Disclaimer- I do not own any part of Harry Potter or the songs I use.

I meant to get this to you guys four days ago, but I had only a thousand words and some of it wasn't usable (I cut it out). I worked hard, though, and hope this gets you even more excited! I didn't go over this so there might be mistakes.

Question: Will this be slash?

Answer: No. I'm not pairing Harry with anyone.

It's on your face.

Is it on your mind?

Would you care to build a house of your own?

How much longer, how long can you wait?

It's like you wanted to go and give yourself away.

Heaven Forbid by The Fray

Chapter Eight

"He smells like Harry," stated Remus the moment his friends and Albus were seated in the Headmaster's office.

"Who does?" James asked absentmindedly as he watched the morning's sunlight caressing his wife's head.

"The Master of Death, Sam."

Albus could sense Remus' unease and confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. On the night of the full moon, I really noticed his scent. Now, just like when he was unconscious, his scent is only partially there."

Albus stroked his beard, taking what Remus had said. That was strange. Perhaps he was mistaken? No, Remus had practiced with his sense of smell and his other senses as werewolves did. He would not misidentified Sam's scent as young Harry's, especially on that one night of the month. There was also the fact that Sam shielded a part of his scent. Why would he do that? To hide himself? To protect himself?

If the story that Sam shared of Harry's life is to be believed, maybe . . .

Severus' watchful gaze stayed on the werewolf. "Remus, are you suggesting that Samothry is another dimension's Harry Potter?"

"Moony, I think you need to have your nose checked," Sirius chuckled, grinning as he clapped Remus on the shoulder. "Now you're getting our little Marauder mixed up with dimension travelers. Ah, what old age has done to you."

"Sirius," Remus growled in warning before continuing on. "I'm not saying that Severus. I'm saying . . . I don't know what I'm saying. I don't understand why he smelt of Harry one night and now doesn't. It's tearing me apart."

"Your werewolf nature," Lily breathed, her eyes softening with pity. "Your werewolf side sees him as pack, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but I know logically that he's not Harry. Moony, my werewolf side, doesn't understand it."

James straightened up in his chair. "There's one way to prove it. The map."

Remus sighed. "I already checked. The map says he's Samothry Jete Parr. I just can't convince Moony of it."

"Maybe you should trust your werewolf side, Remus," Albus suggested.

"The map does not cease to show the truth, Albus," Severus murmured, wondering where the Headmaster was going with this.

"I know this, Severus, but I cannot say that I believe that Sam is his true name."

Lily's eyes clouded as she pondered this. "What should we do, Albus?"

"Keep an eye on him, chat with him, and befriend him. Should his identity be revealed to be a lie, we shall be persistent in our questioning. While I doubt the truth in appearance and name, I do not feel Dark magic on him. We need not to do more than that."

Severus' lips thinned. "And should he be exposed as an enemy?"

The twinkle in Albus' eyes was back. "I do not think that will come to pass, Severus. No, I think it will come to be quite the opposite."

Breakfast has never been this awkward.

Ever.

Harry made sure to keep his eyes on Teddy as he fed the hair-changing boy scrambled eggs. Though he had talked at great lengths with them about Voldemort yesterday, he could feel that they were unsure how to talk to him. He wasn't sure if it was because he was the Master of Death (a being with untold power) or if it had something to do with the fact that he said that he knew an alternate, older version of their Harry Potter. They probably desired to ask him questions upon questions about Harry's home life, love life and whatever else they could think of.

Well, Harry supposed that he couldn't blame the silence entirely on them. He was too focused on avoiding this world's Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Yes, he needed to know which of them, if not both of them, had a piece of Voldemort's soul. That was the first thing he had planned on doing to help them against Voldemort, but in the clear light of day, he felt very reluctant and uneasy. He hadn't wanted to do this in the first place. He hadn't asked for this. He had been pulled into it. Not that he wasn't going to help, no. He had come to terms with it yesterday whilst he explained the history of his dimension's Voldemort.

The thing is . . . He left something out yesterday.

Harry hadn't exactly told them that Harry Potter had had to die or the fact that Harry Potter had been a horcrux.

Do you see his problem now?

If he found Harry or Neville to be a horcrux, he would have to tell Dumbledore and the others. Not only that, but he would have to explain how he knew that. How would he be able to explain that he knew what a horcrux felt like? How would he be able to explain how he could sense that Dark magic? He had already explained that Harry had been able to feel the other horcruxes when no one else could, weaving a tale that it was some ability Harry had.

My first mistake.

Yes, it was his first mistake. He hadn't thought about this Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom when he spoke of his world. He had mainly focused on keeping his story straight and sticking to the truth as much as possible.

I'm surprised that I didn't have a panic attack in Dumbledore's office.

