Reflection – Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

Summary: Meeting oneself is a strange experience. But meeting yourself, a self who attacks you, is stranger still and it leads Harry on a journey of discovery into the truth about himself and the other Harry. What path will he choose - to help or hinder Voldemort?

Warnings: Slash. Character death. Murder, violence, fighting. Drugging. Control. Manipulation.

Pairings: OC/NL, HP/GW

Saturday 27th July

The order would come to collect him at midnight.

Midnight.

He'd get to leave Privet Drive for the last time ever…hopefully tomorrow he could get a haircut too. His hair was really quite long now, reaching his shoulders at the back and hanging strangely around the front of his face. He had taken a pair of scissors to it himself just to keep it out of his eyes but couldn't bring himself to cut the rest off. Still, Molly would be able to help he was sure, she was always offering to help Bill cut his hair. Hopefully Hermione could help with his glasses too, they were blurry and he couldn't see properly.

Only 4 hours until midnight.

The Order would be there soon to help him get away before the wards fell in a few days. It had been planned for a while. The Dursley's had already gone away, to who knows where. That was kept a secret, and Harry didn't really care at all anyway. As long as they were safe. He didn't even care if they were comfortable.

He trudged downstairs tapping his wand holster as he walked to make sure he still had his wand. In the kitchen he set about making himself a sandwich with the little food available to him in the house. The Dursley's had left milk and other perishables in the fridge, he could eat the ham in his sandwich but the rest would be better off in the bin. Sandwich made Harry took one bite then set about emptying the milk carton down the sink, running water so it wouldn't reek in a few days, and cleared out the fridge and other perishables. Once he'd separated the recyclables from the rubbish he grabbed a handful of stuff and headed to the front door. With one hand he carefully unlocked the door and pulled it open. He trudged the path to the bins and loaded his stuff into it.

Just as he was closing the bin lid he caught a glimpse of several cloaked figures coming down the road. Broad daylight just walking down the road! Hoods up, cloaks falling to the ground…wizards.

Harry turned and ran.

"POTTER!" A voice screamed behind him. He didn't look. Looking meant trouble. He just ran.

In through the front door, he slammed it shut and slammed the bolts across. That wouldn't stop a wizard but it might help. Harry drew his wand. He couldn't use magic. He didn't care about being expelled but he couldn't be arrested. Not now. Not with Vol…

There were slams against the door.

"Potter! Open this door right now! Right now, do you hear me!"

"Potter, it's Aberforth Dumbledore…"

Who?! Harry turned and ran away from the door. He needed his stuff…but that was upstairs and there were bars on his window! He wouldn't be able to escape.

"Open this bloody door Potter before I break it down!"

Oh shit…Harry frantically looked around. Where could he go?! How could he get out?! There were no other exits from the house! The garden was fenced in, there were no windows he could use that didn't lead to the front garden or back garden. He couldn't hide in the house. He had to get out!

"I warned you Potter! Aloh…"

Harry didn't hang around for the last of the incantation. He ran to the back garden. It was the only other way out. The fence…he'd jump the fence. There was a bench, then the shed…he could do it. He could! Harry ran over to the bench, jumped up and with his foot on the arm rest saw three people enter the house. Their hoods were down. One was Alastor Moody. Another looked like Dumbledore…Harry's heart clenched. The last person though…the last person looked like him. The last person was him. Hair, eyes, skin, glasses, height…it was him.

Harry's steps nearly faltered.

"Quick Alastor!" The Dumbledore lookalike levelled his wand at Harry. Harry threw himself forward, pushing with all his might through his legs so he could jump onto the shed. He landed with a thump just as a red light flew past him.

"God!" He gasped. Breath coming hard he looked around. Blood beat in his ears. His heart was in his throat. He stared around frantically then down to his three attackers. He stared at the other Harry. "Who the hell are you?!"

"I'm you. Or rather, you are me."

