Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all other characters from her books. This was made for nonprofit uses.

Beliefs and Silent Symphonies

Harry blew out the flames, beat the ashes, and wetted the spot scorch marks now marred. He didn't know why he made a fire, using Ron and Hermione's unread letters as kindling, but he knew he had to put it out before the Dursleys smelled smoke or the smoke alarm went off. Harry fell asleep, and woke up groaning. He had had an odd dream, but a wonderful advancement from his usual nightmares, in which he was a bird that everyone tried to shoot down. They eventually captured him, but he had been able to surprise them by becoming the essence of flames, burning the people's hands.

The scarred boy groaned as he remembered the day before's events. Mundungus Fletcher always seemed like an easy-going man to him, a man who knew his wine and beer, but a kind, aloof man all the same. The Fletcher Harry had met yesterday reminded him of Quirrel, or Lockhart, maybe even Wormtail. This Fletcher had disgusted Harry. This Fletcher made Harry start thinking.

At first, all rational thought left Harry. Harry passionately believed so much, yet his beliefs were in tatters. That drunkard of a man had made him wonder why this war was really going on. Sure, he knew the power-crazed demented Lord Voldemort stories, but that couldn't be all. One couldn't be born evil, could they?

Harry only had one belief to grasp on now, and that belief in itself was precarious. This belief was that answers to his questions were in his questions, and that fate bound him to Voldemort if he liked it or not. Now he had to do some serious research on Voldemort. They always said, "know your enemy," right?

Harry stood still, unmoving.

Something was wrong.

Was it a storm? No, it wasn't.

A crash resounded, echoing in the hot summer dust. Harry ran down the stairs, peeking out the window. A car had crashed into the Hibbits' fence. Still, his skin was crawling. Still, something was wrong. Still, he wouldn't admit that to himself. Harry whistled forlornly as he went into the kitchen to start breakfast, ignoring the feeling of spidery veils being sifted through his skin.

Hermione was a rational thinker, a realist one might call her. She was smart, everyone told her, and they thought she would fall in love with a certain redhead. Well, they were almost right on that one. She had fallen in love with a redhead, with reddish-gold locks instead of fire engine red. His smile made her feel lost, his eyes were hazel depths of secrets. So many secrets he held, and his hair was spun sunlight and blood rose in thick tresses.

Everything Hermione felt when she saw him was irrational. She felt as if she was in another world, she felt complete, she felt bitter cold with raging heat. She had never felt this way. She smiled; she couldn't wait until Harry met him. Ron had been angered at Hermione's change from uptight and intellectual to a philosopher of wisdom. She, personally, loved the change. Knowledge in itself doesn't make wisdom. Her meeting him made wisdom. Realizing there is no irrational was wisdom. He still didn't know the true depth of her feelings, but when they spent time together, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he loved someone else if it made him happy, it didn't matter if he didn't share her feelings, if that was the truth, and it didn't matter if she was emotionally hurt because it turned out he didn't like her in the way she liked him. It didn't matter because she loved him and that is the way or love.

Harry was dying. He was sure of it. There was so much pain. All he saw was arched in blood, a vision, and he was floating; arms stretched to his sides, eyes open and glaring at his destiny. He felt as if swords were tearing through his limbs, one by one. Blood was scattered all over the floor. White cold loneliness enveloped his hot body. In the physical world, Harry was lying on the tiled kitchen floor, tears falling down his face, boiling water in a pot on the stove forgotten. The buzzard went off, and the Dursleys stormed downstairs to see an unconscious Harry with a wet spoon still in his hands.

Aunt Petunia did what she never thought she would have to. She told Arabella Figg to contact Dumbledore. Aunt Petunia was not stupid; she had realized Arabella was part of the freakish world. Order members appeared in Aunt Petunia's house, dirtying the floor with mud to her dismay. They picked up the boy, and disappeared in a crack, leaving the Dursleys with no explanation, a half-cooked breakfast, and a wet spoon on the floor.

Harry awoke to the words, "Is the boy okay?" and worried glances. He was happy, and then remembered the implications of the situation, Sirius' death, and the pain, so he vomited. A brunet hovered above him, shoving bitter liquids down his burning throat. He felt better. Harry saw a familiar long white beard.

"Harry, could you tell us what happened?"

