Chapter 4: Secrets Discovered

AN: This chapter has been edited. (2/25/06). Getting closer to updating!

James sighed. After talking with his daughter, he was very confused. Why on earth would Harry want to see Ronald Weasley? He was a very nice boy, very tall and gangly, with bright red hair and a face full of freckles. From what Albus had told him, Ronald was the boy that Harry was rumored to have captured (and heaven forbid, tortured) towards the end of the school year.

Was it fair for him to ask the boy to sacrifice his safety in order to see his son happy? And why exactly would this make Harry happy? All Kaylee would say was that this would make Harry happy. She said she was positive Ron would say yes, which was surprising in itself.

James almost stumbled on the last stair because he was so deep in thought. He reached the bottom of the stairs, and headed for the kitchen. However, a familiar melody made him stop. It sounded like a lullaby, one that Lily used to hum to calm Harry down years ago. James felt extremely confused. Things just weren't adding up.

His son was a Death Eater—or very close to being one. He knew that fact, and, as much as he tried to deny it, he thought he had seen the Dark Mark on Harry's arm. Harry was a Slytherin. His best friend was Draco Malfoy, son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, who had wormed his way out of going to Azkaban due to Voldemort's power reign.

His son was dating Miss Parkinson, daughter of Roland and Sandy Parkinson, two well known Death Eaters.

Kaylee always avoided Harry-as had Tom.

Harry never flew.

Harry always studied.

Harry hadn't played piano in close to six years.

Harry always snapped at Lily when she asked him questions. He never even talked to his own father.

So what was wrong with Harry? Now, according to Kaylee, he wanted to hang out with Ronald Weasley, a boy whose parents were notorious Order of the Phoenix members. A boy he had tortured over the end of the school year.

But Harry wasn't under any spell. Albus had checked him for any kind of lingering spells or potions. James had checked again in the middle of the month, just to be sure, but he'd come up with nothing. Harry really was Harry, and he was acting of his own free will. Either this was an elaborate ploy by his son, or the other possibility. Harry was changing—for the better. James refused to get his hopes up, just in case, but he was finding it harder and harder not to believe that Harry was truly coming around.

He tried to clear his head. For now, he had to find Lily and ask her about Harry's birthday.

Lily sighed. It had been so long since she sang that lullaby to Harry as a baby. He was so innocent, and so sweet. Where had she gone wrong? Why had her baby grown up to become a Death Eater? He was never into the dark arts as a child-in fact; he was always learning new things, things out of James' old Auror books. They'd humored him at first, but when they realized he was serious they'd taught him things out of old school books. He didn't actually have a wand of his own, but sometimes they'd let him borrow one of theirs.

Harry was an extremely intelligent boy, and also an extremely powerful one. He'd been doing accidental magic at age two, when Kaylee hadn't started until she was six. Tom had been seven and a half.

He never wanted to fly a whole lot like his brother and sister, preferring to learn magic or read books. In fact, she hadn't ever seen Harry enjoying himself on a broom until two or three weeks ago. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Harry had walked into the kitchen until he cleared his throat.

"Er-mum?" Harry said, softly, breaking her thoughts.

"Yes, Harry?" she said, keeping her voice calm even though she was jumping inside. It wasn't often Harry talked to her on his own accord.

"Do you hate Har-er-me because I went to Slytherin instead of Gryffindor?" he asked, somewhat hesitant. She looked at him, and in that instant he looked like a lost child again, instead of the cold teenager who'd been in the house the past five years.

Lily's eyes widened, and her heart sank. Harry thought she hated him! Granted, these past four or five years, she'd turned considerably colder towards her son. He'd come back from school very cold, sarcastic, and harsh. He ignored his family when he could, and when he had to talk to them, he was not the boy they'd known before. All of the members of the family had handled his changed attitude differently: Tom had become angry, and felt betrayed by his older brother. Kaylee was just sad and confused by her brother's actions, and James would pointedly ignore his oldest son. Lily thought her husband believed that it was his fault Harry had gone dark, and that he felt guilty for it all the time. Lily—she felt like she had let down her son. Why had he turned dark? He'd had everything as a child!

