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Chapter 6 - A Father's Woes

"So you're telling me, James Potter," green eyes flashed dangerously, as they narrowed into slits, "that our thirteen year old son overpowered you, not once, but twice - stole your wand, not once, but twice - incapacitated you - a full grown man, an Auror - not once, but-"

"- twice? Yes, I am, Lily." James steadily met his wife's infuriated gaze across their kitchen table, where they were both currently seated. "If you want to get technical about it, it wasn't Harry who did those things, but Porteur."

"Harry, Porteur - they are the same person, James!" Lily exclaimed furiously. "They -" she began, but cut herself off and took a calming breath. "Harry is our son no matter what he elects to call himself," she continued in an even, carefully composed tone. "I understand that you don't want to accept his illness. It's difficult -"

"He's not ill," James refuted. "I'm not the one finding it difficult to accept the truth for what it is." He pushed back his chair, the spindle legs scraping roughly against to wood floor of their kitchen, and made to stand. He needed some fresh air. He needed space to think. The morning had turned them all on their heads. He and Lily arguing about what had happened would do no one, especially Harry, any good.

"Damn it, James!" Lily yelled and stood as well, stopping James in his tracks, as he made to turn away from her and head for the backdoor.

"Lils, our son is missing," James said softly, meeting her fiery temper with self-possessed calm, knowing that if he responded with anger it would only fuel the discord between them. "Us fighting like this isn't going to bring him back."

"Then get out there and do something!" Lily shouted, tears sparking in her eyes and threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks. "Find him!"

I am doing something, James thought with frustration. He was doing the only thing that he could: entrusting their son's fate to the one person truly capable of bring Harry back to them.

Though James knew very little about Porteur, he had observed enough to conclude that trusting Porteur to do whatever was necessary was their best chance at getting Harry back - their only hope, if he were being entirely honest. As startling as it had been for him to realize, Porteur was far greater equipped to do something about Harry being missing and to succeed in the endeavor of returning Harry to them than even Albus was. Something about Porteur (his mannerisms, his speech, the knowledge that he had displayed...)had told of an intellect and an understanding of the world and magic that went far beyond any that he had ever encountered. There had also been a sense of determination about the young man that had left him with the distinct impression that Porteur would accomplish any goal, once the young man had set his mind upon it to do so, or would otherwise die trying. Even before Porteur's open proclamation that the young man was regard as the Gray Lord of Europe back in his own world, he had picked up intuitively that Porteur was well versed in various magics - the Mind Arts and Warding being only a few of the complex fields that the young man was privy to - and was most likely not only knowledgeable in them, but quite proficient in their practice, as well having no self-imposed boundaries or respect for the lawful restriction held by the Ministry of Magic to restrain his use of said magics. There was just that wild sort of feel about the young man.

Yet, as an Auror, James had come across all types, from the most benign characters to the most dangerous wizards. To say that Porteur was wild or insidious in base nature would be incorrect, or so he had ascertained. From the brief hour and thirteen minutes that he had spent with Porteur, he had been unable to categorize Porteur in any definitive manner. He had found it impossible to identify the young man as being a civilized, despite the overall benevolent behavior that the young man had display towards him, which had allowed him to feel safe and not at risk of being harmed in the young man's presence. Something was distinctly off in the young man's eyes and the way that young man moved - something feral and untamed - a force not meant to be mistaken as civilized, let alone subservient to the whims and pressures of a civilized society. In an opposing assessment, it had been just as impossible for him to label Porteur as being uncultivated and without social graces, just as impossible for him to identify the young man as being truly criminal. Yes, all his instincts had screamed that Porteur was dangerous. Nonetheless, the young man's body language and the very way the young man had spoken was that of control, a man very much in control and consciously aware of cause and effect. He had witnessed the young man react and process the initial shock of waking up in an unknown world, rationalize what might have occurred, deduce the situation correctly, and proceed to be proactive in formulating a plan that would bring about a desired solution for all involved. At no point had he even glimpsed a hint of madness, or any sort of behavior that would suggest that the young man wasn't in possession of a sound, analytical mind. Porteur was, to his understanding, in aclass of his own: a highly skilled, deadly individual, who was not only with comfortable dealing death, but was capable of rational and methodical thought.

A shiver ran down James's spine, as he considered the type of damage that such an individual could inflict. A highly skilled and deadly madman was one thing. A rational and methodical politician was another. Both were dangerous to cross. To combine the two...to replace the madness with a sane, tactical mind...and, if he wasn't mistaken, factor in the bullheadedness of aGryffindor...the results were incomprehensible.

'I've fought and survived a war.'

