A/N: Hi! Sorry about the late update...

Also, I'm just going to follow the original author's outline. I really like the way this story continues in the outlines posted by Excited-Insomniac.

One more thing, thank you to Excited-Insomniac for proofreading this chapter!

The next morning, Harry shoveled his breakfast into his mouth, almost choking on a large mouthful of toast. Beside him, Roderick was laughing hysterically at Harry's rare show of indignity. Delf shook her head at their antics and turned back to her own food. As soon as Harry had finished, he stood and strode towards the Slytherin table, almost tripping over his own feet in excitement.

"Tracey! There you are, come on. There's something you should know, it's really important."

"What do you want that can't wait until after I've finished breakfast? I'm starved, Harry!"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

After Tracey had eaten, she, Harry, Delf, and Roderick hurried out of the Great Hall and towards the Ravenclaw common room. A couple of Ravenclaw fourth year girls stared at Tracey when she stepped through behind the other three, and Harry caught a bit of their whispered conversation. "Did you know that Tom Potter's brother went into the Gryffindor common room once?"

"Yeah, I know, mental right?"

Rolling his eyes, he dropped into one of the armchairs beside the fire. When he was sure that no one would hear them, he filled Tracey in on what had happened the previous night. It was slightly unnerving to see her calmly thinking through his retellings, but it wasn't long before the tense silence was broken.

"Maybe this has something to do with your name coming out of the cup. Crouch is one of the judges, right? With Bagman?"

Delf replied, "Tracey has a point, Harry. I think all of this has to do with Crouch, honestly. It's too suspicious. His elf was found beneath the Dark Mark at the World Cup, your name comes out of the Goblet, then he goes and disappears? If that's just coincidence, I'm the Minister of Magic!"

Harry chuckled inwardly at Delf's growing frustration. But her reasoning made sense.

"Crouch used to be pretty high up in the Ministry. He was ruthless with Death Eaters in the First Wizarding War. Why would he turn to Dark Magic?"

"We don't even know if this is Dark Magic, Roderick."

"How can it not be? Someone fooled an ancient magical artifact! Like Moody said, it would take serious Dark Magic to pull off a stunt that big."

"Fine. But still, why would Crouch be involved with something like that?"

"I'm not sure, but Dumbledore wants to talk to my whole family tonight. I think it might be about Crouch and the Goblet. Maybe we'll get some answers then."

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Roderick interjected, "On that note, we really need to be getting to class. We're going to be late as it is!"

As they trudged out of Herbology later that morning, Harry pondered their earlier discussion about Mr. Crouch. There were pieces of the story that he didn't understand. What was Mr. Crouch's elf doing in the Top Box if Crouch was never going to show up? Obviously, Crouch wasn't going to miss an opportunity to improve his political status... But who else would know anything about Crouch that he wasn't already aware of? He wracked his brains for an answer, and mentally smacked himself in the forehead when he thought of it. Winky! She'd been recently freed, so she could say anything about Mr. Crouch that she wanted to. Of course, if she didn't want to say anything, this was all useless. But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

After he dragged Delf and Roderick out of the Great Hall, they headed down to the kitchens. Harry tickled the large pear in the portrait and pushed the door open. He only had time to look down before a small object flew past him and hugged Roderick's legs as hard as he could. It was Dobby.

"Master Roderick and Master Roderick's friends is visiting again!" Dobby made a muffled squealing sound, and Harry took the opportunity to cut in before the enthusiastic house elf became too overexcited.

"Dobby, if she's feeling better, do you think we could ask Winky a few questions about Mr. Crouch?"

"Winky is working now, Harry Potter sir... but she is still getting sad when she is thinking of Mr. Crouch."

"Has she said anything about Mr. Crouch at all?"

"Winky is only saying one thing about Mr. Crouch. She is saying that there is being two Master Bartys—"

"Wait, WHAT?"

"But she is ill, Harry Potter sir. She is being ill and confused," Dobby continued, shaking his head despondently as the elves surrounding them made small noises of mingled disgust and annoyance at Winky's name.

"Hold on," Roderick said, concentrating. "I've heard my parents talk about a Barty Crouch Junior. He was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's best, until he was put into Azkaban. I thought he died there."

"Well, if our second Crouch is really Junior, then apparently he's still alive. And it fits, I mean, he was a Death Eater. He might be looking to get rid of Harry." Delf reasoned out loud.