"Oh, no Harry, I don't hate you at all. Sometimes..." she paused, unsure if she should continue. "Sometimes I don't understand why you want to do the things you do, but I could never hate you," she said, trying to hold back tears. Her oldest baby thought she hated him! What kind of a mother was she, if her child was living in a house where he felt hated? She felt horrible. Lily had sworn that after her sister had treated her with so much hate that she would never treat anyone like that, especially not her own family. She knew how much it could hurt.

Had Harry lived this whole time thinking his parents didn't love him? Is that what drove him to be a Death Eater? No—if that was the case, she'd go crazy.

"Harry, why did you ask me that? Do you think I hate you?" she asked, desperately trying to tell herself it wasn't true.

"No!" he said quickly. "It's just...what if I had the option to be in Gryffindor, but I chose Slytherin?"

Lily was confused. Did Harry have a choice? Had the Sorting Hat given him a choice? She was hard pressed to imagine why Harry would choose Slytherin over Gryffindor, especially after hearing James' stories about Severus and the rest of the Slytherins.

"Honey, whatever you chose was your decision, and I'm sure you had your reasons. If you chose Slytherin over Gryffindor, that gives me no reason to hate you," she said, calmly.

Until then, Harry had been over her shoulder at something behind her. She gasped when he looked up at her.

His eyes were...different. They were old, dark, and full of emotion that a fifteen-almost-sixteen year old shouldn't have. These were not Harry's eyes. Yes, his eyes were dark, and they never brightened. They always seemed to be dull, hard eyes, just like Lily's grandmother. But they were never so old. These emerald eyes were aged beyond recognition; they held pain, sorrow, fear...and happiness that she hadn't seen in Harry's eyes in a long time.

They were not Harry's eyes. She knew what her baby looked like.

And his eyes did not look like that.

James walked into the kitchen, and found his wife and first son talking softly. Not wanting to interrupt, he began to leave but stopped when he heard Lily gasp. Turning around quickly, he saw Lily get up abruptly. Frowning, he walked over to his wife, hoping that Harry hadn't said anything rude or disrespectful. He'd gone almost a month without being cruel and harsh.

"Lily? Is everything ok?" he asked softly, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

She was very white, and shook in his arms. She looked afraid of something and he prayed it wasn't Harry's doing. He looked towards Harry. Harry looked down at his feet, but not quick enough to hide the moisture in his eyes.

"Harry? Lily? What's wrong?" he asked, getting concerned as Lily continued to stare at Harry like she'd seen a ghost. Harry just shook his head, and mumbled, "Nothing, dad. I'm going to go."

He walked out of the kitchen in the direction of the ballroom.

James turned to his wife, and asked her again what startled her. She blinked a couple of times, and shook her head, much like Harry had done just seconds ago. She twisted out of his grip, and followed Harry, with a determined stride James hadn't seen in a while. It was her old 'I'm going to get answers, and Merlin help the person that gets in my' walk, one that he recognized well from their days in school. He sighed and followed his wife, only to find his son sitting at the piano again, sitting there with his hands poised like he was going to play.

James frowned as Harry went stiff for a second, before staring off into space.

"Harry? Is something wrong?" he asked his son, but he received no answer. His son didn't appear to be able to hear him.

"Harry?" James asked, a bit louder. He still received no reply from Harry. He was shocked as Harry came out of whatever trance he was in before, and practically flew away from the piano. He heard a strangled, half-sobbed whisper come from his son.

"Hermione!"

Harry flung himself back from the piano as hard as he could, knocking the bench over in the process. He tried to take a breath, but found he was having trouble breathing. His lungs weren't working, for some reason. It could be the fact that he was so horrified---

"Harry! What's wrong?" he could hear people asking. Who were they? Their voices were extremely fuzzy. All he knew was that Hermione, his best friend, had been captured by Death Eaters. He'd just seen a memory of Potter's that he would have rather not seen. Hermione had been captured, tortured, and beaten by Death Eaters! In the memory he'd seen, she'd been so bruised and bloody that he didn't know how she could have survived it.