"Don't say anything else Harry." Alastor barked and repositioned his wand. More lights sped their way to Harry. He rolled and fell off the shed and into the next door neighbour's garden. Mrs Smith was in the kitchen and gaped at him. He waved as he got to his feet then the fence burst into splinters.

A voice identical to Harry's called, "Stupify!"

There was a flash of red then all Harry saw was black.

When Harry woke up he was tied and gagged in a tiny dark room. He didn't dare make a noise. Moody, that crazy Dumbledore and the him-look-a-like had kidnapped him. Harry's heart was in his throat. Blood roared in his ears. He'd been taken by Death Eaters. They had to be Death Eaters. But how could they get into the house? They clearly meant him harm so how could they enter the house before the wards dropped?

Voices.

Harry could hear voices. And, now his eyes had adjusted, he could see light. His vision wasn't perfect but he could see. Strangely his sight was just as bad without his glasses as it was with his glasses. Harry strained to lift himself up. In the end he used the wall to prop himself up, making a bottle of Mr Muscle fall off the shelf onto the floor.

He was in a cupboard. He knew the cupboard! He was in the cupboard under the stairs! But why was he here?

"Right Potter, you're still under aged which means you've still got the trace on you." That was Moody's voice. Harry strained as best he could forwards so he could get a glimpse through the small peep hole he always used as a child to spy on the Dursley's. It was small but it served its purpose. Harry could usually get a glimpse of Uncle Vernon's face and could tell whether he was going to be in more trouble than usual just for existing by how purple the man's face was. Through the gap now Harry could see himself, standing in front of Alastor Moody in a room full of people. He could make out lots of red headed people, obviously the Weasleys. And there was a huge dark man in the corner…Hagrid, clearly. Nobody else was that big.

"The trace?" Look-a-like asked, even his voice sounded the same as Harry's!

"If you sneeze the minister will know who wipes your nose. The point is we have to use those modes of transport the trace can't detect…" Moody educated with a surprising amount of patience in his voice considering his blunt delivery. He went on to explain the plan, how they'd escape, what they would do if they were attacked, who was going with who. It was a nightmare…a living nightmare. They were planning to escape with Death Eater Harry while Harry was stuck in the cupboard!

He tried making noise, tried stamping and knocking things around. He hit the door with his feet but nobody even blinked in his direction. They couldn't see him or hear him…they didn't know he was there. They must have put spells on the door! Maybe he was warded in! There were such things as silencing wards after all, it was one of the few wards the boys had bothered to learn in the dorm mostly to stop themselves from hearing Seamus' snoring and Dean's…extra-curricular activities. Point is; Harry didn't think he'd ever be in a situation where help was so close and yet impossible to reach because of the damn ward.

He settled for watching. Seven people took a cup and drank. It was clearly polyjuice because their appearances changed to become the same as Harry's, the Death Eater Harry's with tidier hair. Then they began to get changed, pink flesh being visible before being covered up with red shirts, grey jackets and blue jeans. Once that was done more instructions were given out by Moody and within ten minutes everyone was out of the door.

The house was left in silence for all of two minutes. Then there were screams and shouts, yelling and cursing and rage filled screeches.

The Death Eaters had come! The Death Eaters had all come! Just like they worried about. When the wards went down the house was visible and now the Death Eaters were after Harry's friends…or already had Harry's friends thanks to Death Eater Harry!

"Get in there and check the house!"

Two boot covered feet stomped in through the doorway. Harry held his breath, barely daring to breath. That was a Death Eater! No doubt. A long black cloak, heavy boots, a white mask and the smell of decaying things…definitely a Death Eater. The boots stomped around then stomped upstairs, dust from the stairs landed on Harry's head as it always did when Dudley or Vernon used to stomp about. A few tense moments later the boots came back down and a gruff voice shouted out.

"Nobody there! The whole hovel is empty."

"Bloody Potter! Alright, up in the air!"

As simply as that they were gone. Harry waited and waited.

The minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly.

He didn't dare make a noise. Not a single noise. He didn't even dare to wiggle around now. He just waited.

