Actions

Work Header

Becoming What You Pretend to Be

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Notes:

And here"s the other part of the story. It was a lot of fun playing around with some of the tropes in this story.

If anyone has any tropes they"d like to see subverted, you"re welcome to leave a comment with your suggestions. I"m always on the lookout for more inspiration for this series.

Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think. Your comments always make me want to write more.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Ron and Hermione were anxiously waiting for him in the common room. Harry’s stomach fluttered with nerves. He didn’t think they’d reject him because of the way he now looked, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still worried they might.

“Wow,” Hermione said when Harry strode up to them. For some reason she couldn’t stop staring at him. “Harry. You look great.”

“You are Harry, right?” Ron said, only half-joking while he looked Harry up and down with wide eyes.

“In our first year, when we went to warn Hermione of the troll, you managed a levitation charm for the first time and accidentally knocked the troll out,” Harry said with a grin.

“Yeah, you’re Harry,” Ron finally conceded and slapped Harry on his back. “Good to finally meet you, mate.”

“Do you still want us to call you Harry?” Hermione asked as Harry sank down on the couch in between his best friends.

This was something Harry was still not sure about. He knew his name was really Gabriel, but he’d been Harry for so long that it just felt really strange to be called anything else. “Would it be weird if I wanted you two and Sirius and such to still call me Harry while everyone else calls me by my real name?”

“Not at all,” Hermione assured him with a comforting pat on his knee. “I have an uncle named Robert, but his closest friends and family call him Archie. A nickname left over from his childhood, I believe.”

“Ah, okay.” Harry released a sigh of relief. That could work. Harry could be a nickname used by his nearest and dearest while the rest of the world could get used to Gabriel Bowman.

“Since you’re not wearing your glasses anymore, can we assume you no longer need them?” Hermione asked with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, apparently those blood glamours also gave me bad vision,” Harry said in an affronted tone. Seeing the whole world clearly without glasses was pretty amazing, and they’d taken that from him, too.

When they left Gryffindor Tower to go for lunch an hour later, Harry got lots of looks. No one recognized him, obviously, but seeing as he was a brand-new face sticking closely to Ron and Hermione everyone assumed he was the new and improved Harry. Most people seemed satisfied with his new face and offered him smiles and a few thumbs up.

Malfoy pretended to double over with laughter when he saw Harry in the Entrance Hall, but he was the only one of his group of friends to do so. The rest seemed to find nothing wrong with Harry’s new look. Zabini even tilted his head thoughtfully as he looked Harry up and down, causing Hermione to glare at him right before pulling Harry away from them.

“Looking good, Harry,” Neville said with a sincere smile once they were seated at the Gryffindor table.

“Who is this handsome stranger sitting in our midst?” Fred all but crowed as he appeared behind Harry.

“Be still my heart,” George said, pretending to swoon. “Such a princely face, I hardly know what to do with myself.”

“Oh, shove off,” Ron grumbled but Harry chuckled because even thought the twins were putting up a bit of a show, they still obviously accepted him and that’s all that mattered.

For the rest of the day Harry kept staring at himself in every reflective surface he encountered. He spent a full fifteen minutes examining his new face in the bathroom mirror that evening, much to Ron’s hilarity.

The next day, Harry could hardly concentrate on his classes. He was going to meet his family that evening. His real family. And while Harry was full of nervous excitement, there was also a small voice whispering in the back of his mind that they were muggles and might not accept a wizard into their family.

Maybe they’d even blame Harry for the deaths of his parents, who were murdered in cold blood by a bunch of wizards after all.

But the moment his grandmother opened the door of their home in Bristol, Harry knew he worried for nothing.

“Oh my boy,” his grandmother mumbled as she wrapped him in a tight hug that reminded him of Mrs Weasley somehow. “We have missed you so much.” More people Harry didn’t yet know joined their hug and Harry had never been welcomed anywhere like that before.

“I will come pick you up at eleven,” Dumbledore said with a warm smile, but Harry hardly heard him because he was completely overwhelmed by the loving reception he was getting.

Harry was introduced to everyone there and he heard so many names it made his head swim. His father, Kenneth had two younger brothers and a younger sister, and his mother, Jessica, had three sisters and a brother. Most were married and had children of their own. Harry’s oldest cousin had just turned eighteen, and the youngest cousin was a month from being born.

