AN: Hey everyone! Imperial here with a brand new story for your reading pleasure! This is my third story and I'm very glad to share it with you. You've been enjoying my other two stories a lot, and I'm very proud to present to you the third instalment in the multiverse. Here are the things you should know before reading further:

As you might have guessed after reading the summary, this story is inspired from Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived by The Santi. I've always wanted to write a non-bashed Potter family in which everything is seemingly right and yet things go wrong, and this was the perfect premise for it.

This is a story in which Harry has a very normal life and a high aptitude for magic, and slowly, over time begins to take unconventional routes towards becoming a great wizard. Unlike my other two stories, this story will be very detailed and move much faster with much more magical lore sprinkled everywhere as Harry progresses.

Now that we have gotten this over with, please enjoy the story! And do let me know your thoughts on the beginning.

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Chapter 1 - Not so humble beginnings

October 31, 1981
Godric's Hollow

"Avada Kedavra," snarled Lord Voldemort and a green beam of light streamed from the tip of his bony-white wand into the chest of the stupid Muggle woman who had dared to stand in front of him and his prey. Her foolish husband was already dead in the living room, getting rid of him no more than a perfunctory business for the Dark Lord.

As the woman fell, the Dark Lord showed a glimmer of emotion for the first time that evening.

There lay, in two side by side cribs, the one-year old Potter twins, one of whom had been prophesied to bring his downfall.

The crib nearest to the wall held Oliver Potter with hazel eyes and dark hair, sucking on his thumb as he cried. Born on July 31st 1980, at 3:51 in the morning, his magic felt strong as he trashed his small limbs about the space. The Dark Lord felt that this toddler, if allowed to live, would certainly go on to become a capable wizard at the very least.

He then chose to look away and let his senses enlarge to envelop the other toddler who was surprisingly quiet, standing in his crib, staring at him intently with eyes that were the uncanny shade of the Killing Curse. The boy was silent and watching, his small hands gripping the bars of his crib tightly, as if waiting for him to do something. Born at 3:41 in the morning, this Potter boy's magic was too dense and made the Dark Lord frown.

Although Oliver Potter was born slightly closer to the death of the seventh month, it was Harry Potter that had made him pause and reconsider the prophecy again.

A part of him, the wild, uncontrollable one, wanted to kill both of them and be done with it, but he suppressed that part. He was never one to waste precious magical blood, and only one of these children was prophesied to become his greatest nemesis.

And who knows? Maybe in the future, he may even get the other Potter child to join his cause, helping Lord Voldemort get back at the Potters in an even more vicious way.

But in that very moment, the green-eyed toddler's eyes flashed and Lord Voldemort instantly knew, deep within his magic and his psyche that it was him that needed to die tonight.

The other child may go on to become a great wizard, but he would never be truly as formidable as Harry Potter.

Turning his wand upon the one-year old, he grinned. His snake-like features distorted to produce a visage that would've made the bravest of wizards piss their pants but for some reason, this little helpless boy didn't even flinch.

His tiny calculating eyes travelled from the Dark Lord's wand to his hand and then to his face and he stared without blinking, as if in a challenge.

Lord Voldemort didn't waste any more time.

"Good-bye Harry Potter," he murmured, "Avada Kedavra!"

And then he knew nothing but soul-tearing pain as his body was no more.

~~ .

November 1, 1981
The Potter Keep

"I'll take Harry," Lily said as she handed over the sleeping Oliver to James.

They were seated in one of the only livable parlours of the Potter Keep, waiting for the elves to air some of the main rooms so that they could move in permanently. It had barely been twenty-four hours since the attack on their cottage in Godric's Hollow and both Potter parents had not slept at all in that time.

Lily could barely keep her tears at bay as the visions of her dead parents flashed before her eyes once more, drowning her in grief. She wished she and James had never left the cottage that night, the Order meeting be damned.

But James had proposed that a little outing would be good for her, and she had agreed because she really had been feeling stifled after two months of being hidden with little contact with anyone. So they had agreed, deciding upon no more than an half hour away from the cottage, while their kids remained in the care of Lily's parents. But Voldemort had chosen to come in that very moment, likely knowing from Peter that Lily and James were gone.

James was slowly placing Oliver back in his new crib, his face showing the signs of worry and distress that he always disguised with his roguish smile.

"James?" she spoke, seeking his confident reassurance once more, "They'll be okay, right?"

