SUMMARY
After spending half his life trying to rid the world of Voldemort, Harry Potter finally succeeds. However, the price has been high. Too high. Unfortunately, when Harry risks his life to go back and 'do things right', something goes wrong.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank…
S'TarKan – It was his story that gave me the idea for this story's starting point. Also, if you want to know what kind of Harry Potter my main character is (they've had similar experiences, losses etc), or just want to read a good Harry Potter fanfic, then read 'Harry Potter & the Nightmares of Futures Past'.
The creators of QUANTUM LEAP and SLIDERS – Anyone who's seen either of these shows might recognise elements of both shows central ideas in this story. The situation my Harry gets himself into was indeed partially inspired by the central features of both of these shows.
This website – For providing a forum where people like me can write stuff that people will actually get to see.
J.K. Rowling – They are her characters after all.
CHAPTER SIX – The House of the Serpent.
"Is it okay if I sit here?" asked a red-haired boy with freckles.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.
"Yeah, it's okay," said a boy with untidy brown hair and hazel eyes.
Harry looked at his near-identical twin brother, trying to hide his frustration. Can't he let me speak, just for once? Harry wondered as he regarded his slightly older brother. Why does him being a bloody celebrity mean I'm not even allowed to speak? As his brother began speaking to the red-haired boy, who Harry soon recognised as being one of the Weasleys, Harry glanced at the scar across his brother's forehead. It was a lot bigger and more ragged than his own, which was smaller and tidier, if such a word could be applied to a scar. Harry knew exactly how his brother had received that gash across his forehead – he had relived that fateful Halloween night in his dreams many times. As the Dark Lord Voldemort tried to kill Harry with an Avada Kedavra, the spell had rebounded, most of it annihilating the Dark Lord's body. Some of the curse, however, had sent several large splinters of wood from the cot flying everywhere. One such piece of wood had collided with Harry's twin, leaving a large, jagged, almost lightning shaped scar across his brother's head. Since then, Michael Stephen Potter had become famous the world over as 'The Boy Who Lived', the one who had vanquished Voldemort.
Meanwhile, the real 'Boy Who Lived' gets ignored. thought Harry bitterly. Though this was a slight exaggeration, it was true to the extent that his brother had always received more than his fair share of parental attention, and as such, Harry yearned to break free of his brother's shadow and prove himself. I'll show them, Harry thought. They'll have to notice me when I out-perform him in just about everything. Harry was looking forward to his parents seeing his first report. After all, he had not spent his life moping and sulking about his twin's unearned fame and attention. He had raided the library in their house in Godric's Hollow and had learnt as much as he possibly could. Right now, as he was about to enter his first year at Hogwarts, his knowledge was probably on par with that of a second or third year, or perhaps even a fourth year.
Harry was distracted from his thoughts as the compartment door opened and a girl with long, bushy hair entered. "Have you seen a Toad anywhere?" she asked. Everyone present shook their heads. She then resumed the search for the errant Toad as the Weasley, who had identified himself as being Ron Weasley, was trying to turn his pet rat yellow, using a spell one of his older brothers had apparently given him. The girl, hearing the obviously fake spell, commented on it before introducing herself as 'Hermione Granger'.
"Ron Weasley," said Ron, his ears going red with embarrassment at Hermione's comment about the fake spell.
"I'm Michael," said Harry's brother. "Michael Potter, and this is my little brother, Harry."
Harry closed his mouth again. Merlin, can't he even let me introduce myself? I mean, he hasn't let me say a damn word since we got on this train. thought Harry irritably. And since when am I his 'little' brother. Yes, I am younger than him by, like, two minutes, but I'm his TWIN brother, not his 'little' brother!
A few minutes later, the owner of the lost Toad, joined them in the compartment. Harry and Michael already knew Neville Longbottom – both their families were good friends. They all started to talk, except for Harry, who didn't seem to be a part of the conversation, no matter how hard he tried to join in. Eventually, after yet another interruption by Michael, Harry got up and went to leave the compartment.
"Hey, bro'," said Michael. "Where're you going?"
Harry glared at his brother, but said nothing and left the compartment.
"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked, confused.
Michael shrugged. "Dunno," he said plainly. "I gave up trying to understand him a long time ago."
XxXxXxXxXxX
Harry walked through the train until he found a compartment that wasn't full. The sole occupant looked up as Harry entered.
