Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, or any other copyrighted/Patented item mentioned or used in this story. They all belong to their respective owners. Also, I am writing this purely for pleasure, and do not gain profit in any way. This applies to all parts of The Hero Within.

A/N:

This chapter has been somewhat rewritten, nothing too major. Just a few amendments and an expansion of the whole scar debate.

Well, this is my go at the whole Wrong BoyWhoLived idea. Dumbledore will be GOOD in the fiction, so there ya go. Also, this is unbetaed, so inform me of any mistakes and I'll fix them. Read and Review, and give me your ideas. Cheers.

The Hero Within

Chapter 0

The Choice

Godric's Hollow, October 31st, 1994

Albus Percival Wufric Brian Dumbledore hated his job sometimes, he really did. Ever since the day he had defeated Grindlewald, the world of magic had turned to him to fix their problems, to make all the hard decisions, so they wouldn't have to.

And now, in what had once been a home, he would have to make another decision. Another choice.

He was weary of choices.

Three innocent babies lay before him, in a rickety wooden crib ,covered in a red and gold blanket( of course) , surprisingly intact amidst the ruined room. One of those babies had defeated one of the darkest wizards in a thousand years. Lord Voldemort.

But which one? That was the question. And Albus wasn't sure he had an answer.

Was it Terrence Grey, with his blue eys, brown hair and half-helix scar?

Or perhaps it was Henry Potter, with his reddish-black hair and serpentine "S" scar?

Or, maybe, just maybe, it was little Harry Potter, with his emerald eyes, and that jagged lightning-bolt upon his forehead?

Three children. Three of four candidates for a prophecy.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Simple. Someone or something is "coming" and he has the potential to best the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, that didn't help him decide who to pick.

Born to those who have thrice defied them…

Again, Simple. The "parents" of the One had defied Voldemort three times in some manner before. But then the Longbottoms, the Potters, and the Greys had all fought or escaped Voldemort three times in one way or another before.

Born as the seventh month dies…

Simple, yet again. The One would come as the seventh month ended. All three children had been born around the end of July, the seventh month of the Gregorian calendar. All three children still fitted the prophecy, unless the seventh month referred to another calendar, or a specific event.

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…

Assuming "marked" meant in a physical manner, the three boys scars still meant all three were potential candidates. Most unhelpful.

And he will have the power the Dark lord knows not…

Even more unhelpful. Presumably, this "power" is what protected the child, but without knowing what the power was, then had no way to identify said child.

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

This line was not even relevant to identifying the one. Although, assuming, Voldemort survived, that meant the child would need to be trained in order to best Voldemort, as this line suggested that he would never be able to truly live until he was gone.

Albus sighed, and examined the three boys. One had managed the impossible feat of surviving the Killing Curse, without the Love magic, he believed could block it.

Choices. Choices.

He leaned down and began to examine the scars. Henry's and Terrence's were riddled with light magic, and Harry's with tainted magic. What did that mean though? Albus' head was buzzing with ideas, his old mind dragging up everything it knew of magical theory.

An answer eluded him, but if he had to guess, he would say it had been Harry.

"Well, Headmaster?" Albus turned to see the tired face of Thaddaeus Grey, father of Terrence, his eyes cold and calculating. I wonder what he's thinking.

"Which one is it?" Albus suddenly realised he did not need to see into Thaddaeus' mind. The answer was obvious. He wanted the fame and prestige being the father of Voldemort's vanquisher would bring him. How very…Pureblood.

"Alas, Thaddaeus , I cannot tell for sure." At this, Thaddaeus glared and snapped; "What do you mean, you can't tell?"

At this, James perked up and growled: "Exactly that, it could be any child!"

Oh, James, not you too…

Albus sighed. Many Purebloods would say muggles were weak, and selfish, but were they so different?

"Curse scars, like these" Albus explained; "are caused by dark magic."

Albus stroked his beard, deep in thought. Then: "I will contact some of my acquaintances , Nicholas may be able shed some light on the matt-"

"There will be no need for that, Albus" An elderly voice spoke. Albus groaned silently before turning to look at the owner of the voice. He didn't look dissimilar to Albus himself; Long flowing robes, a thick beard tucked neatly into his belt, and piercing brown eyes.

Tiberius Brutus Menteura. One of the few Albus could call an intellectual equal. Indeed, he had achieved many of the things Albus himself had. Bonded to a Phoenix, a Grand Mastery and an Apprenticeship to Nicholas Flamel.

