AN: Sorry for the long wait. I can be a bit stubborn, which means I won't post something if I'm not completely happy with it. Or, in this chapter's case, if I've tried to make it how I wanted but it was taking too long and I took pity on you guys. It's a little longer, though, 6 100 words! That's enough to keep the mobs at bay, right? *glances back and forth nervously, with a fake-looking smile*
Chapter originally posted Nov 15, 2014
Chapter 2 – The Three Fates
Harry could swear that his vision was sharper, his hearing clearer, and his instinct sharper; such was the adrenaline running through his veins. It was as though all of his senses had been boosted to the top of their ability, like some all-knowing predator.
So when he heard the crunch of grass as something large approached, his head snapped towards the sound to witness a black something poke its head out from under a bush. Its eyes were grey, looking like copies of the moon in the streetlamp light. He smoothly pulled out his wand, in case the thing were to attack (under-age wizards could use magic in self-defence), and took a curious, but confident, step forward.
The thing stood still – in fact, perhaps it had shrunk away a bit. Noting that it wasn't going to attack, then, he was about to relax the grip on his wand when – BANG – a great triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere.
Jumping back, he stumbled on the curb but managed not to fall. He quickly made himself look presentable, so that when the wizard, Stan Shunpike, came off the bus the speckled teen didn't notice a thing.
"Aye, welcome to the Knight Bus." He continued to state the fare and other fancy words that had obviously been rehearsed thoroughly.
Paying the boy for the regular fare, with no additives, Harry picked up his trunk. He really ought to put a lightweight charm on it, Harry thought. Hauling it around like this was not something that many wizards did.
"Why're you out 'ere, in the middle of a muggle neighbour'ood, then? Strange. I 'adn't thought that wizards lived in this part."
Slightly annoyed at the man's intruding question, he replied, "I didn't ask where you go or what you do on your days off, Stan. Maybe you should follow my lead?" He shoved Hedwig's empty cage into the boy's hands (she was off hunting again).
"Well, that's no fun then, innit'. Pick a seat, then; anywhere you like," the teen frowned, supposedly wondering why Harry was so quick to snap at him.
Honestly, it was probably because of Aunt Marge … and the fact that he couldn't investigate the creature further without either stalling the bus, or waving it off and then attempting to call it a minute later. Because the fact that such a means of transportation existed was lucky for him, really. If it hadn't shown up, he would have either walked or gone on his broom, covering himself in his brother's cloak, which he had packed; the only things Christopher used it for was a shame to the potential of the cloak. Also, because Christopher wouldn't be able to use it here … Vernon and Petunia would confiscate it no matter which twin it was from if they realised that a magical device was being used. They really were that paranoid of magic. So, in that regard, he was safe of Christopher knowing that he had the thing at all.
He did a quick investigative search of the bus with his eyes before choosing a seat a few rows from the front and sitting down with his things on the ratty old beds that shifted with the movement of the bus.
The vehicle jerked and they were in a completely different place. It looked to be some rolling green hills with puffy light grey clouds that tried to block out the stars. It was a sickly-looking woman who had help from Stan before the teen himself asked Harry where he was headed.
Having already thought about his plans, Harry merely muttered to the boy, "Diagon Alley," making sure to position his features to imply that no more questions were to be asked.
The teen ignored it, and instead probed, "You do look a lot like that Christopher Potter, though, 'innit? You know, the Boy-'oo-Lived? 'Choo don' 'ave the scar, though …"
Really, it wasn't as though Harry wanted to estrange the boy, but some people just couldn't take the hint – despite earlier instances.
"No, my twin is still being the pretty-boy that everyone loves, isn't he? Not that anyone ever remembers that he has a brother …"
Appalled at the implication, Stan Shunpike could barely even blink before the driver, Ernie, asked to clarify where Harry was going. Answering with a bright "Diagon Alley!" and a smile to the older, non-intrusive man, Harry made sure his things were together as they jumped to the middle of London, weaving their way through cars. Of course, the muggles couldn't see the bus because of the enchantments, such was obvious, and it barely took a minute before they were in front of The Leaky Cauldron.
Stan appeared to be in auto-pilot such was his shock, but that only served to make Harry a bit happier. Helping Harry with his trunk, the boy thanked him with the standard goodbye and hopped back on the bus for it to disappear seconds later.
