Christmas came and went with surprising speed. On December 28th, Dumbledore announced to Harry that he thought his emotional turmoil was at an end, and that they were leaving that night for the Ministry of Magic.

"What?" Harry gasped when Dumbledore told him this news. "But sir! I thought you had tortures of soul that needed—!"

"Oh, I assure you Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling, "those tortures of soul are no more than unpleasant memories in my Pensieve now. Be ready to leave at seven o'clock tonight."

Now, at six thirty, Harry went around to all of the people he had become somewhat close to since arriving at Hogwarts. First he gathered Ron and Hermione around him and told them that he was leaving, and probably not coming back.

"That's a load of rubbish, Harry, and you know it!" Hermione chastised. "You'll be coming back tonight, triumphant from a Wizengamot victory. It'll be the talk of the school all day tomorrow: there is no Jonathan Falso at Hogwarts, only Harry Potter."

Harry turned to look at Ron, who wasn't meeting his eyes. Harry knew that Ron agreed with him. Neither boy thought Harry was going to be returning to Hogwarts for some time. Ron cleared his throat.

"It was nice getting to know you, mate," Ron said, extending a hand to shake with Harry. Harry took the hand, but the shake only lasted a few moments before Hermione bowled over the two boys, hugging them both with tears streaming down her face.

The next person Harry went to see was Draco, who was sending an owl off in the owlry when Harry finally managed to find him.

"Just writing to my father," Draco explained. "Had to thank him for the Christmas gifts and everything. So what's going on? Why so melancholy?"

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, not sure he should even be saying good-bye to Draco. It's not like they were full-fledged friends or anything. But Draco had been one of the only people to believe Harry about his identity, and Harry wanted to thank him, at least.

"I'm going to trial tonight," Harry finally managed, taking his hands out of his pockets to lock them firmly behind his back. He wanted to look at least a little brave about what was going to happen tonight. "Remember, from last month? Dumbledore's tortures of soul are better now, so we're leaving in a few minutes to go before the Wizengamot."

Draco nodded, his lips pursed. "What are the charges again?" he asked, a slightly sarcastic tone hidden in his voice. "Impersonating a celebrity, right?"

Harry nodded, smiling at the injustice of it all.

Draco shrugged. "I think you'll be fine. As long as the wizards on the Wizangamot aren't easily bought…"

Harry stared at Draco, not quite believing what he had just heard. "What do you mean, 'easily bought'?"

Now it was Draco's turn to look uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking anywhere but at Harry. "It's my father…" he said slowly, pausing to clear his throat. "He has a lot of influence at the Ministry, and he's… well, he's never really believed that you're really Harry Potter. So he's bribed the Minister, and the members of the Wizengamot, into pulling this trial together."

Harry stared at Draco. "Your father is the reason why I'm going to trial?"

Draco shrugged. "Why else do you think the Wizengamot is taking such a stupid case? Come on: you're being put on trial for making a fool of the entire wizarding world. And while I'm sure that won't look good on any future job applications, I'm pretty sure it's not against the law."

Harry forgot about appreciation. He forgot about friendship. Right there, he turned his back on Draco Malfoy and went to look for the last person he wanted to say good-bye to: Hagrid.

Hagrid's hut was dark and empty. Harry couldn't find the gamekeeper by the lake, in the castle, or on the Quidditch pitch. Not noticing what time it was, Harry was surprised when Dumbledore finally came to take him to the Ministry of Magic, reminding Harry that he had been supposed to meet the headmaster at seven; it was now 7:15.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore said after gently scolding Harry on the importance of promptness, "have you ever performed side-along Apparition?"

"Erm, no sir."

Dumbledore took hold of Harry's hand, and before Harry knew it he was feeling like someone was trying to squeeze him through a funnel. Just when he didn't think his body could take much more abuse, the feeling stopped, and Harry found himself in front of a fountain with bronze figures of magical creatures.

"This way, Harry." Harry followed Dumbledore through the hallways of the Ministry of Magic, taking an elevator up to the top floor. Many doors stood on each side of the hallway that Dumbledore led Harry into when they left the elevator, but Dumbledore took Harry to one near the far side of the hall, fifth from the end.

"Ah, good, you're here," Harry heard Cornelius Fudge say smugly when he and Dumbledore entered the room. "I was beginning to think you would never show up, Albus."