And worst of all, that bastard everyone called Voldemort had ordered Harry to cast one of the Unforgivables-crucio. He'd been forced to watch Hermione suffer as he cast the curse over and over, probably causing her to go insane. The thing that broke his heart was the look she'd given him in between curses—one of complete and total loathing. She hated him with the same ferocity that he hated Voldemort.

Harry felt sick-he knew that he himself hadn't cast the curse-it had been the other Harry. However, the thought of casting that particular curse on one of his best friends made him sick to his stomach. He broke away from the arms that had tried to surround him. He needed space-he needed to think, to sort his memories.

He ran, ran away from his parents, ran away from his sister who was sitting on the steps, and ran from his brother who was flying in the air in the back yard. He took off running down the street, not pausing to look back. He couldn't get the mental image out of his mind-his best friend was lying on the cold ground, twitching with pain. Her nerves probably couldn't handle any more. Her face was bruised all over the place, and had a couple cuts on the right cheek that hadn't been treated properly and were infected. It meant she'd been captive for more than one day.

Was she even still alive? Or had she gone insane with the torture?

How could a person do that? How could they hate someone so much as to cast that horrible curse on that person? It caused her so much pain-it broke his heart just thinking about it. How did you muster enough hate to try and cast Crucio, knowing it would cause that much pain?

And then he froze in his tracks-he'd tried to cast Crucio on Bellatrix Lestrange. He had been angry enough to attempt one of the Unforgivables on a human being.

But she killed his godfather-didn't she deserve it?

Was it right to hurt someone who deserved it?

Hermione definitely didn't deserve the horrid curse.

But Lestrange did, right? She killed Sirius; she tortured the Longbottoms until they went insane, and probably killed numerous other innocents.

She deserved it. She, herself, had caused so much pain that it was only right that she receive some of that pain. She had it coming. She, and all the other death eaters out there who had harmed numerous amounts of people.

Of course, what if they didn't want to be a Death Eater in the first place? What if they were spying, like Snape? What if their parents forced them into becoming a Death Eater, like Draco or Pansy?

Did they deserve pain for something they were forced to do?

Harry had to sit down. There were too many thoughts running through his head-he didn't know what was right or wrong anymore. Everything used to be black and white-if you used an Unforgivable, you were evil. If you killed people for fun, you were evil. All Death Eaters were evil. Now there were grey areas, especially after seeing Potter's memories. Who decides just what is evil? Who knows which people deserve to be shut in Azkaban, and those who deserve to die? Potter had a deeper reason to becoming a Death Eater.

Harry had finally come to the conclusion that Potter was a very reluctant Death Eater—not that he showed that Voldemort or any of the other Death Eaters. The emotions that came with the memories were never pleasant ones. When he tortured someone, there was no pleasure: pain, fear, and a hardened resolve were present, but never happiness as one would expect from a Death Eater. Potter was a Death Eater for reasons other than he simply like to torture people.

While these thoughts ran through his head, one image kept popping up.

It was his best friend, bleeding and shaking at his feet, refusing to give into the torture-refusing to plead for mercy.

James was concerned-for both his wife and his eldest son.

Lily hadn't said a word since Harry had stormed out-it was as if she were a zombie. Her face had paled, and her body, though it had stopped shaking, was weak. She couldn't stand or hold a glass of water to drink-she just sat in the chair James had placed her in.

His son had stormed out, with a look of pure pain on his face. It had been the rawest expression he'd seen on his son's face since the day he was born. Something had obviously disturbed his son-something horrible.

Kaylee and Tom didn't know what to do. Both had seen Harry run out of the house, but neither had been able to catch him. Kaylee went up to her dad and touched his shoulder.

"What's wrong with mum?" she asked.

"I don't know honey. She's in a bit of shock right now. Why don't you and Tom go upstairs for a bit?" he said, not really paying attention to what he was saying. What could possibly be wrong with Lily?

Lily was frozen. That boy was not Harry. He looked like Harry, with the messy hair and James' physique. All except for those eyes-those were not Harry's eyes.

