The Other One

So, I don't own Harry Potter...Damn.

Summary: James and Lily had twins, one whom would become known as the Boy-Who-Lived, while the other was mentioned only in passing. When Harry Potter began his education at Hogwarts, there was no mention of his twin brother for he had not come along. After all, Hogwarts doesn't accept children who seemingly have no magic running through their veins. But was that the case with the other Potter?

July 1991

Harry James and Ian Sirius Potter. Born 31 July 1980 to James and Lily Potter. They weren't identical twins. Harry had their father's messy jet black hair and their mother's bright green eyes while Ian had curly brown hair that wasn't from either of his parents, but he had his father's hazel eyes. Also, Harry had an unusual lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

The two brothers lived with their Aunt Petunia, their mother's sister, and her family. They had lost their parents, according to their aunt, in a car accident when they were only a year old. Neither boy could remember their parents, and they only remembered what they looked like thanks to an old photograph that had been hidden in an old box in the Dursley home of Privet Drive.

The Dursley home held four bedrooms, enough to fit the three Dursley's and two Potter twins. This was not the case, for one room went to Aunt Petunia and her large husband, Uncle Vernon, and another two went to cousin Dudley, who had his mother's blond hair and his uncle's large frame. The remaining room was kept for Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge.

Where did Harry and Ian sleep, though? If anyone outside of the Dursley home asked, the answer would be in Dudley's second bedroom, which was full of broken and unused toys and books, things Dudley had no interest in. The real answer was crueler, for the Potter twins were forced to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. It had been a long time since the tiny, spider-infested space had fit both boys. There was a small bed inside the cupboard, but it didn't fit both boys. Every night, one brother would sleep on top of the bed, while the other slept under it. It was not ideal in the slightest, but it was the best that the boys could do.

Tonight, it was Ian who was under the bed. It was uncomfortable for the taller of the two brothers. He had to pull his knees up against his chest, or at least partially because he had grown quite a bit, though he was only an inch or two taller than his older twin brother. He also had to deal with his brother shifting in his sleep, but he didn't complain. He no doubt did it too in his sleep.

If only Harry was asleep.

"If we could be anywhere, where would we be?" Ian asked quietly. He didn't want to wake up the Dursley's, they were nasty towards him and his brother during the day, but they were far worse after being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Somewhere where we both belong," Ian heard from his green-eyed brother. Harry moved a bit in the bed, causing it to creak and clatter against the ground.

"Why do they hate us so much?" Harry questioned.

Ian frowned, unsure of how to answer that question. "Maybe they're jealous of our good looks," the boy said, his joke falling flat. Harry quietly laughed though, not willing to let his brother's words go unheard.

"I wonder what we did to make them so angry," Ian said, looking at a spider that was inches away from his face.

"Surviving what our parents didn't," Harry guessed, a bitter tone settling in his voice. "What other explanation is there?"

Ian didn't respond, he didn't need to. They probably would never receive an answer, not from the Dursley's, anyways.

"Dad, look! Harry's got a letter!"

Ian looked up from the eggs he was attempting not to burn. It was his morning to make breakfast, not that anyone other than him and Harry actually cooked. His brother was better when it came to operating the stove, he, after all, didn't once set it on fire. His arm still hurts from the burns, not to mention the violent swats Uncle Vernon had given him with an old leather belt. Of course, the cause of the fire was still a mystery to Ian. None of the burners had been on, and the fire didn't erupt from strange looking smoke.

Ian watched as his blond-haired cousin charged towards his father, his entire body swaying from one side to the other. An odd-looking letter was in the boy's hand.

With wide but small eyes, the beefy man tore it out of his equally large son's hands.

"That's mine!" Harry said, glaring at his uncle, who was staring down at the letter with anger and horror.

Slowly, the man looked back up at Harry and bolted out of his seat. Ian froze, while Harry winced and jumped back. Ian looked away when his uncle-by-marriage glared at him, before looking again back at the boy's twin brother, who didn't waver.

That was the beginning, Ian would come to learn. More letters with Harry's name came, but Uncle Vernon always managed to get to them before Harry could.

Ian remembered how, on the first night after the first letter, he could hear his aunt and uncle talking about him and his brother. He was on top of the bed, while Harry was below him, restlessly sleeping.

"Why did only one receive a letter?" Aunt Petunia said from the sitting room. Ian could hear them, for they didn't try to hide their words.

"He was always the stranger one," Uncle Vernon grunted. Ian knew that they were talking about him, and that made him shiver involuntarily. "We should have done what we did to him to his brother."

When he was younger, an odd incident had occurred that's always stuck with Ian. He had been running from Dudley and his group of troublesome friends, while Harry was with Mrs. Figg, helping her look for one of her blasted cats a few streets over. He had run out towards the Dursley home, far enough that he could no longer see Dudley and his friends, but stopped in the middle of the road. A car had been coming, but it never hit him. It had gone through him.

He wouldn't have believed it, despite being there, had his uncle not of seen too. After all, it was his car that had almost hit him.

Ian flinched when he remembered how angry his uncle had been. He had been dragged right into the house, of course after Uncle Vernon had parked the car. His Aunt Petunia had also seen the incident and had coldly stared at him as her husband relentlessly beat on him.

"P-please, stop it!" Ian had cried, he must have been only 6-years-old. "I-I-I won't do it again! I'm sorry, please stop!"

Uncle Vernon didn't stop though, not when he heard those words. He had continued with his beating, which didn't stop until Ian had nearly stopped breathing. The boy remembered waking up on the kitchen floor, where the event had occurred. He was covered in blood, and his aunt was still staring down at him with hateful eyes.

"Clean up your mess," she had said to him. "And if you speak a word of this to your brother, it will happen to him too."

Ian believed her. He grew more fearful of his aunt and uncle after that day, but it was nothing in comparison as to his fear of himself. What he had done, it was unnatural. He didn't know what it was, though. How could he? The Dursley's were completely against anything unnatural, and now Ian was the very thing they hated. Not long after, whenever he got himself worked up, strange smoke would appear. It never went far, and it often didn't last longer than a few seconds, but it was there none other the less.

Ian could hear his brother's breathing. It was never good for him to dwell on the past, it always made him feel nervous, and that was never good when it came to his unusual...ability. He saw the same spider from before, it was crawling on his hand, but he didn't swat it away. It didn't do anything to him, so why should he harm it?

31 July 1991

Harry and Ian's uncle had finally cracked. After the sitting room was flooded with so many letters, he packed everyone up and took them to an island that was in the middle of nowhere.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in the little room upstairs, while Dudley was snoring on the sofa. The Potter twins were on the ground next to the fireplace.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Ian said to his brother softly.

"Happy birthday, little brother," Harry replied as he looked at his twin.

"I'm only younger than you by a few minutes."

"You're still younger than me, which means that it's my job to protect you."

Ian's lip twitched, but he didn't smile, nor did he frown. His brother didn't know, and that's how it was going to stay. For now, at least. He didn't want to worry Harry, didn't want to get him into trouble. Ian closed his eyes, though they didn't remain as such for long.

Not until the wooden door fell to the ground and the biggest man he had ever seen was on the other side.

So, what do you think? Should I continue?

I know there might be some mistakes, so I apologize.

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Until next time...