Chapter 2

Dear Other-Harry,

Meet me in The Leaky Cauldron on 24th August at 12. We're going to the World Cup.

Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. Other-Harry – or Raven as Draco had dubbed him back in first-year after getting sick with the confusion – never wrote normal letters to him. No. His letters were statements to meet him somewhere for some reason that he didn't always disclose until he could do so in person. None of their other friends got this treatment. Just him. He supposed this made him special.

"Thanks Hedwig," Harry murmured, giving the snowy owl a strip of toast.

Hedwig gave a short hoot, before taking the toast and flying out of the window.

Once he'd placed his now empty plate in the dishwasher, Harry left the kitchen in search of his aunt. He doubted she would care about his absence but as she was his guardian he ought to tell her when he was going to be away.

Vienna Lovett, he discovered, was going through her wardrobe – tossing her clothes into two piles: 'to be burnt' and 'to keep'. Harry wasn't surprised to see that the 'to be burnt' pile was the larger of the two.

"What do you want?" Vienna snapped, eyeing up two identical tops.

"I'm leaving for a bit," Harry answered. "Going to the World Cup."

"Fine," Vienna waved off. "You know where the money is."

"Thanks," Harry murmured, swiftly leaving the bedroom.

He ducked into his own bedroom – a small box room embellished in handmade decorations and photographs pegged to strings of his friends and his mother – and began to throw a bag together. Spare set of clothes, a book, and a camera were shoved inside the honey yellow backpack, before the bag was shrugged onto his shoulders. Harry tapped his hoodie pocket to double check his wand was still there, as well as his iPod, before heading downstairs and back to the kitchen.

Stretching onto his toes, Harry pulled out the 'cookie jar' and opened it up. He counted out £50 of muggle money, before putting the jar back with a roll of his eyes at the sheer predictability of it. He'd been telling his aunt for years that it would be the first-place burglars would look, but did she listen? No, of course not. Pocketing the money, he walked into the entrance hall and yelled up the stairs,

"I'm going now!"

He didn't receive an answer, but he hadn't expected one.

The street he lived on was quiet. The old Victorian town houses stood strong, touching as they lined the road. Above it was a clear blue sky, and a sun that beat down onto the concrete and parked cars, causing heat to radiate from below as well as above. Pushing in his earphones and pressing play, Harry began to walk to the train station at the end of the street – Panic at the Disco beginning to blare through the earbuds.

He didn't have to wait long for the train – there was one every ten minutes into Charing Cross – and when he did, he slipped inside along with a few others, into a fairly busy carriage. He stood near the door, scrolling through his music selection absently and keeping an eye out for any pickpockets. Ever since he had been pickpocketed £20 in Kings Cross, he had been extra suspicious of everyone who came near him.

The journey was thankfully short, for which he was grateful as when he got out at Leicester Square, at least 50 tourists pushed their way onto the train – babbling like the flock of confused pigeons at Trafalgar Square.

He barely had to walk five minutes before he was standing in front of The Leaky Cauldron. The dingy pub sat unnoticed by the muggles – their eyes simply passing straight over it. Running a hand through his copper hair, he crossed the busy road and entered the pub.

It was like walking a couple centuries into the past. Gone was the buzz of modern London. Wizards and witches dressed in robes belonging in the very far past, sat around splintering tables with tankards of butterbeer or Firewhisky. Many had the day's soup sitting in front of them – it being nearly the time for lunch – and were peering at The Daily Prophet through poorly prescribed spectacles or magnifying glasses.

Aware he was early, Harry passed straight through the pub and into Diagon Alley, which was abuzz with shoppers. He slipped through the crowds up to the white marble bank that sat at the top of the street, staring down at them unimpressed: Gringotts. The muggle money in his pocket needed converting if he was planning on using it.

"Yes?" sneered a goblin.

"I'd like to exchange £50 muggle money into wizards' currency," Harry stated, popping out his earbuds with one hand, and pulling out the cash with the other.

The goblin eyed the money, before snapping out a hand. "That will be a galleon's fee."

"Take it out of the exchange," Harry said, not batting an eyelid as he handed over the money. He hadn't thought the exchange fee would've changed anytime soon.

The goblin disappeared for a few moments before running with a pouch of coins. "24 Galleons," the goblin said, dropping the pouch into Harry's hand. "Any other business?"

"No thank you," Harry said, pushing the money into his already quite-full backpack.

He left the bank and headed back to The Leaky Cauldron – it now being 12pm. His eyes dragged over a poster advertising The Quidditch World Cup that was pasted to the wall, before snapping back in front of him as he re-entered the pub.

"There you are!"

Harry jumped, whirling round to see the Other-Harry grinning at him. Glaring, he took his earbuds back out, paused his iPod and pocketed it all. "You make it sound like I'm late."

"You are," Raven shrugged, pointing to the clock on the wall.

It was 12:01.

"Hardly," Harry muttered.

"Come on," Raven said, pushing him deeper into the pub, "Sirius and Remus are waiting for us."

