SUMMARY

Harry James Potter is the only person to have ever survived the Avada Kedavra curse. Unfortunately, his twin brother, Michael Stephen Potter, is mistakenly proclaimed as the Boy-Who-Lived' instead. As he grows up, Harry becomes withdrawn and distant from his family. However, when Harry and Michael receive their Hogwarts letters, Harry sees it as a chance to finally prove his worth to everyone…

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank…

This website – For providing a forum where people like me can write stuff that people will actually get to see. Also thanks to those who have encouraged this spin-off the 'The Lone Traveller'

J.K. Rowling – They are her characters after all.

CHAPTER ONE – The First of September.

"No, please..." pleaded the voice of his mother.

"Stand aside!" sneered another voice.

"No…" he heard his mother's voice say, terrified yet defiant.

He heard his mother scream as the other voice sneered the word "Crucio." The screaming soon stopped when he saw another flash fill the room.

"Foolish woman!" the voice snarled. "You truly believed you could protect your children from me? You cannot even protect yourself!"

He suddenly saw the man whose voice sounded so cold and full of malice – a tall, pale figure with red eyes that seemed to shimmer with hate. His brother began to cry beside him, but he merely looked at the strange figure who had just hurt his mother. This seemed to puzzle and infuriate the stranger, but this quickly turned into what almost looked like a look of regret.

"It is a pity I could not have you as an ally, young Potter, but you are a threat to me," he said, "And threats must be eliminated."

The stranger's face became emotionless as he pointed his wand straight at him.

"Avada Kedavra."

The last thing he saw was a blinding flash of green, but he also heard a yell of horror as he drifted into unconsciousness.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry James Potter woke up with a start and sat up in his bed. He could feel the cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he placed his hand on his forehead and breathed deeply. It was the same dream as always – the one about that one Halloween night that had changed everything.

Before that night, he had been a perfectly content one-year old boy, but after that, even at that age, he had noticed that things had changed. His mother no longer seemed to spend as much time with him as she did with his twin brother, Michael, and, when she was born, Annie, while the boys' father and godfather seemed to pay more attention to Michael, deeming his brother 'the next Marauder'. Worst of all was the attention Michael seemed to receive from complete strangers. They had always said how much it was an 'honour' and a 'privilege' to meet his brother, while barely giving Harry a second look. It wasn't until much later that someone explained to him the Michael was famous the world over as the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. That had made the then six-year-old feel an emotion that most six-year-olds knew nothing about – bitterness.

Harry looked up at the clock on the wall – five to eight in the morning. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of his bunk, ducking his head slightly as he stood up. He looked up at the brown haired boy in the top bunk, still asleep. He considered waking him, but decided against it. Mum'll probably be yelling up the stairs any minute now, he reasoned as he changed out of his pyjamas and into a black T-shirt and pale blue jeans. Sure enough, as he pulled the green sweater over his head, he heard his mother's voice yell up the stairs…

"Michael! Harry! Time to get up! Your breakfast is almost on the table!"

"I doubt it," muttered Harry as he left the bedroom just as his brother was awoken from his slumber. He walked slowly down the stairs, and made his way to the kitchen. There he found his mother, making breakfast, and his little sister sitting patiently at the table – neither seemed to notice his presence. And I should be surprised, because? he asked himself sarcastically. He entered the kitchen quietly and went to sit down at the table. His sister looked up as he did this.

"Morning Harry," she said, looking in his direction. "Morning Michael."

Harry turned around and saw that Michael had just entered the kitchen behind him, already fully dressed. Merlin, how did he get dressed so fast! Harry wondered until he realised just how slowly he had actually walked down the stairs – some of the portraits had noticed how slowly he was going and grinned at him. One, a picture of his grandfather, even joked about Harry's 'nervousness'. "After all, the twins are starting Hogwarts today." the portrait had said, thereby sparking much discussion among the family pictures that lined the staircase wall about their first days at Hogwarts.

His mother turned around when she heard her daughter speak. "Oh," she said with a surprised expression on her face. "I didn't think you two would be up already."

"Of course they're up early," said her husband as he entered the kitchen. "Everyone gets up bright and early on their first day, Lils. Besides, I'm sure Michael…"

Harry ignored the rest of what his father said as he sat down at the table. Michael, he thought bitterly. It's always about Michael. 'Michael this' and 'Michael that' – would it kill either of them just to talk about me, or even us, just this once?

He sighed slightly, earning him a puzzled look from his sister. They'll take notice of me soon enough, he thought, trying not to smirk as the rest of his family sat down at the table and breakfast was laid out.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry entered the compartment with his brother and sat down next to the window, trying not to feel guilty about his reaction to his mother giving him a goodbye hug. He closed his eyes, trying not to picture his mother's face when she let go of him – his body had tensed up when she embraced him, which had probably upset her greatly. He hadn't meant to do it, but his mother's goodbye had caught him off guard. The idea that his mother might say goodbye to him as well as Michael simply hadn't occurred to him. He glanced at his brother beside him – he was still giving Harry the same look of surprise and disapproval he had given Harry back on the platform. He's going to say something any second now, Harry thought. He'll probably take the moral high ground and berate me for upsetting Mum, I just know it. Well, Mr Family Favourite, if you want to give me a good talking to, then take your best shot.

