» Five years later
Harry stared into the bathroom mirror, slowly moving a cheap plastic toothbrush back and forth across his teeth.
I stared back, patting my mirror-Harry on the shoulder and looking back at the real him.
「 It's your birthday today Harry, congrats. 」I said, smiling faintly.「 You're nine years old now. 」
"So are you." He replied, grinning across at me. The boy finished up, spitting the mint-flavoured toothpaste into the metal basin in front of him. "Happy birthday Artemis."
「 Using my full name now are we. 」I asked, poking the mirror-Harry's cheek.
"Only on birthdays," Harry replied cheekily, reaching forward and placing his hand on the mirror ahead.
I responded in kind, reaching mine forward and placing it against his own; so that we were only separated by the mirror between us.
Harry grinned softly before stepping down from the stool and turning around to walk out through the bathroom door.
My power had evolved over the years, to the point where I could now walk around inside a 'mirror', provided it was big enough; and so long as Harry kept looking into one. The mirror dimension was an exact replica of reality, minus a few small changes and the fact nobody on my side could see me.
Nobody in the real world could see me either, except for Harry of course. I still wasn't sure whether that fact was a curse or a blessing, despite the near-decade I'd had to decide.
Apparently; in the mirror world, I looked almost identical to my brother; so similar in fact that we could have easily been mistaken as twins.
We had the same short curly hair; the same childish but angular face; the same skinny body, and the same V-shaped scar covering our left cheek.
To that end, Sirius had surely done his best, but the man hadn't managed to heal the cut nearly as well as I originally thought he had.
If he had gotten there just a bit sooner then maybe it would have turned out differently. Maybe.
The scar itself was a vivid, prominent white, with tiny curling lines trailing away from the main body and stretching outward across the surrounding skin.
Some of the other kids in the orphanage had tried to bully Harry for it, but the boy was having none of it. Neither was the matron for that matter, and she came down hard and fast onto our aggressors before Harry even got the chance to properly retaliate.
The woman was tall and overbearing; strict but kind. The best kind of role model to have, at least in my opinion. She was certainly a better alternative to the Dursleys.
I think she had a soft spot for Harry because of his scar, as she was far more understanding with him than she was with the others, never mentioning the deformity in his presence.
I was under the assumption that the woman believed that he had been abandoned because of the disfigurement. It was the only explanation that made sense in my eyes.
The only visible difference between us, or so Harry told me, were our hair and eye colours. His hair was coloured a deep firey red, just like Lily's had been, his eyes a brilliant shade of green.
Mine, according to my brother; was an extremely light blonde, with random strands of a dark brown threaded in. My eyes were a piercingly pale blue; and very uncomfortable to look into, as Harry had described them to me.
Vernon and Petunia Dursley had, after Harry's third bought of accidental magic, driven straight across the country - all the way up to Birmingham; and dropped him in front of the first orphanage they could find.
They were terrified of him; terrified of what their nephew's magic might do to themselves or their son when he was eventually provoked into a blind rage.
I wanted to blame them for their decision to leave us, and Harry ultimately did so, but I could sympathise and understand their reasons for abandonment. Magic responded to emotion - that much I had learned first-hand.
If it were my child at risk I would have done the same thing - albeit in a far smarter way. Like mailing the man who had given Harry away to them and explaining their concerns for one. Just an idea.
In any case, I thought that their bout of paranoia concerning exactly where to drop Harry was rather amusing. They had driven all the way across the country just to get rid of him. It was probably the only time they had put any real effort into anything concerning their nephew.
Harry, on the other hand, was frightened out of his mind by their abandonment, but I was there to guide him throughout the whole ridiculous fiasco.
The orphanage staff were confused at first, but quickly came to understand the position Harry was in. They had put him in one of the dorms for the night, promising to find his parents and bring him back to them.
Little Harry had said nothing to dissuade them of their misunderstanding.
The staff and police, of course, had found no evidence of anyone searching for a lost child anywhere in Birmingham, and no matter how much they pressed him, he would not namedrop his family; leaving Harry, after a few days of futile searching by the local law enforcement, to take up a permanent residence in St. Georges orphanage.
Apart from the occasional bullying, which was quickly put to a stop by the Matron and her young assistant Kevin, nothing of note had happened during these past few years.