Was he a Death Eater taking polyjuice potion? Had something possessed Harry? What happened?

She could hear her husband asking if she was fine. She chose not to answer- she needed to think, damn it! Why was it that this boy looked so much like her Harry? She hadn't seen any signs of polyjuice...but she was out of practice for recognizing that sort of thing.

She felt a warm presence next to her, and she realized that James had left, but Kaylee had come and curled up next to her.

"What's wrong mum? Is Harry ok?" she asked. Lily smiled at her daughter.

"Oh, honey, I hope so. Mum's just confused right now," she told her youngest child, not wanting to worry her.

"Is it because Harry's different?" Kaylee said, in an innocent sort of way that made Lily realize Kaylee knew much more than she was letting on.

"Kay? Do you know something that I don't?" she asked, with a little bit of anxiety in her voice.

"Well, mum, it's kind of hard to explain, and I don't think you'll believe me," she said.

"Why don't you try me?" Lily asked, turning so she was facing her daughter.

Kaylee sighed.

"Alright mum. It's like this-Harry disappeared. In his place came a new Harry-one from a different world. In his world, the new Harry is a Gryffindor. He isn't a Death Eater, and never plans on being one." She took a breath. "I don't think he ever really knew his parents, from the way he talks, but his best friend is Ron Weasley, and someone named Hermione Granger."

She stopped for a second to see if her mum was actually listening. Lily stared at her daughter, trying to see if she was pulling her leg. Kay was never good at lying-and she didn't appear to be lying this time. But honestly—alternate worlds? That kind of thing was only discussed in fairy tales. They weren't something of real life.

"Kay," she said, trying to find a way to talk to her daughter without completely insulting her. "Do you think maybe there is a different explanation to this?"

Kaylee frowned, and Lily immediately knew that her daughter believed what she was saying.

"Mum-I told you that you wouldn't believe me. I swear I'm not making this up. I can give you proof. Listen to everything I've found out," she said. And she began to inform her mother of the differences between the 'two' Harry's. This Harry loved to play Quidditch, something Lily was forced to admit that Harry did not particularly enjoy. He hadn't studied once this summer-something that usually occupied her son through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He didn't go to any Death Eater meetings. Lily also had to admit she hadn't found her son's bed empty once in the past month.

"-and he doesn't have the Dark Mark, and you know you can't cover it up, and he-"

"What do you mean he doesn't have the Dark Mark? I've seen it, Kay. We all have."

"I know, but it's not there! You can look for yourself!"

Lily looked at her daughter, checking silently for signs of a controlling spell. She wouldn't have put it past Harry in the past. There was nothing, and Lily felt a small bubble of hope growing.

Lily tried not to get her hopes up-but it was hard. What if this strange boy really was Harry from a different world? One where he wasn't a Death Eater, or he hadn't killed people? She put away the utter insanity of the situation, and allowed herself to dream. She'd always wondered what her son would be like had he been a Gryffindor. What if this was her time to find out?

Harry woke up. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he'd opened his eyes and the sky was dark. He'd left sometime around lunch.

His head was still spinning with thoughts and emotions as he walked back to his house. He'd run into the middle of a deep forest, one that surrounded the small house that the Potters lived in.

He really needed someone to talk to. Ron, or even Hermione. He had to make sure that Hermione was ok. Even though he knew his Hermione was perfectly safe, he couldn't help but worry about one of his best friends- even if he technically didn't know her.

He reached the house with one thought running through his head-what if Hermione had come here with Ron? It was entirely possible, right? If Ron had come, why wouldn't Hermione? Maybe there was a chance he could talk to her. He didn't think that his parents would be willing to let him visit a girl he'd tortured to insanity, but maybe he could sneak off sometime.

As Harry walked back to the house, a very disturbing thought hit him. Here, both of his best friends had suffered under his hand—Ron had been kidnapped at the end of the year, and Hermione had been tortured sometime during his second or third year, he wasn't sure.

Both his best friends had suffered—had any of his family?

Harry decided he didn't want to know the answer.