Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.
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For those of you who were waiting for the truth behind James Potter.
"What do you mean? Wormtail captured my dad for Voldemort?"
"Your father, James Potter, became one of Lord Voldemort's followers."
"My dad was a deatheater?" questioned Harry, in an unbelieving voice. His mind hadn't fully registered what had been said.
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter," said McGonagall gravely. "I didn't think you were ready for –"
"You're lying!" cried Harry harshly, his face contorting. "You know it's not true!"
"It is, Harry," said Madam Pomfrey.
"Your father was a deatheater…" McGonagall held up a hand as for Harry not to interrupt, "…but he was also a good man."
"You don't understand!" shouted Harry, enraged. "My dad would never have gone with Voldemort. Have you seen the things Voldemort does?!"
"You need to hear the full story, Mr Potter," said McGonagall firmly.
Harry jumped up vehemently. "I don't think so," he said coldly. "I've had enough."
He shoved past the two adults, and ran for the door.
McGonagall aimed an accusing look at Madam Pomfrey before flicking her wrist at the door. The lock instantly snapped shut, barring Harry's way.
"Let me out!" he said.
"Mr Potter, please calm yourself down!" insisted Professor McGonagall. "You need to hear the full story."
Harry disagreed.
He felt tentacles from McGonagall's magic wrap themselves around him tightly. They then hauled him back bodily into the chair he had jumped out of.
"Sorry, Mr Potter," said McGonagall. "But if you cannot control yourself, I'll have to."
At that, magical ropes tied him securely to his chair. All struggles were in vain.
"Minerva!" protested Madam Pomfrey, shocked at McGonagall's forcefulness. "You can't keep him in here if he doesn't –"
Professor McGonagall whirled around and glared at the mediwitch. "Poppy Pomfrey, do you have any idea what you're saying? I was against this whole thing since the very beginning. I should never have agreed to tell him! If we let him out now, in this state, do you really think there'll be good outcomes?"
Pomfrey lowered her head in acceptance. "The poor boy is in a state. Even under the influence of a Calming Draught… he reacts like this…"
"What?" snapped McGonagall. "What are you talking about?"
"The jasmine tea, it's spiked with a Calming Draught."
Harry stopped resisting for a moment and stared at the mediwitch. No wonder she had been so keen to get the tea down his throat. "You didn't even tell me," he accused.
"Mr Potter –" began Madam Pomfrey.
"Poppy! You did it for his own good."
Harry glared at the Gryffindor Head. Now that he had calmed a little, he couldn't see a point in their lying.
But on the other hand, it couldn't possibly be true. His father would never have done something like that.
Sighing, Professor McGonagall brushed back a strand of free hair that had fallen from her bun. "Just please listen, Potter, to the full story."
Harry leaned back into his chair with a resigned look. If Professor McGonagall was so determined to tell him the whole thing, he didn't see how he could stop her.
"As a young man, Mr Potter, your father was attracted to the greater powers. You must understand that. He was still young and ignorant – unable to separate good from bad," said the Gryffindor Head, looking almost relieved that Harry did not try to interrupt.
"James wanted to be famous, he wanted to be great. All those time at Hogwarts, he focused too much on pulling pranks, having fun with the Marauders, chasing Lily, and studying to think about anything else…"
Harry managed to keep his blank mask intact.
When was it that his dad had succumbed to the pull of the Dark Arts?
"When James got out of Hogwarts, he married Lily. That kept him content and settled for a while," said Professor McGonagall. "However, your father had an adventurous streak. If there weren't enough things to distract him, he would find trouble."
Harry found his heart hurting at the description. Somehow, it seemed to bring the dad of his imagination to life.
Cheerful, carefree, and daring, was how he imagined James Potter.
"When James found himself out of school and living a settled marriage life with only Lily to keep him in line, he started dreaming again. He dreamed big. He wanted to bring about change, to have influence; he wanted fame."
Harry's throat constricted. He himself had never even considered the things his dad dreamed.
