Disclaimer: Belong to me, Harry Potter does not. Talk like Yoda I am trying. But there is no try. And no, I don't own Star Wars either…and for the record, it's completely irrelevant.


Change: n. a transformation or modification; alteration

"Avada Kedavra!"

These words seemed to echo, filling the night with a sinister ring. The world slowed down as the ethereal green light flashed toward the youngest of the two boys in the crib, creating a sickly colour as it sparkled against his auburn hair.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Words that had summoned the dark side of Death himself to the small cottage in Wales, resonating through the cold autumn air.

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

It was only logical that the prophecy child would be the youngest; born on the very tail end of the final day of July…unless a recording error had been made…

"Wait…wait…now—PUSH!"

The auburn-haired woman screamed, clutching her husband's hand like a lifeline. The man winced at her grip but put on a brave face, offering her comfort.

"Don't worry, Lils, it's almost over…just push, he's almost out," he tried to soothe.

"Perhaps you're forgetting, James, that there—are—two…" she trailed off through gritted teeth as another contraction came.

"I know, Lily. But you're doing great."

"ARGH!" The woman gave one final push and the rest of the child followed its head out. It had black fuzz covering its head and when it blinked, pale green eyes stared out into the world for the first time.

"It's a boy!" the nurse cried. "Congratulations, Lord Potter, you have an heir."

"That's convenient, but I'm happier that I'm finally a father," James said with a forced smile. The nurse was a pureblood, one of the old families who hadn't completely given up their old ways, and had been grating on his nerves from the moment he had arrived with his wife. She grunted neutrally and marked down the time of birth.

The next child came, fraternal twin of the first, just after the clock stroke midnight. He had auburn hair, much like his mother's, with green eyes that matched hers as well. In an act of carelessness that would eventually come to tear a family apart, the nurse marked down July 31st as the child's birthday…

The elder, black-haired twin stared in fear as the stranger raised his wand and shot a spell at his brother. In a moment of pure instinct he moved toward his twin, pushing the younger boy down and turning to face the entrancing light.

"To Harry James and Liam Remus Potter!" cried the proud father, raising his glass. The rest of the Order followed, laughing heartily as they celebrated one of the only bright things that had happened in those dark times. A dark-haired man sitting next to him pouted.

"Why didn't you name one after me?" he whined, much to the amusement of the group.

"C'mon, Padfoot, you're already their godfather. Besides, Lily didn't want to inflate your head anymore than it already is. Said she wasn't gonna fix your shirts when the neck hole stretches out too much."

"Ha ha," Sirius looked dejected, then brightened. "When can I come over and see them? As godfather it is my duty to corrupt them in ways that you are unable to as your wife would make you sleep on the couch."

James stuck his tongue out. "Tomorrow, I think. Lily wants to teach you how to feed them and change their diapers."

Sirius wrinkled his nose, disgusted. "On the other hand…"

"Not in a million years, Pads. It is your duty as godfather to be able to take care of them, after all," James laughed…

The curse sped forward, hitting the elder twin right in the forehead. Rather than dropping dead, however, the child seemed to absorb the hostile energy. He collapsed, convulsing as his body tried to rid itself of the foreign magic. His brother was crying, crocodile tears running down his blotchy face as he watched Harry writhing in pain. The man, once over his shock at the sable-haired boy's reaction to the Killing Curse, raised his wand again.

However, before his tongue could even begin to form the words that he had spoken more than a million times a bright light radiated from the older child. It had no colour, apart from the green tendrils that were slowly creeping from the boy's very pores. In a clap of thunder they were released, ricocheting back toward the man.

He dropped, body hitting the floor with a dull thud that somehow managed to break through Liam's crying. It was accompanied by a crash as the ceiling caved in, weakened by the explosion of magic. A stray piece of shrapnel flew over by the twins, hitting Liam's left shoulder, somehow carving an X and landing in a small puddle of blood that was gathering by Harry's head, coming from the lightning mark on the boy…

James stiffened as he felt a tingle run down his spine. It wasn't a normal tingle, either—not from relaxation, or even malaise. It was a tingle that was laced with magic; the magic of the wards around his Godric's Hollow home breaking down.

"James, what is it?" his wife asked from his side as Dumbledore spoke. They were at an Order meeting, the first the pair had been able to attend in over a year. Sirius and Remus looked over at their friend, concerned. The fourth Marauder, Peter Pettigrew, was conspicuous in his absence. James internally cursed at the traitor.

