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Harry wasn't sure what he felt at the moment. Numb was a good place to start, but also was anger. He sat on the edge of his bed back at the Gryffindor tower. His trunk was all packed and the bed was organized with careful care. Emerald eyes stared out of the window with blankness. Yet, underneath there was a storm brewing, much like the clouds in the sky. The young wizard, a mere 14 years old, thought back to what happened not even a week ago. He was kidnapped, along with Cedric, had some of his blood forcefully taken from him to help resurrect the famous, and current, Dark Lord, Voldermort. Unfortunately, through the attempt to get out alive, the older competitor, Cedric, died in the hands of the dark wizards.
Why did Cedric have to die?
Harry repeated that exact thought for the last handful of days, since that day. In return, his mind whispered:
The first time that he realized that, the adolescent paralyzed in realization. If things couldn't get worse, the Prophet started to print out that his claim of Voldermort being alive was a lie and that he sought out attention. Why would I do that? How would this benefit me? The teenager seethed in his mind. His teeth gritted to the point that they squeaked at the force. Don't they care that somebody died?! A magical lamp that rested on his nightstand rose all a sudden and slammed into the wall, which resulted in it breaking.
Harry held his breath, almost flitching at what happened. As a moment went by, he inhaled noticeably and grabbed his wand. With a verbal repairing spell, the lamp was good as new. The black headed adolescent knew what just happened and knew why and how it happened. He tapped his wand against his palm in a steady, but fast, pace as he stared pointly at the now fixed object. Bloody hell, I have to learn to control my magic. He thought with annoyance. He had managed to control his magic mostly, but he never had the time nor chance to learn how to control it properly. As a result, there were small outbursts here and there.
Waving his wand with a non-verbal spell, the lamp lifted itself and was placed on the nightstand.
Out of nowhere, a pop appeared.
This time, Harry did jump.
The cause of the pop was none other than Dobby. The wizard's muscles relaxed, but still had the tightness that refused to let go. That didn't change his friendliness that seeped into his voice.
"Hey Dobby-" He paused when he noticed a look of nervousness, almost invisible signs. "What's the matter?"
"Dumbledore wants to see Harry Potter."
Harry almost sighed, but stopped himself. The headmaster had avoided him for a good while, since the day that he was 'rescued' after the Third Task. Yet, he couldn't deny the man when he wished to speak with him.
"Alright, I'll go. Thank you. Have a good summer Dobby!"
The free house-elf smiled almost a blinding smile. With an excited thank you and wishing the same in return, he disappeared in a pop. Harry allowed a real, small but fond smile appear on his lips. Even though the two had a rough start, they could rely on each other when need be. With a fond shaken of a head, the young wizard left.
Dumbledore sat at his table with his head in his hands. He couldn't believe the things that he had found out. If only he had known, he wouldn't have made some of the choices that he had. Now, he feared that his overlooking has led to many lives being destroyed when he could have done things differently. A few of those lives had been destroyed from the start, all because of him.
There was a knock. The headmaster knew exactly who it was and answered as he straightened a bit:
The door opened and in walked Harry. His emerald eyes looked straight into an older, blue pair with a questionable look.
"Good afternoon headmaster. Dobby told me that you needed to see me?"
"Harry, my boy, please- sit."
The old man waved his hand towards the chair in front of his desk with tiredness. An eyebrow raised at the change of behaviour, as he was used to the cheerfulness that came from his headmaster. Without a word, Harry sat down, waiting for an answer on why he was there. Neither of the two talked for a long time, which was even stranger for the younger of the duo. This was the first time that the headmaster hadn't asked him if he wanted tea or lemon drops, which he always did. He went to break the silence first, but was beaten to it.
"Harry, what do you know about prophecies?"
Harry stared with surprise. Where did this question come from? His eyebrows knitted as he asked:
"I wasn't aware that I was taking my Divination exam."
