Saturday 2nd May 1998

With a blast like a canon the silvery sphere started to crumble, the weight of thousands of spells causing giant cracks to form, slowly exposing the magical castle formerly hidden beneath. The sound was so deafeningly loud that the ground beneath the eight young witches and wizards trembled, threatening to spill them into the deep ravine only a few feet away from their vantage point.

"Ten Galleons Hogwarts falls," Kevin muttered from behind Harrell's left shoulder.

"I'd take that bet," Zoe replied from Harrell's right. "Hogwarts will never fall."

Harrell Potter ignored them both, emerald eyes fixed upon the clifftop much further down from his small group. A black swarm, illuminated by the light of the spells they were firing. An army ready to tear down his school brick by brick, wizard by wizard to find his brother. And, in front of the Death Eaters, ghostly pale face shining in malice was the horror who had started it all: Lord Voldemort.

As if sensing his gaze, the Dark Lord twisted his snake-like head to face him. Even at this distance, Harrell could have sworn he nodded.

"This is it, isn't it?" Jax asked, dirty blond hair suddenly blasted back from his face as another wave of magic pulsed, another crack splintering the shield.

"Yes," Harrell breathed, turning his gaze back towards the school which had been his home for nine long years. "This is it."

Friday 31st July 1988

Music thrummed throughout the Potter Manor, only partially drowning the civilised chatter of guests sipping pumpkin juice and nibbling on cauldron cakes. Occasional screams and shouts of joy could be heard from the expansive garden as children whizzed around on brooms or splashed each other with water under the scolding summer sun.

Yet Harrell Potter sat alone in his bedroom at the very top of the house, currently cross-legged on the bed, head firmly stuck in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three. Despite having near perfect eyesight, the ten year old was forced to squint, the thick curtains over his window hardly allowing sunlight to seep into the dusty air.

If he really wanted to, Harrell supposed he could join the millions of adoring fans downstairs, but honestly? There was no point. He'd already wished Alexander Potter a very happy eighth birthday that morning while his overexcited younger brother had been tearing into a sky high mound of presents. Why should he bother saying it again?

Harrell turned a page, tilting his head to listen as the noise momentarily diminished. Then, all at once, it swelled up again in a deafening chorus of Happy Birthday. The chocolate cake Lily Potter had spent the whole of yesterday cooking must be making an appearance.

Snapping his book shut, Harrell pushed himself to his feet, placing it back in one of the many bookshelves littering his large room. He turned around and found himself staring into the mirror on his wall. A pair of intelligent, emerald eyes stared back, pale face framed by silky raven hair that fell to just above his jawline. Fortunately (in his opinion), he had missed out on the worst of the Potter genes, therefore looking nothing like his messy, brown-haired brother with his hazel eyes, thin face and famous lightning bolt scar.

Thank Merlin… it was bad enough that he was related to him, he'd hate to look like him too.

"Harry." The soft call came accompanied by a gentle knock on his door.

Harrell bit back a groan, instead fixing his facial features into that of a relaxed smile before swinging the door open to reveal a red headed woman, hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. "I prefer Harrell, mother," he said by way of greeting.

"Okay, sweetie," Lily Potter said, ruffling his hair. Harrell resisted the urge to pat it flat. "Did you want to come down for some cake?"

"No thank you," Harrell immediately replied, his tone polite, even and entirely false.

Lily bit her lip, glancing down the stairs behind her and then looking back at her charming young son. "Are you sure? Al wants to see you."

"Alexander can see me any day of the week," Harrell said with a small shrug.

"But today is his birthday—"

"Mother," Harrell interrupted. "Alexander is busy with his fan club right now. He doesn't want to see me."

Lily sighed. "It's not a fan club, Harry- Harrell. They're his friends. Besides, I want to see you."

"You're seeing me now," the ten-year-old pointed out, receiving a wave of exasperation in return.

"Fine," Lily said, throwing her hands in the air and taking a step back. "Stay up here if you want but be downstairs for dinner at six. The guests will have left by then."

"Okay," Harrell said, his hand resting on the silver door handle.

His mother looked as if she were on the verge of saying something more but she simply gave him one last rushed smile before disappearing.

Harrell pushed the door shut.

Monday 31st October 1988

Harrell hated his birthday more than any other time of the year.

It wasn't the presents; they were alright, mostly consisting of books seeing as no one really knew what else to get him.

It wasn't the food; after all, Lily Potter was an excellent cook and made the best treacle tart.

It wasn't even being forced to spend the entire day in the company of his chaotic family, though he'd have to admit, that was a contributing factor.

