The confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works.
~ Saint Augustine

Apparating back outside the church, Harry walked aimlessly through the graveyard, he had a few minutes to kill. The day was getting slightly cooler, and he wrapped his jacket around him a little tighter. There was a slight breeze, bringing with it the scent of flowers left at the graves of the dearly departed. The church loomed before him, and ducking inside, he saw a priest up at the altar, lighting the candles. The flickering lights seemed so warm, and Harry felt a shiver run through him. This place was holy, and he was less than pure. His actions showed that.

Walking down the aisle, part of him wondered what he was doing. He had heard of God before. The religion of Christianity that had taken over half of the world. They had started out small, just one cult in Rome, before gaining a foothold in the Roman Empire, and at Constantine's baptism on his deathbed, had converted the mighty Empire to their religion, leaving the old gods forgotten. His father had often spoke of it, wishing his could emulate the religion in his takeover. The people loved the idea of God, despite the blood spilt in his name. Voldemort wanted the same thing, but he would easily settle for being feared as well.

Sitting down on one of the pews, Harry looked at the frail man lighting the candles. His gait was slow, and it was obvious that he was weak. Still, there was something beautiful about his piety. He had devoted his life to his God, and that was worthy of respect, even if Harry felt nothing towards the belief himself.

"My name is Father Michael, can I help you child?" asked the man, seeing Harry sitting there, staring aimlessly at the stained glass windows. They were beautiful, the saints looking down on him, their expressions serene. Somehow Harry felt they could see him, despite not really existing, and his stomach coiled with guilt under their gaze.

"I am quite alright, thank you," he replied, glancing at the kindly old man.

"Then why do you look so troubled," came the response.

"I am not troubled," said Harry automatically.

"I have seen many people enter this church, their hearts heavy with guilt. You are no exception," said Michael, taking a seat next to him.

"I do not need absolution," replied Harry coldly.

"I never said you did," said the man mildly, "Now what troubles you boy?"

He seemed like such a nice man. He never knew Harry, he never knew who he was, he was just a person who wanted to help him. Suddenly Harry felt the need for this man to understand. To see that it wasn't his fault, that he too was a nice person.

But he wasn't, his earlier actions had shown this.

"I've just betrayed my family," said Harry finally.

"Why did you do it?"

"I, I had to, all my life I've thought that the Dark side is good, I was raised to believe it, but now these people drop into it, show me other ways. I don't know what to think. If I did his bidding, got him the information he wanted, I wanted to know if he would accept me like those people did. He never, and I've just given him the means to destroy them," said Harry, his voice hollow, and his eyes stared at the floor.

"You're one of those magic ones aren't you?" asked Michael.

"How do you know?" asked Harry, looking up at the older man, his fingers curling round his wand.

"I've lived here almost fifty years, in that time you notice a few things," answered Michael, smiling at him.

"I can't help but think I've done the wrong thing. I thought he loved me, and now I can see he's treating me more as a servant. I'm not his son," said Harry, feeling desperation seize his heart.

What had he done?

"You did what you did thinking it was the right thing. Now all you can do is learn and try to do damage control, Harry," said the man,

Terror gripped Harry at this, and he produced his wand from his jacket pocket, pointing it at the man, "How did you know my name?"

"I always knew there was something different about you, that you could be redeemed, Harry. I hadn't thought it would be so soon, but sometimes I can be mistaken," said the man, not caring that a wand was pointed in his face.

"Stupefy!" yelled Harry, watching as the beam of red light was negated. All the man did was raise his hand, and it was at this Harry knew who he was dealing with.

"I have spells alerting me whenever something is removed from my office without permission, Harry."

"Why the disguise, Professor?" asked Harry, seeing his teacher appear before his eyes, the priest melting away and revealing Albus Dumbledore.

"You would hardly have told all of that to me, now would you?" said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling slightly.

"No," answered Harry reluctantly, "I take it you're going to send me to Azkaban now?"

"Of course not dear boy, the list you gave Voldemort was fake, it is inconsequential," came the surprising reply.

"I've betrayed you all," said Harry quietly, his voice taking on the hollow sound again, "I deserve to be punished."

"I think everyone's reactions will more than suffice," said Dumbledore, his eyes turning to ice for a moment.

"They're going to hate me," whispered Harry, feeling his eyes burn.

He had lost two families today.

"They will be angry, yes, but answer me one question. Will you go back to Voldemort?"

Harry was speechless for a moment. His father, the man who raised him, would he turn his back on him? Would he aid in his demise? Remembering his last meeting, the way he had been treated, Harry initially thought yes. However, thinking back to his childhood, it hadn't been bad. Had it?

"He wasn't a bad father," confessed Harry, pulling at a thread on his sleeve.

"Harry, he tortured you when you made the slightest mistake. He taught you to kill at a young age-" started Dumbledore.

"I enjoyed killing," whispered Harry, "The power it gave me, for a moment I was free from hate. It was wonderful."

"Have you been filled with hate during your stay here?"

"No, after I met Ginny-" started Harry, feeling his shoulders relax at the thought of her.

"You love her, don't you Harry?" asked Dumbledore, smiling for the first time in their encounter.

"Yes," his voice was rougher than usual, but for once he never saw it as weak, it was only natural.

"Your father taught you love was weak, do you agree?"

"No, if someone hurt her I would do everything in my power to avenge her," replied Harry, if anyone even touched a hair on her head, he wouldn't rest until he found them. If anything, love made him more powerful.

"Then I think you have your answer," said the Headmaster.

A/N: Thank you for the feedback! Sorry this is late, I'm going to try and update once a week now that I've got more free time on my hands. I don't really know where this chapter came from to be honest. I had planned to have Ginny in this chapter, but then the idea of the priest came into my head, and then the idea of Dumbledore being the priest, and it just grew into this giant monster that I couldn't control. I hope you liked this chapter, I know it's short, but it's one of my favourites :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.

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