SUMMARY
Harry James Potter is the only person to have ever survived the Avada Kedavra curse. Unfortunately, his twin brother, Michael Stephen Potter, mistakenly proclaimed as the Boy-Who-Lived'. As he grows up, Harry becomes withdrawn and distant from his family. However, when Harry and Michael receive their Hogwarts letters, Harry sees it as a chance to finally prove to himself and to everyone else who the true 'Boy-Who-Lived' is…
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank…
This website – For providing a forum where people like me can write stuff that people will actually get to see. Also thanks to those who have encouraged this spin-off the 'The Lone Traveller'
J.K. Rowling – They are her characters after all.
CHAPTER TEN – Immortal Memories.
"You are a threat, and threats must be eliminated." sneered an all too familiar voice. "Avada Kedavra."
However, as the usual green flash filled Harry's eyes, he suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a ruined street. Looking around in confusion, he could see that something terrible had happened, and it had happened a long time ago by the looks of things. There was no one to be seen among the rubble that littered the street and there were no discernible landmarks, but for some reason, it all seemed eerily familiar to Harry. However, it took a few minutes for him to figure it out. Picking himself up after tripping over a piece of wood, Harry looked at the piece of wood and saw that there was writing on it.
Ol v nd rs – Ma e s f ine wa ds si c 382 CAs a cold laugh in the background started to get louder, Harry knew that he was standing in the middle of the ruins of Diagon Alley…
XxXxXxXxXxX
Harry's eyes blinked open and the boy sat up slightly, his breathing ragged. He sighed and allowed himself to fall back again. He lay there for a while, wondering if he should try and go back to sleep. Eventually, he sat up again, put on his glasses and grabbed his watch from the bedside table. Five past seven, thought Harry. Why do I always have to wake up so early? I mean, I hardly ever get to sleep before midnight and yet I always wake up before anyone else. Oh well, I may as well get up seeing as I'm awake now. Bloody nightmares – that's the fifth one this week!
A few minutes later, Harry was dressed and sitting downstairs in the common room, next to an unlit fire. Harry knew he wouldn't be alone for long though – today was the last day of term. By late afternoon, Harry would be back home in Godric's Hollow, no doubt receiving an interrogation on life at Hogwarts from his little sister, though Harry was not-so-secretly hoping that Michael would take the brunt of Annie's potentially hyperactive questions, which would no doubt be delivered with all the speed and subtlety of a machine-gun. However, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to avoid having to answer questions such as 'what's it like being a Slytherin?', though the word 'Slytherin' would no doubt be replaced with the word 'Snake' by at least one of The Marauders, most likely Sirius, closely followed by his own father. Needless to say, Harry was not looking forward to that particular topic being brought up in conversation. Still, at least with the Mirrors, he and the rest of The Guys could still keep in touch, which was reassuring at the very least.
A noise from the staircase roused Harry from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw that the only two occupants of Dorm A whose company Harry could stand had obviously just got up.
"Hey, Harry," greeted Edmund. "Still a light sleeper, I see. Or do you think the Hogwarts Express is going to come sooner if you get up earlier?"
"Still a wise-ass I see, even on your last day," retorted Harry. "Y'know, I still can't help but wonder what the French'll think of you when you make your big debut at Beauxbatons with all those little semi-humorous quips of yours."
"Well, I doubt he'll get much of a reaction if he can't say them in French," pointed out Theodore. "He hasn't even figured out what 'well I, for one, am impressed' is in French."
"Je suis dans le salle de bains," said Edmund in response.
"You just made that up," said Harry, not fooled by Edmund's random piece of French.
"You're right," confirmed Theodore. "What was that anyway? I heard the word 'bathroom' in there but what that has to do with anything I will never know."
"It means something like 'I am in the Bathroom'," admitted Edmund. "I still have time to practice before we move though."
"Well, good luck," said Harry. "I mean, moving from somewhere near Carlisle to someplace in Normandy can't be easy."
"Yeah, Carlisle to Caen," said Edmund. "Still, it'll definitely be memorable."
"Hopefully for the right reasons," quipped Theodore.
"Hopefully," mumbled Edmund.
"You okay, Ed?" Theodore asked suddenly, slightly concerned about his outgoing friend's sudden change in demeanour.
"Yeah, I'm fine," sighed Edmund. "It's just that I haven't really had much time to think about it this last fortnight. I guess it's only just occurred to me that I might never see home again."
"I'd try not to worry too much about it," said Theodore. "You'll only feel worse about it if you dwell on it."
"Theo's right, Ed," agreed Harry. "Getting yourself worked up about something never really does you any good, trust me. All you can really do is hope that everything works out and just get on with it."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," conceded Edmund. "Anyway, I suppose I should just go and finish packing. Malfoy and his cronies could do with a rude awakening anyway."
"Sounds good," replied Theodore, at which point they both turned around and went back the way they came, leaving Harry alone in the common room again, now hoping that he would never have to go through having to move house like Edmund was. Fortunately, Harry wasn't allowed time to think too much about either the idea of moving house or the contents of his dream earlier as The Guys came down the stairs soon after.
"Well, well, well," grinned Spencer. "Still an early riser, even on the last day. I don't suppose there's a reason for you being up so early, is there?"
"Not really," shrugged Harry. "What about you? Why're you down here? It's only twenty five past seven."
"We thought we'd play a goodbye prank on Garrett," said Blaise. "A simple trick combining the merits of Muggle stink bombs and a simple time-delay spell."
"Once Garrett's dressed, he'll have about five minutes before the delay expires," elaborated Roger. "After that, he'll stink worse than a curry-eater convention's communal latrine."
"Oh god, don't tell me you've joined in with their occasional pranking too," groaned Harry.
"Joined in?" said Roger. "I was the one that came up with this little scheme."
"Oh come on, Hal, since when did you go all authoritarian?" asked Blaise. "Besides, you know me and Spence have only played something like three pranks since we got here, not including this one on Garrett. That's less than you, I might add."
"Yeah," agreed Spencer. "WE haven't blasted Muggle rock music through the Great Hall, or given the PFBs new hairstyles in front of the whole school. Nor have we ever swapped the labels of Potions ingredients or spiked anyone's drink with Babbling Beverage… no, wait, we did that to Garrett last week. But we've only done that once. You did it to Malfoy… twice – poor git still checks his Pumpkin Juice every time he drinks it!"
"And what about that stunt you pulled on everyone while they were in detention?" added Blaise. "You know, the one with the sticking spell on the chairs and the 'touch them and your hair turns some random colour' desks?"
"Malfoy with purple and green polka dot hair…" laughed Roger. "That'll go with me to the grave, that will."
"It's a pity they had to cure it so soon," lamented Spencer. "Three days just wasn't long enough."
"Still, at least I have pictures," said Roger. "Now I just have to get them developed when I get home."
