Harry was in shock; by all accounts he should be screaming bloody murder. All that he had believed about his family had been shot down. He had clung to the belief that he had, at least as an infant, a happy normal childhood. Now he knew he was wrong, that all Hagrid and the others told him were lies. The only comfort that he could get was that least Hagrid, Dumbledore and most of the others had not known they were being deceived. But Sirius did, and he had lied to him. Harry was not completely sure about Remus, but his mother said he appeared to suspect there was something wrong going on. Still the both of them had placed James Potter on a pedestal, and had wanted him to worship the man; the man that had hurt his mother so much.

Sirius had even lied to him knowingly, and now he could understand why the animagus rarely spoke or wrote about his mother. Why? Why had he maintained a lie? Did he even see Harry instead of James Potter? Sirius was the one that told him more often how like his father he was, was always suggesting he played pranks and followed in James footsteps. But if there was one thing Harry was not, it was a bully; and he now knew both his beloved and ‘perfect’ father and Godfather were.

How could Padfoot face him like nothing was wrong when he had goaded James into beating his wife? How? Harry had loved his Godfather, trusted him, and cherished the memories he had of him. But Sirius had lied to him, had acted like he had never done anything wrong to his mother. He was gone now; there was nothing Harry could do. But the grief he had felt about his death had, at the moment, turned into anger and confusion. He felt betrayed and the poor teen no longer knew what to do or how to feel.

Harry wanted to shout and scream at the dead man for an explanation. He needed to know if he had changed at all; needed to know if all those years in Azkaban had made Sirius reflect on the way he had acted when he was younger. Yet, if the way he behaved around Snape was any indication, Sirius had not changed at all. Would he have been violent with him –Harry- when he discovered he was not a miniature James Potter as he seemed to believe while he was alive? Unfortunately that question was going to remain unanswered, and was probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

The teen’s anger slowly calmed down; and Harry suspected the potion’s effects were kicking in. He wanted to remain angry, wanted to rage at the injustices of his life; at finding that he had lived a lie almost since he was conceived, but could not. Anger solved nothing in this situation; and his mother, the one that had kept the truth of his true parentage, was long dead. James Potter and Sirius, the ones that had hurt his mother were also dead, and Harry could not ask them for an explanation now. He might talk to Professor Lupin, although he rather not, at least not without some of the calming potion or he might hex the werewolf into next week for keeping his suspicions about his parents relationship quiet, and making James a ‘perfect’ Gryffindor, when he clearly was not.

Harry just sighed, pushing his gloomy thoughts aside, and looked at his aunt and cousin. They had been waiting expectantly for him to finish the letter and decide what he would do. Absently he caressed his new wand, then looked at the neckband, and took a deep breath. This was not the time to dwell on his family’s or his Godfather’s past. It was time to make a decision and act upon it; two people besides himself depended on him. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath before he spoke.

“Do you have what you need packed?” Harry asked them, twirling the wand idly in his hand. He kept his voice as calm as he could. No need to let them know about his inner turmoil, he did not trust them with his feelings now, and probably not ever. They had the tendency of walking all over them or using them against him.

“Yes, but… some things are too big to carry in just one trip.” Petunia replied, looking at Dudley. He wanted to take his computer at the very least. It was December’s model, but still top of the line. The huge boy might not be good at most things but he was great with computers.

“I don’t think we’ll have the chance to come back to get them,” Harry said thoughtfully, suspecting that despite acting a bit different Dudley still had a hard time parting with some of considerable amount of stuff he owned.

“Can’t you use that magic of yours so we can take them?” Dudley whined, only a hint of his previous behaviour reflected on his voice and attitude. But it was enough to set Harry off, if only for a moment.

“Dudley,” he began slowly in a cold voice. “By all means I should just leave you both to deal with uncle Vernon on your own. If this was happening only to me, you probably wouldn’t do anything to help.” They at least had the decency to look ashamed. “You never did care for me, both of you. But… in good conscience I don’t think I can be as callous as you were. I’ll help you, and not just because Mum asked me to. Just remember, I’m doing this because I WANT to, and I believe it’s the right thing to do. But I’m not obliged to help you in ANY way. I won’t take any of you treating me the way you used to. I won’t be ordered around like your slave anymore, understood?”

“Yes Harry,” both said nodding and eyeing him wearily. Petunia had to bite a scathing retort like she would have a few months ago, accepting that they were at her nephew’s mercy and he did have the right to refuse to help them.

“Now, you can’t take most of your stuff Dudley. Muggle electronics don’t work well with magic, although Mum did include a few charms in her list that should make some things work. So choose carefully what things you really want to take.” He scanned the list again; there were some charms to power electronics, they worked like batteries or plugging the thing into an outlet. It made the muggle equipment work on magic. There was also another that would make those muggle things operate in heavily magical places, like Hogwarts.