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been the one to raise the Famous Harry Potter. Completely in secret, as, to all the world, Famous Harry Potter was living with his muggle relatives. Even Dumbledore wasn't privy to the truth. The two men claimed it was for safety, but both Harrys knew it was because they didn't trust Dumbledore not to interfere.

Harry had grown to see Sirius and Remus as the uncles he had never had growing up – he was round that often. The two – well Sirius – took great delight in the prank he and Raven had been pulling for the past couple three years. To this date, no-one knew which Harry Potter was The Harry Potter. Personally, Harry wasn't sure whether he should be proud at how long they had pulled it off, or worried about how thick the rest of the world had to be to have not figured it out yet.

In his eyes, it was perfectly obvious. But he supposed that he hadn't helped anyone by being a carbon copy of a male Lily Potter nee Evans. When Raven had first showed him a photo of his mother, Harry had gone into minor shock. It simply wasn't possible that he could not only have the same name as her son but be her freaking male clone. He'd gotten over it eventually, but it had taken a while. It had certainly explained why both Sirius and Remus had choked when they first met him.

"Harry 1! Harry 2!" Sirius greeted, jumping up. Beside him, Remus rolled his eyes.

"Hey," Harry said, whilst Raven muttered, "You saw me literally two seconds ago."

"Ready?" the Black asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

"He's been like this all week," Remus said at Harry's questioning look.

Sirius ignored the exchange. "Well? Are you?"

"Yes?" Harry said hesitantly – not sure what exactly he was supposed to ready for.

He tilted his head for a moment. "Good enough!" He held out his arm to Raven, whilst Remus held his arm out to Harry. "We'll be Apparating there. Hold on tight."

Harry glanced up at Remus, who nodded, before taking hold of the werewolf's arm. There was a pause, and then suddenly he felt as though he was being pulled inside out whilst spinning through a small tube.

He hated Apparating.

His feet suddenly hit uneven ground and he stumbled – near face planting.

They had appeared on the edge of a thick forest that stretched as far as they could see. A little ahead of them, was an oddly dressed wizard holding a long roll of parchment. Short, rotund, and wearing a bright pink mackintosh over jogging bottoms and a plunge-neck t-shirt, the wizard appeared to be doing his best to appear 'muggle'. Having grown up in London and therefore seen all sorts of oddly dressed people, Harry just sighed. Beside him, Raven gave the wizard an odd look.

"Do you think he's blind?" he whispered to Harry.

"Ah! Lord Black!" the wizard suddenly shouted, having caught sight of the group of four, and began to hurry over. "Right on time."

"Eric," Sirius greeted.

"Single tent, yes?" Eric asked, looking down at his parchment.

Sirius glanced at Remus questioningly.

"Yes, booked a few weeks ago," Remus answered.

"Yes, yes, it's all here," Eric mumbled to himself. He suddenly pulled a much smaller roll of parchment from his pocket. "Here you are, a map of the campsite. You're over in the next field with the other Lords."

Remus accepted the map, whilst Sirius let out a moan,

"Why'd you put us with the other purebloods, Moony?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Because Harry and Harry are good friends with those purebloods, Sirius. Or had you forgotten?"

Sirius pouted. "What about my friends?"

"You don't have any friends."

"Ouch Moony," Raven whistled. "Harsh."

Remus shrugged casually, but the corner of his mouth had upturned. "Come on. The sooner we find our tent, the sooner we can explore."

They trudged up the field, moving between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary – their owners clearly having tried to make them look as muggle-like as possible but had slipped up by adding chimneys or bell-pulls or weather vanes. Some, however, were so obviously magical that Harry half-expected them to sprout wings and start flying about. For example, half-way up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little further on was a tent that had three floors and several turrets.

"Always the same," Remus sighed.

They weren't the only ones walking around. Small children zoomed around on broomsticks that only hovered a foot off the ground – chased by distressed Ministry officials, who looked as though they might burst into tears at any given second. Small clusters of teenagers were dotted about as well, and at one point they passed a group of pretty girls in green, who were all talking rapid French to each other. The campsite was alive and thrumming with anticipation.

The purebloods' pitch was much more sophisticated than what else they had seen of the campsite. Large tents in luxurious materials and colours were pitched, with small, neat gardens around them. House crests were emblazoned on each tent – proudly stating to whom they belonged. Their tent was in-between two houses Harry didn't recognise – Laurent and Vicci.

It was a pleasant dark blue colour with both the Black and Potter crests on the door-flaps. It was trimmed in gold and had a pair of lanterns hanging on hooks just outside for when it eventually got dark. Inside was just as simple, if a little less formal looking.

Bigger on the inside – 'like the Tardis' Harry thought – it stretched out into an open plan kitchen/sitting room decorated in light, neutral colours. There was a stove and a fireplace, as well as a bookshelf filled with various guides to camping. There were three doors – one leading to a fully tiled, working bathroom, and the other two to separate bedrooms, one of which had two single beds. It was comfortable.

"Had lunch yet Ginger?" Sirius asked, already rummaging in the kitchen.

