Disclaimer: Nope. Absolutely not. I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. Just ... nope.

Author's Note: Hello everyone. It's been an amazingly long time since I've written any long-term project for Harry Potter at all, and I am so incredibly sorry to any of my readers of the other stories I was working on. Honestly, my stress level over the past almost two years sapped my ability to really write anything. I did have plenty of good days, but my muse simply refused to cooperate with me.

However, recently I read a fic that completely restarted my love of writing HP fic. I've been reading this stuff for two decades now, but in all that time I've never found anything like this. The story is a one-shot, and it's called Becoming What You Pretend to Be by MaeglinYedi. The fic was awe-inspiring and opened up a brand new universe. It's like reading the Potter novels all over again, only in 10000 words and opening up a huge, wide corridor of possibilities.

This is a companion story to He Who Fights Monsters, and I have just posted the prologue of that story. That fic takes place BEFORE the events of MaeglinYedi's fic, and this one, Identity, takes place AFTER the events of that story. Even though I will try and explain everything that happened in that one-shot, you definitely should read it. Not only because you may need to in order to understand this, but because I think that story is so amazing that it deserves to be read and reviewed a TRILLION times over.

If the author does not wish for me to write a story based on their work, please let me know. But I honestly hope this is okay with you, and that you enjoy what I do with it.

Now, this prologue of this work involves a lot of reiteration of the events of Becoming What You Pretend to Be. Again, if you feel lost, please read MaeglinYedi's fic. You can find it on my favorite stories list, but of course, you can use the search feature on this site as well.

Please let me know what you think!

Identity

By: ChoCedric

Prologue

Sunday, June 25, 1995

It was past three o'clock in the morning, and the boy who, until Halloween of the previous year, was thought to be Harry Potter, tossed and turned beneath the covers of his bed in Gryffindor Tower, sleep having eluded him for the entire night. In only a matter of hours, a new day would begin in the ancient castle. Students would arouse themselves from slumber, partake in their morning routine, and go down to the Great Hall for a delicious breakfast. But all the boy could think, as he failed to make himself comfortable, was that he would be a complete mess come morning; all night long, he hadn't been able to fight the constant images of the events that had happened only hours previously.

It had been a warm evening, and the entirety of the Hogwarts population had been in the Quidditch stands, watching the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. It had been over an hour since the four champions had entered the maze, and anxiety had begun to ripple through the crowd. The young boy could remember the incessant yells of a woman as she spewed many a disparaging comment at Albus Dumbledore. "I demand to know where my client is, old man," she had seethed as she glowered at the wizard with nothing less than pure hate in her eyes. "You will tell me where he is this instant."

"We are doing all we can to understand what has happened, and where he and Alastor Moody may be located, Ms. Lockney," Dumbledore had said in that unflappably calm tone of his. "I assure you, we will find them. Do not worry."

As the boy had sat with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, he'd shuddered. The person Ms. Lockney was referring to ... he was a young boy, too, a boy whose looks he was very familiar with. After all, that boy looked exactly as he once had; the emerald eyes, the glasses, the messy black hair.

The boy who was missing was Harry Potter.

But wasn't it also Harry Potter who was sitting in the stands with Ron and Hermione? After all, that had been his name for as long as he could remember.

But no. That boy who had saved the Philosopher's Stone, who'd rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets, who'd found out the truth about Sirius Black, and the true treachery of Peter Pettigrew ... no, his name wasn't really Harry Potter, although he'd lived the boy's life for over a decade. He'd dealt with the fame, the hisses and whispers, the pain of the scar on his forehead, the strange dreams about Voldemort. But he wasn't Harry Potter and never had been.

No, he was nothing more and nothing less than an ordinary Muggle-born student by the name of Gabriel Bowman. His parents' names were not Lily and James Potter. Their names were Jessica Robbins and Kenneth Bowman, and they were murdered by Death Eaters in September 1981. Both his maternal and paternal grandparents were still alive, and he had seven aunts, six uncles, and fifteen cousins.

Now, whenever he heard even the names Lily Potter or James Potter, they sent white-hot hatred and betrayal flowing through his veins, so sharp and so poisonous it almost paralyzed him. He thought he'd known what pure hatred was - he hated Voldemort, hated his supporters, hated the vile acts they committed. But the Potters - the Potters were just as bad as any of them, even though they had proclaimed to be fighting them.

After all, the Potters were the ones who kidnapped him from the home in which his parents had just been murdered. It was because of the Potters that he'd been covered in blood glamors, forced against his will to look like Harry Potter. The Potters were the ones who, Merlin knew how, transfigured two house-elves to look exactly like them, and asked them to take care of Gabriel. To the rest of the world, Gabriel Bowman and his parents were all dead, and Lily and James continued to fight the war while trying desperately to take care of their young son, Harry. But in reality, the Potters fled with their infant son, the real Harry Potter, and left the house-elves, posing as Lily and James, with Gabriel, who looked like Harry, to play the ultimate prank against Lord Voldemort. The house-elves and Gabriel were nothing more than sacrificial lambs to fool the Dark Lord while the Potters and little Harry fled to safety.

Gabriel's real identity had been discovered after Harry Potter's name came out of the Goblet of Fire. After he'd told the goblet he'd accepted being champion for the Triwizard Tournament even though he'd honestly felt far from accepting any such thing, the goblet had continued to burn instead of the flames going out. All the events after that had been a whirlwind for Gabriel; everything from the paternity potion Snape had brewed, to Dumbledore exhuming the bodies of the fake Lily and James and discovering the truth, to Gabriel learning that he'd had family that had wanted him all along and he'd spent years living with people who weren't even related to him. The thought of the Dursleys was what really drove home his hatred for the Potters - they had snatched him away from a family who were mourning him, who thought he had been taken by Death Eaters after his parents were killed, used in some disgusting ritual that children who were kidnapped by the dark wizards were often used for, and then promptly disposed of. He'd been loved and cared about all this time, and instead of going to those who wanted him, he'd been kept in a cupboard under the stairs with very little food and no friends. And all because the Potters were sick, vile, disgusting cowards who would sacrifice another human being to achieve their ends.

