Author's note: Thanks for reviewing the last chapter you guys! I appreciated all of your reviews so much I decided to update as quickly as I possibly could.
The anger swells in my guts
And I won't feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
'Cause I need you to look into mine
Tell me that you'll open your eyes
Tell me that you'll open your eyes
Tell me that you'll open your eyes
Tell me that you'll open your eyes
Sometimes, when we're faced with things we don't understand, we act quickly and end up doing things we'll later regret. Now was one of those times.
"Who are you?" James pointed his wand at the boy on the floor, who was rubbing at his bloody neck with his sleeve. "What's your name?"
"Harry."
James had to close his eyes because he almost collapsed under the wave that came over him at the sound of Harry's name.
"What's your real name?" James clenched his teeth.
"I just told you."
"Your name can't be Harry." James shook his head, taking a few steps back. "That's impossible."
"Yeah. Right." The boy muttered distractedly, staring down at his bloody hands. When he lifted his hands, blood trickled out from under his sleeves.
"This is a trick, isn't it?" James said, feeling like he was going to be sick. Everything had suddenly kicked into overdrive and he could barely breathe. "This is a trick. You and Bellatrix set this up."
The boy didn't say anything but instead looked up at James, confused. Lily's eyes looked up at him. James felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He was starting to feel lightheaded.
"You're trying to trick me. Its not going to work." James said. "Give me your wand."
The boy's eyes were unfocused and for a few moments it seemed like he was staring at James without really seeing him. Then he snapped out of the daze he was in, blinking and evidently trying to figure out what was happening.
"I said give me your wand." James repeated. "I'm not going to fall for this trick."
The boy handed his wand over to James, apparently too confused to try to put up a fight.
"Come on. We're going to go see someone. Don't try to run off or I'll hex you." James said through the lump in his throat. He turned away and started for the door, fighting against the tidal wave of emotions building inside his chest. His hands were shaking. He felt like his knees were giving way. When he turned around to see if the boy was following him, James saw him just standing there, holding onto a shelf for support. "What's wrong with you?"
The boy didn't answer, didn't even move. Despite James' tremendous effort not to feel anything for this impostor, he couldn't fight back the fear that came with seeing someone who looked like Harry bleeding profusely and not moving.
"She didn't really curse you. I'm not stupid. I'm not falling for this..." James said although he was really starting to panic now. "She was only pretending to curse you, right? This is all just a setup."
The boy suddenly jumped, making James jump too. The green eyes darted around as if looking for something. James refused to let himself think of those eyes as Lily's eyes. Those weren't Lily's eyes. It was just an illusion, something Voldemort made up in order to trick him...
"Where's Bellatrix?" The boy asked suddenly.
"You know where she is." James said. "She probably told you. This is all a part of your plan, right?"
"What are you talking about?" The boy asked. "I don't know where she is. Do you?"
"Voldemort summoned her, as you must already know." James said.
James was surprised that he could even make words come out of his mouth with the condition his mind was in. Although the room was silent except for the boy's panting breaths, everything felt so loud to James. There was screaming and yelling going on inside his head.
The boy looked over at him and James' heart felt like it tore in half. As much as he tried to deny it, those were Lily's eyes. And it wasn't just the eyes. It was the mouth, it was the nose, it was the freckles, it was the hair, it was the facial expression that matched the one Lily usually wore when she was frightened. James wasn't sure if he could take it anymore. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to hit something.
"Why are you doing this to me?" James asked, his voice cracking.
At that precise moment, the boy fell to the floor.
James' limits for emotional and psychological pain had been pushed many times over the past decade, but as he knelt to the floor and lifted the boy who looked like his dead son into his arms, he had never felt anything quite like that before. He'd gladly take the Cruciatus Curse over it any day, that was for sure. Every bone in his body was trembling as he carried the boy towards the Vanishing Cabinet, stepped inside and wrote 'Albus Dumbledore' against the wood with the tip of his wand.
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, hunched over the broken fragments of the Diadem of Ravenclaw. When he found the pieces of the diadem in his old Vanishing Cabinet, he realized one of the Aurors must have sent it to him. But that also meant that the Aurors were somewhere at the Ministry, so the raid at the warehouse must not have gone according to plan. However, Dumbledore didn't let this bother him too much because at least now they had one of the horcruxes.
Dumbledore had immediately recognized the horcrux for what it was and destroyed it with the Sword of Gryffindor minutes after he found it. Now he was just looking at the broken pieces, pondering them.
But a sudden bang from the room next to his office interrupted his thoughts. Dumbledore looked over at the door curiously. What could have possibly made that noise?
"Albus," Dumbledore recognized the voice of James Potter. "Are you here?"