'Have you've killed someone in full knowledge that your actions would result in the other person's death? - Yes.'

'It's in the best interest of your son that I remain free and clear of St. Mungo's, no matter what the cost.'

'How old were you the first time you knowingly took alife? - 11, in self-defense.'

'I did not need agrandiose moniker for my reputation to spread.'

'How old were you, when you became a mercenary? - 11, essentially, though I didn't start getting paid until I was 19.'

'Seeing as I'm not your son and was raised with little knowledge of my heritage and have lived amajority of my life in a hostile environment, you should just be happy that Ihave turned out as well as I have.'

'Where were your parents, when you were force to kill at the age of eleven? - Dead.'

'I am Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, the Gray Lord of Europe - self-named as Porteur Demort.'

'Why did you choose the life of a mercenary? - I didn't choose it. It chose me.'

'Porteur, how do you know all that? Why do you know that?- The war'

James could not even begin to imagine the horrors that Porteur's life had to have consisted of for the young man to have spoken with such calm acceptance of having taken a life at the age of 11, of having become a paid mercenary at the age of 19, of having earned the title 'Gray Lord of Europe' with a widespread reputation to back up his claim to said title, or of having fought and survived a war. What his son must have seen in his dreams, James did not want to consider. He had seen the aftermath of Harry's nightmares, and now, after having met Porteur, he was beginning to think Harry's refusal to discuss the actual content of his nightmares with him and Lily was as much to protect them from the truth of what filled their son's mind at night as it was that Harry did not want to relive his nightmares during his waking hours. He may not know the full extent of the wreckage that Porteur could wreak upon the world - the deadly combination the young man was - but his son had had afront row seat and most definitely understood very well what Porteur was capable of.

Yet...

James smiled at seeing his son huddled up with the new book that he had bought him. Harry had been begging him and Lily for months to send him the funds to buy the latest book in the Wesley Spindle series. As athird year student at Hogwarts, Harry had gained unrestricted access to the bookstore in Hogsmeade on Hogsmeade weekends, which meant that Harry had been able to keep up with all the book releases over the last six months. He and Lily had received a very long and persuasive letter discussing why they ought to send Harry the necessary funds to purchase the book the moment that Harry had discovered that Wesley Spindle had released the next volume in the Dragon Series. Seeing Harry's face light up at being gifted the book, upon his arrival home for Easter Holiday, however, had been well worth the angry letter that he had received for refusing to send Harry the requested galleons.

Yawning and knocking on the doorframe leading into the sitting room, in order to make his presence know, James waited for Harry to acknowledge that he was no longer the only member of the Potter family awake at such an untimely hour. As was his son's accustom response to unexpected noises, Harry's shoulders tensed with distress and his head jerked up to locate the source of sound.

"Just me," James said softly, as his son's bespectacled gaze locked onto his own.

"Morning, dad," Harry greeted softly in return, as the tension slowly began to ease from his body.

"You're up early," James commented offhandedly and made to join his son. Lowering himself down into his favorite armchair, he took aquick assessment of his son's overall state. If the dark circles under Harry's eyes weren't telling enough, the fact that Harry had the book open to the end of the second chapter, when yesterday night he had been over halfway finished with it, indicating that Harry was on his second read through, told him that Harry had probably been awake for two or three hours now. The fact that Harry was giving the book a second read through following directly after his initial read through told him that Harry was attempting to distract himself. All evidence added up and accounted for, prognosis: a nightmare, though not aparticularly distressing one. If it had been a distressing one, he and the rest of the house would have heard about it by now.

"You are too," Harry accused and shifted in his position on the comfortable lounge style couch so that he could sit up properly without having to lean so heavily on the couch's armrest. He met James's inquiring gaze with defiance. "Not checking up on me, are you?"

"No, I'm up early thanks to Madam Bones. She has'requested' that I go into the office early to prepare for the Mortimer trial,"James assured, while appreciating his son's defiance, which was a sign of his son's will to live as normal of a life as possible. A few years ago, he had worried that Harry would never be able to strike out on his own and that the nightmares that plagued his son would eventually cripple the boy completely. He didn't know what had changed for Harry, but something fundamental had changed in Harry as of late. He was glad to see it, even if it meant that Harry had begun to pull away from him and Lily.

"Dad?"

The uncertainty in Harry's voice earned James's full attention. "Yes?" he asked, looking to his son inquiringly.

"Is it wrong to want something," Harry lowered his eyes from his father's earnest gaze, as his words lowered in volume to a barely audible whisper, "even if you know that that something will never happen and that you shouldn't really want it to begin with?"

"Has this got something to do with your nightmares?"James asked with concern, as he attempted to wrap his head around why Harry would ask him such a question.