However, it was the hordes of uninvited reporters flashing cameras through the windows. It was Alexander's face grinning up from the front page of the Daily Prophet. It was the fact that seven years ago to this day, Lord Voldemort had perpetrated an attack on their family, Sirius Black had died and Alexander Potter had become the boy-who-lived.

From what information Harrell had gleaned from whispered conversations between his parents, vague paragraphs in books and the wizarding gossip mill, he'd managed to - just about - piece together what had happened that fateful night.

When Lord Voldemort had attacked (for reasons yet unknown), the two Potter children were being babysat by Sirius, Harrell's late godfather, while James and Lily were in an emergency meeting with Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort had proceeded to head straight for Alexander's crib, and, when Sirius had refused to step aside and allow the dark wizard to kill the toddler, Sirius had been slain. However, instead of Alexander joining the thousands of people dead at Voldemort's hand, the curse had rebounded, striping Voldemort of his powers and leaving Alexander with nothing but a lightning scar.

Of course, Harrell knew that Alexander had survived with nothing more than another's love and sheer dumb luck, but the rest of the wizarding world was convinced that he was a saviour, the chosen one.

And that was why Harrell hated his birthday.

"Happy Birthday, mini Prongslet number one!" James Potter announced, his black hair sticking up at all angles as he sauntered into the kitchen to hug Harrell from behind, causing him to choke on his bacon and eggs.

"I thought I was mini Prongslet number one," Alexander said from the other side of the table, flicking his messy brown hair out of his eyes to mock pout.

"Nope," James replied, walking over to hug his other son, this time getting the hug returned. "You're mini Prongslet number two."

Alexander peered up into his father's face. "Why can't I be mini Prongslet number one?"

"Because it's not your birthday," James said with a grin, running a hand through Alexander's hair to the effect that it became even messier than before.

Internally, Harrell sighed, resigning himself to a whole day of his family's exceedingly annoying antics. At least he'd get to see Remus later… that was a plus. Remus was the only person he'd met so far who he could stand to be in a room with for longer than two minutes, and, for his standards, there was no higher compliment he could give.

"James, would you like an egg?" Lily asked, waving her wand to summon a clean plate from the cupboard above the stove.

"Two please-"

Lily fixed her husband with a sharp look. "If you want two you can make the second one yourself."

"Ah, Lily," James said, moving towards the stove to kiss his wife on the cheek. "This is exactly why I love you."

"Ew," Alexander cried, screwing up his face into a grimace. "Dad that's gross!"

Luckily, that particular conversation was stopped in its tracks by a man donned in shabby robes falling out of their fireplace.

There was a second of silence, then: "I never seem to get the landings right," the man chuckled, climbing back to his feet only to be nearly bowled over again with the force of James's hug.

"Moony!" Harrell's father yelped, beaming widely. "I though you weren't coming until after lunch."

"My morning freed up," the man said, then his face split into a huge grin as he caught sight of the two Potter brothers. "Harrell! Al! How are you both?"

"Great thanks, Uncle Moony," Alexander said around a mouthful of bacon. "Dad got us all tickets to see the Appleby Arrows next week."

"So I heard," Remus replied, taking a seat at the table next to Harrell. "Your father already told me all about it."

"Well it's a really important match, Moony," James said, grabbing his egg and collapsing into a chair. "See, if the Arrows can beat the Harpies by more than two hundred points they'll move up to second in the league, meaning-"

"So Harrell," Remus said loudly, turning his back on his old school friend. "Happy eleventh birthday."

"Thank you," Harrell said and this time he didn't have to fake a smile.

The rest of the day continued in routine fashion. His parents spent the majority of it at the front door, attempting to shoo away the reporters, while Harrell and Remus played match after match of wizard's chess, Harrell winning every time. Alexander sat moodily on the back of the sofa, peeking through the curtains at the reporters then quickly snapping them closed every time there was a camera flashed in his direction.

It was mid afternoon by the time anything particularly interesting happened. Lily called Alexander out to do 'one and only one' interview on the condition that the reporters would quit clogging up their front lawn afterwards.

"You know, I think you're the lucky brother, Harrell," Remus said, frowning down at the chessboard between them after Alexander had left. "That much fame at such a young age can never be a good thing."

"Why do you think I steer completely clear of the press? Most people don't even know Alexander has an older brother," Harrell replied. "Knight to F8. That's checkmate."

Remus chuckled. "Again? That's what… five wins in two hours? You're too good for me."

"Afraid so." Harrell collected up the pieces and began setting them out on the board once more.

"Wait a minute, Harrell," Remus said, causing the younger boy to look up. "I want to give you your birthday present."

