When Lucius was a little boy, before he understood the responsibilities of his name, he loved to dream of the future. He would spend hours over hours sitting cross-legged on Cicero's bed, telling him all about the life he would one day lead whilst his brother listened. He would talk of grand weddings and flocks of children that were all sorted into Slytherin House, a future in which the name of Malfoy was synonymous with 'hero' because of Lucius' great deeds that were comparable to Merlin himself. In his fantasies, all the beautiful witches, even Martha Parkinson, preferred him over Cicero because, in the future, Lucius would grow taller than his big brother.

Over time, his stories had lost their adventurous streak and ceased to resemble the fairy tales their mother used to read them and with every new story he told, there was another touch of realism that hadn't been there before. Someday, even that vanished and Lucius stopped telling stories and indulging his fantasies.

The very last story he had ever told his brother had been the most solemn of them all, a tale lined with heartbreak, death and destruction and he had told it kneeling in the mud before his brother's grave. Clutched in his hands, so tightly that they were all worn, were the tiny bracelets Eoin and Finian had worn for a mere hour. They had been a peace offering, sent to them by Cissy's muggle-loving sister, and had almost been thrown out, for no other reason than spite. They had only ended up keeping them because Cissy's water broke the second Lucius had called for Dobby. The boys were two months early- a result of them being twins, they had been ensured, and quite normal- and they, in their rush to get to St. Mungo's, hadn't thought to bring the personalized blankets with them. When the boys came out looking very much identical- well, Lucius really didn't think they'd had any other choice but put the bracelets on them. They had been his most treasured possession ever since, for they were all he had to remind himself that Eoin and Finian were truly real.

He held onto the bracelets tightly as he sat down with his wife and their son, a few hours after he had returned from Hogwarts.

"What is it, Father?" Draco drawled. "If I want to beat Potter next year, I have to practice-"

He held up the hand that wasn't holding the nametags to silence his son. Ever since the beginning of his First Year, all Draco seemed to talk about was stupid Potter with his broom and the fame, and Lucius was growing tired of it- especially now. "This is more important than your schoolboy feud, Draco," he took a deep breath. "Do you remember how sick you used to be when you were a small boy?"
"Of course. I'm not relapsing, am I? Uncle Sev said it was unlikely-"

"No, you're not relapsing. When- When you were sick, a few months after we found out about your illness, your mother and I decided that the only way to ensure our line's continuity was to…to have another son."

"Lucius, we agreed-"

He looked at his wife with grievous eyes. His wife, who had borne him his three sons and who had suffered so badly after their twins were taken. "It needs to be done. You will understand soon."

"You didn't have another son, though," Draco said before Lucius could continue. "I'm your only child."

"You're not. We raised you in that belief to spare you the pain. You were only four months old when we found out that your mother- she was pregnant. We were overjoyed-"

The boy jumped up, his face growing unnaturally red. "Overjoyed that you could replace me? I'm your firstborn!"

"Yes, you are. And we never intended to replace you-"

"What did you need another son for then? Malfoys only have one son!"

Narcissa laid her hand on the boy's arm- she had always had a very calming effect on their son that Lucius could never hope to imitate. "That's not true, Draco, and you know that. We have taken you to your uncle's grave before."

"He's an exception."

"Cicero was your grandfather's firstborn, so I was the exception," Lucius corrected off-handedly. "But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that we didn't intend to replace you. We simply wanted to ensure that our line would survive and another child would be necessary for that. Even if you hadn't been sick, we would've given you a sibling sooner or later."
"Well, what happened then? There's no other kid around here."

Narcissa nodded. "When we went to see a Healer, she told us that I was with twin boys. I'm ashamed to say that our joy was dimmed by the prospect of two more sons instead of one but as time went by, we got used to the thought and couldn't wait to hold both of them in our arms."

"Two brothers. I have two brothers and you never thought to tell me? Where are they? Have you hidden them away, are they squibs?"

When looking at his son, especially since his eleventh birthday, Lucius had often wondered where they had gone wrong with him- he was an arrogant child, who took too much pride in his name and too little in his accomplishments. He was disruptive and impulsive, with a temper that oftentimes rivaled that of Potter, and had, within the last four years, turned into a deeply troubled boy. He knew that they had wronged him but never had he imagined that his own son thought their love was conditional.

"Draco, we would never abandon our child, no matter whether they had magic," he said but he could see that Draco didn't believe him. Sighing, he thrust the tiny bracelets into his son's hand, who held them cautiously.
"Eoin," he read, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation. "Finian," he looked up. "Are those their names?"
"Yes. Those are the names we gave them upon their birth but they carried them for only an hour. They were kidnapped, taken from St. Mungo's when I went to fetch you and Severus."