As Ms. Lockney's grating voice had continued to hound Dumbledore, he couldn't stop the niggling thought that something really bad might be happening to the real Harry. He had been forced to return to Hogwarts to participate in the tournament - if he hadn't obeyed the contract, he would have lost his magic. Gabriel didn't know, nor did he care, where the Potters had fled to or how they'd been reached with the news about the tournament. He could only be grateful that Harry had only returned for the days of the three tasks, and he was only accompanied by his solicitor, Ms. Lockney. He would never forget the first time he saw him - both boys had been traversing the staircase to Dumbledore's office. There, he'd confronted him - he couldn't help but lash out, asking Harry how he felt to know that his parents were willing to sacrifice Gabriel in order to keep him safe. Harry, his lip trembling and looking so lost it made Gabriel's heart twinge, had said he hadn't known. Gabriel had believed him - it seemed logical that Lily and James weren't about to confess their heinous crimes to their son. But it was plain to see that Harry had since found out everything, and wasn't taking it well. He'd then blurted out about a prophecy, which was news to a shell-shocked Gabriel - he hadn't known that was the exact reason for the Potters' escape. Ms. Lockney had looked furious with Harry for mentioning this; it seemed no one else was to know. Even Dumbledore, who barely ever gave anything away, looked surprised for an instant that Harry had known about it; it was obvious the old man had known and didn't want the knowledge getting out. I shouldn't care - after all, I'm not Harry Potter, Gabriel had thought, but he couldn't escape the voice inside him. But I was. I still feel like him.

Throughout the rest of the year, as Gabriel had had the glamors reversed, gotten to spend time with his real extended family, and tried to come to terms with the earth-shattering revelations this year had brought, he couldn't help but feel sympathy and compassion for the real Harry Potter. Why was it Harry's fault that his parents had done such a vile thing? And why was it Harry's sister's fault? Yet another groundbreaking revelation was the fact that Lily Potter had been pregnant with a little girl when they'd made their escape. You couldn't help what your parents did, right? After all, Gabriel had grown up with the Dursleys, and he sure as hell didn't view THEM as role models.

So, it had made sense to him that he hadn't been able to stop the worry he felt for the other boy. Why hadn't he come out of the maze? Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor were all out now - and they weren't saying much about what had happened in there. Red sparks had flown into the sky, and teachers had flocked to where they'd seen them come from, rescuing the three champions from the maze. The only thing that had come out of their mouths was that they couldn't remember what had prompted them to send up the sparks. All of them looked rather fearful, and Gabriel hadn't liked it at all.

And then, suddenly, a huge THUMP! was heard. There, at the entrance of the maze, was a huge, crystalline cup.

And there, sprawled on the ground, was the boy who wore Gabriel's old face. His emerald eyes were wide open, glazed over and empty. His face had a look of profound shock and fear on it.

The next few minutes had been a complete blur. Ms. Lockney, Dumbledore, and several others had run over to the young boy's lifeless body. The scream that had ripped from Ms. Lockney's lips would haunt all those in the stands for years to come. "HARRY! HARRY!" Her keening cry was something animalistic and primal. "Wake up, sweetheart! Please! PLEASE!"

Dumbledore had crouched by her side, his voice quiet as he'd said words that shocked Gabriel to his core. "He's gone, Lily. I'm sorry."

And then, a woman who looked prim, proper, and stern, a woman who obviously took no nonsense and did what needed to be done, had said, "I'm sorry to do this now, Lily, but you're under arrest."

And as Ms. Lockney's Polyjuice Potion had worn off, Gabriel had known he was looking at the face of Lily Potter. As two Aurors attempted to carry her away, she'd kicked out at them, screaming her dead son's name hysterically. Hermione had squeezed Gabriel's hand so hard it hurt, and Ron had muttered nonsensical words that Gabriel couldn't understand even if he'd tried to. Lily's cries were those of a woman who now knew she'd lost everything. She'd finally sagged in the Aurors' grips, knowing that she had nothing left. Nothing left at all.

As the students had been herded back into the school, everything had been a haze for Gabriel. The night's revelations flew through his already battered mind - Ms. Lockney had really been Lily Potter, and Dumbledore had seemed to know that even before her Polyjuice Potion had worn off. Why hadn't she been arrested before now?

And, above all, Harry Potter was dead. Harry Potter was dead, and no one knew how. No one knew why. The boy who wore his old face was dead. An innocent boy, unaware for so long of the other boy who had been stolen from his real family, who had been living his life. Harry Potter, who'd returned to Hogwarts to participate in a tournament he'd probably had no idea about until he was forced to compete, who'd looked so vulnerable and lost when Gabriel had confronted him, had been killed tonight.

And now, hours later, as Gabriel Bowman attempted and failed to sleep, he knew that the last thought he'd had before climbing the stairs to bed was a beautiful lie. As much as he liked to think that he was now a regular Muggle-born student with a big, loving family, and he wouldn't ever have to involve himself in the affairs of Harry Potter ever again, he knew this wasn't the case.

Because Harry Potter was more than just the name of a young boy who had died cruelly tonight. Harry Potter was a legend, a legacy. Harry Potter was a symbol of hope. His name might be Gabriel Bowman, but he had lived and breathed the name and legacy of Harry Potter.

And Gabriel Bowman couldn't help but think that whatever had happened tonight would have ramifications for years to come.