James turned to her and gave her a nod and a smile before tiptoeing back to her. "Of course," he murmured quietly, to not disturb Harry who had finally gone still in her arms after an hour of restlessness, "Our boys are quite the fighters, just like us."

She smiled, murmuring quiet words to her son as she lay him back in his crib. Tracing a finger over his head, she frowned. Harry's forehead had a faint line of scar over his left eye while Oliver had a massive lightning-shaped one in the middle of his forehead.

It had been extremely worrying for both her and James when after preliminary scans, Dumbledore had said that he felt some dangerous levels of dark magic wafting out of both of their scars. She had almost had a panic attack at the revelation, but James, as always, had been there for her, holding her, whispering soothing words into her ear to calm her and make her think rationally again.

The *whoosh* of the fireplace broke her out of her reverie and she flinched.

"James! May I come through?"

"Of course, Professor, one second." James said, whispering the pass-phrase for the floo to activate and deposit Albus Dumbledore into the parlour.

A quick wave of his hand vanished the soot from his grey robes as he stepped closer to peer at the Potter twins.

"I'm glad that they're sleeping peacefully," he commented softly, smiling serenely over his half-moon spectacles.

"Is there any development?" Lily asked.

Albus' demeanour immediately turned more sombre. He nodded. "I'm afraid I bring some news that may not be so welcoming."

James straightened. "What is it?"

Albus joined his hands over his stomach, meeting their eyes. "The news about the tragedy has spread and people are already celebrating the downfall of Voldemort."

"How?" Lily asked, "I thought nobody else knew the full story!"

Albus appeared contrite at that. "I'm afraid that is my fault. I let Hagrid know about the tragedy on Halloween night, and he let it slip in a bar. Since then, the news has spread," he revealed, producing a newspaper from within his robes.

"Oliver Potter: The Boy-Who-Lived?" James read aloud. "What is this, Albus?"

The old wizard took a moment to answer. "I'm afraid that Oliver is the one that Lord Voldemort has marked, according to the prophecy."

Lily gasped, immediately running to her son and standing beside him, not moving her eyes from his quietly snoring form.

"How do you know that he tried to kill Oliver and not Harry?" James asked.

Albus sighed. "The scar on Oliver's forehead seems to reek of some magical residue, probably from the magical backlash when Voldemort tried to kill him, while Harry's scar has already healed and faded. My guess is that Harry was simply hurt from being in the vicinity of such a powerful magical discharge, while Oliver actually suffered it."

"But shouldn't a magical discharge like that have done more than just give them a scar?" James speculated. "But they have no other injuries except on their foreheads!"

"I couldn't tell you, James," Albus answered. "It is not something that I have understood yet."

"What do we do?" Lily asked worriedly.

Albus shook his head. "Nothing. You raise your children and live in peace, not unlike the rest of Britain, at least for the time being. Be assured that I will come by to check on Harry and Oliver often, just to make sure that there are no lingering effects of any dark magic."

James went to see Albus out as Lily stood there by her children, a mixture of relief and worry seeping into her bones at Dumbledore's words.

~~ .

December 2, 1989
The Potter Keep

"Harry? Where are you?" Lily called out as she came into the dining room, only to see the untouched plate of sandwiches on the table.

There was no answer, making her shake her head. "Nysa!"

The young elf appeared before her, bowing slightly. "Mistress called?"

Lily smiled at her before asking for the whereabouts of her son.

"Young master be in the library, Mistress," she informed her, making her chuckle in exasperation. This was the third time this week when he'd completely forgotten that he also needed to eat and sleep in addition to studying magic.

"Thank you, Nysa," she said to the blushing elf before making her way to the library.

Finding her son curled up in his favourite armchair with a heavy book open on his chest was exactly how she'd imagined finding him.

She sighed.

It'd been eight years since the fateful Halloween night that had brought Voldemort to their doorsteps. Eight years since peace had reigned and Oliver had been recognized as the one to have brought the end of the worst Dark Lord in history.

Lots of things had changed within that time.

She and James had moved into the Potter Keep for good, reactivating their ancestral wards to ensure their privacy from the rest of the country. The move had been a little hard on James as he hadn't lived here since his father died, but he never complained.

Now that the Dark Lord had been defeated, Lily had wanted to live without the Fideliuscharm on the Potter Keep because that would make it easier for them to have friends over from time to time. But Dumbledore had been reluctant to advise the same, and although James had supported her, he'd done so reluctantly after needing much convincing.