"You should know me better than that by now, Cornelius."

"Well, you never know," Fudge replied coolly. "For all we know, your tortures of soul could have been causing you to have a psychotic breakdown or something."

Dumbledore smiled up at Fudge and the numerous witches and wizards seated at the floating podium. "How kind of you to worry," he said lightly.

A moment of silence ensued, during which Fudge glared down at Dumbledore from his high-backed armchair. Finally, the Minister cleared his throat and began: "Now, on to business—."

"Yes, on to business," Dumbledore interrupted. "I will be acting as Harry's adult representation, since at the current time I am his headmaster, therefore his temporary legal guardian."

A loud pounding sound brought Harry's attention back to the Minister of Magic, who had slammed his fist down on the podium in front of him. "Dumbledore! You cannot be the boy's representation because you are a member of the Wizengamot yourself!"

"However," Dumbledore began in a gentle voice that told Harry that the headmaster was about to contradict the childlike Minister, "the code of the Wizengamot states that, in a case in which a Wizengamot member has also been called to be a child's adult representation, then the parental duties are to come first."

Fudge looked livid. "You have not been called to be the boy's representative, therefore you are to serve on the Wizengamot!"

"Did I say that the member had to be called by the Minister?" Dumbledore recalled, looking 100 respectful in the way that he was talking to the Minister; no trace of insolence was hidden in his voice. "I meant to say that if the member was called by duty. Surely none of us here can disprove that it is my duty, as the headmaster of Hogwarts, to represent the student that is currently entrusted into my care by his aunt and uncle?"

Harry saw all of the witches and wizards around Fudge—members of the Wizengamot—nodding in agreement with Dumbledore. The Minister, on the other hand, looked like he could strike the headmaster. However, Fudge had no other choice but to allow Dumbledore to continue as Harry's adult representative, as all of the other Wizengamot members agreed with Dumbledore.

"Jonathan Conor Falso, you have been summoned before the Wizengamot today to be brought before justice, under the charges of impersonating an international hero." The words sounded wooden as the Minister read them off a long roll of parchment. "How do you plead?"

"Erm." Harry hadn't been expecting the Wizengamot to actually ask him if he thought he was guilty or not. "Innocent."

"Not guilty, Harry," Dumbledore corrected gently. "No one is completely innocent; you are simply not guilty of this particular crime."

"Sure." Confused, Harry looked back up at the Wizengamot. "Not guilty, then. And my name's not Jonathan Conor Falso; it's Harry James Potter."

"Does the adult representative have any opening statements?" Fudge asked, still reading off of the roll of parchment.

Dumbledore smiled. "None whatsoever, Cornelius."

"Very well, then. Does the accused have any opening statements?"

"Yeah." Harry surprised himself when the word left his lips, and it apparently shocked the Wizengamot as well; every single one of the witches and wizards had turned to look at Harry with stunned expressions. Harry supposed that most of the people who entered this room to be prosecuted were either too scared or too intimidated to speak up for themselves. "How much money did Mr. Malfoy pay you to do this?"

There was a sharp intake of breath in reaction to Harry's words. Even Dumbledore looked warningly down at Harry from behind his half-moon glasses. Still, Harry continued.

"I have never heard of a law, either magical or Muggle, that says that a person can't tell the truth. I am Harry Potter. I made a stupid mistake at the beginning of the year, and now I could be sent to Azkaban for it. The only crime I think I've committed is vanity!"

"Mr. Falso—."

"Potter! My name is Harry Potter!"

"MR. FALSO!" Harry didn't insist on his name this time; the fury in the Minister's voice was too intimidating to counter. Now Fudge said, through gritted teeth, "You have just accused every member of the Wizengamot of taking bribes. That is a major insult to us all. Tell me why I should not throw you out right this instant."

Harry looked around the room, trying for one last attack. When he turned back to the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, Harry shrugged. "Feel free to throw Jonathan Falso out," Harry said lightly, spreading his hands carelessly. "Personally, I don't see him anywhere…"

"Harry." Harry looked into Dumbledore's eyes; the eyes behind the half-moon lenses were warning him not to continue. Harry closed his mouth, hoping Dumbledore had a plan to get him out of this.

Dumbledore approached the floating podium of the Wizengamot, nodding his head respectfully. "I beg you to present your first piece of evidence, Minister."

