A/N: Okay, so I'm on a chocolate rush and planning to pull an all-nighter. I didn't like how I ended the first chapter and I'm probably going to change it later, but for now I'm just going to continue on. P.s. yes, the title of the story is based on the Secondhand Serenade song.

Warnings: Some Explicit language in this chapter. Not much, but one or two is enough.

July 10th, 1991

He couldn't believe it. After almost three years of living at Hogwarts and cleaning up after the students, Hogwarts felt like home. It had taken a while, but Filch had finally started warming up to him and he'd been allowed nearly unlimited access to the library for his 'training.' Since coming to Hogwarts, Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of his twin and he liked it that way, but this…well, this dashed that plan. Not to mention that Filch would hate him after finding out.

Harry had been accepted to Hogwarts. Of course he'd known that there was a good chance that this would happen since he wasn't the squib everybody thought he was, but he had hoped that because he was studying and practicing independently he wouldn't have to go to school, but apparently not. The worst part was that there was no avoiding his secret getting out; if he rejected the Hogwarts letter, there would be questions and they'd know about his magic. On the same token, if he accepted the invitation then they would know of him at the sorting.

Breathing deeply, he grabbed a quill and some parchment and wrote:

Dear Professor McGonagall,

Thank you for accepting me into Hogwarts and I look forward to studying there. I do, however, have some concerns considering my lack of money for school supplies so if you would meet me at three O'clock in the main entrance of Hogwarts to talk about that, it would be much appreciated.

See you then,

Harry Potter

Sealing the letter, he turned to smile at his beloved owl, Hedwig. She had been the first present he'd ever gotten and, surprisingly, it had been Filch that had gifted her to him.

"Can you take this letter to professor McGonagall, girl?" He smiled lovingly at his owl who nipped his finger and hooted her assent, snatching the letter from his hand and flying out.

He shook his head in amusement and got up to go search for Filch. He dreaded telling the man, but he knew it would be better to tell him than let him find out on his own. Finally locating him in the abandoned girls' lavatory, he paused momentarily to gather his thoughts.

"Harry? Well, come on boy, help me clean these mirrors." Filch called across the room, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Okay." Harry grabbed a rag and scrubbed at the mirrors that were littered with some kind of red paint. They finished up quietly and Harry decided it would be more painful to prolong this. "Sir, can I tell you something?"

"Of course, Harry." The man grumped, but that wasn't unusual.

"Promise not to be mad, okay?" Harry practically begged.

"Harry!" Filch sighed in exasperation. "Just tell me already, I probably already know." The man smirked.

"I bet not." Harry muttered, then took a few calming breathes. "Listen, I-I got my Hogwarts letter this morning and I'm going." Harry said in a rush.

The man didn't even seem to blink, he just rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'm not blind, Harry. Mrs. Norris and I knew you were magical the moment you stepped into the castle, why do you think it took so long for me to warm up to you?"

Harry gaped. "You mean all this time you knew?" At the retched man's nod, he hissed in fury. "Do you know how fucking worried I was about telling you? I thought you'd hate me!" Harry seethed while the man laughed.

"I was just giving you time, Harry. I knew you'd tell me eventually." The squib huffed, though it was more playful than irritated.

"I guess." Harry sighed, his anger burnt out. "I almost forgot to tell you, I have an appointment at three with McGonagall to get money and maybe some supplies. That's okay, right?" Harry asked.

"Well, if you're going to Hogwarts, you'll need supplies. Don't worry about me, Harry. I'm getting by just fine without magic." Harry rolled his eyes at the last part.

"You think I haven't noticed the pamphlets in your desk for squib school?"

"You know I want magic and I'll admit that I am jealous of you having magic, but I like you, Harry. You are like a friend or the son I never had, so I don't begrudge you too much. I want you to be happy, Harry, and I'd like to see your parents' faces when they receive word that you have magic. However, word to the wise, you may want to watch your mouth from now on and start using that extensive vocabulary of yours instead of swear words."

"Yet you're the one I learned it from." Harry said cheekily. Filch swiped at him, but Harry was too quick. "See you later, roomie." Harry chuckled hearing the man grumble after him.

The ten year old made his way to the main entrance and waited a few minutes. Eventually, McGonagall arrived, looking rather disbelieving when Harry showed up in front of her.

