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“Moony,” Harry says as they walk home from school hand-in-hand, “Mrs. Bowen said that this weekend is Mother’s Day.”
Remus almost trips over his feet, his heart dropping. “O-oh,” he manages to say, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. He had forgotten; after all these years, despite everything his mother has done for him, Remus hasn’t done much to thank her, and certainly not on Mother’s Day.
And now they have Harry, whose mother…
“She said that we would be making cards for our mothers or mother figures. She said if we don’t have mothers we can make cards for our grandmothers, or anyone else who takes care of us like a mother.”
Well, at least Harry doesn’t sound upset, Remus reasons, and hadn’t asked to see his mother. In fact, Harry hadn’t asked to see James and Lily at all, a blessing in disguise; they are still incredibly careful about bringing Harry anywhere he might be recognised in the Wizarding world, and unfortunately that included Godric’s Hollow.
“Well, who would you like to make a card for, then?” Remus finally asks, after a moment too long.
“Well, Nain Hope, of course,” Harry replies, swinging their linked hands between them. He’s eyeing a nearby puddle, and Remus is resigning himself to the incoming splash. “I first thought of making you a card, since you’re like my mum, but actually you’re more like my Da, right?” Harry gives him a side-along look, as if trying to silently catalog Remus’ reaction.
“Yes,” Remus manages, smiling softly down at the boy, “yes, I’m…” your Da, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t know if they’re ready for that, yet. “I’d say I’m more like a father-figure than a mother-figure.” It’s not quite the time, Remus thinks, nor the appropriate age, to discuss the nuances of gender and mothers and fathers. Besides, Sirius was far better at the whole “non-biological parents” thing, and Remus often felt out of his depth when the subject was broached without Sirius by his side.
“Yeah, so I’ll make you and Padfoot something for Father’s Day instead,” Harry nods resolutely, then jumps into the puddle.
“So, you’ll make Nain a card for Mother’s Day, then?” Remus asks a while later, once Harry has had his fun and their trousers are thoroughly soaked.
“Mm, and I was thinking, is Mama Minerva going to be here this weekend?”
“You’d like to make a card for Minerva?” Remus asks, a bit incredulously. Minerva had started helping Hope babysit Harry during Full Moons, something Sirius had negotiated triumphantly behind Remus’ back the month after adopting Harry. She also tended to come visit once or twice on Hogsmede weekends, but even with all of that, it was hard to think of his former teacher as someone Harry would see as a mother figure, despite her allowing him to call her “Mama”.
“Well, if I make a card for your Ma, shouldn’t I make a card for Padfoot’s Mum, too?”
“Padfoot’s—” Oh, Sirius is going to get a kick out of this, Remus thinks distantly. “Harry, Minerva isn’t actually Sirius’ Mum. She’s…”
“I know, but Padfoot says it doesn’t matter who’s our actual parent. He says it’s more important if they love you like one.”
“And you think… Mama Minerva loves Padfoot like that?” Remus is so in over his head, and he regrets deciding to walk home today. And living so far away.
“Yeah,” Harry’s voice suggests this is obvious. “And Mama Minerva loves me like a grandmother, just like Nain. So I think I should make her a card, too.” Harry peers back up at Remus, who hopes there are no tears in his eyes. “So, is she coming this weekend?”
“She… hasn’t said yet,” Remus manages. “But I can ask her to come, if you’d like to celebrate.”
Harry’s face lights up. “Thank you!” He shouts, throwing his arms around Remus. Remus tries not to cry. “I’ve never celebrated Mother’s Day,” Harry murmurs into his stomach, as if to himself. Remus wipes his tears away as fast as possible.
Remus doesn’t find the time to tell Sirius about their conversation until after Harry’s gone to bed, after dinner and a bath and the latest chapter of The Hobbit was read aloud. Sirius cries, then laughs, then cries some more, and then offers to pen a message to Minerva himself. Remus lets him; Sirius has mentioned, in an off-hand sort of way, that he does see Minerva as somewhat of a maternal figure, but Remus is fairly certain it’s never been discussed between them properly.
“He also said… well, he said he’d write us cards for Father’s Day,” Remus adds, when Sirius has sent the owl off.
“Did he?” Sirius hums. “Well, I suppose it does make sense. If he wants to celebrate Mothers Day with our mother figures…”
“Should we… be encouraging him to do something for Lily and James?” This is a topic they’ve discussed at length. Harry has no shortage of curiosity about his parents, and Remus and Sirius have done their best to tell him stories and let him know he was—and still is—loved, but they have noticed the boy seems to care more about magic and the stories themselves than the fact that the people in them were his own parents. At the same time, neither man wants Harry to become stuck in the past, always thinking about the parents he’ll never get back.
“If he doesn’t want to I don’t want him to feel like he should, but…”
“My mum and Minerva are amazing, and they love him so much, but they’re not Lily,” Remus whispers, when it becomes clear Sirius won’t continue, “we’re not James.”