"Oh! Well, I felt as if," Harry absently rubbed his neck before continuing, "as if somebody was sifting a net through me. I was cooking breakfast, so I kinda collapsed. It hurt so much. Everything was red, and swords were piecing me. Um... Has Voldemort done anything odd lately?"

"I was just about to tell you," Dumbledore spoke softly, piercing blue eyes watching Harry carefully, "That, whatever it was, was not from Voldemort. I was hoping if you told us what happened, we'd get a better idea about what it could be."

Harry smiled ruefully. All the ordure had to happen to him.

"Well, happy birthday Harry," Dumbledore said softly.

"My birthday?" Harry gasped. Today was his birthday! This was the first time he had forgotten his birthday!

"Well, on the lighter note," Dumbledore continued, eyes now twinkling, "The Order has a surprise or you, and if you feel well enough, we can show you."

Even the brunet, the healer probably, was smiling down encouragingly at him. This made him angry. He was not a child, yet they were still babying him. However, his anger would never be able to be spout out since he was so interested in this "surprise."

Hermione and Ron couldn't wait to see Harry. They couldn't wait to tell him what had happened. It was Mrs.Weasley's idea to throw a birthday party for Harry. She had decided that by surprising him, it would help take Harry's mind from other things, meaning, Sirius' departure. The Weasleys and Hermione had sat around in a room in Grimmauld Place, planning for the party. Lupin had come in, and added some ideas. Ginny had laughed as she carefully helped to make the cake, fiery hair slipping past he cheeks. During the early summer, in rage, Ginny's hair was cut to the lobes of her ears.

"It was all Fred's fault," as she would later explain, "Because he set off one of his Conniving Creatures. Hermione had grown a tail and cat ears, and Ron had grown a fox tail! I was shocked, but who wouldn't be, when Ron's tail looped around Hermione's waist. Someone could've bloody warned me!"

Ginny then walked into a knife holder, and the knives nearly clear cut off most of her hair since magic made their blades become sharp enough to cut a strand of hair without strain.

Mrs. Weasley wasn't too happy with that. She was already angry at Ginny for cursing (how unladylike, this wasn't how I brought you up, young lady!) so as punishment made Ginny keep the haircut. Ginny was upset, for she had been growing her hair for years, but got over it quickly.

"The other part of the plan was to show him the surprise of all surprises, a miracle, and amazing."

"However, the first plan obviously didn't work out. So why should the second plan go into action?"

"Why, you ask?"

"It is because this surprise won't go away, and sooner is better than later."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It's a good surprise. You'll enjoy it too."

"I'm not partial to surprises."

"That will change."

"Well, this 'wonderful' plan, when does it begin?"

"Exactly two minutes from now."

"So we must leave then."

"Actually, we can jut go this way, turn and there."

"There, what?"

"The surprise. Harry is coming along with the rest of the household."

"Wonderful. Now Hermione's parents can be horrified that the werewolf is back."

"You know that it can be a shock. There 'baby' is in this world where they can't protect her, and werewolves really exist."

"I know, I know."

"We should be on our way."

"Fine, I'm coming."

"Oh! Lemon drop, Remus?"

"No thank you.

Dumbledore, Lupin, and were the last to enter the room.

"Here's your birthday surprise." Dumbledore announced to Harry, as doors were opened to reveal two parent, one adult, and four teenagers.

One of the parents had a reddish gold mane of hair, cut just above her chin. Her hair was thick and layered. Next to her stood a tall man, with hazel eyes. His hair was messy, thick, but short, and he wore thin, silver, glasses. A man with a full face and long dark hair pulled in a loose ponytail with a large smile on his face and a mustache stood above the youngest teenager. She had messy dark red hair that was pulled in a loose bun with strands falling out. Her eyes were hazel as well. The next teenager was a boy. He had light green eyes with streaks of gray, almost hazel, but not quite there yet, and a round face like his father's. His stature was also like his fathers, and he seemed confident. The next teenager was also a boy, with light hazel eyes and a mop of reddish gold hair. It was fairly thick, but neat. The last stranger was the oldest of the teenagers. He was smiling, but he seemed to feel superior to those in the room. He had neat, thick hair and dark hazel eyes. He seemed a bit troubled.