There were also two dogs in the house which Harry mistook for a couple of stray grizzly bears at first. They were huge, with rust-coloured thick coats. Harry’s grandfather explained that they were Newfoundland dogs. They were named Pip and Puck and they seemed just as eager to welcome Harry into the family as everyone else was.

Much to Harry’s surprise, his uncle Stanley was a muggleborn wizard.

“Your dad, that’s my older brother, was so stoked when he found out you were a wizard as well, Gabe. You did your first bit of magic right before your first birthday. Summoned a biscuit right out of the jar,” Uncle Stan said with a warm smile while he offered Harry a glass of cola. “Ken was always fascinated by magic, loved the idea of it.”

A deep breath escaped Harry before he could stop it. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Uncle Stan gave him a knowing look. “You don’t have to worry about our family not accepting you, lad. The only thing you actually have to worry about are Paulie’s gutters.” Uncle Stan nodded in the direction of his youngest brother, who immediately grinned in return.

“Why would I pay some bloke fifty quid to come clean my gutters when you can wave your wand and do it in two minutes?” Uncle Paul said while he laughed in Uncle Stan’s face, who merely signed in exasperation.

Harry looked between them, his entire torso filling with a new kind of warmth he’d never felt before. This was what family was supposed to be like, he was sure of it. And for the first time in his life, he was part of that now.

Yes, he had Sirius and the Weasleys had always been kind to him, but in the end they weren’t Harry’s family. They weren’t the people Harry was actually related to and who he resembled. Harry could see himself in Uncle Paul’s ears and his grandfather’s smile and Aunt Sylvia’s hands. And these people wanted the very best for him, just because he was part of them.

“Do you like Quidditch?” Uncle Stan asked with an expectant look.

Harry nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I play Seeker for Gryffindor.”

“Nice. I played Chaser for Hufflepuff for three years and got recruited for the Falmouth Falcons right out of Hogwarts. Played Chaser for them for six years straight,” Uncle Stan said while waving his wife closer. “I’m currently the general manager for the Falmouth Falcons. Your Aunt Felicia here is their Seeker, though she’s now obviously on maternity leave.” Uncle Stan placed a loving hand on Aunt Felicia’s very pregnant belly.

“When you come home for Christmas we’ll take you to a few matches if you like,” Aunt Felicia said while giving Harry a quick wink.

For some reason this made Harry choke up and he quickly sipped his cola to pull himself together. Not only did he have a huge family, he even had magical relatives who he could interact with in the wizarding world.

It was more than Harry had ever expected to get and all these people had been there waiting for him all along. And James and Lily Potter had kept that from him. Yes, Death Eaters had murdered his mum and dad, but Harry now counted the Potters as just as big of an enemy of his as Voldemort and his followers had ever been.

As it turned out, his aunt Felicia’s maiden name was Smith and she came from a long line of proud Hufflepuffs. She even had a cousin attending Hogwarts in Harry’s year, a boy named Zacharias Smith.

When the night drew to a close, Uncle Stan put an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “If you hadn’t been kidnapped, me and Felicia would have taken you in. We were young then, barely out of Hogwarts, but we would have made it work.” Swallowing, Uncle Stan briefly glanced down. “We always assumed you’d been taken by Death Eaters. There were all sorts of rumours going around that they took children to use in the most awful of rituals.”

Harry couldn’t hold back a shudder that ran down his entire body.

“You’ll come stay with us for Christmas,” Harry’s paternal grandmother insisted. “We’ve got this big house and plenty of space.” Harry got the impression that his family on both sides were comfortably upper middleclass, since his grandparents’ house was easily twice the size of the Dursleys’ house, plus it had a very large, mature garden surrounding it on all sides.

“I’d love to,” Harry said while accepting more hugs from every single member of his family. “I’ll write to you.”

“Please do,” his grandfather said with watery smile. “You have no idea how much we’ve worried about you over the years, Gabriel, and how good it is to have you back.”

All in all, it had been a night full of tears and laughter and so much joy that it made Harry’s heart ache and head spin.

Ron was still awake when Harry snuck inside their dormitory. “How was it?”

“Good. Great.” Harry sat down on his bed and toed off his shoes while giving Ron a huge grin. “My uncle is the general manager for the Falmouth Falcons and my aunt is their Seeker.”