"Yeah, to Gruesome, right?" grinned Spencer.
"It's Grooseham," corrected Roger irritably. "I've noticed you haven't told us exactly where you live though. Same goes for you, Blaze. Don't tell me you live somewhere with an equally stupid name, do you?"
"Sorry Rodge, but no," said Blaise. "We're both right in the middle of Cambridgeshire, about three miles down the road from one another. Not exactly the most exciting place to live, but it's still a nice place."
"Not as good as Godric's Hollow though," interjected Harry. "A good few hills around us, less than ten miles from the coast and we even have a forest nearby – not too many of those in Pembrokeshire, I can tell you that. Add in the universally renowned friendliness of the Welsh and you really can't beat it."
"The Welsh?" said Spencer in a confused voice. "Oh yeah, I forgot, Godric's Hollow's in Wales, what with Godric Gryffindor being from 'the moors' and all."
"Gryffindor was Welsh?" exclaimed Blaise. "Ah, I suppose that explains why most of the Gryffindors are so…"
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence, Blaise," warned Harry half-jokingly. "Cymru an byth!"
"What?" responded Roger. "What on earth was that? What the hell is a 'coom-ree'?"
"It's Welsh, Rodge," answered Harry. "It's about the only bit of Welsh I know."
"Not much of a Welshman then, are you, if that's the only Welsh you know," noted Spencer.
"Well, I'm not much of a Slytherin either, so I guess I'm consistent at least," replied Harry.
"Oh, give it a rest with the self-depreciating humour already," said Blaise. "You're a perfectly good Slytherin, just not a good stereotypical one."
"Thanks Blaise… I think," was Harry's response.
"So what did that mean anyway?" Roger asked Harry. "The Welsh, I mean."
"It means 'Wales forever'," answered Harry. "It's the Welsh national motto."
"And that's the only Welsh you know?" said Spencer. "Some Welshman you are – you don't speak Welsh and you don't even sound Welsh."
"Another stereotype you don't conform to," added Blaise.
"Very funny," retorted Harry. "Come on, not all Welsh folk have that over the top accent people seem to think we have. Besides, having a mother from Surrey or Sussex or someplace beginning with 'su', might have something to do with me 'not sounding Welsh' too."
"Or maybe people just don't pay enough attention to actually notice," suggested Roger.
The conversation continued for another minute or so before coming to an abrupt stop as The Guys noticed The PFBs emerging from the stairway and left the common room, pausing to sneer slightly at the 'Mudblood-lovers' as they did so. However, as the portrait hole closed, The Guys heard a loud pop and a few surprised exclamations. There was much laughter at this from The Guys, which only confused the rest of the first years, as well as the other Slytherins, as they too came down for their dorms. The confusion didn't last too long though because of the rather unpleasant aroma that lingered just outside the common room entrance. Fortunately, the smell wasn't enough to put anyone off having breakfast…
XxXxXxXxXxX
"I wonder where Garrett's got to," wondered Blaise as he swallowed a mouthful of bacon.
"Dunno," replied Spencer. "Maybe he went to get a job in pest control. You know, have him sit in the middle of the garden for five minutes and you'd never have to de-gnome it ever again!"
"De-gnome?" said Roger curiously.
"Garden gnomes are living creatures in the wizarding world," explained Harry. "Annoying little buggers, they are too."
"You mean gnomes are real?" exclaimed Roger. "You're having me on!"
"We're not," said Spencer. "They most definitely exist, and getting rid of them isn't the best of pastimes either."
"What do you mean? How do you get rid of them?" Roger asked.
"Well, first you have to catch them," began Spencer. "Then you take them by the ankles and spin them 'round and 'round loads of times, then you let them go and send the pests flying."
"But… surely you're not allowed to do that!" stammered Roger. "That's just cruel!"
"It doesn't hurt them, Rodge," reassured Harry. "It just makes them too dizzy to find their way back to your garden for a while. Besides, they're far from harmless. See this finger?" Harry held up his right index finger. "That tiny little scar just above the knuckle was from one of those little buggers biting me, and I can tell you, when a gnome bites you, it hurts."
"I know what you mean," sighed Spencer. "I've got a couple of scars myself. Merlin, I hate those things. Even when Nathan pitches in and helps, they're still a real pain to take care of."
"I'm guessing you get most of the de-gnoming duty at home then," guessed Harry.
"Yeah, most of the time. You?" replied Spencer.
"Same," said Harry. "Michael occasionally gets roped into doing it, but it seems that fate has made me the official Potter family de-gnomer."
"Which'll probably continue for both of us," pointed out Spencer. "After all, we are in the same boat with our families – both our families have a tradition of being in a certain house and we've broken them by becoming 'nasty' Slytherins."
Reaching out for one last slice of toast, Harry sighed in agreement as the image of the word 'snake' being used in a conversation at home re-entered his mind. Why do I have a feeling it's going to be a long Christmas? Harry wondered with some dread.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"I wonder what it is that pulls these things," said Roger as the carriage seemingly pulled itself towards Hogsmeade station. "Any of you guys know?"
"Probably just some really powerful spell," guessed Blaise.
"Yeah. In fact, I heard, whatsisname, Finnegan…" began Spencer.
"Seamus Finnegan?" suggested Roger.
"Yeah, that's him. Our year, sandy hair, Gryffindor," continued Spencer. "Anyway, I overheard him say something about these things being charmed by Dumbledore himself. Then again, I heard a few Ravenclaws say something about it being Flitwick that does it."
"Well of course they'd say that," said Blaise. "He is their Head of House after all."
"So what d'you think Hal?" asked Roger. "Anything in that encyclopaedia you call a mind about horseless carts?"
"Only that Muggles called the first cars 'horseless carts'," replied Harry, though in all honesty, he really didn't want to join in the conversation – he had overheard someone say something about Thestrals being used at Hogwarts before starting school. At the time, he'd wondered what anyone would want to use an invisible-to-most-people creature for, but after seeing the first carriages begin to move, he realised that they were being pulled.
Thestral drawn carriages – most people would have a fit if they found out right now, thought Harry. Thestrals, being invisible to all except those who have witnessed and understood death, were considered dark by many. Harry understood that this perception was probably misplaced, but he still felt uncomfortable sitting so close to one as they approached the station.
"I wonder why they made it red," said Roger. "The train, I mean. Has it always been that colour?"
"Well, my dad said it was red, so it's probably been this colour since he was at school at least," answered Spencer. "Why?"
"No reason," replied Roger. "Just thought it was funny that they chose red with gold writing."
"You mean why did they choose Gryffindor colours?" asked Blaise in response.
"Maybe it's Dumbledore's doing," said Harry. "Apparently, he was a Gryffindor too. That's why most people want to end up in that house."
"So you reckon if the next Headmaster were a Ravenclaw, we'd have a blue and bronze train," theorised Roger. "And if, somehow, a Slytherin was allowed to become Headmaster, then we'd have a dark green and silver train."