Police lights flashed in the street. That light up the whole place, nearly blinding Harry with the bright amidst the darkness. People came into the house again, started bumbling around turning on and off lights. They declared the whole place was empty, shut the door and put up tape. Harry could hear them talking with neighbours outside. They hadn't searched the cupboard…maybe they couldn't see the cupboard.

The ropes around his ankles and wrists disappeared. They didn't come undone, they didn't break, they just disappeared. The gag in his mouth also disappeared. The door to the cupboard swung open.

Harry held his breath. Who was there?! Who did that?! What was going on?! Why was he free now all of a sudden? Was it a trap?!

Harry waited. He waited.

Nobody came. No sounds, no people, nothing. There was nothing there.

Perhaps the spells had worn off? Hopefully.

Harry darted to his feet, rubbed his wrists and felt for his wand. It was missing. His wand was gone. They had taken his wand.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What was he going to do now?! How was he going to go anywhere? He couldn't stay here but where could he go? What waited for him if he left the cupboard? The house?

He had to chance it. Maybe there was some money or something left upstairs…maybe! Anything would help. Otherwise he'd have to make do. How far was it to London?

Harry carefully exited the cupboard. His body was wracked with tension that didn't dissipate no matter how many steps he took. He made it to the bottom of the stairs and, tactically not the best decision ever, decided to go upstairs to see if there was anything he could find to help him get out of the situation.

The upstairs was empty though, except for a few ruined clothes of Dudley's and some of Harry's old things he had never thrown out after deciding not to pack them. His trunk was gone, his bed covers were all over the floor and his mattress was torn now but that was it. There was nothing there, not even in his secret stash of things in the floor boards. That was empty too, he'd made sure of that earlier. What to do? HE had no way to defend himself, no money to get anywhere, and no things to take with him anyway. He was stuck. Not even Hedwig was around.

It was too late to go anywhere now anyway; it was probably too dangerous as well…not that it was any safer there.

Harry spent ages trying to decide what to do. In the end he decided he would have to leave Privet Drive. It was asking for trouble being in the house now, after Death Eater Harry had attacked him and the other Death Eaters had been there. He packed his duvet with all the spare pieces of clothes he could, including the torn sheets in case he needed them. Then he crept downstairs again. Considering there had been so much going on earlier the street was oddly quiet and dark. The lights were out in every house, there were no people around and the police had long since gone. The clock on the cooker said it was 2am so Harry supposed that explained it.

He crept out the front door and out onto the street, probably looking like a young skinny Father Christmas with his duvet slung over his back. Two streets over he took another turn down a lane which he knew lead to the A road that lead into London. He would walk along that as far as he could and camp out afterwards. Maybe if he was lucky he could hitch hike.

July 28th

Hitch hiking had been easier than he thought, especially since it was the Police who picked him up. He'd been thoroughly questioned about why he was out there wandering around with a duvet on his back but by that time he had already mentally rehearsed his answers. His drink had been spiked by his friends and they'd driven him to Surrey and left him there. It was believable when you counted in the fact that Harry looked about the right age and that several kids had been pulled over for driving while intoxicated. They hadn't made Harry give names, because Harry couldn't remember anything anyway, but they had been kind enough to take him into London. They were going to walk him home but a stabbing at a local council estate had called them away so Harry was allowed to walk the rest alone. Pure luck! Even more luck meant he was close to the Leaky Cauldron, and forty minutes later he'd even managed to find a dry spot to sit down, snuggle into his duvet and have a rest.

Early in the morning on a weekday meant it was fantastically easy to get through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley. There were so many people, witches and wizards, who didn't even look twice at him as he tagged along behind them into the Alley. Shops were brimming with people already and he didn't even look out of place carrying his duvet. The magical world was weird like that. One person had just assumed he was carrying his wardrobe in the duvet and was delivering it to his Gringotts vault. The goblins, as usual, didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Key."