"Lily, stay here," he returned. "The wards at Godric's Hollow have been breached!" he raised his voice, interrupting the Headmaster. An uproar followed his words.

Three bangs came from the end of Dumbledore's wand. Lily was staring, wide-eyed and ashen-faced, at James. "James, Remus, Alastor, Minerva, and I will go to Godric's Hollow. Too many of us will cause too much damage. The rest of you will remain here and await further instructions. If we need backup one of us shall send a patronus."

"What about me?" Sirius asked, angrily. He flinched back as Dumbledore's icy gaze turned to him.

"The secret to their whereabouts was given away. To my knowledge, you were chosen as the Potter's Secret Keeper."

"Sirius was a decoy, it was actually Pettigrew," James spat the name. "Padfoot's coming too, we need him. Now can we get going? I need to get to my sons!"

Dumbledore blinked, but accepted James' explanation. "Very well. Alice, if you could keep Lily—"

"Of course, Headmaster," Alice Longbottom was already at her friend's side, restraining her. "C'mon, Lils, you aren't in any state to help," she murmured. James looked on sadly before leaving with the rest.

When the group got to the house, it was in ruins. Fortunately, the muggle-repelling charms had held and no emergency services were at the scene. James, Sirius, and Remus ran forward, followed quickly by the rest of their group. Dumbledore held them back.

"Not so quickly," he muttered. "Homenum Revelio," he incanted, and a shadow swooped down. "The twins are in their nursery. No one else is here."

"What about Bathilda?" Alastor asked, bringing up the babysitter the Potters had watching their children while they attended the meeting.

"Here!" Minerva called, shifting some wood with her wand. "Oh dear," she said softly. "She was dead long before the house collapsed."

James rushed up the now rickety stairs with Remus and Sirius on his heels. As he drew closer he heard crying. Liam, he thought desperately. He could tell the difference between his children's cries. But what about Harry?

He burst into the room. He saw Liam in the crib, face red and stained with tears. Below him was Harry, laying on the mattress, forehead cut open and bleeding. James rushed forward, scooping his elder son into his arms and conjuring a bandage around his head. Liam reached out his arms and was picked up by his godfather who cradled him to his chest in a rare show of somberness, copying James and bandaging his younger godson's shoulder.

Content that his cubs were alright, for the moment, Remus sent a quick scan around the room. His eyes fell on a piece of cloak trapped under a bit of wood from the ceiling. It was quite obviously not of the same material that the Potters usually had robes made of. He began to shift away the debris.

Alastor, and Minerva arrived and helped him as Dumbledore inspected the twins. Father, godfather, and headmaster all turned as Minerva let out a gasp.

Laying there, covered in debris, was the Dark Lord—Voldemort.

Handing the newly-healed Harry and Liam to James who immediately drew his son to his chest as if trying to shield him forever from the horrors of the world, Dumbledore stepped forward, wand raised.

"He is dead," the old man spoke. "His body, at the very least."

"And what would that mean?" Alastor asked in his usual paranoid fashion.

"I believe his spirit fled; he will be back, but for now we can celebrate."

"But how did it happen?" Remus asked hoarsely. "Bathilda was dead downstairs, and his body is here; as far as we know, only the twins were up here."

"I examined the twins," Dumbledore admitted. "Have either of them ever had their magic tested?"

James shook his head. "We wanted to wait and let it develop on its own. If either of them showed any problems with it we would take them in, but until then we thought it best to let them be."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I checked their cores; Liam's is as strong as it should be for a fifteen-month-old. Harry's, on the other hand, is very weak."

"Could that have something to do with the attack?" James asked anxiously. Dumbledore shook his head in the negative.

"No infant could have caused this," he said grimly. They stood in silence.

"So…did either of the twins…?" Sirius trailed off, uncertain. Dumbledore sighed.

"I also looked at their scars. What with the explosion it was impossible to get any magical residue off of them," when everyone looked disappointed, he continued quickly, "but next to young Harry's head there was a single piece of shrapnel coated in his blood. It was the only projectile to break through the protective charms on the crib. The scar Liam has is known as gebo in the Elder Futhark. It means gift."

"But isn't the scar on Harry's forehead sowilo? Sun?" Remus argued. He didn't even know why he was contradicting the headmaster; he was simply too shocked.

"Were the top line pointing out toward the right on his head, then yes. However, it is pointing toward the left; I pray it was simply a coincidence, and not a sign for the future."

"Are you saying my son will turn?" James asked, face white.

"I do not know what to think, James," Dumbledore said wearily. "But for now…" he grabbed Liam and held him up. "May I present to you Liam Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!"

And later that night, when both boys were in bed with their parents asleep in the same room, Harry opened his eyes to reveal the same unearthly green of the curse that changed his life forever.

The news spread like wildfire. No one listened to the speculations of Albus Dumbledore—they were simply too ecstatic at the apparent defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named to think of his—possibly imminent—return. Liam Potter was hailed as a hero, and very few knew that he had a twin.

Warnings to watch protect their youngest and watch their eldest for signs of darkness ringing in their ears, the Potters moved into Potter Manor, the place James had been avoiding since his parent's deaths. However, the safety of his family was far more important to him than any ghosts of the past—no matter how painful—so they settled in and tried to live as normally as possible.

Not that it was very possible.

Dumbledore…hovered. He claimed it was so that he could keep an extra eye on the twins, in case anything were to come up, and by all means James believed him. Lily did as well, otherwise the old man would have been on the receiving end of some rather nasty curses.

Shortly after the Potter family had moved to their manor, the Longbottoms were attacked. Frank and Alice were tortured to the point of insanity by Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange along with Barty Crouch, Jr. Their son, a day older than the Potter twins (or so it was assumed) was sent to live with his grandmother. The Potters soon lost contact with the remaining Longbottoms.

As the boys grew, it was harder and harder to keep them in the manor. There were occasions when the parents were forced to take them to Diagon Alley and the like, and every time the place was swarming with reporters trying to get a glimpse of the Boy-Who-Lived.

On the twin's third birthday, Dumbledore visited the Potters bearing grim news.

"I have been on the lookout for Voldemort," he explained quietly as the boys played together. "I am not sure where exactly he is, but I have found proof that he is alive."

Lily and James had gone pale. "What can we do?" Lily asked. "I'm not going to allow him to hurt my children again."

"I wish to give Liam an early education in magic," Dumbledore said slowly.

"What about Harry?" James asked immediately. Ever since the attack he and Lily had done their best to make sure the boys received the same privileges and amount of attention.

"I'm afraid that he would prove to be too much of a distraction for Liam," the headmaster replied. "Has he performed any accidental magic?"

"Not that we know of," Lily admitted. "It's always Liam. But he could just be a late bloomer, couldn't he?" Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Not if that core evaluation is anything to go by. He'll never be as powerful as his brother."

"But won't he get jealous?" James asked. "There has to be something else we can do. Besides, I don't want to give up Liam's childhood just because Voldemort wants to kill him."

"We need to start his training as early as possible," Dumbledore argued. "At the age of three he should be able to learn quite a bit about magical control. And Harry would only get in the way."

"But—"

"Don't you want your son to be prepared? Harry will be fine; just focus on helping Liam survive. It's for the good of the wizarding world."

So Liam's training began. Harry, with his insatiable thirst for knowledge, had been quite jealous of his brother. So Lily began to teach him how to read and charmed some books to read to him, so he spent countless hours roaming the Potter library. James would take the boys out flying for some father-son time and they were a more or less normal family. But that was disregarding the Ministry functions.

It was an important political move for the Light side to have the Potters attend these functions, especially with Liam's status. It was also suggested that Harry, as the Potter heir, should attend as well.

However, the family quickly found that three-year-old Harry didn't react well to crowds. They were forced to leave him at home, further estranging him from the already misinformed magic community. The twins' birthday had also turned into a social event, so Harry was left alone in his room while the birthday ball was in session.

This pattern continued, and by the time Harry was five he had been more-or-less worked out of his family's schedule. They still greeted him with enthusiastic hugs when they happened upon each other while walking through the manor, but Harry's discomfort around crowds had only grown in the time he spent alone and he preferred to forego the trips to Diagon Alley and the like. He began to doubt his parents' love for him—both paid so much attention to Liam in the fear that they wouldn't have much time left that they pushed their eldest even farther away than he had pulled. One day, his doubts cemented into certainty and everything changed.

Lily and James were stressed. Liam had been misbehaving that morning and Dumbledore had Floo-called and told them that Voldemort's spirit had moved closer to Britain. On top of that Liam had been having trouble in his lessons which were supposed to help him protect himself against Voldemort.

Harry had come down to dinner, a rare occurrence for the boy who usually took meals in his room. He was proud to say that he could stumble through a book now and the charms his mother had placed on them were becoming less needed. He was also finding it easier and easier to control the random bursts of magic that had been happening—not that his parents knew about them. He had asked many times if he could join Liam's special lessons and each time he had been denied. He decided that he would tell his parents of his newly found power and see if he could join the lessons—then, maybe, he could be loved just as much as Liam.

It was in the middle of the meal and Liam, upset with his tooth being loose despite the promises of a visit from the Tooth Fairy when it came out, threw a fit over some food that was too hard for him to chew. Harry, seeing that his parents were stretched to the breaking point, decided to proceed cautiously.

"Mum? Dad?" he asked quietly. James and Lily jumped, having forgotten that they weren't alone after Liam had gone upstairs.

"Yes, Harry?" James asked, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.

"Can I join Liam's lessons? I can read really well now, and I've been practicing—"

"No!" James snapped. Harry froze, never having heard his father use that tone. "Liam doesn't need you distracting him. You aren't powerful enough and you'll just hold him back!" Tears welled up in Harry's eyes. Lily elbowed her husband and he seemed to realize what he had just said. "Oh, gosh Harry, I'm sorry."

"So I'm just not good enough?" the boy asked, voice shaking.

"No, Harry, I didn't mean that—"

"That's what you said!" he yelled, jumping up from his chair. "That's what you've always thought! Liam's better than I am, isn't he?"

"Harry, sweetheart—"

"No! You never even say goodnight to me anymore! You're always with Liam! Why aren't I good enough?"

Harry ran, sprinting to his room and ignoring the calls from his parents. He sunk down against his wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and allowing a few tears to escape. He just wanted his mum and dad to love him as much as they did his brother. Sirius and Remus were great, but they weren't his parents and they were often busy nowadays.

Bad memories began to float to the surface of his mind—more proof that his parents didn't love him. At least, not as much as his brother.

Whenever they had to take Liam on a trip where there were a lot of people he was allowed to stay behind. A few times, though, they had been unable to find someone to watch him and he was left with Vernon and Petunia Dursley. From what he had been able to gather Petunia was his mother's sister who his mother had lost contact with a while ago. It had been Dumbledore who suggested that the Dursleys would be able to take him for a few days. After much debating, Harry was packed and dropped off with the Dursley family.

The few times he had been sent there had been hell for the child. The only houseroom he had been given was a small space in the cupboard under the stairs. He had been treated like a house elf, learning to cook and clean the muggle way. Any magic was punished—along with any infraction, no matter how small or imagined it was. Vernon enjoyed using him as a punch-bag and taught his wale of a son how to do it too. They never left bruises anywhere visible and Harry, ears ringing with death threats from his uncle, never told anyone.

Harry looked out the window at the quickly darkening sky. He desperately wanted to be able to leave, to go to a place where he would always be loved, and never have to be worried about being sent to a place he would be hurt. A single star twinkled into view. He remembered a rhyme Remus had taught him when he was really little.

"Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have this wish I wish tonight."

He finished the rhyme and closed his vert eyes, wishing for the thing he wanted and believed he could never have. He opened them, shoulders squared in the innocent hope that his wish had been granted. Finding himself still in his room his shoulders dropped in disappointment. He sighed and crawled into bed.

"Goodnight, Harry," he mumbled to himself, curling under the covers as he clutched his black dog plushy to his chest, tears running down his cheeks. In the distance, the single star winked out of sight.


A/N: So yes, I am trying my hand at my own version of the "Harry's twin is the wrong BWL" plot. I know that it has been used ad nauseum, but I want to see if I can put my own twist on it. But first, let me clear up a few things.

While the Potters aren't completely bad in this, neither are they the model parents. Plenty of good people have been corrupted by fame and the stress that comes with it. Liam won't be a badkid, but he will slightly resemble James—the James we know from OotP. This is only normal—often times kids are only as good as they're raised to be. Many manage to break the cycle, but an arrogant-but-well-intentioned Liam will add what I need to the plot.

Likewise, Dumbledore won't be perfect, nor will he be "bad". He means well, but often displays this in a less-than-satisfactory way for most involved. He focuses more on the big picture, the "greater good", as opposed to the individual lives that could be ruined as a result of his schemes. Hagrid was right—he is a good man. But he's a man. He's only human, and human perfection can only be described as imperfection.

Please review, but no flames!