‘Mr. Weasley would love to learn these charms. Perhaps I’ll have time to teach them to him later this summer.’ Harry thought as he reviewed the explanations. The parchment was somehow charmed to contain a lot of information, much more than should fit a normal sheet of it. His mother was really good at putting procedures down on paper in a very easy and comprehensive way. He could probably get them right in one or two tries, and they were really useful and not just charms. There were also transfigurations, jinxes, curses and hexes, apart from some defence and anti-spying stuff.

“I really only want my computer related stuff. You know, the computers, accessories and software, also…” The fat boy explained nervously, worried that his ‘cousin’ might refuse. “If you are interested in learning to use them… I’ll… I’ll teach you. Taking the books and manuals would be good then, even though they are rather cumbersome.”

‘He’s offering me the chance to use his ‘beloved’ computers? Is this really Dudley?’ Harry thought as he gaped at his cousin. ‘I have to admit I have always been curious about learning more about the things. I liked them when the Mister Hughes gave us the basics lessons back in primary school. Shame Aunt Petunia did not allow me to take the extra course in the afternoons. Well, here is the chance to learn more. Although I rather not let them know I’m all that interested in case Dudley is just back to himself.’

“All right, there is a charm that might make them work with magic instead of electricity, bring them down… the books too. I’ll reduce them along with the other things we are taking,” Harry told him after considering for a bit more, he paused for a moment and then addressed his aunt. “Did my Mum tell you about my Prof… father, my real father?”

“Yes, she did. Lily explained that she had used… something to change the way you look. Are you going to take off that…that illusion before we leave?” Petunia inquired as she put on the wristband. She could not help a small gasp as it adjusted to fit her perfectly. It felt good and she was reminded of Lily. It felt as if her sister was alive and beside her. She then urged Dudley to wear his; he too was a bit taken aback at feeling of it adjusting to his larger wrist.

“The correct name for what she did is glamorie, and since I don’t think I really have a choice, yes I’m going to remove it.” He paused for a moment thinking how to explain the reason why he had to do it, not sure if his Mum had explained it to her adoptive sister. “Believe it or not, I happen to be famous in the Wizarding world. The reasons for it are a bit complicated, but they have a lot to do with my parents… well my Mum’s and James’ deaths, so I’m not going to explain it. Because of this thing, I can’t go anywhere as almost everybody recognizes it.” Harry pointed at his scar, and then added in a soft voice. “It’s not like I ever wanted to be... famous.”

Harry grabbed the neckband and was pleasantly surprised to notice that it was warm to the touch. The moment it came in contact with the skin of his throat he felt a loving presence surround him, it was like a warm loving hug. The boy could not help but close his eyes and bask in the love that his mother had for him. It was almost overwhelming for a moment, and were it not for the potion still in his system, he would have cried. After a few seconds the feelings coming from the neckband changed and they comforted him. His Mum loved him very much, and had done the best that she could to insure that he knew it. How she managed to make the neckband do that was beyond him, but he was grateful. Harry finally had something that came from her.

“Go and get your things while I take the glamorie off,” Harry finally told them. “Be prepared to see someone completely different. My… my father’s looks are a far cry from James Potter’s, who I’m almost a carbon copy off right now.”

“All right,” Dudley said standing up and helping his mother to stand. “I… I didn’t have the chance to take your things up to your room Harry, before… before he… well, they’re by the stairs.”

“That’s fine…” Harry paused thoughtful for an instant, and then said. “Both of you should start calling me Duncan. That’s the other name Mum gave me, Duncan Harold Evans to be precise. I think it’s better if you don’t call me Harry so soon after I disappeared. Someone might just put two and two together. It would not be safe for us and my… father if people learned that I’m Harry Potter and I look like my Potions Professor,” he told them as he took the money bag, the brooch, and the robes out of the chest.

The robes expanded immediately. One was maroon, another was light blue, and the last one was the exact colour of his eyes. It was also of a much better quality, silk with a nice embroidered pattern of snakes on the cuffs, neck and hem. The pattern was in black, the snakes’ eyes in emerald green. He returned the potion box, the jewellery box and the box for his wand to the chest, closed it and reduced it. Pocketing it in his huge jeans; he did not want to leave anything that might clue people –namely the Order of the Phoenix- as to how they managed to leave the house under their supposedly vigilant noses. Harry did not know if in her letters for the others his mother explained about the wand and the other things, but if she did not then he preferred to tell them -especially the Headmaster- himself. That way he might have the upper hand and place some conditions that would benefit him.

