Son of the Storm

Confrontations and Reunions

Harry looked up as he heard footsteps. In a heartbeat, he realised just why everyone said he looked like his father. Looking at James Potter, God of Thunder, was like looking at an older version of himself - albeit without green eyes or, he noticed with a stab of jealousy, glasses. He also looked rather nervous as he came to sit down beside Harry's bed, running a hand through his hair distractedly. Harry watched as his eyes ran up and down Harry's body, focused first on his face, then on his eyes. He sighed, and smiled crookedly. "Long time no see, son," he said quietly.

Harry glared at him for a long moment, fighting down a veritable storm of conflicting emotions, then said what he'd been wanting to say ever since he'd found out his father was alive. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" he snarled.

James jerked back like he'd been slapped. Then, with visible effort he replied, "I was incarnated as James Potter by my father, as a lesson in humility. I had no memories of my past life. Then, when I was murdered, I witnessed your mother's death as a spirit." Pain filled his eyes and he closed them briefly. "I then returned to Asgard. I returned to my original form. And I went mad. Mad with grief and rage. None could stop, none could hold me. I would have shattered worlds in my madness, and even mighty Heimdall could not have restrained me. But my father could. He removed my memories of my life as James Potter."

"So why did you come now?" Harry asked, voice quieter.

"When the Dementors closed in on you, you sent out a subconscious distress call," James replied. "My brother Loki, your uncle, picked up on it, and broke the memory enchantment on me. I came down as fast as I could." He scratched his jaw, puzzled. "Though how you had not yet hit the ground I do not know."

Harry digested this information. He looked thoughtful. "So... why don't you look like you do on TV?" he asked eventually. It was an odd question, but it was the first one that came to mind.

James chuckled, and shifted shape. The chair creaked slightly under his newly enhanced form.

Harry smirked. "Someone needs to go on a diet."

"You take more after my brother than is strictly healthy," James grumbled good naturedly, shifting back.

"Let's just hope I inherited the mischief making rather than the megalomaniacal tendencies," Harry said dryly.

James stared at him. "You used a word with seven syllables in it," he said, shocked.

"I hang around with the smartest witch in the year," Harry said, shrugging. "Some of it was bound to rub off."

"And your mother was top of her year," James said. "Please tell me that you at least break the rules sometimes," he begged, eyes wide.

"... um, a bit?" Harry ventured, a tad startled by this reaction. "Does sneaking past traps set up by all the Professors to get to the Philosopher's Stone count? And brewing polyjuice potion in a bathroom and sneaking into the Slytherin common room? And sneaking out at night with your invisibility cloak?"

James looked immensely proud. "Yes it does," he said grinning. Then he sobered and looked stern. "I hear that you are less than respectful to Professor Snape, and often refer to him simply as Snape."

Harry opened his mouth to angrily retort, to explain that Snape had had it in for him since the very first day, then saw the twinkle in his father's eyes. His dad was teasing him. He couldn't help but get a warm feeling when he realised that.

"I can only say one thing to such behaviour," James continued solemnly, lips twitching in the beginnings of a grin. "Carry right on with my full blessing."

"Thanks... dad," Harry said, testing out the new word. He'd never really used it before. He looked at his dad, then reached out and hugged him. His dad stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug. For the first time since he was just over a year old, Harry relaxed in the reliable strength of his father's arms, letting himself be gently rocked back and forth. Most teenage boys would have found this awkward. At best. But Harry was not most teenage boys. A love starved orphan, he was going to latch onto whatever love he could get.