A/N: Chapter updated on December 5, 2017.

Unsung Hero,

I hope you're doing well.

It feels as if we haven't spoken in ages, which I suppose is true. I'd like to apologize for that. I know you've never been one to make demands, but it still feels like I've neglected you for longer than I should've. I hope you understand that my lack of communication has little to do with the state of our friendship, and everything to do with how hectic life has become as of late. I would love to share a pint at the end of the day, but spare time is a commodity that I'm afraid I no longer have.

To be honest, I'd be more than a trifle miffed if a so-called friend dropped out of my life without warning. I would understand if you are a little resentful over my absence. I feel like I should mention that I'm aware of what a shoddy support system I've been through the years. Apologizing for my mistakes is the least I can do, considering what I'm about to ask.

That's not much of a surprise, is it? I finally reach out and it's only to ask for a favor. Bloody unfair, I know. I wish I didn't have to drag you along for this, but I'm in desperate need of help. I hope you are far more forgiving than I've been, and that our friendship isn't just another bridge I've managed to burn in this lifetime.

Before I go into details, I need you to understand that the contents of this letter were written for your eyes only. The things I'm about to discuss with you are of a delicate nature, and I need you to keep this information to yourself. You might feel tempted to share the situation with your wife, but I rather you didn't. I'm sorry for any discomfort this might cause you. I know how wretched it feels to have to lie to the woman you love, but things will be less stressful if only one of you is involved, trust me.

I've been staring at this parchment for hours now, trying to figure out how to explain the situation in a way that won't compromise anyone. I'm sorry about the pseudonyms and the vagueness that will shortly follow, but I don't want to risk exposing anything. I hope you can still make sense of what I'm about to jot down. Anyways, the candle on my desk is burning low, and I'm not sure how long I have before the rest of the household stirs. Better get to it, then.

It's an odd request, but I need you to close your eyes and think about our fifth year. Do you remember our band of misfits? Do you remember the names hastily written on a parchment in the middle of that dingy pub? I know it might be a jumbled mess after all these years, but I hope you can still recall those names and attach faces to them accordingly. It must seem like the strangest thing in the world to you right now, but it's important.

Things are about to get a bit more complicated now. I need you to pluck a face out from the crowd. Can you picture the person who would sometimes stay behind to help me tidy up after practice? You were more interested in your burgeoning plant collection than paying attention to my comings and goings, but maybe you spotted me ogling in their direction at some point. My infatuation was horribly transparent. It's embarrassing, but I hope you can use this clue to your advantage and remember who it is I'm talking about. It's crucial that you remember her.

Friend, this will be my final warning. Unless you want to be part of something potentially scandalous, I urge you to stop reading now. Get rid of the letter. Jam it in a fireplace or feed it to the giant squid- I don't care. Just make sure that it is utterly destroyed. There needs to be no trace of the letter left if you want to have no part in this, because it doesn't get any better from here on out.

This might come as a surprise, but I know that I was a bit of an arse during my time at Hogwarts. Our fifth year was a particularly difficult one for me. I really can't excuse my behavior. I dealt with my frustrations by swallowing them until I felt myself choking, and then allowed them to escape in ugly ways. I became as toxic as the people who had grudgingly raised me.

My anger had no outlet. I couldn't change the past, I couldn't bring back the dead, and I couldn't even speak of what had happened at the end of the previous school year without seeing sneers out the corners of my eyes. It often felt like the world was against me. And I decided to take my anger out on my friends. I know it was stupid of me. You guys had nothing to do with the trainwreck my life had become. I was impulsively thoughtless in my youth.

That same thoughtlessness is to blame for my current situation.

I somehow managed to find a small source of happiness, and with someone who I had always considered wildly beyond my reach. My abysmal existence was suddenly less daunting. I didn't feel as alone anymore. There were some initial hiccups that led to some very public displays of ineptitude on both sides, but things began to smooth out after a bit. It was quite lovely. Probably one of the nicest things that I had ever experienced. And just when I thought things couldn't get any better, they did.

I don't remember what my thought process was at the time. I'm not sure there was much thinking involved, to be honest. Not with the head that mattered, anyways. It's one of those things you don't question while it's happening because you're too distracted to think about the consequences. I wish I had, though. I wish I could shake my younger self- just enough to help my addled brains back into place. But I can't very well do that now, can I? Nothing can change what I did, or the embarrassment I feel as I'm writing this.

The past is set in stone, but my future is looking a tad dicey.

You see, I received a letter this last Friday. This isn't unusual, as most people have letters delivered to them during the week, but I wouldn't be penning this letter if it hadn't been something out of the ordinary. By sheer dumb luck or blessings from some benign entity, I had decided to retrieve the letter myself instead of sending one of the kids out to fetch it. I'm glad I did, because I managed to get my hands on something strange.