That office brought back too many memories, good and bad. Harry had struggled to remain calm the entire time he was up there surrounded by familiar faces. Between those two issues, it had been quite difficult for him to stay on target and not reach for his wand.

The wand. I didn't see—

"Sam, may I ask you how you came to possess the Elder Wand?"

Harry's head snapped to the left, his glamour-covered eyes taking in Dumbledore's relaxed, folded hands. He knew that question would come up eventually (it hadn't yesterday because they had discussed Voldemort most of yesterday) so he had a really half-truth prepared.

"I . . . well, you see . . . When Voldemort attacked Hogwarts," he began, keeping one eye out for the Potters and Neville, "he broke into your tomb and took your wand. After he died, Harry asked me to put the wand back where it belonged. I did what he asked and woke up the next day with it on my nightstand. Freaked me out, really."

Snape, who had seemed to be having a conversation with Remus without words, turned his head to look at Harry. "Albus kept the wand?"

"Yes."

Should have known Snape would get straight to the point.

"Wait," Sirius said, propping his elbow on the table to hold up his head. "You're telling me that Voldemort actually had the all-powerful wand and lost?"

Harry nodded as his arms tightened slightly around Teddy. They hadn't mentioned the Deathly Hallows yesterday in their conversations about Voldemort (other than the stone in the ring). Harry had made sure to avoid that conversation for as long as possible. Just thinking about how the wand had been in Dumbledore's hands unsettled him.

"That is so sad!" Sirius laughed, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Does he ever take the threat of Voldemort seriously?

It seemed to Harry that this Sirius Black considered Voldemort to be a joke, something to be laughed at. He called the Dark Lord Voldie yet when Harry had described the Battle of Hogwarts and all the people Voldemort had helped kill, Sirius had shivered. The man was a walking contradiction! Honestly, it made Harry wonder if the man didn't have a bit of madness in him.

"Yeah . . . sad," he uneasily agreed.

Dumbledore remained silent during this exchange, his eyes unfocused as he gazed at Harry. His eyebrows were furrowed, wheels going round and round in his mind.

That captured Harry's attention. After all, a thinking Dumbledore was a curious Dumbledore and that would lead to disaster.

"I . . . wielded the Elder Wand, correct?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his twinkle absent from his eyes.

"Yes," Harry answered before asking a question. "You mean that you don't currently?"

That's actually surprising.

Dumbledore shook his head, his face solemn. "No. I was aware of the risks and effects of handling such a wand. I am flabbergasted as to why my counterpart thought it would be wise to do so."

Harry felt his lower back stiffen.

This Dumbledore knows? He . . . doesn't use the wand? What? Does that mean . . .

"So you know?" Harry quietly questioned Dumbledore, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Yes, I know."

Harry could see the inquiring look in Dumbledore's blue eyes, but Dumbledore didn't get a chance to speak.

"Know what?"

Harry's gaze followed his parents as they attempted to get ready for breakfast. It was exceptionally difficult for them seeing as they were murmuring to one another about the Master of Death. He could feel his anger steadily growing as they finished their tasks and turned to him. What lie were they going to tell him now? What did they think they were accomplishing? They couldn't hide him away from the world and Voldemort so why were they trying? Why were they bothering with all the lies and deceit when he really needed nothing but the truth?

How do they expect me to trust them if all they do is lie to me?

"Tell me about the Prophecy."

Harry felt Neville's left hand clutch his right arm as his parents stared at him like he had grown two more heads.

"What?" James said faintly, hazily recalling how Lily had predicted this day and had warned him just two days ago.

"You heard me."

Lily licked her lips, fighting the urge to yell at her husband for not taking her seriously. "Harry, dear, why don't we talk about this after breakfast—"

"No, I want to know and I want to know now. I deserve to know the truth!"

"Harry," James started before going on to reluctantly lie. "You don't need to worry—"

"No!" Harry snarled, his green eyes ablaze and his face red from his anger. "I am so sick of being told I don't need to worry about things. Voldemort? Don't need to worry. The Chamber of Secrets? Don't need to worry. Mom, Dad, just tell me the truth for once!"

Growing so very uncomfortable witnessing a family fighting in front of him, Neville started edging away from Harry and slowly getting off the couch. The room he had been sleeping in was to his right so if he quickly got away—

Bang!

Startled, Neville jumped a bit and turned to see that Harry had wretched open the door and had exited with the door closing with a loud bang. He quietly sighed as he took in the terrible sigh that was the Potters. James was staring at the door as if he couldn't believe how Harry had just acted and the words that had come out of his mouth. His mouth closed with a click and his face became etched with determination. Lily was wiping a couple of tears out of the corners of her eyes and turned to her husband.

"I told you this would happen, but did you listen? No, of course not. Why would the great and powerful James Potter listen?"