"Not much chance of that," pointed out Blaise. "The only members of staff that were in Slytherin are Snape and Sinistra."
"Snape as Headmaster…" shuddered Roger. "God help the Gryffindors if that ever happens."
"Too true," agreed Spencer. "Well, just as long as Dumbledore's replacement isn't a Hufflepuff, otherwise we'd end up with the train looking like a bee or something – yellow and black… ugh!"
"Still better than Snape being Headmaster though," quipped Harry as their carriage came to a halt.
It only took The Guys a few minutes for them to find a suitable compartment near the back of the train. Heaving their luggage onto the luggage racks, they sat down and watched the chaos on the platform through the window.
"So, when're you gonna look at that Parchment thing the other Harry gave you?" asked Roger.
Harry sighed as the subject of the Lone Traveller's parchment came up once again. "Later," was his reply.
"You always say that," said Roger. "Look, you have to look at it sooner or later."
"That way, we'll at least know what it does," added Spencer. "You can't put it off forever, you know."
"Yeah, but…" protested Harry. "What if it's part of his mind? A copy of his memories and knowledge or something?"
"The knowledge of the Lone Traveller in a piece of parchment?" said Blaise. "Merlin, if that's what it is, then we'll be unstoppable!"
"Guys!" interrupted Harry. "You heard his story. Orphaned at age one, slept in a cupboard under the stairs for most of his childhood, saw everyone and everything destroyed by Voldemort, lost everything… do I really want a more in-depth look at all that?"
"Look, Hal," said Blaise, ignoring Spencer's shudder at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "He obviously gave it to you for a reason. He wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't want you to use it. Besides, he is you, remember?"
"He's not me, Blaise!" retorted Harry. "He's just some other me. He was an orphan and I'm not. He was an only child and I'm not. He was a Gryffindor and I'm not. He lost everyone he knew and cared about, and let me tell you now, I am not going to end up the same way!"
"But isn't that why he helped us in the first place?" said Roger. "He got us all those books from the library, he told all of us loads of important stuff and he gave you this mysterious parchment…"
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry!" Spencer suddenly shouted. "Just look at the bloody thing already!"
There was a slightly awkward silence between the four boys.
"Tonight," Harry muttered. "I'll do it tonight, the first chance I get."
Eventually, the train began to move, just as the compartment door opened.
"Hey, uh, Harry, you got a minute?" asked Michael.
For a few seconds, everyone present thought Harry would refuse. To their surprise however, Harry gave a positive answer and got up. After being led to an empty compartment about two doors down, Harry sat down opposite his twin brother and the two began to talk.
"So what's this all about?" asked Harry after a few seconds.
"Look, I, uh…" sighed Michael. "I need to know what I said to you last time we spoke."
"Uh, well, last time we spoke, you said 'hi' when we passed in a corridor on Wednesday," said Harry, though he knew what his brother was really talking about.
"That's not what I meant Harry," said Michael. "Look, I know we argued about something at Halloween and obviously it was bad enough to make Mum yell at me the way she did in front of everyone… you did hear, right?"
"That Gryffindor's Golden Boy got yelled at in the middle of the common room?" replied Harry. "Yeah, I heard a few rumours about it."
"I'm surprised that's all you heard," said Michael, ignoring the sarcastic nickname. "Merlin, if you thought those Howlers from Dad were bad, then we'd both better pray Mum never gets out the Howler Parchment. I swear, the walls were literally shaking!"
"I know," responded Harry. "I've been on the wrong end of Mum's anger more than you have, remember?"
"Oh yeah," laughed Michael. "Like that time she saw you right at the top of that Oak tree near the Llewellyns."
"The one and only time I've ever accepted one of your dares," Harry pointed out.
"Ah," Michael stopped laughing. "Well, anyway, what I'm saying is, what was it I said to you that was so terrible? It's been driving me nuts for over a month now. I remember us arguing, but I don't remember what it was all about. I know I said something about you being there to gloat, then one of us called the other a glory-seeker or something, then you said something else… 'Something I didn't do'. Am I right?"
Harry looked at his brother curiously, trying to work out what his brother's intentions were. Was this genuine or was he trying to get him in trouble later. After all, Harry hadn't mentioned his final Boy-Who-Lived related outburst, mainly because he knew it would spell nothing but trouble for him. Talking about Voldemort or anything dark was pretty much forbidden in the Potter household, especially for Harry for some reason. Annie not being allowed to talk about Death Eaters, Harry could understand due to his mother's protectiveness for her only daughter, but why wasn't he allowed to even mention the subject? Even if it was Michael who everyone else thought to be the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry had still been there. He still bore a scar created by dark magic, even if it was only thought of as being a side-effect of his proximity to Michael and Voldemort that night, so why was anything that could possibly considered dark a taboo subject where Harry was concerned? Why was it he had to hide his Parselmouth ability from his family out of feelings of self-preservation? What was it about Harry that meant he wasn't allowed to…
"Harry?" interrupted Michael, seeing the far-away look on his brother's face. "You okay?"
"Huh?" said Harry, snapping out of it. "Oh, sorry. Anyway, what were you saying?"
"The argument we had after Halloween," re-iterated Michael. "What happened?"
"Oh, that," said Harry. "Well, yeah, you're right, you did call me a show-off, just like most of your fellow Gryffindors seem to enjoy doing. When I mentioned the whole 'Harry is a show-off' thing to Mum, she just lost it and left the Hospital Wing."
"Oh," muttered Michael. "So I did deserve it after all. Looks like Hermione was right, as always."
"Where are they anyhow?" asked Harry, trying to divert Michael away from the subject of their Hospital Wing argument. "They not going home for Christmas or something?"
"Ron isn't," replied Michael. "Hermione and Neville are just down the corridor with Seamus, Dean, Parvati and Lavender."
"Oh god, those two…" mumbled Harry at the mention of the last two names. "Don't tell me you hang out with the Gryffindor Gossips."
"You mean Parvati and Lavender?" said Michael. "Yeah, sometimes. They're not that bad really, just as long as they're in a good mood, though I can see why you don't like them. In fact, Parvati almost loathes you now. Something about corrupting her sister or something like that."
"You mean Padma?" replied Harry. "Well, we have spoken a few times, mostly saying 'hi' in the corridor though, nothing for Parvati to 'worry' about."
"I think just talking to her is bad enough as far as Parvati's concerned," sighed Michael. "Merlin knows why they hate you so much. They haven't even met you, have they?"
"Nope," replied Harry. "Never. Then again, the fact I'm in Slytherin's probably reason enough for most folk."
"It's probably jealousy as well," said Michael. "Don't forget you're the highest point-scorer in Slytherin at the moment. After all, between winning the Quidditch match despite being jinxed and the fact that Flitwick in particular has nothing but good things to say about you, you haven't exactly made yourself popular with the other houses."