The letter that now constantly accompanies me is an unquestionably odd find. It has no address scribbled at its front, no tell-tale family crest pressed into the wax at its back. I missed its delivery, so I didn't even catch a glimpse of the creature that left it by my doorstep. I knew absolutely nothing about the identity of the sender or the letter's contents, and it was the most fascinating thing that had happened to me in, well, I can't remember how long.

I was almost embarrassingly excited about the blasted thing. Finding out what mysteries the letter contained was certainly more appealing to me than idly waiting for my brothers-in-law to arrive at their parent's house. I decided to tuck it inside my pocket and discreetly read it while I waited outside at the picnic table. The wife hates it when I bring work home, you see. I knew she'd be furious if she caught me perusing something during a family event. I regret not listening to her this time around.

I had to leave the event.

Because I disappeared without a word, my wife has decided to ban me from the bedroom until I'm ready to discuss whatever has been eating at me since that day. I'm not ready to talk about anything. I've barely come to terms with it myself. I wish I'd left the damned letter at home. I wish I hadn't read it when I did. I should've enjoyed my family and extra day off work instead of ruining it because I was bored. I'm masochistic like that, I suppose. I mean, why should I enjoy my free time with the people I love when I can just piss them off instead, right? Well, I did just that.

I read the letter and felt my blood run cold in my veins.

This thing accuses me of something that is entirely possible, and entirely my fault. I can't sleep. I can barely keep food down. I'm constantly fighting dizzy spells and headaches. I nearly botched an important mission the other day, as well. This is affecting every aspect of my life, and I don't think I can't function like this for much longer. I don't know how to proceed, so I decided to swallow my pride and ask for help.

The person I asked you to remember earlier, can you recall her again? Merlin knows I can. She's all I've thought about for the past week. Memories of her haunt me when I least expect it. It's hard to look at my wife kids and not see flashes of what could've been. But don't worry. I'm not experiencing an early midlife crisis. You don't have to be concerned about how devoted I am to my family. I'm just a little distressed about the past.

Was fifteen years old and the world revolved around me. At least that's what it often felt like. I was an unlikely hero, champion of champions and an unwilling participant in someone else's twisted story. I knew I would never be normal, that I would grow up envying how mundane my friend's lives seemed to be. But, for a short time, that changed. I wasn't just fifteen and burned with the task of keeping the Wizarding World upright. I was fifteen, and I had the pleasure of being smitten with someone who returned my affections. I got to experience something so normal that it was almost too extraordinary for me.

I was offered the opportunity to play the part of knight in shining armor, and I eagerly stepped up to the role without realizing that it was too complicated for me. I failed wretchedly at it. It would be comical if it wasn't all so terrible. It turns out that my damsel in distress needed more than awkwardly pats in the back during bad days and sloppy snog sessions on her good ones. What did I know about that, though?

Now I'm wondering if I left her with more than just bitter memories and low expectations for love.

Our brief moments of happiness might've transmuted into a lifelong commitment that I was not made aware of. I might've accidentally brought someone into the world before I even knew my proper place in it. There might be someone out there who shares my looks but not my last name. And this child, who isn't to blame for what happened between his parents or for being brought into the world under such complicated circumstances, now makes claims of abandonment. And his underlying frustration is so palpable, so eerily familiar to me…

I can't guarantee the letter's legitimacy. This might just be a mix up. Making me squirm by jabbing at parts of my past that I've been pushing aside for years might be some bastard's idea of fun. Maybe someone found out about what I did and is trying to blackmail me for riches that I genuinely don't possess. I don't care either way. The thought has been placed in my head. I need to know if there's any truth to what's been said, and I need your help to do it.

What I'm asking you to do is not particularly legal. It might not involve slaying serpents with legendary swords, but the situation is just as precarious. I need to gain access to the school records somehow. I need you to go through the student list and find if anyone there shares my looks or that of the girl I was sweet on. I hope you don't need me to name names to do it.

I know this is all a bit mad, and I wouldn't blame you if you decided to not step into this mess, but I have no plans of stopping this quest until I find the truth. If I truly have a child out there, I can't just sit here and pretend it doesn't exist. I've been that kid, the one wondering and waiting for the parent that will never arrive, and I won't allow him carry that hurt for the rest of his life. Maybe the world wouldn't know or care about a by-blow, but I would.

I will deal with the consequences of my actions. I will take responsibility for the pain that I knowingly and unknowingly inflicted. I just need him to know that I would've gladfully torn myself new scars for a chance at being his father. I didn't know. I would've never abandoned him. I need him to understand that.

I will walk to the castle, barge through the doors and demand the student list from McGonagall herself if I must. I really hope it won't come to that, though. Please save me the trouble of having to thrust him and his mother into the spotlight by doing something drastic. The media is cruel and rarely forgiving, and I'm just trying to do right by them.

Sincerely,

The Dumbest Lion in the Den

A/N: The rest of the story is still being overhauled. It isn't abandoned, I promise. :p