Harry Potter : In the shadow of divinity5.95%

Chapter - 5 : Revelations and Illusions

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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"Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. You're explaining it very well. And what of the things that so often get you in trouble with your relatives, the 'freakish' occurrences you're frequently punished for?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You know about that?"

"The entire neighborhood knows about it," the man said, face dark, "your relatives have so kindly seen to that. I am the only one who knows it for what it truly is."

"Magic," Harry repeated incredulously.

"Indeed. You didn't truly believe that being able to make things disappear when you no longer wished to see them or quite literally freeze when you so wished it to was normal."

"Well, I knew it wasn't normal, but I didn't ever consider the fact that it was magic," Harry said. "If that was true I would have turned my relatives into frogs a long time ago."

A small smile quirked his guardian angel's lips. "You didn't believe it to be magic because your aunt and uncle have spent nearly your entire life drilling it into your head that such a thing doesn't exist."

"But why?"

"Because they're afraid of it? Perhaps even a bit jealous. Those who are so extraordinarily ordinary most often are."

Harry frowned, seriously contemplating what this strange man was telling him. Films and television shows involving anything of the supernatural variety had been banned from the Dursleys household a long time ago (much to Dudley's chagrin), but Vernon and Petunia couldn't control what Harry read whilst at school and so he had a fairly good idea of what magic was supposed to look like. He had to admit that some of the things he'd done by accident when scared or angry fit well with the powers he'd seen some of the heroes in comic books utilizing.

"I'd like a bit of proof, if it's not too much trouble," he told the older man. "A demonstration, maybe."

Much to Harry's relief, his angel didn't seem upset by his demand, only amused. "What would you like to see?" he asked.

"What can you do?"

"A bit of everything, I'd like to think. Though illusions are my specialty."

Between one blink and another, Harry found himself surrounded by exact replicas of himself. Seven copies of himself stood in a loose circle around him and his companion.

"They're insubstantial," the man explained as Harry reached out to touch one only for his hand to pass through it as if it weren't even there. "Tricks of the light."

"What else can you do?" Harry asked, slightly awestruck.

"My disguises. As I told you earlier they are a result of magic, more specifically shapeshifting." There was a barely distinguishable shimmer of bright green before an entirely different man stood before him. He was just tall and put together as the older man, but his hair was inky black and pulled back into a neat tail at the back of his head. Everything about him reeked of old money, from the expensive looking coat arranged over his immaculate, black suit, to the confident tilt of his chin to the straight line of his back.

Harry took an involuntary step back, drinking in the man's appearance with silent confusion. "Is this what you really look like?"

"Yes," the man nodded, "this is my true face."

"You look…you look like me." And he did, the bright green of his eyes, the inky sheen of his hair, even the faint angles to his face were all entirely too much like Harry's. They weren't identical, but the similarities were there and they were unmistakable.

"We do share a striking resemblance, don't we?"

"We do," Harry agreed. "How did you say you knew my parents again? You said you were familiar with my mother. How familiar?"

The man shifted in a way that could be considered uneasily. "We were old friends."

"You're lying," Harry refuted almost immediately.

"Am I? How can you be so sure?"

The boy shrugged evasively. "I've always been good at spotting lies. How did you know my mother?"

Harry's companion laughed quietly, he shook his head in silent wonderment. "I've said it once but I'll say it again, you are astoundingly astute for one so young. I suppose I only have myself to blame for that, though.

"I met your mother purely by chance. I'm not sure if you can tell, but I'm not from around here, I was only visiting the…area because I was in search of something, someone. For a short period of time, I was quite taken with her; she managed to persuade me to remain for a while longer without ever really having to ask."

"I don't understand," Harry frowned.

"We were together. Intimate. Though it was never anything romantic, it was all purely physical."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not trying to say anything," the man said. "I did not come here with the intention of revealing myself to you."

"But you have. You are. What are you trying to say?"

The man gave him a look, it wasn't angry, but it wasn't particularly happy either. If anything, it was contemplative. He was assessing him, silently sizing him up to see if he deserved any kind of answer. Something in the firm set of Harry's jaw and the hard light in his eye must have convinced him as a small, somewhat challenging, smile stretched across his face. "What I'm trying to say is that you've been lied to nearly your entire life, not on purpose perhaps, I don't believe your relatives knew anything other than what they'd been told, but that does not change the fact that you've been left blind to your true heritage.

"James Potter wasn't your father. I am."

Harry didn't even hesitate before saying. "I don't believe you."

A surprised chuckle burst from the man's mouth, it was obvious that, of all the responses he'd been expecting, that was not among them. "Is that so? Do you require some sort of proof?"

Harry nodded sharply. "That would be a good place to start."