"They think I'm a Teacher's Pet?" concluded Harry.
"It certainly looks like it to some," nodded Michael. "I'm surprised though. You've never been one to let people know how good you are at stuff. Take Quidditch for example. At home you never really showed much interest in Quidditch, but less than a month into Hogwarts, you make history by becoming one of the youngest players ever. That being said, can you blame me for thinking that you might be showing off at times? I mean, you're the kind of person that always holds back. Remember when we were eight and you drew that picture of the hills around Godric's Hollow? The one I had to steal off you to show to Mum and Dad, at which point you tried to claim Annie had drawn it, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember," muttered Harry. "What's your point?"
"The point is, you're not a show off," said Michael. "So why do I hear all this stuff about you 'showing off' with all these advanced spells and wandless magic? Since when can you do wandless magic anyway? And why is it that everyone seems to know about it? Why aren't you holding back like you've always done?"
"I am holding back!" exclaimed Harry, though he instantly realised that he probably shouldn't have said that. Oh, bloody buggery bastardisation, he thought angrily. What the hell kind of Slytherin am I? I might as well forget learning Occlumency if I can't even keep my mouth shut…
"You mean... you are holding back?" said Michael. "But… that would mean… bloody hell, just how powerful are you?"
"Dunno," answered Harry truthfully. "Most of the stuff people say I can do is probably just exaggeration though." he added.
"Like people suddenly getting drenched at the flick of your hand?" smirked Michael. "Harry, you may be good at lying, but you're still my brother, no matter how much you may wish I wasn't."
"Where're you going with this?" asked Harry.
"Look, I'm just saying you should stop being so bloody modest all the time," said Michael. "And stop keeping so many things to yourself. Talk to us every once in a while. I mean, what harm could it do?"
Plenty, thought Harry, though he didn't say this out loud. Instead he just nodded and said nothing.
"I asked about it not too long ago," said Michael suddenly. "About the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, I mean."
"You spoke to Dumbledore?" replied Harry, wondering why Michael would do such a thing.
"Yeah," confirmed Michael. "I asked him why everyone was so sure everyone was so certain I was the Boy-Who-Lived."
"And what did he say?" asked Harry with genuine curiosity.
"Not much," sighed Michael. "All he'd say is that there was good reason, but he couldn't tell me until I was older."
"You're kidding – 'Sorry Michael, but I can't tell you why I concluded that you were the saviour of the wizarding world, at least, not until you're older'. What kind of crap is that?" exclaimed Harry.
"That's what I said," agreed Michael. "Though not quite as… bluntly as that."
Sure you didn't, thought Harry sarcastically. "So basically what you're saying is that Dumbledore's absolutely certain that you're the wizarding world's saviour, but he won't tell anyone why, am I right?"
"As far as I'm concerned, then yes, it does look that way," nodded Michael.
"I don't buy it," muttered Harry, shaking his head slightly. "He's hiding something – from both of us."
"I know," muttered Michael in agreement. "He mentioned you a few times too. Something about you being an obstacle or something like that. Why, hasn't he spoken to you or anything?"
"Just in the Hospital Wing," said Harry as the word 'obstacle' echoed through his mind. 'Obstacle'? As in 'someone who'll get in the way'? How dare he? That senile old…
"He said something about talking to you at some point…" mumbled Michael. He stopped suddenly. "Oh Merlin, that's what it was!"
"What was?" wondered Harry.
"I've just remembered he said something about coming to visit us over the holidays started," explained Michael. "Probably just to talk to Mum and Dad about something though, but he might want to talk to you as well. Maybe you might be able to get some answers then."
"Maybe," mumbled Harry doubtfully.
There was a long and awkward silence between the two of them. Sensing that the conversation was dead, Michael suggested that they talk later once they were at home. "Besides, the food trolley'll probably be here any minute now," added Michael as he left.
"Had a feeling you'd say something like that," muttered Harry as he too got up.
"Ah, so you decided to come back, did you?" smirked Blaise as Harry re-entered the compartment. "We were beginning to wonder where you'd got to."
"How long was it?" asked Harry as he sat down again.
"About twenty minutes," replied Roger.
"Twenty minutes?" said Harry disbelievingly. "That's all? Felt like an hour at least."
"So what did he say?" asked Spencer.
"A few things," replied Harry. "It seems that 'Alec' was right about Michael having doubts about him being the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Apparently, he asked Dumbledore about it not too long ago."
"Alec?" interjected Spencer. "Oh, right, the other you…"
"So what did Dumbledore tell him?" asked Blaise.
"Basically that there was a good reason, but he couldn't say anything until Michael was older," said Harry. "Oh, Michael also mentioned that Dumbledore'll probably be paying a visit over the holidays and that he'll probably want to talk to me."
"You mean Dumbledore's going to come to your house?" exclaimed Spencer.
"He's visited us before," shrugged Harry. "I've usually just stayed out of the way though. I'll probably try and do the same again, especially seeing as Dumbledore considers me an 'obstacle' now."
"He what?" spluttered Spencer, his opinion of Dumbledore falling slightly.
"Just something Michael mentioned," said Harry dismissively, though he too couldn't help but wish misfortune upon Dumbledore at that precise moment.
Luckily, the subject changed soon afterwards, though the topic of conversation always seemed to change a lot when The Guys were together. In fact, by the time the train arrived at King's Cross, The Guys had talked at great length about Quidditch, Snape, the holidays, the PFBs, their plans for when they got back to school and, strangely enough, the upcoming football World Cup, which, according to Roger, would be held in France next summer.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"Well, good luck at home," muttered Spencer as his older brother called him over.
"You too," replied Harry as Spencer made his way over to his family.
"Oh Merlin, my parents don't look too happy to see me," groaned Blaise as he spotted his parents, both sporting stern looks on their faces. "Guess I'd better go now. Talk to you guys later, okay?"
"Don't worry, Blaze, we will," said Roger reassuringly. "Well, I guess I'd better go and find my parents now. I'll see you after the holidays, Harry."
"See you, Rodge," responded Harry. "Have a good Christmas."
"You too," Roger called back as he disappeared into the crowd.
"And then there was one…" sighed Harry.
Suddenly, Harry felt something hit him on the back of his left leg.
"Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry…" he heard a voice say behind him. "Harry? Oh Merlin…"
"Don't worry about it," said Harry as he turned around and faced a very embarrassed Padma Patil. "These things are almost impossible to control anyway. Even those old Shooting Stars at Hogwarts with the handles smothered with Gambol & Japes 'Slippery Slime' would be easier to control than these accursed Luggage Trolleys."
"Just as long as the Slippery Slime stays on the brooms and off the floor," replied Padma. "Anthony thought it would be funny to see what would happen if he put a whole load of the stuff at the bottom of the girl's staircase this morning," she elaborated. "You can probably guess who came down the stairs first, can't you?"
