Author's Note: A really old story of mine that I decided to replace and polish a little.
Disclaimer: The fabulous world of Harry Potter does not belong to me. The last time I looked in a mirror I was not J.K. Rowling.
"The Truth"
"Too bad no one will ever know," Hermione Potter sighed as she sipped her tea.
"Know what, Mum?" her 24-year-old son, Shane, asked curiously, looking up from the current day's issue of the Daily Prophet.
"What really happened. It all seems a waste." She seemed lost in some sort of reverie for a moment before she continued. "The public had been living with Voldemort in their midst for years, and they'd been completely oblivious to it." She let out a sort of wry, bitter laugh. "I suppose it really started when your father and I were in our first year at Hogwarts. That's when a select group of people discovered that Voldemort was alive, if barely, and attempting to rise again." She sighed once more and idly stirred her tea. "There were so many misconceptions about Harry, there still are. I remember in our fifth year when the Daily Prophet turned against him, acting like he was some standing joke, some deluded, attention-seeking little boy. And what was really infuriating was when they reported nothing at all when he was attacked by dementors. Rogue dementors! They knew very well and good that he was not lying about them, and the Ministry knew too, why else would the Wizengamot let him off when he was trialed? If he was really guilty, they could have incriminated him, no questions asked… And they told us that we needed to get our priorities in order! But, of course, it was them in reality. The Ministry and their foolish pride." She shook her head, annoyed by the memory.
"We're talking about the Daily Prophet and the Ministry of Magic?" Shane asked incredulously. The Ministry he could imagine having been corrupt at some point, his father had told him on occasion that Lucius Malfoy himself had been on close terms with Cornelius Fudge, a former Minister of Magic. Shane had never met the man nor seen him in office, as his term ended long before Shane was born, but he had heard some nasty things about the man. From his father and mother, mostly. But the Daily Prophet was very prestigious, indeed. He had just had an internal battle over whether or not to turn down a job offer from them in order to become a free-lance writer.
"It was very different back then, love," Hermione explained patiently. "Corrupt. Both of them. The Ministry and the Prophet went hand-in-hand, you see. Many people didn't realize it at first, though. Most believed the lies they told about Harry and Dumbledore, until it was too late, that is. But of course, you've heard the story countless times. Unfortunately no one else has. I suppose they never will."
Shane took a moment to consider this. His mother was right, the world would never know the truth about what his father had sacrificed, what he had done, how many hardships he had to go through to save a world that was so against him.
Shane smiled to himself as a sudden inspiration struck home.
That night, Shane Potter was alone in his flat, unable to sleep. He thought of all the stories his father and mother had told him. They were so real to Shane; it was almost as though he had experienced the events himself.
He took out a quill and some parchment. He chewed on the feather thoughtfully for a moment before he began. He smiled. It was time the world knew the truth. He began to write.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…