Chapter 2 – Seren
Even after several hours, Seren was shaking whenever his father or their conversation came to his mind.
How dare he…? How could he…?
The gall of his father! The way he had explained in a serious, but somehow sappy tone about "giving him a normal childhood"! Normal childhood? Ridiculous.
They had just forgotten to tell him something that everybody around them knew: the Longbottoms, the Weasleys and even the Woods… He trembled in anger as he remembered the victorious, primitive face of Lenny Wood when he and his Gryffindor lackeys had ganged up on him in front of the whole school, after the end-of-year feast. Headmistress McGonagall had just publicly praised him for his outstanding results and announced that Ravenclaw had been awarded the House Cup mainly because of him.
"And tell me, you whiny little Siren, why did you keep it secret that you are a bastard child? Somebody illegitimate, taken from the rubbish bin by the Potters out of sheer pity?"
Time had seemed to stop. He couldn't move or think - he had stared at the oh-so-hated face shaking his head while his mouth had shaped the silent words:
"You are lying," he had said, but in the meantime, several strange and incomprehensible elements of his life had begun to file into place.
The Hat's comment, "You could be great there", the remarkable way his parents had looked at each other and the too-fast explanation when he had once asked from which branch of the family he had inherited his black eyes… not to mention the complete lack of that fearless bravery which was quite characteristic of both his parents and his brother.
"You are lying," he said audibly, but much less surely. But Lenny had just laughed.
"My Dad told me so. And he was told by a Ministry official who saw the documents. You are a bastard child, little Siren, I could tell from the moment I first got a look at your nasty face…"
The next minute they were standing face-to-face, their wands pointed at each other, but Seren had known that he had no chance. Lenny had had his faithful pawns with him, and Seren had been alone.
Soon he'd found himself on the ground, covered with mud and belching large slugs, his wand somewhere out of his reach. But Denis had finally arrived, his intrusion confounding Lenny's group. His friend had taken him to the prefects' bathroom, where they would be left alone.
"He's lying. Don't mind him!" Denis said.
"And what if he isn't?"
"Mum and Dad would know about it. Or more likely, everybody would know about it."
The answer couldn't calm him down. He was sure: he had seen on Lenny's face that he had said the truth.
Well, to tell the truth, he hadn't been that sure. But as he had passed seventeen and his parents hadn't brought the topic up, he had decided to act.
"Mum, Dad, is it true that I'm not your child?" he had asked less than two hours ago.
His father had been having a break (he had left his study for ten minutes' long pause), and had been drinking his usual tea while walking up and down. At Seren's words the cup had jerked in his hand and the milky liquid had splashed on the ground. He had seen no reaction from his mother: she had been reading, her head lowered, and she hadn't looked up as she always did when someone spoke to her.
Barrys had been halfway to the door: he had been hurrying to a date with his newest girlfriend. His reaction had perhaps been the most sudden: he had first frozen on the spot, then had turned on his heel and almost shouted:
"What?"
"You heard me. I asked if it was true that I'm not a Potter. Just a…" He hadn't wanted to say the word 'bastard'. It would make him agree with Wood. "Just an adopted child."
"What?" Barrys had repeated like a bad actor who had forgotten the next line.
"Who told you this?" his Dad had asked while with a small flick of his wrist, he had removed the milky liquid from the carpet.
"That's not important. I asked…"
"I heard what you asked. And I asked who told you," his Dad had replied coldly. He had rarely been this cold; in fact, Seren could recall only one occasion, when he had been seven and he and Barrys had had a fight over their Dad's broom, which they had stolen from his study. Neither of them had wanted to let the other go first. But then, at least, he had had Barrys to share the paternal fury.
Why should he fear any fury, though? His question had been legitimate, hadn't it?
"Lenny Wood," he had answered nevertheless, and had shot a glare at his father. He had suspected Artimency behind his quick answer. "But it is true, isn't it?"
"Seren," his Mum had said, but his Dad had touched her shoulder to stop her.
"No. It was my idea, I have to answer him."