"Yeah, I think so," said Harry, grimacing at the thought. "At least you won't have to worry about that at home."
"I suppose you're right," admitted Padma. "Though my cousins are visiting, and I wouldn't put anything past them…"
"Harry!" a voice suddenly interrupted. "He's over there, Mum!"
"My sister," sighed Harry, seeing the questioning look on Padma's face. "I should probably go. Have a good Christmas, Padma."
"You too, Harry," said Padma.
Walking towards his family, he saw that Michael had already found, or had been found by, Annie and his parents. However, Harry started to regret not staying at Hogwarts when he heard Annie's singsong voice proclaiming "Harry's got a girlfriend!"
Oh god… thought Harry. I'm probably going to have to put up with that for the next fortnight, especially if Dad and Michael join in, which they probably will… ah, crap! Sirius! He'll be the worst if they say anything in his presence!
"What's this I hear?" grinned James. "Could it possibly true? Harry's having to beat the girls off with a stick already?"
"No, Dad," sighed Harry. "It isn't true."
"Yeah, right…" mumbled Annie.
"Annie," said Harry plainly. "Over the last few months, I have learned a great many things, and right now, I've just learned that your brain is much like the Golden-Toothed Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
"In what way?" asked Annie in a confused voice.
"It doesn't exist," was Harry's razor-sharp response.
"Harry!" scolded Lily. "In fact, all of you, behave. And stop teasing Harry, James, and stop grinning Michael, it's not funny."
"Oh, come on Lils. Harry doesn't mind, do you Harry?" said James, still grinning.
"Do you want the blunt answer or the sarcastic answer?" muttered Harry, however, no one heard Harry say this.
"Well, come on," said Lily. "Let's get you boys home. Have you got all your stuff?"
"Yes, Mum," replied Michael. Harry looked behind him to check he had everything before nodding.
"Alright everyone," said James, holding out what looked like a notepad. "We're going by Portkey," he added for Harry and Michael's benefit. "On the count of three…"
When his father said 'three', everyone placed a hand on the notepad. Harry felt the usual uncomfortable jerk in his stomach as the family of five disappeared from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and re-appeared just outside their house in Godric's Hollow.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Well, I suppose it could've been worse, thought Harry as he entered the bedroom he shared with his brother and sat down in front of the desk next to the window.
Since arriving home, Harry had been able to keep himself in the background for the most part, though he'd still had questions directed his way, mostly about Quidditch from his father. Even at dinner, he had managed to keep the subject of discussion on Hogwarts in general, rather than anything that had happened to Harry, though the subject of Draco Malfoy's broken nose did come up. Fortunately, he had received a slight apology when he told his parents the spell Malfoy had been trying to cast, but was also told that breaking Malfoy's nose was still going too far, no matter what the circumstances.
Annie, of course, had been eager to hear all there was to hear about Hogwarts, especially when it came to life as a Gryffindor, which meant that Michael received most of the questions from the youngest of the Potters. Harry, the odd sarcastic quip aside, had simply kept quiet and ate his food. Eventually, he had managed to excuse himself after dinner to unpack, which he started to do after a few minutes alone in his room.
Opening the trunk, Harry realised that he might as well leave most of his stuff in the trunk, as he would be going back to Hogwarts in just over a fortnight. In fact, he realised that it would probably be best to just leave most of his stuff in his trunk. However, as he went to close it, he noticed something – a blank piece of parchment.
Ah, crap, I promised the others I'd look at this thing first chance I got, sighed Harry. Setting an alarm spell of his own creation on the door as he closed it, Harry sat down on his bunk with the parchment in his hand and looked at it. Well, here goes nothing…
"I seek the advice of The Lone Traveller."
Though the parchment glowed for a split-second, nothing seemed to happen. He tried again.
"I seek the…"
"Yes, I heard you, Hal," interrupted a familiar voice.
Harry looked up and saw, standing next to the door, what looked like some kind of projection of his leather-jacket wearing other self. "Alec!" gasped Harry.
"Of course," grinned the semi-translucent figure. "You weren't expecting someone else, were you?"
"Um…" said Harry hesitantly. "To be honest, I wasn't really expecting anybody. Writing that suddenly appears on the page, maybe, but not this!"
"Don't worry," reassured the projection. "I can do that too if you need me to, though I'd prefer if you only went for that option if you didn't want anyone to see me."
"Um… okay," replied Harry uncertainly. "So… you're a projection. Um… anything else I should know?"
"Well, as I said, I can make writing appear on that parchment," replied 'Alec'. "Oh, and I sort of act like a pensieve."
"A what?" said Harry.
"Pensieve," elaborated 'Alec'. "It's normally a little bowl you can put some excess memories in. It's usually used in trials when a witness testifies. Looks cool too, like a silvery swirling liquid."
"Right…" nodded Harry. "And what do you do with the 'silvery swirling liquid'?"
"If it's in a pensieve, you usually just dunk your head in the liquid and the next thing you know, you're actually in someone's memory," said 'Alec'. "It's quite an interesting experience, just as long as you know what's happening the first time 'round. I can tell you, the first time I encountered one of those things was pretty unnerving until the real Albus turned up and explained what was going on."
"Albus? Oh, right, Dumbledore…" said Harry "So you can do the same thing? You can show people your memories?"
"If I managed to get it right, then yes," confirmed 'Alec'. "You want me to show you?"
"No!" exclaimed Harry, his dream from the morning stills fresh in his mind. "Sorry… I just don't really want to see the world destroyed or something like that."
"I don't blame you," sighed 'Alec'. "The Second War wasn't a particularly enjoyable for anyone involved." The projection looked at Harry for a second. "Well, if you don't want to see the future, then how about the past?"
"What d'you mean?" asked Harry.
"Memories from my childhood," replied 'Alec'. "From before I went to Hogwarts. Before I knew I was a wizard."
"You mean when you were living with my Aunt Petunia?" queried Harry. "Didn't you say they made you sleep in a cupboard under the stairs?"
"They did," nodded Harry. "Just thought it might give you a glimpse of what could have been. Maybe it'll cheer you up knowing your life's been so much better than mine was."
Oh great, a glimpse of his miserable sounding childhood, thought Harry. Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt, just as long as he doesn't show me anything too terrible. "Alright," said Harry. "But nothing too disturbing."
"Alright, I'll try," was the reply before a bright flash filled Harry's eyes.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"Boy!" yelled an angry voice. "Get in here now and earn your keep for once!"
Harry looked around at what looked like the foyer of a suburban home belonging to a fairly well off family. Everything looked neat and tidy, all the pictures on the wall were nice and straight, any and all jackets were hung up and even the flowers in the vase next to one of the doors were neat and trimmed. Chances were that at least one person in this house was obsessed with cleanliness, Harry thought.