“No,” Sirius agrees, “even with the two of us we don’t make his one.”
“Harry said I was like his Da. I… I am a bit like his Da, and I—Sirius, is it awful that I want to be like his Da?”
“You are like his Da, and so am I, even if neither of us are James.” Still, Sirius looks conflicted. “I don’t know, Moons. I don’t know how I’d feel if Harry made a card for the two of us but didn’t make one for James.” Remus wipes his eyes surreptitiously, and Sirius draws him close, into a loose embrace. “But one thing I do know about our boy, our brilliant Harry, is that he has enough love for all of us. Just like his parents did."
Harry loves school. It’s not that he loves class, exactly, but he loves having friends; even if he can’t tell them about magic, no one calls him a freak or makes fun of him for not having parents or a last name. Because now Harry knows how to control his accidental magic better—he and Padfoot meditate together every day—which means strange things happen less around him; and now he does have parents, and he does have a last name, even if it’s a different last name than his parents.
He not only has parents, he has grandparents, and Harry takes much pleasure in telling his school friends about how he celebrated Mother’s Day with them. None of them had celebrated the day with their grandmothers, and when Dylan tries to say it’s because Harry doesn’t have any mothers, Gwen says he was just jealous because Harry has two Das, and Dylan only has one.
That’s something which Harry has stopped correcting, for the most part. Parents sometimes gave him distrustful looks, but after Padfoot explained to them how he was Harry’s guardian and that Moony was only helping him out, since they were friends of Harry’s first parents, people stopped treating their family as something bad. The other children, however, often couldn’t quite understand how that was any different than Harry having two Das, and if Harry’s honest—he isn’t quite sure, either. He doesn’t know anyone else with two Das, or anyone with two Mas, although there are a few kids who only have one parent, or whose parents don’t live together anymore. Tristan even has a stepmother, but he says she’s not much like another Ma, and besides, having two Mas wasn’t nearly as fun as having two Das.
Lots of the other kids think Harry’s lucky, because Dads are fun and play with you and don’t tell you what to do like Mums do, and they think Harry having both Padfoot and Moony means double the fun and double the playing. Harry thinks both of them tell him what to do plenty, and so do Nain and Mama Minerva, but he agrees that they’re fun: Padfoot will turn into a dog and play fetch with him and show him magic all the time, and Moony reads him stories every night, and even does funny voices to make him laugh.
All this to say, is that Harry has two Das, and all his classmates know this. It’s a source of wonder for them, and Harry starts telling his friends what his Das did the other day (muggle-safe stories, of course), to the envy of all the other children. Harry’s Da took him hiking and showed him what plants and mushrooms they could eat (put into potions); Harry’s Da caught a fish with his bare hands (teeth, as Padfoot); Harry’s Da—the other one, Moony—fought a bear (boggart) that came too close to the neighbour’s property.
This goes on for weeks, as Harry goes on adventures with his Das every weekend, or asks Moony about what magical creature or dark object he’s been asked to deal with this time, or plays with Padfoot in the backyard. It might be the happiest Harry has ever been, in his admittedly short but quite eventful life.
That’s why Harry doesn’t even notice he’s said it. He certainly doesn’t notice Moony stiffening and looking at him in alarm.
“What did you say, Harry?”
“What… what’s for dinner?”
“No, after that, what did you call me?”
“Oh…” Only now does Harry realise what he’s said, and that Moony is tense all over because of it. “Is that… not okay?” Harry has been calling Moony his Da to all his friends at school, though he usually calls him Moony to his face, and he hadn’t thought it might be wrong to do so.
“That’s… Um, Harry, I… James is your Dad.”
Harry doesn’t understand. “I know.”
“James Potter, and—and Sirius, Padfoot, he’s your guardian.”
“I know.” Harry frowns at Moony’s wording. Does guardian mean Padfoot doesn’t see himself as Harry’s parent? The matron at the orphanage was his guardian. But Padfoot doesn’t treat Harry the way the matron did. Padfoot treats him like a son, like he’s Harry’s Da.
“What I mean to say is, Harry, I don’t… I don’t want to—to take James’ place, or even Sirius’.”
“So… you can’t be my Da? But Padfoot says—he says that anyone can be a Da, even if they’re not your first Da. And my first parents can’t take care of me anymore, even though they loved me very much, so can’t you and Padfoot be my new Das?” Harry frowns. “At the orphanage, everyone talked about getting adopted by new parents, because having new parents was better than having none, even if they weren’t your first parents.”
Harry had always wanted new parents, and Padfoot and Moony were the best possible set! They had magic, and knew his first parents, and took care of him and loved him, and Padfoot could turn into a dog and Moony fought dragons and other cool magical creatures, and he had two Das which was better than just one, and he had two grandmothers! That was loads better than having no adults except the matron.
“Well…” Moony hesitates. “Yes, and we—we love you very much, and care for you, but… Your first parents, James and Lily, they loved you very much as well.”