"When James spoke to Peter about his desires, Peter, who was already serving the Dark Lord at that time, told James about Lord Voldemort's cause. At that time, it seemed the perfect escape from the dreary ordinary life he lived."
Harry listened, expressionless.
"So James became a minor, low-ranked deatheater – and remained like that for a year or so. Do not take me wrong; your father was a very talented wizard… however for whatever reason, Lord Voldemort did not realise James' ability."
Harry looked at Professor McGonagall's grim face and inwardly felt cold.
"James was furious. How was it that those deatheaters of less talent than he had risen to the inner circle while he remained unworthy? From that time onwards, James developed an unhealthy obsession – he became obsessed with getting Lord Voldemort to recognise his potential. Soon he came up with a plan."
Harry shuddered. His own dad acting like Voldemort's little lapdog, craving for attention, seemed like an unbelievable nightmare-ish truth that he simply could not bring himself to accept.
His dad was supposed to be an upright and honourable man… not one of Voldemort's worshipping cronies.
"Lord Voldemort needed inside information from the Order of Phoenix, but he did not have enough spies. At that time your father had not yet joined the Order but James knew that he, being a past Hogwarts student with a good reputation and a popular Gryffindor who was favoured by his peers and his teachers, was in the perfect position to aid Lord Voldemort. And so, he asked for an audience with Lord Voldemort and eagerly proposed his idea" – here McGonagall sighed – "The Dark Lord liked the sound of his plan and ordered James to take up his position by Dumbledore's side and join the Order of the Phoenix."
"He was a spy for the Dark Lord," said Harry, his voice flat. It wasn't even phrased as a question…just a dead, flat tone that nailed the truth in its purest form.
"He was a spy for the Dark Lord," affirmed McGonagall. "He also persuaded Lily, Sirius, Peter and Remus to join him. Together, they became the new members of Dumbledore's resistance. Needless to say, Dumbledore was overjoyed when they told him they wanted to join… but I obviously cannot blame him when I, myself, too was delighted."
Harry's face sagged depressingly. "So my mom was a deatheater too, a deatheater spy? And all the rest of my dad's friends?"
"Oh no!" cried McGonagall. "You misunderstand. Lily was ever so loyal to the Order, as were Remus and Sirius. They didn't even know your father served the Dark Lord until the very end. No, only your father and Peter were spies."
"Was my dad really so blood-thirsty? He stayed by Voldemort's side even when he saw all the killing and torture?" Harry questioned.
"Obviously your father had heard of killings and torture sessions. But being one of the lower ranked deatheaters, he was less exposed to those. He himself never committed any murders. It's different; seeing someone killed than killing them yourself. Since James never did the latter, he wasn't subjected to the full horror of Lord Voldemort's kingdom. As for Lord Voldemort's hatred towards muggleborns and his orders against them – James tried to overlook it. Not for one moment did he agree with the things Voldemort accused muggleborns of being."
"My mom was muggleborn!" Harry exploded. "I don't see how my dad not agreeing with some of what Voldemort says makes him a good man!"
"Minerva will get to that later," soothed Madam Pomfrey.
"Yes, I will," said McGonagall, eyes narrowing warningly at Harry for him to stay quiet. "In a matter of a few seconds, James had caught Lord Voldemort's full attention – and in a matter of days, he was let into the inner circle. A few months later, Lord Voldemort was demanding for the whereabouts of the Longbottoms. At that time, you were also born. In an attempt to impress the Dark Lord and to stay with you and Lily without going on missions, James gave the information to him. James regretted it deeply afterwards – for the Longbottoms had never done anything immoral to him."
"Neville!" said Harry.
"Neville's parents. Lord Voldemort hunted them down and took a vital piece of information from them. The Longbottoms had been secret-keepers for the headquarters of the Order. Lord Voldemort extracted that information from them," said McGonagall, shaking her head. "It was a disaster when the Dark Lord struck during one of our meetings. His deatheaters killed quite a few of our members and wounded even more. The survivors barely escaped with their lives, and even that was thanks to Dumbledore, who held them off."