Fudge took a whole minute to make sure that the room was silent, and probably to assert his authority, Harry thought. When the minute was over, Fudge leaned back in his chair, pointing to Harry's forehead.

"As everyone knows, the night that Lily and James Potter were killed, one-year-old Harry Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The child did so, with only a scar to show for his success. That lightning-bolt shaped scar has always been the trademark symbol of the young hero, and as everyone in this room can see: this boy does not have such a scar."

Harry nearly jumped up to that podium—he would have somehow figured out how to jump fifteen feet!—and strangled the Minister. As it was, he had to settle for yelling furiously, "I am Harry Potter! Tell me how I can prove it to you!"

"But you haven't got a scar!" one witch near the end of the podium pointed out.

"I had a scar!" Harry said, giving the woman a hard glare.

One wizard seated next to Fudge actually rolled his eyes at Harry, saying, "You don't have one now."

Harry turned to this wizard and rolled his own eyes, just to be insolent. "I got rid of it," he explained.

"Come on, who are you really?" another wizard said, sitting about an eighth of the way down the podium.

"I'm Harry Potter!" Harry yelled.

"I believe," Dumbledore said softly, causing the heated tempers in the room to simmer down a bit, "that it is time for the defense to present evidence."

The door into the room opened, admitting a large object covered in a sheet and being pushed along by a gigantic, hairy man: Hagrid. Hagrid brought the covered object into the center of the room and left, waving a frantic good-bye to Harry before shutting the door completely.

Dumbledore strode over to the covered object. "I present to everyone present: the Mirror of Erised." With that, Dumbledore pulled off the sheet with a flourish, revealing a beautifully crafted, golden mirror with runes engraved at the top. "As I am sure the members of the Wizengamot are aware, this mirror shows the viewer their deepest desires. On rare occasions, though, the mirror can give the desire to the viewer. While this occurrence is very rare—I believe it has only happened twice in its multicentennial existence—it is not unknown."

Even though Dumbledore appeared to be addressing the Wizengamot, Harry had a feeling that Dumbledore was shouting in his ear, "Hint hint! Wink wink!" Harry took note of this conversation for future reference, wondering when this information would ever come in handy after today.

"Harry?" Harry realized that his mind had gone off on a tangent, and that Dumbledore was now gesturing for him to step forward to look into the enchanted mirror.

Harry did as he was bade, stepping dutifully forward. He raised his eyes to the cool, smooth surface of the mirror and saw:

Himself. Harry James Potter, messy black hair, bright bottle green eyes, Hogwarts robes in Gryffindor colors. Just Harry, but with one difference: there was a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Suddenly, Harry bent double; there was an excruciating pain in his forehead, as if someone was trying to rip his head right down the middle. Harry clutched at his forehead in pain, his eyes scrunched up as he cried out.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll hold him off—!"

There was the sound of someone crying and stumbling out of the room, but then a door burst open somewhere. There was a cackle of high-pitched laughter, and then…

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

In the Wizangamot chambers, Harry's green eyes flashed an even brighter green for just a moment.

Then there was the sound of weeping, and a woman pleading: "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything—!"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

"Please! Don't kill Harry!"

"STAND ASIDE, WOMAN!"

"PLEASE DON'T KILL MY SON!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry's eyes flashed brilliantly green once again before the whole world—both the one that he was hearing and the one he was seeing, in which a dozen witches and wizards were bending over him with worried expressions—went black, and Harry neither heard nor saw anything more.

Author's Note: I would like to give credit to the dementors and patronuses of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for giving Harry the visions that helped me to write the dialogue that Harry hears in this chapter. As usual, everything belongs to JK Rowling, except for those things that are, of course, all mine!

Thanks to all of you who have been reading and keeping up with this fic! I know it's difficult to imagine a scar-less Harry (even my Lit teacher said "Well, no one's reading your fanfiction because the lightning-bolt scar is part of what makes Harry, Harry!" (at first I wasn't getting much of a response to this fic...)) but I thought that the concept would be interesting to play around with. For all of you who are wondering: this fic will not continue all the way through Hogwarts. I don't have the time, patience, or the ability to sit around copying text from the books all day. I might do a onefic based on this story later, though... my friend gave me an idea for it, so as soon as this fic is completed, keep an eye out!