Sullen Fate

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer; No, I do not own HP.

Chapter 4: Puzzles and Regrets

"Never fear shadows. They simply mean there is a light shinning somewhere nearby."

Hidden behind towers of books and parchment, a tall lanky boy with tired red-rimmed eyes was huddled into a tight shivering ball. His breathing quickened ever so slightly as yet another bookworm studied his 'hideaway' with interest before his numerous notice-me-not charms forced their eyes away. Resisting the urge to sigh, the boy leaned tiredly against the cool wall.

Ten hellish days since it had happened.

His hazel eyes, which were normally warm and open, were dark with pain. It had been little more than a week since his world had crashed, burned, and ignited into a hell-worthy cascade of flames and pain. Nate bowed his head in shame as he recalled the 'final battle.'

Everything had gone according to plan.

Or so he had said.

While Dumbledore and Voldemort dueled in a battle of otherworldly strength, he, the prophesized child was to find a chip in Voldemort's armor with his...talent and attack. Nate shook his head in self-disgust, as memory after memory of Dumbledore insisting that he join the war effort appeared in his mind.

'I should have known better than to take his words at face value,' he thought sullenly. 'Nothing is ever so simple.'

He had been so blind then.

So naive.

Nate's nails dug deeper into his skin as he forced himself to face his memories. It wasn't suppose to happen like this. Voldemort was suppose to be evil a sadistic murderer, a scoundrel! He was the bane of the wizarding world, the object of terror among millions. He had believed in Dumbledore words then. He had believed that a...monster like Voldemort wasn't suppose to exist, and that it was his duty to exterminate.

But...

Nate closed his eyes in pain. 'But, I hadn't expected him to be so...human.' He could still see, in his mind's eye, the Dark Heir running up towards their battlements with a crazed and fearful expression upon his face. Fear not for himself, but rather for his...father. A man, who had haunted Nate's nightmares since his brother had been ruthlessly murdered, that he had hated for a good part of his life. Nate shivered slightly as he recalled the horrified yet strangely...betrayed glint in the boy's golden brown eyes as his father was struck down by an purple jet of light.

Dead as a doornail.

Nate shook his head in shame. He hadn't understood then why the boy's reaction had affected him so profoundly. After all, the Dark Heir was a force of Evil was he not? The spawn of the Darkest Lord of a century and a Slytherin to boot. He should have felt joy and perhaps triumph at his so-called victory against Voldemort.

But he didn't...no couldn't.

After all, he was no hero, no knight in shinning armor. He was a murderer of the worse possible cloth - the kind that was cherish. Nate's eyes darkened with bitterness. Why couldn't anyone else see it? Why couldn't anyone see what he had done? See that he destroyed the lives of a boy and his father.

Nate sighed softly.

He didn't know why it bothered him, but it did. But the moment his curse had struck Voldemort straight in the chest, he had seen...strangely enough, the Dark Heir's eyes change colors. Bright, terse golden brown eyes shifted ever so slightly in the light until they melted into a gleaming pool of emerald green.

And then, he had froze. Froze in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights.

His parents, Dumbledore, and the rest of the Order had put it off as disbelief and shock, seeing as how after all it is not every day one gets one up on Voldemort.

But, that was a lie.

The boy, the Dark Heir's eyes reminded him of someone.

Those forest green orbs, filled with fierce anger and pain, resembled those of someone he'd long thought dead. Someone who he'd loved dearly for the first few years of his life, before he had been snatched away - murdered ruthlessly by Voldemort.

Harry. His brother.

Harry James Potter.

Nate shook his head is mounting disbelief and hope. It couldn't possibly be him could it? His parents had told him ever since he was young that Voldemort had killed Harry at the Quidditch World Cup. He was told that Sirius and Remus had both seen the killing curse strike Harry full on the head.

So it couldn't be him right?

He chewed his lips thoughtfully. But those eyes, goddammit. He knew those eyes. Over time his memory of Harry had slowly blurred until he could only bring up a few fuzzy images of what his brother had looked like. But there was one thing that he had never forgotten, nor would ever forget - Harry's eyes.