"Uh, you already did?" Harrell said, referring to the Defence against the Dark Arts book he'd gotten earlier.

"There's a second part," Remus said with a fatherly smile.

Leaning to the side to grab his bag, he pulled out an old, wooden box and gently passed it over. Intrigued, Harrell opened the lid. On a bed of dusty purple velvet was a silver ring threaded on a chain.

"It was my father's," Remus said quietly. "And his father's before that. I'm meant to pass it on to my child but I doubt that can ever happen now. I want you to have it."

"Really?" Harrell asked, holding the ring up for closer inspection. There was a decorative L etched into the precious metal, presumably for 'Lupin', but other than that, the ring was plain.

"Of course."

Touched, Harrell slipped the thin chain over his neck. Little did he know that he wouldn't remove it for nine years.

Wednesday 26th July 1989

Despite the blustery July wind that tugged at his hair and pulled at his robes, Diagon Alley remained every bit as impressive as the last time Harrell had visited the infamous street. Rows of magical shops stretched either side of the cobblestone road, bustling witches and wizards hurrying around them. Crumpled up in his left hand, held tight lest the wind whip it away from him, was the Hogwarts letter that had arrived in the post a few days ago.

"Al!"

At the shout, Harrell glanced up to see a gangly boy with a shock of red hair racing straight towards them.

Oh great.

"Hey, Ron!" Alexander exclaimed, stopping slap bang in the middle of the street to grin at his best friend, nearly causing Harrell to walk straight into him. "Didn't know you would be here."

"Fred and George are getting their school stuff," Ron said, indicating behind him to the rest of the Weasley gang, now following Ron over. "Oh, hi Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter," he said, smiling at their parents. Then, he glanced briefly in Harrell's direction. "Um, Harrell."

Harrell nodded once at the freckled boy, then consulted his list. The four of them had flooed to the Leaky Cauldron half an hour ago but he was yet to buy a thing. Why was it that every single witch or wizard in the street felt the need to stop his parents to chat to them, or worse, stop his brother to shake his hand?

"Molly, how good to see you," Lily said as the rather dumpy woman approached, the youngest Weasley girl clutching at her hand.

"You too, Lily," Molly smiled. "How are things over at St. Mungo's?"

"They're wonderful, thank you. You know, we had the strangest patient in the ward the other day, came in with a trumpet stuck to his mouth and cymbals attached to his hands. Heaven only knows how they got there-"

Harrell groaned. All he wanted to do was get a wand, yet they'd probably be stuck here for the rest of the day now that Mrs. Weasley and his mother had begun to chat. Really, was getting his school supplies such a difficult task?

"Father," Harrell said, catching James's attention from where he'd begun chatting to the twins in hushed, excited tones, most likely giving them pranking ideas for the upcoming year. "May I start buying my school things?"

"Mm?" His father said, glancing over his shoulder at him. "Er, sure, if you want. Why don't you go with Gred and For- sorry, Fred and George, they were going to head to Gambol and Jape's Joke Shop."

Harrell eyed the red haired twins, both of whom gave him identical innocent smiles. "No thank you," Harrell said warily, long ago learning that spending as little time with the Weasley twins as possible was crucial to survival. "I want to go to Flourish and Blotts."

"Ew, books," one of the twins said, screwing up his face.

"Reading," the other one said, pretending to look queasy.

"Think we'll pass," said the first.

"How about Lily, Al and I meet you at Madam Malkin's in twenty minutes?" James said.

Harrell shrugged, turning away. "See you there."

And he was free. Well, free for twenty minutes, but a small amount of time was better than none at all.

Thankfully, Flourish and Blotts wasn't too crowded, allowing Harrell plenty of opportunity to browse as he pleased. In truth he already owned all of the first year textbooks and had read them a long time ago. When you were stuck in your room, busy avoiding your irritating family, the press and the wizarding community as a whole, it was easy to get bored.

Avoiding eye contact with the other people in the shop, he headed into the furthest corner. It was quieter there, probably because it shelved the sort of books people tended to avoid, the sort that only just managed to scrape through Ministry approval.

Harrell picked out a book at random and glanced briefly at the title: Monstrous Curses and How To Avoid Them. Honestly, how was that classed as a book for inquiry? It wasn't as if it said how to cast the curses, the key word was avoid, for Merlin's sake. The Ministry workers were a bunch of morons. Harrell scoffed and flicked to the first page.

"Good book?"

Harrell jumped, slamming the front cover closed and spinning to his right. A boy, probably about his age judging by his height, stood before him. He had short, dirty blond hair and dark blue eyes that held a mischievous sparkle.

