Chapter four: Revelations

Harry had been desperately glad to find the Weasley's in the kitchen at Headquarters. He'd missed his friend the way you'd miss a limb, and Molly Weasley's motherly form was always a welcome sight. He was also hoping to see some improvement in Sirius health. His godfather's brush with death had knocked the last of the teenage surety out of Harry's head, forcing a sort of maturity that would make him almost unrecognisable as the same boy to his teachers at the start of the next school year. That was in the future though, and Harry would not realise that for some time to come. In the meantime he was looking forward to spending time with family, even if they were a family created by his heart and not blood.

Beth and Wulfric had been pleasant guests. He'd been uncomfortable with the amount of attention they paid to him, and when Beth had tried mothering him once or twice it had taken all his self-control not to react ungratefully, but on the whole they'd gotten along pretty well. He'd had Hedwig go to Gringotts after the shopping spree Beth had insisted on and withdrawn money to cover the cost of the clothes they'd bought for him. There had almost been a huge row over it, and Harry had had to threaten to go back to wearing the hand me downs before they would give in. He was hoping that they weren't about to bring this subject up again now. He didn't take charity, not even from the Weasley's.

The study on the second floor was clean and the curtains were open, admitting the heat from the summer sun. The house had a different feel to it since Kreacher had died, and Harry was glad for that. The last thing Sirius needed was to be trapped in a gloomy place for his recovery. He made a mental note to get a bit of cleaning done while he was here - it was the least he could do for his godfather.

He was bought back to the present by a touch to his arm, and he jumped, before smiling apologetically at Beth. He chose to sit in an armchair near the door, and watched them choose the nearest couch, sitting together and holding hands tightly. Wulfric was running his free hand through his hair in a rather characteristic gesture, and Beth was fiddling with her hem. He watched them exchange glances, holding a conversation with their eyes, before Wulfric blew out a breath and turned to face him.

"We haven't been entirely honest with you Harry," Wulfric started and Harry folded his arms over his chest uneasily, "There are some things about us that you need to know, but it's hard to know where to begin."

Harry resisted the urge to quote the Sound of Music at him, which had been Dudley's favourite video when they were three. Harry had heard enough of that soundtrack from where he was doing his chores, or locked in his cupboard to be able to sing along note perfect.

"Fifteen years ago, You-Know-Who came to our house," Wulfric took a deep breath and Harry interrupted.

"His name is Voldemort," he knew his voice was cold, but he hated the way people grovelled over something as stupid as a name, "Actually his true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle and he's older than Hagrid. If you can't call him what he's become, at least call him what he was."

This was going to be Harry's major campaign for the year, and he was determined to succeed. He might not be able to break the habits the adults had gotten into, but he'd be able to influence his peers. Wulfric gaped at him, then smiled, nodding in appreciation.

"Tom Riddle, then," the bodyguard nodded, "Fifteen years ago, he came to our house. He used a perverted form of the time turner charm on my wife and I to send us forward into the future, and then he tried to murder our son."

"Is he alright?" Harry asked, his heart constricting with worry for a child he'd most likely never met. It seemed Voldemort's cruelty had unplumbed depths.

"Yes, he's grown into a fine young man," Beth spoke up, a proud glow in her eyes, "Somehow he survived the attempt and the destruction of our house. However when we arrived in what was to us the future, he was no longer at the house and we had no memory of him, each other, or even ourselves."

"Amnesia," Harry mumbled, suspicions stirring in his mind. The tale of the unnamed baby could have been his own, but for the fact that he remembered the green of the curse that killed his mother every time a Dementor came near him.

"Professor Dumbledore found us and a few months ago we finally regained all of our memories. He thinks its time to introduce us to our son," Beth pulled her wand, and cast a spell, first over Wulfric and then herself. Harry's suspicions were confirmed seconds later as the long red hair and green eyes of his mother appeared, followed by the wild black hair and dark blue of his father's eyes. There on the couch in front of him sat Lily and James Potter.

"I remembered your death," Harry blurted stupidly, "This isn't possible!"

"Harry, it's possible that the green flash you thought was for Lily was actually for you," his father said in a very gentle tone. It took a moment for the statement to sink in and then he bolted upright in horror.

"You knew!" he almost shouted, "All this time, you knew what I thought! That you'd been killed because of me! If you knew what I heard when the Dementors get close then you must have been told lots of things, all about me and Sirius and Remus! Do you know how long I've wanted you to be alive, what I would have done to make that happen? You must have known, you're my parents and you didn't tell me! And what was the last fortnight supposed to be? A trial? You thought you'd see if I was worth claiming as kin? What if I hadn't been? Would you ever have told me?"

"Harry James!" James snapped, his blue eyes flashing in anger, "That's a rotten thing to say! How could you…"

"How could I?" Harry's voice was heading towards a hysterical pitch but he couldn't seem to stop it, to stop the words and feeling that were gushing out of him like a burst pipe, "How could you? Does Sirius at least know? Did you at least tell him that he didn't hand you over to Voldemort?"

"We spoke to your godfather before we came to see you," James snapped, "Behave yourself boy!"

"Behave? Fine! Watch me behave!" Harry roared, furious and confused and so many other things all at once. He was out the door before anyone could stop him, hit the stairs running and started climbing up. Last year he would have tried to leave, to run out the front door, but even in this state he knew better to risk others with his hot-headed actions. He climbed until the worn carpet gave way to bare wood, and until that gave way to a rusty spiral staircase. He burst through the trapdoor at the top of the staircase, slammed it shut behind him and shot across the circular space he found himself in, fetching up against the far wall and sliding to the floor with a groan of misery. In the space of ten minutes he'd gone from an orphan to having parents. Right now they were probably ready to disown him again.

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