His Mum had nodded, but now that she had lifted up her face, he could see the tension radiating from it. She had glanced at her husband and Seren worriedly.
His Dad had straightened himself and had taken a deep breath.
"Your mother wanted to tell you sooner. I disagreed. I disagreed, because this knowledge would bring nothing but pain to you, and on the other hand, you aren't any less my son than Barrys."
"You had no right to keep it secret!" Seren cried frantically. The fact that his father had misled him in such an important matter had almost crushed his world. "It's my life! You had no right!"
"It wouldn't have been any better if you knew about it, believe me. At least it didn't spoil your childhood."
"Why didn't you let me decide it?"
"We were the responsible adults. Perhaps we made the wrong decision, I don't know…"
"But I do! Why… why should I learn of it this way, in front of others, in such a humiliating way, that I'm not a real Potter, just a… just a…"
"But you are a real Potter. You are our son, Seren."
"No, I'm not! I'm not your son!"
"You were less than one month old when we took you in. You are our son in everything but blood."
"You lied to me!"
"Come on, Seren! You know that not everything can be told to a child…" There had been no disdain in his Dad's voice, just serenity, but it had enraged him even more.
"But you had no right! Mostly you!" he had pointed a finger to his father. "You told me about your aunt and uncle how they had lied about your parents! And now it comes out that you aren't any better than them!"
"Seren…!"
"Yes, you are no better! I had the right to know about my parents! What happened to them? Where are they? Are they dead? Were they magical? Muggle? Half-blood?
"Seren…"
"I know my name, thank you!"
"Seren, we didn't know your parents," his Mum had said quietly.
Seren's hand had dropped.
"N-no?"
"No. We brought you from a Muggle hospital."
"Muggle hospital?"
"You had been left there. Nobody knows who your parents are," his Dad had added.
"But then… how did you find me?"
"The Headmistress told us that you were in the Hogwarts Book."
"But you should know my parents' names, shouldn't you? Or at least my original name…"
"There was no name," his Dad said softly. "Only the date and the place."
Seren had stopped for a moment.
There was no name. Only the date and the place.
You had been left there.
Nobody knows who your parents are.
The words had cut him like a sharp knife. But he had seen something on his mother's face: something small, a passing expression, a shadow, when she had looked at his father.
A small, logical part of his mind had kept telling him that his parents had been right not to inform him sooner: even now, at seventeen, it had been very hard to hear that his biological parents had rejected him, had thrown him away like an object not needed, a something. It had been the opposite of his Dad's case with the Dursleys: they had never loved him, but his parents had done.
But he had been angry and he had needed a target to vent at. He couldn't be mad at his real parents, couldn't shout at the never-seen people, just at these not real parents who had always kept it secret so that he had had to learn it during a school fight from that git Wood. 'Bastard, bastard.'
"You had no right! You should have told me!" he had cried again at the two people who had brought him up and now were standing in front of him embarrassed and guilty, as if in front of a judge. "How can I believe you after this? If you lied to me in this, you could have lied in other things too! What are you still holding back? What shall I learn from others laughing at me?"
While he had been shouting, his father's face had become redder and redder and that logical part of his mind had even tried to stop him, but it had already been too late.
"You must know that we have never lied to you, Seren," his Dad said with forced calm. "The fact that we didn't talk about it…"
"You were afraid that I would go and find them! Or you lied and you KNOW who they are and were afraid that I would find out that they are much better than you!"
His Mum's eyes had grown wide and his Dad had asked with disbelief:
"Better?" And a little louder: "Better?"
"Yes, better!" he had shouted, the last bits of rational thought disappearing.
"How dare you…?" his father asked menacingly.
"How dare you?"
"APOLOGISE! NOW!"
"Never!"
"I will not tell you again!"
"Never!" He had waved his wand towards his packed trunk. "Accio!" Then had looked at his parents, his thoughts full with fury. "You lied to me! You lied to me all this time! I hate you all!"
And before they could utter a word, he had marched out of the door and slammed it behind himself.