Ron sat up straight in bed at once. “Tell me everything.”

And Harry did, his chest burning with a new kind of pride and satisfaction that he now had a family of his own he could happily tell stories about.

Hermione all but interrogated him the next day during History of Magic, wanting to know every little detail about Harry’s meeting with his family. And Harry was all too happy to share it with her.

“I also found out my real birthday,” Harry told her. “It’s April 17th, 1980.”

“So you’re a bit older than you thought you were,” Hermione said with a pleased smile. Then she frowned as though suddenly remembering something. “Did you check the Marauder’s Map since the glamours were removed?”

Harry had, since the Map had always showed him as ‘Harry Potter’ and they’d all wondered how that was possible. “Yeah, it says Gabriel Bowman now, as expected.”

“They must have used the real Harry Potter’s blood for those glamours,” Hermione mused while fiddling with her quill. “Of course James Potter would know how to fool the Map.”

Harry quickly changed to subject back to his new family. He did not want to waste any time thinking about the Potters anymore, since doing so usually filled him with endless amounts of burning rage. He’d taken great delight in burning the photo album full of pictures of the Potters in the Gryffindor common room fireplace late at night a week ago.

Harry did send his grandparents and Uncle Stan and Aunt Felicia letters, and he even got some in return. And during the next Hogsmeade weekend he purchased a whole bucket of Chocolate Frogs, plus a bunch of postcards and sent some to each of his cousins, just because he could.

Life settled into something comfortable and peaceful for Harry. Yes, the initial discovery of his true identity had shocked him to his core, but so far the consequences hadn’t been too bad.

Unfortunately the more unwelcome aspects of the recent revelations presented themselves on the day of the first task.

A Phoenix Patronus came flying into the Transfigurations classroom, asking Harry to come to Dumbledore’s office at once. Harry packed his bag with trembling hands while Hermione whispered furious reassurances at him. Ron managed a brave smile, though his face had lost most colour.

Would James and Lily Potter actually dare to show their faces after what they’d done? Or would they send their son off all alone to face the fallout of their horrible choices. No matter what, the real Harry Potter had to compete in the tournament or he’d lose his magic. And he was only fourteen years old.

Harry glimpsed a teenage boy wearing his old face stepping onto the winding staircase, followed by a older woman with grey hair held together in a tight bun. He hurried after them and entered Dumbledore’s office just as the woman made introductions.

“This is my client Harry Potter, here to take part in the Triwizard Tournament lest he loses his magic,” the woman said in a frosty tone, glaring in Dumbledore’s direction. “My name is Whitney Lockney and I am Mr Potter’s solicitor, here to make sure everyone remembers Mr Potter is a minor and isn’t to be questioned on anything not to do with the tournament.”

Dumbledore sat behind his desk and gave Ms Lockney a most unimpressed look. “And yet you cannot blame us for wanting to discover the truth of what has happened, especially because James and Lily’s actions have caused so much damage to an innocent’s child’s life.”

“Alleged actions,” Ms Lockney said with a tight little smile.

Behind Dumbledore stood Snape, half-hidden in the shadows, sneering for all he was worth. “Ah yes, because Mr Bowman at eighteen months old apparated himself into Harry Potter’s bedroom at the exact time of the Dark Lord’s attack just for the fun of it.”

Harry didn’t like Snape, not one bit, but at that moment he certainly appreciated the man’s ability to take sarcasm to a whole new level. As the adults exchanged polite jabs, Harry stared at the boy wearing his old face.

The real Harry Potter looked like a spitting image of what Harry used to look like. Whatever magic the Potters had used, it had done an excellent job. Potter kept his head bowed and his mouth clamped shut while he stared at the floor without meeting anyone’s eyes.

“How does it feel,” Harry whispered, unable to stop himself. “Knowing your parents were willing to sacrifice an innocent child to save your life. Knowing that your parents really aren’t any better than the Death Eaters they fled from.”

Potter glanced at Harry with wide eyes that were a very familiar shade of green. “I didn’t know,” he whispered back, still keeping his head down.

“What?”

“I didn’t know,” Potter said, a little louder now, finally raising his head so he could look Harry in the face.

