First off, before I start this, I must say that the inspiration came from The Double Agent by Bourkem. I plead you to check that out. It's truly brilliant.

Second, I of course don't own Harry Potter, just write for fun. I don't get anything out of writing this. Without further ado, let us begin!

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The floor was the most interesting part of the room, Harry thought. Not the largely empty room that harboured only the closest to the case, his family who sat watching him with horror, complete disgust, the families of Harry's victims, looking at him with anger, righteous anger. Not the rows of politicians, too high and mighty to get their hands dirty. Not the now empty Dementor holding area, for the unfortunate souls to incur its wrath. No, it was the floor, the only real thing Harry could look at.

The floor had checkered tiles of black and white. Though this was one of the larger courtrooms in The Ministry -preserved for the most dangerous and most awful of people- there was a crack in one of the black tiles, a diagonal crack right down the centre. Unusual that they didn't fix it, but he supposed with all the criminals that had passed through these doors over the last few weeks, inevitably damage would crop up.

Harry let out an amused huff; he knew this would happen, eventually; all part of the greater plan, he supposed. Not one formulated by him, of course. But one by Dumbledore, to ensure the safety of The Wizarding World. A great man, Dumbledore, but -like many- flawed.

"Mr Potter, have you anything you wish to say?" Director Bones asked.

Harry lifted his head, dull eyes meeting the woman's own. He shook his head, not believing a response was necessary. Not that Harry trusted his voice. His throat was dry and sore. He hadn't used it much the last few weeks, sat in wait, waiting for today.

Harry hadn't intended to survive the war, nor had Dumbledore thought he would. Harry was the sacrificial lamb, the one to help orchestrate the war from the other side, manipulate The Death Eaters into making mistakes, force them into precarious situations. There was always the risk of The Dark Lord to find out these manipulations, rip through his mental shields and murder him on the spot. That hadn't happened, though.

Bones let out a small sigh. "What happened to you? You were such a promising young boy, a favourite among the staff of Hogwarts. You could have done so much, coming out of Hogwarts with nothing but the best grades, looked to by others as the man to take up Dumbledore's mighty legacy. But you changed. Why?"

Harry paused. An unexpected question, he thought; on the personal side, but he guessed that was always to come. "Why... Why? I did what needed to be done, of course," Harry said with a hoarse voice, ringing through the hallowed chamber.

There was loud chatter that echoed annoyingly off of the barren walls. Harry could make out his younger brother's voice, so young and naïve; such a wonderful child, someone who deserved all good that came to them. Someone who Harry loved -used to love- dearly.

"Could you elaborate? For the jury." Bones asked once it had quieted.

Could he? Harry didn't believe it was necessary. He'd done some heinous crimes, acts so beyond redemption that no matter his excuses, he would never be set free. Some of those crimes would curl even Mad Eye's toes, some of them were too cruel, too beyond human to even speak aloud. What Harry had done condemned him to Hell.

"The point?" Harry asked, resulting in more murmuring.

"So we can understand why you would do such a thing." One member of the prosecution called out before Bones could.

Harry let out a small chuckle at that. "Nothing would change..." Harry said; a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure your parents would like to know." Bones said with a softer, now kind voice.

"They needn't know anything. What's done is done, reasons and excuses be dammed." Harry declared.

Bones' hold on her gavel tightened, something that most people wouldn't have noticed, but Harry did. "Mr Weasley, please administer Veritaserum to Mr Potter." Bones asked, her kind voice disappearing, returning to the formal tone she had previously used.

"Perhaps a memory, instead?" Harry asked before Percy could even stand.

"What type of memory, Mr Potter?" Bones asked curtly.

"A... chat. Something that will help you understand if you would?"

Bones merely nodded. "Mr Weasley, if you will."

Percy came over, taking his wand to Harry's temple and extracting the memory.

Bones called over an Unspeakable for validation.

Harry sat there, waiting for something to happen. He'd been curious to see how they went about using memories in court, how they would show all the jury and even the members there to watch.

"Could you please tell us what this memory contains, Mr Potter?" Bones said.

"Where's the fun in that? You'll find out soon enough." Harry asked, an enormous grin on his face.

Bones looked as if she may argue, looking less and less patient as the trial went on.

"Fine, show us the memory."

All of a sudden, the room faded away, the cracked tile ceased to exist as the room morphed into the office of the deceased Albus Dumbledore.