"What happened to the Longbottoms?" asked Harry suddenly.
"They hadn't wanted to give Lord Voldemort the information but –"
"They died, didn't they?" said Harry. "They died trying to protect it."
McGonagall reluctantly nodded. "Neville Longbottom had only been four at that time. Lord Voldemort thought it would be ironic if Mr Longbottom, with prominent Order members for parents, grew up parentless. That was why he was allowed to live."
Harry was looking horrified. "All because of my dad."
"No," corrected McGonagall. "He had no idea what consequences his actions would bring. And only Dumbledore knew the Longbottoms were secret-keepers."
"Did Dumbledore die in the attack?" Harry asked.
"No, fortunately. He fled after all the surviving Order members were safe. Lord Voldemort didn't manage to catch him. However, the remaining Order members had scattered and nearly all their work had been scratched into nothingness. We lost many of our friends, some of us lost families, and mostly importantly, we lost hope. Lily was devastated – taking it harder than the rest of us."
"Why? Was my dad found out?"
"No. His spy position was safe, but your mother lost her two closest Order friends: Alice Longbottom and Marlene McKinnon. Seeing what he had brought upon his friends, James too was distraught. From that moment on, he was no longer Lord Voldemort's man. He wanted out. James went to Lord Voldemort and demanded to quit. But there was no quitting. Lord Voldemort threatened James with Lily and you. The Dark Lord wanted a recorded location of all the remaining Order members from James… only that way would you and your mother be safe."
Harry's teeth gritted together. It was the lowest of moves; to blackmail someone with someone they cared about. But then Voldemort had always been vile.
"Your father didn't want to. He owed the Order enough already. He loved many members like family. Not to mention Sirius and Remus were both in the Order. But he couldn't put you and Lily's life at risk. So he wrote down all the locations he knew. Lord Voldemort was satisfied but there was no telling whether he intended to keep his promise on not harming Lily." McGonagall closed her eyes tiredly for a moment.
"When James got back, he bemoaned his second betrayal. He was so consumed by remorse that he couldn't stand by and watch while Lord Voldemort sent his deatheaters to track down the Order members. James wrote messages on slips of papers – short messages that barely explained what had happened clearly, and sent them out to every member. Despite the shortness, it was enough. I had been one of the first ones Lord Voldemort tracked down. As soon as I received James' message, I flooed to Dumbledore. The deatheaters arrived at my house few moments later."
Harry winced slightly as he listened. Clearly Professor McGonagall's life had been in danger. It was unbearable, to know how many mistakes his dad made… but it too was his dad who saved the Order members.
"Lord Voldemort soon caught news of James' unfaithfulness. He personally hunted Lily, James, and you down. He killed your parents and left you alive. You were one year old. He spent the next few years tracking down scattered Order members but it wasn't until seven years later that he killed Dumbledore and could finally declare official victory to his deatheaters. There was no proof that Dumbledore was dead… Voldemort must have disposed of the body...Dumbledore never contacted me again."
"What about you, Professor?" Harry asked.
"Lord Voldemort kept me alive because I was no longer a threat, and so can continue to teach Hogwarts."
"Oh."
"This is the full story, and now that it's finished, I personally think it's time for you to leave, Mr Potter. I don't really see a point in you going to your afternoon classes like this. Madam Pomfrey will give you two Calming Draughts and a Sleeping Draught to take back to your dormitory. The Sleeping Draught will help you go to sleep immediately," said McGonagall.
"Okay," said Harry, with as much calm as he could muster. "I'm sorry about earlier –"
"An apology isn't necessary," dismissed McGonagall.
"I have just one more question," said Harry. "If my dad played such a big part in Voldemort's victory, shouldn't he at least remember my dad's last name? Voldemort didn't seem to recognise me or anything when he learnt my name in Diagon Alley."