"Is it okay if I sit here?" Harry asked, echoing Ron Weasley's words.
The boy, who looked about Harry's age, nodded and Harry sat down. He looked at Harry for a few seconds before sitting up slightly. "Hold on… you're…" the boy began.
Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the traditional 'you're Michael Potter's brother, aren't you?' line.
"… Harry Potter, right?" the boy finished.
Harry opened his eyes and blinked. Did he just…? He did! He actually recognised me as Harry Potter! Harry nodded slightly, overwhelmed at not being referred to as 'Michael's brother' for once.
The other boy nodded. "I thought I recognised you from somewhere," he said. "You and your family came over to dinner at mine one time, remember?"
Harry looked at the boy with the dark blue eyes and dark, slightly curly hair. Now he thought about it, he did recognise the boy from somewhere. He tried thinking back to all the dinners his family had been invited to. "Zabini," remembered Harry after a slight pause. "Blaise Zabini, right?"
The boy grinned. "Yup. That's me."
The two boys talked for a while about nothing in particular. After telling each other about their families were getting on, the subject of Howarts came up.
"So, which house do you think you'll end up in?" asked Blaise.
"Dunno," shrugged Harry. "My Dad wants me and my brother to end up in Gryffindor, like him and Mum. Personally, I don't really mind, just as long as it's not the same one as Michael."
Blaise looked at Harry curiously. "You two don't get along, do you?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really. I mean, we've never been real brothers if you think about it. He's been busy basking in the attention of the world, while I've been pretty much ignored. Y'know, I bet my Dad probably couldn't even tell you anything about me. Hobbies, likes and dislikes, outlook on life – nothing.
Blaise nodded. "I got that impression when you came around last year. The fact that everyone paid attention to your brother and everything."
"Everyone but you," Harry noted. Blaise had in fact seemed a lot more interested in Harry than Michael, though Harry couldn't think for the life of him why.
"Yeah, well…" said Blaise modestly. He changed the subject back to the Sorting. "Anyway, neither of my parents went to Hogwarts, so I don't have any parental templates to follow, though they're both hoping I go into Slytherin." He paused slightly, thinking of his non-Death Eater, but still fanatic Pureblood parents. "Besides, whatever it is that puts you into each house is supposed to sort you based on personality."
"Yeah, I read about it somewhere," nodded Harry. "Each house places an emphasis on one particular aspect. For Gryffindors, it's courage. For Ravenclaws, it's intelligence. For Hufflepuffs, it's loyalty and hard work. And with Slytherin, it's ambition and the will to prove yourself." That's probably where I'll end up, thought Harry as he said this.
"I wonder what it is that sorts us?" wondered Blaise. "A couple of twins in third year said we had to wrestle Trolls and a fifth year said they put our names in a hat and get the heads of house to pick names."
Harry smirked at these suggestions, though the second one was probably fairly close to the truth – he had overheard his parents talking about it the previous day and had heard them mention something called the 'Sorting Hat'. "Well, if it's the Trolls, we can always send Michael in first and hope the 'Boy-Who-Lived' softens them up enough for us," he said.
Blaise chuckled slightly at this suggestion. "Somehow I doubt it would do us much good, he said, before looking at Harry with a serious look on his face. "He's not the Boy-Who-Lived, is he?" he said suddenly.
Harry looked at Blaise, unsure how to react. "How… what makes you think that?" stuttered Harry.
Blaise looked at Harry and nodded slightly. "I thought so," he said. "Your scar looks more like a side-effect of a curse than your brother's does."
"Um, well…" Harry tried to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say.
"Plus, he seems too normal. You, on the other hand, aren't," continued Blaise.
"Oh," said Harry sarcastically. "Thanks."
"Sorry. That came out wrong," apologised Blaise. "What I mean is that there's something about you that just seems… different."
Harry nodded, but said nothing.
"So, uh..." said Blaise cautiously, "What really happened?"
Harry sighed, but before he could say anything, his brother stuck his head through the compartment door.
"There you are," he said. "C'mon bro', we're nearly at Hogwarts."
Harry cursed his brother under his breath as he and Blaise got up to go and change into their school robes.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"Potter, Harry." Professor McGonagall called out.