"Wasn't there some sort of Ministry scandal about Crouch after that? I think Mum and Dad mentioned it once or twice, something about Crouch not becoming Minister." He paused for a moment, trying to piece it together in his head, but he kept feeling like there was something he was missing. "Hang on, we might be getting answers soon! Dumbledore wants to talk to my family tonight. I bet it's about the Goblet!"

"Finally! We'll get some answers then, I suppose."

As they hurried back to the Great Hall, Harry heard someone calling his name. He gestured for Delf and Roderick to keep going, then raised his wand and turned. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Tom. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Okay?"

"What do you think the meeting's going to be about?" He looked nervous, as if he was anticipating bad news.

Harry was confused for a moment before he understood what Tom was worried about. His brother thought Dumbledore would reveal the fact that Harry was the real Boy-Who-Lived. He almost laughed, then stopped himself, realizing that probably wasn't the reaction Tom was looking for. "I thought it would be about Crouch and the Goblet."

"I guess." Tom still looked skeptical, but nodded seriously and walked away. Harry shook his head amusedly, then proceeded back to the Common Room. He climbed the stairs to the Boys' Dorms and fell flat on his bed. He lay silently for a few minutes, just thinking about how nice it would be to be normal, not roped into these things left and right. Instead of worrying about the insane sons of Ministry officials, he and his brother might be planning their next prank. Without fear of a hypocritical madman determined to kill him, he and his friends would enjoy their last days of the school year, watching the final Quidditch matches and racing for the House Cup. Smiling wistfully, he stood and picked up his Firebolt. He desperately needed to clear his mind.

Harry slowly guided his broom back to the ground, exhilarated. The sun was low over the horizon, and he didn't want to be late when Dumbledore finally told them what was going on with the Goblet. Absorbed in thoughts of getting answers and solving mysteries, he almost crashed into the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.

"What has an eye but doesn't weep, knows the north but cannot see, makes a point but will not speak, gives an awful bite but has no teeth?"

He thought for a moment, before a familiar voice said teasingly, "A needle. Seriously, Harry, that was the easiest one I've ever heard. How did you not get it?"

"Shut up, Delf," he replied tiredly, turning to face her. Her eyes danced mischievously, and he laughed. For a moment, he considered yanking her into a broom closet, but his thoughts of the meeting with Dumbledore quashed those feelings. Delf noticed the look on his face, and her smile faded.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just thinking about the meeting with Dumbledore tonight. I won't be able to—" He cut himself off, blushing bright red.

"You won't be able to what?"

"Finish my homework," he said in a subdued tone, not wanting anyone to know what he had been intending to say.

"You're a terrible liar, Harry." They walked in silence into the common room, and sat down side by side on one of the many chairs inside. Delf slung her arm around his shoulder, leaning her head sideways on Harry's arm. He turned and drew her into a loose hug, mood slightly lifted. She returned the embrace and kissed him lightly on the cheek before rising and walking reluctantly in the direction of the Girls' dorms. She looked back when she reached the staircase, giving him a small wave.

"Goodnight, Delf," Harry replied as he stood and strode in the opposite direction. He stepped into the corridor and headed down to Dumbledore's office.

Once everyone was inside, the Headmaster conjured chairs for the four Potters, and each sat down, moods slightly dampened by his grave expression. Harry's heart raced. Finally, they had some news about the Tournament!

Dumbledore began. "I'd like to start by apologizing to all of you. Over the past few months, I have come to realize I have made an unbelievably egregious error of judgment. Harry, Tom, what I am about to say will be especially difficult for you to hear." Harry felt his heart plunge. He had been wrong. Dumbledore was about to tell his parents that Tom had never been the Boy-Who-Lived, and that it was actually Harry. He turned to look at Tom. His brother's face was an ashen color, obviously having reached the same conclusion as Harry. Their parents, however, seemed to have no idea what was about to happen. James was frowning in concentration, no doubt thinking of all the things that involved Harry and Tom. Lily's face showed worry and confusion, her green eyes looking brighter than usual as she tried to recollect every instance where Tom and Harry had played major roles. Harry thought fast. He had to get out of this somehow. Pretending to look at the clock on the wall, he swore. Loudly and colorfully.

