Chapter Three

Albus Dumbledore office was more than crowded when they got there, it was packed. There was the Minister surrounded by Aurors, a floating body, Harry Potter, an oddly old looking Moody, Professor McGonagall, and even surprisingly enough Ron and Hermione. The Minister was insisting that the prisoner should be kissed immediately and Harry should have driven it away with a Patronus, Adris immediately wondered what form the real Harry's took. Thinking about it he wondered what his Patronus was now, still a stag.

"He should be given a trial immediately Cornelius. Voldemort has come back and you can't deny it, especially with Barty Crouch Jr. as evidence," Dumbledore insisted.

"He can't be back," Fudge hissed in reply, "The people would panic, my ratings would fall. Mr. Potter is just a misguided child that wants attention, more than he already receives."

"Excuse me, Minister. But I was there too. I saw it as well. The truth is so horrifyingly fantastic that Mr. Potter couldn't have made it up. I just now gave my statement to the Daily Prophet." Adris could see Fudge's jaw drop, while Dumbledore's mouth was twisted in half smile and half grimace. He hadn't had control of a word he had said. Snape almost smiled, but he had larger things to worry about.

"If You-Know-Who was back he would have called his Death Eaters as you claim, but Snape is still here. Don't think I had forgotten you were one of those scum even if you were pardoned," Fudge spit nastily.

Harry stepped forward letting Adris breathe a little easier let the Savior handle it. "Minister, look at Mr. Crouch's arm he said pulling up his sleeve. The mark has darkened completely; you knew something odd happened when the mark didn't completely disappear after he 'died'." It was so odd for Adris to watch himself, or what he thought he should look like and not be in control. As if someone had been Polyjuiced to be him, except it had been the other way around.

After a final round of arguments Fudge and the Aurors took away the prisoner to be put in a holding cell. Dumbledore proceeded to try and get rid of another half including Mrs. Weasley, Ron Hermione, and Professor McGonagall who was having none of it.

"Albus, I must insist what is going on," McGonagall said at her most stern, "This is not my student Harry Potter but an imposter. Surely you haven't been taken in."

Adris started laughing hysterically that had been what he had thought until the magic had hit him after reaching his real age. He barely noticed as Professor Snape gave him a calming potion. Everything was just so ridiculous.

Dumbledore began his explanation of the safety measure of a double, clearly steering the conversation away from the fact that it made him a target. Ron to Adris's disgust just went along with it as did Mrs. Weasley though she looked a bit more concerned.

Adris his giggles and then hiccups finally faded away interrupted before the Headmaster could get too ahead of himself. "But the real Harry Potter is coming back to Hogwarts next year after living with his aunt this summer."

Harry was startled, "No, of course not. Why would I go stay with the muggles? I need to continue my training at home."

Albus in complete agreement nodded, "Yes, dear boy, I'm afraid that it is you who must go back to the Dursleys." Hermione was shocked. Adris laughed in his face.

"Don't call me dear boy Albus or I won't know who you're talking about. You have absolutely no control over me. I'm in no way related to the Dursley and I'm not fucking Harry Potter or am I going to pretend to be any longer. Harry can strengthen his own blood ward this year, if they even exist." Everyone was shocked, probably too shocked to even tell him off for swearing at the Headmaster, not to mention calling him by his first name. But he wasn't even a student here. Turning just before he left Adris said to the real Harry Potter, "Good luck being me, it won't be what you used to." His voice had been frigid and Adris could feel the cold air flowing around him. He headed to Gryffindor tower; it was time to get his stuff, or what his trunk could spare.

At the base of the stairs Adris heard running footsteps behind him. Turning he smiled as he saw it was Hermione and Ron running after him. They finally caught up with him in front of the fat lady's portrait. "Harry … Adris what are you doing? Yelling at Professor Dumbledore like that … though I do understand trying to send you back to the Dursley's." Hermione trailed off. Adris looked from her to Ron judging his attitude as well.

"You can't leave mate. We need to teach Harry Potter about Hogwarts and become friend with him life before, like we are," Ron said Adris' disgust curdled inside him at Ron's attitude. His slavish need to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, his desire for fame, it sickened him that their friendship meant so little to him He should have known. Ron hadn't believed him about the Goblet of Fire either, and he had been Harry Potter then. Hermione elbowed him but he just looked confused at why he had deserved it. Adris was happy that Hermione was still with him.

Hermione took over as they walked through the dormitory towards the boy's dorm staircase and his old room. "I understand why you angry Harry, no I mean Adris. That's exactly what you have to be angry over but the other, the real Harry needs our help to fit in. What if people other than McGonagall think he's a fake? The public needs him, we need him. Harry explained that he is the one prophesized to defeat Vol… You-Know-Who," she changed at Ron's jump of terror. "People we can't explain the truth too."