"I um…I don't have my key. All my things were stolen last night in a…in a…in a Death Eater attack. I just…I need to get into my vault so I can get money to catch the knight bus or use the floo."

The Goblin peered at him with unimpressed eyes.

"No key, no entrance."

"B-b-but…but I honestly don't have it. I only ever had one key and that was in my trunk."

"Nonsense! Gringotts always provides 3 keys to every new vault owner. Next!"

"But I swear I only had one key! I've only ever had one key!"

"Any key problems must be taken to Enquiries and Complaints. Next!"

A wizard shoved Harry out of the way in an effort to get to the Goblin who didn't spare Harry another glance even when he tripped and fell to the floor. A few people teetered but nobody offered to help.

Embarrassed and upset Harry stood and looked around. He needed to get into his vault, hadn't the goblin said something about Enquiries and Com…ah, there. There was a small desk in the corner of the room just for Enquiries and Complaints. The desk was blessedly empty too. Harry strode straight up to the counter.

"Hi, excuse me, I don't have my key because I've only ever had one key and…"

"Name?" The goblin demanded in a dry no-nonsense tone.

"Harry Potter."

The Goblin eyed him critically.

"Hmm." Then he got up and walked over to a set of filing cabinets. He pulled out the middle drawer which seemed to pull out endlessly, going the entire length of the room and then some, as the drawer itself bent back upon itself and kept coming out of the cabinet. "Potter…"

The goblin pulled out a file, opened it and peered down through half-moon spectacles perched on his abnormally large nose.

"Potter, Harry James was issued with three keys in 1987 at his address in Hogsmeade." The goblin snapped the file shut and put it back in the cabinet.

"But I was seven then, and I didn't find out about the wizarding world until I was eleven! And I've always lived in Surrey."

"We do not appreciate lies here at Gringotts. You shall be escorted from the building!" The goblin reached out to ring a bell with a gnarled hand.

Desperately Harry slammed his hands down on the desk. "But I'm not lying! I promise I'm not lying!" Two bulky goblins carrying vicious looking weaponry marched towards him as soon as the goblin pressed the bell. Harry stared at them, fear flooding through every cell in his body. "I…do you have any veritaserum?! I'll take veritaserum to prove it to you! I'm not lying!"

"You would be willing to take veritaserum?" The two angry looki8ng goblin guards paused as the goblin behind the desk spoke. Seeing it as a piece of luck in a potentially horrible situation Harry nodded frantically.

"Yes! Yes I will!"

"Come along then 'Mister Potter'. This way." The Goblin opened the desk and stepped out from behind it, summoning Harry to follow him. The two goblin guards crowded behind him leaving him little choice but Harry would have gone anyway.

He was led out of the main atrium and down a corridor at the back, then through a huge set of brass doors with gold handles. The doors didn't look even remotely nice despite the metals they were made from. They were flat and solid, completely blank hulking doors that made an ominous thud as they closed behind Harry and the goblins. Inside was a chair before a desk and another chair. In the corner of the room was a cabinet with a lock, and there were ropes hung beside it.

"Where are we? What are we doing here?" Harry eyed the ropes nervously. He was pointed into one of the chairs and gulped when he saw there were loop holes on the chair just the right size for the ropes.

"Sit down. We are here to test you with veritaserum, just as you asked."

Harry was pushed into the chair then held in place by the two goblin guards. His duvet was kicked out of the floor to make room. The other Goblin went to the cabinet, unlocked it and extracted a glass vial.

"Three drops is more than enough." The goblin walked back to the table, put Harry's file onto the table then pulled the stopped off the vial. There was a small pipette inside the bottle which the goblin lifted out. "Stick out your tongue wizard."

Harry swallowed then did as the goblin said, the hands holding him in place viciously dug in their fingernails threateningly. The three drops were placed on his tongue then the goblin stepped back and put the vial away.

Harry felt a little muzzy-headed. His head felt fuzzy, his mouth tasted like cotton wool and his ears could hear lots of tiny bells chiming. He blinked around blearily. The goblin moved back to the desk, sat in the other seat and pulled out a quill, an ink pot and some parchment from a drawer on the desk.