Harry stepped forward, sat on the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
Ah, a Potter, said the voice of the Sorting Hat, echoing in Harry's mind. I must say it's been a while. Now, let's see. Well, you are very different from your parents. Indeed, I feel you would fit in well in any of the four houses. You have plenty of courage, of which Gryffindor would most certainly have approved. You are very loyal to those you feel deserve your loyalty, so Hufflepuff is certainly an option as well. You also have a good thirst for knowledge, which would serve you well in Ravenclaw. However, your thirst to prove yourself worthy is stronger – very strong indeed. Perhaps Slytherin would serve you best – unless you have any preferences, young Potter.
Just don't put me with my brother, thought Harry, hoping that this strange hat could hear him.
Ah, I see you desire to be free of your brother's proverbial shadow. In that case, I have made my choice, said the voice of the Hat. Harry James Potter, I hereby place you in "SLYTHERIN!!!"
Harry closed his eyes as the hat yelled out that last word, earning several gasps from around the hall. Ignoring them, Harry removed the hat and turned to his brother, who was gaping at him as if he were Voldemort himself.
"Your turn, 'brother'," he smirked before joining the Slytherin table.
XxXxXxXxXxX
The next morning, he had received a Howler from his father, admonishing him for becoming a Slytherin – it had been an interesting start to his first day. Blaise, who had also been sorted into Slytherin and now shared a dorm with Harry, had been sympathetic and had even offered to supply Harry with some Howler parchment, should Harry decide to respond to his father's humiliating scolding. Harry had refused, instead trying to think of a way at getting back at Michael, who had no doubt written to their parents and told them of Harry's sorting. That night however, a letter had come from his mother…
Dear Harry
I hope this letter finds you well and I hope the Howler your father sent you wasn't too embarrassing for you. I remember seeing a few friends, as well as your father, receive some very nasty Howlers when I was at Hogwarts.
I just wanted to tell you that your father feels very bad about how he reacted and sends his apologies. I also wanted you to know that, whatever you do, your father and I are very proud of you. I just wanted you to know that so you know that there's no need to try and 'prove yourself'. If we have ever made you feel inferior in any way, then I am very sorry, but please don't feel you have to outdo your brother or make us 'recognise your worth'.
You are my son. I love you and am very proud of you – nothing will ever change that. Please remember that.
Lots of Love
Mum
Harry still read and re-read that letter, even now, nearly three months later. He wished he could take his mother's advice, but he couldn't – seeing his brother being constantly praised for his successes only seemed to make Harry even more determined to outdo the supposed 'Boy-Who-Lived', despite the fact that he was already doing so. He had already become the youngest Seeker in over a century for the Slytherin team and was constantly top of his class, even in Potions, where he was the only Slytherin who ever had points deducted by Professor Snape, though he noticed this was happening less and less as time went by. In fact, Harry seemed to get on with all his teachers, with the exception of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, who seemed to want to stay as far away from Harry as possible. Other than that and the twinges he occasionally felt in his forehead, everything was going well.
However, it was nearing Christmas, and Harry wasn't looking forward to going home. Despite his mother's reassurances, Harry seriously doubted that his father had 'forgiven' him for becoming a student of 'the House of the Serpent', as he had referred to Slytherin in the Howler, even if he had somehow been persuaded to buy Harry a Nimbus 2000 for use in the Quidditch team. He also wasn't looking forward to having to spend time with his brother and younger sister. He had gotten used to spending time with his friends and exchanging some rather vicious insults with Draco Malfoy and his lackeys, while only having to see his twin brother in the classes shared by Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry hadn't even spoken to his brother since he had visited Michael in the Hospital Wing after a Mountain Troll had been released in the castle. However, the visit hadn't gone very well as they had merely ended up arguing about Merlin knew what until Madam Pomfrey had dismissed him.
Harry thought briefly of the Weasley twins, Fred and George. They got along fine, were always together, were constantly finishing each other's sentences and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. Harry sighed – he and Michael had never been like that, and they probably never would.
"Hey Hal," greeted Blaise, using the nickname Spencer Westwood had come up with for Harry as he sat himself down on a nearby chair.
"Hey there Blaze," Harry responded, using the nickname he had come up with for his friend. "What's up?"
"Well, the sign-up list for those staying over Christmas is up on the notice board," said Blaise. "Unfortunately, my parents want me back home though. Apparently they're organising a big family get-together, and I've been told I have to be there."
Harry nodded. "Oh well. Looks like I'll have to go home after all, else I'll have to stay here on my own, seeing as Rodge and Spence are both going home too."
