Harry Potter was no stranger to surprises. His whole life was that. Of course, one of the more major surprises in his life was being named Master Of Death. He was fearful at first, he'd expected it to be some immortality bullshit, especially that the Deathly Hallows were something that Voldemort desired more than anything.
It wasn't exactly far from immortality, Fate had explained to him. It was more like being reborn over and over again, living many lives, so in a way, he never died, not really. Sure, he'd be dead in the world he resided in, but soon, he'd be reborn in another universe, either alternative or entirely new.
Usually, he was reborn in entirely new universes with new people, or maybe a couple of people similar to his original world, the Wizarding World, but that was usually the majority of it. Of course, Fate and Luck always had a good laugh when he showed up pissed about the fact that they bloody sent him to another world where he was a bloody hero or some rich noble, or anything similar.
And of course, due to Luck's interference, that was usually. Every. World.
Really, someone should file her for abusing her power! Not that the Controlling Spirits had any sort of rules really, it was in their name, they were the rules.
He'd been reborn in countless worlds; one he was the son of a rich Lord, the heir of a Royal, the illegitimate son of a pureblood wizard, a farmer's son, and his all-time favorite, Regulus, and Sirius Black's older brother. They were occasional (which was a lot, when you considered how many worlds Harry had been to) times where he'd been in a more modern society, but he always had special talents in worlds like these; an eidetic memory, a talent for hacking (one of the more excitable worlds) once he'd been reborn as one of the most dangerous criminal's son, and he had to fight to prove his way and worth in society where most had said that he belonged in jail, just like his father.
There were very rare times where Luck decided to give him a break and gave him a normal high school life but eccentric friends, but he had still loved them.
He felt himself stirring from the hands of the treacherous sleep and groggily opened his eyes, shutting his eyes back again after taking in the blinding red of the ceiling.
He slowly opened his lids, almost blinded by the pink spotting of an after-image. What kind of adult would want a child to have that shade of red in their bedroom?!
He blinked back the traces of sleep. Huh, that was weird. He was usually surrounded by adults fussing over him as a newborn baby. He inspected his limbs and actually did a double take, his limbs were equivalent to a child's! Well, that was unusual... and kind of a pain too. As a baby, he wouldn't be expected to know any people, he'd be getting introduced to them as a kid, thus getting used to their names, quirks, etc. But as a child...
He sat up, slipping from the comfy bed with an easy grace. He was easily used to his shorter limbs. He entered what looked like a bathroom (what the hell? What kind of bathroom was that bloody luxurious!? His parents must like spoiling him a lot... Damn) and inspected his reflection on the fancy mirror with a silver frame. Huh, he didn't look too bad... Scratch that, he was bloody attractive. His face was androgynous and slightly feminine. His lips were pink and pouty. His hair was short and messy, he didn't like that too much. He had discovered his very useful ability to control any part of his hair, which thankfully meant that he didn't have to shave. He would bet every guy and girl would want that ability, he smirked.
He closed his eyes and concentrated; he imaged what he'd look like with longer hair... just beyond his ribcage...
He opened his eyes and smirked in satisfaction, he attempted to conjure a hair tie and was only slightly shocked when he succeeded. So this world did have magic... He tied his hair into a tight, high ponytail with the ends reaching beyond his neck. His bangs stayed around his shocking green eyes.
He tapped at his cheeks and frowned. He wasn't used to any fat on his face, the Dursleys had affected him in each and every world that he couldn't but maintain his thin, lithe body at every world.
His body was oddly tense, his counterpart must not work out too much. He'd have to change that, and more importantly, he'd have to find out more about this world. What were his parents like, if he had any? Was this a world where magic was considered freaky and weird or revered and appreciated?
Suddenly it clicked. Pictures! If he was in a time where pictures existed... But if he was, there had to be some pictures around that told him something. With that thought, he re-entered his room and looked around. He blinked in surprise. Upon the wall was a broom hanged by hinges, wood polished to the point where it was sparkling, with a dresser below with a collection of different Snitches, Quaffles, and Bludgers. His heart raced, was there Quidditch in this world? Was this the Wizarding World? Did he end up here again? He was torn; on one hand, maybe some of his friends were here, maybe even his family... His heart raced at the thought, but he willed himself to calm down. He was more than 2000 thousand years old for Merlin's sake! Considerably young compared to over Control Spirits, but he was very, very old by both Wizarding and Muggle standards. He walked with a hesitance in his step so slight, but still there.