But that had quickly gone out the window when Frank and Alice, their dear friends, had been attacked in their own home. Lily still couldn't suppress a shudder at the fate they had suffered, and she had immediately taken Albus up on the offer to cast the Fideliuson the property. This time, Sirius had asked, almost vehemently, to be made the Secret Keeper, saying that he should've done that in the first place. Suffice to say, thinking about Peter had put them all, especially the remaining Marauders, into another bout of rage, and there had almost been a fight between Sirius and Remus as to who would be the Secret Keeper this time.

She had had no preference on that subject and had left the decision up to James. Since Remus was Oliver's godfather and Sirius was Harry's, both prospects had been fine with her. Sirius had somehow won in the end and James, much to her exasperation, still refused to tell her how to this day.

One additional benefit of growing up away from the majority of the wizarding world was also that Oliver wasn't going to grow up like an arrogant idiot and she'd been thankful to Dumbledore who had pointed this out quite early on to them that the world they lived in was going to treat Oliver like Merlin reincarnate or something equally idiotic, and keeping her impressionable children away from that hero-worship was compulsory.

As her boys grew, Lily had wanted to make sure that she and James showed no favouritism in their behaviour towards either of them. Oliver was the Boy-Who-Lived, but he was still her son just like Harry, and she had vowed to make sure that they were treated fairly and equally and that there was a good sibling bond between the two as they grew up.

And her efforts had paid off, and Harry and Oliver had become thick as thieves. Often, Oliver would help Harry sneak away to the library and Harry would help Oliver pull some pranks on his Dad and his friends. For some unknown reason though, she was never their target.

"Harry, did you forget our teatime again?"

Her son jumped, almost dropping the book. Sitting up straight, he grinned sheepishly at her. "Sorry mum," he said.

Lily smiled knowingly as he hurried to put the book back on the table and arranged the chair back in its usual place.

But then something made her pause. Picking up the book, she turned to her son again.

"Son, how did you get that book? Isn't that from the upper shelf?"

Harry looked like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he averted his eyes, blushing.

"Did Nysa help you get it?" Lily pressed. "You know you could hurt yourself if you practice this stuff. It is not taught until your second year at Hogwarts!"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't ask Nysa. I got it myself."

Lily frowned. "How?"

"Like this," Harry gulped and then held out his hand at the farthest shelf. A book—a second year Transfiguration textbook from the looks of it—came rushing through the air, smacking into his open palm.

Lily stared at her son in disbelief.

"I–since when have you been able to summon things?"

Harry shrugged, looking down at the floor. "This was only the third time," he mumbled, looking guilty. "Please don't be angry, mum. I only wanted to read ahead."

Lily sighed, ruffling his hair a little. "I'm not angry, Harry, only astonished. I didn't realize you were so far ahead."

A few minutes later, while Harry was munching on his sandwiches, Lily was thinking. The shouts of laughter could be heard from the window where James was teaching Oliver flying.

"Do you find my lessons helpful, Harry?" she asked, somewhat anxious for his answer.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I love them, mum." he said in between bites. But from his answer, she somehow knew that he wasn't being completely truthful.

"But?" she pressed.

He frowned and then put his half-eaten sandwich down to look at her.

"I like Potions and love what we've been taught so far," he said, "but I'm bored! I want to learn wand magic!"

"I see," she replied, "what about your brother? Does he also want to learn wand magic?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know." Which to Lily's mind, meant that Oliver wasn't nearly as interested in learning magic as Harry was.

"Harry," she began, "you know that performing magic before you're eleven is dangerous? And you cannot get a wand before you start Hogwarts too."

"I know, mum!" he shook his head, "I've read about it in the Anatomy of Magic!"

"So you know that I can't teach you th–" she hoped he would understand but he cut her off.

"But we have extra wands in storage!" Harry said excitedly, "Grandma Dorea told me I could use them if I want! And if they don't suit, we could also try using your or dad's wand?"

Lily sighed. Harry had quickly become friendly with James' mother's portrait in the library, and he'd converse with her for hours on end about magic if he could. And this was another one of her constant headaches when it came to her elder son.

Harry had taken to magic like a fish to water, and was even more enthusiastic about it than she had been at eleven. She was extremely proud of him for this, but the consequence was that he now spent too much time in the library reading books that looked heavier than him, while his brother flew around the property on James' fifteen year old Cleansweepbroom.

