Harry James Potter had hoped to be treated equally by his father. After all, while his twin brother Luka was the famous boy who lived, Harry himself was the infamous Boy who died.

Yep. The boy who died. Hadrian himself had been surprised when he found that particular piece of information in "The recent acts of historical debacles for children" when he was five. But the book hadn't specified anymore than the fact that the youngest Potter twin was the boy who died and the oldest was the boy who lived, and Hadrian was still confused as to why his father treated him the way he did. Until one day when he was eight, his godfather Remus explained it to him. Actually, 'explained' isn't the right word. More like 'showed'. Remus had to sneak the pensive past James, but he felt it necessary to show his godson the true root of James's hate. Hadrian started in awe at the silvery material that Remus pulled with his wand.

"Harry, you know what a pensive is, right?"

Harry just raised an eyebrow as if to say "Seriously?"

"Okay, that was a stupid question. Of course you know what a pensive is," Remus said, running his fingers through his hair.

He's nervous, noted Harry.

"Do I need to be worried about what you're about to show me?" He asked the now pacing Remus who jerked at the question.

"No? Maybe a little? Actually, I don't think this is a good idea.. should we wait till your older-Harry-Harry what are you doing!"

Harry had already submerged his head into the makeshift cauldron before Remus could change his mind. With a mutter that sounded strangely like "wonder where he gets that from" Remus followed Harry in.

The moment Harry sunk his head in, he found himself outdoors, in a grassy clearing, with a small crowd of wizards surrounding a pedestal in the center. A wedding? He wondered. No. Certainly not. The mood was too solemn. The clothes would have been brighter- Wait a second. The clothes. They were all wearing black.

"A funeral," Harry muttered, eyes forming into slits with his realization.

"Yes, Harry. Your funeral," Remus said from behind him.

Harry was about to ask him what he meant, but the words disappeared like a snitch when he recognized his mother. He gravitated towards her, unconsciously, moving past the crowds of solemn guests whose faces seemed vaguely familiar. Her beautiful young face was clouded with sorrow and her fiery red hair was pulled back in a hastily tied bun. A younger James held her hand, standing next to her, looking as handsome as always, even with the bags under his eyes. Even though he knew it was just a memory, it still hurt when Lily didn't look at him, and instead turned her attention to the bundle clutched to her chest. With a closer look, he recognized it as a baby.

Me or Luka?

He stepped around his father and stood right in front of his mother.

So close, he thought longingly staring at her.

But she's gone, as his father had yelled whenever he got drunk.

Tearing his eyes away, he instead focused on finding out who the baby was. The hazel eyes that set the two of them apart were gazing into his green ones, and harry was startled before he remembered that nobody could see him now. The baby wasn't looking at him, but only staring blankly into space.

But if this is Luka then where am I?

All of a sudden, Remus's words struck him.

'Your funeral'

Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped around his parents to the tiny casket, in which the corpse that was identical to Luca laid. It can't be. Is that me? This doesn't make sense.

All of a sudden, a gust of wind tore through the crowd, knocking them to their feet. Harry was about to turn to see if his parents were okay, but a flash of green light blinded him. A chorus of screams echoed behind him. One even threatened to escape his throat but he swallowed it. He was used to holding back his screams. When the blinding brightness no longer pierced the back of his eyes, he tentatively opened them. This time, he, like his parents-No. Like James and Lily, could not resist a scream.

The body of the toddler-he refused to accept that it was him-was surrounded by a eerie green light, and its eyelids were open, revealing the unnatural eyes of the same color.

It was alive.

The green glow disappeared so fast that he wondered if it was there in the first place or if he'd just imagined it. But then the baby started wailing, as if it was just any other innocent toddler. And another wail joined in. Harry turned around, to find Luca on the floor, crying, having fallen from lily's arms when she had collapsed on the floor.

The pensive Remus, was at her side, his fingers pressed against her throat. He shook his head, not meeting James's eyes. "She's not breathing! It killed her-She's dead-" James choked on his words, tears now freely falling from his eyes. The three remaining potters all cried together that day. All of them. Little did they know that that would be the last day they willingly did anything together.

Harry found himself kneeling on the cold floor, his pale face reflected in the silver mercury like liquid.

He had always been paler than his twin, but had never thought much about it. Pale as a corpse, his father had said disdainfully. How ironic that he was an actual corpse

"That's why they call you the boy who died. While your brother survived the attack with Voldemort, you didn't. You died, but then you came back on your funeral," Remus said quietly. Harry had forgotten Remus was there.

"And my father hates me because I killed my mother," Harry said, adding the unspoken words.

Remus flinched at the bluntness of the statement, but didn't deny it.

"Moony! Where are you?" James's voice carried through the large manor.

"Coming, Prongs!" Remus called out, packing everything up with a flick of his wand, "Be careful around your father, Harry."

"He's not my father," Harry sneered, but Remus was already gone.