"Trust me, Mr Potter, the Dark Lord knows exactly who you are," said McGonagall austerely. "It's best if you keep your distance from him. He isn't exactly the safest person to be around."
"I will," said Harry simply.
The more Harry thought about it, the more dreadful it seemed to become. He still couldn't believe what his dad had done.
Perhaps if his dad had not accidentally given Voldemort such a big advantage, he would not have won the war.
Harry knew Professor McGonagall had downplayed it. She really was admirable; calling a man who had caused her so much grief a 'good man'.
Harry couldn't help but feel indebted to her.
He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost tripped over one of the stairs on the staircase.
"Watch out, Mr Potter," came a cool voice. "You wouldn't want to injure yourself."
Harry whirled around, saw the face of the speaker, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Voldemort," he said, in a low voice.
"Hmm. Most people refer to me as Lord Voldemort nowadays." Voldemort's tone was amused.
Harry felt a burning hatred for the dark wizard. He wished he could rip the man to shreds right then and there – no, not man, beast; Voldemort was a disgrace to mankind.
However, with an enormous amount of self-control, Harry bit out the word, "Sorry."
He figured it would be better to act meek – if only for now. Voldemort wasn't the most predictable of people… and Harry wanted to blend in with the other students.
He had already caught more than enough of Voldemort's attention.
"Taking the afternoon off? What are you doing out of class?" asked the Dark Lord in a conversational tone. "Skipping classes on the first day? Tut tut…naughty boy."
"I have permission," said Harry vigilantly, "from Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey."
Voldemort's eyes suddenly gleamed wickedly. "Really? Professor McGonagall? Already getting special treatment, are we? Though I thought it should really be Professor Snape you get it from… you're in Slytherin, aren't you?"
The Dark Lord cast a sideways glance at Harry's Slytherin tie.
"Yes," answered Harry, with his head lowered in a submissive manner.
If he wanted to pretend, he might as well do it properly.
"Hmmm…" Voldemort said musingly. "That is rather surprising – what with your vehemence in Diagon Alley and all... Are you quite sure the Sorting Hat hadn't put you in Gryffindor?"
"The Sorting Hat said I belonged in Slytherin…although," Harry couldn't help but add, "I disagree."
Voldemort looked at Harry and chuckled. "Really? I must tell you, Mr Potter, that Slytherin, in fact, is my favourite house."
"I know," said Harry quietly, unthinkingly.
He was starting to feel like he had spent too long with the Dark Lord. Professor McGonagall had specifically told him that he was to stay away from Voldemort.
"Oh, yes?" The Dark Lord raised a delicate eyebrow. "Elaborate?"
Harry nearly slapped himself. Of all the things he could have said, did he seriously have to spew out those two words?
It wasn't like he wanted to keep what the Sorting Hat had told him a tight secret, but…
Lie your way out of it! His brain instinctively instructed him. Lie!
"The other Slytherins were boasting about how you used to be a Slytherin," said Harry quickly.
If he had to say so himself, he was actually quite proud of the lie. He had learnt ages ago that the closer to the truth a lie was, the more believable it was.
Another trick was to keep the lie vague; Harry hadn't told Voldemort exactly which Slytherin had boasted.
Harry's satisfaction, unfortunately, was instantly blown away when Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him.
Harry was suddenly struck by an urge to stare deeply into Voldemort's eyes. He tried to resist, but found his eyes slowly trailing up the Dark Lord's face until he was gazing right into two pools of blue ice.
He felt a sort of pull, as if a vacuum cleaner was sucking something out of him, before he managed to break off his gaze.
Voldemort's face darkened dangerously and he took a purposeful step towards Harry.
Harry took a step back.
"Mr Potter, I must tell you that I do not appreciate people lying to my face," said Voldemort slowly, his expression cold. "I do not see why you wasted your energy on telling an unnecessary lie and risked my wrath."