Harry hesitated a bit before he gathered all his Gryffindor courage to remove the glamorie. By doing that he was saying goodbye to Harold James Potter, a boy that never really existed as such. He would become someone else, and live his life as that someone even if in the inside he remained the same boy he had been. Perhaps with this new identity he would have the chance to act his age for a while, he could be just a normal boy, well as normal as you can be with Snape as your parent. Of course with the Prophesy hanging on his head, it was probably just wishful thinking. But at least he would not be recognized everywhere, and people would not expect him to save the world even if he had to do it in the end.

After the fifth repetition of the spell, Harry felt a slight tingling all over his body, then suffocating heath, followed by a freezing sensation before the tingling returned and finally stopped. The young teen was not sure what to expect, but somehow in the back of his mind he had the hope that he might do without his glasses. Snape, after all, did not wear glasses, at least not in public, and his Mum had not worn any in the photos he had seen of her. Opening his eyes, the teen took off his eyeglasses and realized that he had no such luck; he was still as nearsighted as he had been before he removed the spell. He put the glasses on but his sight did not return to what it was. Sighing he decided he needed to have his eyesight examined to correct his graduation. The last eye exam he got was at his primary school more than six years ago, so it was probably long overdue anyway. The only good thing about it was that he finally had the chance to select a pair of glasses to his liking, and not the hideous things he had to wear before.

Harry began examining the changes, and took a look at his hands. Whereas his fingers used to be stubby and short, they were now long and graceful. His fingernails still looked bitten (nervous habit that he had not been able to get rid of so far). His hands’ size did not seem to have changed much, they were only slightly longer; neither did his feet, his sneakers still fit they way they did before, perhaps slightly looser on the sides, but then they never did fit him well. Dudley’s feet were two sizes bigger than his. Looking down he realized he was still the same height and weight, if the length of his jeans legs was any indication, and they fit just like they did before.

If he had Snape’s genes shouldn’t he be taller? The man was six feet three inches at the very least, but probably higher. Also by what little he knew about his mother she was probably six feet or slightly over that too. He would have to confirm that with his aunt later. So why was he still so short? Even Hermione was taller than he was, if not by much. He did not worry too much about being skinny, his mum seemed to be, and well his… father looked to be slender if not outright thin.

Harry was not expecting to find that his hair was so long. It reached well below his buttocks. Well, he had rarely cut it, and the last time his aunt did was over eight years ago, so there really was no surprise. In fact, he should have suspected something was wrong with his hair. It never changed its length, he had never had to trim it, and on the few occasions his aunt did, it grew to the same length overnight. His new long hair was a riot, as unruly as his old hair, and at the moment looking worse than a bird’s nest. It was wavy and as black as Snape’s. So he inherited the colour from him, his Mum’s had been a dark shade of red and her hair in the pictures looked wavy and a riot. At the thought of having inherited some of Snape’s features his hands immediately flew to his nose, praying that it was not the veritable beak his professor sported. Well, it did not feel like a beak, but it was longer than his other nose.

It was weird that while the hair remained unruly, he now noticed his hands were more calloused than they used to be. They looked like working hands should, odd that he never wondered why it seemed his hands were always soft. He did enough hard work most of his life, but his hands had never looked it. He also rarely scarred, though he had suffered some lacerations that merited rather big ones. He probably should take a good look at himself without clothes in a full length mirror and check if he had any marks. In fact, he was sure he was going to have some now. Perhaps not the basilisk tooth scar, Fawkes tears probably erased it completely, but there were others he must have acquired in his childhood. It would be interesting to see if he could remember how he got them.

As he checked himself, Harry realized that what had kept his appearance constant was the glamorie. The bloody thing had made him almost a mirror image of James Potter, and the teen came to the conclusion that the charm would have hidden any marks he got that James Potter did not have. Except of course for the scar on his forehead; it was a curse scar from a very powerful wizard and from what he knew no spell or charm could hide something like that. Yet his mother said she found one that did, for moment he wondered why she did not use it and then he realized with a lump in his throat that she had been already dead when he got it. Harry did not want to dwell at the moment in painful things so he decided to have a better look at himself. There was a mirror in the living room; he might as well check his appearance to avoid getting surprises later. He checked that he had everything they were going to take before leaving the kitchen.

The stranger that greeted him from the other side of the mirror surprised the teen. Wide emerald green eyes framed by long lashes stared back under black eyebrows that arched delicately on a face that was paler than his used to be. There was a very thin barely visible white scar that ran from his right temple to his chin, and he remembered falling down a fence on some rubbish and cutting his face badly while trying to escape Dudley and his gang. He had been eight years old at the time. Oddly enough, the scar did not look bad or repulsive, and added a bit of character to his face.

