James is taller. Not by much, but Harry didn't inherit his height, apparently. In everything he'd been told about his parents and how much he was like James, no one had mentioned that before. For some reason, he finds it funny, and it takes a supreme effort not to let the laughter bubble out of him.

"Yeah," he says instead, with a little smile that wavers before it starts getting stronger, "yeah, Dad, it's me."

And because he hadn't been able to in the forest, no matter how much he'd wanted to (and how much his father had wanted to, he's sure) suddenly he steps forward and James is yanked into a crushing hug, no warning or consideration that this might be a little too strange for him, it's his dad. He's barely older than Harry, but he's here, he's alive.