"Hullo, professor." Harry pulled himself into a sophisticated stance and made full use of his pureblood mask.

"Mr. Potter." The woman said primly. She'd seen him around the castle, of course, but she hadn't known his name or that Brandon Potter even had a brother, let alone a twin.

"I believe I wrote about my financial situation, correct?" Harry asked calmly.

The woman eyed him for the longest of moments before pulling out a bag of Galleons. "Mr. Potter, before I give this to you I need to know why your parents aren't paying for you."

"It's simple professor; they think I'm a squib. They always have. Therefore, I know they won't be affording me the money to pay for supplies." Harry said blankly.

"Have you thought of telling them?" McGonagall asked almost desperately.

"Of course I have, but they wouldn't care. They never have. Now, if you'll kindly hand over the money then I'll be out of your hair." Harry smirked coldly. The strict old woman reluctantly handed him the bag, giving him a warning look.

"Do you need to be accompanied to Diagon Alley, Mr. Potter?"

"No, ma'am." Harry said sweetly, starting to walk towards the gates of Hogwarts, leaving a befuddled professor behind.

The walk to Hogsmeade was not long nor winding and he made it to the Three Broomsticks in record time. Happily walking into the grimy bar/motel, he flashed the bar maid a dazzling smile.

"Madam, may I use your floo?" He asked politely.

"Bless my soul." The woman giggled. "Quite the charmer you are. Yes, young man, you may use my floo." She winked and he gave her another smile. Heading over to the fireplace, he grabbed a small pinch of floo powder, threw in the fire, and called out Diagon Alley.

Like many things, he had never used floo powder before, so it was no surprise when he stumbled out of the fireplace and into the Leaky Cauldron. Quickly righting himself, he stood impeccably straight and looked around haughtily before noticing the bar owner.

"You are Tom, right?" Harry asked the balding man quietly.

"Tha' I am, boy. You need into the alley?" At Harry's nod, the man stepped over to a brick wall, pressing his wand in a pattern Harry was determined to remember.

His first glimpse of Diagon alley was the most remarkable thing he'd ever seen. Compared to Hogsmeade or Godric's Hollow, this place was the city of gold. From the pristine and well-made cobblestone walkway to the many clean, vibrant shops, Harry could see what made this place great. It was really too bad he didn't have time to look around or else he would, but for now he was on a mission. Looking at the list, he decided that getting a wand was the first and most important thing on the list.

Entering Ollivanders wand shop, Harry felt a shiver go up his spine but ignored it in favor of getting the white-haired, bug-eyed shop owner.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I knew you would turn up. Albus tried to make me believe that you were a squib but I knew." The man gave him a wane smile and Harry straightened his shoulders.

"I just want a wand, sir."

"Of course. Come along, Mr. Potter." The elderly man left the corner and started taking measurements of Harry. "What is the subject you are best at?"

Harry paused, thinking. "Defense, I'm almost positive."

"Hmm. I'll be back."

Harry waited patiently for the man, looking around and taking in the wooden shack. The wands were stored in what looked to be shoe boxes and they were covered in dust. In fact, most of the shop was covered in dust, but he supposed it had something to do with the wood that the shop as made of. Was it oak?

He was distracted from his boring thoughts by the entrance of Ollivander carrying a dark wand. "This wand is as close to the elder wand as possible and it is very powerful, as well as special. I've waited a long time to match this wand, and I hope it will accept you." He handed Harry the wand and it immediately exploded into a range of colors. It was singing to him.

"What is it made of?" Harry whispered, admiring the beautiful wand.

"Root of a dead spruce tree and hair of unicorn, willingly given. The wand is essentially its own Yin and Yang, Light and Dark. Take great care of this wand Harry Potter and you shall do great things." Ollivander turned and walked out of sight so Harry took that as his que to leave.

Still shaken from the experience, Harry chose to get robes next. Because Hogwarts had allowed him such a fund, Harry was able to buy the most expensive robes in Diagon Alley and maybe the entirety of Great Britain. He got rich blues and greens, as well as the required black robes.

