Title: The Notable Dissimilarity

Beta: CleopatraIsMyName

Rating: K+/PG

Challenge/Prompt: Written for Round 11 of the Quidditch League Competition/prompts were 2, Dialogue: "What do you mean not your fault?"; 4, "I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out." ― Ally Carter; 6, Change.

Warning(s): There is no slash, but Lysander is gay.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is in no way connected to the author of Harry Potter, JK Rowling. Harry Potter is owned by her, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Lysander had always known he was different, it just took time to realise just how different. Or, an exploration from realisation, to acceptance.

"Mummy," a young blond boy whinged, bottom lip unconsciously stuck out. "May you please buy me that new chess set? The one we just passed at Flourish and Blotts?"

The boy's mother looked down at her son with a warm, dazed sort of smile affixed upon her lips. She shook her head lightly, strands of her golden hair catching in the glow of the sun.

"No, Ly. Remember, your brother is waiting for us at Quality Quidditch with James, and you," she tapped the tip of his nose affectionately, "wanted to go with me to the department store. We need to meet up with them soon. Grandmother Molly will surely be cross if we don't, not to mention the Wrackspurts that may fly into her ears from the frustration."

Lysander nodded his head in compliance, though his back was at a slump. He had really wanted that new chess set. The one he had, though he loved it, was a bit old, and somewhat ancient, having been his mother's throughout her Hogwarts years.

Later on, when the mother and child had arrived at Quality Quidditch Supplies, she leaned over Lysander and said with a wink, "For being such a good little boy, how about I buy you that set for your upcoming birthday? How does that sound?"

Lysander's face lit up with the force of his bright smile, and wound his arms around his mother's neck, bouncing happily on the balls of his feet. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really want that new chess set!"

When Lysander and his mother separated, a greeting caught their attention. Lysander jogged a few steps towards his twin brother, Lorcan, and his friend James Potter. James' eyes were focussed on a new set of Quidditch uniforms and gear on the wall, above a small display case filled with neatly spaced, polished items in two rows.

Lorcan, after hugging his twin and giving a short greeting to his mother – for some reason, he never hugged their mother in public, though Lysander always took advantage of a tactile moment at any location of any day – walked straight towards a new line of brooms. James, as if a magnet finding its way back to the place to which it belonged, was by Lorcan's side in a second, pointing out and reciting the latest additions to the models in an excited tone.

Lysander sighed fondly, with a hint of exasperation, and shrugged. For some reason, most other boys his age were all about the brooms and competitive teams by the age of five, at the latest, but Lysander couldn't find much appeal in it. Of course, he liked Quidditch as much as the next boy, but he much preferred quiet days within the confines of their living room, near a warm fireplace, or stretched out on the floor in the library.

'Well,' Lysander thought to himself. 'Maybe I'm just… different?'

"Oi, Finnigan!" one of the boys, Boot, hollered at the top of his lungs. The boy in question spun around on his CloudDrive 2000, grip on his broom strong and tight. "Quit being such a fairy, and learn how to duck those flippin' Bludgers!"

"I am!" Finnigan yelled back, face tight with anger. "And I don't need a pillowbiter to tell me that I'm doing anything different, ya know. Not quite as easy as it looks."

Lysander's own face grew tight, but for another reason entirely. Unnerved at the casual sling of such negative terms, he concentrated harder on his book, but by the time Lorcan's Minor Quidditch League practice was over, he'd been on the same paragraph for nearly an entire hour.

"Ly," Lorcan called out, hand on his brother's tense shoulder. Lysander jumped at the sudden touch, and closed his novel swiftly, shoving the tome within his book bag. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," the boy assured. "I'm completely fine. Just couldn't concentrate on what I was reading."

"Don't let their words bother you," Lorcan started, before shaking his head. "Just don't."

Lysander never asked what he had meant.

Dear Mother,

As you probably already know, mainly through correspondence with Professor Longbottom, or even Professor Potter, the Sorting went well, today. As I foretold for myself, I was Sorted into Ravenclaw, your old Hogwarts house. Lorcan went on to Slytherin, which was unexpected, up until I took the time to put some thought into it. He is remarkably cautious and observant; don't know why I never thought of it before.

Well, anyway, I hope you and Father have a wonderful rest of the year. Hopefully, I will not lose my head in the chaos, and will write often.

Love,

Lysander Scamander

"Did you see Spinnett, today?" Lysander heard Bones ask Robertson.

"Yeah, I did. Did you see what she was wearing?"

"Oi, Scamander, what was Professor Slughorn's essay for?" a voice to his right called out.

"A compare and contrast of the properties of three different types of herbs that are used in Veritaserum, and how they differ in use from other truth serums."

"Thanks, mate."

"Scamander, did you notice Spinnett, today?" Bomes inquired.

When Lysander shook his head no, Bones chuckled to himself. "Oh, right. Who am I speaking to?"

"What does that mean?" Lysander calmly inquired, head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Well, you're one of those."

"What?"

"Never mind, it's just… it's not your fault, mate."

"What do you mean it's not your fault?"

"It's nothing," Robertson spoke up. "If you don't know, then you don't."

"Lorcan," Lysander hesitantly called out to his brother one night during the Winter Hols. After a few seconds of silence, Lysander nearly pretended that he hadn't done it, and closed his eyes. Seconds later, Lorcan answered with a drowsy grunt, the warm fire of the fireplace and the distinct crackle of the wood having had obvious effects on him.

"I think I may be gay."

"I won't love you any less, Lysander."

"Thank you."

A snore was his answer back.

Later that night, Lysander found that he couldn't go to sleep. Gathering up one of the warmest blankets and wrapping them around himself, the young Ravenclaw strolled towards the library. However, he got side-tracked when he noticed a door ajar. Light spilled out from the cracks, and he opened it further, to the sight of his mother sitting cross-legged on one of the long-backed chairs, glasses sitting upon her nose.

Grinning, Lysander stepped into the sitting room and closed the door behind him, taking a seat across from his mother.

Bookmarking her place, Luna placed the book she was reading on her lap – A Journey through the Everlasting Forests – and said, "You know, my nickname at school was Looney."

Confusion marred Lysander's brow, "What?"

"I have a certain sight that allows me to see those creatures I'm always speaking about. Just like those Drumbledingers we found nesting on an ant hill a while back, when you and Lo had been little boys."

Thinking back on it, Lysander could recall the memory vaguely. It was when he was about seven, and they had been playing in a special sandbox that his Uncle had conjured up for his and Lorcan's use. On the edge had been a farm of sugar ants, bringing in tons of little crumbs of various shapes and colours, and Lorcan had spent ages coming up with fantastical things that they could've been.

The next day, Lysander had found a blue, glass-like plate covering the ant hill's top, though the ants were still going in and out with those foods. His mother had taken one look and celebrated the sighting of a very special group of creatures. A small clan of tiny little animals settled upon that nest and had proven his mother right.

'It seems that memory was more vivid than I thought,' Lysander acknowledged to himself.

"The boys and girls of Hogwarts didn't take kindly to the ability I had inherited from my father, but I never cared."

Before Lysander could put a word in, his mother then concluded with, "I will love you no matter what, Ly. You and your brother both. Even if you decided that Wrizzlesplats and Trumbledungers are your soul mates."

Screwing his nose up at the suggestion, Lysander carefully got up from his seat on the couch and wrapped his arms around his mother's shoulders. They seemed more fragile than they did last time, and he realised just how fast time was going by.

"I love you, mum."

"And I, you, Lysander."

Author's Note:

I'm really hoping I didn't totally screw up on this. XD