Before I start this chapter, go and check out the fantastic story, 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years,' by the wonderful Njchrispatrick. It is where the inspiration for this story came from. If you notice any similarities between the stories, I do have permission to use them

Steven Rogers.

The name, the sound and the look, was already worming its way into Harry's head. It brought with it a potent feeling of betrayal, a bitter taste upon his tongue, a ball and chain shackled to both his ankles. It was dragging him underwater, clogging all of his thoughts with sponges that absorbed every single thought trying to combat the intrusive name. Harry didn't need to say it. He already knew that when he said the name for the first time, it would be laced with poison, a sharp, unwanted, not needed anger. Not directed at anyone in particular. His parents, they weren't in the wrong. Neither was this man, Steven Rogers. His entire life had been flipped on its head. He was allowed to feel irrational anger, dammit!

He suddenly noticed that Ron was supporting him, even though he was slouched back in the comfortable couches. No, scratch that. They used to be comfortable. Now, they were a soft nightmare. He felt like he was sinking into them, being swallowed by what he previously found to be pleasant. It felt like the furniture was mocking him for his awful, awful luck. In fact, it felt like everything was mocking him. Except for Ron and Gladys. They were fine.

And why did it have to be him? He'd just finished the war, just killed Voldemort. The freedom of the last nine months was amazing, something he'd never felt before. To simply walk around without a cloud of expectation hanging of his head was a luxury. Living a normal life, with no surprises and normal worries, like bills and whether the pie in the oven was going to set the kitchen on fire. Just the thought of living his life as he wanted, no expectations of manipulations, made him feel like he was on cloud nine. That was before life threw this curveball at him, which left his feeling sick and barely aware of the world around him.

There were muffled voices around him. Harry couldn't be bothered identifying them. All he wanted right now was to break into the Ministry of Magic and find one of their new and improved time turners. He would only go back a few days. No. Screw that. He would go to a time where no one knew who he was, where he could live until he was an old man. The thought was becoming more and more attractive the more he looked at it.

And then a rush of anxiety hit him, consuming everything he was. He began quivering slightly, his eyes darting wildly around the room. His breath came in short, desperate gasps, making his fingers lose colour and his teeth tingle.

"I-I'm sorry, I th-think have to go," stammered Harry. His legs were shaky. His throat was dry. His ears were buzzing. "I can't stay here. I'm sorry, but I need to go."

Ron was extremely worried for Harry. He'd never seen his best friend in such a state, not even when he thought Voldemort was possessing him.

Gladys smiled at Harry through her wrinkles."Of course. Before you go, let me grab you something." She stood and left the room. Harry didn't even notice. Ron was doing the noticing for him now. It worried him that Harry had basically turned incoherent in the matter of a minute, but everyone was allowed their moments of panic. Soon, Gladys returned, holding a thin, beige file. She gave it Ron, who gently took it, tucking it into Harry's bag. "This file contains the information about all the times Lily and James came in here. I thought you might like it. I got it out when I made you tea."

"Thanks, I guess," said Ron. Harry didn't reply, his eyes glazing over. It looked like traumatic memories were playing over and over in his head. It made Ron feel useless. He didn't know how to deal with these things, and here Harry was, in the midst of what appeared to be a breakdown. What was he doing? Sitting down, with an arm around Harry, rather than doing something useful. He felt like he wasn't even trying.

"Also, Before you go, though, take this." Gladys took a piece of paper and wrote her phone number on it in elegant script. Ron shoved it into his pocket. He, for one, didn't ever want to see it again. "I am always happy to talk to you. You're welcome to come back any time." Gladys, with her kindly nature and calming voice, was beginning to grate on his nerves. All he wanted was to get Harry out of here, to a place where he felt safe.

"I think it's going to be a long while before that happens, somehow," said Ron.

"I totally understand. Bye, dears." Gladys waved at them, a sad smile on her face. Ron couldn't hate her, though. She'd told them the truth, just as Harry demanded. She couldn't have known how it would affect them, especially Harry.

"Bye." Ron said halfheartedly.

