Harry Potter and the Mirrored Fates

Chapter 1: Beginnings

A resounding crack fell over Privet Drive as a tall, old man suddenly appeared in front of a rather regular-looking home.

Dumbledore stared across the fairly large lawn that separated him and a family of muggles. The woman, long-necked, with a frilly nightdress, was trying to wrestle a small, chubby baby into his high chair.

He thought that the family looked completely normal (for muggles, at least), and no one would have ever suspected that they were related to a family of wizards, who—to the mourning of the entire wizarding world—died a heroic death. A death which would change the course of the entire world indefinitely. In his hands, he held the only survivor of said family: a raven-haired, green-eyed baby, tucked warmly and carefully in the hands of the wizened wizard.

Dumbledore rapped the door with three flexes of his knuckles.

"Coming!" Mrs. Dursley replied.

Petunia Dursley opened the door, to find a man wearing a most peculiar set of clothes: robes, with a hue of midnight blue, clasped in with a belt. Then, recognition sparked in her eyes and was afterwards immediately replaced with undisguised disgust.

"Get away from my house, you freak!" She whispered in suppressed rage. It was dark out, any shouting would only attract more attention.

Dumbledore was taken aback. While he did expect Petunia to be shocked by his sudden appearance, he never expected the loathing laced in her words.

"You have some nerve to come here you wiz—"

"Lily is dead." Dumbledore cut in with a grave tone.

A series of emotions flickered through Petunia's plain face: shock, sadness, remorse, and most surprising of all, regret.

"W-What?" Petunia managed to stammer out.

"She and her husband were murdered in their home hours ago".

At that point Petunia was aghast, and while she cut ties with her sister long ago, family was family, and the fact that she never made up with Lily broke her heart. And it was all because of those wicked wizards.

Suddenly, the bundle the old man was carrying started to move around restlessly.

"Is that—"

"Yes. This is Harry Potter. Your nephew. He was the sole survivor of the attack on the Potter's house."

Petunia immediately understood what was going on.

"No. Absolutely not! I have a son to raise! I won't have his freakishness anywhere near my Dudley!"

Dumbledore finally showed a slight edge of annoyance in his tone,

"Your sister died protecting him! She died a noble death that led to this boy becoming a symbol to the rest of the wizarding world! I may understand the issues of raising two young boys at once, but your ignorance to my kind is an unacceptable excuse to not give him a home!"

Petunia answered with a single sentence: "My sister has always been dead to me."

Albus Dumbledore cracked.

He looked straight into the eyes of Petunia Dursley and delved deep into her mind. Memories upon memories met his senses, but one memory seemed to be on Petunia's mind the most.

A dark haired, short boy was talking quietly with Lily. Petunia knew about magic, and how much of a weird sister she had. When she saw the dark haired boy doing magic, that's when she snapped.

"Lily! Get away from that freak!"

And that was enough for Dumbledore. Any type of sympathy she might hold for Harry would not be enough of a reason for Harry to stay with the anti-magic Dursleys, and while the blood wards would only work with Petunia— Dumbledore thought that a child coming from a cruel family can be worse than a safe one.

McGonagall was right.

"Fine, then. May we part ways, Petunia." Dumbledore turned and left Privet Drive with a still asleep baby in his hands, leaving a very confused and wary Petunia behind.

—- - —- —

Eleven Years Later…

Harry sat carefully on his chair, and was reading a very interesting book. It was a quiet morning in St. Peter's Orphanage, and Harry took great use of the time by reading books. Books, to Harry, were the best thing in life (other than ice cream, of course).

Harry liked his orphanage, and while he didn't have many friends, Mrs. Richards, the woman at the counter, was nice, and he was able to ask for more books during his birthdays (if he couldn't find them in the local library).

His lack of friends wasn't due to his bookworm nature or his tendency to prefer his own company, but due to the ever-increasing number of abnormal things happening to him.

One day, Harry was stuck in a talent show, and considering Harry, the only talents he really had were reading quickly and being able to end a conversation even quicker. He wanted to go back to his room, and somehow he did. In an instant, he had unexplainably teleported across the entire orphanage. Many of the other kids noticed, and the rumor spread like a forest fire.

Since then, a more variety of stuff happened: things randomly catching on fire, books disappearing, and much more. Harry marked it all as his delusions or coincidences, but as the strange occurrences happened more and more, he was finding it hard to believe that they were just things of fate.

"Good mornin' Harry!" Said Mrs. Richards.

"Good morning ma'am." Harry respectfully responded.

And that was how their interactions normally went.

"Harry," said Esther, another boy from the orphanage, "We're going to the park today, ya coming?"

Harry looked distastefully at the group of boys behind Esther. Harry doesn't get bullied, nor does he get abused, but he knew the comments they made, and wouldn't really fancy to go out with them.

"Not really, but maybe next time Esther."

Esther looked hurt for some reason, and the other boys merely scoffed.

"Well I told you, just let him read his stupid books and let's go." A particularly gangly boy said. Was his name Pete? Harry didn't know.

Harry completely ignored him. The comment was petty enough to not affect Harry at all. But somewhere, deep inside his head, he felt a sudden pang of anger; suddenly, he glared roughly right at the retreating Pete. At just like it came, the feeling of anger was gone again.