"Cuthbert's staying," noted Blaise.
Harry looked at Blaise incredulously. "What? You're not seriously suggesting I stay here with that obnoxious git?"
"Good point," agreed Blaise. "Look, I'm sorry…"
"Don't worry about it," interrupted Harry, not wanting to hear Blaise apologise for something he didn't need to apologise for. "Besides, you fit in with your family as I do with mine. I mean, if what you told me about their opinions on Muggle-borns is true…" He trailed off, not wanting to continue.
"So, you're going home then?" asked Blaise after a slight pause.
"Guess so," shrugged Harry. "Oh well…"
There was another pause before Blaise decided to change the subject.
Eventually, after Harry had finished an essay for Herbology, he decided to try and get some sleep. He changed into his pyjamas and collapsed onto his bed. Quidditch practice tomorrow, he remembered as he lay there staring at the ceiling. Hopefully Flint'll be in a good mood tomorrow. He turned his head towards the window. Oh, who am I kidding? Flint always takes Quidditch way too seriously, though he might not be so serious since we've already trounced Gryffindor. He smirked to himself as he remembered seeing everyone's faces after he had caught the Snitch and won the game for Slytherin, despite someone trying to jinx his broom while he was flying it. I wonder who it was? Harry thought. At the moment, there were two suspects as far as Harry was concerned – Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell.
Snape was not the biggest fan of anyone named Potter after all, and he would probably love an excuse to make Harry's life a living hell. However, making Slytherin lose a Quidditch game seemed a little extreme to Harry. Snape took the competition between the four houses very seriously and would have sooner gnawed off his own arm than allow Gryffindor to gain any advantage over Slytherin in the contention for the House Cup.
Quirrell was a different story. The stuttering Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher didn't seem to be the type of person who would try to jinx someone in the middle of a Quidditch match, attended by the whole school, but the way Quirrell looked at him made Harry wonder. Why does he look at me like that? Harry asked himself. Every time Quirrell looked at him, Harry could see a strange combination of fear and hatred in the Professor's eyes. Then there was the matter of his scar – the twinges he felt seemed to happen mostly when Quirrell was around. Maybe I should tell someone, Harry considered. I mean, something must be causing it. Maybe if I go to Dumbledore… No, he probably won't listen. After all, according to them, my scar's just a side effect of my proximity to Voldemort and Michael that night. Dumbledore'll just ask Michael if he's felt anything, Michael'll say 'no' because his scar was made by a bit of splintered wood and I'll probably be dismissed as an attention-seeker or some other piece of Hippogriff crap.
Harry cleared his mind of all thought and closed his eyes. Before long, Harry had fallen asleep. However, had he stayed awake a few seconds longer, he might have seen through the window a bright blue glow emanating from near the lake.
-
Author's Note
Before anyone says anything…
1) This is NOT a typical 'Harry becomes a nasty Slytherin/friend of Malfoy/friend of Snape etc' storyline. I've never been to big a fan of the idea that all Slytherins are nasty racist bastards, otherwise why would they have such a house that encourages it? Hal, Blaze, Rodge & Spence are only in Slytherin because they're either ambitious, out to prove themselves or eager to do well. In fact, you'll see later exactly what they think of Malfoy & co. later on.
and
2) This is NOT a typical 'Harry is the brother of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'/is abused/neglected/hated by his parents etc' story. Again, I've never been a great fan of the majority of them, though I have seen some good ones. The fact that Michael, the 'Boy-Who-Lived', would inevitably get more attention than Harry should be more than enough to make Harry be distant from the rest of his family and endeavour to 'prove everyone wrong' once he got the chance. Plus, I haven't made Harry's brother a spoilt brat/arrogant bastard like most others tend to do, even if he does come across as a bit overbearing in this chapter. Harry's parents, usually written as Dursley-a-likes, do care about Harry, even if James is still a bit prejudiced against Slytherins.
Concerning Blaise Zabini – As I have said before, I haven't read any Harry Potter in a long time, so I've had to rely on other fics and my own initiative in order to provide a physical description of young Zabini. The dark, curly hair is from a fic. The dark blue eyes is something I made up. Apologies to any Zabini fans who may know better.
As I said in the last chapter's notes, I'm considering doing a spin-off for this reality. Any opinions of whether I should or not would be greatly appreciated.