Suddenly, Harry noticed a door opening from just under the stairs. Slowly and wearily, a small boy with dark, scruffy hair and taped up glasses stepped out and headed for the source of the angry voice hesitantly. Though it took a few seconds, Harry quickly realised that the boy was his other self, especially when he re-opened the door through which the boy had just come and looked inside. As he suspected, inside was a small cupboard. Frowning slightly at what he saw, Harry leaned forward slightly. There was nothing of note except for a thin mattress, an even thinner blanket and an lot of dust. There were no books, no toys, no possessions that Harry could see, nothing – just a dusty cupboard.
Perturbed slightly by his other self's sleeping place, Harry was tempted to just pull out of the memory right now. However, something compelled him to go into the kitchen where he found his other self busy washing some dishes under the watchful eye of a rather large, unpleasant looking man with perhaps the most ridiculously large moustache Harry had ever seen. As Harry stood in front of the man, waving a hand in front of the man's unseeing eyes, the man suddenly spoke.
"Be careful with those dishes, boy!" he warned. "Break any of them and you'll be in that cupboard for a week!"
"Well, at least he can fit in that cupboard, fatso!" retorted Harry, though he realised that no one could hear him. However, someone replied to his insult.
"If I'd said that, I'd've never seen the light of day again," said an echoing disembodied voice – Alec's.
"Alec?" exclaimed Harry, startled slightly by the voice. "Where are you?"
"In your room, standing right in front of you," replied the disembodied voice.
"Oh," said Harry. "So, uh… I'm guessing this is my uncle, right?"
"Indeed it is, kiddo," confirmed the voice of Harry's other self. "Vernon Dursley, husband of Petunia, father of Dudley and Director of Grunnings."
"Grunnings?" queried Harry.
"A drill-making company," elaborated Alec. "Though the way he talked about it, you'd think it was more important than the United Nations and the Red Cross combined."
Harry looked at the large man, who was now reading a newspaper.
"The Daily Mail?" said Harry. "Doesn't really give 'em a particularly good image if he's a typical reader…"
Harry turned and watched Alec's younger self as he struggled to wash the dishes without dropping any. After about ten seconds, Harry could see at least three things wrong with the scene before him.
First, there was the fact that the other him couldn't be more than six or seven years old. Indeed, the boy had to stand on his tiptoes just to see into the sink. There was absolutely no way this boy should be trying to wash any dishes, nor should he have been allowed to.
Second, Harry couldn't help but wonder why Vernon was so concerned with broken dishes, yet didn't lift a finger to help his other self, who was literally having to reach over the sink just to get at the dishes in question.
The third thing that Harry noticed really acted as the icing on the cake – in the corner of the kitchen, there was what appeared to be a perfectly functional Dishwasher.
"Unbelievable!" gasped Harry incredulously. "What kind of people…"
Suddenly, there was a crash as a plate slipped out of the other Harry's hand. Vernon Dursley's reaction was instantaneous.
"What do you think you're doing, boy!" he yelled, the vein in his forehead starting to become more pronounced. "These plates are worth more than you are, you little freak! Get out of my sight before I hurt you!"
"I… I'm sorry Uncle Vernon…" the boy stammered fearfully. "I… I didn't mean to…"
"What's going on in here?" said a new voice. Harry turned and saw a rather bony-faced woman enter the kitchen. The woman stopped suddenly when she saw the broken plate on the floor. "What have you done?" she shrieked.
Harry marvelled slightly that his glasses didn't break at the high-pitched voice of the woman, no doubt his Aunt Petunia, as she proceeded to scold, as well as insult, his other self before grabbing the other Harry roughly and leading him to the cupboard under the stairs. Despite the boy's protests and apologies, the cupboard door was slammed shut and locked.
As he watched Petunia Dursley go back to the kitchen, muttering under her breath as she went, Harry simply stood there, scarcely able to believe what he'd just seen. Inside the dusty cupboard in front of him, there was the one person whose life probably couldn't get any worse. The other him was no older than seven years old, yet he was expected to wash dishes, and do god knew what else, and whose bedroom was a dust-filled cupboard. Harry had only been inside this memory for about five minutes, but already he wanted to leave, especially if this was what the Lone Traveller considered 'nothing too disturbing'.
Suddenly, Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the Lone Traveller.
"Hey, uh, Hal, I'm hearing a fairly loud whistling sound coming from the door. Is that normal?"
Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Oh Merlin, the proximity alarm! Someone's coming!" he exclaimed. "Quick! Get me out of here!"
"Alright," replied Alec's voice. "Hold on…"
XxXxXxXxXxX
Harry blinked slightly as he found himself back in his bedroom. Sure enough, there was a sharp, but not too loud whistling sound coming from the door. Harry quickly waved his hand in the direction of the door and the noise stopped. 'Alec' however, was nowhere to be seen. Before Harry could pause to wonder where the projection had gone, the door opened and in came Michael.
"Hey, bro'," said Michael. "Don't suppose you could take a turn regaling Annie with tales of Hogwarts and all its wonders, could you?"
"Still going, is she?" Harry asked, trying to sound as if he hadn't seen his alternate self being mistreated by his aunt and uncle.
"Yep," nodded Michael. "Still going, and with no signs of stopping either."
"And you expect me to go downstairs knowing that?" said Harry.
"Um… well, yeah, please," said Michael.
"Fine," sighed Harry. "I'll be down in a minute, okay?"
"Thanks, bro'," said Michael before leaving the bedroom.
Closing the door behind his brother slightly, Harry glanced around but couldn't see 'Alec's' projection anywhere.
"Where…?" Harry began to mutter.
"Don't worry, kid, I'm still here," interrupted a voice that seemed to echo through Harry's mind, startling him slightly. "Oh, I forgot to mention, I can communicate with you mentally too. Just thought you should know."
"Oh, um… thanks," said Harry uncertainly, still perturbed by the contents of 'Alec's' memory. "Um… I should probably go now. I'll, uh, talk to you later, okay?"
"Fair enough,." Harry heard 'Alec's' voice responded.
"Thanks for the advice," said Harry, deactivating the parchment. However, as Harry left his bedroom, he felt something shuddering in his pocket. Dipping his hand in said pocket, Harry pulled out the mirror and flipped it open.
"Hal?" said Spencer from the other end. "You there?"
"No, Spence, this is Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," replied Harry sarcastically.
"Ah, Minister," responded Spencer in an equally sarcastic manner. "Yes, sorry, I must've got a wrong mirror. Never mind…"
"No, no, not at all," said Harry. "I could do with some intelligent every once in a while, but I suppose you'll have to do."
"Don't think you'd get many votes if you said that, Hal," was Spencer's reply. "So how're things going?"
"Not too bad," said Harry. "I managed to have a look at that parchment and it turns out I was right – it does hold a copy of the other me's mind, complete with projection of Alec himself and his memories to boot."
