Chapter 10: The Stag and the Fawn

When he heard the rustling of the dry grass of the Quidditch pitch, James Potter raised his head and opened his eyes. He had been sitting there ever since he had brought his wife back to the room Dumbledore had offered them for the next days until Lily and little Harry felt up to going back home. As a matter of fact, it was her doing that he was about to meet again with the young man that claimed to be his son. His eyes landed on the black-haired young man walking up to him and he stood up with a stoic expression on his face.

As soon as Harry's gaze landed on his father, he started to ask himself, what exactly he was doing here. He suddenly highly doubted that James just wanted to talk to him. But what should he do if his father decided that everything that had been said the night before had been a lie? What should he do if his father decided to attack him? Should he fight back? Unconsciously Harry checked the holster around his right forearm, which held his wand (A nice present from Ron to his birthday before he had started the Auror training – Harry only had to will the wand into his hand and the holster would let it slip into his palm.) He had no idea how he was in duelling – no one had ever told him. He had found out things about his parents' life, about their characters, but nothing about their fighting skills. Harry only knew that Voldemort had killed them without much trouble, so that had to mean something, had it not? He himself was at least able to fight Voldemort and still lived. Did that mean that he was already a better wizard than his father was?

Harry shook his head. This did not matter right now. He did not want to fight his father. He wanted to prove that he was really his son, that he had not lied! And there was no backing out now. Right now, Harry would not be too unhappy if he had a fag to calm his already nearly bursting nerves.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Harry asked when he stopped in front of James. He noted that he and his father were of the same height and about the same build. Once again Harry had to admit that the others were right, when they said that he looked much like his father. Something he had only seen in pictures before he could now see in person. He instinctively ran a hand through his long hair, causing a few strands to fall out of the tie that held it together, when he noticed the unruly black mob on his father's head. They had the same nose and almost the same cheekbones, though Harry's were a bit more accentuated.

But not only Harry was comparing himself with his father. James did too and because of this, he did not answer immediately. He was too amazed by the obvious resemblance between them that Arthur had already pointed out to him after the surprising revelation the night before. It was almost like looking into a mirror, only that the mirror showed another version of him, a version that had seen too much and been through too much.

"I did," he answered at length. "I wanted to ask you, if what you said yesterday is the truth or just a story made up to earn Dumbledore's trust."

Deep in his stomach, Harry felt slightly self-conscious under his father's scrutinizing gaze, but neither his posture nor his voice betrayed it. "It's the truth. Besides, Dumbledore already trusted me before he even knew who I was. In the end it was something…" Harry hesitated. Did his parents already know of the prophecy or did they not? If not, he did not want to reveal it. "Something else that gained his complete trust. Actually, it was my identity that convinced Dumbledore fully."

"Can you prove it? As I already said last night, I need some proofs before I can believe you…"

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked uneasily. He had no idea how to convince his father.

James shrugged. "Tell me things that only my son would know, things that only Lily or I could have told you…"

I can't remember a thing you told me, Harry thought, normal'>because I was only one year old, when you died.

He was quickly growing desperate, but still did not show it. Instead it looked like he was just thinking hard of something that might be enough to prove to his father that he was truly his son from the future. Again the first thing he thought of was the prophecy, but since he still did not know if Dumbledore had already informed his parents about it, he remained quiet.

"You and mom, you didn't get along in school and only got together at the end of your sixth year." Harry was glad that Remus had told him about this, though it did not seem to be enough for James, so he searched his mind again for a memory he might be able to use. "Mom does have one sister. Her name's Petunia and she's married to one Vernon Dursley. Together they have one son, Dudley. They live in Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey. You, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew became illegal Animagi to keep Remus Lupin company during the full moon nights. Your nicknames were Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail. The four of you were called the Marauders and you've created a map – the Marauders Map. It shows the Hogwarts grounds along with every single person and its whereabouts. You absolutely despise Severus Snape and almost got him killed one time, when Sirius had wanted to lure him into the Shrieking Shack, where Remus was hiding during full moon…"

Harry stopped, his mind running wild. But he remembered nothing else that could convince his father. Everything else he had heard was common knowledge and Harry even doubted that most of the things he had just told James were of any use. James' face only confirmed his suspicion.

"Those were all things everyone could have told you, okay, maybe except for the map," James admitted, "but there are other ways of finding out about it. I'm sorry, but you still haven't convinced me."

Harry racked his brain, trying to remember everything that had ever been told him about his parents, when James interrupted his thoughts.