He stepped in front of his dresser, and started opening drawers. There were Quidditch clothes and... Aha! Albums. Perfect. He hesitantly opened the velvet-covered book, and swallowed as he laid his eyes on the first picture. Very familiar red hair, a man bearing a resemblance to the album pictures he had... He smiled tightly, blinking back tears. He, or his counterpart he supposed, was around three years old, smiling as he held a gold snitch, and the man picked him up, happily throwing him over his shoulders as the woman smiled at her husband's antics.
So he was back in the Wizarding world. He smiled, he had disliked the Wizarding world because of the problems it caused him, and well, Voldemort, but did he even exist in this world? He certainly hoped not, but if he did, well, that was compensation enough for spending time with his parents. And he only hated universes where Tom was there because of the damage he'd caused, he was strong, but Harry had experience killing Tom multiple times and even sparing him some.
Embarrassingly enough, his heart was beating so loud as he got dressed, he had to seem normal, but he was just so excited to meet his parents. He had met them before, in different worlds, but this was different! They were actually his parents here!
He settled for a redshirt lined with black, and buttons in the middle, with tight black jeans. He willed his hair to straighten, so it was no longer too much like the Potter mess-of-hair. If someone asked, he'd just say he was having a good hair day, no big deal.
With a deep breath, Harry turned the knob of his door and stepped outside. The Hall was big but empty, connecting to multiple doors, rooms lying beyond. It was a nice creamy color, with a red carpet lining the floor. There were a couple of portraits, expected of a Manor. He looked around, before moving, relying on his legs to remember the way to the kitchen. Soon enough, he heard the sound of a sweet, comforting voice's humming, and smiled. He entered the kitchen, almost fearfully, spotting his... mother's back as she prepared breakfast. The smell of eggs and toast filled the kitchen with a homey feeling, and he found himself having to blink back tears. Again.
"Mom?" His voice was barely beyond a whisper, but his mother heard it, and turned around, smiling at him in a way that not even Mrs. Weasley could. "Hey, good morning, HarHar." He cringed at the nickname, causing his mother to laugh. He opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a faint crying sound, but he heard it loud and clear, thanks to his enhanced senses. He turned to his mother, confused. Did he have another sibling?
"Ah, that must be your brother, Rial." Rial? Weird, but it was oddly pretty. "He must have just woken up. Sorry, Harry. I'll be right back." She looked at him apologetically, and almost in an awaiting manner. Harry was confused but realized something. Maybe their Harry would usually offer to help with the baby?
Little did Harry know how wrong he was.
"Uh Mom, how about I do it?" It seemed to be a surprising thing to say, as his mother did an actual double take as if she thought her brain had imagined that. Harry was confused further, even if it wasn't characteristic for their Harry to do such a thing, why would she be so disbelieving that a brother cared for his mother and siblings. "Are you sure, Harry?" She said it slowly as if trying to make him understand what she was saying. Harry nodded as a reply, and she looked at him like he grew another head. Still, she insisted. "Harry, you do know you're going to have to probably change his nappy right?" Harry nodded again, it's not like he hadn't ever dealt with nappies before. Mind you, the kids weren't his, Merlin forbids, but he would do it a lot for his many godsons or goddaughters, or sometimes just a friend's kid.
"Okay, let me just, you know, get the nappies." He nodded, "I'll go check up on Rial while you do." She nodded distractedly and moved slowly outside, her eyes never leaving him. Harry sighed, what in the name of Salazar was that all about? Regardless, he made his way into what he assumed was Rial's room. It was just what you'd expect out of a baby's room. It was dimmed, as the drapes blocked the sunshine. Harry frowned, that couldn't be good for the baby. Sure, exposure to the sun 24/7 wouldn't be good for him either, but he should at least have some exposure to it.
He moved the drapes enough to allow some sun into the room, before reaching into the crib and picking up his minimally struggling baby brother, who looked at him in curiosity now. He tugged on one of Harry's bangs, causing Harry to giggle softly. He could see the resemblance already, his brother had hazel-colored eyes, and some curly black hair, but his facial features were more like his mom.
He had just noticed his mom at the doorstep, smiling softly at both, and looking like she was near tears. The expression was odd, but she seemed happy, so Harry didn't say anything as he laid Rial down softly on the changing table, causing the baby to squirm. "Shh, don't cry. It's going to be okay." He comforted in a whisper, just to allow the child to stay still as he unwrapped his nappy easily, cleaned him, and replaced his diaper, with minimal time and doing it like he had been doing it for a long time, which was true.
