Lies of the Light
Harry couldn’t focus.
His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions, swirling in chaos, pulling him in different directions. Every time he tried to make sense of one revelation, another memory or detail would claw its way to the surface. His discovery about Regulus and James, the letters that uncovered the truth, the knowledge that Dumbledore had manipulated him—none of it sat right with him. And now, there was something even more insidious gnawing at him.
How much did the people around him know?
The thought had been festering in his mind ever since the confrontation with Walburga’s portrait. It seemed impossible that Dumbledore could have hidden everything by himself. He must have had help, people willing to go along with his schemes, either knowingly or out of misplaced loyalty. And as much as Harry hated to admit it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that some of those people had been the Weasleys—and Hermione.
He sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, his hands gripping the table so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, staring but unseeing. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors.
It was almost time. He had sent an owl to the Burrow that morning, asking for the Weasleys, along with Hermione, to come to Grimmauld Place. He hadn’t said why, but they wouldn’t need an explanation. They would come because they trusted him, or perhaps because they felt obligated to. Either way, Harry was determined to get answers today.
The knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He straightened, swallowing the tightness in his throat as he stood up and made his way to the door. With a flick of his wand, he unlocked it, and in walked Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, with Molly and Arthur trailing behind.
“Harry, mate,” Ron greeted with a broad smile, though it faltered slightly when he noticed the tension in Harry’s posture. “What’s this all about? You okay?”
Harry didn’t answer immediately. He stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter the sitting room. The warm greetings that usually accompanied their reunions felt stilted, overshadowed by the thick air of unspoken conflict that clung to Harry like a shadow.
They all sat down, Hermione next to Ron, her brow furrowed in concern. Ginny sat on the opposite side, her eyes searching Harry’s face for some clue as to what this was about. Molly and Arthur, seated at the far end of the room, exchanged worried glances.
Once they were all settled, Harry finally spoke, his voice low and strained.
“I found something out. Something important,” he began, his gaze fixed on Hermione and Ron, but sweeping across the room to include everyone. “And I need to know the truth. From all of you.”
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, and Ron’s confusion deepened. “What are you talking about, Harry?” Hermione asked gently. “What did you find out?”
“I’ve been doing some digging,” Harry continued, ignoring her question for now. “And I found out something about my parents—my real parents.” He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. “James wasn’t just my father. Regulus Black was too. They were together, and Lily wasn’t my mother.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find the right words. Ginny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, while Ron looked utterly dumbstruck. Molly’s hands flew to her chest in horror, and Arthur’s brow furrowed as he exchanged another look with his wife.
“That’s… that’s not possible,” Hermione stammered. “Harry, you must be mistaken. Dumbledore told us—”
“Dumbledore lied!” Harry’s voice rang out, sharper than he intended. He slammed his hand down on the table, making everyone jump. “He lied to me. He lied to all of us. About everything. And now I need to know how much you knew. What did you know?”
Hermione paled, her eyes wide with guilt. She shook her head furiously. “Harry, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know anything about this. We—”
“But you knew something,” Harry interrupted, his voice low and accusing. “You always knew more than I did, Hermione. Dumbledore trusted you more than he trusted me. You were always the one who understood things better. So tell me the truth. What did he tell you about me?”
Hermione’s hands trembled in her lap. She glanced at Ron, who looked just as guilty. “He… he didn’t tell me much,” Hermione said quietly. “He always said it was for the greater good. That we couldn’t tell you everything because it would put you in danger, Harry.”
Harry’s heart clenched painfully. The greater good. Those words felt like poison now. “So you went along with it? You went along with lying to me, keeping things from me, because he told you it was for my own good?”
“I thought it was what was best for you!” Hermione’s voice was trembling now, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I thought Dumbledore knew what he was doing. He always knew what was best.”
“But he didn’t!” Harry shouted, standing up abruptly and pacing across the room. His anger boiled just beneath the surface, and he felt like he was on the verge of exploding. “He kept me in the dark my entire life! He kept me from knowing the truth about my family, about Regulus. And you—” he pointed at Hermione and Ron, “—you just went along with it!”
Ron flinched but tried to defend himself. “Mate, we didn’t know anything about this! We didn’t know about Regulus or your parents. Dumbledore never told us.”
“But you still went along with his plans!” Harry shot back. “You never questioned him, never asked why he kept so much from me. You just followed orders, like good little soldiers.”
The bitterness in his voice made everyone wince. The air in the room felt heavy with tension, and for a moment, no one dared to speak. Harry felt the weight of their silence pressing down on him, suffocating him.
Finally, Molly spoke up, her voice trembling. “Harry, we never meant to hurt you. We only wanted to protect you. We trusted Dumbledore, just like everyone else.”
“Trusted him to do what?” Harry’s voice was dangerously low now. “To control my life? To manipulate me into being his perfect weapon? Because that’s what I was. A weapon. That’s all he ever saw me as.”
Molly’s eyes filled with tears. “No, Harry, you were never just a weapon to us. You were family.”
“Family?” Harry laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it. “What kind of family keeps secrets like this? What kind of family goes along with something like this without ever questioning it?”
Ginny, who had been silent throughout the confrontation, finally spoke. “Harry, we didn’t know,” she said softly. “We thought we were doing what was right. You have to believe us.”
Harry turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Right by who? Dumbledore or me?”
Ginny’s eyes welled up with tears, and she looked away, unable to answer.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Harry stood there, breathing heavily, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to make them understand how deeply they had hurt him. But all he could do was stand there, staring at the people who had once been his closest friends, now feeling like strangers.
“I don’t know how to trust any of you anymore,” Harry finally said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I don’t know if I can.”
Hermione’s sob broke the silence, and she buried her face in her hands. Ron reached out to comfort her, but he looked just as devastated.
“Harry,” Arthur finally spoke, his voice gentle but firm. “I don’t know what Dumbledore did or didn’t tell us, but I do know this. You are not alone in this. We may have made mistakes, but we’re still here. We still care about you.”
Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out the waves of emotion crashing over him. He wanted to believe them, wanted to trust them, but the betrayal felt too deep, too raw. He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive them for going along with Dumbledore’s lies.
“You should go,” Harry whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Harry—” Hermione started, but he shook his head.
“Just go. I need time to think.”
One by one, they stood and quietly left the house, their heads bowed, their hearts heavy with guilt. As the door closed behind them, Harry collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands.
Everything felt broken. His trust, his friendships, his understanding of his own life—all shattered beyond recognition. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and for the first time in a long while, Harry felt completely, utterly alone.