On September 14, 1992, Harry James Potter, very soon-to-be second year, in the second bedroom of his Uncle Vernon's house on Privet Drive, Surrey, met his doppelganger.
They looked exactly the same. Same messy black hair, same plain green eyes, same crooked out-of-fashion glasses, heck, standing on opposite sides of the bed, they could have been mirror reflections of each other. They were even wearing the same ratty grayish t-shirt and baggy, faded jeans.
At first, Harry didn't know how to react. One minute he turned around to grab his potions text book (which, after two agonizing weeks, he had finally gathered enough motivation to review) and then the next, poof. Bam. Pop.
He stared, disbelieving, into a pair of blank green eyes.
Cautiously, he asked. "What are you?"
His doppelganger huffed a bit. "How rude. Who are you?"
"Harry Potter." Harry Potter answered immediately. "Who are you?"
"As you can see, I'm Harry Potter, as well. How interesting."
They both stared at each other for a while.
Then, other Harry became preoccupied with picking at his clothes and glancing at the walls. It was almost like he had trouble believing that he was here, too. Finally, with a compulsory evaluation of the bed's condition, the other Harry sat at the edge of Harry's bed. Harry eyes' followed his doppelganger's every motion, and he silently swore. He certainly hadn't expected some sort of dark wizard to break into muggle London, and the stupid ministry banned underage magic. Weren't the wards supposed to keep threats out?
"What, or who, are you really?" Harry tried to ignore the nervous rush of blood in his ears.
The other Harry fixed him with an annoyed glance. "I already told you, I'm Harry Potter."
"But you can't be Harry Potter, because, well, I'm Harry Potter," he argued, grimacing at how stupid it was. "Besides," he added, "I haven't…tried…to make another me. Are you a death eater?"
"No. Why would I be a death eater?"
"Well, I'm the real Harry Potter, so you must be under polyjuice. Why aren't you trying to kill me yet?"
Other Harry smiled.
That's it, Harry thought, I'm going to die today. Screw the laws, I'm not going down without a fight. My blasted wand is in the trunk, but if I make a diversion…
Harry grabbed a fistful of old clothes and hurled them at the imposter before he could utter a word. Harry whirled around, grabbed open his trunk, and took his wand out. He held it threateningly and trained it on other Harry like a hawk.
Other Harry tossed the dirty clothes off to the floor with a scowl.
"Disgusting," he said, kicking the clothes away. "I didn't want to hurt you, but now I do, as payback. Just a little." Looking up, he scoffed at Harry's openly antagonistic pose. "You can't even use magic here, you know."
"No," Harry conceded, "but I can still hurt you."
Suddenly, they both heard the shout of "Boy!" and muffled footsteps. The two Harrys scrambled into action.
"Get into the closet!" Harry whispered. "Don't let him see you!"
"Of course I know that!"
As soon as the other Harry was gone, Harry shoved some old clothes in front of the door, and stood sullenly in silence.
"Boy!" Vernon screamed. "THE DOWNSTAIRS LIGHTS ARE FLICKERING!" He jiggled the lock open as he yelled. "I KNOW YOU'RE THE ONE DOING THAT! I PUT IN THOSE REPLACEMENTS YESTERDAY!"
Red-faced, Vernon opened the door. "You better stop that or else," he threatened. "We both know that you've been playing shenanigans again. I didn't even yell at you for making Aunt Petunia forget Dudley's permission slip yesterday! AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO? YOU FREAK!"
"I didn't do it! I'm not even allowed to do mag-"
"Don't make me hit you, you little liar! I don't trust you and your freaky kind with your freak powers. We've put up with you for 13 years, you ungrateful brat, and all you do is cause trouble!" Uncle Vernon bent down real close, so that Harry could see his uncle's scraggly nose hairs and sweaty pores. "Show some respect." Uncle Vernon turned and walked away.
Harry closed the door and leaned against it. He counted to ten, slowly. One… two… three… four… five… six—
"OPEN THE DOOR! DO YOU HEAR ME?"
Slowly, he opened the door and put on his most put-out face. "I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," he said. "I won't do it again."
"I don't believe a word of it," his uncle spat, and the door was slammed in his face.
Other Harry opened the closet door and glanced at the whitewash that had fallen from the ceiling. "Sheesh, what a beast." he remarked, turning his eyes onto Harry. "Always is at this time of month. So," he asked.
"I guess you're not trying to kill me, then."
"Told you so."
Harry glanced around helplessly.
"We can't have two Harrys walking around all the time," he said. "We could send an owl to Dumbledore…?"
"Not so fast," the other started mildly. He tested the mattress. "How do I know that you aren't just some imposter Voldemort sent to kill me?"
Harry raised his brows. "Well, for one, I'm not trying to kill you-"
"Really. What was all that about 'I can still hurt you'?" he teased.
Harry glared. "How am I supposed to know if you are evil or not?"
Other Harry hummed pleasantly. "Too difficult."
"Yeah," Harry continued, "and you know perfectly well that I'm the real Harry, or the original Harry, or whatever, because you haven't been working up a storm about it. So you know about this." He studied the other warily. "Who are you, really?"
His doppelganger shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not actually sure. I just came to in this room. I don't suppose you could think of a reason why…?"
"Magic." Harry snorted. "How would I know?"
There was an awkward silence between the two. Harry, realizing his mistake, added, "Uh, but I'm sure there was an important reason for your creation. Like, you'll help me defeat you-know-who or something."
Other Harry thinned his lips and studied the trunk. "There better be a good reason for why I was brought here, because I feel like I've left something very important behind."
"Well," Harry said uncomfortably, "there's that, yes, and then there's our present situation."
Not much of a cliffhanger there, sorry. Anyone want to take a guess at who "other Harry" is? :)
Props to those who caught the "coming out of the closet" reference, although this story might end up being nonslash.