Dumbledore smiled a little and chuckled weakly at the answer. A little familiar shine reappeared in the old blue eyes. He replied with amusements, but tried to sound serious:
"You caught me." Harry shared a smile, as he saw through the joke. "But what do you know?"
"Well…" The black headed male huffed mentally at the thought, particularly at a certain professor. "They're visions that are set in stone. And… they're rare?"
He wasn't sure about the second part, but gave it out as a suggestion in the end anyways. Dumbledore nodded a little as he leaned back against his chair. He mused sadly:
"Yes, you are correct. They are somewhat set in stone. And, I'm afraid, they're also rare- very rare."
"Sir?" Harry asked with a quiet voice. Why do I have a bad feeling about this? He wondered fearfully. He didn't want any more surprises. He wasn't sure how he would handle it if it was a surprise, or a particularly an unpleasant one. "Is something wrong?"
The reply that he received wasn't what he expected.
"I'm sorry, my boy."
Emerald eyes widened in shock.
"W-What? Sorry- wait- what-?"
"It's my fault for the life you are leading now. Your parents, your friend- your godfather!"
"You're not making any sense!"
Harry slammed his hands against the armchair handles and feet against the floor as he got up. His eyes darkening at having to remember at what he lost. His heart tightened at having to remember his mistake that led to his godfather now staying in hiding. He later would regret how he talked to the pained old man, but the forceful thoughts didn't allow him to do so now. Dumbledore didn't looked surprise. Instead, he expected that sort of tone. He explained:
"Years ago, before you were just born, a prophecy came to light. It spoke of Voldermort's downfall and the one who would defeat him. I heard it, one night 15 years ago, when I went to hire a teacher. I realized during that time that it spoke of you."
Harry stared in shock at the old wizard. His mouth hung open a bit and his body stood frozen, almost like a statue. In dead silence, he sat back down on his chair, his eyes never once left the man across from him. His mind ran a mile per second to try and figure out what was just said to him and how he should react. With his mind busy connecting the dots, he asked with an unknown tone:
"The prophecy said that the child was born to a couple that escaped Voldermort three times. That he will be born as the seventh month dies. Voldermort would mark this child as his equal and that he will know the power that the Dark Lord knows not."
With a shaky hand, Harry touched his lightning bolt scar. It was the same scar that made him one of the most famous people in modern history and had changed his life forever. The bumpy hills that replaced the smooth surface that should be there almost mocked him. His fingers curled in as they forced a fist and rested on his lap. Was it normal for him to feel sick to his stomach? He gulped with a tight throat and asked as best as he could:
"How is it your fault?"
"I was careless. I should have picked a more private place to do an interview for a job that's purpose is to see what the future is. I didn't realize until it was too late that someone overheard it. I should have also thought carefully about you and the prophecy, in particular."
The way that Dumbledore spoke of him, almost as if he wanted to suggest something that was unknown to him, caught Harry's attention. The adolescent asked in confusion:
"Sir, what do you mean about me? What about the prophecy?"
"The prophecy, I just found out, was fake."
Fake, the prophecy is fake. Harry wasn't sure what he felt when he heard that. He wanted to thank whoever was up there for giving him a break. But, at the same time, he wanted to obliterate something for what the prophecy has cost him. He still tried to reason with the headmaster though, no matter what he thought about it.
"Fake? But my parents have-"
"That's what I thought, all of us believed."
Harry asked unintelligently, all the tense feeling replaced with pure confusion. Dumbeldore looked at him with understanding. He explained:
"I went to talk with your godfather about your situation right now. I revealed to him in private the prophecy. He pointed out something that we all have overlooked all this time. Harry, Sirius and I believe that Lily and James might have adopted you."
Unlike with the prophecy, the respond was quick:
"Yes. I haven't seen your parents before they introduced you for almost a year. I had sent them into missions one after the other, so we haven't crossed paths aside from letters. One day, when they returned, they showed you to everyone as their son. Unlike me, your godfather has seen them a bit more. He had commented that your mother, Lily, never looked pregnant. Yet, he, himself, didn't know much so he just took his best friend's word for it."