"Right then, that should be enough time for the veritaserum to take effect. Please state your name."

"Harry James Potter." The goblin's eyes narrowed.

"Hmm. Perhaps it is not working yet. What colour is my quill?"

"Black."

"What colour is the chandelier?" Harry looked up and stared.

"Well the metal bit looks gold, the lights are yellowy white…"

"State your name."

"Harry James Potter." The goblin snarled.

"How many Gringotts keys did you receive?"

"One."

"When and where?"

"On my birthday, July 31st 1991. Rubeus Hagrid gave my key to me here in Gringotts."

"Marius, fetch Gornuk! Korvug, ask Bogrun to bring inheritance paper and all necessary items to perform a blood test." The two guards released Harry and moved out of the room, the door shutting with that stomach clenching thud again.

"What? Why? What?" Harry stuttered to say, his head still feeling strange.

"Mister Potter, please tell me the events in which you lost your key."

So Harry told him, because the veritaserum allowed for no withholding, and the goblin wrote everything down. At the end of the story the goblin went back to the cabinet and retrieved the anti-serum to veritaserum. Once administered Harry felt a lot better, although he had a bit of a headache. The goblin, in a strange show of kindness goblins weren't known for, gave him a glass of water.

"It is very strange Mister Potter how your faithful narrative of events and facts differ from our perfectly kept records. Therefore I can assume one of two things. The first is our records are false which is extraordinarily unlikely, or everything you told me is the truth as you know it."

"The truth as I know it? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like it means. Therefore we shall be conducting a few more tests."

The few more tests turned out to include a ride on a Gringotts cart through a waterfall which the goblin, whose name was Jaxnuk, explained cancelled any enchantments or magical concealments. All eyes were on Harry as he took that test, including from the goblins that had joined them just before the cart ride, Gornuk and Bogrun, as well as the two guards Korvug and Marius. Their eyes narrowed dangerously on Harry all the way back to the room with the brass door. Harry was then made to sit in the chair and have several drops of his blood taken and spread onto parchment.

"What is this testing for?"

"This is testing for more ingrained concealment enchantments too powerful for the waterfall."

That test came out clear. The next test did not though. That test revealed any other enchantments on his person.

"It seems you are under a powerful enchantment which is preventing your metamorphmagus abilities being used. Gornuk, will break it for you, although the enchantment has already nearly broken itself. Something must have weakened it…or perhaps the person who cast it is no longer alive."

"W-what?!"

"Either way, it does not matter. Gornuk, see to it!" Gornuk held out some sort of wooden stick with a bulbous end to it at Harry.

Just as Harry was about to question what was going to happen the stick began to glow red and a wave of nausea and pain slammed through Harry's body sending him to the ground shaking and yelling. It was like he had just run into a wall, only with a lot more pain! His body felt like it was changing; curling in on itself while at the same time stretching out. Then the pain got worse. Agony started in his head. His forehead burned. His skull felt like it was being split in two!

Harry screamed.

Pain tore through his head like bludgers ripping into their target. Harry twisted, moved, anything to escape it. Something hit his shoulder, his side, the side of his head, and pain exploded there too, spreading outwards as it went.

"You failed me! You all failed me!" Harry could not see. He couldn't see anything except black. But he could hear. He could hear the hissing syllables as Voldemort spoke, he could feel the passing of breath vibrate his vocal cords as he uttered words.

"Forgive us, My Lord! The Order…they were…"

"They were far smarter than you! You! My most trusted and skilled Death Eaters outwitted by the dregs of Dumbledore's army!"

"Please! Please My Lord! Forgive us. We did our best!"

"Crucio!"

Screams rang out. Fire tore through Harry, inescapable all-consuming fire and agony.

"Lord Voldemort does not forgive, and he does not forget. Bella, come!"

"Yes my Lord, anything you need My Lord." Came the simpering lyrical voice. Love was paramount in every sound of every word.

