. You may always ask me any question—the true question is whether or not I will answer you," he replied. James nodded.
"Fair enough. Professor, I've been thinking and I've found some strikingly similarities between Harry Evans and myself. I was wondering…Professor…who exactly is--," James began, but Dumbledore finished his sentence for him.
"The boy's father? I figured you would ask me that question one day. James, I have something for you here that I've had for about fifteen years. I suppose it is about time that I revealed it to you," he said, and out of one of his drawers he pulled an old, parchment envelope. He handed the letter to him. "It was from Lily, to you. You may read it."
James looked at the letter, then Dumbledore, then back at the letter again. His memories of Lily were now often more painful than happy, and he was reluctant to relive all of that pain. Nonetheless, he had to do something when Dumbledore was staring at him like that, and so he opened the envelope, took out the letter, and read:
Dear James,
By the time you read this, I will be gone. It's an interesting concept, writing something to be read after your death. I don't know if you want to read this letter from me or not, seeing as I am a muggle born, but if you have read this far I can only hope you'll find your old self again and continue to read this letter.
I loved you, James, and it broke my heart when you left me. I couldn't deal with that pain, and so I did the only thing I knew how to do to deal with pain—I ran from it. I wanted to disappear from your life, from my friends' lives, from my own memories. Unfortunately, I discovered your past will come back to haunt you; three days after I ran away from everything I discovered I was pregnant. Of course, I wasn't pregnant with just anyone's baby, no; I was pregnant with your baby. I wasn't sure if this was a great blessing or a terrible curse, but no matter, I still ran. How could I tell you that the woman you hate was going to have your baby? I just couldn't—I was scared.
So, I had the baby, and only a year later did I discover that I couldn't run from the magical society either. Our baby and Alice and Frank's baby, Neville, were the only two possible children that a Prophecy was talking about. My baby might be the only one capable of defeating the most terrible Dark Wizard of all time. I had to go into hiding to protect him, and me, and so I am writing this to you now for fear that I will die not long after this spell goes into effect.
Regardless, it was wrong of me never to tell you about my baby, and I feel guilty about that. I hope that one day you can get past your family prejudices and get to know and love my baby, our baby. Like it or not James Potter, my baby, Harry Evans, is your son.
Love,
Lily Evans
James dropped the letter.
Harry packed up his bag, getting ready to exit from his lesson with Professor Potter. He had been glad when the Professor had rushed away at the end of the lesson, mumbling something about an urgent meeting with the headmaster he had to attend. Whatever, it gave Harry an excuse not to have to talk to him anymore. Suddenly Ginny appeared at the entrance to the room.
"Oh, hi Ginny, how'd you know I was down here?" Harry asked, looking up in surprise.
"I asked Professor Black where you were having your lesson, and he told me down here. So, how WAS your lesson?" Ginny asked. Harry sighed.
"Not well. I don't really get it, Professor Potter is really likable and all, and he seems really cool, but for some reason…I don't know, I just get a little uncomfortable around him," Harry said with a weak shrug.
"I see," Ginny said. There was a silence between them, and then Harry blurted out, though he wasn't sure why,
"Hey Ginny, would you like to take a walk outside with me?" Ginny smiled brightly.
"I'd love to," she said.
It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. How could it be true? James Potter collapsed onto his bed in his office. This wasn't happening. Oh, all the pain was flooding back. All the pain that he had caused Lily, caused him, and now so obviously caused Harry was drowning him. Memories of Lily, both sweet and sour, were wrapping him in a terrible vice and crushing him. Why did he have to be his son?
James would not have minded being the boy's father under different circumstances. If he hadn't hurt Lily so badly he would have loved to learn that Harry was his son, but how could he now, knowing the pain he had caused Lily? Dumbledore had tried to help by telling him that it was a grave misunderstanding, he made a few mistakes in the past and that was all. James knew, however, that he had made the biggest mistake of his life when he hurt Lily like he did, and now, especially now, he could never forgive himself.
"James? Are you in there?" asked Sirius as he knocked on James' door. "Why didn't you come down for dinner? What's going on?" James inwardly groaned. He couldn't explain things to Padfoot, not now and maybe not ever. Sirius was so angry when he did what he did to Lily. James vividly remembered when he found out; Sirius has yelled at him about how weak James was to give in and then he gave him a bloody nose and a black eye. James had vowed to never do anything to upset Padfoot ever, ever again. Knowing that Harry was James' son would probably upset Padfoot, and James was not in the mood for getting a bloody nose and a black eye at the moment.
"Nothing, I just wasn't hungry. I'm not…feeling well. I'll go down to get something from the house elves later," James said, turning over on his bed.
"Whatever you say, Prongs," Sirius said in confusion. James never missed a meal, not ever. When James heard Sirius' footsteps die away he got up to go to the kitchens. He might as well have something to eat before bed, even if he wasn't completely sure if he could stomach it. With that James got up and headed to the kitchen.
Harry and Ginny had a wonderful walk around the grounds. They had discussed everything from N.E.W.T.S and O.W.L.S to Ron and Hermione's obviously impending relationship. Harry felt so at ease with her, like he could tell her about anything, even the Prophecy. They had been out so long that they had unfortunately missed Dinner.
"Well, if you're getting hungry I know how to get into the kitchens," Harry said.
"I am getting a little hungry," Ginny admitted. So, the two headed down to the portrait of fruit. Harry tickled the pear and once they were inside house elves, particularly Dobby, bombarded them with food. The two laughed and enjoyed their custom dinner.
"So, Ginny, I was wondering, there's a Hogsmeade trip coming up in a couple of weeks, and I was wondering if maybe you'd go with me?" Harry said, but this time he knew what possessed him to ask Ginny—he'd had a really good time talking with her, and if Hermione and Ron went together he wanted to give them some privacy. Ginny beamed.
"I'd really loved to Harry," Ginny said. Harry grinned, leaned over and kissed her. It was at that moment that Professor Potter walked in.