"Porteur wants a lot of things," Harry said, his eyes fixed on his lap. "He always has all these things that he wants, and even though I don't think he should want some of the things that he does or believe that he could make some of the other things that he wants actually happen, he wants them and he somehow makes them happen. He is so close now...to his final goal...he-" Harry shut his eyes, trying to forget something that he clearly didn't want to remember or think of.

"Are we only talking about Porteur wanting things, or are we talking about something that you want as well?" James asked, doing his best to not reach out to Harry and smoother him with reassurances as he wanted to. This maturing version of his son wouldn't appreciate 'being babied' without him first reaching out to him and asking for the warmth of his father's embrace.

"Is it wrong?" Harry opened his eyes and looked up to his father pleadingly.

"I'd say that it depends on what it is that you want,"James said in answer to the strange inquiry. "But if you know you shouldn't want it, then perhaps you shouldn't, especially if you know that it will never happen, as you'll be wasting your time pinning after something that you'll never have and shouldn't actually want."

Harry shoulders dropped and he nodded his understanding, looking completely put out.

"What is it that you want, Harry?" James asked, leaning forward out the worn leather armchair that he loved so much and taking his son's hands into his own. Though Harry had indicated that it was something that he could never have, if James could give it to him, he would. He disliked seeing his children so upset by something, especially when there was something that he might be able to do about it. "You can tell me, you know that."

"IwanttobePorteur," the words tumbled from Harry's mouth in rapid succession, guilt and shame visibly darkening his young face.

James sucked in a sharp, jagged breath, his brain freezing, as it shunned the syllables and refused to acknowledge the admission that had just slipped from his son's lips.

"I want to be Porteur," Harry repeated, his voice strong this time, as he looked directly into his father eyes. "I'm tired of being scared and weak. I'm tired of knowing what I know, but unable to do anything about any of it, because everyone except you thinks that I've lost it and would never believe me or you, if we try to tell them. Dad, I'm tired of people treating me like glass. I'm tired of Mum watching me out of the corner of her eye, as if I might have a mental break at any moment. I'm tired of pretending with Healer Strauss that nothing I see at night is actually real. I don't want -"Harry took a shaky breath, frustrated and angry tears pooling in his eyes. "If there is one person that I could choose to be, if I had to name one person that I respected more than anyone else I know...it's Porteur."

"Harry..." James said, not knowing how to respond. He felt a faint amount of hurt that his son hadn't named him as the person that he respected more than anyone else and wanted to be, yet the problem with what Harry just told him went far deeper than his own momentarily hurt pride.

"Is it wrong?" Harry demanded. "Is it wrong to want to be him?"

"No," the word slid across James's tongue and became vocalized, before he could truly consider it.

James never had gotten out of Harry just why it was that his son respected Porteur so much. However, the fact that his son did respect Porteur, even more than his son respected him, had left him with a quandary. With Porteur now here and Harry missing, James could only trust his son and trust his instincts. His son wasn't a bad judge of character. In fact, Harry was generally a very good judge of character. So, for Harry to respect and look up to Porteur, even with as volatile and dangerous as the young man could be, meant that there was something that Harry had seen in Porteur through his dreams that he had yet to see himself.

It was with surprise that James found himself coming to the edge of the pond a short walk into the forest beyond the back garden of his family's cottage. In his distracted wanderings, he had come to the very place that he had intended to retreat to prior to Lily yelling at him for leaving. He winced at the memory, knowing that the entire situation could have been avoided.

"It's going to be a long few days, old boy," he said to his haggard looking reflection, knowing now that Porteur had been right. Trying to convince Lily and the others that Harry wasn't ill and that Porteur was real had only resulted in Remus and Sirius looking at him like he had gone off the deep end and had caused a major, needless row between him and Lily.

Taking a seat on a boulder that had long been his perch beside this particular pond, James sighed. He felt so helpless, so useless. While he could be out with Sirius and Remus, searching all the places that'Harry' might have run off to, he couldn't bring himself to invest energy in such a pointless endeavor. He knew exactly where Porteur was and Porteur was the one that they were truly looking for. No, looking for Harry would do him as much good as looking for that specialty butterbeer bottle cap that he had lost as a boy, during his summer between his second and third years at Hogwarts. The only thing that he could do right now was try to keep his worry for his son's safety and wellbeing from consuming him and his family whole. In a few minutes, he'd go back inside and do his best to make amends with Lily, comfort Bethany, and perhaps come up with something that would allow them to all feel at least alittle bit productive in bring Harry back to them, despite Harry's actual return depending entirely upon Porteur, a complete stranger to them.