Chapter 2,Two Paths, One Sky

That night, long after the house had gone still and the Dursleys had locked themselves away behind closed doors, Harry lay wide awake on his small, lumpy bed, staring at the ceiling through the dim light of the moon.

Everything had changed.

He had thought his life was ordinary—miserable, even—but today, he'd stepped into a world that felt like something out of a dream. No—not a dream. Something far more real. More vivid. And it had all begun with Hagrid, a half-giant with a heart of gold, bursting into his life like a thunderclap and telling him the truth: You're a wizard, Harry.

Even now, the words echoed through him.

He thought of Diagon Alley—the twist of cobbled streets, the shining shop windows, the towering shelves of books and the glint of gold in Gringotts' vaults. The smell of old parchment and wand polish still clung to his thoughts. He'd bought his first wand—eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. It had chosen him. And not just any wand, but one that shared a core with the wand of Voldemort. The name still felt heavy, like a shadow that wrapped itself around his chest.

And then there was Mriyan.

That was the part that lingered most in Harry's mind. Of all the strange and wonderful things that had happened today, meeting him had been… different.

He hadn't known what to expect when Hagrid introduced them, but Mriyan had been nothing like the others. He didn't gawk at Harry, didn't whisper about the scar or the prophecy or the fame. He simply saw him—not as The Boy Who Lived, but as a boy. Nervous. Curious. Alone.

He remembered the calm in Mriyan's voice, the quiet way he reassured him after Ollivander's eerie wand speech. The way he stood, still as a statue, and stared down anyone who crossed a line—even Ollivander. Harry could still hear him say, "You don't have to carry the weight of a past you never chose. You only need to decide who you want to be."

He remembered Mriyan laughing softly when Harry asked about all the praise Draco had given him.

"The only thing that mattered to me," he had said, "was that I had true friends and I loved my time at Hogwarts. And I think you'll have all that too."

There was a warmth in that memory. A hope.

It had been a whirlwind day, but every time Harry felt overwhelmed, Mriyan had been there—a steady, comforting presence. Not overbearing. Not too distant. He had answered Harry's questions with honesty, looked at him with pride without ever putting pressure on him.

Harry turned on his side, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin. He closed his eyes, picturing Mriyan's tailored figure standing tall at the Dursleys' doorstep, politely terrifying Uncle Vernon with that perfectly calm, aristocratic voice.

A small smile tugged at Harry's lips.

It wasn't just that Mriyan was brilliant or powerful or respected—though he was all those things. It was that Mriyan had chosen to be kind. He didn't have to spend the day with him, didn't have to make him feel safe… but he did.

And for the first time in his life, Harry felt like he might finally have something he'd never dared to wish for.

Someone like a big brother.

He whispered into the dark, "Thank you, Mriyan."

And with that, for the first time in weeks, Harry drifted into sleep with a full heart.

The lights of Diagon Alley had long dimmed, and the shadows stretched quiet and wide under the London sky. Mriyan stood alone just outside the enchanted perimeter, his transfigured muggle suit now gone, robes catching the soft rustle of wind as the night deepened.

He hadn't gone home yet.

Not just yet.

There was a weight in his chest—not a burden, but something profound. He'd met Harry James Potter today.

The boy who lived.

No… not just that.

The boy who had grown up unseen, unloved, and yet had not allowed bitterness to consume him. The boy who stared in wonder at the wizarding world—not with arrogance, but with gratitude. Who had listened so carefully. Asked so gently. Who had walked beside him not with suspicion or fear, but with quiet trust.

And Mriyan had felt something stir in him. A warmth.

An ache.

He hadn't expected it.

Dumbledore had sent him to Diagon Alley with a simple mission: watch over Hagrid. Guard the Philosopher's Stone. Keep an eye out for dark forces. But fate, it seemed, had something else in mind.

He had met Harry.

And in those few hours… something had changed.

That thoughtful glance. The way Harry looked up to him—respectfully, not for his name or titles, but for the safety and quiet strength he offered. The soft smile when Mriyan reassured him in Ollivander's shop. The genuine curiosity when they talked about spells, or his future at Hogwarts.

There was something achingly familiar in it all.

Mriyan tilted his head up toward the dark sky, where stars blinked like memory.

And then it hit him.

Jacob.

His elder brother. His heart.

Jacob, who used to call him Pip, because he was so small and curious and always tagging behind. Jacob, who disappeared into the shadows, and whom Mriyan had spent years searching for across Hogwarts' hidden paths, unraveling mystery after mystery just to get him back.

He still remembered the moment he found him.

The look on Jacob's face.

The way his brother smiled, arms open, eyes bright with disbelief and love, and whispered, "You found me, Pip."

Mriyan swallowed hard now, his throat tightening.