"Why're you telling me now? What has changed?"

At least, they hadn't neglected Draco's intellectual growth as they did his emotional, he thought sourly as he nodded. "Severus has found Eoin."

Cissy gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth.

"After he was taken from us, he was given an aging potion along with a new identity to make other people believe he was someone else's son. He started Hogwarts along with you, Draco."

"Who is he?"

"The name he grew up with is Harry James Potter."


His head was aching something terrible by the time he settled down in his office, almost ten hours after he had informed Narcissa and Draco of Severus' findings. His wife had been numb, had retracted into her own mind almost immediately to deal with the new situation but Draco, impulsive, angst-ridden Draco, had raved and yelled for hours, had shouted at both his parents for not telling him about his twin brothers. Once he realized his mother's state, almost one hour into his ravings, he concentrated his efforts on Lucius only. Lucius had endured his son's angry antics- it was, after all, partly his fault and Draco had all rights to be angry with them. He had listened patiently, with only the occasional cringe when Draco hit a nerve with him, until his shouts had ceased and turned into desperate pleas instead. Anyone but Potter, he had pleaded. Absolutely anyone but him.

Lucius doubted whether Draco truly meant that- he knew very well that the boy would probably have reacted even more poorly had the Longbottom boy turned out to be one of his brothers- Lucius himself had entertained that thought shortly, knowing that the boy's birthday was the day before Harry Potter's, but knew that Severus would've checked. He was glad, he had to admit, for he had heard the horror tales of the boy's clumsiness and overall uselessness when it came to any magic but herbology, which, truth be told, wasn't magic at all. A squib son, he could live with. He could even love a son who was absolutely useless- that didn't mean, however, that he couldn't be glad that his boys weren't like that. Although, he supposed, he ought to be grateful to the boy as well- he knew all about Weasley abandoning his son out of jealousy after Halloween but the Longbottom boy had stayed loyal and even attempted to help him. His sons, Eoin and Draco alike and perhaps Finian too, would need loyal friends in the years to come and, anyways, Longbottom was the heir of a Noble and Ancient House. Having their houses connected through friendship would be worthwhile- no. He was getting ahead of himself. His son wasn't yet aware of his true identity and once he was, Lucius was sure he would react just as poorly as Draco had, maybe even worse. He had to take it step by step.

It was getting close to eleven when the fireplace finally roared and spit Severus onto his carpet- the younger man, despite regularly using the floo, could still often be found lying on the floor, caught off-guard by the fireplace's push.

"Severus," he greeted with a nod. "I trust you have news for me?"

"Few that will please you," Severus said. "I have decided to forgo our earlier plans."

"What? What have you done?"

"Calm down, Lucius. I have sent the boy a note, telling him to be ready to leave by midnight. I shall go pick him up then."

"How did you even find out where he lived? And what makes you believe he will go along with you? Everyone knows that the boy can't stand you."
"I never said that I was going to give him a choice. He is but a child and he will do what I tell him to do. As to the matter of finding him- I happened to come across Mundungus Fletcher earlier today, who, it seems, was set to watch Potter's residence tonight. It was…rather easy to persuade him to sit this one out. You do owe him ten galleons, though."

"I don't care for the money," he waved his hand. "Have you made any progress regarding Finian?"

"None. I was thinking, however, that if you use your influence, you could get the Department of Child Welfare to conduct a nationwide search- make all registered boys between the ages of thirteen and fifteen take a paternity potion."

"We'd certainly get all the homeschooled boys that way," he nodded, silently chastising himself for not thinking of this when Fudge the fool had first been elected. "We could have Eoin go there as Potter, they can't deny that he is a Malfoy if they find out for themselves."

"Quite right."


As the clock struck midnight, Harry sat awake in his room at Number 4. Not too long ago, this room used to be Dudley's second bedroom, for all the toys his cousin broke and abandoned within two weeks of getting them. He had only gotten it because the Dursleys were afraid of what might happen if anyone found out about the cupboard- another good thing Hogwarts had caused to happen, even though Harry wasn't quite sure why no one at school had seemed to care at all that his bedroom used to be the cupboard under the stairs.

He was perched upon his trunk, which he hadn't unpacked in the first place, ready to leave, just in case someone trustworthy did turn up. His wand was already tightly clutched in his right hand. It would only take a swift flick of his wrist to disarm any enemies.