When he was younger he had always wondered why Harry's eyes was so...different then everyone else's. Dad's eyes were always warm, sparkling with a hint of mischief. Mum's eyes were dark with compassion and purposeful. And Harry...whose eyes he'd inherited their Mum looked...sad. His emerald green eyes were always dark with an eternal sadness. He hadn't understood then, at the tender age of three, what was wrong with Harry. And even today, he did not know.

But if anything, he did know this.

He saw the same heartbreaking sadness and pain in the Dark Heir's eyes as he watched Voldemort's soul shattered. He had frozen then, not because of fear or pure elation...but because he remembered.

It had to be Harry.

It had to.

And with a determined glint in his eyes, Nate pushed his way out of his refuge and removed his Notice-Me-Not-Charms. He didn't know how to explain it, but he knew somehow deep down that the Dark Heir and his long lost brother were somehow connected. They had to be.

And with that said, he quickly marched his way out of the Library, his eyes flashing with determination. After everything the headmaster had put him through the past year, the man owned him the truth at the very least.

Nate lifted his chin in stubborn determination.

'One way or another...'

Hospital Wing (Private Room)

Groaning in despair, Alex allowed his head to fall with a heavy 'thunk' upon the thick tome he was reading. He'd been searching for hours and have yet to come up with even a single bit of information. But then, he supposed, it was Hogwarts - home to the bloody Light Lord and champion of Muggleborns; obviously, it would be lacking a bit in the Dark Arts department.

'If only I could go back,' he thought tiredly, as an image of his father's private library floated across his mind. With hundreds of tomes of Dark Arts and Lost Arts, Alex was positive that he'd be able to find a way to resurrect his father. But, much to his dismay, the Aurors had managed to draw out the location of their fortress from one of their Death Eater recruits (seeing as his father's secrecy spell ended the moment he disappeared). So now, he was fairly sure that their fortress was swarming with Aurors and Order members. 'And the last thing I want to do is accidentally tip them off about the more...secret rooms there," he thought grumpily.

Yes, it'd definitely be more prudent to wait out the storm.

Alex used his arm to cushion his head as he resumed his search. This tome, The Life of Lord Falen, detailed the life and history of one of history's greatest Dark Lords, after Slytherin of course. His father had mentioned, rather dryly, during their history lessons, that while Lord Falen had managed to develop a few theories regarding immortality, the man had died in a very pathetic accident well before he'd been able to test them out. Which then, in his father's eyes, marked him as a fool, abet a powerful fool.

And then, he had asked, quite curiously what these theories were.

'Horcruxes,' Voldemort had said, after giving Alex a measuring glance. 'Horcruxes are the key to mind, body, and the soul.' And with those mysterious words, his father had left, leaving him staring in confusion.

Alex sighed, as he gingerly fingered his emerald necklace, his face scrunched up as he tried to recall the time he received his necklace.

"A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul," his father explained quietly. "You split your soul and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged.

And after his little speech, his father had entrusted him with a Horcrux - one for him to guard and protect throughout his life. Alex leaned back against his chair as he stared down blankly at the emerald necklace.

It was all here - the clues that he needed to resurrect his father...but, Merlin, he just couldn't figure it out! He had just enough background information about Horcruxes to start his search; however, beyond that, he knew nothing. He didn't know how to construct a Horcrux nor how to awaken its soul shard.

Alex bit his lip in frustration.

'There has to be some information in this bloody book!' he thought in annoyance. 'By Merlin! The man developed the theory of Horcruxes! Surely there's got to be some clue in this book...'

With a dark frown and a determined glint in his emerald green eyes, he forced himself to resume his search. After all, he only a few more days left before his charade as Madam Pomfrey would come to an end. He had told Dumbledore, rather sternly, when he impersonated the med-witch, that the Dark Heir had fallen into a magical coma due to shock over his father's apparent death.

And Dumbledore, the bloody fool and advocate of the power of love, fell for it, head over heels.

Bloody Idiot.