“Harry,” Ms Lockney said in a warning tone, making Harry flinch involuntarily, but Potter barely reacted.

“He deserves to know,” Potter said with real venom in his voice while he glared at his solicitor. Then he looked at Harry again with pleading eyes. “I swear, they never told me a thing. Only that they had to leave England in a hurry because they were targeted by a Dark Lord. That’s it.” Potter looked ready to cry, his lips trembling and his eyes shimmering.

Harry believed him, if only because it made sense that James and Lily wouldn’t confess their horrible crimes to their own child. In some ways, Harry realized, the real Harry Potter was as much a victim in this as Harry was. “They still did it.”

“Because they were scared!” Potter yelled, ignoring his solicitor’s attempts at shutting him up. “They discovered their friend Pettigrew was a traitor and the Dark Lord was planning an attack. They interrogated Pettigrew with Veritaserum and found out there were more spies in the Order but not their names. They didn’t know who they could trust anymore, so they did what they had to do to keep us all safe. Me and my sister. My mum was pregnant at the time.”

Something snapped in Harry, something that released a huge burst of hot rage. “They left their best friend to rot in Azkaban for over a decade. Sirius was your godfather and he would have died for you lot, and they left him to rot with the dementors for crimes he didn’t commit!”

“They couldn’t trust anyone,” Potter insisted with a tremor in his voice, the picture of misery. “After the prophecy was made about me vanquishing the Dark Lord, they had to do everything they could to save me because the Dark Lord wouldn’t stop hunting me until I was dead.”

“HARRY!” Ms Lockney snarled, grabbing hold of Potter’s arm and yanking him away from Harry.

“I do believe we have heard enough,” Dumbledore said as he quickly rose from his chair. “I’ll escort you to the arena where the first task will shortly take place.

Harry stood rooted to the spot as he stared after Potter. A prophecy? There had been a prophecy about Harry Potter vanquishing Voldemort?

“Blimey,” Ron said as they walked across the grounds towards the arena. Harry told his friends of what he’d learned in urgent whispers while they were surrounded by so many other students. “That certainly explains why they did it.”

“Ron!” Hermione jabbed Ron with her elbow.

“I’m not saying what they did was right, obviously,” Ron said, rubbing a hand across his ribs. “I hope someone tosses them in Azkaban and throws away the key, I really do. But it does at least explain their actions.”

“I for one cannot believe anyone would put so much stock in a prophecy of all things.” Hermione turned her nose up as though suddenly smelling something very foul.

“Dumbledore didn’t deny it,” Harry said as he remembered Dumbledore’s rather shocked expression when Potter had spilled the beans. “I think he didn’t want anyone to hear about it at all.”

“Well, Potter might actually get eaten by a dragon in the coming hour,” Ron said as they found seats near the edge of the arena. “So this whole prophecy might be a moot point then anyway.”

Harry Potter did not get eaten by a dragon. He entered the arena not looking at the crowd and immediately hid behind a rock while a huge Hungarian Horntail glared in his general direction. Then he stuck his wand out from behind the rock and cast a few weak spells in the dragon’s direction. Harry had no clue what those spells were even supposed to do, and he doubted anyone else did either. The people around them started booing Potter when he went back to hiding behind the rock.

“Oh.” Hermione looked between Ron and Harry with wide eyes. “He’s not going to actively compete.”

“What?” Harry gaped at her.

“Think about it,” Hermione said in a rushed voice. “Why would he actually risk his life to win this tournament? All he has to do to satisfy the magical contract he’s bound to is to show up at the task and compete, but nowhere does it say that he has to do more than what he’s doing right now.”

Harry hated to admit it, but that was actually quite clever of Potter. He had nothing to prove to anyone. He didn’t even attend any of the competing schools so no one else would have certain expectations of him to try and win either.

After five minutes of hiding and lacklustre spell casting, Potter snuck out of the arena again, head bowed. Ms Lockney was there to lead him away at once. Harry doubted they’d see them again until the second task.

Potter got the lowest score to no one’s surprise.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Ron said with a sigh.

Harry agreed with that sentiment, even though he also couldn’t really blame Potter for this strategy. He shuddered to think what would have happened if the Goblet of Fire hadn’t revealed the truth and Harry had needed to face an actual dragon.