"Harry! Language!" As Lily admonished her older son, James turned his questioning gaze upon Harry, trying and failing to look stern at his exclamations.

"I'm late. For… a study session…with… some people…. We can postpone this, right? For a while?" He ran to the door, and tried to open the door, but it was no use. The door was locked, and probably warded against unlocking mechanisms as well. Tom's eyes suddenly lit up in understanding.

"Wait…. You know, don't you?"

Dumbledore, looking between the two, put Tom's question better. "Am I to understand that this information is not new to you?"

Harry, still looking at Tom, replied exasperatedly, "Of course I know! I'm smarter than you!"

Dumbledore stared incredulously. "You both know?"

For the first time, James spoke up. "Know what?"

Ignoring him and Dumbledore, Harry looked Tom in the eye. "When did you find out?"

"When the Dementors came to the game last year and we fell off our brooms. I heard everything, but you said you didn't hear anything, so I didn't want to say anything."

"I was lying: I heard the same thing as you. But that wasn't when I found out."

Lily repeated her husband's question, a little louder. "Found out what?!"

Now it was Tom's turn to ignore her. "How else could you have known?"

"In your first year, when I faced him on the back of Quirrell's head. He said some things to that effect, but I thought—well, hoped—that he was only trying to throw me off."

Dumbledore watched the exchange in disbelief. "And you didn't tell anyone? Your parents? Your friends? Myself?"

Scathingly, Harry replied, "Oh, I told my friends. But given my relationship with my parents at the time, I think I'm excused from that one. And why would I have told you?"

Tom interjected, "You don't want this?"

"Want what?" James' voice held a note of frustration.

Oblivious to the growing tension in the room, Harry nearly shouted his next words. "Of course not! I saw what you were like growing up! Why would I want people to treat me with reverence for something I didn't even do? 'Your grandma died and you didn't. Have a trophy. And a chocolate. And, hell, more chocolate, 'cause you're just flat-out amazing for not dying when your grandma did.' It never made sense!"

Finally, his parents caught on.

"Wait…"

"Are you trying to imply—?"

Interrupting James, Dumbledore delivered the final blow. "Harry is the one who survived the Killing Curse that night. Not Tom."

There was a long silence. Harry followed Tom's gaze over to his parents. Lily looked as if she were about to faint. James looked as if he was realizing all over again the extent of their mistakes.

Tom looked puzzled and slightly irritated. "What I don't understand is why everyone assumed it was me all this time. Harry was there too. Harry also got a scar. Voldemort could have been aiming at him just as easily as at me. I mean, the house blew up. There was really no way to tell."

"Well, there was some… information I had that made me believe the timing of Harry's birth ruled him out. The wording was… ambiguous. Secondly, Harry was found in the hallway outside the nursery when your parents and Sirius arrived home. And thirdly, though this is quite superficial now, Tom, your wound was much more…noticeable. We assumed Harry must have been hit in the explosion and cut his forehead." Harry fingered the scar on his forehead, just now understanding the true meaning behind it.

James seemed to gather confidence from Dumbledore's words. "My mother's body was found in front of your crib, Tom. It was natural to… to assume that she had died protecting you and that Harry hadn't been there at all."

"Then my whole identity as the Boy-Who-Lived was based on some shoddy guess-work and wrong assumptions."

The headmaster suddenly seemed much older than normal. "I'm sorrier than I can say."

"What made you change your mind after all this time?" James asked.

"I was nearly sure when Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire. That was extremely complex Dark Magic, too big to be meant merely as a jab at Tom on the off chance Harry got hurt. It could just as easily have been Tom's name to come out, but it wasn't. Then when Mr. Crouch came out of the Forest yesterday, I believed Harry would parse it out on his own."

Annoyed at this admission, Harry sputtered, "So you're only telling us because you thought I would figure it out and you wanted to look clever by saying it first?"

"Of course not. And it's not only that. I have observed a pattern ever since Tom arrived at Hogwarts and these… events began happening."

Lily's cold green eyes met Dumbledore's. "The ones that involve my sons almost getting killed on a regular basis?"