Harry sighed. There was something seriously wrong with him; it wasn't like he was gonna—

Hurt him.

Pete interrupted his train of thought with a heavy scream that rang through the building. His face had a ragged line of blood coming from his forehead, and it wasn't stopping. All the other boys looked at Pete with shock, and some even looked at him suspiciously. The counter woman ran towards the area with a medical kit.

Harry was completely frozen. He looked at his hand with a startled expression.

He did this?

Harry didn't know how he knew; but he felt it, the anger and hatred that he inflicted on Pete. He felt tired, as if he did something impossible. He never heard the words, he had no idea what they meant, but at that specific moment he felt two words stuck in his head.

Avada Kedavra.

He ran away from the sight.

—- —

The next day, people avoided Harry like a plague. Pete was perfectly fine, but he made it clear that crossing Harry would never end up well. Even Mrs Richards, who was normally comfortable with Harry's presence, was now looking pale every time she saw him.

The morning was a bad time for Harry, that was, until he got a very special letter.

—

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

—

Harry didn't need to doubt the letter. He knew. He knew he was a wizard, he knew that he was something different. Something better.

We are better.

A thought entered Harry's mind, and he had no idea where these thoughts were coming from.

The woman on the counter already saw the letter, and was skeptical at first, but after recalling the events of yesterday, she wasn't as disbelieving.

All the remaining doubt (which was practically zero by that point) disappeared when a knock came on the door.

He came.

Another voice came to his head, and Harry still wasn't sure whether he was imagining things.

Almost in a trance, Harry swept over to the door and locked his fingers around the doorknob, the door opened to reveal an old man, with twinkling blue eyes, and long, grey hair which ultimately gave him a grandfather-ish look.

"You must be Mr Potter," The old man said, smiling down at Harry.

"Yes," Harry replied somewhat curiously, with a touch of wariness.

How did that man know his name?

"Come now, let us sit and discuss that letter in your hand," The man said kindly.

"Who're you?" Harry asked with a touch of curiosity. Harry found that Dumbledore's eyes were interesting to see, and the twinkling made them look almost magical.

Don't look into his eyes.

Harry didn't look into Dumbledore's eyes anymore.

"Albus Dumbledore, but you can just call me Professor Dumbledore, or sir." Dumbledore replied.

Harry recognized that his name was in the letter he received, which means the headmaster of "Hogwarts" visited him. He was curious as to why the headmaster himself would visit.

"So what do they teach in this school, sir?" Harry asked.

"To put it simply: magic," Dumbledore said with a touch of finesse.

Harry simply nodded, it was merely a confirmation of something he already knew.

"Oh?" Dumbledore exclaimed, pushing his glasses up his crooked nose.

"There has to be a reason for all the things that happen around me, and the letter only proved it.

"An example please?" Dumbledore looked very curious indeed.

Harry visibly stiffened, the only recent example he knew and an unpleasant memory coming to his head. He didn't want to say it, but for some reason he had to, the man in front of him made him do so.

"Yesterday, I had gotten mad at a kid downstairs, I just focused and somehow he got hurt." Harry whispered, with a frightened tone.

Dumbledore's usually calm, composed facade took a startled tone as he stood up in an awkward manner. He seemed more worried, and suddenly the wrinkles in his face shew clearly. A frown was present in the grandfatherly face, and Harry felt disappointed with himself for some reason.

"Wizards and witches have troubles controlling their magic at a young age, my boy. What you did is simply a case of accidental magic. You should be lucky it was merely a small cut. Once you come to Hogwarts it won't be repeated."

He calmed down slightly, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Hogwarts works to teach students about their magic and helps children such as you learn spells."

Harry also calmed down at his words, the old man in front of him held a relaxing aura, and it held an effect on him as well.

"You know, you had your mother's eyes." Dumbledore said as he noticed the almost eerily-green eyes Harry had.

At the word of mother Harry snapped his neck towards the man and an unbelieving tone filled his next sentence.

"You knew my mother?" said a jaw dropped Harry.

"Of course, she and her husband both met through Hogwarts. Both were wonderful students of course." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a nostalgic sense as he recalled the two.

"Their names, Professor?" Harry said with a shocked expression continuing in his eyes.

"Your mother, Lily Evans, was a brilliant witch who met your father, James Potter, in her first year. Funnily enough, Lily didn't really seem to even like your father at the beginning, and I could say she even hated him. Both of them were..."

And the story continued.

Harry, rightfully so, was entranced by all the wonderful stories Dumbledore shared. He took happiness in the fact that his parents were amazing people.

So why wasn't Harry with them now?

"Ho-how did they die?" Harry managed to ask.

Painfully.

Now he definitely wasn't imagining things, there was a voice in his head, and apparently it wasn't a nice one.

Dumbledore froze.

The resulting conversation led to Harry learning of Voldemort.

And he was famous in the wizarding world—no big deal really.

Authors Note:

This fic will span throughout 1-7 years, and if you are hoping for a direct copy of the source material than you will be disappointed. This fic will diverge from canon very early on and will also keep in mind of cliches and etc. Some cliches will have to be present for the fic to continue, but others will not. So please review and rate our first chapter and constructive criticism is always appreciated!