Feeling good, Harry bought the rest of his supplies and flooed back to the Three Broomsticks without much trouble. As he walked, he pulled out one of the books that he had bought as extracurricular reading. The title was peculiar but interesting: The Art Of Living By: Arnold Petrowski. The more he read, the more interesting it became. It was more a book on psychology than magic, but it seemed to be a different, muggle kind of medicine.

Not paying attention, the studious boy didn't realize that he was already at Hogwarts until a voice was cleared. Jumping, Harry's head shot up and he tensed until he seen that it was merely Filch.

"Bloody hell, man. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Harry gasped.

"I can't mess with you if you're dead, Harry. And what did I tell you about that mouth?" Filch huffed.

"Yea, yea, will you help me bring my bags to the rooms?" Filch stared at the large, heavy bags in horror.

"Bloody brat."

"It's what I'm best at."

July 31st, 1991

"Surprise!"

"Meow."

Opening his eyes, he looked down at the pressure on his lap. It was a tray of eggs, bacon, celery, pumpkin juice, scones, and a bowl of grapes.

"Wow, thanks!" Harry grinned at Filch and Mrs. Norris then dug in.

"You need to work on your table manners, young man." Filch berated playfully.

"Yea, like I don't have manners." Harry snorted, but Filch just gave his shirt a pointed look. Looking down, he noticed the grease stains on his shirt then shrugged. "So I need to invest in a drop cloth?" Harry and Filch laughed for a while.

"Ah, Harry, I'm going to miss you when you leave." Filch said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Who said I was leaving? Honestly, I'll still see you every day and I'll come here plenty."

"You will?" Filch asked solemnly.

"Yes. Filch, you're my only friend besides an elf I rarely see." Harry said soothingly.

"It's just that…well…no one likes me, Harry. I'm practically an evil hermit."

"Hey, if you want to fix that then you know what you need to do. You need to leave the magical world or come to terms with the fact that you're a squib. You also need to clean yourself up before you look like Snape." Harry sniggered and Filch scowled petulantly.

"I will not."

"Keep saying that, my friend. Now what about a present?" Harry asked excitedly.

"I don't know what you mean." Filch sniffed and Harry pushed him playfully.

"Come on, please?" Harry gave him puppy-dog eyes and Filch reluctantly gave in.

"Fine, brat, come on." Harry followed the man into the sitting room, noticing the difference from when he had first arrived. It was clean and the furniture looked almost new with the touch ups Harry had put in place.

Sitting on the couch he once fixed, there was a large, long box and Harry opened it with excitement. A broomstick! Not only that, but a Nimbus 2000!

"Oh Merlin, you must have spent a fortune on this!" Harry gaped at the man who shrugged.

"It was worth it. I've seen you on those school brooms and you're an amazing flyer. I bet you'll be a seeker when you are allowed to join the Quidditch team."

"Oh, you want to bet?" Harry raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"No, that would be taking your money, because I know I'll win."

"Fine." Harry stuck out his tongue childishly. "I'm going to go try out my broom on the quidditch pitch, okay?"

"You know I don't mind or I wouldn't have bought it." He chuckled, ruffling Harry's hair and earning a scowl.

"I know. Thanks, by the way. I absolutely love it." He hugged Filch who just huffed and waved him off.

"Go try out the broom, I'll pick up your chores for the day. Be in by sunset, I have another surprise." Filch smiled and Harry smiled back.

"You spoil me so." Harry shook his head, grabbed the broom, and headed outside.

Minutes later, Harry was flying through the sky freely, though thoughtful. Sometimes he thought of his twin, sometimes he thought of his parents and sometimes he thought of Voldemort. He thought of his twin because he tended to worry about the slightly older boy; no matter how mean he was to Harry, Brandon was still his brother. As James and Lily was still his parents, though he didn't much care for them. He mostly wondered what they would be like if they cared about him, though he knew it was a silly dream. As for Voldemort, well, there was just something interesting about him. He was a puzzle, it seemed, and Harry liked puzzles. He had studied everything from books to scholar papers to newspaper clippings to find out what he could about him. Based on the clues Dumbledore had left out in the open, Voldemort would be coming back and Harry wasn't so sure he was against him.

That thought alone stopped him cold and he lowered his broom to the ground. Sighing, he wiped his face and tried to ignore the seemingly ridiculous thoughts. One thought, however, kept bothering him.

What would happen if I joined Lord Voldemort?