"Your arm Bella, I would summon my Inner Circle. It is time we moved forward with our plans."

"Oh yes My Lord! Of course!"

Harry's stomach wrenched violently. The world spun back into place. His ears stopped echoing with the sound of Voldemort's sibilant tones. Bella's gushing adoration fell away and slowly Harry could hear his own breathing.

The pain ebbed away, disappeared. He could see. Goblins were looking down on him. Uneven stones pressed against his cheek, his shoulder, his side, his legs. He was on the floor. There was blood on his nose, he could see it. His scar…his scar had bled.

Harry jerked upright, sitting up straight and furiously wiping at the blood on his forehead trying to get it off. The goblins sneered as they watched but Harry continued using his sleeves to clear away the blood. He probably only smeared it, but at least it wasn't oozing everywhere anymore. When he felt he'd scrubbed enough to make his scar split open again Harry looked to the Goblins who were still staring at him impatiently and dispassionately.

"So uh…" He started, needing something to say but not really knowing what.

"If you would like to sit in your chair then we shall proceed." Jaxnuk drawled and indicated to the chair. Harry pushed himself up and wobbled. His centre of gravity felt really strange now. He stumbled back into the seat and slumped into it. Jaxnuk's squinty eyes scanned over him then glared at Harry's own eyes. "Hm."

"Uh-"

"It seems," the goblin interrupted with a disgusted look, "that while that test gave us many answers it has also given us more questions."

"What questions?" Harry blinked and then corrected himself, rubbing his head again trying to dispel the tension he felt building there. "And what answers?"

"It seems that you are indeed Harry Potter." Well yeah, Harry had told them that! "But that is only because you were made to believe it."

What?!

"What on earth does that mean?! Of course I'm Harry Potter!" Harry protested, however his protestation fell on deaf large pointed ears as the goblins, all of them, shook their heads. They all looked very grave and angry. Harry had been anxious before coming because of everything that had happened, now he felt a foreboding sense of doom. This was bad. Whatever 'this' was, it was bad. Bad for him. It had to be bad if Goblins were upset.

"The enchantments you were under prevented metamorphmagus transformation, locking you in one form."

What? Harry didn't like where this was going.

"You have to be mistaken…"

"We are Goblins. We do not make mistakes." Jaxnuk scowled, his gnarly finger twisting into the wood of the table. "You are a metamorphmagus, the enchantments placed upon you were wearing off because the caster is now deceased. Our magic I'm proud to say has broken the remnants of the enchantment, it also revealed to us a rather despicable truth. Are you aware you are carrying the shard of another beings soul?"

"I'm what?!" Soul? Another soul in him? Like…like a… "A horcrux? I'm a horcrux?"

"Ah, you were not aware. The question is whose soul is it?"

Oh god…oh god no…

"You…" Harry was going to be sick. "You don't want to know."

Jaxnuk screwed up his face disapprovingly but did nod. "Very well. We shall not delve into wizarding business. However, one thing does fall to us to correct."

"What's that?" Harry didn't want to be in Gringotts a moment longer. He was a horcrux?! How?! Why?! Didn't they have to be intentionally made? How many did Voldemort have? HE had the diary, the locket, the ring…and they suspected many more but how many? Seven…seven was Voldemort's number, a magical number. But what else? And if Harry was a horcrux but not Harry Potter then…

"Since you are not the real Harry Potter, the biggest question is who are you? And, judging from your appearance and the details revealed to us in your blood, and as you are under the age of seventeen, who is your guardian? Thus we have a few more tests for you to take. Four drops of blood onto this piece of parchment."

A large dark brown piece of parchment was placed before Harry. It looked revolting. There were circular splodges of dark brown here and there all over the parchment. The parchment curled and bulged in random places like it had gotten wet and dried in peculiar shapes then been squashed flat again.

Blood…the parchment had become wet, wet with blood. Blood turned brown after a while didn't it? Dried old blood was brown?