"Seriously?" exclaimed Spencer. "Merlin, that's great!"
"Not when you see about five minutes of his childhood," muttered Harry.
"That bad?" asked Spencer.
"Probably worse," said Harry. "He said he'd 'try' and show me something that wasn't too disturbing, so if what he showed me was a good day, then I don't think I really want to see the rest."
"Fair enough, Hal, just as long as we know what that thing does now," said Spencer. "Anyway, I thought I'd better see how you were doing, 'cause I'm already regretting coming home."
"Why? You're parents aren't giving you a hard time, are they?" said Harry.
"Not too bad," said Spencer, echoing Harry's words. "It's mostly Granddad. He and Nan are staying for Christmas – that's why I had to come home. Anyway, he's been going on about me not being a Hufflepuff and the fact that I'm a 'dirty' Slytherin. Nathan's not exactly been too brotherly either."
"Well, I suppose you could tell them that if they don't stop the pro-Hufflepuff and anti-Slytherin propaganda, then I shall see to it that Hufflepuff suffer the most humiliating defeat in the entire history of Hogwarts Quidditch," replied Harry.
The image of Spencer grinned slightly at this. "Maybe I will, if I'm feeling suicidal," he said jokingly. "Anyhow, I'd better go – my Hufflepuff relations beckon."
"As, no doubt, will my Gryffindor relations if I don't make my presence known soon," said Harry. "Talk to ya' later, Spence."
Harry watched Spencer's head nod before the image vanished. Closing the mirror and pocketing it again, Harry began walking down the stairs just as he heard someone coming up them.
Oh god, thought Harry as his little sister began to talk to him. If she says the word 'girlfriend', she's going through an upstairs window…
"Harry? What's wrong?" asked Annie, confused by the look on her brother's face.
"Nothing," muttered Harry. "Why, what's up?"
"Nothing," replied Annie. "We were just wondering where you'd got to. So, are you coming down or what?"
"Yeah, I'm coming down," sighed Harry. "On one condition," he added. "Don't start asking me stuff about what it's like at Hogwarts. We've all visited Hogwarts before and you'll see what it's like to go to school there yourself. You've only got a year and a half to wait now."
"But that's ages away!" whined Annie. "I want to know what it's like, learning magic, flying lessons, all that stuff Dad's told us that's there…"
"And you'll see it all for yourself, Annie," interrupted Harry. "Besides, it's pretty overrated anyway."
"You're just saying that," mumbled Annie.
"Well, actually, once you've been there a while, the novelty does kinda wear off," said Harry. "But can we please talk about something other than Hogwarts now?"
"Okay," said Annie as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "So, who was that girl you were speaking to earlier?"
"Although, I am starting to miss Hogwarts a bit right about now," muttered Harry in response to this as the two entered the living room. "Look, her name's Padma, we've known each other since the beginning of November and she's one of the few non-Slytherins that don't call me a show-off, okay? Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity?"
"What're you talking about, bro'?" asked Michael, noting Harry's sharp tone.
"Doesn't matter…" muttered Harry as he sat down.
"Fair enough," replied Michael. "Oh, by the way, Sirius's coming tomorrow…"
As he heard this, Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed quietly. "Great…" he mumbled to himself.
"Oh, come on, Sirius isn't that bad," protested Michael, defending his godfather.
"He will be now in the company of a Slytherin," mumbled Harry. "As soon as the subject of me being in Slytherin comes up, he and Dad'll probably start reminiscing about all their pranks on 'Snivellus', then ask me what it's like to have a 'greasy git' like Snape as a Head of House, mark my words."
"You're just being cynical Harry," said Michael. "I'll betcha you they don't. Maybe later in the evening or when all the Marauders are together, but not as soon as you seem to think."
"You really think so?" smirked Harry. "Alright then, you're on. First mention of Slytherin, Dad and Sirius'll do exactly as I've just said. Two Galleons to the winner."
"Two Galleons," repeated Michael as the two brothers shook hands on the bet.
Idiot, thought Harry. This'll be the easiest two Galleons a person could ever make. Well, at least I'll be getting something from having to see Sirius or having to make sure Dominic and Gregory don't wreck the place… wait a second…
"What about Remus? Is he coming too?" Harry asked.
"Not tomorrow," answered Michael. "Everyone else's coming on Monday."
Oh great, two whole days until I get to see Remus, thought Harry angrily when he heard this. Oh well, at least it's not cold enough to not go out if I dress warmly…
Glancing at Annie, he noticed that she wasn't too pleased at this news that she would have to wait two whole days to see her own godfather, whom she loved dearly, as well. Still, it was only two days, which really wasn't that long.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"He doesn't look like he's happy to be home, does he?" sighed Lily after the children had gone to bed.
"Who, Harry? Oh, he's probably just had a long week or something," said James. "He does look like he hasn't had much sleep. Maybe he'll be more cheerful in the morning."
"What about Sirius?" said Lily. "If he makes any jokes about Harry being a Slytherin…"
"Oh, Harry knows that nothing Sirius ever says should ever be taken too seriously," replied James.
"I hope you're right James," said Lily.
"Don't worry, Lils," re-assured James. "Everything's going to be just fine."
"But what about Dumbledore?" replied Lily. "You know he's coming here on Sunday and that he wants to talk to Harry while he's here…"
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," said James, though he wasn't entirely convinced himself.
"But what if it is?" asked Lily.
"Then we'll deal with it when we have to," said James.
"But what if it has something to do with the prophecy?" continued Lily. "I don't want to lose him…"
By this point, Harry had heard enough. Quietly, he sneaked away from the living room door and walked stealthily up the stairs up to his room. His brother was already asleep, which is why Harry unlocked and opened his trunk as quietly as he could before grabbing the Lone Traveller's Parchment and leaving the bedroom.
"I seek the advice of The Lone Traveller," Harry muttered as he sat on the bed of the main guest bedroom. Once again, the parchment glowed for a second and the projection of the Lone Traveller appeared in front of Harry.
"Hey there, kid," he grinned. "What can I do ya' for?"
"What do you know about a prophecy?" asked Harry.
"Prophecy?" said 'Alec'. "Ah, yes, the prophecy…"
"Mum mentioned it downstairs," elaborated Harry. "She said something like 'I don't want to lose him' when she mentioned it…"
"Hmm…" said 'Alec' thoughtfully. "Okay, before I say anything else, who does Neville Longbottom live with in the reality?"
"Neville?" exclaimed Harry, wondering what he had to do with anything. "He lives with his parents. Why? Didn't he in your… reality?"
"No," said the projection, shaking it's head. "His parents were crucio'd into insanity when some Death Eaters found out about the prophecy. You're saying that didn't happen here?"
"No, it didn't," replied Harry. "In fact, the Longbottoms are close family friends of ours."
