Defending Heart

Chapter 3: The Student Record

Harry pours over his son's record, reading each word carefully and desperate from the others, trying to eliminate the variable of context. Once he finished he was left confused and enraged, thoughts jumbling together in a mass of difficult logic puzzles too advanced to solve. He slumps at his desk in the long, empty D.A.D.A classroom and stares at the back wall until his vision blurs and he's forced to blink. As his vision gains clarity again, his thoughts begin to piece themselves together. A sudden rush of desire sweeps over him, blanketing over any other emotions if they ever existed, and Harry stands up and rushes to the Gryffindor Common Room.

He discovered something more than shocking when he read that file. More saddening than the worst case scenario he expected. James, for the past year and a half, has been using his hexing talents for less than academic pursuits. An incident, the worst in Harry's mind is one that got him detention for the entire term (which they apparently owled Hermione about, but this is the first he's heard of it) was when James swelled the head of fellow student Bertram Aubrey to over twice its size. The poor girl was stuck in the medical wing for a week! However, that being the most outstanding in terms of rule breakage it isn't what Harry focuses on.

He can't escape the name repeated dozens of times, drilling it into his head - or maybe that's cause Severus Snape has a particular alliteration. Going back to events in 1st year that should have been private, everything James did to this anonymous student has been recorded neatly and meticulously - certainly not the work of Dumbledore.

From taunts and whispered threats in 1st year to mean pranks and spells in 2nd, James' noteworthy achievements appear infrequent and benign compared to his infractions. And although his bones shake in internal conflict Harry marches purposefully to confront his son. When he arrives and utters the password in confidence the fat lady creaks open to reveal the cozy, warmly lit common room. It's just as he remembers, and for a second he can only stare around in awe.

Students look up at him, a few whispering amongst themselves, intrigued by Harry's presence. He clears his throat, speaking loudly and firmly. "Everyone - go to your dorms. Where James?!" He gulps, voice wavering as the anxiety within him crippled the resolve - he's never been a confident person, especially when it seems him against the students.

But thankfully he's a teacher and the younger Gryffindors scamper upstairs followed by the respectful older ones, their prefect badges gleaming off the overhead ceiling, magic set to resemble the daylight of late afternoon. James walls downstairs, tie askew and jumper hanging off his shoulders as the Hogwarts student does when not in classes. Whispers can be heard from the upper dorms, The Marauders watching in intrigue from the hidden balconies. "Dad?" James asks before grinning. "Or is it Professor Potter now?"

His grin fades when Harry glares, or tries to which falls into a disappointed frown. "I read your student record. You only ever told me about your achievements, do you understand how difficult it is to trust you when you've kept all this from me?!" He demands, hurt in his eyes more than anger.

"What are you talking about?" James asks, blinking in confusion. His dad's making a scene and it should be embarrassing, but the over-compassionate student is more concerned when he mentions trust. They've always had such a good relationship, trust is especially important between them, always has been. More for Harry than James, but he understands how much it means to him. "Mum always deals with the Owls the school sends, says it's politics that she does. I thought she told you, didn't she?"

Harry stares at his son, mind swirling between different emotions. He searches through his memories, desperate to find some evidence or indication that proves James is lying, or mistaken. James lying to him is a frightening concept but Hermione? Unfathomable. He searches and searches and comes up blank. The student record specifically states Owls had been sent, but Harry's never seen them. And it's not like James could tamper on his end from Hogwarts. "I have to go," Harry states, emotions absent from his voice and if they're in his brain he can't register their presence.

"What's going on dad?" James asks, honestly confused. Honestly bewildered that this has even happened, whatever this is. But Harry leaves the common room without another word and as the Marauders come downstairs, James turns to Remus, shaking his head as his brain empties of any possible explanation.

"Did that just happen?" He asks.

"I'm going to say... maybe?"

*

His hand shakes as he tentatively grips the portkey, so conflicted he can barely identify himself. Harry feels his body and soul ripped from his position, the internal structure of himself dissolving into this object and reappearing with a force that would shatter the body of a Muggle. He blinks, staring up at the sleek black ceiling as he lies on the cold, marble-tiled floor of the Ministry. Sighing, he stands and looks around his corridor, head still empty. Corridor also empty, as the upper floors of the Ministry tend to be during business hours, everyone huddled away in meeting rooms or lavish parliament halls passing legislation.

The Minister's office is marked by a tall archway overlooking an old black door, regal gold trimmings on the knocker carved into a dragon head. Centuries old, this is. Harry knocks and waits outside, the void in his puncture heart being filled with anxiety like water flooding the Titanic. Harry remembers it being different when he was learning about it in Hogwarts, looking more archaic with more security measures. Hermione has done her best to make the atmosphere 'common-wizard friendly' but Harry remains as intimidated as ever. He knocks the special knock and hears Hermione's voice allow him entry. As she calls 'come in' the lock on his side opens on its own.

Harry opens the door to Hermione's soft smile, which quickly evaporates when she sees his downtrodden expression. A wall of trepidation hits Hermione, her eyes widening in realisation. "Shit," She whispers to herself, the quill falling from her hand. Ink smudges across the document she was working on. "The student record,"

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Harry asks, voice defeated. No anger, no urgency, nothing. He just sounds depressed. Done. Over this. "You were so eager to send it to me. On some level, you must have known. Or do you not think I'm smart enough to catch you lying to me?"

Hermione looks at her husband in nothing by shock, for what can she say but cliches, ones that wouldn't even be true? How can she explain her own actions when even she has no idea the motive behind them? When she started hiding the owls from Harry it was to protect him and his image of James, who really is such a compassionate boy - Remus Lupin is proof of that. She knows James, and that despite everything he's deserving of respect and praise even if that isn't reflected in his records. "I'm sorry," is the only honest, coherent thing she can say.

"We - can we talk about this later?" Harry asks, gritting his teeth not in anger but hurt. Hermione nods back, biting tears from her eyes as Harry leaves the office, the building. She decides to go too, since Harry will be returning to Hogwarts she'll just go home. No point in staying around here, too shaken and anxious to do any work.

Instead of going to Hogwarts and burying himself in paperwork, or confiding in Dumbledore, Harry resolves to get answers from the one person he won't immediately distrust - a name he checks on the student records, the alliteration not really having its desired effect.

Severus Snape.