Alex sighed, as he scanned through the book once again.

'I'll find a way to bring you back, Father. I promise.'

Headmaster's Office

Nicholas,

We caught the Dark Heir a few days ago and he is currently in our custody. I will elaborate upon the matter in the case this letter intercepted; however, I feel that there is something strange about the boy. And I would greatly appreciate it if you'd help me crack this mystery.

Regards,

Albus

After penning the letter, Dumbledore rolled up the parchment and beckoned Fawkes over. "Deliver this to Nicolas, please," he said lightly, giving the phoenix a nice scratch behind the neck. "That's a good boy."

Fawkes cooed warmly before disappearing in a flash of fire.

Dumbledore sighed as he returned his attention back to his research. He honestly didn't know what it was, but even with the wizarding world at peace, he couldn't help but feel...anxious. At first he'd written it off as after-war-adrenaline, but Merlin, even now, days after the final battle, he still couldn't quell his unease.

Turning his attention back to the fire, Dumbledore chewed his lip thoughtfully as he contemplated the events that happened just days ago. Young Nate had defeated Voldemort just as the prophecy had predicted...

Or had he?

The prophecy roughly stated that "the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord" was "a boy of gold and emerald, with blood so slight, as second in line, of history's past legacy..." He had believed, then, that Nate was the prophecy child. After all, the Potters were the Heirs of Gryffindor and as the second child, Nate indeed fit the third prerequisite of the prophecy. However...the second prerequisite puzzled him. What could that damn seer have meant by "a boy of gold and emerald?"

Gold could be a symbolic representation of Nate's heart - one as pure and untarnished as gold. And green, wasn't that the shade of Harry's eyes? He had know ever since he'd first met the lad that Nate cherished and loved his brother above all. And after all, wasn't it his love for his brother that allowed him to battle and cast the killing blow upon Voldemort?

Or was it something else entirely?

The boy, the Dark Heir, had green eyes, Dumbledore recalled dimly. And during the final battle, he had seen the boy's golden brown eyes shift into glittered emerald greens.

Had he been wrong? Was the Dark Lord truly not gone?

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with worry. The Dark Heir also, ironically enough, fit the parameters of the prophecy. As Voldemort's heir, young Alex was also "second in line of history's past legacy." Salazar Slytherin was praised and worshiped for his achievements in the field of magic as well as his benevolent work towards the pureblood community. It was merely a matter of opinion whether Slytherin was an essential player in history. But it couldn't be, could it? He had seen how devastated the boy was by his father's death.

And if anything, he was certain that the boy would never raise his wand against his father.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples in frustration, dimly wondering why his life was always so convoluted. Why oh why couldn't the wizarding world just stay in one happy piece and leave him alone? He sighed in frustration at the sound of pounding footsteps climbing up the stairs.

'Who now?'

And, to his infinite dismay, one extremely angry and determined Nate Potter slammed into the room without even a hint of apology upon his face.

'Why speak of the Devil.'

"Why Mr. Potter," greeted Dumbledore, carefully masking his surprise, as he beckoned the boy towards the seat before him. "It is a pleasure to see you again. How have you been holding up?"

Nate gave the headmaster a glare, causing the older man to blink in surprise. "Fine," he said guardedly. "Not that you'd care."

Dumbledore looked taken aback, at the boy's snide comment. Ever since he'd met the boy, Nate had always been a respectful, abet rather quiet child. He had never heard the boy speak rudely against anyone before! He had believed the boy was a Hufflepuff through and through!

"I beg your pardon?" queered Dumbledore, after recovering from his shock.

Nate turned his head slowly and met Dumbledore's eyes. "You heard me, headmaster," he said quietly. "I won't waste my breath repeating it."

The headmaster was lost. "But Nate, what are - "

"The war is over, Headmaster," he said coldly, raising his voice over Dumbledore's protests. "And I want to know the truth. The whole truth that you've kept from me all these years..."