Hilariously, there had been no accidental magic either, as it seemed to have stopped right after being abandoned by his adoptive family.
The key word to take note of in that sentence however, was accidental.
Harry and I found, that with enough practice and willpower, he was capable of producing small jade-coloured flames that were warm to the touch.
Overall, they weren't really helpful, and they wouldn't actually damage anything unless he wanted them to. They were cool, I admit, but I didn't see any potential use for them.
Harry's aptitude for controlled magic promptly ended at his colourful pyrotechnic abilities; not that he or I cared in the slightest. My brother was utterly content when left alone to play with his glowing magical fire, and I possessed enough tact to not voice any of my apathetic opinions concerning it toward him.
The important part was that I too, could do magic.
Just like with Harry, my first bout of accidental magic had been a weak, short-lived burst of telekinesis.
One sunny Sunday afternoon, most of the kids staying at the orphanage were outside playing football together. Harry and I were chatting offside, discussing a book that the assistant had kindly lent to him earlier that day.
The football had come whizzing toward us, before suddenly halting midair a mere inch away from planting itself into the side of Harry's unsuspecting face.
I was beside myself with shock when it first happened, and I dropped the thing immediately; just like Harry had done with himself after his first time. I recognised my responsibility for the phenomenon immediately.
Thankfully, no one had seen it happen; as from the angle of the players themselves, the ball looked as if it had actually managed to hit him. They apologised profusely to the confused Harry, not wishing to draw the ire of the furious matron who was already stalking across the lawn toward them.
As Harry was being checked over; my astonishment had quickly faded away into an overpowering, mind-numbing relief.
I cried that day.
It was a short, emotional outburst that I wasn't at all proud of.
But I had magic.
And more than that - it had proven to me that I was more than a just spectator.
That I was more than just a figment of Harry's imagination, more than just a fragment of a dead teen passed on.
I was real.
Harry could feel my overwhelming relief, my sadness, and hadn't understood why I felt that way. So he just sat there, whispering words of comfort into my ears just like I had done for him on so many other occasions.
I felt ashamed to have been comforted by a boy who at the time, wasn't even seven years old. The two of us never spoke of it again, a fact which I found myself eternally grateful for.
Up until that point, I had done my best to stay emotionally detached from this world I wasn't even supposed to be a part of; convincing myself that I really couldn't do anything anyway, so why even try?
But now I could do something - I could magic. Even if I didn't have my own body outside of a mirror.
I had no more excuses. I could not justify my apathy anymore.
After that day, I started being more honest with Harry; truly beginning to accept his position in the role I had so carefully moulded him into filling: that of my twin brother.
I didn't feel guilty about the lie we were living, mainly due to the fact my own survival might very well depend on it. But from that point on I vowed to fulfil my role as his elder brother, at least until we were separate people again. If that ever happened at all.
I watched as Harry and a few other kids were walked to the local school by the Matron's assistant. The boy hummed happily, sending me a message via our connection and drawing me out of my reminiscence.
'You remember your promise right?' He asked, and I could hear the anticipation layered beneath his tone.
「 Hmmm. 」I hummed in response.「 And what promise would that be? 」
'Stop being so obtuse Art.' Harry whined playfully. 'Tell me. About how our parents - about how they passed.'
Worth a try.
Despite the circumstances, I let out a small smile.
My sophisticated manner of speaking had rubbed off on him. I doubted there was another nine-year-old in the world with a manner of speaking as refined as Harry's currently was.
「 Are you sure you can balance your schoolwork and questions at the same time? 」 I teased, deflecting Harry's outspoken demand.
Harry just snorted at my antics. 'You know I don't give a rat's ass about the schoolwork. It's too easy anyway. And I know for damn sure you couldn't care less either.'
「 Too true. 」I replied, concealing my hesitancy with a quick and easy admittance.「 Alright then. What do you want to know first? 」
I could sense Harry explode with a mix of excitement and a subdued sense of relief; confirming my assumption that he wasn't entirely sure that I would actually answer his questions or not, despite my earlier promise to do so.
The boy, now confronted with the confirmation he needed, held back his blatant interest in his parents in favour of asking a more sensible question first.
I was almost proud; as he was turning out to be far too much like Sirius for my liking. That man had been an utter nightmare around Harry, causing him to take quite a few beatings from an enraged Lily because of how unserious his attitude usually was.