"No, but I had breakfast just before I left," Harry answered, internally sighing at the nickname the man had given him a few years ago.

"So, you'll have plenty of room for lunch."

Harry didn't bother arguing. Chances were Remus would have to drag Sirius away from the kitchen forcefully when he eventually set something on fire, before taking up the role of chef himself. Remus's cooking was pretty good – certainly something he never turned down. At home, he lived off whatever he could order in or buy ready-made at the supermarket. He was like Sirius in the regard he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.

"Why don't you two go and explore the campsite?" Remus suggested. "We'll call you back when lunch is ready."

The two Harrys glanced at each other, before nodding and exiting the tent. They made their way back through and out of the 'rich people area' as Raven dubbed it and into where the fun was happening in the sprawling mass of tents and wizards trying and failing to pass for muggles. As they explored, they passed a Ministry official talking to an elderly wizard who was in what appeared to be a flowery nightgown.

"Just put them on Archie," the official said, brandishing a pair of pinstripe trousers and a shirt. "You can't walk around like that – the Muggles on the gate's already getting suspicious."

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," Archie said crossly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men. They wear these," said the Ministry wizard, shaking the clothes in front of him.

"I'm not putting them on!" Archie declared indignantly. "I like a healthy breeze around my privates, thanks!"

Raven was overcome with such a strong fit of hysterical laughter that Harry had to drag him away, trying not to laugh himself.

They were just coming up to a field of tents covered in shamrocks when they waved down.

"Harry! Raven!"

The two Harrys turned to see Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott walking up the hill. The two boys looked much the same as they always did, though lacking the outer robes. They still wore their button-up shirts and fitting trousers.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Draco fumed.

Raven gave a lopsided grin. "Must've slipped my mind."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know myself until a couple of hours ago."

"How long have you been here?" Theo asked. "I arrived with Blaise early this morning."

"Just now," Raven said. "Where is our Italian friend?"

"Chatting up some students from Beauxbatons," Draco answered, rolling his eyes. "We left him to it."

"Girls or boys this time?" Harry asked, a grin tugging on his lips.

"Both," Theo answered, smiling himself.

Blaise had very quickly earned himself a reputation as an outrageous flirt way back in first year, and his reputation was well-earned. With his handsome features, suave Italian and astounding self-confidence he won over a lot of hearts in Hogwarts. As much as his friends found it annoying, they did not complain about the rewards – information about everyone. It seemed, when one was trying to impress, they could come up with some pretty juicy secrets.

"Who're you supporting?" Raven asked.

"Ireland," Draco answered, whilst Theo answered, "Bulgaria."

Draco scoffed. "Oh please, Ireland is by far the superior team."

"But Bulgaria has Krum," Theo shot back.

"One player does not outmatch a whole team."

Harry and Raven exchanged a glance. Harry, personally, did not care all that much for Quidditch and didn't know too much about the various teams across the world. Raven did follow Quidditch but had already told him he didn't care which team won the Cup because his favourite – Norway – hadn't qualified for the finals.

"Ireland could win but have Krum catch the snitch," Harry pointed out. "That's how Ravenclaw won against Gryffindor last year."

Raven nodded. "Catching the snitch doesn't always mean you win the match. Weasley is a superior seeker to Chang but Ravenclaw played better strategies."

Before either Draco or Theo could comment on this theory, they were interrupted by a familiar tropical bird swooping down and landing on Raven's shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes at Sirius's pet bird – Gaedar – as he stuck out his leg, a small scroll tied to it. Raven detached the scroll quickly and gave it a quick glance over before looking over at Harry.

"Lunch is ready," he said, as Gaedar flew away, satisfied the message had been delivered.

Harry nodded and turned to Draco and Theo. "Where are you sitting?"

"Top box," Draco said smugly.

Theo rolled his eyes at the blonde. "Continental box with Blaise and his mother."

"Ciara is here?" Raven said, raising his eyebrows.

"Blaise said it's her way of making up for being away at the start of the summer on honeymoon."

"Which husband is this again?" Draco asked.

"16 I think," Theo answered.

Harry sighed. "Explains where Blaise got his personality from." He paused. "Anyway, we should probably get going before Sirius sends out a search party."

Raven snorted. "Or Remus."

Theo and Draco nodded.

"See you in the top box," Raven grinned, before grabbing Harry's hand and tugging him away into the crowd.

"If they're gay for each other it's really going to throw a wrench in your two-year-plan to get Raven to fall in love with you," Theo commented, watching the two Potters go.

Draco's left eye twitched. "I admitted that to you when I thought we were certainly going to die. You do not need to rub it in my face every chance you get."

He shrugged. "Just saying."


A/N - I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE! I had my GCSE exams and then my exams gave me writers' block and then I was working in a fudge factory and now I've started 6th form college so am currently really busy. I promise this story is not going to be abandoned!

Thank you to Guest, XxDragon King DragneelxX and Violet Rose of Darkness for reviewing the first chapter.

I hope you enjoy the second,

hazel