That same smile… that exact same smile had been on his own lips today when Harry asked him about brooms and magic, about Hogwarts and life.

He never had a younger brother. He had always been the younger one.

But maybe today… just maybe… he got to feel what Jacob must have felt all those years ago. That fierce love. That strange protectiveness. That quiet pride.

Mriyan exhaled slowly, his voice barely a breath in the night.
"Thank you, Albus," he murmured. "You sent me to protect the boy who lived… and instead, you gave me something I never knew I needed."

A chance to know what it feels like… to be the elder one.

To be the Jacob, for someone else.

And perhaps that was the greatest gift of all.

A Small Flat in Edinburgh, Evening

The fireplace crackled softly in the background, casting flickers of golden light across the study. Mriyan sat at his desk, his elegant quill dancing lightly across a crisp piece of parchment. A gentle smile played on his lips, rare and genuine.

"Dear Harry,
I heard from Professor McGonagall—congratulations on becoming the youngest Seeker in a century. That's no small feat! I'm proud of you.
Also, welcome to Gryffindor! That house gave me some of the best friends of my life. I'm sure you'll find your own circle soon—though knowing you, you already have."
"Keep your eyes open, your wand ready, and never stop asking questions. Hogwarts has a way of revealing its secrets to those who seek them with an honest heart.
Write to me whenever you like. I'm always here."
Warm regards,
Mriyan"

Just as he signed his name with a soft flourish, a familiar voice floated in from behind.

"Writing a letter, Pip?" Jacob asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Mriyan turned slightly, surprised but amused. "You still call me that," he said with a quiet chuckle.

Jacob shrugged, stepping closer. "You'll always be Pip to me. Who's the lucky one getting such wise words?"

Mriyan folded the letter carefully, then looked up with a soft glint in his eyes. "Harry Potter."

Jacob blinked. "The Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived?"

Mriyan nodded. "Yes. Though… that's not how I think of him. He's just Harry to me. Bright, curious, polite. A little overwhelmed, but grounded in a way I didn't expect."

Jacob raised an eyebrow and settled into the seat opposite him. "You sound... attached."

Mriyan smiled, eyes distant for a second. "Dumbledore asked me to be around when Hagrid brought him to Diagon Alley. I thought I was just there for protection, maybe a precaution in case of danger. But then I met him, and—Jacob, he's just a boy. A boy with a scar and a burden no child should carry. But he's… kind. Brave. I don't know how to explain it, but something in me just clicked."

Jacob watched him quietly. "He reminded you of someone?"

Mriyan looked down at the letter in his hand. "Yes. He reminded me of you. That first day I met you after all those years of searching—I'll never forget the way you smiled at me. That warmth. That… home."

He glanced up again. "I've always known what it means to be a little brother. But maybe, for the first time, I felt what it might mean to have a younger one."

Jacob leaned back, his eyes suddenly glassy. "Pip, that's beautiful."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Jacob finally asked, softly, "Does he know how lucky he is to have you?"

Mriyan shook his head. "Not yet. But I'll be there for him. Not as a legend, or an ex-Head Boy, or a duelist… Just as someone who believes in him. Someone who sees him."

Jacob gave his brother a long, quiet look, then got up and walked over to squeeze his shoulder.

"You'll be an incredible big brother."

Hogwarts, Christmas Morning, 1991

Snow dusted the windowsills of the Gryffindor common room as the fire crackled warmly in the hearth. Harry sat cross-legged near the Christmas tree, opening the few presents he'd received. Most were modest, but his hands paused on one small, neatly wrapped package, tied with deep blue ribbon and an elegant tag bearing a name in perfect script:

"To Harry — from Mriyan Ray."

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected anything from Mriyan—he barely thought Mriyan would remember him amidst all the chaos of the school term. But as he unwrapped it carefully, a soft leather-bound book emerged: a pocket-sized enchanted star map, the kind of magical object that looked simple but held profound meaning. Its cover shimmered subtly, charmed to reflect the night sky over Hogwarts. Inside, each page displayed the constellations visible on a given night, annotated with Mriyan's own handwritten notes.

"These stars have guided many before us — may they guide you too, Harry. And whenever you feel alone, look up. You'll know someone is watching the same sky as you."

For a long moment, Harry simply stared at the map. Something in his chest tightened. He could almost hear Mriyan's calm, thoughtful voice saying those words. It wasn't just a beautiful magical item—it was a heartfelt gesture.

"Who's that from?" Ron asked, munching on a sugar quill as he leaned over.

"Mriyan Ray," Harry said quietly.

Ron sat up straighter at once. "Mriyan Ray? You got a gift from Mriyan Ray?"

Harry looked puzzled. "You know him?"