His cheekbones were higher and his features more angular, his lips were a lot like his mother’s and they fit him rather well. He did resemble Snape quite a lot, and yet the mix with his mother’s features softened the harsh angles. The nose, that worried the teen, was perfect for his face. Not too big, but also not a little nub as it had been. It was a nice blend between Snape’s and his mum’s. Harry eyed himself critically and had to admit that he looked good, actually better than good. He smiled at his reflection and two dimples formed, his teeth were still white, and while not completely perfect, they were not remotely as bad as Snape’s. He was not vain, never had been, but the prospect of being as ugly as the ‘greasy git’ had not been a good one. Now he knew that his mum’s beauty had helped him, and he was thankful for that. Seeing himself so different should be making him uncomfortable, and yet it felt so right. That was him. That was the way he should have looked since he was a baby.

The sounds from upstairs brought him out of his observation. He did the charm to hide his scar, checked on the mirror that the charm had indeed worked -it had- and then went to change Hedwig. She had been surprised when he approached her cage, and had not allowed him to get close for a moment. But she was a magical creature, and sensed that the strange human before her was her wizard. She hooted at him puzzled, and gently nibbled his fingers when he petted her to calm her.

Harry explained to the snowy owl what happened to him, what he was going to do to her and why. He promised to give her a better explanation later, knowing that she understood him, had always been a willing listener and usually found ways to make herself understood when she wanted to tell him something. Hedwig had hooted in agreement, though her large yellow eyes regarded him a bit suspicious of his ability to really perform the charms. Harry pretended to be hurt by her lack of faith, and she had once again nibbled his fingers apologetically and hooted to let him know she did trust him.

After the initial colour change the young wizard ended making her eyes green; the yellow eyes on black and copper looked too eerie for his taste. As a snowy owl Hedwig had been beautiful, and the change made her stunning and he told her so. Hedwig preened for him after he let her out of her cage. The boy then took her to the mirror so she could see herself better. The ex-snowy owl had examined herself critically perched on his shoulder. She had preened again, fluffed her feathers, extended her wings, and turned her head almost 180 degrees to one side and then the other until she hooted very pleased with her new appearance. He had laughed at her antics, and then told her to fly to the Leaky Cauldron and wait for him there. She should not forget how he looked like now. She hooted again a bit indignant -this time- that he did not think she would find her familiar regardless of how he looked. He apologized and only then did she take off, getting out through the kitchen door.

As she came down the stairs, Petunia was shocked at the incredibly handsome boy that awaited her by the door. His features were striking, although his hair was in serious need of a trim, and he was too thin. Harry’s voice -when he spoke- was deeper, softer and she was sure once he grew into it, it would be captivating. Lily had mentioned the boy’s father had the most sensual voice she had ever heard. It seemed his son had inherited it. They brought everything down and Harry shrunk it, until everything fit in her handbag. Dudley fussed a bit about all of his computer equipment, but once his cousin cast petrificus totalis to keep the loose components from moving and some unbreakable charms on them he felt better.

All three donned the robes, and Harry activated the disillusionment charms, first theirs and then his own. It was only after they were all under the charms that he realized they would not be able to see each other. After thinking for a few seconds he came to the conclusion that there was no other choice but to hold hands. He did not relish the idea at all, but if they did not, one of them could get lost.

The unlikely trio was just by the sidewalk when Vernon returned, almost driving his car into the house. He staggered drunkenly out of it, and pulled a shotgun from the passenger seat. Petunia noticed as two of the neighbours that were still outside -as it was still light- ran into their homes. She guessed that at least some of her gossip companions suspected what was happening to her. Seeing her husband with a shot gun had probably warned them that it was time to call the police, because things were about to get nasty.

Vernon thundered to the house, almost ripping the door of its hinges. He bellowed calling for ‘the freak’, shouting threats and curses. When there was no response, he called for Petunia and then Dudley. Insults, obscenities, and name calling were directed at trio, even if they were not present. All three gasped when the shot gun went off, and Vernon shouted that it was what Harry should have gotten long ago. The deranged man was serious about killing someone.

All three were frozen, hearing the destruction Vernon was wrecking in the once pristine house. It was Petunia who reacted first and began dragging both teens towards Magnolia Crescent; the sound of the police sirens was getting louder as they approached number four in Privet Drive. As they walked away, Harry saw what could only have been Tonks, and yes his suspicions had been correct. Standing besides her was Mundungus Fletcher, looking thoroughly chastised. She appeared to be screaming at him, and had an expression on her face that was both horrified and worried; it seemed that she had just apparated to the site. For a moment he felt tempted to reassure her, but his aunt was pulling his arm insistently. It was not safe to remain, once Tonks was there other Order members would be around too.