"But- wait a second! What other proof do you have?"
Dumbledore sighed softly and looked at the male with sympathy. He turned his chair around and stood up, walking over to his fireplace that contained a big fire. He turned his back to it to look at the teenager that was like a grandson to him. He admitted:
"I'm not too sure if I believe it myself, but we can check." He tilted his head towards a see through cup that had a lid on it. Harry looked at it with startle, as he hadn't noticed it before. He made a face at the smell, as he wondered how he could have missed it. "That potion is called Legatum and its purpose is to show a family tree. All it needs is a bit of blood, just a few drops, and it'll show you on parchment your family tree."
Harry stared at the green, calm potion. His reflection bounced off of the clear glass. He focused his vision on both, wondering about the possibility. Lily and James Potter were his parents, or at least for his first year in this world. They had raised him as if he was their own, if the stories were true. Everybody told him he looked like his father but had his mother's eyes. Was it possible, if it was true, to share features with someone through magic means? If it was true, what of his real family? Were they alive? Why did they abandoned him or gave him away? A familiar feeling bubbled up within his core, fear. But deep inside, he just had to know now that it came to light.
"I'll do it"
He finally announced. Dumbledore didn't say anything but gave a smile of encouragement and proudness that of a grandfather. He went back to his desk and grabbed a blank parchment from a stack that set on the right side of his desk. He placed it in front of Harry. Next he pulled out a small pocket knife. Harry looked at the latter object in surprise and asked:
"Sir, where did you get a pocket knife."
"Ah, this?" The old man hummed happily, almost as if he remembered something. "It was a very interesting day. I went to Japan to visit a friend, whose a squib, and he took me touring in the muggle world. I found this and bought it. Truth be told, it's easier to carry and use than chanting a cutting spell. It's especially true when I don't want to use a lot of magic for a simple task. Quite handy!"
Harry smiled in amusements. It was rare when a wizard that grew up in a wizarding environment would act so carefree or curious about a muggle device, no matter how small it was. Aside from a few at Hogwarts and Arthur Weasley, there weren't many situations that led to this sort of conversation.
"I'm happy that you find it useful sir." He looked confused at the three objects. "Um… what should I do sir?"
"Ah yes- almost forgot to explain. I'm afraid that my old age is starting to catch up to me. Now, this is what you do. Cut your hand, preferably a finger, and let a few drops of blood fall into the potion. Yes, yes, like that. See how it's turning purple? That means that you put enough. Now, you need to drink it, wait- here take this to stop the bleeding for now so don't use your hand. Now you wait a minute for the potion to collect any other data in your body that you might not have provided. Then let another few drops of blood fall onto the parchment and watch."
Harry did as he was told and accepted the dark blue napkin. While he waited a minute he asked:
"Sir, what would happen if I am adopted?"
"If it is true, then I'm afraid that I can't let you go back to your aunt and uncle. I had placed a blood ward there for your protection against Voldermort and his followers. For it to work you needed to live with your closest relatives. We will see about the living arrangements later."
Harry looked surprised, but felt something else. If they protected me from the outside, why didn't they protect me from those animals as well? He thought angrily. He wanted to point it out so badly, but if he was adopted then there was nothing to say. Those wards have failed from the start and it wasn't the headmaster's fault as he hadn't known either. Finally, the minute was up and Harry went to do the last step. He forced the thoughts of the news about the wards back into his mind, as it no longer mattered. If he wasn't adopted, then he would have to accept his life with his so called family and continue to live with them for a few more years. He knew that in the Wizarding World the adult age was 17, and by that time he would be long gone if he had anything to say about it.
The few drops of blood started to spread across the page to form a family tree. The tree itself went several generations until the parchment wasn't long enough for the rest to show up, so it ended with the 15th large branch. Harry didn't pay any attention to the large family tree, as the only thing that he cared about was who his parents were.
