Sometimes you tell yourself "I'll finish updating this story once I've adjusted to college", and then you look up and suddenly you are way past college. And your notes are gone. And you only find them almost eight years later.

Whoops.

~Multi-Faceted~

IX: Name

It troubled Harry that they had no legal bond.

He knew, of course, that with how distantly related all wizards were to each other that there was likely some tie between them—but it wasn't tangible, or on record somewhere. It wasn't anything like the blood he (reluctantly) shared with the Dursleys, or the connection he shared with James and Lily Potter which transcended their deaths. It wasn't like his short-lived bond with Sirius, or the tentative friendship he shared with Remus when the man emerged from his periods of self-isolation and remembered Harry was still alive. All of those were lost to Harry, ephemeral, or never gained in the first place, while Dumbledore remained close by: patient, kind, available, enduring.

He was closer to Dumbledore than he was to any other adult in his life, yet they had nothing to show for it.

But when the headmaster solicitously asked "What is wrong?" one evening after one of their lessons, Harry only shook his head and mumbled, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Dumbledore didn't look like he believed Harry in the slightest—but he let it go, giving his pupil a gentle farewell pat on the shoulder and a smile which warmed his insides.

It's stupid, he told himself time and again, when the nagging thoughts would come back. A homicidal wizard off his nut is trying to kill me and I'm more concerned with stuff like—like blood bonds, or adoption. I don't have time to be thinking about this! And if I don't have time, Dumbledore has even less time than me.

That was part of the problem, though. When Harry looked at Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, high-ranking court member and guiding lighthouse of Wizarding Britain, all the man's titles and responsibilities rushed to the forefront—only to be brushed away just as quickly when Dumbledore turned twinkling eyes in his direction, invited him by his office for tea and conversation, or rested one cool, dry hand in his hair and gently ruffled it. With everyone else, Dumbledore was friendly and helpful but mostly unapproachable for personal matters; with Harry, Dumbledore was dependable and trustworthy, always going the extra mile to accommodate his fears and needs.

Harry had never mistaken any man for his father, not even Sirius... but several times with Dumbledore, he came closer than he ever had. And that was why his lack of any proper tie to the man quietly frustrated him.

On the other hand... what kind of solution could either of them craft? He had once tried to imagine Dumbledore adopting him, adding him to some multi-colored family tree near his goat-admiring brother, and found the thought unraveling the first time he sounded out Harry James Potter-Dumbledore in his head. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore-Potter didn't sound too natural, either. And Dumbledore might like him all right, but there was a lot of rope between liking someone and considering them as good as family. Who was to say that he even wanted to give Harry a bit of his name?

At least the pageantry of both options made him snigger a little.

Finally though, his periods of deep distraction and melancholy were so persistent that Dumbledore drew him aside one day and bullied him into a chair in an empty office during his free period.

"Professor—?"

"Forgive me, but I feel you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough," the headmaster interrupted, fixing Harry with his typical piercing gaze. "Your professors are concerned and your friends are anxious. I myself am troubled. What is tormenting you, Harry?"

"It's nothing important, sir, honestly."

"Perhaps you might let me be the judge of that?"

Harry huffed, passing one hand roughly through his hair. "It's got nothing to do with Voldemort!" he insisted. The other man's stare didn't waver, and his cheeks flushed the longer it held him in place.

Dumbledore swept over to the closest chair and eased into it. His voice was calmer. "Do you think I am less troubled now, knowing your obvious unhappiness is not tied to Voldemort?"

He gaped at the headmaster, then ducked his head shyly as the subtext sunk in. His face felt hotter than ever.

"Have your relatives been troubling you?"

"No! I mean—er, not really, not directly."

"Not 'directly'?"

Harry kept his eyes on his shoes. "Unless 'being troubled that I'm only related to them' counts as directly... it's not really about them either."

Dumbledore hummed contemplatively. "I am well aware that your relatives gifted you a poor understanding of the meaning of family, and I'm proud to see that you have used their example to craft a superior family of your own—"

Harry cut him off this time. "But I haven't, have I? The Dursleys have nothing to do with it. I don't have anyone. Everyone I'm related to on paper either hates me or ends up dead. And everyone else I care about, there's nothing—there's no tie—"

Dumbledore took his closest hand, and Harry gasped, still memorizing the patterns on the floor. His throat felt hot and tight; he felt hot all over, really. The headmaster's hand was cool and soothing in comparison as it held his.

"Take deep breaths," he murmured soothingly. "Slow, deep breaths."

Harry obeyed. Dumbledore's thumb traced gentle circles on his hand while he collected himself, and braced for the questions he knew would come.

"Better now?"

"Y-Yeah."

The old man studied him anew, fitting pieces into place. "There is... much I would like to ask you at another time, but I think I should clarify some important points here and now. The first being that family is not solely comprised of your blood relations, or the people your parents might choose for you. It is just as often created by strong connections to friends and other loved ones, yes? You need only think of Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to know it is so."

He wanted to argue, but there was no argument possible—there was no one he felt closer to than Ron and Hermione, no one else he would dare to call his brother and sister.

Dumbledore said softly, "I would be remiss if I didn't also remind you that you, personally, have been claimed by scores of others. I can safely say that the Weasleys consider you one of them, and Remus Lupin would happily claim you as his own kin regardless of the disappointing limitations of our world's laws."

"But he hasn't," Harry blurted. "He hasn't ever done, and you haven't either, and—"

Oh.

Shite! he realized, as he noticed Dumbledore's startled expression and ran what he'd just said back through his head. I didn't mean to say that out loud...

"Harry...? Look at me."

He shook his head, looking back down at the dust between his feet. You bloody idiot. Why would you say that to him? Who are you to presume?

A low sigh emerged from above his hair, ruffling the top. The next thing Harry knew, Dumbledore had grasped his chin and carefully lifted it so they might look at one another properly. He tried his best not to cringe at the kind expression he found on his mentor's face, one he didn't think he deserved.

"Remus cares deeply for you," Dumbledore said, "despite what his actions, or lack thereof, might suggest. But I will leave him to speak in his own defense, as I believe you indicated dissatisfaction with my actions as well."

"That's not—what I meant." Harry fumbled. "You've always been kind to me, and supportive. Remus too. But I've trusted you more than anyone else. And Sirius' death made me realize: if—if something happened to you or me today, it'd be like we were never close. We don't have the same name, we don't live together because I'm stuck with my aunt and uncle, we can't even take a bloody walk together on the grounds without people like Rita Skeeter twisting it like they twist everything else about me—"

Dumbledore cut him off again with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

"You should not put too much stock in the things others say or think about the two of us." In contrast to Harry's wavering voice, his remained low and steady. "But I do apologize... in regards to our relationship, as I have mentioned before, there are things I intentionally did not clarify to the wider world in the interest of diverting Voldemort's attention from it. Unfortunately, with the upbringing I chose for you, you naturally would be less equipped to comprehend what remained unsaid and unwritten."

"I don't understand."

"I know," Dumbledore said gently. He let go of Harry's chin without elaborating. "Allow me to speak plainly: though there may be no measurable blood between us, no shared surname or dusty old family tree, we do share a bond indistinguishable from the one the Weasleys or Grangers share with one another. I do love you, Harry, just as much as Remus does. As far as I am concerned, you are mine in all the ways that matter."

Harry's mouth worked for a few seconds without anything coming out; his face didn't flush, but he felt that same warmth from earlier spread and settle in his chest. What do I say...? he wondered frantically. How in the world do I respond?

Dumbledore had paused to let him speak, but took the initiative when Harry couldn't find words. "I know that telling you I care for you does little to address what has troubled you—and I don't wish to cause you more distress." His eyes reflected back mingled concern and affection. "Perhaps you'd find action preferable to words. Would you like for me to file paperwork to adopt you, Harry?"

"I—!" If he thought he was having trouble getting words out before, now it felt like he'd been called up to give a speech for an award he had no memory of winning. Harry had considered Dumbledore adopting him a joke, a fanciful dream; what did it mean that the headmaster was willing to indulge him? "Professor, I—I'm flattered, really I am, a-and there's nothing more I'd want than to be part of a family—a real family, on paper and everything—but—you don't have to do something like that just because of me. I've just been distracted, and..."

"And your distraction is no less meaningful or painful than anyone else's," the headmaster soothed, and then pressed his point. "If you wish for me to do this, you need only say the word. If you do not, you are just as free to say so. My only comment would be thus: the name Potter already carries quite a proud history, and promises to continue doing so for as long as you live. I would not have you subsume the surname Lily and James gifted you in favor of one as... unfortunately whimsical... as mine."

As always, Dumbledore's uncanny insight into his thoughts and feelings made Harry completely relax—and his brief bout of lighthearted self-deprecation made Harry smile for the first time. "...thank you, sir."

Dumbledore hummed in acknowledgement as he got to his feet. "Take some time to think on it, Harry. The offer stands. There is no rush, and I will not change my mind." He put one careful hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently before leaving the boy to his thoughts.

An easy offer. A legal bond, simple as that.

Free period ended without any homework being done or rest being had, but Harry felt lighter and refreshed all the same.