Dumbledore swallowed. "Precisely. It's true that Voldemort made his first reappearance during Tom's first year, but I believe that was strictly an unfortunate coincidence. Looking at the facts, Voldemort was extremely lucky in the first place to find someone willing to take him in, and even luckier that that person happened to teach here. Then during Tom's second year, and Harry's fourth, when the Chamber of Secrets was rediscovered, that was also a terrible happenstance. But in both cases, it was either mostly Harry or entirely Harry who took on Voldemort's incarnation and bested it. He was the only one to face Quirrell, which must have been an illuminating experience, from what I've gathered just now. He and Tom both went into the Chamber, that's true, but while Tom behaved very heroically by taking on the Basilisk, Harry was still the one to destroy the diary."

"Yeah, but again, that could all be coincidences and shoddy guesswork."

"True, Harry. However, your name came out of the Goblet. That is neither coincidence nor shoddy anything."

"Then why wait so long to tell us if you were nearly sure months ago?" Lily seemed close to tears, both in anger at the Headmaster and sadness at her grievous errors throughout her sons' lives.

"I..." Dumbledore seemed at a loss for words. "I felt that it would be better to make sure before releasing such important news."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You just wanted to look good by saying it before I did."

"Of course not, my boy. I simply wanted to ensure that this information was not disclosed in the wrong manner, so that it might not be overheard by sympathizers of Lord Voldemort."

"So you didn't want Tom and I to tell our parents, whether in our house or at Hogwarts."

When the Headmaster hesitated, Harry had his answer. He rolled his eyes. Typical. The Headmaster just wanted to look like the better man, admitting to his mistakes before someone else noticed them.

There was a long silence. Lily seemed to be debating what to say. James, on the other hand, looked like he was still trying to comprehend what Dumbledore had said. Finally, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"If we're all done here, could I return to my common room? I've got homework."

"Harry, we are so, so, sorry. If we had known before..." Lily trailed off, unsure of what to say that could fix the massive error that she and James had made.

"You would have done what, exactly? I would have been a spoiled brat, thinking I was better than everyone else because of a tiny groove in my skin. Tom would have been the," and here, he nearly sneered, "rebellious brother that I, the great and generous Brat-Who-Supposedly-Saved-Us-All, had taken under my wing."

His mother looked for a moment as if she was going to reprimand him, but then thought better of it and simply nodded ashamedly. "You're right, Harry. Even if we hadn't known that Tom wasn't the baby who faced Voldemort that night, we should have treated you both as our sons, not just Tom." A lone tear made its way down her cheek, and Harry suddenly felt bad for his outburst. Not having anything else to say, he stood awkwardly, fiddling with the seams of his cloak. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father move to put an arm around his mother. They opened their arms, and Harry automatically moved towards them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom doing the same, and suddenly, he was enveloped in a huge group hug. Although no words passed between them, Harry understood the apology behind it. He looked up into the faces of his mother and father and nodded ever so slightly, watching them visibly relax and feeling as if a huge weight had been taken off of his shoulders.

They stayed like that for a few moments, until James spoke up. "Nothing of this conversation leaves this room. We don't need more problems than we have, what with Harry in the tournament and Crouch gone." Harry nodded, relieved. He didn't want to imagine what Rita Skeeter would have made of this. He didn't care for her articles that much, but he didn't want this information making its way to the general population. Belatedly, he realized that they were alone. The Headmaster must have left at some point to give them all a moment.

"Again, I need to be going. Homework," Harry repeated once a few minutes had passed. He heard no objections, and stepped out into the corridor. As he walked towards the common room, he heard footsteps coming towards him. He turned and found Tom, obviously out of breath. "What are you doing? The Gryffindor common room's that way."

"I wanted to talk to you."

When Harry gestured for him to continue, he rushed on. "Thank you for keeping my secret, Harry. You knew for a long time, but you were still ok with Mum and Dad treating me differently than you."

"That wasn't me being nice. "How would it have helped if I told them? It wouldn't have undone all the stuff that came before. You would have resented me if I told them before you found out for yourself, and they would have felt too guilty to try and make amends. It wouldn't have helped anything."

Tom waved away his explanations and continued. "Yes, but you could have told, and you didn't. Thanks for that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't have to thank me, it's fine," he said, but Tom wouldn't take no for an answer. Their eyes locked, and Harry saw the gratitude that his younger brother was so desperately trying to convey. He nodded wordlessly, watching Tom's shoulders sag in sheer relief. Then, he turned in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower once more, eager to get some sleep after such an exhausting evening.