Author's Note: Merry Christmas to everyone! I know I haven't been the best updater person, but I have been in a bit of a writer's block lately so I apologize not only for the lateness of this chapter, but for the crappiness of this chapter. However, in honor of the holidays, I have decided to update all of my fanfictions (except for the oneshot)! It is my Christmas gift to my readers! And for those of you who do not celebrate Christmas or are not Christian: too bad! I am Christian, therefore I shall bid you a Merry Christmas because that is part of my religion. Political correctness is a pain in the hindquarters so I am not going to bother. If you are not Christian or do not celebrate Christmas, just assume that I went through all of the diplomatically required salutations and have a nice day. These are my opinions, and if you have a problem with them you can just review and open up the huge can of worms when you discover you've gotten yourself into a political debate with me. Republicans rock, and George W. Bush has done a great job. Merry Christmas and GOD BLESS AMERICA!
God bless all of the other countries too, but America is my favorite!
And now you are all free to yell at me for my undiplomatic and unneccessary author's note, and for the crappiness of this chapter.
"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 Wizengamot 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.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ MERRY CHRISTMAS/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"So does this mean he really was Harry Potter this whole time?"
"But how did it get there? It wasn't there before!"
"Did Dumbledore bewitch him to make it appear?"
"That is quite enough, Mr. Macmillan. Harry, wake up and open your eyes." Harry immediately opened his eyes to Dumbledore's request, tired of pretending to be passed out. His forehead was burning as if someone had branded it with a hot iron.
As soon as Harry opened his eyes, he shut them again. He'd forgotten just how bright sunlight was!
"Come now, Mr. Potter. Open your eyes."
This time Harry squinted, allowing his eyes to slowly adjust to the light. He was surrounded by what looked like the entire school, everyone looking at his forehead. Harry felt someone thrust his glasses into his hands, and he put them on. Dumbledore was seated on the edge of his bed, looking down at him. Everyone else was standing a good three feet off, except for Ron and Hermione, who were standing by the bed on either side.
Rubbing his forehead, Harry asked, "What happened? Where are we? This doesn't look like the Wizengamot chambers…"
Dumbledore gave a soft laugh. "No, this is not the Wizengamot chambers. This is the Hogwarts hospital wing. I brought you here after I managed to convince Mr. Fudge that you are Harry Potter, and that your scar is not an illusion that I created."
"My scar?" Harry stopped rubbing his forehead and felt around. Sure enough, there were the slightly raised lines that had been there every day of Harry's life before he had found Nutriderm Plus. Dumbledore conjured a mirror and gave it to him: Harry saw, in this totally normal mirror, a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt right in the middle of his forehead.
"Bloody hell…" murmured Harry.
"Hey! That's my line!"
"Sorry, Ron."
"Bloody hell!"
"Are you happy now?"
"Very."
Harry looked back into the mirror, fingering the scar as if he was afraid it would randomly disappear on him.
"How did you do it?" Harry asked Dumbledore.
Dumbledore smiled. "Like I said: the Mirror of Erised sometimes—rarely—gives the viewer their deepest desire. That desire has to be not for a material possession, but for something that cannot be gained by monetary or skillful means. In this case, you did not want your scar; what you truly wanted, Harry, was your identity."
Harry sat up, excited. "So if I looked into the mirror now, would my parents come back?"
Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, but he replied firmly. "No, Harry. Nothing can bring the dead back to life." Dumbledore stood, stretching his arms exaggeratedly. "And now, if you don't have any more questions, I shall take my leave of you."
Harry watched Dumbledore go, but just before the headmaster could leave the hospital wing, he called out, "Wait! What happened at the Wizangamot? Am I allowed to stay at Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore turned back, his smile fully restored. He responded in an amused tone, "Did I not just tell you that I brought you here after convincing Cornelius that you really are Harry Potter? Of course you are staying at Hogwarts." And with that the headmaster left.
Harry sank back into the pillows on his cot, suddenly uncomfortable with all of the people staring openly at his forehead. He flattened his bangs over the observed area, hoping to draw attention away from the spot, but still everyone stared at the newly returned scar as if it was something out of a fairy tale.
Stupid scar, Harry thought, wishing it would just go away for this one moment.