Fathers and Sons

Fathers and Sons

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Change

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As Harry - Michael - woke up, the twingling feeling was away. At first he thought he had only dreamed it all - but then a lock of fair fell onto his cheek. A lock of long, honey-brown hair. He groaned and closed his eyes again, determined to shut out whatever bizarre nightmare it was that people called reality.

At last, he managed to get up and stumble to the bathroom. Once there, he studied his reflection in the mirror carefully.

The boy looking back at him was completely unfamiliar. No more he had messy, black hair, no more roundish face and emerald eyes. This stranger had honey-brown, long and wavy hair, beetle-black eyes, pale skin and a narrow face - not the underfed, skinny look he used to have, but a naturally slender form.

And a hooked nose. Merlin knew how many jokes he had made of that nose, Snape's nose - and now he had a similar one himself. Oh, the irony.

He was a bit taller as well, and even more light-build than before - he'd still do an excellent Seeker - and he had long fingers. Both Lupin and Snape had long, fine fingers.

Both of his fathers.

"Harry?" he heard Aunt Petunia's voice calling from outside the bathroom. They had been completely civil to him after the threatenings at King's Cross, leaving him alone - something he was rather grateful of, considering his depressed mood. "Harry, are you there? There's an owl here..."

There was a rather nervous tone in her voice. Michael smirked slightly as he thought of Petunia trying to avoid a post owl. "Coming," he called out. His voice was still almost the same - maybe a bit changed, but not much. Hopefully, the bathroom door would mask it enough - until he came out.

'Prepare for the shock of your life, Petunia,' he thought before stepping out of the bathroom.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in shock, her eyes flying wide.

"Michael," he corrected. "I'll explain later. Now, where's the owl?"

The horse-faced woman pointed with a shaking finger at the bird, which was flying in circles in the corridor. As soon as the owl saw Michael, it flew to him.

He'd never seen the owl before. It was very light-build and night-black. Curious, he untied the parchment from his leg. The owl hooted softly and flew away, not waiting for response, so Michael simply unfolded the letter and read it.

"Michael," it read.

"We got a permission from Dumbledore for you to come to Hogwarts. Prepare to leave permanently around midday, we'll come by them and fetch you from those Muggles." It had no signature, but he knew even without that who it was from - both the addressing of his name and the familiar hand-writing screamed the name of his werewolf father.

Then he turned around to look at Petunia, who wasn't his aunt at all. "You don't have to worry about me anymore," he informed the woman. "I'm leaving today for good."

"But - but this is the only place you're safe at," she whispered. "That's - that's what they told me..."

"Apparently not," he said dryly. "I'm moving in to my fathers' today."

"Your father is dead."

"It seems that my real fathers aren't." He waved the letter towards his new appearance.

"Surely - surely Lily didn't -" By now, Petunia was gaping like a fish on ground.

"No. I didn't say, 'my real father,' I said, 'my real fathers.' A prular. Lily was my mother no more than James was my father."

With these words, he disappeared into his room, where he started packing.