Authors note: Ok, here's story two. Totally unconnected from Story One, but same rules. Include some version of deathly hallows and make the last word "scar."

Story Two: Judgment

Harry looked around, confused. Where had he just been? More importantly, where was he now? The last thing he remembered was lifting up a curtain…And now here he was, in a dark room with purple fog swirling all around him. Suddenly he realized that he was not alone. A man appeared from out of the fog and reached out towards him. Backing away reflexively, Harry collided with the wall. The man loomed over him, and it was then that Harry recognized him.

A small, familiar pain gripped his heart as he asked, "Dad?"

"Yes, Harry, it's me."

Harry's eyes widened. James pulled him into a hug. Harry couldn't help but smile, finding that this was in fact his father, not distant and incorporeal but real and warm and fatherly. Completely in awe, he was startled when his father pulled away to stand in front of him and said, "I can't believe they really did it! They really brought you here!"

"Wait, what, Dad? Who did?"

"The Deathly Hallows," James said, as though it were obvious.

Harry's hand flew to his wand. This couldn't be his real father, here, speaking as though the Deathly Hallows were his dearest friends.

"Whoa, Harry, what's wrong?" James asked, confusion marring his features.

"The Deathly Hallows…The Deathly Hallows….they are responsible for the deaths of my parents! My real parents!"

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at James' nose.

"My father…would…never…" Harry trailed off, anger choking his voice and causing his hand to shake.

James reached up and grabbed Harry's wrist and held it steady. The sheer audacity of the action made Harry pause and look at the man before him.

"The Deathly Hallows are the council that determines where you will spend eternity."

Harry's hand dropped to his side. Those voices… It was them he had heard, lurking behind the veil. Suddenly it made sense. He looked down, ashamed, then returned his gaze to his father, who looked calm and oddly serious.

"I have spent these years in this chamber, alone in the dark, awaiting their judgment. They took my memories, weighing my worthiness based on my actions. I guess I passed, because now I am told I can regain them with you. That's why you have been sent here. You only have a small amount of time, but it should be enough, to talk with me, to help me as much as you can, before I go off to the place that's meant for me. They told me I have a wife and that you're my son but that I was never able to get to know you. Well, it's nice to meet you," James said, laughing and extending his hand, which Harry shook.

Harry smiled again. This was a great opportunity, the sort of thing he had dreamed of as long as he could remember. But how was he to help his own father regain his memories? He hardly knew anything about him.

"Now, where should we begin?" James looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "What can you tell me about my wife?"

"Well, to be honest, Dad, I never really got to know her either…" Harry said sheepishly.

James looked crestfallen. Harry stumbled for a response.

"Well, that is…Er, you met her at school…at Hogwarts. She was very smart and you were sort of a trouble maker…and, um, everyone says my eyes are just like hers!" Harry finished, gasping for breath.

James laughed. "Me, a trouble maker? Hard to believe, isn't it?" he said, winking at Harry. "You have your mother's eyes, eh?"

James put a hand on each of Harry's shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. He grinned, then raised an eyebrow. Scrunching up his face, James took his thumb and ran it over Harry's forehead.

"By the way, Harry, how did you get that scar?"