"If it had been Christopher – oh boy! – that would have been the death of me … at least he has the sense to behave, that one … of course, he is a bright lad, so I've been told, so it's no surprise …"
Hearing the Minister of Magic's words, Harry quickly used his grown-out hair to cover his face as best he could. Christopher, unlike him, had cut his hair short – preferring to spike it up, the better to show off his scar. He shrunk into the shadows, knowing that it would be much harder to be noticed let alone recognised. It wouldn't be good to be seen by the Minister, of all people.
"Probably did it for attention – jealousy at its work, no doubt. Hard not to be jealous of someone like Christopher, of course. Can't imagine that a lot of people wouldn't be nagging at themselves to be just like him."
It was as though the Minister was trying to convince himself of the fact – as if he could barely believe it himself. Well, with the amount of wizards nearby, the Trace wouldn't be able to work (adults being around Trace carriers deadened the effect – the ministry wouldn't be able to tell if the magic came from the adult or child). So why not relieve Fudge of that doubt?
He sent a whispered Confundo towards the portly man and watched as he blinked, once, twice before resuming his muttering; this time much more polite, however: "Wonder where he's got to … shouldn't be out and about now that Black's out from Azkaban …"
Satisfied with his work, Harry shrunk his trunk with a tap from his wand, stuffed it carefully in his pocket, and entered the Leaky Cauldron. He loitered around a couple of tables to see if gossip travelled as fast as he feared, and that they were somehow discussing him (which they weren't – it wasn't as if they were aware that The-Boy-Who-is-Hippogriff-Dung had a twin) before asking for one of the cheaper rooms to stay in for the rest of the summer. Happy that he had a relatively long-term customer, Tom, the bartender, even gave Harry a discount for any meals that he ate there.
Walking up to Room 5, Harry glanced through one of the open doorways a couple of doors down from his own. There was a young maid sprucing up the place after the last resident. She dusted, cleaned, and polished the surfaces using a couple of simple spells before flicking her wand towards the bed where the pillows fluffed and the covers tucked in. She replaced old towels and things with several murmured Accios and Banishment Charms. She looked like she was done and as she started to turn towards the door Harry was already gone.
Really, those spells were simple enough … if his room wasn't up to par, he could always use those spells himself. And, upon entering his room … he immediately set to work mimicking the witch he had spied upon.
He added locking spells to the door, as well a couple of simple privacy wards that he had had the chance of stumbling upon while he was reading last year. He also set an alarm charm that would wake him with some of his favourite music at an appropriate time in the morning. He then unshrunk his trunk, got dressed in some wizardly-looking pajamas and organised his things in his trunk before heading in for an early night.
Harry woke up according to his alarm's music. He got up, dressed, refreshed himself, and took down the privacy charms that he had placed. He did, however, leave the locking charm so that there wouldn't be any chance of theft. It didn't matter that the maid couldn't enter the room, as there wasn't much that the maid could do that he wouldn't be able to.
By the time he had made it down to the main pub, it was 7 am and the only people here were the perky morning staff as well as a few businessmen and the like, eager to start their day with some breakfast, or simply walking briskly on through.
Harry ordered some French toast with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. He also asked for a glass of chocolate milk, and chocolate sauce to drizzle onto the toast.
While he was waiting, he grabbed this morning's Daily Prophet from an adjacent table and read about the escape of the Prisoner of Azkaban, a pureblood of the surname "Black". So many people had died … he had a moment of introspection thinking about the victims, looking up to see the waitress bring his breakfast. He spread the whipped cream across the French toast, chopped up his strawberries, drowned it in chocolate sauce and ate it. It was a meal that he hadn't had in a long time, one that he hadn't had the misfortune of associating with bad memories. And it tasted so, so good. Between each bite, he read a bit more of Black's story, slowly gathering information about the convict. Harry had just about forgotten about his food. Forcing himself to finish the last forkful, he nursed the straw of his chocolate milk and summarised his finds: a crazy Death Eater, insanely difficult to duel against, and was apparently rather popular while at Hogwarts – among other things.
Harry was broken out of his reverie by the maid who came to take his dishes away. He went back to his room and grabbed his money pouch, placing a few anti-theft charms on it before heading back out to buy his things for his third year.
Thankfully, not too many people were out so early in the day (witches and wizards tended to get lazy), so no one confused him for his brother – or at least, didn't confront him about it. And on that train of thought … he really ought to learn how to learn how to change his appearance with magic or potions. Nothing too drastic, but something that would set him and his brother apart.
At Flourish & Blotts, there was a great cage containing the same book that Hagrid had sent him. The books inside were quick to destroy and attack each other, Harry was amazed that so many were even left by this show of viciousness. He made sure no one was watching and then cast a spell that had ropes exiting the tip of his wand and wrapping around each individual book, ensuring that they would no longer continue their bloodthirsty fight. That would certainly end the headache the store owner surely had. Deciding to make his shopping a quick affair, Harry purchased the following (he decided that he would buy the ones that caught his eye later, as books got quite heavy):
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3), by Miranda Goshawk
Intermediate Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch
The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts, by Arsenius Jigger
Numerology and Grammatica, by Pythagoras Vane
Ancient Runes Made Easy, by Laurenzoo
He also restocked his potion ingredients, asking the man for third-year level products. He figured that he would place ever-fresh charms on the entire thing once he was in his room. Waste was such a stupid thing.
Harry ate a hearty tomato-based vegetable and barley soup as well as rice with a grilled chicken breast for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron before dragging his purchases upstairs and casting feather-weight and the aforementioned ever-fresh charms on them. He stored them neatly in his trunk, before resting on his bed and poking through his new course books for a half-hour. Despite what some people thought, shopping was tiring.
At two o'clock, Harry headed back out into the Alley so he could buy his school robes. The ones he had now were short and showed too much ankle for his liking. He walked into Madam Malkin's, and saw that both the witches who sized robes were busy. He sat in one of the armchairs and picked up a style magazine. He noted a couple different articles of clothing you could buy, as well as a little square of text that said something about charms to automatically fit clothing to the wearer as they grew, within a certain limit.
Madam Malkin finished with the older witch she had been measuring and called Harry over. She asked what Harry wanted.
"Well, I'll need new Hogwarts robes as well as a new outdoor cloak – but whatever material the old one was made of didn't seem like enough, I was always cold … especially 'round Christmas in the dungeons."
She fitted the new material on him, and when she made the heavier cloak she used a fabric with a thicker lining, as requested.
"Anything else, my dear?"
"Yes, I was looking in your magazine and was wondering if you could make me a new pair of Dragon-hide gloves? My old ones are rather small. And some good socks would be appreciated."
She smiled at him and brought him over to some racks where he could try on some gloves as well pick out a pair of socks that he would like.
"Is there anything else that you saw in my magazine, dear, or are you done?" she said, with a twinkle in her eye and crow's feet adorning the corners, which appeared to be something not often seen.
"Actually, yes – there was a bit about adding charms that sized the material as you grew? Do you think you could do that for me?
She chuckled. "Why, that is something that used to be very common … I suppose people just forgot about it. Usually, I add a Sickle or two for it, but because you've been so nice, I'll let you have it free. Deal?"
He tried to bargain with her, saying that he could pay for it fine, but she wouldn't have it. She brought him and his purchases to the store counter and placed the charm on all of his things before asking him for his payment.
He let his eyes linger while waiting for her to finish with the transaction, and saw a donation jar to St. Mungo's. He quietly slipped two Sickles inside and was ready for the bag of clothes that she had made up before the woman had even put the sale record in her ledger.
Harry proceeded to walk out the door with his things and was long gone before the woman saw the extra Sickles in the donation jar.
"He's a good boy, he is … if only there were more of them in this world." Madam Malkin's calculating eye turned towards where Gregory Goyle and his overweight mother had walked in the door.
In the next couple of weeks, time passed in the same manner for Harry. He would shop by day and read by night. He had bought more supplies for school, including ink and quills, parchment and a new set of potion knives and stir sticks. He had also visited a store full of magical gadgets like telescopes and things to buy equipment for Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes. The man behind the counter had recommended the strange objects, and although neither were on his equipment list, he had purchased them. One was bronze-coloured and strangely heavy while the other was sleek-looking silver. Harry had also looked at the Firebolt, a new international-standard broom that had arrived at Quality Quidditch Supplies. From what he could tell, it was one expensive broom – the fact that the price wasn't displayed, and was only available upon request, spoke for that fact alone.
On the very last day of August, Harry was preparing to leave for school. He stored his many possessions in his trunk neatly and orderly. It made things made easier when he was in a rush to be able to grab whatever he needed with barely a glance, rather than have to sit down and rummage through the entire thing. Books went on the left; stacked with the ones he had already started reading on top. His clothing went on the right; his heavier clothes near the bottom and the things he would need immediately on top. His shoes, telescope, cauldron, and various other odds and ends (including the Arithmancy gadgets) were in between. His broom was across the length of the entire trunk overtop of everything. His invisibility cloak and wand were tucked away on his person.
He figured that he would simply take the Knight Bus to King's Cross – it wasn't as though he had many other options in that regard. Muggle taxis were slow and could be very costly, and he wasn't sure if there were fireplaces hooked up to the floo system at King's Cross. Also, he was both too young and had little to no experience apparating.
He had everything lined up at the foot of his bed, ready to be hauled off first thing the next morning.
Deciding to enjoy his last day of freedom, Harry walked outside and went to Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor. Near every day since taking residence in Diagon alley he had come to sample the different flavours that the man offered. He had tried outrageous flavours such as Floo Powder (much better than it sounded), Unicorn's Horn, Pumpkin Pie, Vampire Blood, and Griffin Claw. There were even flavours for the four different houses of Hogwarts, respectively.
In the mood for a more mundane flavour today, Harry merely ordered a mint-chocolate chip double-scoop cone. After all, today was going to be the final day of relaxation before it was time to get the flow of learning juices going, and the wizarding flavours were a bit too flamboyant to be in agreement with his day's plans (or lack thereof).
As he sat down at one of the tables to do a little people-watching, Harry noticed two people join up with a third. The two had almost finished their cones and the other looked as though he was deciding if he should buy one as well. The boy nodded to himself decisively and led their group to stand in the long queue for his own ice cream.
Of course, Harry knew just who exactly those three people were – and they spoiled his day just being in his sight. It was Christopher and his most loyal followers Weasley and Granger. Harry got up and walked aimlessly through the crowds, easily taking control of his sudden spike of hatred towards his brother and calming himself enough to enter a small but comfortable Seer's shop, on a whim. He didn't put much stock by Divination, hence not taking the class, but he idly thought that perhaps such bogus-ness would set the quiet mood for the rest of the day.
He looked at the different things available on the shelves. He noticed a sign above a door that mentioned the services of the owner herself to tell the future for any individual. Taking a glance at the sign that read "Unoccupied, please come in," he pushed passed the heavy velvet curtain that functioned as a door and entered on a whim to perhaps have the witch tell him how horrible his life would be and that he would die a truly gruesome death.
The room inside was dark and slightly cramped – it was almost reminiscent of the old cupboard he had lived in for many a year. The woman was seated behind a table that had many different methods of reading the future laid out on a thick maroon tablecloth. There were tarot cards, a book on palmistry, a crystal ball centred on the table, tea and mugs for tea-leaf reading, and another method that he couldn't quite place what it was but couldn't care to know. He supposed it looked somewhat similar to the game of Yut, but it was so completely different that it couldn't be.
The woman looked up and smiled mysteriously at him. She beckoned him with a lazy hand to sit down.
"My name is Cassarah Trelawney. Now, what method are we looking into today?"
"Nothing in particular. Whichever you feel would be the most accurate, have the best results." He waved flippantly.
"Well, in that case, I feel that palmistry is always best to start. Allows me to get a feel for the person." She continued to examine all of the creases and lines of his right hand, running her finger across it and muttering to herself.
"This is a good Life Line … splits a bit here … almost chained at the beginning … and you have a long Head Line, that's good … straight, and has lines coming upwards from it … your Heart Line starts below your middle finger, but it continues onto the side of your hand … it's rather deep, chained too. Your Fate Line is shallow and broken, but it runs from your Heart Line to the very bottom corner of your palm. You have a very interesting palm; hard to read." She allowed him to remove his hand from her grasp.
"Well, I feel the best would be to go straight to Tarot Cards. In this case, they would be the most accurate." She unearthed a basket full of different styles of decks. Offering Harry his choice, he picked one by the name of "Phoenix Tarot". It had vibrant colours and was written in another language.
"Let's go for the method of Three Fates, shall we? It reveals the past, present and future."
She shuffled the deck and allowed Harry to draw three cards, placing them on the table with the back side up. When she flipped them over, the third card was upside-down, but she did not right it. As she spoke, her voice transformed into a storyteller who was setting the stage of a wonderful tale. It sounded like wonder and mystery, all in a soft caress.
"The left card represents an important element of the past. You have the High Priestess: a pure, exalted and gracious influence. She represents education, knowledge, wisdom, and esoteric teachings, the forces of nature, intuition, and foresight.
"The middle card represents a deciding element of the present. You have the Page of Wands: the essence of fire behaving as earth, such as wood or coal; the surprising appearance of a new passion. An adventurer who blazes through life, acting as a catalyst that others may harness. The intense enthusiasm that fuels any new venture, needing only the application of mind and material to make it a success. Inner fire that can drive away fear and replace it with fury. It can represent a person of some timidity, but whose innate passion can be easily ignited.
"The right card represents a critical element of the future. You have the Queen of Wands, reversed: the dark essence of fire behaving as water, such as steam; the natural embodiment of passion and sensuality, who will do anything to be the center of attention. A seducer who calculatingly dons the guise of what others desire. A cocky and domineering person, who pushes anyone or anything aside to get what he wants, one who is vengeful and quick to take offense without good cause."
"So are these good or bad cards?" He questioned. He had no idea what all of this meant.
"In this, there is no good or bad. Only truth. The past card cannot be changed – it has already and will always shape you. The middle is the present, and represents what you are like and who you are at this moment in time. The last card, which so happens to be reversed, tells of what may be. It is not set in stone, but only you have the power to change it. This is what the universe has told us."
He nodded and made ready to leave. But before he left, he made sure to ask a couple questions that had nagged at his consciousness.
"What kind of fortune-telling is that? I've never seen it before." He pointed towards the set that he had been unable to identify.
She looked at him with calculating eyes. "They are the bones of dragon knuckles, and when cast are used to judge the future with incredible accuracy. But they can also spell certain disaster, in that some people take too harshly to the picture painted by the bones, and make decisions that do them no favours. For you, I do not think that they would complement your mentality."
He nodded, slightly disturbed. He hadn't wanted a detailed tale of what was to come any more than he wanted to drop dead on the spot.
"And I have to ask – are you related to a Sybil Trelawney? The one who teaches at Hogwarts?"
With a grin, she answered, "Yes, she is my younger sister. Though I am better known for being related to the celebrated Seer Cassandra, our grandmother. I was named in her honour, you know."
He thanked her and left the little room. He tossed a couple Knuts into the donation jar and left the store. Outside in the fresh air, he noticed that an hour had gone by. He could not see the troublesome trio anywhere and he made to return to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.
All of his summer homework was done, with each done with as much detail as possible. He had been reading the first couple chapters of the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes books, deciding to leave the rest to the teachers. He had read the entireties of every other subjects' books. He had even practiced some spells in his room, making sure he could cast the spells but left perfecting them to whenever they came up in class. Harry had also decided that he would get ahead this year so that by the time fourth year rolled around, he would already be halfway through or beyond OWL-level coursework. In agreement with that, all except a few of his 'light reading' books were, in fact, accompaniment or advanced spellbooks.
Harry had read through the first couple chapters of those as well and was pleased to find that they, at least, made sense. Unlike that brother of his …
Figuring he should rest, Harry sat down. His thoughts drifted to that of the troublesome trio and be began to remember his first few weeks of being a first-year.
(Flashback – First Week at Hogwarts)
Walking from Lunch to his Potions class saw Harry Potter alone, and lost in thought. In their hurry to meet the Boy-Who-is-Annoying, they'd completely overlooked him. At least it provided an easy excuse for him to concentrate fully in his work … he'd never so much as been sneered at by Snape. If anything, the man liked him …
But being a robot to his studies didn't really help him with the friend situation, though. The other students took one look at him, thought, "Eww, nerd," and then walked far away, never to return. He noticed he wasn't the only one with this problem, but she was a girl and he didn't have it in him to approach her – she would probably claim that he was trying to make a move on her and then smack him in the head with whatever book bag she'd be carrying.
So he wandered into Potions, took his solitary seat with his head hung low. Last class, Snape had seemed to be the best teacher to mask his surprise at there being a second Potter child. But he also seemed to try to goad him into rising and attacking the professor, too.
"So, it's The-Boy-Who-Lived … can you tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Christopher sat there, dumbfounded.
"Tsk, tsk, clearly fame isn't everything, Mister Potter. Let's try again. Where could you find a bezoar?"
Again, Christopher didn't know the answer, glancing around uncomfortably across the room, and spying jealously towards the two people who seemed to know the answer.
Snape continued with his charade. "Could you perhaps tell me, Mister Potter, what you would get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I honestly don't know, Professor. But I think Harry does," he said, eying the rather innocently smug form of his twin.
"Very well. Mister Potter," Snape spun around to face Harry, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"There is none. They are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."
Snape seemed slightly surprised that he was actually able to answer, but he wasn't at all impressed. He only pressed further.
"Can you tell me where to find a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat, much like a kidney stone."
"And the product of powdered root of asphodel added to an infusion of wormwood would be ...?"
"A powerful sleeping potion called 'The Draught of Living Death'."
With a reluctant nod, Snape grudgingly turned his attention from Harry and continued on with his lesson. He set them up with a simple potion to cure boils.
As Harry progressed, he quickly learned that potion-making was really down to how well you could follow instructions and how efficiently you could follow those instructions. The further you got into potion-making, the more you would have to know about each individual ingredient - but as a first-year, they simply had to follow directions. His potion was exactly the colour and description it should be at its stage when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville Longbottom, another Gryffindor student, had somehow managed to melt his partner Seamus Finnegan's cauldron into a twisted blob of metal and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in peoples' shoes. Within seconds, everyone was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" Snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Boils started popping up on Neville's nose, and Professor Snape sent Seamus and Neville to the Hospital Wing. He also berated Christopher and Ron, who had been working alongside them, for not watching to make sure something like this didn't happen, and supposedly trying to make themselves look better by adding the quills to the boiling liquid.
Harry had left the class with a slightly better opinion of this wizard (exclusively for taking his twin down a notch) but didn't know what this next class held in store. He wondered if someone would melt a cauldron this class.
(End Flashback)
Back at the Leaky Cauldron, he organised everything to be taken at a moment's notice, for when he woke up in the morning he would surely be in a hurry to take the Knight Bus to Kings Cross Station and he didn't know how long the ride would be.
He again set his alarm, deciding that he would switch it up from the music that he had before.
AN: Next chapter will see Harry on the Hogwarts Express, and the start of school. It's going to be very busy for Harry. After that, things will soon pick up speed, methinks.
I borrowed some text from the original works by J. K. Rowling and modified it a little to fit my story (in this chapter and in the last) - if you're as big of a Potterhead as I am you know which parts.
Again, please review! Ask me questions, give me suggestions, point out errors, the like. I don't care if it's been 3 hours or 3 years since the chapter has been posted, all reviews are welcome.
I would love to thank all of you who reviewed last chapter - xp3r1a, V-Vendetta, autumngold (Guest), adenoide (Guest), Fan (Guest), Local Nutter (Guest), SnowFrost13, iiAliceii, algrover, Faiien, Emily (Guest), Slapster, thekingofsweden1, and jonh73. I've replied to every single one of you who have signed in, and most of you seem to have raised the question of why the Dursleys like Christopher, but not Harry. Unfortunately for you guys, you're going to have to wait for the answer! This isn't going to be a mammoth story (I'd die before I finished writing it) so you won't have to wait too long (hopefully).
A lot of you have mentioned pairings. As of right now in the story, Harry is entering his third year. That means he is 13. Frankly, when I was thirteen I couldn't care less about dating, so we'll wait 'till next year to analyze who Harry should be paired with (though I already have a few likely candidates in mind, thanks to you guys!) Go ahead and keep suggesting if you want. If a bunch of you want a specific pairing, I'm more inclined to write it (unless of course it screws with the plotline).
Just some replies to guest reviews that you can ignore if you didn't review as guest (there's nothing below them):
autumngold: Wasn't planning on it, and now you've seen it. Unfortunately, I think it'll take a little more than just having one magical member in their house instead of two to realise how Christopher (and, somewhat, Dudley as well) really is/are.
adenoide: I am a twin myself, and the idea of treating mine like that is almost repulsive to me, as well. But you have to remember that Christopher mirrored Dudley in order to 'survive' (aka not be yelled at) so for the Dursleys to acknowledge the bad ways of one while their own son does the same would be hard for them, and so they never have. There's more to this, but I'll go into it later on in the plot.
Fan: Great to hear you're looking forward to it. As of now, I have only ideas that are being tossed around like a juggler, and I am leaning towards ones that would fit with the plot. So no specific pairing per sé, but we'll find that out in my rendition of GoF or perhaps OotP.
Local Nutter: I admit, not a pairing I was considering for this story before seeing your comment (also, I love your name! haha). I don't think I will go slash, for this story. It doesn't ... fit? feel right? It just doesn't match my idea of the story with a slash pairing.
Emily: Yes, starting this chapter Harry's story starts to become his own.