"In which case, the prophecy in this reality's different then," concluded 'Alec'. "Different enough for the Lestranges and Crouch Junior not to conclude it meant Neville."
"What're you talking about?" Harry asked.
"The prophecy in my reality talked about the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord being born as the seventh month ended, and because I was born on the 31st and Neville on the 30th of July, that meant the prophecy appeared to apply to one of us," explained 'Alec'. "And because Neville was a Pureblood, it was assumed by the Death Eaters that the prophecy meant him. That's why he ended up being raised by his grandmother."
"But it didn't apply to Neville, did it?" concluded Harry.
"No. Riddle only knew the first few lines of the prophecy," replied 'Alec'. "His spy never heard the bit about the child in question being 'marked' the Dark Lord's equal." At this point, the projection tapped the scar on it's forehead. "By killing my parents and trying to kill me, Riddle chose his equal, and eventual vanquisher."
"And you think the same applies to me," said Harry as he traced the outline of his own scar.
"Depends…" sighed 'Alec'. "It would make sense if Mum… sorry, your Mum is really worried about losing you, but then again, it's your brother who everyone thinks is the Boy-Who-Lived here, so there's probably something about 'the saviour's brother' in there too, maybe something about the saviour's brother making a great sacrifice or something."
"How'd you figure that?" asked Harry, curious as to why his other self was sounding a bit like an amateur seer.
"Hey, just because I failed Divination doesn't mean I don't still know a thing or two about it!" replied 'Alec' defensively. "Oh, and whatever you do, don't take Divination. The subject's a load of rubbish and Trelawney'll probably end up predicting your gruesome and horrific death every lesson. In fact, I think Ron said it best actually – 'if I'd died the number of times she said I would, I'd be a medical miracle'… or was it me who said that? I Suppose it doesn't matter either way…"
For a few seconds, Harry laughed at this, but stopped as something occurred to him. "That must be it," he muttered.
"What is?" queried 'Alec'.
"Michael mentioned he'd asked Dumbledore why everyone was so sure he was the Boy-Who-Lived," said Harry. "He said Dumbledore had a good reason, but he wouldn't tell him what that reason was. D'you reckon it has anything to do with any prophecy?"
"It could well be," nodded 'Alec'. "It took my Dumbledore until the end of fifth year for him to tell me, and that was only after I found out that there was some kind of prophecy. In fact, it was over a year after Riddle was resurrected too…"
"Hold on…" interrupted Harry. "Who's Riddle? That's twice you've said that name now."
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," responded 'Alec'. "Voldemort's real name, named after his Muggle father."
"Muggle?" exclaimed Harry. "You mean… Voldemort's a Half-blood?"
"Ironic, isn't it?" smirked 'Alec'. "The leader of the Death Eaters, whose sole purpose was to wipe out all Muggles, Muggle-borns and anyone remotely connected to Muggles, was in fact the son of a Muggle."
"Bloody hell!" mumbled Harry. "All this time I thought he was just another 'I'm-better-than-you' Pure-blood, when really, he's one of the biggest hypocrites that ever lived."
"Speaking of which, what's the situation with him just now?" asked 'Alec'.
"You mean Quirrell?" replied Harry. "Not much. I know he hasn't made his move yet, and I still haven't found out what this 'stone' is that he's after either. In fact, I've really just been spending the last few weeks staying out of his way and trying to learn as much from those books you suggested."
"You've got your own copies?" asked 'Alec'.
"Yeah," answered Harry. "The day after you left, Pince noticed the books were missing. I managed to sneak off the Diagon Alley using some Floo and get some replacements while The Guys planted the books on some of our 'fellow' Slytherins."
"Fair enough," nodded 'Alec'. "So what now?"
"Well, Sirius's coming tomorrow, Merlin help us…" began Harry.
"What's wrong with Sirius?" interrupted 'Alec', sounding slightly offended.
"He'll comes in here, probably throw some not-so-subtle anti-Slytherin barbs in my direction and his kids are pests, that's mostly what's wrong," replied Harry.
There was a slight pause, after which 'Alec' simply said, "Sirius has kids?" in an almost disbelieving voice.
"Yeah, Dominic and Gregory," sighed Harry. "Dominic's the same age as Annie… nine." he added in for 'Alec's' benefit. "… and Gregory's seven. Bloody pests, both of them. Still, at least Nicholas, Emily and Samantha aren't too bad…"
"Who…?" 'Alec' began to ask.
"Remus and Peter's children." replied Harry.
"Peter? Peter Pettigrew!" exclaimed 'Alec'.
"Yes, Peter Pettigrew, Annie's godfather…" began Harry, wondering what the big deal was.
"Oh my god…" groaned 'Alec'.
"What?" said Harry irritably. "What's wrong?"
'Alec' responded with a sigh. "He never joined the Death Eaters in this reality, am I right?"
"What? Death Eaters? No, of course he didn't!" Harry almost shouted.
"And was he your parents' secret keeper here?" continued 'Alec'.
"Yes, he was!" replied Harry. "That's why the Death Eaters kidnapped and tortured him!"
"Torture?" gasped 'Alec'.
"Yes, torture!" responded Harry. "That's why he's only got one eye and seven fingers! Even now he feels guilty about giving in and betraying us!"
"Alright, alright, alright, I'm sorry," said 'Alec' quickly. "It's just… well… he betrayed my parents in my reality. Did a lot worse afterwards too – framed my godfather and got him locked up in Azkaban for twelve years, took part in Riddle's resurrection, killed Remus, ended up getting shot in the head by yours truly… you can see why I don't particularly like him, can't you?"
After seeing his other self's memories earlier on, Harry didn't think anything about 'Alec's' life could shock him even more than 'Alec's' childhood, yet there he was, sitting on the bed in one of the guest bedrooms, shocked beyond belief – 'Alec's' version of Peter was a traitor. Because of the other Peter, the other version of Sirius, who by the sound of things, was 'Alec's' godfather, had been locked away in Azkaban for over a decade. Also, the other version of Harry's own godfather had apparently been murdered… by Peter. Harry simply couldn't believe it – the Peter he knew would never have, and indeed hadn't, done anything like the other one apparently did.
"Maybe we should continue this some other time," suggested 'Alec' when he saw that his other self probably wasn't feeling very talkative any more.
Harry nodded slightly in response before placing his hand on the parchment. "Thanks for the advice."
"Any time," replied 'Alec' as he vanished, leaving Harry alone as his mind attempted to digest everything he'd heard tonight about Voldemort, prophecies and his sister's godfather. Eventually, however, Harry decided he should probably go to bed, especially after he saw that it was nearly one in the morning.
Bloody hell, was his last thought before going to sleep.
-
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Thanks for all the suggestions concerning Godric's Hollow.
Remus and Peter are not a couple in this. Nicholas & Emily are Remus's children and Samantha is Peter's daughter.