"Everyone in school knew that we called Sirius Padfoot, Remus Moony and Peter Wormtail and that they called me Prongs."

Prongs! Harry's face lit up with a smile and suddenly held his wand in his hand. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried and watched how the silver Patronus was born out of the tip of his wand. If this did not convince James, Harry did not know what else he could try.

The silver glowing stag galloped once around the Quidditch pitch, followed by the awed gaze of James Potter. Eventually it stopped in front of the older Potter and James looked at it disbelieving. He reached out his hand to touch it, but as soon as it connected, the Patronus dissolved into a silvery mist, which was blown away by the wind.

He looked after the mist until it was completely gone, before he turned to Harry with an astounded look on his face and then smiled softly, when he once again took in the young man in front of him. "You really have her eyes…"

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

"I got the feeling that she knew the truth ever since she laid her eyes upon you. Dumbledore had come to the hospital wing last night after you had retired to your quarters and asked me to give you another chance or at least go along with their cover story. I had thought that Lily was sleeping, but she didn't, so I had to explain it to her. She then had insisted on coming to breakfast with me, so that she could meet you. She didn't want to listen to me, she only said that a mother would always recognize her child. We had then agreed that she would squeeze my hand, when she thought that your story was true, so that I could talk to you in private."

Again the hand went through his hair. "But even though I had her word that you meant no harm, I needed proof. I mean, she always prides herself that she's a good judge of character, but for a reason that I can't fathom she doesn't like Peter that much, even though he's one of my friends… But now, after having seen your Patronus, seeing that it looks like me, and having Lily's word, I believe you…" James smiled at his son. "I'm sorry that I treated you the way I did, but I hope you do understand that it's better to be safe than sorry in times like these…"

Harry finally released the breath that he had been holding almost the whole time without even noticing it and felt as if the weight on his shoulders had suddenly gotten a huge deal lighter. Even the urge to smoke had lessened, he noticed wryly. "I understand… I shouldn't have attacked Peter. It was wrong… But… thanks… I think…"

"Now that you mention Peter," James said, as he sat down. Harry let his wand slide back into its holster and joined his father on the bench. "Why did you attack him in the first place?"

Harry shrugged, not wanting to reveal to his father that his mother was right in not trusting Wormtail. "We have our difference in my time and don't get along. And I think that after the time travel I was still a bit confused."

"Ahh," his father only said and leaned back on the bench. "Tell me something, about yourself, school… Do you play Quidditch?"

"I do," he answered. "Play Quidditch, I mean. At least in school. I was seeker for the Gryffindor team. There hasn't been much time to play in the last few years with Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the loose."

"I see…" James replied thoughtfully, though a bit of pride was still shining through and then suddenly jumped up from the bench, startling Harry. "What do you think? Before you have to tell everything twice, I invite you to have lunch with Lily and me. I'm sure that she'll be happy to spend some time with you."

"Uhm, okay…" Still a bit surprised by his father's sudden idea, Harry also got up and followed the other young man into the castle and through the corridors until they stopped in front of a painting of a knight and his fat pony. Harry chuckled, as he recognized the painting. The knight's name was Sir Cadogan and he had guarded the entry to the Gryffindor tower while the Fat Lady had been repaired after the attack of Sirius Black in their third year. Sirius had tried to get into the Gryffindor tower to get Ron's rat Scabbers, who, in reality, was none other than Peter Pettigrew, the traitor who had been responsible for James' and Lily's deaths.

"You coming?" he suddenly heard James ask and saw that he was already halfway through the hole. Harry had been so lost in his memories that he had not even noticed that James had said the password. Hesitating slightly, he followed his father through the portrait hole and saw his mother sitting on the deep red couch with a book in her hands as soon as he stepped inside. A small crib stood next to the couch and Harry could make out a mob of messy black hair. "Honey, look whom I've brought home for lunch!"

Lily Potter looked up from her book and her eyes went wide, when she noticed Harry standing uncertainly in front of the portrait. She shot a questioning look at James, who nodded, and then got up, her hands shaking. "You are really my son?"

Harry nodded, his throat suddenly being much too dry for him to speak. His mother was standing directly in front of him, his mother whom he had never met before. Before he knew it, he had a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His mother was hugging him… His mother was hugging him! Harry's mind seemed to work in slow motion, only now grasping the fact that this was the first hug his mother had given him since he was a baby.

Suddenly she let go of him and looked at him with watery eyes, taking in each and every detail. "I knew it wasn't a lie. The moment I saw you, I knew that you were my son…"