" Good Evening, Lord and Lady Potters, Lord Grey" He said nodding respectfully towards the two couples. "So, what happened here then?" Albus watched as the Potters and Grey explained what had happened tonight.

Albus was wary of the wizard, not because of the fact he was one of the few who could challenge him on equal footing, but because of the fact that when you looked into his eyes, sometimes, just sometimes, there was a scheming look, thinking, plotting, planning.

Just like Gellert.

Albus sighed again. No come could come of his presence. He just knew it.

Tiberius walked up to the crib, and examined the children, his wand drawn and muttering words in broken Latin. He nodded then stowed his wand in his robes, before turning to the expectant parents, who despite their ashen faces and the harrowing night leaned forward in anticipation.

"Henry's and Terrence's scars are imbued with light magic, a sign of the Power He Knows Not" Tiberius said simply.

Lily Evans-Potter finally spoke : "But you're not sure which one it came from?" Albus frowned, surely Lily, the brightest witch of her generation, could see the flaws in his logic? Or had she been blinded by greed as well?

Oh, Lily….

"Indeed"

Albus chose that moment to step in: "Why would a curse scar have light magic in it? And why would they both have light magic scars?"

Tiberius, however simply dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"One of the scars is imbued with residue magic from the Dark Lord's defeat."

To Albus' logical mind, Tiberius' theory made next to no sense; "Then why is Harry's scar imbued with dark magic?"

Sometimes, a few drops of logic could do wonders in the impossible world of magic.

Tiberius, however, had other ideas: " Residue from the Dark Lord's destruction." he said simply.

"Residue from-"Albus echoed disbelievingly. What was he playing at? Surely Tiberius knew his reasoning was faulty? Then Albus saw Tiberius' eyes and instantly he knew. Tiberius knew what he was doing, and continuing to spout half-sense and nonsense regardless.

But why? Suddenly it occurred to him the exact nature of this discussion. The vanquisher of Voldemort was being decided, here, now, and Tiberius was twisting the situation to his own ends. But for what? He already had fame and fortune, and was respected in all corners of the wizarding world.

For some reason, Tiberius wanted to use the Chosen One to his own ends. What those ends were, Albus did not know. But he knew they would be nefarious in nature.

The group stood in pregnant silence, broken only by the gurgles and giggles of the children.

Albus occupied himself by examining the ruins of the dust and ash filled room. The walls, which before had been a calming emerald green, were now scorched and blackened, permeated with tiny blast holes caused by shrapnel from the explosion. The wardrobe was now a twisted heap of warped wood. The ceiling had largely collapsed, revealing the shining moon in the almost-cloudless sky, amidst a sea of sparkling sliver stars.

Thaddaeus was the first to break the silence; "I bet it was Terrence, he's far more power-"

"Oh, shut up, Gray, you don't know what you're talking about."

"I know a damn sight more than you, Potter!"

" The hell you do!"

"Gentleman, Gentleman" Tiberius injected quickly. Instantly, both adults stopped bickering, and turned to him with rapt attention. Albus frowned, the looks on James' and Thaddaeus' face were somewhat unsettling. No parent should have such a greed-filled look, not when their own offspring were involved.

"I believe I have a solution."

Albus turned to him in surprise. No good can come of this…

Tiberius strode purposely to the crib, and scooped up Henry and Terrence, leaving Harry alone and confused, but seemingly unconcerned, contentedly sucking his thumb. Wrapping the two children in conjured blankets, he wordlessly handed John and Terrence to their fathers.

Albus eyes the scene wearily, no matter who was chosen, one would be worshipped as a hero, fame and fortune thrust upon him, constantly being exploited by politicians, hounded by the press. The others, condemned to a life in the shadows of anonymity, and from what he had seen from the parents tonight, quite possibly neglected by their own flesh and blood.

Albus glanced at Harry, largely forgotten , but largely oblivious, the dream and bane of infancy. Somehow, Albus knew that Harry would suffer most of all, and vowed to do everything he could to prevent that.

Albus sighed, and dragged his senses back to the matter at hand, wondering what Tiberius' "solution" would be. What child would be chosen?

What Tiberius said was…unexpected, to say the least.

" I give you Henry Potter and Terrence Gray, the Children Who Lived!"

Tiberius, what have you done?

A/N:Hopefully, the chaps will be longer than this. R&R Cheers.