"Yes, James, I'm in my office." Dumbledore replied. "But I must admit, I'm wondering how you ended up in my sitting room."
Dumbledore smiled when James came into his office but James did not return the smile. In fact, he looked terrible. Pale, shaking, and seemingly fragile, like if you touched him he'd shatter into a thousand pieces. Dumbledore stood up in concern, wondering what had happened. Had someone gotten hurt? He prayed it hadn't been Lily or Sirius. Dumbledore knew James wouldn't be able to survive without either of them.
"Whatever is the matter, James?" Dumbledore asked. "What's going on?"
"I don't know." James' voice sounded hoarse. "Come see."
Dumbledore strode across his office and into the sitting room, where he found what must have been the greatest shock of James' life, lying unconscious in an armchair.
The boy appeared to be thirteen years old, with a shock of dark hair and a dusting of light, hardly noticeable freckles across his nose and cheekbones; the nose that matched Lily's and the cheekbones that matched James'. The boy's head lolled against his shoulder and although it was hard to see the stains of blood on the boy's dark blazer, Dumbledore could see blood on the cuffs of the white shirt he wore underneath.
"Ah. I see." Was all Dumbledore said.
James seemed to be having a meltdown in the doorway.
Why was Voldemort doing this to him? What was the point? Was there a good reason for it or was it just to make James suffer? This was beyond cruel. Voldemort was known for being able to manipulate people by using their deepest fears and desires against them, but James had never heard of anything like this. He couldn't remember ever hearing about Voldemort pretending somebody's dead son was alive.
This was a horrible trick.
James' hatred for Voldemort was so overpowering that he started to see red. He could barely think straight, could barely breathe. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand and pretended he was tearing into Voldemort's throat and ripping the life from his pathetic body.
Wasn't it bad enough that Voldemort ruined James' life already? Did he have to come back and rub it in James' face? Voldemort killed Harry but it still wasn't enough for him. He couldn't just kill James' son and leave him alone to grieve for the rest of his life. No, Voldemort had to wait ten years or so and then make somebody pretend to be Harry, to psychologically torment him. It was so evil and so twisted that James could barely believe that any human being would do it.
But Voldemort wasn't a human being anymore. He had changed into something else. Something that didn't even deserve a name.
James couldn't see Dumbledore's expression at first, as Dumbledore was facing the Harry impostor with his back to James, but when he turned around the look on his face was not what James had been expecting.
His face was worried. Not shocked. Worried. And his worry didn't seem to be about James. From the look in Dumbledore's eyes, he seemed to be worried about the boy in the chair.
"What happened to him?" Dumbledore asked. "Why is he covered in blood?"
James was caught off guard by the question. Shouldn't a more appropriate question be 'why is he posing as your dead son?' Wasn't that the matter at hand here?
"Bellatrix Lestrange cursed him." James said. "It was a nonverbal curse so I don't know what the incantation was."
"Get Madam Pomfrey."
"Wait, what? Shouldn't we find out who he is first?"
"Hurry." Dumbledore ordered. "If she used the Cutting Curse, he could bleed to death."
"You failed." Lord Voldemort said softly. "All of you."
"M-master..." Bellatrix whimpered. "I'm so, so, sorry. I didn't know -"
"Silence!" Voldemort snapped, his voice hitting her like a whip. "This is primarily your fault, you foolish woman."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, forgive me, master." She sobbed. "I thought we could use Harry as a Death Eater. I thought if we raised him right, he'd grow up to be like us. Believe me, I was only thinking in your best interests."
"He has Lily and James Potter's blood in his veins. He comes from a long line of Aurors and Gryffindors," Voldemort spat, as if 'Gryffindor' was something foul. "You should have known better. And I must admit, I myself should have known better, but I had been foolish. I listened to your persuasions. I believed you could turn the half-blood brat into a worthy young Death Eater. But now look what's happened. He ruined everything."
Every Death Eater cowered before him, all of them wondering how severely they'd be punished.
"Crucio." Voldemort flicked his wand at Bellatrix.
She fell to the floor screaming and writhing. He let it go on for twenty seconds before he released the curse. Her screams fell into heavy pants, and after a few more moments she was silent.
"How many?" Voldemort asked, looking around at the Death Eaters. "How many horcruxes were destroyed or taken?"
"Two." Bellatrix said. "Only two."
"ONLY TWO?" Voldemort roared furiously, rising from his seat and standing over her. She cringed at his feet like an abused dog. "WHICH ONES!"
"The statue of Salazar Slytherin was destroyed by Harry. Then the Diadem of Ravenclaw was taken by James Potter. He - he sent it to Dumbledore." Bellatrix winced as she said this.
