No... No no no...
"No, you‘re lying. You. Are. Lying."
"I so wish that I was."
"But I‘m the... I‘m Harry Potter!" He shook his head. "I‘m Harry Potter!"
"No. You are not."
"I have the scar!"
"I gave you that scar." Dumbledore had his eyes closed. But even so a tear squeezed out from the side, running down his long nose and dropping to the floor. "I can remove it right now if you wish it."
"No!" His hands jumped up to his forehead protectively. "You‘re just... you‘re saying these things... WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"
"I am sorry. I am so sorry." Dumbledore bowed his head. "I cannot say that to you enough. I... I destroyed you."
"No! I... I cut out my eye!" Harry could feel his blood pumping in his ears. "I‘ve fought! I‘ve fought him all year! I‘m the chosen one!"
"You are not. There is no chosen one." Dumbledore sounded like a man burning his last shred of hope. "The prophecy died nine years ago. Voldemort won."
"No. No..." He was shaking, he couldn’t stop. "Lies it‘s just lies!"
"It is not." Dumbledore shook his head. "If you want proof just look to your friends. You named them the marauders. On your very first day. How did you know that name? You know that James Potter named his group of friends the same?"
"No, he can’t have! It‘s a lie!"
"It is not. You knew the name because I put in in your mind. If you doubt me ask anyone who was at school with them." Dumbledore was speaking in dead tones now, he had reached the bottom. "I have heard you refer to Professor Snape as Snivellus and to Remus Lupin as Moony. Those were both names James Potter invented. You also knew about Professor Snape‘s dark mark. How else would you know?"
"I... I..." The boy could feel himself shaking, his mind shaking apart.
"It is true. It is all true... I am so sorry. I am so... I cannot begin to think what this must be doing to you. What this has done to you."
"So... who am I?" The boy looked up. "What‘s my name?"
"I do not know."
"You found me!" He could hear his shrill voice in his ears. "You dragged me to this life you have to know!"
"I do not Harry I‘m..."
"Harry? Harry?" The boy threw his head back and screamed, a screeching cacophony of anguish. "And don‘t you dare say you‘re sorry! Don‘t you dare!"
"I... I cannot-"
"Get out!" He grabbed his glass of water and threw it with all his strength, tears blurring his eyes. It shattered against the Headmaster‘s shoulder. "Get out! Get out! GET OUT!"
Dumbledore fled the room, holding his arm. As the old wizard crashed through the doors the boy threw himself back against the wall and howled in pain and confusion, tearing at his hair with hands like claws. Tears ran freely down his face from the one real eye he had left.
Sobbing and broken he lay there, until darkness closed in.
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