The veiled threat behind the words was only too clear to Harry.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his head lowered in fake humility.
"You should be."
Voldemort inched towards Harry calmly. "Why have you become so respectful since our last encounter? You can't have been punished by the Headmistress already?"
Harry stepped back in masked disgust. "Please excuse me… my Lord," he said. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going…"
He took another involuntary step back as Voldemort moved lithely in front of him to casually block his way.
"No, no, not yet, Mr Potter…" said Voldemort, smiling. "Are you still nervous from our last meeting in Diagon Alley? Surely you must know, Mr Potter, I mean no harm."
Harry suppressed a snort.
Voldemort meaning no harm? Even the very concept was ridiculous. He wouldn't have believed it if Professor McGonagall personally told him that.
"Of course, My Lord," said Harry mildly, careful to watch his tone. "Is there…anything I can help you with?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. I'd like you to give Professor McGonagall a message. Just tell her that Lord Voldemort knows everything she has told the boy, including a matter concerning a disloyal deatheater. Tell her not to try to hide anything from Lord Voldemort next time, because he knows everything."
Harry blanched. Fear gripped at his heart. Voldemort had known exactly was going on. He couldn't believe it.
What was going to happen to Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey now?
Harry trembled from head to toe. If they were killed, it would be his fault alone.
"Surprised?" asked Voldemort, raising an eyebrow.
"How…" Harry swallowed. "How did you find out?"
The Dark Lord smirked in a pleased sort of way. "A magician never reveals his tricks."
Harry took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down a little. It didn't work.
The longer he stood alone on the staircase with Lord Voldemort, the more uneasy he felt.
"What are you going do with Professor McGonagall?" Harry finally asked, reluctantly.
"Do with her?" repeated Voldemort. "Nothing at all. Truth be told, I do not mind at all that she has gone ahead and told you. However I dislike Hogwarts staff keeping secrets from me."
"They just wanted to tell me. They thought you would disapprove… that's why they didn't ask you first," explained Harry. He was careful about where he trod – every word was vital. If he said the wrong thing, there was no telling what the Dark Lord would do.
"They weren't planning on ever telling me," commented Voldemort lightly.
Harry thought it would be better to tell the truth this time. "No, they weren't."
"Hmmm…"
Harry remained silent, hoping Voldemort wouldn't snap his wand out and storm the hospital wing.
"Are you enjoying your time here, Mr Potter?" asked Voldemort, out of the blue.
Harry blinked confusedly at the sudden change of subject. "It's…all right."
"Without doubt Professor McGonagall has told you about the revoltingly cruel man sorcerer who wields the Dark Arts with blinking an eyelid – who murders as naturally as a bird can fly. Surely you didn't think I would leave Hogwarts, such a priceless treasure, unguarded, did you? Bellatrix Lestrange from Diagon Alley…she is the muggle studies professor here. Severus Snape, one of my most dedicated followers, is the potions master. And the Headmistress also obeys every one of my orders; my wish is her command."
Harry choked back an angry retort.
"I also know my deatheaters are the source of your unpleasant experiences here," said Voldemort nonchalantly.
"What do you want with me?" Harry blurted out in sudden rage.
"Uh," said Lord Voldemort with a faint smirk. "I knew I could get you to react."
Harry clenched his fists.
"Don't flatter yourself, Mr Potter, you are nothing special… just a little distraction from my boredom…you are the son of my dead follower after all. Don't worry; after today, I won't bother you any more. I'll have other things to think about, like how Severus and Bella are progressing…" Voldemort drifted off.
Harry flushed a beetroot red in spite of the relieved feeling in his chest. He had no doubt Voldemort was being completely honest.
Perhaps he was being too paranoid, thinking the Dark Lord wanted anything to do with him.
"You may go now, Mr Potter. I have other businesses that require my attendance," said Voldemort, with a lazy wave of the hand. "Other more important businesses."
That was how Harry found himself walking as fast as he could towards the Slytherin dormitory.
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