They left the building quickly. Outside, the air was frigid, the sky losing the last parts of light to the night. Harry was staggering along, eyes blank and arms hanging limply, seeing but not seeing. Ron was supporting him. When he tried to talk to Harry, he got no response. That wasn't surprising. So, Ron gently took Harry's wrist and disapparated into the lounge of the Burrow. Hopefully, Harry would feel more comfortable there.

Hermione was deep in a pile of documents, several recording sheet set to write down whatever she said levitating in the air around her. She heard them come in, but didn't look up from her work. As per normal, Ron thought. She did speak, though. Ron listened to her, while sitting Harry down on the cushy, patched couch.

"Oh good, you're back. I've found several clues that point towards a complex glamour being placed on him. I'm working on a way to reverse it, so Harry can go back to his real appearance. These documents are fascinating. I've come up with a few theories, and think that this could be a form of extremely well planned and executed revenge for something. What do you think, Harry?" He didn't reply, just stared emptily at the lounge. Hermione turned around. "Hello, Harry?" She got up and walked over to him.

"Hermione―" Ron began, but she wasn't listening to him.

"Earth to Harry Potter." She waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you alright in there?"

"'Mione," began Ron. Hermione whirled around, glaring. Ron cringed. This really was the last thing he needed right now.

"Don't call me that. You know I hate it."

"Now is not the time, Hermione!" shouted Ron. "We've just found out something that has made Harry have a bloody breakdown. So, forgive me, if I don't care about you hating a nickname right now!

"And what, pray tell, has caused Harry to go like this?"

"It isn't for me to tell."

Harry suddenly spoke up, his voice croaking. "Please, Ron. You do it." Relief flooded him. Harry was speaking, and aware of what was going on around them. That was a step in the right direction, from the little he knew about break downs and possible panic attacks.

"You sure?"

"I can't speak those words." Harry seemed broken. "Please, Ron. I-I can't." He put his head in his hands, shaking slightly. "How am I supposed to say it? My entire life has been changed!" His voice raised to a hysterical wail. Hermione now looked extremely worried, her eyebrows knitting together.

"What did you find out?"

Ron dug around in his bag and took out the file that Gladys gave him. He handed it to Hermione. "What we found out is…hard to explain." She opened the file. Her face immediately fell. "James isn't Harry's biological father. It's this guy called Steve Rogers."

"What?" said Hermione. She collapsed into a chair. "This...this is more than I ever thought could happen. How could this...I don't know how to help."

"I don't either."

"Talk with me, rather than about me, for one," said Harry. "I can hear what you're saying, you know." He chuckled weakly. Hermione and Ron immediately rushed to his side, squishing onto the couch alongside him.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"How were you ever going to? It wasn't possible for you to know."

"I should have figured it out, then we wouldn't be here. Oh, I've been so stupid!"

"Alright, just stop talking, both of you." Ron put his arm around Harry, stopping Hermione in her tracks. She did the same. It was a comforting embrace for Harry, who leaned into it, closing his eyes. Tears leaked out from under them, clumping his eyelashes together. "We're going to take this step by step, alright? We'll cross bridges when we reach them. Whatever fate throws at us, we'll be ready. Got it?"

"Yep," was the teary response from Hermione. Harry remained silent. No more words were said. For a few hours, they just sat there on the couch in each other's arms, taking comfort in the other's presence. It was exactly what Harry needed and began the long road to coming to terms with the truth of his heritage.

For a few days, Harry stayed at the Burrow. They didn't do much, just mundane, normal activities, like exploding snap and a small game of catch on broomsticks. It did wonders for him, just spending time with his two closest friends. To other people, the activities might be pointless. To Harry, though, they were worth more than all the gold in the world Eventually, he returned home after three days, reassuring Ron and Hermione he could do well on his own. Shemia was waiting for him, all claws and hissing. He hissed back at her.

For an unknown reason, he went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. His true face stared back at him. Looking a bit closer, he saw that his hair has a slight ginger tinge when under the light. His eyes were still a bright, clear blue. That was what he missed most about his old appearance, his eyes. Slowly, though, the names Steve Rogers wasn't like bile in his throat. It still left a bitter aftertaste, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. It didn't mean he wanted to keep this appearance. Quite the contrary. He'd decided that the sooner he was back to his old (fake, he kept telling himself, but he quashed the thoughts whenever they cropped up) appearance, the better.