And with that, Lily marched towards the closed door and opened it to follow her son, leaving James alone with Neville.

This was going to even more uncomfortable real fast if Neville didn't get out of there quick enough.

As if just realizing Neville was there, James struggled to smile. "I'm sorry, Neville."

"It's . . . okay, Mr. Potter. If anything, I should have warned you that Harry was aware of the lies," Neville replied, slipping his hands behind his back.

James shook his head. "No, Lily warned me. I just didn't want to believe her."

"Mr. Potter, if it makes you feel better, I don't think Harry will be angry for too long. He's never managed it."

"You're right," James tiredly laughed. "Neville, I don't think my wife will be able to find Harry very easily. Would you mind—"

"Helping her find him? No."

"Thank you."

Hesitating to leave without knowing something, Neville hovered by the doorway. "Mr. Potter, where are you going?"

"I'm going to get advice."

"Know what?" James asked with faked enthusiasm as he sat down next to Sam, planning on waiting until Sam left to ask Albus what he should do.

Albus' lips twitched. "Ah, nothing to worry about, James. You seem troubled. What is the matter?"

Albus does always seem to know when we need guidance.

James already felt a bit better knowing that Albus intended to help him no matter what his problem was. But . . . His hazel eyes unconsciously flitting towards Sam's shaggy head and his child. He didn't feel comfortable enough to have a stranger (yes, a stranger who was friends with his son in another world, but a stranger still) listening to his problems and having the inside track of the Potter family. Only his friends knew what problems existed and how they were dealt with in his family. They knew how to keep their mouths shut. Did Sam?

"That's my cue to leave, Headmaster," Harry said with a small smile, inwardly slightly irritated that James had interrupted a very revealing conversation.

Albus held up a hand. "No, Sam, you may stay. James?"

"It's Harry," James answered, his eyes twitching as Sam sat back down with the baby in his arms. "I don't know how, but he knows that there's a prophecy."

"I see," Albus acknowledged.

"What do I do now? I don't want to lie to him more and Lily—"

"Tell him everything."

Albus and James turned their heads to stare at Sam.

"Would you care to elaborate, Sam?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "You know that in my world, Harry didn't find out about the Prophecy until the end of his fifth year. Being left in the dark cost lives. If he knew now, it would affect his decisions and actions."

"That's why I don't want to tell him," James argued, his face hardening. "I don't want this over his shoulder. I want him to have a normal life—"

"Doesn't matter."

James gaped at him. Was Sam serious? How could his son's wellbeing not matter?

"I know what you're thinking and I get it. Dumbledore thought the same thing and look how well that turned out," Sam said. "Harry lost Sirius and risked the lives of his friends, something that could have easily been avoided. You see, Harry needs this to affect his decisions and such. He needs to know what's on the line here. The same goes for Neville."

"But—"

"I agree, James. Harry needs to know the truth."

James gazed at Albus with reluctance and stubbornness. "What if we tell him and nothing happens? What if it turns out that Harry never needed to know about the Prophecy?"

"He needs to know," Albus stated, his eyes solemn as he stared at James.

James swallowed. "I guess . . . I guess I better go find Lily first. She'll know the best way to go about this."

Having left the Great Hall a few minutes ago, Harry navigated the hallways to get back to his room and get Teddy settled down for a nap. Teddy always got up early in the morning and after a few hours, he would want a nap. Teddy's nap would give Harry time to check out the Chamber of Secrets (of course, he would have his conjured snakes and a house elf keeping an eye on Teddy). There was something he had just remembered and he wanted to see if he was too late. He hoped he wasn't. It would be an advantage to have a—

Harry bumped into someone as he took a right turn.

"Sorry," the familiar, old man said gruffly as his eyes raked Harry's form to see if there were injuries. Seeing as there was not any, the old man went around Harry and continued as if he hadn't stumbled into someone else.

Was that . . . Aberforth? What is he doing here?

Shaking his head, Harry glanced down to make sure he or Aberforth hadn't dropped anything. A crumbled up, torn piece of parchment was the only thing that caught his eyes.

"Maybe he dropped this," Harry muttered to himself as he reached down and snatched it up.

I know I didn't drop this and Filch is crazy about keeping this castle clean. That means Aberforth must have dropped it.

Harry would take this to him and if Aberforth didn't recognize it, Harry would throw it away. No harm done.

Maybe I should look at it. If he's come all the way from the village . . .

He couldn't help it. Call it his stupidity, call it his Gryffindor nature, or his natural curiosity that usually got him into trouble. He couldn't resist reading the parchment.

Taking one hand to smooth it out against the wall, Harry narrowed his eyes as he read what few words that were written on the parchment.

Third . . . spy . . . bad . . . Dark

A/N— I couldn't resist ending the chapter there! This was published on 10-16-14 with the length of 3,031 words.