Snape's Worst Memory, pt. 3

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Over the next two weeks, James, with the Marauders’ help, terrorized not only his usual targets, but a few new people. He started a rumor that he’d caught Gilderoy Lockhart snogging a boy in a supply closet; he added magical tablets to the Slytherin’s drinks so they grew tails or forked tongues; he set various creatures loose in the school corridors. 

Harry was at first concerned, then annoyed, then angry at how his dad was acting. James never got back to the dorms earlier than midnight each night from detention. He rarely showed up at Quidditch practice, and the last match was only a couple days away. 

Harry stayed up, waiting for James to get back to the Gryffindor Tower. His dad came in at one, bleary-eyed and pale. He only noticed Harry when he nearly ran into him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, starting to move past. 

“James, wait.” 

“Oh. It’s you.” 

“Yeah, it’s me. James, this needs to stop. You owe it to me and you owe it to your team to make it to practice. You can’t do that when you’re getting detentions constantly.”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t learn anything at practice anyway.” 

“That’s it. You do one more stunt with the Marauders and you’re—”

“How do you know about that?”

“I—what? Know about what?”

“We haven’t told anyone that we’re called the Marauders. I came up with it yesterday.” James was calm, expression cold. Somehow, though, he didn’t seem surprised. 

“I overheard you talking about it.” 

“Okay, then where were we when we were talking?” 

Harry was at a loss for what to do. He could lie and say Remus told him, but that would fall through eventually. “I don’t know.” He made toward the stairs. 

“Then is it because you already knew?” James’ posture was slouched, but he was still with tension. Weariness had left him.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you’ve known since before meeting us.”

“How is that possible?” Harry forced a laugh, sliding his hand into the pocket that contained his wand. 

“You’re my son.” James’ hand shot down and grabbed his wand before Harry could pull out his. “Expelliarmus!”  

Harry’s wand flew to the other side of the room. Defenseless, he gave in.“How did you find out?”

“I overheard you talking to Snivellus nearly two months ago.” Harry flashed back to that time and remembered the twig that had snapped nearby, which he’d dismissed. “Since then, I could tell, and I overheard you and Raven.” 

“I was lying to them. Anything I said, it wasn’t…” 

“It’s no use, I know you were telling the truth. It all makes sense; how good you are at Quidditch, your grades, how you talk. You’re my—you’re my son, aren’t you? Snivellus had his little breakdown in the forest because of it.” 

Harry sighed and rubbed his temple. He hadn’t intended James to find out, especially so soon. “Yeah, I am.” 

Now that James’ suspicions were confirmed, he relaxed. “Merlin, I’m sorry for, well, everything.” James paused, processing what this meant, what Harry knew. He grinned back at Harry, an idea alight in his eyes. “You should join us, then. Be one of the Marauders.”

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