Thinking of Oliver made her almost groan but she resisted. He had already sustained one accident after trying to fly on a more recent broom, and thankfully it wasn't anything major than a wrist injury. But she'd still forbidden him from touching a broom for the next three months and gave James a tongue lashing of the kind she'd not since she was fifteen. Her poor husband had borne the brunt of all her anger with a smile and she'd only later found out that it was in fact Sirius who had given Oliver the broom and not James.

Sometimes, she was still frightened by how loyal those three were towards each other.

"Alright Harry, we will have a family discussion about this after dinner today," she decided, hoping James would have better arguments to present either for or against teaching their nine year old sons some wand magic.

"Will Sirius and Remus be coming too?"

Lily nodded slowly. Maybe that was a good idea.

"I'll invite them."

She smiled warmly when Harry whooped in joy and leapt from his chair to come hug her.

~~ .

July 31, 1991
The Potter Keep

"Oliver, hurry up! We're going to be late!" Harry yelled up the stairs, making James chuckle.

"Son, it's ten in the morning. We're quite early." he cajoled.

"I will not deal with a crowd just because of you, Oliver!" yelled Harry again, making Lily put a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, we're not going to be late. The Alley isn't going anywhere," she said with an expression that made him nod and sit back down with a pout.

James rolled his eyes good naturedly.

"Coming!" Oliver exclaimed, shutting the door to his room in a hurry.

"Oliver—no running on the stairs!" Lily bellowed, making her troublesome son slow down as he descended the stairs.

"Finally," Harry muttered, shaking his head.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Harry, you'll have plenty of time for the bookstore."

"I know I will," Harry ribbed him, "But you won't be able to stare at the new racing brooms all day if we're late."

Oliver looked at him in horror. "Dad, we should leave!" he whined.

Lily took charge. "Alright, what is your name for the day?"

"Dudley Grunnings!" Oliver answered. "Mum, why did I have to take that fat boy's name?"

James snickered and Lily glared at him. "It's just a name, Ollie," she told him. "And you shouldn't speak of him that way, he's your cousin."

"But he isa fat boy," Harry drawled, making her sigh. She still didn't know where he'd picked up this strange way of talking. In her experience, she'd only seen Severus capable of it.

Thinking of her old friend brought a frown to her face. She hadn't talked to him in a long time, almost two years now. After that fateful Halloween, he'd disappeared for a year, and then come back to seek Albus' protection. When Lily had come to know about his betrayal in telling the prophecy to Voldemort, she'd been appalled that the sincere, joyful wizard she knew as a child would grow up to be so hateful.

He'd even come to ask for her forgiveness a year later, and she'd heard him and then told him to leave. He had looked deeply remorseful but she'd been too angry with him at the time. And the fact that he'd only apologized for putting her and her children in danger and not her husband had her seething.

Now though, Harry and Oliver were going to Hogwarts and they'd be meeting Severus soon, who was the head of Slytherin and taught Potions. Although she still hadn't truly forgiven him, there was a chance that she could use his friendship, or whatever remained of it, to make sure he looked after her sons when they were away at the school.

"Harry, that's enough," she said firmly and a few glamour charms later, she ushered them all into the floo.

"Remember to say it loud and clear," James instructed as Oliver jumped into the fireplace to be the first one to go.

"THE LEAKY CAULDRON!" bellowed Oliver as he disappeared into the green flames. One by one, the rest of the family followed.

Rearranging the bricks to gain access to Diagon Alley, Lily and James ushered the twins onto the bustling street.

"So where to first, Harry?" Lily asked.

"Flourish and Blotts!" he announced quickly, making her smile.

"Why don't we split up?" James suggested, "Oliver and I can visit the Apothecary and a few other shops and meet you at Ollivander's?"

Lily agreed and then she was practically dragged away to the bookstore by her inquisitive son. "You still remember the way, Harry? You've only been here once, after all," she asked amusedly.

Harry simply nodded and in less than two minutes, they were indeed entering the premier bookstore of the district.

Twenty-five minutes later, Lily was levitating the bundle of four extra books that Harry had begged her–with those stupid puppy eyes no less—to buy because he wanted to read ahead of his peers. Lily was a master of reading ahead herself, and she, despite her reservations for her eleven year old son to not read advanced textbooks, was rightfully swept away in his enthusiasm. Now, they'd only visited one shop and were already late to Ollivander's.

"We're late," she said, sighing as Harry practically skipped beside her.

"Dad will wait for us anyway, right mum?" Harry asked innocently, and Lily couldn't help but chuckle. Sometimes, he was scarily smart in knowing things that many grown ups couldn't even figure out with their logical brains.

