"Lily, it's him. Take Harry and run!"
Voldemort almost smiled. The fool didn't even have his wand. Voldemort raised his own wand and…
… "Stupefy!"
The tall man fell to the floor, unconscious. Killing him would have been easy, justified even for his continued opposition to wizarding decency, but Voldemort knew that waking to find his child dead would be a punishment worse than death.
Voldemort ascended the stairs…
It wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort. It was Quirrell.
"You!" Harry shouted, half in surprise.
"Yes, me," the man said, no longer stuttering.
"But, Snape…"
"Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? But—" Harry almost jumped in surprise. Quirrell suddenly stopped talking and hunched over in pain. But before Harry could decide what to do, Quirrell stood straight again, except his face had changed.
"Damn Polyjuice," Harry heard him mutter.
"Wh— who are you?" Harry stammered.
The tall man laughed.
"Don't you recognise me, Harry? Don't you see the resemblance?"
And Harry could see it. He had even studied that face closely, over many hours, in the Mirror of Seised, during the Christmas holidays.
"I'm your father, Harry," James Potter said.
Harry's heart stopped.
Harry's dad raised his wand, but before he could cast any spell, the sound of thundering footsteps could be heard approaching.
James scowled hatefully.
"So, it was a trap. No matter… Incendio!"
And Harry's world turned into fire.
Harry was having trouble focussing. The Golden Snitch was hovering overhead! He tried to reach it, but his arms were so heavy.
"Good morning, Harry."
Harry blinked. A hand pressed his glasses into his hand and he put them on. The Snitch resolved itself into Dumbledore's glasses.
"Professor!"
"Please remain calm, Mister Potter, or I believe Madam Profrey will eject me from her Hospital Wing."
Harry looked around. Indeed he was in the Hospital Wing.
"Ron! And Hermione!"
"Both perfectly safe," Dumbledore reassured him.
"And the stone! And…" Harry paused and Dumbledore saw the conflict on his face and sighed.
"And we quickly come to the crux of the matter. Don't doubt your own recollection, young man, I saw him too. Luckily, I arrived in time to save you, though not to prevent his escape."
"But he looked like…"
Dumbledore took off his glasses and looked at Harry with compassion and concern.
"I cannot say for certain what transpired to lead up to what we both saw yesterday," he said after a pause.
"But…" Harry said, "can you guess?"
Dumbledore sighed again, then replaced his glasses.
"Naturally, it stems from Halloween night, 1981."
"The night that my par— that my mother died."
"Quite," Dumbledore said kindly. "I had always believed that Voldemort had killed your father, too, and that his body was destroyed somehow, but his appearance now certainly answers a few questions I had."
"So, what happened?"
"When your mother tried to save you, it cast a special sacrificial charm that reflected Voldemort's deadly curse back upon himself, destroying him, leaving you entirely unharmed." Dumbledore paused, surprising Harry by seeming to be lost for words. "The human soul," Dumbledore said slowly, "is very resilient, but the most depraved, immoral acts can still damage it. Voldemort had committed many such acts. When his body was destroyed… his soul… fractured… and a part of his soul, broken free, attached itself to the strongest living thing in that house."
"My dad."
"It does seem to fit the facts," Dumbledore agreed.
"But, where has he been all these years?!" Harry cried.
"There I can only speculate," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps it took him this long to repair the damage to his soul. Perhaps it took him this long to subdue your father's own soul and to take control."
"So my father is still alive?" Harry said, a glimmer of hope shining in his eye.
Dumbledore sighed, much more deeply than before. "I refuse to lie to you, Harry. There is a slight, faint possibility that your father's soul has survived." Harry gasped, emotions flickering across his face. "But!" Dumbledore said quickly. "We mustn't… allow that chance to stay our hand or hold us back from any action. Voldemort is too dangerous to let our compassion restrain us. It is better to think that your father died that night. It is better to honour his memory by defeating Voldemort once and for all. It is better to give James Potter mercy, by destroying his body that is being put to evil uses."
Dumbledore stopped talking and patiently waited for Harry to dry his eyes.
"I am sorry," Dumbledore said. "This is a terrible burden to place on anyone, let alone a child who thought his father had died nobly in his defence."
"I think I understand, sir. What happened to the Stone? And Quirrell?!"
"The Defence professor has been found, alive, but constrained. Your— Voldemort was using an advanced potion to copy his appearance. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."
"So, what happens now?" Harry asked.
"Well, tonight shall be the Leaving Feast," Dumbledore said with a smile. "And as we move into the next year, you shall continue to study and grow. But Harry," Dumbledore fixed Harry with a serious look, "you must prepare yourself to face Voldemort again."
Harry nodded, but he was unsure how he would react upon being confronted with his father again.