Harry still doesn’t understand. “Yes, I know,” he says, because they’ve told him, and he’s seen the photos, and although he doesn’t remember his parents he thinks he can remember that feeling of being loved, sometimes wakes up to a vague memory of red hair and a whisper of “Mummy loves you”.
Moony shifts, uncomfortable, unsure what to say.
“Are you not my new Da, then?” Harry finally asks, “or is only Padfoot my new Da? Only—only everyone at school thinks you’re my Da, that I have two Das, and it’s been loads of fun, and everyone thinks it’s really cool, and I think it’s wonderful, because I love having you and Padfoot as my Das, and I’ve always wanted a Da and now I have two—or I thought I had two—and I don’t understand, why you can’t be my Da if you do all the things Das are supposed to do.”
“I—well.” Moony laughs quietly. “When you put it like that.” He sits down carefully on the floor and holds his hands out, so Harry goes to stand in front of him, small hands placed carefully in Moony’s bigger ones. “You’re right, I do do all the things Das do, and I love you like I’m your Da. It’s just… it’s a bit complicated, because I knew your Da and I loved him, and I know how much he loved you. I don’t want you to grow up not knowing him, or thinking he didn’t love you. I don’t… want to feel like I’m replacing him, or disrespecting his memory, or—or taking advantage of him being gone.”
Harry doesn’t really understand what Moony means by taking advantage, and isn’t too sure how being his Da would disrespect his first Da’s memory, but he definitely knows—“Padfoot says you can have however many parents you want, so long as they want you, too, and they treat you like a parent should. And he says he’s not replacing anyone, he’s taking care of me like my parents would’ve taken care of me, because they can’t do it and it’s his job to do it whenever they can’t. He says that was his job since I was born, so if he was taking care of me when my parents couldn’t even when they were alive, then he wasn’t replacing them. He was just being another Da.”
“Yes, well—he’s your godfather, yes.”
Harry waits, but Moony doesn’t say anything more.
“So can I call you my Da, then? Since you’re my new Da?”
Moony blinks and doesn’t respond, opening his mouth and then closing it.
“Or I can call you something else, I suppose. Sometimes it’s confusing, when I tell people my Da did something and they don’t know which Da. Should I call you something else?”
“Why don’t we—” Moony clears his throat. “Why don’t we wait for Sirius to come home, and then we can… discuss this as a… family.”
This makes sense to Harry. He nods, agreeing, and goes to do his homework, because Moony doesn’t let Padfoot play with him after dinner until he’s done his homework, and he doesn’t know if Moony will let them talk about it if there’s still work to be done.
It gives him time to think, too, and by the time Padfoot has come home, Harry is prepared.
“Padfoot, you’re my new Da, right, just like Moony?” Harry asks, before Moony can bring up some other conversation topic.
“Oh, right, Pads, we—er, Harry called me Da earlier today, and we… spoke about it a bit,” Moony says quietly.
“Moony said he didn’t want to replace my first father, but I said you said we can have however many parents we want, and it’s not replacing, and besides since my first parents can’t take care of me you’re doing it for them, and loving me for them, and you said they’d want you to.”
“Yes, that’s right, Harry.”
“And I really want two Das, everyone at school thinks it’s great, and I love having you as my Das, except it gets confusing if I call you both Da, because sometimes people at school don’t know which of you I’m talking about.” Harry hops on his toes in his excitement, “so I was thinking, I should call you both different things, like how some people say Da and some people say Dad and all—and Pads sounds like Pad, like Dad, or maybe like Pa, which is like Da except with a P, and Nain says French people call their fathers papa, and Padfoot speaks French, so I should call him Pa! And then Moony can be Da. And then so no one gets confused, when I talk about my first parents, I can call them Mum and Dad, because that’s what I would’ve called them, right, because they’re English?”
Harry’s pretty proud of himself for having thought of that all. He’d considered calling Moony something more similar to Mum, since “Moony” almost sounded like “Mummy”, but in the end felt that Da fit him better. When neither of his parents say anything, he suggests this, in case Moony feels differently himself, but Moony doesn’t look very happy with that idea.
“No, no—Da, um… Da would be… I mean that I…” Moony doesn’t finish his sentence, and looks at Padfoot, as if for help, which is silly because Moony never needs Padfoot’s help, it’s always the other way around.
“I think that’s a brilliant idea, Harry,” Padfoot—no, Pa now—says, with a beaming grin. “We would be honoured to be your parents, your Pa and Da. And I think it’s wonderful, to have a different name for James and Lily too, so we don’t—get confused. Moony loves Da, right, Moons?”
Moony—Da—nods, and wipes his eyes. He’s crying, Harry realises.
“I love you, Harry,” Da says, and gathers him in his arms. “Da—Da loves you.”
“And Pa,” Harry reminds, as Pa wraps his arms around him as well, “and Mum and Dad.”
“Yes, all four of your parents love you.” Pa presses a kiss to his head.
Four parents, and two grandparents! Harry’s the luckiest boy in the world.