All the strangers were lavishly dressed, and the man with the moustache was almost outlandishly so, as his robes were dark yellow with scarlet lining. He had a lavender hat atop his head, with a yellow feather elegantly coming out of it.

"Sirius!" yelled Remus. He ran to the outlandish man and hugged him without abandon. Everyone else was completely confused. Harry was especially confused. The man Remus had called Sirius looked nothing like the Sirius he knew.

Sirius had long hair as well, and dark brown eyes like the man before them. However, Sirius was slightly gaunt, and always looked like a fugitive.

As Hagrid said, "Af'er that, a man will ne'r be the same. I be, if a man ac'ually escaped, they be no mistakin' him. He'll stand out, as if marked, 'cause no one is the same af'er that. No one."

This man was exultant and proud. He had an easy smile and no shadows in his eyes. Whoever this man was, it wasn't Harry's Sirius.

Remus continued to shout.

"James! Lily! And I'll be, these are you're munchkins!"

"I'm Prongs Jr.," corrected the boy that looked a lot like the man with the glasses in every aspect but his face structure.

"Well, actually, I'm Alexander, but please call me Alex," the boy continued.

Harry felt a stab in his heart. His eyes widened. Prongs Jr. Then it hit him full force, but he didn't respond like Remus. If anyone weren't watching the "surprise" they would've noticed Harry's corner of the room slightly darkened. That person would've also heard the boy murmuring, "That can't be. I just can't be. They're dead and even if they weren't how did this... Why did they leave me?"

Harry's heart was shattering. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair! It seemed these people were his parents, but that couldn't be because his parents were dead. Yet... they had gone on to leave their lives without him. Joyfully, it looked like, and they had children! Oh, that hurt him so bad. He looked just like his father, or that's what everyone always said. Obviously, he didn't. He didn't look like anyone; he was just a bastard child.

They were all right. Uncle Vernon, Dudley's gang, and most of all Dudley. They told him his parents never wanted him; they were right. Harry could feel something in his heart twisting, plunging, and dying. There was so much pain, so much pain and hopelessness. They had lied. All of them. This time, however, he was going to listen to the explanation. However, at this point, Harry felt that nothing would make him feel better.

He soon realized all eyes were on him. He looked up straight into James' and Lily's eyes and spoke.

"You shouldn't have lived." Lily burst into tears.

"What did you say to my mother?" The oldest teenager angrily said, pulling Harry up by his shirt. Harry realized, to his dismay, that this boy who must be younger than him was a few inches taller than him.

"Our mother." Harry said looking at the ground.

"What?" the boy snarled.

"She is our mother."

The boy faltered, but continued, "She may be by blood but..."

"But?" Harry challenged.

"You and I know it. She'll never be your real mother."

He loosened up on Harry's shirt, and let him fall to the ground. But the words echoed in his mind, "She'll never be your real mother."

"Nathan!" the man who was "Sirius" said. "Stop that! This is your brother, your older brother. He's my godson. Stop it."

After that, everyone was expecting Harry to run up to Sirius and give him a hug.

After that, Harry walked over to Dumbledore and held a wand to his own throat.

"Explain." Harry said softly. "Or you're tool will be...'incapable' of doing its job."

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Harry didn't yield.

"Well, it began like this. I didn't know your parents and Sirius were alive and prospering until yesterday if it makes you feel any better. We did every test, and under veritaserum there story was valid. Harry, your parents were nearly dead, but still alive. A Healer saw them, and took to healing them. Then they fled to America disguising as muggles and changing their whole identity. Well, you can see they-"

"Mated," Harry supplied, "and quite a few times." James and Lily blushed.

"Yes," Dumbledore continued, "if you must put it that way. Then Sirius was nearly dead. He staged his death with a Reem Receptor next to him. It makes a copy of that person. A dark object, it is used to clone a person completely and utterly, along with their magic. He fled to America and met the Potters there."

Harry lowered his wand. "I don't blame you, Professor Dumbledore." Then Harry sighed, saying softly, "I never did like surprises. Something always bothered me about them, even when I was little."

Please Review! This story was supposed to be a revamped version of my previous story, "True Revolution." However, it is changed in so many ways I am not sure even some small details hold true. I want your utmost opinion of my story, my updating counts on it. The more reviews I get, the quicker I update. I just need motivation.

-Verdesilath