Voldemort let out a scream of rage that echoed off the walls of the large room. All of the Death Eaters recoiled in fright.
"Where are the others?" Voldemort asked quietly, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.
"Where you left them, I swear!" Bellatrix said.
"And the one at your manor?"
"Its still there."
"It had better be." Voldemort said. "Or you will experience suffering like you've never known before."
"Please, master. I only suffer when you suffer." Bellatrix said.
"Lord Voldemort doesn't suffer." Voldemort said before Cruciating her again. He lifted the curse after a few minutes and said, "You let James Potter take his son. Why would you do that? Why would you be so foolish to let Potter know his son is alive?"
"I thought - I thought I killed the boy. I used the Cutting Curse on him." Bellatrix said. "I thought it would torture James Potter if he found out that his son is alive, only to have his son die moments later."
"What if you didn't kill him, Bella?" Voldemort seethed. "Have you considered that? Have you considered the possibility that Harry wasn't immediately killed by the curse, and that James Potter probably took him to a Healer?"
"I - I'm sorry!" Bellatrix blubbered.
"Sorry isn't good enough."
And Voldemort Cruciated her for the third time.
James' stomach was in knots as he sat in Dumbledore's office, practically rocking back and forth in his chair. Dumbledore was with Madam Pomfrey in the sitting room, trying to figure out what was wrong with the boy. 'Voldemort disguised him to look like he could be my son,' James thought. 'That's what's wrong with him.' But no matter how much James tried to stop himself from worrying about the kid, he still did. He was worrying so much he thought he might be sick.
'Surely Bellatrix didn't really use the Cutting Curse on him. She was only pretending to. It was all a part of their plan.' James said. 'The boy is just a really good actor...he might not even be a boy at all. He could be a grown man who was only disguised as a child. It could be one of the older Death Eaters, like Avery or Macnair...'
But James couldn't stop worrying. Everything the kid had said was running through his mind: 'I have an idea on where the horcrux might be. Its somewhere between there and the other side of the world'...'Voldemort could be a girl and we'd never know'...'Because I'm not an evil lunatic'...'I think I was born into it...'
He had to have been faking it, everything he said. They probably planned out what they'd say ahead of time. Bellatrix probably told the boy to say all of those things to make it sound like he resents Voldemort, when in reality he probably worships him. That was it...
"James." Dumbledore's voice broke his worried thoughts. "He woke up."
James hated himself for the relief he felt at those words. Why was he feeling relieved that a Death Eater posing as his son wasn't dead?
"Poppy says Bellatrix did use the Cutting Curse on him, but the wound wasn't very deep and she was able to heal it within minutes." Dumbledore said. "He seems to be fine now."
"But - but he fainted. He just collapsed right on the floor. He must have lost a lot of blood." James argued.
"Over-exhaustion." Dumbledore said. "Evidently, the boy doesn't get a lot of sleep."
"Who is he?" James' anger had returned. "Why is he pretending to be Harry?"
"I don't know who he is, James, but I intend to find out as soon as possible." Dumbledore said. "Come in the sitting room with me. I have a way of finding out who he is."
In the sitting room, James saw the boy sitting up in the chair, looking at Madam Pomfrey warily. Madam Pomfrey stared back at him, apparently annoyed. James tried extremely hard not to smile at the familiar frown on her face. It was the same frown she used to give James when he was a teenager and kept picking at whatever bandages she put on him, or whenever he tried to leave the hospital wing without permission. James briefly wondered what the boy had done to make Madam Pomfrey annoyed, but then he immediately scolded himself, 'Who cares? He's a Death Eater. He's an impostor.'
"Hello again. I am Professor Dumbledore." Dumbledore smiled politely. "I'm just going to ask you some questions and then take a sample of your blood."
'Why is he being so friendly to the impostor?' James thought in annoyance.
"Why?" The boy asked. Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Are you a vampire?"
The question was so childlike that James' heart actually softened a bit and he almost smiled. But then he immediately said to himself, 'He's a good actor. He's just pretending to be all innocent when in reality he's an evil Death Eater, who is probably 40 years old...'
But if this boy was actually an adult, the disguise was genius and the acting deserved an Oscar.
"No, I'm not a vampire." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, let's get on with it. My first question for you is: how do you feel about Voldemort?"
"He's bloody crazy." The boy said.
'Good acting. Its just good acting.' James thought repeated. 'Good acting. Good acting...'
"You don't respect him?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Why would I?"
"Have you ever killed someone?" Dumbledore moved onto the next question.
"No." The boy said indignantly.
"Would you mind if I took a sample of your blood now?" Dumbledore asked, holding up a small knife.
"Would you still do it, even if I don't want you to?"
Dumbledore smiled sadly.
"I'm afraid so. However, I won't be the one doing it." Dumbledore looked over at James and said, "James, would you -"
"What? No!" James' heart started pounding.
"I'm sorry, James, but this won't work if you aren't the one doing it." Dumbledore said, handing the knife out to him.
James stared at it in horror. He couldn't do it. He absolutely could not.
"James," Dumbledore pleaded. "There's no other way."
The guilt James felt was sharper than the knife when he took it from Dumbledore and looked over at the boy. He was staring at James with wide green eyes - Lily's eyes. James tried to order himself not to feel guilty. This was just a Death Eater, after all. A Death Eater posing as his dead son. It was just an impostor.
But knowing that the boy was an impostor didn't make it any easier to walk towards him with a knife in his hand. James knelt in front of the chair, refusing to look at the boy's face. He didn't want to see what kind of emotion was in those green eyes. James looked over at Dumbledore and asked, "What am I supposed to do?"
"All you have to do is cut his hand." Dumbledore explained.
The boy held his hand out to James, and as James reached for it he accidentally looked into the boy's eyes.
He looked uneasy, for the most part, but also slightly curious, like something about James interested him. And this bothered James so much, he could barely stand it. His anger flared up again.
He took the knife and slashed it across the back of the boy's palm. The boy cringed and pulled his hand back as his blood spilled onto the blade. James was breathing heavily, his anger at this impostor roaring in his ears. He barely even noticed when Dumbledore took the knife from him. It was only when Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and gestured towards the door that he realized they were done with the little interrogation.
James stood up, glaring down at the boy. The boy looked back up at him, appearing confused and yet still curious.
"James, please hurry, before the blood tries." Dumbledore said from the doorway. "Poppy, would you mind cleaning the wound and performing some last minute tests on him, just to make sure the Cutting Curse hasn't left any lasting damage?"
James tore his eyes away from the boy and followed Dumbledore into his office, slamming the door behind him.
"Sit down, James." Dumbledore said as he placed the knife on his desk and rifled through a drawer.
James didn't sit down. Instead he paced back and forth in front of the desk, running his hands through his hair.
"Ah," Dumbledore suddenly said minutes later. "I found it."
Dumbledore laid a faded sheet of parchment out on his desk.
"A piece of old parchment?" James scoffed. "That's what you've been looking for?"
"Its not a regular piece of parchment. Its a special kind of parchment that I received as a gift many, many years ago. I didn't think I'd ever need to use it, but I've kept it, just in case." Dumbledore said. "If you put somebody's blood on this paper, the blood will spell out their name and date of birth."
"So we'll know who that kid is?" James asked. "Who he really is?"
"That's correct." Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort doesn't know that I have this so he wouldn't have thought of finding a way to trick it. And even if he did try to find a way to trick it, he wouldn't be able to. This parchment is absolutely foolproof. It cannot be tricked because blood cannot change."
James watched with baited breath as Dumbledore raised the bloody knife and wiped it on the parchment.
James couldn't watch anymore. He turned away from Dumbledore and closed his eyes, trying to steady the beating of his heart to no prevail. His heart was pounding so hard, his breath was stuck in his throat, he couldn't remember how to breathe. He tried to take deep calming breaths but that only made him feel nauseous.
"Its done." Dumbledore said from somewhere behind him. James couldn't read the emotion in his voice.
He still didn't open his eyes.
"James." Dumbledore said. "Come see it."
"I can't."
"You must, James." Dumbledore said.
James opened his eyes and sighed. He moved towards the desk, his heart beating so hard he thought it was going to break out of his ribcage. Dumbledore moved the parchment across the desk and gestured for James to sit down and look at it. But James was terrified. He didn't want to look at it. Because if he sat down and looked at the parchment, he didn't know if he'd ever be able to stand back up again.
"Look at it, James." Dumbledore insisted.
James sat down and with trembling hands pulled the parchment closer to him so he could read the name written across it, the true name of the Junior Death Eater.
Harry James Potter - July 31st, 1980
James stared at the words while his heart thumped in his ears and the room started spinning. His brain tried to register what he was reading. Harry James Potter, Harry James Potter, Harry James Potter, July 31st, 1980. He thought of a dark haired, emerald eyed baby, squirming in his arms as he tickled him. Then he thought of the twelve years he spent grieving over that baby. Then he thought of the living, breathing, thirteen year old boy in the other room.
And that was the precise moment James hit the floor, the world going black around him.
I am HORRIBLE for ending the chapter right here, but I had to. I'm sorry. As usual, please review! I don't want to sound like a review whore but when I get lots of reviews it makes me determined to finish the next chapter faster.