The Daily Prophet ran a few articles about the reappearance of the real Harry Potter but they had no real facts to report, just lots of opinions from all sorts of random people who had nothing to do with the situation.

Life went on and Harry pushed the burning rage back down and focused on all the positive things in his life. Sirius sent him a letter in which he wrote how happy he was for Harry that he’d met his real family. Harry wrote him back and made sure to include a detailed description of all he’d learned in Dumbledore’s office. If someone deserved to know the truth, it was Sirius.

There was some general upheaval amongst the students when the Yule Ball was announced and everyone realized they needed to arrange a date for themselves.

“I’m not going,” Harry said without an ounce of regret when Parvati asked him to be her date. “Sorry, but I’m going to spend time with my family over the holidays.”

Parvati gave him a nod. “I understand.”

“Otherwise I’d have loved to go with you,” Harry said quickly, not wanting to hurt her feelings. He liked Parvati well enough and figured she would be a pleasant date for an evening. “Ron still needs a date though.”

Parvati stared in Ron’s direction with a dubious look on her face. “Yeah…all right. Let me get back to you on that.”

Hermione told him Viktor Krum had asked her as his date and then made him swear to not tell anyone, which Harry solemnly did. In the end Ron did go with Parvati, but Harry got the impression it was only because Parvati hadn’t been able to find anyone else. But none of that was Harry’s business, because he boarded a very empty Hogwarts Express to spend the Christmas holidays with his family.

Uncle Stan waited for him at King’s Cross and apparated them to his grandparents’ house where Harry was once again welcomed with open arms. His grandparents, with the help of Uncle Stan, had decorated a bedroom for him with Gryffindor colours and lots of Quidditch posters. As Harry lay in bed he couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life he had a generous bedroom that was actually his.

Over the next two weeks Harry had the time of his life. His entire family got together for a delicious Christmas lunch and on Boxing Day Harry got to sit with his cousins and unwrap present after present. Harry himself had purchased Honeydukes’ gift baskets for everyone, which seemed to go over really well with his family.

Aunt Felicia had given birth to another baby girl, the third for her and Uncle Stan. But that hardly stopped her from attending a Falmouth Falcons Quidditch match with Harry. Uncle Stan also took Harry to an official match from the national team of England for which he always got free tickets.

The rest of the time Harry spent with his grandparents, listening to stories about his mum and dad. Harry’s grandfather told him story after story about his dad’s childhood while they walked Pip and Puck the Newfoundland dogs together every afternoon through a nearby park. Harry also spent quite a few hours paging through old photo albums, committing every image he saw of his parents to memory. His dad had very kind eyes and there wasn’t a picture of his mum in which she wasn’t smiling with her whole face.

When it was time to go back to Hogwarts, Harry felt regret at having to go back to school for the first time in his life.

“We’ll see you at Easter,” his grandmother insisted while handing him a lunchbox full of sandwiches and a few treats for on the train. Harry got a little emotional then, but was able to hide it. No one had ever made him a lunch like that before.

Apparently Ron and Hermione had experienced a bit of a fallout after the Yule Ball but by the time Harry returned to school they’d made up again. Harry simply rolled his eyes at the drama of it all and told them about his own adventures. Ron looked right chuffed when Harry told him he could come to a Quidditch game with Harry and his Uncle during the Easter holidays.

Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts in February, Ms Lockney once again there to keep curious bystanders and overzealous Aurors away from him. Potter used a bubblehead charm and finished last, pulling a teenage girl who looked a lot like him out of the water. Before anyone could approach them they had disappeared again.

Harry shook his head and tried to accept that James and Lily Potter might never actually pay for the crimes they had committed. Since Potter was a minor, the Ministry couldn’t haul him in to question him about crimes he himself hadn’t committed. Ms Lockney made sure every ministry official she spotted knew as much. So no one had any idea where the Potters were actually living and thus no arrests could be made.

“I’m sorry, dear boy,” Dumbledore said when he’d summoned Harry to his office to check up on him. “James and Lily are playing a very clever game that we cannot appear to win unless we force a child to turn against his parents.”

“I understand, Sir,” Harry said with a knowing nod. Dumbledore very carefully never mentioned the prophecy Potter had spoken about, and Harry very carefully never asked about it, either. Some secrets were best left alone, Harry understood that much. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do now was to somehow draw Voldemort’s attention again after it had become clear that he’d never been the right target in the first place.