Harry could still remember the smell, the slight smokey aroma of the room, Fawkes' prominent scent that latched itself not only to the room but to the man that sat at the desk.

"Ah, Harry. Is there any reason as to why I am graced with your presence?" Dumbledore asked.

A younger, much younger version of himself looked up. Eyes not hollow as they had become, but full of life. Posture not as bold as it had become, still unsure and scared in the unfamiliar setting.

"I was wondering if you could help me, Professor." the younger Harry said, taking his time to walk up and sit at Dumbledore's desk, eyes roaming freely around the office. Watching the different gadgets across the headmaster's shelf work their own magic.

Not many had the privilege of ever seeing the inside of the office, reserved for either the most or least promising individuals of each generation. One thing though remained the same from every student, or otherwise adult that first laid their eyes on it, it was magical.

"Help you with what, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked; though he looked as if the question had already been answered.

His younger version sat down opposite Dumbledore. "A war is coming."

"Indeed."

"Yeah..." His younger self paused, unsure of his next moves. "I was hoping you could train me."

"Train you? For what?"

"To fight." Harry had to give himself credit. It was a bold statement for such a young boy, only in his third year and so out of his depth.

"Why would you ever need that, Harry?"

"I want to protect my family, my brothers." the younger Harry said, his eyes meeting Dumbledore's, defiant; daring the man to contradict him.

"You do? And you believe yourself up to such a task."

"Voldemort will return, and with that comes danger to my family. I can't let them die."

Dumbledore looked almost pleased with the younger Harry, smiling benevolently down at him. "You believe him not dead, unlike so many others?"

"He will return! I'm certain of it." the younger Harry said decisively, with so much passion, so much vigour.

"Perhaps you are right? What do you believe you can do to save them?"

"I will do anything to ensure they stay safe."

"Anything?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his chair with a predatory grin. His eyes lacked their usual characteristics. They were hard, somehow asking Harry for more than what he'd said, asking Harry to give up any chance at hope, at his would-be bright future. Any chance at happiness. Dumbledore had asked for his soul.

"Anything," Harry said, raising his hand toward the Headmaster.

The chamber faded back into existence, the room deathly silent as they took in all that had been said. Harry's attention resumed on the broken tile, watching it inquisitively.

"Could you explain as to what that was, Mr Potter?"

"A memory?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I can see that. Could you enlighten us as to why you showed us that?"

"I was trained by Dumbledore to become a soldier, undercover and in the depth of The Dark Lord's ranks," Harry said, noticing the outraged looks among the courtroom, shouts emerged, calling him a liar, a fraud as he sat in his chair as if it were a throne.

Such insults had been frequent when he'd first been initiated; taking the mark on his left arm. The Death Eaters had hardly trusted him, believing him to be a fraud, working for another.

Those beliefs soon were silenced. The more missions he attended, the crazier he'd acted, imitating Bellatrix as much as he could, fervently sucking up to The Dark Lord in an attempt to gain trust.

"Albus Dumbledore planned this?" Bones asked, gesturing at all of Harry.

"Yes."

"You had contact with him during your time?" Bones probed further.

"Rarely. Severus Snape was my contact, feeding information between me and Dumbledore."

"It is convenient that the names you mention happen to be deceased, Mr Potter."

"I'm meant to be among that list, Director."

There went the murmuring once again. Harry had gotten bored with it, for the time being, instead; returning his sole focus to the broken tile, wondering what had caused it.

It baffled Harry that something so simple could enrapture him, consume his entire world, and block anything else out.

"Session adjourned. We will reconvene tomorrow at noon." Bones suddenly announced.

Harry was fine with that, hoping he would have some peace once again before he was shipped off to Azkaban.

As a pair of Aurors came and unlocked his shackles, only after petrifying his body, Harry idly wondered if the tile would be fixed upon his return. It seemed like such an easy fix, after all.

They levitated him to some cell within the depths of the ministry, somewhere that the light of day wouldn't touch, isolated from the real world.

Harry didn't mind. It was more than he deserved, anyway. Someone like him didn't belong in society, among good people who hadn't committed such atrocious acts.

Harry sat for what had felt like ten minutes, letting the day's events flow through his head. Harry wasn't exactly sure why he'd revealed so much, perhaps it was the joy in watching their reactions, their disbelief as he'd shown them the tip of the ice burg, the first in a chain of memories that would change what they believed so naively to be true.