Harry felt the nausea churn in his belly, he gagged and ran a hand over his face. His face felt different…his hand felt different.

Metamorphmagus…oh god.

He was going to throw up. Heat burned in his throat. His stomach clenched dangerously. He felt lightheaded.

"Four drops of blood, I said." Came Jaxnuk's vapid voice, cutting through the haze of sickness that swamped Harry. Harry blinked at him, both Jaxnuk's and tried to clear his head. The goblin raised one crooked eyebrow and pursed his lips looking the epitome of disapproving. "Will you oblige or shall we help matters along?"

"I…I'll do it." Harry reached a shaky hand out for the athame on the table. Carefully he pressed the sharp end into the tip of his finger, but his shaking was so bad he ended up with a cut and blood oozed out immediately and dropped onto the parchment.

"Only four, I said! Not a thimbleful!" The goblin snarled and pulled the parchment away from Harry. The damage was done though. A puddle of at least six to eight drops had fallen onto the parchment, then spread out along very thin red rivers to create letters. One letter then another, then several all at once in different parts of the parchment. Slowly eight names began to form.

Harry put his finger in his mouth sucking the wound to try to help it heal. It didn't help much; he just got the tangy metallic taste of blood in his mouth instead which did not help his nausea.

"What happens if you put too much blood on it?" He dared to ask. Jaxnuk sneered at him.

"The parchment gets wet." Oh, was that all? "And too many names appear, makes it harder to work out who you are related to most."

"Oh. You can tell from that? How?"

"Every witch or wizard, when opening a vault is required to donate a single drop of blood to Gringotts. It means we can keep track of inheritances in the event of a death without a will, or silly little wizards who don't know their true parentage."

But Harry did know his true parentage! He didn't care who made him, he was Lily and James' child. He had heard their screams as they died. He had Lily's eyes and James' hair and face. He had Lily's sense of what was right, and James' skill on a broom. He was Lily and James Potter's son! He was!

But what if he had parents who were alive? That thought came unbidden, unwelcome, and yet the whisper in the back of his mind may as well have been a scream. All his thoughts came to a halt. All his denials, all his stress, all his terror, everything game screeching to a halt. What if he had family?

What if he had parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins…what if he had people who would want him?!

Harry leaned forwards trying to see the words on the piece of parchment. He was completely torn but the nausea was bubbling hot with excitement and dread now too. He couldn't hold himself back. He was James and Lily's son, but if he had family…he had to know. He had to.

As he leaned forwards his chest bumped into the desk, hurting far more than it should. Distractedly Harry raised his hand to rub at the area and continued to lean forwards.

He rubbed at soft flesh. Soft, plentiful flesh covered in clothes.

Harry froze. His eyes bulged. His mouth hung open, he knew it did. His breathing came to an abrupt halt. Every cell in his body stopped and waited.

His chest had never been soft. It wasn't hard like some of the older boys' chests had been; nor was it like the models on TV that Dudley and Vernon commented about being fake. No, it had never been rock hard. But it had never been soft. And there had never been as much there as before.

Metamorphmagus.

No. No. No way!

No way!

Oh please no.

Harry shut his eyes. There was buzzing in his ears now. He shook his head. No, it couldn't be. He was imagining it. He was paranoid! No way!

If he opened his eyes he'd look down and see his imagination was running wild. It was the stress. It couldn't possibly be what he thought it was. No way! Not possible! Not at all! He just had to look, confirm it. It wasn't real. He was crazy because of the stress.

He'd had a bad day. He was shaken up. Paranoid, imagining things, do-laly-pip! Nuts.

He opened his eyes. He looked down.

No…no not nuts…not nuts at all.

He had breasts.

Black and purple stars swam before his eyes.

His stomach clenched.

"Ah. Parents are Rodophus and Bellatrix LeStrange. That could present a problem."

No bloody way.

The buzzing took over his hearing. Heat erupted from his belly. The world tilted on its axis. His vision blacked out

Harry went crashing down, down, down.