"And what is the truth Hermione, that two different people have been raised as Harry Potter. I don't have time to worry about Harry Potter Hermione; I have to worry about who Adris Hasteur is." While they continued arguing ignoring Ron's speculation about what the real Harry Potter would be like playing Quiditch, Adris sorted through his trunk. He left all the clothing, most of the books except for his well-thumbed Quiditch through the Ages. He then piled up other little things that meant a lot to him that he didn't use too often, Hagrid's flute, Dobby's socks, and Mrs. Weasley's first Weasley sweater. The only other things he really wanted to take was his Firebolt for sentimental reasons, but it would be too odd for Harry not to have it. The other things he really wanted were the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak, but neither of those belonged to him. Nothing in here really id except for a few presents, just before he closed the trunk he took out his, or rather Harry's photo album.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked scarred. She had known how much the photo album had meant to him. To realize it was all fake hit him again as he flipped through it. Reaching their picture's he took them all out. They were his memories; the real Harry would just have to make do with stories.

With everything put in his new trunk once more shrunken in his pocket Harry gave one last glance at a questioning Ron and a conflicted Hermione. Quietly he explained the biggest betrayal to Hermione, "They used a spell to change my personality and magic to be more like Harry's. I don't even know who I am anymore. Bye guys, maybe I'll see you at school next year. Write if you want, I'll write back." Adris left quickly, he had one quick question for Professor McGonagall then he was gone.

Seeing her conveniently as he exited the tower he walked straight toward her. McGonagall looked like she had expected the opposite, "Mr. Hasteur, while this situation is beyond difficult, swearing at teachers is forbidden. 10 point from Gryffindor."

Adris smiled sadly, "Professor, I'm not a student here you can't take points." Her mouth almost caught open, she finally nodded. "I hope to see a Hogwarts acceptance of a home schooled child in a month," he asked. That was what he really wanted to know. Could he come back to Hogwarts as himself? It was still the only home he had ever known.

"Of course, Mr. Hasteur. You will have to take a few tests to see what level you are at but everything should be fine." Stifling a groan, he had though being in the triwizard tournament got him out of finals.

Smiling ruefully Adris replied, "I might surprise you yet, I have a lot of studying I plan to do this summer."

"Yes," she replied with a serious nod at his cane. He had wondered why Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed it.

Harry, no Adris, finally took his last step off Hogwarts property. He might not know who he was yet but he was certain to find out. His first free summer was waiting for him.

#$%^&*

Three days later, Surrey, Number 4 Privet Drive

Harry was in over his head. Yesterday at Kings Cross he had thought his relatives were a bit abrupt, rude even referring to him as boy and not helping him with his trunk. He had left the previous Harry's owl at school which had thought was convenient since she wouldn't obey a word he said, but now he was deeply regretting that. He wanted now, needed to call for help. At seven o' clock that morning he had been woken with a pounding on his door and told to make breakfast. At first he hadn't understood at first, he hadn't slept much since the poor excuse for a bed he was using was awful, it had reminded him of his survival training in the woods. But up he had gotten only to find himself in an unfamiliar kitchen not knowing what to cook or even how to cook it. He had made soup before and reheated things with magic but he didn't know how to work these muggle devices not to mention he didn't really know how to cook anything. All his previous attempts at giving his adopted parents breakfast/teachers breakfast in bed had all ended up in pillars of smoke.

He still didn't really know how Dumbledore had convinced him to come here even if it was only for two weeks. Blood wards were useful since they provided extended protection even when outside the wards but still. He needed help, and he didn't have a bloody owl. He was starting to understand why the girl, Hermione had given him worried look when he had gone off with his relatives. Wait, she had given him a telyfone number, a muggle means of communication. He just needed to type in the number and call for help. Running upstairs he got the number and dialed it in. It didn't work something about dialing one before the number. He tried again looking around hoping his relatives hadn't noticed he wasn't cooking yet. Finally it began to ring, he had almost thought the thing didn't work, "Hello, this is Hermione speaking," he could hear clearly through the telyfone.

"Hermione, its Harry, Harry Potter. You must send for help, I don't think I can keep up the deception that I am the same person. Send for Dumbledore, send for anyone. I don't know how to cook breakfast." Suddenly the phone was ripped from his hand and he was back handed into the wall.

"Boy what the hell do you think you doing? You're a freak; don't talk to other freaks with my phone. Where is breakfast? You stupid lazy boy, talking to you girlfriend instead of cooking, you won't be getting any breakfast or lunch today," his uncle was bright red and partially purple. Harry raised his hand to the bruise on the side of his face. That had been totally unexpected. How had the previous Harry lived here? Had he been … abused? Abused living his life?

Shaken but otherwise fine Harry stood and responded, "I don't know how to cook."

"Do you think I dumb boy? You've been cooking breakfast since you were five years old. Or did the freaks do something to you to make you forget? You know the rules."

"No, I don't know the rules."

Vernon was gaping; this brat was standing up to him. He hit the brat up the side of his face again and then stuffed him in his cupboard. "And you won't get out until you've seen some sense. Freak!" It was dark, but Harry could make out a few childish drawings on the walls. What the hell was going on? Hopefully the girl would send for help otherwise he would be in serious trouble. If only he could use magic, but this house didn't have strong enough wards to disguise it from the Ministry. He didn't want to go through the trouble of explaining it to a disciplinary committee.

But, maybe, if they didn't let him out in a few hours he would do it. That at least would let the headmaster know something was wrong.