Lily watched her usually brash, rude, loud and frankly annoying son as he changed his brother's (who he was both jealous and disgusted of, according to him) with a grace that she, even after having three children, could not manage. And without any disgust on his face, but with a calm expression and a small smile on his face. Frankly, she was shocked. Even more so than when he had actually suggested the thing. And don't think she didn't notice his hair. Frankly, she had suggested before that longer hair suited him more, but he was angry and said that he hated his feminine features.
In fact, his whole attitude seemed better and calmer. He had, unlike usual, come to the kitchen without yelling or shouting, which would usually cause the baby to start crying and shouting from the noise. But now, the baby was calmer than she had ever seen him, simply squirming and looking curiously.
No more than two minutes later, the young Marauder was finished, and, with a small kiss on his brother's forehead, dressed him in baby blue footie pajamas, and held up securely. He turned to her, his head tilted in a silent question. "I think he's hungry. Is there any formula?" Not missing the fact that he knew what formula was, Lily nodded, "Would you like to-" Her sentence ended in a questioning tilt, and he widened his hopeful eyes. "Uh, c-can I?"
"Of course, sweetie." If her son was maturing all on his own, who was she to stop him?
Amelia Lily Potter was the second Potter child, younger sister to Harry James Potter, arrogant arse, and Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy. As far as she was aware, their hate was mutual and he proved it every chance he could. And yet, her brother was different than the long-haired boy with a calm smile and grace that she couldn't compare to who was feeding her baby brother Rial.
In fact, Harry hadn't even had a bite from his eggs, when he usually devoured it in seconds and asked for seconds and third helpings. Just to feed their brother. The only thing that made her relax was the fact that both her mother and father were looking oddly at Harry, almost disbelievingly. She was sure her expression mirrored theirs. Her brother was never this... gentle. Or loving. He had even said good morning to her with a happy smile. And frowned when she didn't respond back. Since when did her brother care about her beyond annoying and humiliating her at any chance?
The baby suddenly stopped sucking from the bottle, pulling away and squirming as Rial started crying. James frowned, making a move towards his son but was held back by his wife, who looked oddly contemplative, as if anticipating Harry's actions. True enough, Harry didn't look panicked, surprised, or even bothered. He placed Rial on his lap but facing away from him, and used a hand to support his body, the palm of his hand supporting his chest while his fingers gently supported Rial's chin and jaw, and tapped lightly on the baby's back, to help him burp. Sure enough, the baby burped, staining his pants but stopped crying, instead of reaching to touch Harry's hair as the older boy focused on cleaning the baby's chin, which was dripping with milk.
Amelia was impressed, even she would not be able to do that, but Harry did it naturally and efficiently as if he was used to it. Harry didn't seem to notice anyone around him as he focused on the baby before Lily asked with awe. "Harry, where did you learn to do that?" James, beside her, was similarly flabbergasted. Harry blushed, which was a weird contrast from when he'd puff up his chest arrogantly and say that it was 'no big deal from the Boy-Who-Lived'. "I, uh, read it in a book." Harry quickly made up a stuttery lie, "I wanted to help with Rial, so I just sorta..." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He moved his fingers carelessly over his pants, causing the stain on his pants to disappear. All three Potters looked at Harry with surprise. But James was the one who exclaimed. "Harry, what was that!?"
Amelia awaited as Harry yelled about how he didn't deserve to be spoken to that way, but Harry just looked confused. "What?" He tilted his head. Amelia just noticed that Rial had fallen asleep securely in Harry's grasp. "That wandless magic you did!" Amelia snapped at him, but Harry just shrugged. "It's no big deal."
"Yes, it is, Harry. Not even Dumbledore can cast wandless magic easily, and you did it so carelessly, even non-verbally!" Harry looked mildly irritated by Lily's words, but squashed down his irritation, confusing Amelia even more. He had never bothered to do it before, why now?
"All right, but I still don't understand why you are yelling at me. You are saying it like it is a bad thing." Harry looked at them curiously but Amelia could see the hidden hurt in his forest-green eyes. She didn't understand why; being able to cast wandless magic was so incredible! Was he actually hurt from the fact that Mom yelled at him? But he never cared before!
Lily seemed to notice the hurt too, because she sighed and said apologetically, "No honey, I'm just surprised. We didn't even know if you actually had magic from how weak your core was, and now, all of the sudden you're casting wandless magic, and you're not even eleven yet."
"You thought I was a squib?"
"Well, yeah. You had never cast accidental magic after that night when you defeated the You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore was thinking that maybe your core exhausted all its magic to rebound the spell from You-Know-Who." James said. Right, Harry thought with a mental roll of his eyes, because Dumbledore just happens to be the wisest man in the world and he's not at all manipulative! Well, if he isn't, then Voldemort is the next Boy-Who-Lived.