He decided to take a trip to Hermione's flat (notifying her via patronus) and start searching through her library for a possible way to put a glamour back up. He really didn't want to see this face for any longer than he needed to. It wasn't that it wasn't handsome. Quite the opposite. It's just that it wasn't his. And this bothered him. It really, really bothered him.

When he arrived, Hermione was waiting.

"Hello."

"Hey."

"Why the short notice?"

"Glamour." That was the only word he needed. She sprung into action.

"Okay. I've actually prepared for this. I'll go get the documents from the vault. In the second draw in that chest," she vaguely waved to one of the many chests of draws in the room, "is a compilation of different types of glamours. I've ranked them in the order I think you'll like to use them." Harry blinked. She smiled. "I'm always prepared. It was easy to categorise them, anyway. I already knew the different types really well, from when we were on the run. What did you think I was doing when I left for a few hours?"

"Making tea? Feeding a cat?"

"No to the first, but I did feed your cat. She has quite the set of claws on her." Hermione rubbed her arm, probably where Shemia had clawed her. Harry chuckled. If that wasn't his little hellion, he didn't know what was.

"Don't I know it."

"Why did you adopt her?"

"Well, why did you adopt Crookshanks?"

"Touche, Potter." She smirked at him. If there was one thing Harry appreciated about her right now, it was the way she was treating him normally, not taking pity on him. "I'll be right back." She disappeared into another room. One funny thing about her flat was how over half of it was library and study space.

Harry took out the file. It was huge, with everything categorized neatly. Hermione was a madwoman. He sat down and cracked it open. The options he was presented with were overwhelming.

Hermione returned, arms overflowing with parchment. She neatly placed it on the desk. "Okay, so these are the basics. Before you decide what long term one to use, just do a normal, temporary one. You know how to do those. For long term use, I think the best one to go with would be one you can control at will, but will stay on until you make it go away. That means if you choose to change back to what you look like now, you can do it at will. The only drawback is that it takes a fair amount of energy to keep up. You don't notice it, though, as it's taken over however long you wear it. It's when you take it off that you notice it."

"Okay, what are the other options. There are only names and weird symbols here. I don't understand it, sorry." Harry cringed at Hermione's glare. She snatched the file off him.

"The extreme version is a permanent one, that you will never be able to reverse once you put it on. It involves heavy spellwork, three people to complete and potion that has to be brewed over a year long period. To prepare for it will take months. Gathering the ingredients for the potion, many of which are incredibly rare, will take the longest. I'm not even sure if some of them exist anymore. They certainly aren't in the Hogwarts potions cupboard, or the Professor's store, that's for sure." She stopped her tangent, looking expectantly at Harry. He gave her a thumbs up.

"Alright. Let's look at the others." Harry paused for a second. "Wait, how to do know they aren't in the Professor's store?"

"I never said such a thing."

"You did." Harry's eyes widened. "You've been snooping, haven't you?"

"Never."

"You're lying!"

Soon, the talk of glamours was forgotten as they began a playful argument, which devolved into a pillow fight.

Hermione won. Harry sulked. Then they continued their talk, going further into details. But, deep down, Harry knew what glamour he was going to pick. He'd always known, right from the beginning.

Nervously, Harry entered the muggle library. After being given a crash course in computers by Hermione, he was ready to begin the task he'd be delaying for two weeks. Reluctantly, he sat down in front of a monitor, opened a browser and tapped in the name that constantly lingered at the edge of his mind in every waking moment.

'Steve Rogers.'

Sorry for the slightly longer wait. School was a doozy today and I had to do all of this at home, while my parents were watching tv very loud. It wasn't meant to be super long in the beginning, anyway. If you want me to go back and add more description, I am more than happy too.

If you want to, you can join my discord server. Link is below and the server is about everything fanfiction. It's set to never expire, you just have to type it in.

/Kb9zJgV

Sincerely,
Mariadoria