Harry thought about this for a while. He supposed there could be some merit to what Remus said, but at the same time, it was no reason to ignore him entirely, especially now. His mother knew, he knew she knew at least some of it, he'd seen her writing to Petunia, which meant his father was probably at least as well informed. It's not like they wouldn't realise that her presence might upset him.
"I'm still not sure where I fit with them," he said in reply, still thinking. "But I'd want to know if something was bothering them. If I could help, or... I don't know." He shifted awkwardly; it seemed selfish to demand attention from James and Lily at a time like this, when both of them were younger than himself and after all, barely knew him. But he had expected at least some words of sympathy and it hurt to get nothing but assurances that they could deal with his aunt, without him.
At the same time, he didn't want to ask. There was something inherently pathetic about a man in his mid-twenties pleading for attention from his parents. He wasn't even sure what he would want them to say. Just... something.