"Yes," Harrell said, his own eyes narrowing.

"Mm, monstrous curses," the boy smirked, glancing at the cover. "I'm sure a first year would really need to learn how to defend themselves from those."

"I won't be a first year forever."

The boy straightened up from where he'd been leaning against a bookshelf and observed Harrell curiously. "Selwyn," he said after a moment. "Jax Selwyn."

The noble and most ancient house of Selwyn, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. That explained the cocky attitude. "Pleasure," Harrell said dryly, turning his back on Selwyn to return his book to the shelf.

"What about you?" Selwyn asked, seemingly determined to keep the conversation going. "What's your surname?"

Still facing the other way, Harrell rolled his eyes. "Potter," he said, picking another book at random from a shelf and beginning to walk over to the till.

Selwyn laughed. "Potter?" he repeated, following Harrell. "Go on then, let's see your scar."

Harrell turned to face him once more. "Well I do have this one just here," he said mockingly, rolling back the sleeve of his left arm to reveal a thin white line. "I got that when I was four and my accidental magic caused a mirror to smash. One of the shards cut me-"

"No, I meant the lightning scar," Selwyn said irritably.

Harrell frowned politely. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. I suppose this one could almost be a lightning bolt if it was in the right light," he said, twisting his arm and squinting at it from different angles.

"I'm not stupid," Selwyn said, his tone beginning to heat up. "I know you're not Alexander Potter."

Harrell let his sleeve fall. "Whoever said I was Alexander Potter?"

"Well you're not old enough to be James Potter," Selwyn reasoned, his lip curling. "And I'd be extremely disturbed if you were Lily Potter-"

"I'm Harrell Potter," Harrell said. "Alexander's older brother."

Selwyn's tirade fell silent, giving Harrell a chance to turn away from him and stride up to the till.

"Alexander doesn't have an older brother," Selwyn said, coming up to stand next to him. "You're making this up."

"I can assure you I'm not," Harrell said, passing the shopkeeper some money.

"I've never heard of Alexander having an older brother-"

"Selwyn," Harrell said, grabbing his book and walking towards the exit. "Do yourself a favour and shut up."

Thankfully, Selwyn didn't follow Harrell any further, leaving him to visit the apothecary and gather his potions supplies in peace. After rejoining his parents and brother (with joy, he learnt that the Weasleys had disappeared to do their own shopping) he bought his school robes, a cauldron, a telescope and a set of scales. And then, after eleven long years of waiting, they entered Ollivander's.

The second Harrell passed the threshold, a distinct hush surrounded him. It was as though none of the sound from the packed street outside could enter this dim shop filled with tottering piles of dusty boxes and scattered mounds of parchment. A chill raced up Harrell's spine, the hairs on his arms standing on end. The very air around him was crackling with untamed magic, pressing in on all sides.

"This place gives me the creeps," James muttered from behind him, closing the shop door and relaxing onto a spindly chair in the corner to wait.

"I agree," Alexander said, perching on his father's lap and crossing his arms over his chest. "Can we go soon? I want to go and meet Ron."

"Not now, Al," Lily said. "Wait for your brother to get his wand first."

And stop being such a jealous prick, Harrell added in his head. Just because you're not going to Hogwarts...

"But mum," Alexander started to whine.

"Alexander Potter." The crinkled voice came from the very depths of the shop, and a moment later an old man followed it. He was flimsy and pale, a mop of wispy white hair sitting atop his head, and he had the most penetrating silver eyes that Harrell had ever seen.

Alexander immediately stopped whining.

"What a pleasure it is to meet you at last!" The old man, who was surely none other than Ollivander, held out his hand and Alexander hesitantly shook it. "But you're not old enough to be needing a wand just yet. So that means..."

Ollivander turned to face Harrell. "Harry Potter?"

"I go by Harrell," Harrell said, shaking the extended hand with buckets more confidence than his brother.

"Ah," the old man said slowly, his unblinking, silvery eyes staring straight into his with an expression Harrell couldn't decipher. "Well, Mr. Potter, I think I have just the wand for you."

"You do?" Harrell said. Although he wasn't exactly what you'd call an expert on wandlore, he was still fairly certain that a witch or wizard had to try several different wands before they found their match. But who was he to question?

"Indeed," Ollivander smiled. "And I believe it's quite eager to meet you."

Harrell watched curiously as Ollivander shuffled behind the desk, pausing a few shelves down to stand upon a footstool and reach right up to one of the topmost shelves, withdrawing a dusty box. As he returned, Harrell was astounded to see that the box appeared to be quivering in Ollivander's hands, vibrating from side to side as if in excitement.

