2. Brothers in circumstances
The pages of the simple, leather bound book, hidden in a secret chamber under the dining room of Malfoy Mansion, rustled.
Deep down in the vaults of Gringotts, a cup glistened from an unearthly light.
In a shelf of a cupboard in a deserted house in London, a locket opened with a creak.
Between many pieces of lost rubbish and treasure, a beautiful diadem hovered for a moment, then fell back with a soft tinkle.
A snake, that slithered through the understorey of a thick forest, raised his head in wonder and sneezed. It would be the only snake to ever have sneezed.
In a shack a ring turned a few times, before it lay still.
A fifteen month old toddler opened his eyes, sight blurred from tears and blood, which ran down from the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, as he felt something twisting inside of him. A white, softly glowing light erupted from the open skin and slowly took a form. He watched in wonder as step by step other lights floated through the shuttered window and merged with the first. Each one made the form more corporal. Finally, the last one melted under the skin and the glow faded. Next to little Harry lay a boy, not older than himself, with black hair and pale skin. He was sleeping.
Too exhausted to care and not really caring anyway, since he was fifteen months old and took strange things without questioning them, Harry cuddled closed to the other kid, happy not to be alone any longer.
Sobs awakened the small boys. They opened their eyes simultaneously, bright emerald green meeting dark, nearly black ones.
Tom stared. And stared. And stared some more. He lay face to face with his most deadly enemy. Who had killed him not even an hour ago. Who had killed him a second time sixteen years from now. Who was currently fifteen months old and covered in tears, snot and blood and clung to him like his life was depending on it.
The not-quite-toddler blinked. Harry mirrored him. They starred some more.
There were still sobs in the background, though both of them were silent. Someone else is here. The thought pulled Tom out of his trance. He tried to look around, but that turned out to be quite difficult, since Harry clutched him even tighter as soon as he started to move, which made him aware that he was as naked as the day he had been born. Which had happened about an hour ago.
Damn. He was already getting a headache.
Tom heard a sniffle and looked at the other baby, who was smearing – no, he would not think about that! – who was hiding his face against his shoulder, which was not easy, since he was stuck in the body of a bloody fifteen-month old! Literally bloody, now.
He struggled to disentangle himself, but the toddler proved himself to be strong for his age. Great, now he lost even to baby Potter! His efforts distressed the boy and he started to cry. Usually he would kill such crybaby or at least tell him to get his act together. On the other hand had he just killed the child's parents and shouting at him felt a little too mean, even for his standards. Stupid whole soul and undamaged consciousness!
Awkwardly he patted the other boys head, who, to his astonishment, reduced his crying to sniffles.
Great! He made a mental note to kick the disembodied voice, should he ever meet it again.
He heard shuffling and then hurried steps. Someone was coming. He tried to remember who had found Potter that day, but he'd been a sorry excuse of a spirit at that time. Hopefully it wasn't Dumbledore, though, or he could kick the voice sooner than he preferred.
"No, Lily! Not you, too!", a man cried out in anguish. It wasn't Dumbledore, at least.
"Please, please..." the man came nearer. Tom decided to follow his fellow toddler suit and scrunched his little face up, as if he was in pain and cuddled closed to his arch-enemy. In reality, he felt perfectly fine, aside from the building headache.
A shadow fell over the crib and Tom held his breath, as a large hand touched the boy next to him. Little Harry squeezed him tighter and whimpered. Tom whimpered, too, since his ribcage was getting seriously damaged.
"You are alive. Thank Merlin!", the man whispered. By now, Tom was fairly sure he was Sirius Black, Potter's godfather. Said man tried the same as he had a few minuted ago, to disentangle his godson from the foreign child, but the children would not let go of each other.
Harry, because he was still in shock and Tom, because he had realized that the other child was his life-insurance at the moment.
Sirius ended up giving both children to Hagrid before he went to take revenge on Pettigrew. The half giant did not mind much. He was happy enough that Harry was alive and the dark lord was dead, unaware that he had said dark lord as a reborn toddler in the side car of the motorcycle.
Tom was tired. He figured it was the fate of a baby to be sleep a lot, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Harry was sleeping exhausted, too. The little child tried to stay awake, but the steady hum of the motor lulled him into sleep.
Dumbledore was a very happy man. Within one fateful night the war had been ended, by a child no less. Of course, Voldemort was not gone forever. But now the headmaster knew that the prophesy was true and should he ever come back, Harry would be able to kill him with a bit help. At the moment the old wizard stood in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood, to set the first stage of his plan into motion. Harry had to be safe, not only from the death eaters, but also from the allure of fame. There was no better way than giving him a sibling and raising him the muggle way, even if said muggles were not after his deputy headmistress' liking.
"Where is Hagrid?", Minerva McGonagall asked. She had been in a unpleasant mood al day, not at all agreeing with his choice of guardians for young Harry. Dumbledore just pointed skywards, exactly as a thundering noise roared over Surrey. Oddly, nobody seemed to hear it, aside from the two magicians.
A huge motorcycle landed right next to them and a imposing figure carefully lifted a bundle out of the side-car. Dumbledore smiled and opened his arms to welcome the child, but then frowned. The bundle was ways to big for a little boy. He approached the half-giant and glanced into the wrapped blankets.
"What is the meaning of this, Hagrid?", Dumbledore asked in astonishment, as he saw a second toddler with a startling similarity to Harry, laying snuggled to the other boy.
"Albus?", Minerva asked worriedly.
"Sirius found 'em like that. Didn't wanna let go, poor lil`ones", the man explained, drying a tear with a tablecloth sized handkerchief.
Albus Dumbledore looked down at the two sleeping boys as his mind spun. Why would the Potters take a child into their house? Non of their friends had a child this age aside from Alice and Frank, but this was not Neville. There was only one other explanation. Voldemort had brought this child with him, no doubt to perform a gruesome ritual.
A smile spread on his wrinkled face. What a twist of fate, that these two innocent boys, who should have sealed the fate of the magical word, had bested Voldemort! The headmaster cradled the two sleeping children and carefully sat them down at the Dursleys' doorstep. What fate brought together should not be separated. There had been no other attacks on magical families and no baby had been kidnapped, so the other boy was surely a muggle.
He just added a few more lines to the letter. The child looked like he was Harry's age, so he would probably know his given name. After a minute of consideration he brought the quill down to the parchment and wrote.
Only weeks before their death, Lily and James decided to adopt a child. As the child has no living relatives besides his brother Harry, I will leave him in your care.
He read the sentence and nodded to himself. Very good. He finished and folded the letter and placed it on top of the sleeping children, and ignoring Minerva's protests, left them there. He had done his best for Harry and the wizarding world.