He had been hoping that somebody might follow after him and he could shout a little longer, but nobody had come.
From the house he had Apparated to London, where he had sat in James Park, feeding the cheeky beggar squirrels hazelnuts and trying to get a grip on his feelings and thoughts.
In vain.
When he had arrived at home, before the argument, he had been hoping his parents would dismiss Lenny's accusations and tell him he had been theirs, and everything would be the same it had been before. And even if he had been counting on something dreadful, it hadn't been as bad as to know for real that his biological parents hadn't loved him and strangers had brought him up out of pity.
To know that Lenny had been right all the time.
To know that his parents had lied to him even though there had been numerous occasions to tell him: for example when he and his Dad had talked about the Hat. But his Dad, instead of being sincere, had lied to him, had told him such a lie no man in their right mind would have believed it. Yet he had, because he had wanted to. He had wanted to believe that the Hat had intended to put Harry Potter in Slytherin! Ridiculous! In the last few days, when he had been thinking about these matters, this had been the most offensive memory – and that expression on his mother's face had meant something similar. There hadn't been anything in his father's face or mind, but he had always been a superb Occlumens. His mother, however, had been an honest person whom Seren had never caught lying.
Could it all mean that they had really lied?
He tiredly buried his face in his palms.
It was very late when he knocked on Fred's door. It opened before him by itself and he heard a yell from upstairs:
"I'm coming!"
For a moment he felt uncomfortable. Perhaps Fred had already gone to bed, or it was too late for any kind of call, or perhaps he had a visitor…
But Fred was alone, dressed, holding a book in his hand. He was surprised to see Seren in the doorway with his trunk.
"Seren?" he asked uncertainly, but waving him in. "Come in!"
Leaving the trunk at the bottom of the stairs he followed Fred obediently to the kitchen. The man tossed the small volume on top of a pile of books on a shelf.
"Something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?"
"Tea," Seren shrugged.
Neither of them spoke until they had the two simmering cups before them.
"Spill," Fred said and lifted the cup to his mouth.
"Uncle Fred, did you know that I'm not Mum and Dad's biological son?"
If his question surprised the man, he didn't show it. Slowly, he lowered the cup to the table and took a long look at the boy.
"You aren't…?" he asked hesitantly.
"No, I'm not," Seren said, and under the scrutinising look he lowered his head and muttered, "They admitted it. So you didn't know about it."
Fred took a deep breath.
"I think that's not entirely true."
"Excuse me?" Seren looked up surprised.
"I wouldn't say I knew about it, but it isn't true I didn't know about it either."
Seren could feel his temper rising.
"That's nonsense," he growled.
"No, it is not. I remember George and Ginny once mentioned that the Potters had adopted somebody. But by that time I knew both you and Barrys and it was somehow… obvious that it had to be about somebody else."
"That's stupid!" Seren snapped. "And I don't even look like them!"
"That means nothing," Fred shrugged. "There are many people who are nothing like their parents and still they are their biological children. Then again, I had my own problems at that time."
"I don't believe you," Seren stood up angrily. "If somebody tells me something like that, I don't think I would not hear, not understand it!"
"My wife died then, Seren. You were about three years old."
He had never seen Fred so serious. The tone and the topic quieted him. He sat back. Fred went on.
"I wasn't in the British Isles for a couple of years, and after I returned, George and Ginny never mentioned it again. Perhaps your father asked them, or they had been only guessing at first, I don't know. But people don't know about it, that's for sure."
"How? Dad has always been at the centre of attention! Newspapers know everything, everything about him, about us!"
"Seren, your father returned to the Wizarding World about the time you were born."
"What?" he asked, astonished.
"After school Harry was admitted to Auror training, but he didn't actually begin it. He disappeared together with your Mum. Many thought that they would never come back. He scarcely sent any owls, so that we learned about their marriage after the fact, and later about Barrys. You were something like… four-five months old when the news came that they had bought a house in Hogsmeade. We were genuinely surprised, mostly when it came out that they would move next to Ginny's house. And your father somehow joined the Auror training…"
Seren didn't know what to say. He didn't know that his father had lived in the Muggle world for years. Of course, his grandparents had mentioned that his parents had lived with them for a while before their marriage, but he had always thought it had been only a couple of days or weeks…
Something else came to his mind.