The entire day had been spent trying to figure out who had sent the message but, no matter how much he concentrated, he simply couldn't come up with a solution. There were several professors at school whose last name started with an S, he knew, like Sprout, Snape and some woman called Sinister, whom Hermione occasionally mentioned, but none of these were very likely to be SS. He didn't know any of their first names but even so he felt certain that he could cross them off his list- Sprout and Sinister simply didn't seem the type to get involved in a war and the mere thought of Snape as his savior – Snape, of all people – was ridiculous above all. The man hated him, absolutely despised him, and Harry truly couldn't say the feeling wasn't mutual. Snape had had it out for him ever since they first met. No, the potions professor was far more likely to take pleasure in Harry's plight than attempting to save him from it.

He perked up as he heard a pop sound outside his room. Had Hermione been there, she would've surely been able to tell him exactly what sort of magic made that noise. Harry certainly didn't know. He stood up and raised his wand, listening closely to any more sounds. He could hear Uncle Vernon and Dudley snoring quite clearly tonight- he was usually very adept at ignoring them, though maybe not quite as good as his aunt, but tonight, their breaths seemed louder. Harry supposed that might've been because he was listening for any disturbance of the nightly peace, something he wasn't prone to do otherwise. Any other night, he would be in bed, either wide awake in fear of falling asleep or already trapped in a fitful slumber he refused to call rest.

The door opened painstakingly slow. Harry tensed- a figure entered, clothed entirely in black, as dark as the shadows around him and almost unrecognizable.

"Snape!" He exclaimed, lowering his wand slightly. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment, the professor seemed almost startled at Harry's shock before curling his lips into the sneer he was all too familiar with.
"You have obviously received my message-"

"Your message?"

Snape snarled. "Are you telling me that you did not recognize my handwriting? You have seen it for four years unless you never bothered to read the lengthy notes I always add to your essays-"

"I've read them," Harry lied quickly.

"Then you should have recognized the handwriting as my own."

"Well-"

"Are you ready to leave?" Snape asked. "Professor Dumbledore has specifically ordered for you to be moved within minutes."

Harry frowned. "Dumbledore-"

"Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, he told me that I couldn't leave Privet Drive before my birthday."

"He changed his mind. Unless you wish to stay in this place until summer is over?"

"No!" Harry said. "I'm ready."

"Good, we have to haste now," Harry thought that might've been a lie since Snape had obviously had time to argue with him. "Where is your owl?"

"What?"

"You are in possession of an owl, are you not? Where is it?"

"I sent her to Ron. The Dursleys didn't like having her around."

"Very well. Hold onto your trunk and my arm and do not let go. That is of uttermost importance, do you understand me?"

"Yes."

He hesitatingly reached out to grab Snape's upper arm, barely refraining from flinching when the man, in turn, held onto his as well, way tighter than Harry. They turned on the spot and his room disappeared- he felt as though he was being squeezed through a tube that wasn't meant to let anyone remotely human pass. His organs felt squished and his vision went blurry as beams of color shot past them. He let go of Snape's arm as soon as the squeezing stopped and wrapped an arm around his upset stomach. His other hand still clutched onto the trunk for stability. The first thing he noticed when the dizziness finally went away was the polished marble floor beneath him. The room he was in had an almost gloomy feel to it, not at all homey like the Burrow, yet not as distant as he had always imagined mansions to feel. His eyes finally landed on the two people standing a few feet away from him and he barely had enough time to recognize Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's Death Eater father, when a spell hit him in the back. He fell forward but before he even hit the ground, he was succumbed by blackness.


Alrighty then, a couple of you guys asked some pretty relevant questions that I can answer already (some of them were answered already but y'know) IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS, DON'T READ THIS!

1. Is Harry gonna turn around and just forgive them? Nope. As I said, he's an angst-ridden, depressed little sod and the Malfoys are part of the reason for why he's like that. He hates them with a passion and won't just forget everything that happened. However, for my plot to work, Harry will be a little more cooperative than you'd expect him to be. That is because he will discover his Slytherin side.

2. Who's Finian? Now, any of you who checked out my profile will know that I really like to use OCs. This is also the case here. Finian is going to be an OC of mine for several reasons. First off, I wanted Eoin (Harry) to be found some time before Finian but the only way I could make this work was if Finian wasn't at Hogwarts (for reasons you'll discover later on). Since there aren't any homeschooled wizards we know of, I decided to make my own. However, Finian grew up as the relative of a very important character. Neville isn't the twin (though I played with the thought but dismissed it obviously) but will still play a big part.

3. How come Draco and Harry are in the same year? I answered this question in this chapter. Eoin was given an aging potion (conveniently, aging potions do exist in the HP universe as seen in GoF), the reasons for which will come up soon. Ergo, Eoin and Finian are younger than Draco, having been born on July 31st, 1981.

4. How do they know Harry is Eoin and not Finian? One word- Fraternal. (more later)

Oh, also, Cicero's gonna be relevant for Lucius' backstory though as of now, I don't plan on exploring his character further than that.