Dumbledore, if possible, looked even more puzzled. "Nate, I have no id-"

"...in the pretence of it being 'for my own good'" he declared, tilting his chin up defiantly. Nate's lips trembled, as he tried to suppress his emotions. "I have done everything you've ordered me to do, sir. I've fought Death Eaters, garnered support from my fellow classmates, and even killed, no, murdered Voldemort." Nate flinched slightly at the last statement, but nonetheless continued. "So don't you dare tell me I'm too young to know the truth."

"About?" questioned Dumbledore, trying to figure out what in the name of Merlin he was being accused of hiding.

Nate's glare grew stony. "About my brother, of course."

A soft hissed escaped Dumbledore's lips at the statement. Harry. Of course, everything these days seemed to revolve around about the long deceased boy. First the Dark Heir showed up, looking like an example replica of what Harry Potter would have resembled had he lived. Then, James and Lily had seen the boy and had believed for a few seconds that the boy was indeed their lost child. And now, Nate was asking about his brother.

He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of deja-vu.

"What do you wish to know?" he asked evenly, forcing himself to return to the topic at hand.

Nate chewed on his lip for a moment. "Everything," he said softly. "I want to know everything about my brother." He raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's serious glaze. "But first, I know that you have ordered my parents not to reveal anything about my brother, for some unknown reason" he added, as a scowl grew upon his face. "And I want you to revoke that order."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "What makes you think I would do such a thing?"

The boy crossed his arm defiantly. "Well, you are Albus Dumbledore," he stated. "You are the unofficial leader of the Light side. It is only reasonable to assume that you're the reason why my parents go pale and clam up whenever I mention anything related to Harry."

A hint of pity entered Dumbledore's eyes.

"They always tell me that I 'shouldn't focus upon the past' so much and should instead work on tactics to defeat Voldemort," grumbled Nate. "They've taken down all the pictures we have of Harry!" he said, waving his arms agitatedly. "Whenever I go home for the holidays, I just can't help but feel like as if they're hiding the fact that I've ever had a brother before!"

Nate's eyes narrowed upon Dumbledore. "And I want to know why, Headmaster. I want to know why you prevented my parents, two goodhearted heroes, from grieving and remembering my dead brother."

Dumbledore stared silently into the fire, waiting for Nate to finish his rant. "I will not lie to you, Nate, but I will not tell you the truth unless you are truly prepared," he said softly, watching the dancing flames with a hint of pain. "The truth is a harsh and cold as the Light. It'll tear apart ever deception and mask that you've ever encountered. It will shatter your trust and your perception of the world." Dumbledore met Nate's glittering hazel eyes. "It would destroy you."

Nate frowned as he puzzled over Dumbledore's words. "It doesn't matter," he said finally. "I have waited almost twelve years for this Headmaster. It doesn't matter what you reveal, what deception others have wove around me, because it is of the past and those individuals that have meddled have no bearings in my life." He paused for a second, before stating evenly. "I don't care what the consequences are, Headmaster. I want to know what happened to my brother."

The air was tense as Dumbledore considered his choices carefully. On one hand, Nate was correct. The war was over and there was no point in hiding the truth about young Harry's death anymore. Theoretically, it didn't matter if Nate discovered James and Lily's treatment of Harry since with Voldemort gone, the Light side dominated. There was no reason to fear that Nate would estrange himself from the Light and fall to darkness due to his parent's betray, simply because there was no one else to turn to.

And above all, it was the truth.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples in frustration. However, on the other hand, Harry was dead and nothing would bring him back. So there really was no reason to wake sleeping dogs. He should let the past stay buried, shouldn't he? Since after all, once Nate discovered the truth, Dumbledore was positive that he'd turn against his parents.

Is it worth it? Truth over familial ties?

Dumbledore glanced over and met Nate's glittering eyes and sighed. Since young Nate was so determined to discover the truth, he figured that there was no way, really to stop the young Potter.

"Very well, Nate," he said softly. "But remember, it is you who choose to go this road."

Nate nodded. "Of course, now tell me everything."

Dumbledore sighed and began...

Chapter 5 Preview: Dumbledore tells Nate the truth about his parents (i.e. neglecting Harry)...etc.