There was a knock at the cell door. "You have a visitor." A man said, not really a large man. Harry idly wondered if he was in such a position, largely due to an inferiority complex routing from that height.

The door opened to reveal a woman, not just any woman, but his mother; Lily Potter. She looked as if she had aged a decade since he'd last seen her. When he'd left, on Dumbledores orders.

"Harry." She whispered.

Harry didn't reply, tilting his head, never breaking eye contact.

"Why?"

"I thought I'd made that clear in the courtroom, Mum," Harry said, eliciting a small sob from the woman. "This doesn't make everything all better, you know? I'm still the person who committed all those acts. What they say I did wasn't lies. I've done unspeakable things. I hope you're not here to defend them." Harry tutted.

"Dumbledore, he asked you?" Lily questioned, turning away from Harry.

"Everything I did was all my choice," Harry said, sitting up straighter. "The only reason I told them was that I thought I'd have a small bit of entertainment before I lived the rest of my hallowed life in a cell."

"You weren't going to say?" Lily asked in surprise, meeting his gaze once again.

"Why would I? Nothing would excuse the crimes I've committed. Do you not understand? Have I not made things clear enough?"

"How do you know that? What makes you think they wouldn't?"

"Do you even know the things I've done? Do you want to know? I'll tell you of course." Harry said, getting up close to her face. "There was a reason why I was so feared, Mother. You know... If there's a rumour about me, it's likely true." Harry clapped his hands together, causing Lily to jump ever so slightly. "Come on! Say a rumour, and I'll reveal if it's true or false. Call it bonding time."

Lily looked mortified, eyes wide and mouth agape. "T-They said you had an affair with... with Bellatrix," Lily said after a moment.

"That's what you ask?" Harry said, tilting his head. "You want to know about my love life? Well... I guess you are my mother... Inclined to know and all that. But really? First thing? But yes, yes it's true." Harry had a genuine smile on his face, but that quickly faded into one far more sinister. "I presume you'd not want details. I could tell you of course... but the unknown is so much better."

"Why Ginny Weasley?"

"Ooh, now we're talking!" Harry said, almost bouncing with glee. "I knew you had it in you. Poor Ginny, she really didn't deserve it... But we needed something believable, and what better than that... Shame Dad caught me when he did. The poor girl had only just started to scream... I still hear her screams, you know? They're ingrained in my head, her pleads for mercy, asking why I would do such a thing... But it was of course a necessity, we needed it to be believable."

"We?"

"Me and Dumbledore, you know, when that man asks for something -anything- he means it. Selling my soul to The Devil would have yielded better results..."

"Why did you believe it necessary to do what you did, Harry?"

"You think the war would have been won otherwise? No no no, missy. I tell you now, the things I did, they won you this war. You know nothing. Nothing of the little tricks I had to pull. You believe Snape -of all people- could have brought that information without me? I told him everything of importance, Mum, everything. Do you know of The Dark Lord's little immortality trick?" At Lily's nod, Harry continued. "How d'you think those items were found? I assure you, little Jim didn't have a clue what those memories Dumbledore showed him were, but I did. Dumbledore had brief excursions now and again, retrieve the items, ensure of their destruction. I was always there with him though, making sure that I was doing everything that was needed."

"You helped with that?"

"Why, of course? I helped with every one of them. Remember the little chat you had with Jim? The one he found out about his mission, where he was the last one. I made sure that it was done, Dumbledore's last mission for me: Ensure the destruction of Jim's little companion, the one that gave him his cool little talents, like a link to The Dark Lord or even Parseltongue... Always jealous of that, I can't lie."

The door opened, the small guard came in. "Time's up, you have to leave."

"See you later, Mum," Harry said, leaning into Lily's ear. "That was just the tiny tip of the iceberg though."

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A/N: So... What did you think? Should I continue? I must admit that I enjoyed writing this very much. I've had a slight block on how to advance my story Hell on Earth, so I wrote this whilst I figure out all the kinks of that.

I dearly hope this isn't too close to what Bourkem wrote. I wanted to make this my own, but I'm not sure if it came out like that with it.

Thoughts and comments are always welcome. I'm not great with grammar and spelling, so please tell me if there are some mistakes that are really noticeable; I haven't had this sitting for days as I would normally.

-Salt.