Restraint was a virtue; one that I suppose I had successfully taught Harry the importance of.
'Why didn't you tell me earlier - the real reason this time.' He demanded, waving goodbye to the smiling Kevin and walking through the open school gates with his fellows.
「 Because of the way they died… 」I openly hesitated this time.「 I didn't want to tell you about that sort of thing when you were younger. Too brutal. 」
'How?' Asked Harry, his casual grin faltering.
「 Are you sure you want to know now? You don't want to wait until we're in a more… Private setting? 」
My brother's jaw set with an uncharacteristic seriousness.
'Tell me now.' He answered, his tone losing its playful edge.
「 Okay then. 」I sighed. I was probably going to regret offering this information so early on. But Harry had been expecting this explanation since he was four; my promise having always been at the forefront of his mind. Betraying that trust now was an absolute no-go.「 They were attacked by the wizarding equivalent of terrorists. Death Eaters as they were called. Our father went down first. He was… Cut in half with magic while trying to buy our mother enough time to escape with us. 」
I paused, watching as Harry removed his bag and seated himself at his school desk rigidly.
'Continue.' My brother said, putting on a fake smile that he flashed toward the teacher as he was handed some starter work to do.
I vaguely wondered again, whether it was a good idea to tell him this in a public environment.『 Oh well, too late to back out now. 』
「 Mother took us from our crib and ran. She almost got away, but she was caught by another Death Eater who ambushed her outside. The man brought her back into the house and one of his fellows used magic to torture her to death. We were saved by our godfather moments later. We were extremely lucky. 」
Harry blanked for a solid moment, before his breath hitched, and I saw a faint green glow flash from inside his clenched fist. A faint curl of smoke escaped through his clenched fingers. The boy's pencil was burning.
"What were they called?" He asked quietly, this time aloud.
I sincerely hoped he meant his parents' names, not his attackers.
「 James and Lily Potter. 」I replied, watching as Harry's vision began to blur with unshed tears.「And they died protecting us. 」I hesitated slightly before continuing.「 It's no consolation I know, but be proud of that. I know I am. 」
I didn't really understand how he could cry over people he had never met; or at least, couldn't even remember. Well, it was probably an appropriate reaction for someone of his age.
My brother put his head on his desk and buried his face in his arms. He jolted suddenly, his somewhat delayed reaction putting me on edge.
'You had to watch it happen, didn't you?' He asked slowly, voice beginning to shake.
『 That's a very astute conclusion to come to. He's scarily intelligent nowadays. 』I thought absentmindedly, deciding not to answer his question.
"Fuck." Harry cursed loudly, catching the attention of the girl who sat next to him.
She looked thoroughly offended, but Harry didn't care.
The boy took a minute to carefully dry his tears before looking back up again.
Harry stared down at the multiplication table before him, balling his fists together tightly. The pencil, still brittle from the heat of his magical flames, crumbled into charcoal under the strain.
The boy pushed its remains and the multiplication table away from him, his apathy toward being assigned something so ridiculously easy evaporating into a boiling fury.
He was past sorrow now. So quickly too.
Was that normal?
"I'll kill them." He vowed, his gaze sliding across and landing on the window to our left.
I stared back, my expression unreadable.
My brother's eyes burned bright with an angry defiance.
The look on Harry's face reminded me of the one Lily had worn, right before Bellatrix had tortured her into insanity.
Consciously, I prayed the same thing didn't end up happening to him too.
"One day I will." He continued, looking back down at his work in disgust. "I swear it."
『 Great. 』I thought cynically.『 I should've expected as much. He's going to get the both of us killed one day, isn't he? 』
It occurred to me that Harry might have already been robbed of his revenge; as Sirius may have gotten to the Lestranges first, given that he had stayed behind to defend the escaping Hagrid.
Our godfather had seemed like a damn good duelist from the way he cleaned up Barty and Rabastan with minimal effort, furious as he was.
Well, one could only hope.
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〘 A/N: Another info-heavy chapter, a bit of a headache to read I know, but I have deemed them necessary due to the lengthy timeskips surrounding Harry's early days. This will be the last chapter of its type, which means we'll be onto consistently progressive content from now on. 〙