"Dad said that McGonagall informed them about my birth."
"Perhaps she sent an owl."
"Why would she do that?"
"It could be your origin. Who are your parents?"
"They told me they didn't know, that there was no name for me in the Hogwarts Book either."
Even Fred looked shocked.
"And McGonagall informed them… interesting…"
They sat in thought for a while.
"I think…" Seren said uncertainly, "I think they know something about my origin. Only they don't want to tell me."
"Why would they do that?"
"I don't know. But there's something, I know. I can feel it."
He sensed Fred's eyes on him again.
"Look at me, Seren."
He lifted his head. Fred studied him for a long time: his hair, his eyes, his nose. Seren couldn't even imagine what he could look for such a long time. Fred's face darkened slowly.
"Can you just… scowl at me?"
"Scowl?"
"Yes. And frown."
Seren saw no point in this, but still he did it. Worry joined the dark expression on Fred's features, and he waved his wand in front of Seren's face. The next moment his short hair had grown to his shoulders, even in front of his eyes. He groaned angrily and lifted his hands to flatten it back (he hated long hair), but Fred stopped him.
"No. Just lift up your head."
He did so. The locks were curtaining his face, and when Fred waved again, they became strangely heavy.
He cried in disgust:
"Fred! Turn it back!"
But Fred stared at him, his face thunderstruck.
"Bloody hell…" he whispered.
"What is it?" he asked heatedly while he tried to regain his sight from behind the greasy locks.
Fred sat back in his seat.
"I think I know who your father is," he said very, very softly.
Seren didn't even dare to take a breath.
"My father?"
"Your biological father." He waved his wand once more and the greasy hair disappeared. "But I don't know what to say. Harry must have had his reasons not to tell you…"
"He had no right! And you don't either!"
Fred scratched his neck, aggravated.
"And perhaps I have it wrong."
"Fred!"
"Look, Seren. If I'm right, then… Harry and he hated each other. Perhaps Harry doesn't know. Perhaps…" he sighed.
"Fred, don't do this to me! Not you! And I don't care who my father hated! He lied to me!"
"If this is true…"
"TELL ME!"
Fred capitulated.
"You are like one of my old teachers from Hogwarts. His name was Severus Snape. I don't know if Harry told you about him…"
"He did," Seren said, and felt a large stone forming in his stomach.
Snape! The Head of Slytherin!
Now he could understand the Hat very well!
"And what did he say about him?"
"That he was the Potions teacher," he said with difficulty. "And the Head of Slytherin."
"Did he talk about the war and Snape's role in it?"
"He only told me Snape had taught him Occlumency…"
He could see that Fred was having an internal dilemma. Finally he said slowly, articulately:
"Seren. Perhaps I'm wrong and Snape is not your father at all. But… it's just the same… well, many people know about it anyway… Snape, in the first war – not in Harry's war, but the previous one – he was Voldemort's ally."
Seren jumped to his feet, but Fred halted him.
"But you have to know that he had changed sides before the end of the first war, and spied for Dumbledore even through the second one."
Seren could only stutter.
"My fa-father wa-was a Death… a Death Eater?"
"He was that before, Seren. If he was your father at all. But he changed sides by himself. I don't know anybody else who was so… brave. He was… a hero of a sort."
"And Dad, I mean my foster father…" he corrected himself, "they hated each other."
Could that be the reason? Snape had died and Harry Potter had stolen his son? But why? Had he wanted revenge? But why this way?
He was completely clueless.
But as for now, he was sure that his foster father had known about it. He could see it in the way his mother looked at his father. And neither of them had denied it when he had accused them of knowing his parents' identity.
The anger that had been looking for a real object, until now, finally targeted his foster parents. They had deceived him. They had stolen his father, the memory of his father from him.
But he would not leave it at that!