He begun but his voice caught in his throat at what he saw. Right in front of him were two unfamiliar names, where his parents should be. Both had a line connected to his individual gold box. In that gold box was his current name, Harry Potter, and a birth one, Tamotsu Kudo. Next to his name was a second line that stretched to the side, landing on a box with a different name. That name had a line of its own that connected to the two unfamiliar names. Harry learned enough about a family tree back in elementary school to know what this meant. He had a sibling named Shinichi Kudo and his parents were Yukiko Kudo nee Fujimine and Yusaku Kudo. If he had to guess by the white lines that were attached to the four of them, and compare them to the black lines of everyone else's, they were alive.
"This… I can't believe it."
Harry voiced with a trembling voice. Up until he was 11, his aunt and uncle told him that his parents were drunk drivers that died in a car accident. Then the magical world told him that they were brilliant and amazing witch and wizard that fought bravely in the last Wizarding War. Now, he had different parents that he had no idea about along with a sibling. With his mind cooped up, he allowed the headmaster to turn the parchment around so that he could look at the names. A rare serious look covered the older man's face. He voiced in several mumbles:
"I see… this is a surprise… it does explain a lot… and you're related to them."
"Sir, you know them?"
Harry asked tiredly.
"My boy, the Fujimine was an honourable and powerful family for a millennium. Their powers knew no bound and they were feared by many. From the stories that I've heard, almost every family member had a different specialty. These specialties were either gifted in birth or mastered with rare ease. Unfortunately, the family died out with only two legacy left, or three from the looks of it."
Harry tensed at the thought that he had no family left aside from his parents and sibling.
He finally voiced out. Dumbledore looked at the teenager and interrogated him:
"What would you like to do with this information?"
Harry eyes widened a bit in surprise that he had a say in this. All his life he was told what to do. Even in Hogwarts he was told what to do by his professors, peers, enemies and friends. It was especially rare when he had a say in something. This begged the question. What did he want to do? He had no idea about who these people were. For all he knew, they could have forgotten him already. Yet, what if they didn't? What if they were still looking for him, after all these years?
Harry thought back to the one true family that he knew of, the Weasley's. They were the family that he always wanted and never had. They cared for each other and were always there when one of them was under the weather or hurt. Some, like Ron and Percy, may dislike one another, but they still had each other's backs when it counted. Aside from them, there was Sirius. The man may be his godfather, but he had been in Azkaban for so many years that his mental state was a concern in of itself. He was in no position to look after a child, no matter the age, when he could barely look after himself as he was in hiding.
Harry's shoulders heaved down with sadness. What did he want? He wanted a family to call his own. He wanted to go back during the summer time to a real home. He wanted someone to write to aside from his friends. To write to people that he knew cared for him in a much deeper level than a friendship could afford. He wanted to feel the love of a parent. He starved for that sort of attention, as he was neglected for most of his life. Watching how real parents treated their children, he wondered what it felt like.
"Am I selfish for wanting to find my birth family and get to know them?"
Harry asked almost fearfully. Dumbledore looked at him in surprise.
"Selfish-? Harry, what sort of a question is that? Of course it's not selfish. What makes you believe that?"
"I-It's nothing, s-sir. S-So what do I do now?"
The old man looked at him with suspicion, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he voiced an idea:
"The family is located in Japan, last time I checked. You can use this upcoming summer to search for them. When September comes, you can return if you wish. You don't have to fulfill the prophecy anymore."
"I would like that." Harry admitted then paused in remembrance. "Sir, I don't care if the prophecy is fake or not. I will come back in September. Voldermort is back and I'm not going to abandon anyone. If he wants me dead so badly, then he can try. I will not go down so easily."
Dumbledore looked at the young man in front of him with admiration. It had been a long time since he had seen a person, much less a teenager, so determined to do good. He smiled sadly at the thought. It appears that once he would leave, the world would be put in good hands. He felt like a whole weight has been pushed off of his shoulders. His sadness and guilt over his decisions has lightened a bit, but it still would take a long time before he forgave himself.
"Then I believe it's time for you to head to Japan."