"Yes, Harry," she agreed, "but it's not nice to keep your father and brother waiting, is it?"

He nodded solemnly and then lit up a moment later. "I'll just play Quidditch with Oliver for an extra hour on the weekend. He'll forgive me, I'm sure." He said confidently.

Lily raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was not a bad plan. "And your dad?"

"You can handle dad, can't you?" he said, "I don't think dad will want to remain angry if you tell him off nicely."

"Tell him off nicely?" she parroted in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Harry frowned as if confused. "It's just your thing, mum? Whenever you don't want us to do something, you will scold us but do so in a nice way that makes us feel guilty and we'll stop doing it!"

Lily gaped at him and then shook her head. Harry was smart, almost too smart for this age.

"Don't tell this to your dad and brother," she said finally, unable to form words to fully explain what she was feeling. It was a weird mixture of shock and pride.

"I will never betray your secret, mum," Harry said gravely.

Lily ruffled his hair with a smile as they finally arrived at the old wandmaker's doorstep.

"Where were you?!" Oliver asked. "We've been standing here for twenty minutes already!" But he didn't wait for a retort and pushed open the door to the shop.

"Ah Mr. and Mrs. Potter!" said the wizened old man behind the counter, "Welcome! Is it time for your two boys to get their first wands?"

Harry looked curiously at him. "How did you know it was us?"

Ollivander only smiled in a mysterious manner. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Your father, for example, has a spruce and dragon heartstring wand that is great for transfiguration, while your mother has a willow and unicorn hair wand that is extremely suitable for charm work."

Harry exchanged a surprised glance with his brother.

"So, who is it going to be first?" Ollivander clapped his hands, almost making Oliver jump. "Mr. Potter, should we start with you?"

Harry waited as Oliver was taken to the side and a tape measure began to take measurements from a multitude of points on his body.

And then began a series of wands that Oliver was given to test one by one, many of which having surprisingly dangerous reactions. But the wandmaker remained unfazed.

"Ah! Try this one, Mr. Potter!" the old wandmaker brought a nice smoky-grey wand for him which Oliver gave a twirl and a series of multicoloured birds burst forth from the tip of the wand, fluttering in the ceiling of the shop.

"Success!" Ollivander said, quickly packing the chosen wand. "A red oak and dragon-heartstring wand, a rather uncommon one! Great for powerful and spontaneous magic!"

"Well Mr. Potter, you're next." he said, turning to Harry, "Shall we? If you take half as long as your brother, we'll be here for a while."

And then Harry stepped up for his measurements and began to test the wands that were supplied to him, one after another. Harry began to grow a little annoyed as most of the wands either failed to elicit any sort of reaction or just turned into an explosive in his grasp.

It was at the forty-minute mark that Harry held a nice looking wand but it burst into flames only a second later, shocking all of them. James hurried to check him for any burns while Ollivander quickly began to put off the fire to his desk, making sure to not expose the other wands to the flames.

"Curious, very curious," the wandmaker murmured to himself, looking quite unhappy.

"What is it? What's curious?" Lily asked, her tone sharp as she stood behind Harry, her wand ready in her sleeve to protect him from one too many dangerous wands.

"Nothing, Mrs. Potter," Ollivander said, sighing, "I remember every wand I've ever sold, and this one was a special one. I had thought at least one of your boys would be suitable for it, but it seems that I was wrong."

"What was so special about that wand?" James asked.

"The feather that you just saw was one of the two feathers that the phoenix gave for the construction of two wands. The owner of the brother wand to this one is the one that gave Mr. Potter that scar."

Both Harry and Oliver looked horrified at the revelation.

But after that short lull, Harry continued to test more wands but didn't succeed.

"Well, now that we've tested almost every combination of wood and cores in my shop," Ollivander addressed James, "it seems that I'll have to craft a custom wand for your son, Mr. Potter."

"A custom wand?" Lily pressed. "What does it entail?"

The old wandmaker was all too eager to answer. "A custom wand that takes different kinds of wood and core and tries to find a unique balance between them to suit a wizard or witch. I wouldn't be so excited, Mrs. Potter, if this wasn't the first time that I've been given the opportunity to do so since I've inherited this shop from my grandfather!"

"What does the process involve?" Lily asked, taken aback by his enthusiasm. She glanced at James to see that he was equally as flat-footed by this as her.

"Oh, nothing too onerous!" Ollivander said, "If you'll give me a moment, I will be right back with the necessary items."

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Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 are already up for reading, along with more of my work. The link is in my profile.