"Yes," Ollivander mused, catching what Harrell, and indeed his parents and younger brother, were staring at. "It's been a while since I've had one of these particular wands react to their true owners the moment they entered my shop." Ollivander placed the wand on the desk and immediately it stilled, giving him a chance to open the lid and remove an elegant, light-coloured wand. "Vine and Dragon heartstring, 12 ½ inches, very flexible," Ollivander said, holding out the wand to Harrell.

His heartbeat suddenly increasing to a mile a minute, Harrell took the wand, utterly unsure of what to expect. But the second he made contact, a flame of warmth flooded through his body, causing his breath to hitch. From the tip of the wand came a blast of what could only be pure magic, a strong wind that rippled through the shop, pushing Harrell's hair back from his face and whipping his robes.

From behind him, James whistled and Lily cheered. Even Alexander had the decency to clap.

"How splendid," Ollivander beamed, taking Harrell's wand back from him, returning it to the box, then proceeding to the till. "I don't sell many vine wands, you know, Mr. Potter, their owners can be rare. But I feel confident in saying that we'll be hearing much more from you."

Harrell left Ollivander's shop barely concealing a wide grin of happiness. Not only had he finally bought a wand, meaning he was now able to perform the spells he'd been reading about since forever, but he'd been chosen by a rare wand wood. He doubted even running into the Weasleys could ruin his mood now.

Luckily they didn't run into the Weasleys again that day, although, they did run into two people of a slightly more pureblood nature.

"Ah, James," a rich voice said, the tall man it belonged to stopping James in the street. "I did mean to speak to you at the ministry on Monday, but since you're here… The Department of International Magical Co-operation has informed me this morning that both Germany and Iceland are in complete agreement with Project 42."

"Excellent," James replied, flicking back into 'auror mode', his day job. "That only leaves us to convince France before we can get a majority vote-"

"James," Lily interrupted. "Perhaps now isn't the time," she raised her eyebrow at the crowded street around them.

"Um, yes perhaps you're right," James said, smiling at his work colleague. "We'd best be off now anyway, Harrell's just finished all his Hogwarts shopping."

It was at that moment that Jax Selwyn, who had been staring at Alexander, Lily, James and Harrell with his mouth half open while their fathers were conversing, finally spoke. "Wait," he said, eyes flicking between Alexander's scar and the innocent-looking Harrell. "You were serious?"

Harrell smirked, and then turned to James. "Father, can we return home? I'm rather tired."

"Yeah, 'course," James said, frowning down in slight confusion at his colleague's son.

"Great," Harrell said, striding ahead, then pausing to grin back at Jax. "Until our next meeting," he said.

Together, the family of four headed off down the street. After they were a safe distance away, Alexander turned to Harrell and said, "Did you know that boy?"

Harrell shrugged, smiling to himself. "Nah, not really."

Monday 31st August, 1989

Harrell sat cross-legged on his bed, wand in his right hand and spell book open on his knee, watching his tawny owl, Isra, flap away across the night sky, a letter clamped in her talons. On the floor next to his bed lay his Hogwarts trunk, packed, sealed and ready for his train journey to the esteemed castle tomorrow morning. Lifting his wand up, Harrell gave it a delicate wave. "Lumos," he said carefully, before very nearly blinding himself. Maybe staring directly at the wand tip hadn't been the best idea.

With the heel of his left palm, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to remove the bright yellow spot that seemed imprinted there.

His last day within the Potter household had probably been one of the best days of all time. Alexander had been in a grumpy (totally jealous) mood all day – which automatically increased Harrell's spirits. Other than that, the day had been quiet, but all that ran through Harrell's mind was, 'this is the last day I'll be stuck in this house, for a whole four months'. And no thought could make him happier.

Turning back to his wand, careful not to stare directly at it this time, Harrell closed the book on his knee and threw it down beside his trunk, letting it slam on the wooden floor. He held his wand higher, grinning. Tomorrow, he'd start a whole new life, away from his parents, away from Alexander's fame. He'd build his own fame, his letter would make sure of that.

"Nox," he whispered.

Blanket Disclaimer: *sighs* If only I owned the Harry Potter universe... But, irritatingly, JK Rowling has that wonderful right.

Author's Note: Ahhhhhh! Well, I think that effectively sums up how EXCITED I am for this story! Okay, Trouble, calm down before you scare them all away... So I have to say thank you to my beta for this story - HPlover4ever - for helping me to make this story even more awesome than it already is (in my biased opinion) and I'd absolutely love (when I say love, I mean cry with happiness) to receive any reviews telling me what you think so far!