"Know him?" Ron scoffed, his eyes wide. "He came to the Burrow once—Mum and Dad love him. Bill and Charlie always talk about how brilliant he was at Hogwarts. Charlie was in his year, and even Bill respected him, and that's saying something. Fred and George think he's awesome, Percy was jealous of him every year. Top of every subject, Head Boy, undefeated dueling record—he's a legend, Harry."

"Really?" Harry asked, stunned. "I mean… he was kind to me. He helped me a lot that day in Diagon Alley. But he never… he never talked about himself."

Hermione chimed in as she flipped through Hogwarts: A Modern Magical History. "Oh, I read about him in here. He solved the Cursed Vaults mystery, you know? Fought dark wizards, saved Hogwarts more than once, and still stayed humble. They called him the 'Hero of Hogwarts.'"

Harry looked down at the star map again, awed. A quiet warmth bloomed in his chest. Draco Malfoy had boasted about Mriyan that day by the broomstick shop, but Harry had never believed it all. Now he knew at least one thing Malfoy said had been true: Mriyan was truly something special.

But more than that, Mriyan had treated him—just Harry—as someone worth caring for.

"I didn't know he did all this," Harry whispered. "He never made me feel small. He just… listened. He cared. Like—like a big brother would."

Ron gave him a knowing grin. "Mate, you basically got adopted by a Hogwarts legend."

Harry laughed softly, his thumb brushing the star map's cover.

"I think," he said, voice full of quiet gratitude, "I got the best gift this Christmas."

Gryffindor Tower
25th December, 1991
Evening

Dear Mriyan,

Merry Christmas!

Thank you — truly — for the most beautiful gift I've ever received. The enchanted star map is just... brilliant. I don't think I can put into words how much it means to me. I look at it and feel like I'm not so alone anymore. It's like there's a part of you here with me, guiding me when I need it most. I've already spent an hour flipping through the constellations. I never thought stars could feel so alive.

I also spoke to Ron and Hermione about you. I hope you don't mind. I was just so surprised when they knew so much about you. Ron said you came to the Burrow once and that his whole family thinks very highly of you. Hermione showed me a book — I think it was Hogwarts: A Modern Magical History — and it mentioned the Cursed Vaults and how you saved the school multiple times. Honestly, I was a bit shocked. I mean, I knew you were brilliant, but I had no idea you were… well, that legendary.

Did you really do all that? Fight dark wizards? Discover hidden vaults? Save Hogwarts?

And if you don't mind me asking… why didn't you tell me?

You helped me through one of the most overwhelming days of my life, and not once did you mention all those things. You just… made me feel normal. Safe. Like I mattered for who I am, not because of my scar or my name. I didn't even realize it until today, but it meant the world to me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is — thank you. Not just for the gift, but for being there. For being you.

I hope you're having a wonderful Christmas. And I hope we get to talk again soon. Maybe you can tell me about the Vaults? Or what it was like being Head Boy? Or what you saw in the stars?

Your friend,
Harry

P.S. Do you still stargaze every night?

31st December, 1991
Midnight Sky, Somewhere Between Stars and Silence

Dear Harry,

Your letter reached me this morning — by far the best gift this Christmas could offer.

I'm glad you liked the star map. When I first discovered one like it in my Astronomy NEWT class, I used to sneak out at night with Barnaby just to lie under the sky and match the constellations. That map, like the stars, reminded me there was always something vast and beautiful above us, even in the darkest times. I thought perhaps, on nights when things feel confusing or lonely, it might do the same for you.

So… Ron and Hermione gave me away, did they?

Yes, most of those stories are true — though the books always leave out how messy my hair looked after fighting a giant Ice Knight or how often I fell asleep in the library researching curses. The Cursed Vaults were real, dangerous, and… strange. I faced them with friends I would trust with my life. I hope someday I can tell you all of it — over butterbeer, maybe, when you're ready.

And as for why I didn't tell you? I suppose I never saw the point of speaking about past glories to someone who's just beginning his own journey. You reminded me of what truly matters: courage, kindness, and wonder. I didn't want to cloud that with stories of heroism — not when I saw something even greater budding in you.

I'm not a legend, Harry. I was a scared kid who learned how to stand up when others needed him. You already have that spark. I saw it that first day in Diagon Alley. You don't need stories — you'll create your own.

But… if you ever want to hear about the time I stole a cursed arrow from a three-headed banshee (by accident), or how we lured a dark wizard into a library full of sentient books, I'll write back with all the details — and maybe even a bad sketch or two.

And yes, I still stargaze. Every night.

Keep looking up, Harry. There's a whole sky waiting for you.

With fondness,
Mriyan

P.S. You've made me realize something, too — maybe I always wanted to know what it felt like to have a younger brother.