A few strange things happened as time went on. Bartemius Crouch disappeared after talking nonsense in the Forbidden Forest, and Professor Moody became increasingly more harsh in his teaching the closer to the end of the year they got. Students speculated this was because he was getting more and more paranoid about not surviving the schoolyear like so many other professors before him.

The Easter holiday was just as delightful as Christmas had been. Ron flooed to the Falmouth Falcons stadium from the Burrow where he met Harry and Uncle Stan and together they enjoyed an excellent Quidditch match. Aunt Felicia was back on a broom and won the match by catching the Snitch after almost two hours.

Potter showed up again with Ms Lockney for the third task, which involved a huge maze made of hedges. Harry wondered who came up with these challenges that didn’t allow the audience to see a bloody thing. The second task had been just as boring as a spectator.

Krum was in the lead and was allowed to enter first, followed by Diggory, Delacour and finally a resigned Potter, who once again kept his head down and ignored the soft booing that came from the stands. No one at Hogwarts appreciated his lack of sportsmanship, apparently.

For at least an hour the crowd stared at a bunch of hedges. A few times red sparks went up from somewhere in the maze, but that was as exciting as it got. Eventually Krum, Diggory and Delacour all ended up back outside the entrance, having been rescued from the maze by various professors. But Potter was still missing.

And he wasn’t the only one who was missing.

“Has anyone seen Alastor?” Dumbledore asked as he walked past the stands where Harry and his friends were sitting, wondering what on earth was going on. “I want him to go check if the cup has been activated. Perhaps something went wrong with the Portkey.”

For the next hour Ms Lockney made a right stink about Hogwarts having lost her client, ranting at anyone who would listen, but especially at Dumbledore and Fudge. Then out of the blue a huge crystal cup appeared and with it the lifeless body of Harry Potter.

“Harry!” Ms Lockney fell to her knees beside the body while the crowds erupted in anxious whispers. “Harry! Wake up, sweetheart. Please, wake up.”

“Lily,” Dumbledore said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Amelia Bones appeared on Lily Potter’s other side just as Lily’s Polyjuice wore off and her grey hair transformed into dark red and her face regained some youth. “I’m sorry to do this now, Lily, but you are under arrest.”

Lily Potter cried and kicked out when two burly Aurors grabbed her shoulders, but then she sagged in their arms, clearly overcome with grief.

Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand so hard he felt his bones creak, but he hardly cared. He sat frozen with shock as he stared at the dead body wearing his old face. Ron kept muttering words impossible to understand, his freckles standing out in his pale face even in the darkness around them.

“Everyone, please return to the castle,” McGonagall called out to the crowd. “Students, please return to your common rooms for your own safety, until we can figure out what has happened exactly.”

Harry and his friends joined the shuffling crowd on their way back inside, unsure what else to do.

“What were they keeping in that maze that might have killed him?” Ron asked once they sat squeezed together on the couch.

“I have no idea. But Hagrid was bragging the other day he’d supplied some creatures for it,” Harry said in a quiet voice as he stared into the flames in the fireplace, hardly feeling their warmth.

Beside him, Ron shuddered. “Do you reckon he might have put some of Aragog’s brood in there?”

“Possibly.”

“Dumbledore mentioned a portkey, though,” Hermione said, face scrunched up in concentration, desperate to solve this brand new mystery. “What if he wasn’t killed in the maze at all but somewhere else?”

Harry kept quiet as he listened to Ron and Hermione discuss the possible reasons for Harry Potter’s demise. A part of him felt sorry for Potter. That boy hadn’t wanted any of this to happen any more than Harry had ever done. He’d been used and duped by James and Lily, just as Harry had been.

James and Lily had done utterly vile things to keep their son safe from a prophecy looming over his head. But in the end, even trying to sacrifice an innocent child hadn’t been enough to save their son’s life, at least in the long run.

But no matter the reason, none of this had anything to do with Harry anymore. He was just a muggleborn student with a large, loving family.

He wasn’t the prophecy child and never had been in the first place. No matter what had killed Harry Potter, Harry sincerely doubted it would ever affect him in the years to come.

The end.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

Hit me up on Tumblr: maeglinyedi

Series this work belongs to: