Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it. It is the masterpiece of J.K. Rowling. Everything belongs to her. I do not receive financial gains for my writing, or recognition in anyway.

Rated for language, violence and sexual situations. Please read at your own discretion.

Cracked Glass

A story of second chances and fractured families on the brink of shattering. Can burned bridges be rebuilt or is it better to let the ashes scatter the earth, forever dancing on the edge or our periphery. Reminders of the what was; the what is and the what shall never be.

Part I – The Summer

Chapter 1 – Slytherin

The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: Decide what you want.

Ben Stein

Harry James Potter was not an ordinary boy. Not to imply that there was anything peculiar or odd about him; he was just different from his family; special. He participated in most activities that were considered normal for his age; he played sports, dated girls, attended parties, stayed out past curfew (or he would if he had one) and regularly slept in on weekends. These were all normal activities for any fifteen-soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old; these were not what separated him from his family, not really. The great divide was actually quite simple. Harry was a Slytherin.

For those not educated in the family history of the Potters, it is quite simple: Potters do not get placed in Slytherin. A proud line of Gryffindors, with occasional Ravenclaws and a couple of Hufflepuffs but absolutely no Slytherins in sight for over one-hundred-years, actually in one-hundred-and-thirty-four-years to be exact. Sumner Godfrey Potter had been placed in Slytherin in the year 1857; following his graduation he departed for the continent and was never heard from again. It was rumored he met a beautiful Spanish witch whom he married and departed for the Americas with. (His lovely bride was actually a Russian peasant named Irena and was in fact a muggle. They then departed for Australia together. However gossip is rarely truthful and should be taken with a grain of salt.) The fact remains that Harry was the first Potter to be sorted into the house of snakes in over a century. The fact was that Harry was special, he was different.

In the beginning, this had not bothered Harry, nor had it bothered his parents, not really. He was a bright, intelligent, charming, polite, young man and while his parents were concerned about whom his potential housemates may grow up to be, they had every confidence they had raised their son right. He was after all, the eldest of the Potter children and bore the mantle of responsibility with grace and dignity. An ideal older brother and confidante his dedication to his family and friends was to be admired and commended. For during his childhood, Harry grew comfortable with his role within his family; always on the periphery of peoples' attention for one simple reason; he was the brother of Andrew Evan Potter. Correction, he was the twin brother of Andrew Evan Potter, also known as the boy-who-lived.

This was not to say that Harry was neglected. He was not. Ever. He had a loving and wonderful childhood, full of innocence and joy, love and laughter. Simply put, as the eldest of four children, one of whom was the savior of the wizarding world, Harry had become accustomed to attention being drawn elsewhere. His brother was constantly hounded by the media when the family went out in public, much to his parents chagrin and his sister Julia and brother Benjamin were younger then he and Andy and required more attention. Should he ever require his parents to notice his latest accomplishment, be it Quidditch or school he could always rely on them to freely give their time and focus with love and care. Harry had always been able to rely on his family, or at least he used to be able rely on them.

Perhaps it was the influence of his peers, or perhaps it was prejudices that ran far deeper than any twelve-year-old could comprehend but in his second year of school something changed, something shifted. It started with Andy and a disagreement, but really, what brothers don't on occasion squabble over meaningless, asinine subjects that often bear no merit or credibility in the realm of reality. For twelve year olds often argue about the most idiotic things. In fact, looking back on it, Harry really can't remember what the initial disagreement was about. It doesn't really matter, for that disagreement led to several differences of opinion (which is being polite, for really they were full blown arguments), on Quidditch teams, school subjects, friends, and most importantly the superiority of Gryffindors over Slytherins and vice versa. It was during the first month of second year that the seeds of mistrust were planted and on Halloween the storm that had been cultivating for two months, came to fruition.

It was ugly. Whoever said that "sticks and stones break bones but words shall never hurt" has clearly never witnessed a real argument. Broken bones would have healed with more ease and less pain then the words that were hurled at one another. The details don't matter, at least not at this juncture. The point is that things were said, and feelings were hurt, on both sides. Had generations of mistrust and hatred not existed between Gryffindors and Slytherins, things might have ended differently. Had Harry been allowed to explain his side, just once, he may still have a functional relationship with his parents, with his twin, with his baby brother and sister. But that isn't what happened.

Time moved forward and relationships disintegrated. Harry existed as a ghost to his family for he slowly stopped inviting them into his life; his grades, his friends, and his activities were a mystery to his relatives. To the public they presented the image of a perfectly happy, functional family but as the years went by the smiles became more transparent. Harry eventually stopped pretending altogether and slowly removed himself from family functions and outings. Truthfully, both he and his family were relieved by his absence.

Time has only deepened the divide, the anger and hurt bubbling just below the surface, gaining intensity with time. Electricity crackles in the air, for Harry has had enough. This summer will be different. This summer would change things, permanently. The time for standing still is over, the world is changing, and war has been declared. Sides are being chosen and neutrality is only a pipe dream. The time for standing in the shadows is over; the time for action is now.

Harry sighed deeply as he rested his forehead against the glass window of his train compartment. Fifth year was over and he had finished his OWL examinations a week ago. Now he was headed home for the summer, for three, long months with his family. Most people on the train buzzed with excitement at the prospect of summer. No school was a big selling point but while Harry was glad for a break from his strenuous studies, spending time with his family was not relaxing. In fact he was positive he was developing an ulcer from the sheer notion of three months with nothing but Gryffindors.

"Would you lighten up already, it's not that bad." A mocking voice sounded from across the compartment. Draco Malfoy, one of Harry's good friends was currently engaged in a game of Exploding Snap with Blaise Zabini but had one silver eye pointed in Harry's direction, pale blonde eyebrow raised. Most people would assume that Draco Malfoy would never engage in something as common as a game of Exploding Snap. Most people would be right. However; on occasion, Draco would deign to participate in activities not suited to an heir of the Malfoy line. Few were privileged enough to have this information. Harry happened to know that the Malfoy heir was fond of many things considered to be unfit for a person of his rank and station.

"Shut the fuck up what do you know, your parents adore you. The sun shines out of your freaking ass and you shit rainbows for all your parents care." Harry was not in the mood for his admittedly; smug, holier than thou, narcissistic friend. Emphasis on friend for Draco was a very good friend to Harry; he also happened to be a royal pain in the arse. Something Harry constantly pointed out.

Blaise merely chuckled and proceeded to pull a package of cigarettes out of his jacket's inside pocket, opened the carton and slipped one between his lips. He then retrieved his silver lighter with a serpent engraved on the front, and flipped it open before flicking it to life and lighting the tip of his cigarette with the small flame. Snapping the lighter closed he threw the lighter and cigarettes at Harry's head before taking a long drag. Turning his head to face Draco he blew a perfect smoke ring at the blonde's face.

"Fuck off you twat!" was the indignant blonde's reply. Blaise merely smirked and proceeded to inhale from his cigarette blowing perfect smoke rings into the compartment and occasionally flicking ash into an ashtray he had transfigured from a Chocolate Frog carton.

Harry chuckled but lit his own cigarette after casting a charm on the compartment to stop the detection of smoke. He also made a point of exhaling in Draco's direction, just to piss him off. Pissing Draco off was one of his favorite past times and for many was as advisable as poking a sleeping dragon, however; for a select few, namely himself, Blaise and a couple of others, their childish antics were tolerated by the uptight blonde. Well, tolerated is a generous term, basically Draco didn't hex them with anything too permanent, or painful.

"Would the three of you shut the bloody hell up!" The only girl in the compartment mumbled from beside Harry. She was curled up in the corner of the bench seat, face pressed into the cushions. Harry chuckled but grabbed her legs and pulled them onto his lap so that she could stretch out a little more. She turned her head and smiled briefly at him before turning back into the cushions, closing her eyes and attempting to fall back asleep.

"So what do you plan to do then, to avoid your family? You got any plans that will get you out of the house without causing them to give you the third degree?" Blaise queried, before smirking at his victory over the current hand of cards he and Draco had just played. Draco was scowling at the smoky remains of his own cards, cursing under his breath.

"Yup." Harry replied, popping the word out of his mouth before taking an exceptionally long drag on his cigarette. He could feel the smoke tickling its way down his throat and into his lungs. He held it in for as long as possible, feeling the delicious burn before exhaling, still directing the smoke toward Draco who had now lit his own cigarette.

"Which is…" Blaise prompted as he gathered the cards, shuffled the deck once before putting them away and reached into the brown leather satchel at his feet and pulled out a flask, also engraved with a serpent, anticipating the need for something stronger then tobacco and nicotine.

"The same thing I do every year, get a job. You should try it sometime."

"No need to be glib, just wondering if you had changed your mind about vacationing in Italy with me this summer." Blaise took a healthy swig from his flask before extending it towards Harry.

"I would love too, honestly I would, but there is no way I could convince Lily and James that my spending even more time with Slytherins is a good thing." Harry leaned forward grabbing the proffered flask and took his own swig. Swishing the alcohol in his mouth he allowed the burning liquid to invade his sense of taste, washing over his silver tongue stud before finally swallowing, the Firewhiskey burning down his throat chasing the smoke that had lingered.

"So lie, it's not like you've never lied to them before." Draco piped up, flicking lint off of his shirt that wasn't really there. He had a habit of doing this when he had nothing else for his hands to do. It really bolstered his image as a genuine prat which is exactly why he did it.

"Sorry, but you know it would never work. Not with Dumbledore around this summer." Harry was rubbing at his temples, the onset of a migraine imminent.

"Shit, forgot about that." Blaise muttered, taking another swig from the flask before screwing the lid back on and depositing it back into his bag.

"Glad one of us could. Really it's okay. I don't mind working. I mean, it's no Italy, but it has some redeeming qualities." Yes, definitely a migraine, Harry decided. Not like it was avoidable, his head always hurt these days; if it wasn't Voldemort, it was his family. Sometimes he wondered if it would ever get to be too much and his brain would just eventually liquefy and seep out his ears. Not the most pleasant of imagery but still slightly amusing in a macabre sort of way.

"Which would be…" Draco prompted. Skepticism clearly painted on his face. The idea of work was foreign to the Malfoy heir; sure he would grow up to be a business man, but he would have advisors and assistants. He was just the image, the money, the front man; he would attend meetings and parties, sign documents and donate money in order to gain political sway. He was a smart young man, but he did not possess the astute political shrewdness his father did, a constant point of contention between him and Lucius. He was an excellent manipulator, but business bored him, he would much rather be doing something else, anything else.

Harry didn't reply just tilted his head in the direction of the girl lying on the bench seat beside him, snoring softly and occasionally twitching. A small smile graced his face for a moment before he turned his head to look back out the window of the train that was now pulling into London, just minutes away from Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Sighing, Harry shifted out from under the legs that rested on his lap before standing and stretching. He took a final drag on his cigarette before stubbing the butt out in the ashtray Blaise had transfigured earlier. Casting a couple of charms to remove the smell of smoke from the compartment, he replaced the smoke detection spells he had removed previously, before pocketing his wand. He spared a final look at Draco and Blaise who were regarding him with something akin to sympathy. Only it wasn't actual sympathy because Slytherins aren't sympathetic. Or at least that's what they generally encourage people to believe. For the most part, they succeed in that particular venture. Harry stared at his friends for a moment before turning on his heel and directing one last glance at the still sleeping girl.

"Sometimes I really fucking hate my life." He declared quietly, to no one and everyone, before stalking out of the compartment in search of a restroom.

James and Lily Potter stood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters as they awaited the arrival of the train and with it; their three eldest children. Julia, the only daughter of the Potter clan, had just finished her third year of Hogwarts and had written the night before to regale them with tales of her exams. Julia was in Ravenclaw and took her education very seriously. She couldn't understand why some people were not motivated to learn anything and everything, as she had stressed at length, several times in her letter the evening before. Of course the only thing her father, James had focused on was her repeated mentioning of a boy named Kevin Entwhistle. James was not at all pleased with the idea of his 'Jules' fawning over a boy. Boys were trouble, he should know, he was one after all. Boys only wanted one thing and they sure as hell weren't getting it from his baby girl. Over his cold, dead, body. Lily had merely chuckled before handing him a cup of tea that had a shot of Firewhiskey in it. "She was going to discover boys eventually dear." James had sulked for the rest of the evening.

As the train pulled into view, Lily grabbed a hold of James' hand, squeezing gently. It was always so hard saying goodbye to their children in September. Every June, Lily had to swallow a gasp as she saw her children depart from the train. Older and wiser, with a swagger of independence in their step, Lily always felt her heart break a little as her children were returned to her, closer to adulthood and further away from her. She was overjoyed that they were thriving on their own, but sad that they needed her less and less every time they stepped off of that train.

It wasn't as if she never saw her children during the school year. Andy and Julia returned home every Christmas and Easter and would meet their parents for drinks in the Three Broomsticks once a term on a Hogsmeade trip. So the passage of time while still significant wasn't nearly as shocking. It was always Harry that startled her. He left in September and returned in June with no contact during the interim. He only came home during the summer and Lily was positive that if given the option, he would elect to remain at Hogwarts year round. It broke her heart, but every time she saw him, she never knew what to say. James had a habit of saying too much, most of it in the form of shouting which Harry always returned in kind. Her eldest son was a stranger to her and she had no clue how to change it. Talking didn't work; they weren't able to have a conversation that didn't devolve into screaming matches, so they tolerated one another's presence. Living in silence with as little contact as possible; waiting for September to reappear so that they could stop the charade for another nine months.

James tugged her hand gently; nudging her shoulder with his in the direction of the train which had appeared during her time lost in her thoughts. On the platform walking towards them laughing with her friends, was Julia, hauling her trunk behind her. Upon spotting her parents she waved goodbye to the group of giggly girls before picking up her pace and arriving in front of them, throwing herself into her father's arms as she proceeded to hug him as if she hadn't seen him in years. She truly was a 'Daddy's Girl' to James' constant delight.

"Hi Daddy! Mum, how are you? Term was amazing and so difficult it really challenged me to be a better student and focus my efforts on effective time management in order to truly utilize all of the resources available to me. I even got to remove a book from the Restricted Section of the Library for a paper on the adverse effects of undiluted Acromantula venom in dialysis potions when improperly prepared. Isn't that fascinating, I hope Healers pay attention when learning to brew those potions, I would hate to end up with my kidneys dissolving because my Healer didn't do something as basic as diluting the venom prop- why are you laughing Daddy?" Julia had managed to rush this out using only one breath, the girl was quite capable of talking your ear off, if given half the chance. She then removed herself from the hug and took a step back; hands on her hips, head cocked to the side with an eyebrow raised; in a portrayal of her mother that was so accurate, James couldn't help himself from glancing over to Lily, catching her eye and winking.

"Just missed your mile a minute chatter is all, the house gets very quiet without you." James replied chuckling softly as he grinned down at her before reaching a hand onto her head and mussing her hair affectionately.

Julia grinned back at him, before hugging each of her parents once more. Lily was using her daughter's preoccupation with her father to drink in the girl's appearance fully. The passage of time evident in her height but not much else; Julia was a bit of a late bloomer, something James was grateful for. If genetics were any indication, Julia was going to be gorgeous when she grew into herself. For now though, she was very gangly in appearance, all colt like with long legs and not much else. She was tall for her age at 5'8, already two inches taller than her mother, with curly, shoulder-length, dark auburn hair and light blue eyes. She had absolutely no chest or hips, so to speak, and was all angles, with bony elbows and knobby knees. Her face was very pleasant, heart shaped and clear of blemishes. She had a few freckles dotting her nose and cheeks but they were fading as she grew older so that one had to stand quite close to her in order to notice them. Her smile was large and genuine with a small dimple gracing her lower left cheek. She looked the same and yet different from the last time her parents had seen her and Lily felt her heart pang at the thought that one day Julia would step off of that train a woman and she will have missed it.

"Where's your brother, dear?" Lily asked, scanning the platform in search of her son.

"How should I know, it's not cool to hang out with your little sister. He only hangs out with me at school if he needs help studying for something." Julia replied, setting her trunk down before sitting on it, her mile long legs stretched out in front of her as she inspected her nails, preparing herself for what could be a long wait if Andy happened to be saying goodbye to one of his groupies.

James chuckled before leaning over to nudge his wife and pointing ahead of them at what Lily recognized to be their son Andy, surrounded by a group of his peers, head thrown back with laughter.

"Andy!" James shouted, in an effort to attract the boy's attention towards his family. Andy lifted his head, nodding at his father with a small smile before returning his attentions to his friends.

"Remind you of anyone?" Lily smiled up at her husband, leaning her head against his shoulder. James chuckled a bit before smirking down at his wife, mischief dancing in his hazel eyes. He waggled his eyebrows dramatically a couple of times before leaning down for a chaste kiss with the woman he loved.

"I like to think I turned out alright." He said, his mouth still against Lily's, forehead resting against hers as he kissed her quickly once more before pulling away to watch his son amble towards them leisurely. Andy certainly was reminiscent of his father in mannerisms and ego but physically he took after his mother's side of the family. Slightly stockier then most Potter men, Andy currently stood at 5'9 but Lily was certain he had one more growth spurt in him. He had broad shoulders but had yet to fully grow into his frame. This probably would have made him look far more awkward were it not for years of Quidditch which had resulted in spectacular muscle tone. He possessed dirty blonde hair, same as his maternal grandfather, which was wavy, not messy like most Potter men. His jaw was square and he had high cheekbones. He had a long nose with the tip turned up slightly and like his sister Julia; possessed a few light freckles, scattered across his cheeks and nose, but they had mostly faded with the passage of his youth. Now his freckles mostly reappeared in the summer; after long days spent in the sun. The one feature he had that was identical to that of his father, were his eyes; both in shape and color, however; Andy did not require glasses to his great delight. The final defining feature that graced Andy's face was the scar. A lightning bolt shaped scar over his right eyebrow, same as his brother Harry. The only feature the two of them shared that was identical. Lily hated the very sight of it on both of them. A constant reminder of how close she had been to losing the two of them forever.

"Mum!" Andy cried out, pulling his mother into a fierce hug, kissing her cheek before releasing her to give his father a quick hug with a firm pat on the back before pulling away. While he had outgrown his dislike towards hugging his parents, particularly his father in public (it just wasn't cool, he had maintained), he still kept the hugs short and for greetings or departures only.

"How was your term?" Lily enquired, noting the dark circles under his eyes and slightly haggard appearance of his stance. His shoulders sagging ever so slightly and his hair was uncharacteristically messy, as if he hadn't taken the time to style it. Andy was quite proud of his hair and it normally fell into his face in soft waves, reminiscent of a California surfer. Lily had seen them in a magazine once while at her parent's house for tea but wasn't sure if Andy styled it like that on purpose or if it was merely coincidental.

"Brutal. OWLs were insane; I would like to sleep until September if that's an option. I can't believe I have to do that again in two years. How badly do you want me to do my NEWTs anyway? I mean I'll be seventeen so it's not like…" Andy trailed off and didn't finish his sentence due to the heated glare both his mother and father were sending him. Julia snickered from below, still lounging on her trunk.

"You're doing your NEWTs," James replied, a touch of steel laced his voice, warning Andy not to push his luck.

"Worth a shot," Andy muttered softly, more to himself than anyone else before shooting a grin at his Dad.

"Well, enjoy your summer kid, cause three months from now it will be back to the grindstone. Sixth year is brutal so enjoy your freedom while it lasts." James smirked, clapping Andy on the shoulder and squeezing lightly.

"Oh, ha, bloody, ha."

"Language," Lily warned, not really upset but there was a precedent to be maintained. She had already removed her eyes from the scene so she only heard Andy mutter his apology. She was searching for her most elusive child, Harry. He was always the last one to return to her. She couldn't prove it but she knew he did this on purpose; prolonging the inevitable for as long as possible. Lily didn't know which was worse; the fact that Harry avoided his family up to the last possible second, or the unease which settled upon the family the moment Harry was anywhere within sight.

"Where the bloody hell is he?" James muttered in her ear. Biting her tongue, she refrained from reprimanding him on using the same language she had just scolded Andy for using mere moments ago. Honestly, how could she expect her children to avoid profanity if their father insisted on cursing every time he was upset.

"He'll be here, he just takes his time. You know that, we do this every year." Lily continued to scan the crowd, looking for her husband's look alike. If you didn't know the Potters (and you would have to be Muggles to not know them), you would think Harry and James were the twins, not Harry and Andy. With the exception of the eyes (and the scar, but he hadn't always had that), Harry was the spitting image of James. Every June when she saw him again for the first time in nine months, she could feel herself floating back into the past when another young man with messy black hair and spectacles would stroll towards her. The situations were entirely different though; James would strut, cocky and full of hot air before propositioning her for a date; Harry would practically drag his feet, and while his face gave nothing away; a stone mask he had perfected as a Slytherin; Lily always noticed the tight set of his shoulders, and the curling and uncurling of the fist not occupied with dragging the trolley carrying his trunk.

Finally, the crowd thinned enough that Lily was able to spot him up ahead. Chatting with friends and laughing, completely at ease. She knew the second he spotted them it would stop. He would close himself up and she had no idea how to draw him out, so she drank in the sight of him; happy. James was silent beside her, and she knew that he too was observing Harry interact with his friends; completely uninhibited, no masks, no smirks, no suspicious glances, just Harry saying goodbye to his friends; bracing himself for another summer with his family. Lily wished not for the first time that she was able to make Harry laugh like that; smile like that; that she could be a source of joy and comfort in his life like she once was, before the fallout.

Eventually, Harry turned his head and looked over at his family gathered on the platform; waiting for him to join them so he turned back to his friends muttered his goodbyes and slowly made his way across the platform. Stopping a few feet from his family, he stood feet apart, arms crossed; in what Lily recognized as a defensive stance, masked as defiant. He was tall, taller than he had been last year, taller than Andy as well. Not quite as tall as James, but only a couple of inches off, he stood at what she estimated was 5'11. His black hair was messy, as usual, he and his father forever looked as if they had just spent hours racing brooms at full speed; there was not a comb, brush or gel in the world that could tame that hair, Lily was sure of it. She did note that he had managed to persuade the hair at the front of his head into messy spikes and that a few of the spikes were dyed blue, that was new, or at least new to her; he could have had the blue hair since September 2nd and she would be none the wiser. He was wearing a pair of silver framed aviator sunglasses, a black leather jacket, a black shirt, black jeans and black converse sneakers. So apparently he liked to wear black this year. Lily was sure last year his wardrobe had a bit more color, but then again he so rarely spent time at the house and she was constantly at Headquarters or work that maybe she just imagined it. What she did notice that she knew he definitely did not have last year, aside from the stronger more masculine set of his jaw, or the stubble on his chin (interesting, Andy wasn't shaving with any regularity yet, but it appeared that Harry may have started) was a small piece of silver metal, winking at her in the sunlight from Harry's left eyebrow.

"You pierced your eyebrow?" Lily asked. She wanted to feel angry. She wanted to lecture and scold him for sticking metal through his face but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't want to start the summer with another fight. It wasn't worth it. It never was.

"Yeah, awhile back." Harry answered. No remorse, no shame or guilt and no explanations, just straight and to the point. Well, at least he's not trying to deny or hide anything. Not that he could, given the proof is on his face.

"Any other recent additions to your body we should know about. You look ridiculous by the way." James was his usual antagonistic self. Well, so much for the no fighting; Harry could only take so many taunts and barbs before he returned in kind and he was ruthless when he did decide to retaliate.

"None you want to know about," Harry raised his eyebrow, smirking. The sunglasses prevented them from seeing what Lily was sure was a positively dangerous gleam he managed to get whenever sparring verbally with his father. If it weren't for the occasional flickers of remorse and pain that his eyes would betray when particularly cruel words were hurled, Lily would be positively convinced that Harry hated her and James. The flickers are what allowed her to keep breathing when James and Harry decided to raise the decibel level.

Lily placed a small hand on James' bicep, gazing up at him. "Please, not today, can we just not fight for one day." Turning her head she focused on Harry who was already prepared for another yelling match, shoulders hunched slightly forward, brow furrowed, lip twitching in what could very easily become a snarl. "Please, Harry, can you both just get along for one day."

Harry appeared to consider the request before nodding his head once. "Alright, no fighting, I promise." He waited a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly weary, "Sorry."

"Thank you." Lily was relieved, it was the best she could ask for and she knew the peace wouldn't last but it was better than an evening filled with shouting. James merely nodded his compliance to her request; she knew that he didn't trust himself to talk. His brain always jumped to conclusions regarding Harry, and the filter on his mouth didn't stop any of his suspicions from leaking out. This is what caused a great deal of the tension between her husband and son. Not that Harry was blameless, but James generally lost his temper first, usually if James managed to calm down, Harry would retract his claws.

"Where's Ben?" Julia finally spoke up, she was still seated on her trunk, legs stretched out but her fists were clenched so tight the knuckles had turned white. She had never been able to tolerate the unease that settled over her family whenever Harry decided to provoke their parents with another of his rebellions. Although, and she would never admit this aloud; especially to her father for he would probably lock her in a tower until she was thirty; the pierced eyebrow was kind of badass, if he wasn't her brother she would probably find it a little thrilling, possibly even sexy.

"He's with Sirius. They're having a boy's day out, although I think Hestia may have tagged along so who knows what they may have ended up doing. I think Remus and Tonks may join them as well. They're all meeting us at your grandparents' house for dinner." Lily replied, glad for a change of subject. "We're staying there tonight as renovations are still being done at home." 'Renovations' was code for having more protections spells and wards erected on their cottage in Godric's Hollow.

"We should get going," James interjected, helping Julia to her feet and grabbing the handle of her trunk before leading the way towards the barrier into the Muggle side of King's Cross. "Mum is expecting us in time for afternoon tea and I want to catch the end score of the Appleby and Montrose game on the wireless." Julia smiled before falling into step behind her father, followed by Andy and Lily and finally at the rear was Harry; a good ten feet behind and looking in no way like he had any intention of closing the distance. Lily paused for a moment, waiting for Harry to catch up, but when she stopped walking so did he. Lily sighed, adjusted her purse on her shoulder and continued forward, noting that now that she had begun walking again, so had Harry. She felt as if she were attempting to gain the trust of a unicorn fowl. Skittish at the best of times, one sudden movement or loud noise and all progress was lost. But Lily was nothing but determined, this summer she was going to wiggle her way back into Harry's life; whether he liked it or not.

Dinner passed with minimal grief. Harry got along well enough with his paternal grandparents; they mostly left him alone so he simply returned the favor. He was able to sit quietly at the table, eating his food with little disruption. Conversations carried on around him but had neither the energy nor inclination to join in. The sooner he finished his dinner the sooner he could retire to his room for the evening. The migraine he had acquired earlier in the day had not receded; he hadn't expected it too. Still, it would have helped the evening move along at a more agreeable pace if his head hadn't insisted on throbbing uncontrollably.

"Everything alright, Harry?" A soft and gentle voice to Harry's left enquired. Turning, Harry saw the concerned features of Hestia Jones, Sirius'…girlfriend? Harry wasn't actually sure what their relationship was anymore, his own relationship with Sirius was no better than his relationship with his father so he wasn't actually privy to the details of Sirius' personal life. He knew that Sirius and Hestia had been together for ten years now, dating or whatever it was they did. They were happy so whatever their relationship was it worked for them.

Despite the deterioration of his relationship with Sirius, Harry got along well enough with Hestia. She was a kind, soft-spoken, observant woman who always took the time to enquire after Harry's well-being. Not only did she ask after him, she actually listened to what he had to say.

"Just a migraine, it'll pass." Harry winked at her reassuringly, before taking a sip of his wine; one of the benefits of being considered one of the older kids. Booze at dinner certainly helped the evening go by faster, especially with his family.

"Are you sure? You look kinda pale."

"Positive, I'll just go to bed after dinner. I probably just need sleep. OWLs were exhausting." Harry smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and not a pained grimace before turning back to his plate to further pick at his food. He never had an appetite when he had a migraine. His dinner was a lost cause; there was no way he was ever going to finish.

Quietly excusing himself from the table, Harry retreated to the South wing of the Manor, where his bedroom (when he did stay here) was located. He had chosen the room years ago, shortly after turning eight, when he and Andy had decided they wanted their own rooms. This was before he and Andy had started hating each other so the move to separate bedrooms was due to greatly sought after independence. They were also both jealous over the attention their new baby brother Ben was gaining from their parents and they thought that doing something drastic like moving into separate bedrooms would garner some attention. For the record, it didn't work. Harry and Andy weren't used to spending time apart, having always shared a bedroom in the past; so even though Harry moved all of his belongings (the ones kept permanently at Grandma and Grandpa Potter's house) into his new bedroom, he still slept in the room he and Andy had always shared. No one even knew that Harry had moved into the rarely used bedroom on the third floor of the South wing until after their first year of Hogwarts when the two boys who were now accustomed to sleeping apart, insisted on separate rooms. That was also the summer that Harry had moved out of the bedroom he and Andy had shared since birth in their house at Godric's Hollow and into the little attic.

Closing and locking the door behind him, Harry padded across the plush carpeting to his bed before flopping down on his stomach. He was never moving again, ever. Everything hurt. It hurt to move, and it hurt to think; it just plain hurt. The pain in his head was so overwhelming Harry was actually nauseous. Reaching into the nightstand drawer, Harry retrieved a Headache Relief Potion. Eyeballing the remaining liquid which had expired, Harry desperately attempted to recall Potions class and the effects of ingesting expired medicinal potions. Quickly scanning the list of ingredients on the back, Harry recognized nothing harmful so he quickly shot back the remaining liquid, grimacing at the foul taste. Since one of the adverse effects he could experience from expired potions was hallucinations, Harry busied himself in preparing for bed while he was still reasonably lucid. He trudged over to his private bathroom where he proceeded to relieve himself, brush his teeth and remove his contacts (a huge shock to his parents) before blindly making his way back to bed. Toeing off his shoes Harry flopped onto the bed not bothering to remove his clothing. He knew he should remove his jeans, he'd feel like crap in the morning for sleeping in them, but he felt like crap now so what did it really matter. Staring up at the ceiling, Harry waited for the calming drowsiness of sleep to steal him away into what was hopefully a dreamless respite from everyday life.

Five years ago…

"Potter, Andrew." McGonagall called from her scroll and Andy reached over and squeezed Harry's hand briefly before walking up to the stool and sitting down. The Sorting Hat slid over his head, covering his eyes, as the entire congregation of students and teachers watched in silence. The boy-who-lived was about to be sorted.

Time seemed to stand still for Harry, as he watched, with bated breath as the Sorting Hat opened it mouth and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Andy jumped off of the stool, grinning like mad, as the hall cheered. The loudest cheer so far, the Gryffindor table had gone absolutely mad, the Weasley twins yelling, 'We got Potter! We got Potter!' Harry grinned, as Andy made his way over, being pulled into hugs, and handshakes, firm pats on the back nearly knocking the eleven-year-old over as he finally found a place to sit down, next to the Granger girl and the Weasley twins. They'd known the Weasleys their entire lives, Fred and George were hilarious, and Harry simply couldn't wait to be sorted so he could join them in celebrating. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Harry returned his attention to Professor McGonagall who was waiting for the excitement to die down a little so that the Sorting could continue.

"Potter, Harry." McGonagall finally called out and Harry made his way up to the front to sit on the stool, the Sorting Hat placed over his head before sliding down and covering his eyes. The world had gone dark.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Not like your brother at all are you? Plenty of courage, I see. How very Potter of you. Not a bad mind either, you get that from your Mother. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes –and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, 'In Gryffindor, with Andy, like my family, I belong in Gryffindor.'

The small voice crept back into his ear, "Are you sure? You'll only ever be 'Andy's brother' in Gryffindor. Brother of the boy-who-lived, son of Lily and James. Is that what you want? Your past will follow you no matter where you go but you can decide now if it will define you. You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that –so what will it be? Will you take the road less travelled? Do you want to live your life in the shadow of others, or do you want to be great? It's your choice, Harry. It's your future. What will it be?"

Harry paused, absorbing the words, letting them sink in. What did he want, it seemed so simple and yet never before had he been so confused. He took a deep breath, 'I want to be great.'

"SLYTHERIN!"

AN: Please Review! No flames, but constructive criticism is welcome. I am aware my grammar is not the greatest (I have slight infatuation with semi-colons and commas, I'm working on it).

This is not a typical; Harry is in Slytherin, his twin is the boy-who-lived, and his parents are alive story. This is about the reconstruction of relationships within a family. I want to explore the idea that when a family falls apart everyone plays a part and that putting the pieces back together takes time and sometimes you can't fix what you broke but maybe you can make something new.

I realize that this chapter leaves a lot of questions unanswered about; how Andy is the boy-who-lived, why the grandparents are still alive, why Harry and Andy share the scar, etc. I intend to write the answers in using flashbacks and memories. So it will be answered you just may have to wait awhile, please be patient. If you're really confused about something, let me know and I'll try to clarify. I ask that you be patient though since there is a method to my madness.

I did reference the scene with the Sorting Hat in the first book (American Version, my British copy has sprouted legs and wandered off) so while I did re-write it, obviously, a good chunk of it is J.K. Rowling. As is everything else since Harry Potter belongs to her!

Also, does anybody have any ideas about who the girl on the train was? I'd be happy to hear who people want her to be, not that it will change anything.

Happy 2011 to everyone and I hope the New Year has been treating you all well so far!

~ Darcy