Harry wasn't completely sure what he was going to say once he reached the Headmaster's office. He could, after all, be jumping to conclusions, even though he didn't think that was very likely. He thought he might start out calmly, then if he was right he could go on a tangent, but if he was right…If he was right, would he even feel well enough to go on a tangent? Harry's head was spinning. He was trying to concentrate more on his confrontation with the Headmaster than with the real matter at hand, which was the fact that James Potter, his professor, was his father.
Harry simply couldn't get his head around that simple fact. It led to far too many questions that Harry didn't want to hear the answers to. Harry had gone so long with thinking that his father must be dead that the fact that he might be alive was so foreign that it seemed impossible. Harry had never really considered that his father could be alive. If he was alive, why hadn't he rescued him from the Dursleys? Why hadn't he ever questioned about him? Why had he simply left his Mother without another word? 'Because he doesn't care a wit about you,' said that nasty little voice in the back of his head. Harry didn't want to listen to that voice, he really didn't, but the fact of the matter was that James had never been there for him, and that seemed to be the most logical reason why.
Harry stormed up the spiral staircase and to the wooden door that led to the Headmaster's office after shouting the password at the statue in front. He rapped on the door.
"Please come in," said Professor Dumbledore's calm voice from inside. Harry burst open the door.
"Professor, I need to talk to you," Harry said. 'Shout is more like it,' said that nasty little voice. Professor Dumbledore didn't look the least bit surprised. It was as if enraged young teens stormed his office every evening.
"Please, have a seat. Lemon drop?" Professor Dumbledore offered. Harry shook his head, refusing both the muggle sweet and the seat.
"No, thank you. Professor," Harry said, getting to the point and deciding to be blunt, "Do you know who my Father is?" Professor Dumbledore blinked and leaned back in his chair. 'Calm Harry, stay calm; another outburst won't help your reputation with the Headmaster,' Harry thought to himself, taking deeper and deeper breaths. He knew the old man was hiding something, and his patience was being tested. After all the secrets of the previous year, and all the mistakes Dumbledore had made Harry thought Dumbledore would have learned to tell him important things, but apparently not.
"What gave you that idea, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly. That was it. Harry wasn't sure why, but that was what set him off.
"Oh gee, I don't know, could it be the fact that there's this teacher in school who has my face?" Harry yelled. Dumbledore was unfazed, but the twinkle in his eye diminished some.
"Who could you mean?"
"Who could I mean? WHO COULD I MEAN?" Harry was furious. There was no way Dumbledore was this oblivious. "What do you mean who could I mean? Professor Potter that's who I mean. He looks exactly like me, and today he caught Ginny and me in the kitchens sn—erm, getting something to eat, and he looked really ill, and then he called me Mr. Potter. Not Mr. Evans. Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore you know what I'm talking about!" Harry cried out desperately. He calmed down and looked on Professor Dumbledore with despair. "Professor, is James Potter my Father?" Dumbledore studied Harry for a moment. He sighed.
"Yes, Harry. Professor Potter is your biological Father," Professor Dumbledore said. Harry decided it would be best if he took the offered chair as he felt his body go numb. He was so numb, in fact, that all of the questions he had feared never once crossed his mind. For once in his life, Harry's mind went completely and utterly blank. Dumbledore began to speak again before the silence stretched.
"Harry, you need to understand. Your Mother and James broke up for very stupid reasons, and they regretted it ever after…James never even knew you were his son. Not until today, of course. So you must understand--," Dumbledore was saying, but Harry tuned him out after that now that the shock was over the numbness left and Harry's mind was spinning. He didn't know until the other day? This brought on a whole new wave of possibilities that Harry could explore. Perhaps James didn't hate him then. A wave of warmth washed over him at the thought that perhaps his father did care a wit about him. Perhaps he finally had a family, after all the Dursleys had never been much of one. Maybe, just maybe he could finally have a normal life.
Then Harry's heart sunk again. If he had just found out though, he might not want anything to do with Harry. No one ever said that he had wanted a son. Harry felt sick. That was probably what would happen. His father would reject him, just like the rest of his family. Why even bother getting his hopes up. Harry interrupted Dumbledore.
"Excuse me, Professor, but I'd like to go now," Harry said glumly. Dumbledore looked at him oddly for a moment, but he nodded.
"All right, Harry. You may go," Dumbledore said. Harry thanked him hastily and walked slowly to his dormitory. It was then that it hit him—no matter if Professor Potter wanted a son or not, he could not avoid Harry. In fact, they had two classes together and one private class. Harry groaned as he finally made it to his bed. This was going to be a very long year, especially if he had two teachers who hated him as much as he hated Voldemort.
Meanwhile, up in his office Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. Now he was going to have to inform James that Harry knew—he did not think that would go over well. This was going to be a very long year.