"Okay... Well, I am not a squib and I can cast magic. Capeesh?" Lily laughed as she understood the Muggle reference, while Amelia and James looked on, confused. "All right, sweetie. Now, how about we put your brother back in his crib now, or he'll get a backache and will not let us sleep all night with his crying," She said wryly, and Harry looked sheepish as he realized he forgot his brother was in his arms. Amelia didn't know how the baby looked so secure the entire time. He handed the baby back to his mother, and she left, their father trailing behind her.
Harry turned to her, with a grin even. "Hey, do you want to go play Quidditch? Or would you rather wait for a while since you just ate?"
"Uhh, what." What game was he playing, she narrowed her eyes, "Why would I want to play Quidditch at all, much less with you?" She said, sounding like an accusation of some sorts.
"What do you mean?" He looked confused. She huffed. What, did he have amnesia or something? "Well, for one, you're always horrible to me and treat me like I'm dirt, not even a human. You said that I'm ugly and you were the only child mom and dad truly wanted!" Her voice turned bitter as she spoke, until her voice was nothing but a whisper, but filled with venom and frustration. Harry had widened his eyes more and more as she spoke, until they turned guilty, gazing at the ground.
"Look," His voice was quiet, filled with sadness and shame. Harry himself did not know why he was ashamed, he wasn't the one that said all those things. But he thought if Peter Pettigrew had been caught, and his parents never killed, would he have become like this? Arrogant, despicable? "I'm really sorry. I was horrible to you and should've never treated you that way. You don't deserve to be called any of those things, and they aren't even true. Mom and Dad love you just as much as they love me, probably more," He heard her scoff, but figured it was deserved. "I know you are probably sick of people reaching out to you and saying 'you must be so proud of your brother' or 'it's your brother's birthday today' even though we share the same birthday." That wasn't hard to guess, she looked almost exactly like him, except for the colors.
She had red hair and hazel eyes, with her facial features almost exactly like his. And he could tell she would turn out to be very pretty, just like their mum. He had to smile as he imagined himself being overprotective over her boyfriends or boys she liked. "Even though I wasn't even conscious when I defeated Voldemort." He sighed tiredly, fingering the ends of his onyx hair. "Honestly, I'm kind of tired of people congratulating me on something I did as a baby. I want people to acknowledge me on something I intentionally did, with my hard work, instead of some useless accidental magic."
Amelia was shocked. She never thought, in a million years, that her brother felt like this. But if that was the case, then... "Why were you such an arse to me then, if you felt that way?"
Harry cringed inwardly. "I guess I felt a bit ashamed..." He said weakly, "I didn't want people to think that I didn't appreciate their attention, I do. It's just that, it's too annoying. I never liked it, really. I was also a bit jealous of you, you were so... normal. You had a normal life, normal friends who didn't befriend you for your influence, and people who didn't make a big damn deal about your birthday. Again, I was grateful for all that, it was just tiring." Without knowing it, Harry began speaking about himself, about how he himself truly felt.
"I don't care about the fact that I defeated Voldemort, though I suspect that it wasn't all me," Harry said dryly. Amelia narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean?"
"Come on, 'Mel, do you really think that a mere child, a baby, could defeat Voldemort when powerful Aurors couldn't?" Amelia smiled at her brother. Though she didn't forgive him entirely, something that he clearly knew, as he said: "Look, I know I was an absolute arse and I regret it. Though, I know that it will take more than that to forgive me, so, let's just... start over." Amelia stared at the hand stretched towards her. Could she do this? Could she forgive her brother for all that shite that he's done?
She found her answer surprisingly easy.
She took Harry's small palm within hers, "Okay." They let go, and Amelia was faced with the most genuine smile she had ever seen Harry give, and was even a bit surprised that it was pointed at her. It was innocent, free of all ulterior motives, just simply there.
Meanwhile, Lily and James looked on from the doorway, tears in their eyes. They had been worried that they neglected Amelia too much and spoiled Harry too much, but now, they could see how mature their kids were acting. Both Harry and Amelia were their pride and joy, and they promised to treat them equally from now on. The two could only hope they didn't mess it up like they did the first time.
Harry smiled at her gratefully, "Soo, Quidditch?" She chuckled and nodded. "Race you!" She dashed out of the kitchen, hearing Harry's laugh and his accusation, "You cheat! Wait for me!" as he followed her.
Hey, maybe the previous Harry couldn't give his family the love they deserved, but that doesn't mean Harry would do the same.