Harry Potter and the Return of the Parents

Chapter 10: Family Time

"Harry, your parents... Lily and James – they're alive."

Sirius' words, almost comical in their theatrical delivery, throbbed in the stillness of the room, until eventually succumbing to the silence that had swiftly descended upon its three occupants. The two men seemed to be holding their breath, Harry the unwavering focus of their intense, cautious gazes.

Harry blinked in confusion.

He understood the sentence – all the individual words, and their meaning combined. But he could not fathom why Sirius had said it.

His companions were evidently awaiting a response, yet Harry could not for the life of him think what he was expected to say. Unable to bear the pregnant silence a second longer, he opted for an inarticulate:

"Huh?"

There was a shared glance, and Sirius spoke again.

"Your parents, Harry." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Dumbledore detected a large energy surge at their grave –"

"What's happened to their grave?" Harry said sharply. Though he himself had never visited, the thought of anything disturbing Lily and James' final resting place was enough to set unease squirming within his stomach.

Sirius continued uninterrupted.

"When Dumbledore arrived, he found that the energy surge was. . ." He threw up his hands. "There's no easy way to say this, Harry, but it was your parents. Alive, kicking, and climbing out of their coffins."

Unease turned swiftly to dread. Climbing out of their coffins?

Nauseating images rose unbidden, fuelled by too many of Dudley's horror films. Withered hands clawing through soil, rotten robes on skeletal figures, red hair obscuring a gaunt face. . .

Some of his horror must have shown on his face, for Remus coughed pointedly and Sirius rapidly backtracked.

"Not in an inferi way!" he barked in disgust, mind no doubt plagued with similar images.

"Not in a zombie way," Remus translated for Harry.

"Then what in Merlin's name are you on about?" Harry demanded, frustration rising.

"Lily and James, Harry" said Sirius, in mild exasperation. "Alive. Talking, laughing, worrying about you." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Drinking tea in the kitchen, playing snap! Not a scratch on them."

Unable to process his godfather's seeming insanity, Harry turned to Remus for aid, only to find his old professor nodding in agreement.

His heart sank as bafflement turned to betrayal, before both surrendered to a weary acceptance.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" Harry said heavily.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and both men looked stricken. For an irrational second Harry felt almost guilty for not playing along. He tried to summon some semblance of humour, or at least a pretence of not caring – a defence perfected through years of torment by Dudley – but the fact that these two men could torment him on this subject hurt too much.

Harry kept his eyes downcast, refusing to look at either man. He felt, rather than saw, his godfather shifting closer, until a hand was slipped into his. Reluctantly, his eyes slid upwards to meet Sirius' earnest stare.

"Harry, no."

A second hand settled upon his knee as Remus crouched beside him and murmured emphatically.