However, before Michael could say anything, they both heard a voice at the compartment door.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" asked a red-haired boy with freckles.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.

"Yeah, it's okay," said Michael, forgetting any anger he had towards his brother.

Harry looked at his near-identical twin brother, trying to hide his frustration. Can't he let me speak, just for once? Harry wondered as he regarded his slightly older brother. Why does him being a bloody celebrity mean I'm not even allowed to speak? As his brother began speaking to the red-haired boy, who Harry soon recognised as being one of the Weasleys, Harry glanced at the scar across his brother's forehead. It was a lot bigger and more ragged than his own, which was smaller and tidier, if such a word could be applied to a scar. Harry had figured out exactly how his brother had received that gash across his forehead – when the Voldemort had tried to kill Harry, most of the killing curse had rebounded and annihilated the Dark Lord's body. Some of the curse, however, had sent several large splinters of wood from the cot flying everywhere. One such piece of wood had most likely collided with Harry's twin, leaving a large, jagged, almost lightning shaped scar across his brother's forehead. It was no doubt because of the scar's size that Dumbledore it had been assumed to be a result of the killing curse, whereas Harry's much smaller scar had been deemed as being a side-effect from his proximity to Michael and Voldemort on that fateful night. Since that night, Michael had become famous the world over as 'The Boy Who Lived', the one who had vanquished Voldemort.

Meanwhile, the real 'Boy Who Lived' gets ignored, thought Harry bitterly. Though this was a slight exaggeration, it was true to the extent that his brother had always received more than his fair share of parental attention, and as such, Harry yearned to break free of his brother's shadow and prove himself. I'll show them, Harry thought. They'll have to notice me when I out-perform him in just about everything. Harry was looking forward to his parents seeing his first report. After all, he had not spent his life moping and sulking about his twin's unearned fame and attention. He had raided the library in their house in Godric's Hollow and had learnt as much as he possibly could. Right now, as he was about to enter his first year at Hogwarts, his knowledge was probably on par with that of a second or third year, or perhaps even a fourth year.

Harry was distracted from his thoughts as the compartment door opened and a girl with long, bushy hair entered. "Have you seen a Toad anywhere?" she asked. Everyone present shook their heads. She then resumed the search for the errant Toad as the Weasley, who had identified himself as being Ron Weasley, was trying to turn his pet rat, Humphrey, bright yellow, using a spell one of his older brothers had apparently given him. The girl, hearing the obviously fake spell, commented on it before introducing herself as 'Hermione Granger'.

"Ron Weasley," said Ron, his ears going red with embarrassment at Hermione's comment about the fake spell.

"I'm Michael," said Harry's brother. "Michael Potter, and this is my little brother, Harry."

Harry closed his mouth again. Merlin, can't he even let me introduce myself? I mean, he hasn't let me say a damn word since we got on this train, thought Harry irritably. And since when am I his 'little' brother. Yes, I am younger than him by, like, two minutes, but I'm his TWIN brother, not his 'little' brother!

A few minutes later, the owner of the lost Toad, joined them in the compartment. Harry and Michael already knew Neville Longbottom – both their families were good friends. They all started to talk, except for Harry, who didn't seem to be a part of the conversation, no matter how hard he tried to join in. Eventually, after yet another interruption by Michael, Harry got up and went to leave the compartment.

"Hey, bro'," said Michael. "Where're you going?"

Harry glared at his brother, but said nothing and left the compartment.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked, confused.

Michael shrugged. "Dunno," he said plainly. "I gave up trying to understand him a long time ago."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry walked through the train until he found a compartment that wasn't full. The sole occupant looked up as Harry entered.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" Harry asked, echoing Ron Weasley's words.

The boy, who looked about Harry's age, nodded and Harry sat down. He looked at Harry for a few seconds before sitting up slightly. "Hold on… you're…" the boy began.

Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the traditional 'you're Michael Potter's brother, aren't you?' line.

"… Harry Potter, right?" the boy finished.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked. Did he just…? He did! He actually recognised me as Harry Potter! Harry nodded slightly, overwhelmed at not being referred to as 'Michael's brother' for once.

The other boy nodded. "I thought I recognised you from somewhere," he said. "You and your family came over to dinner at mine one time, remember?"

Harry looked at the olive-skinned boy with the dark blue eyes and dark, slightly curly hair. Now that he thought about it, he did recognise the boy from somewhere. He tried thinking back to all the dinners his family had been invited to.

"Zabini," remembered Harry after a slight pause. "Blaise Zabini, right?"

The boy grinned. "Yup. That's me."

The two boys talked for a while about nothing in particular. After telling each other about their families were getting on, the subject of Howarts came up.

"So, which house do you think you'll end up in?" asked Blaise.

"Dunno," shrugged Harry. "My Dad wants me and my brother to end up in Gryffindor, like him and Mum. Personally, I don't really mind, just as long as it's not the same one as Michael."

Blaise looked at Harry curiously. "You two don't get along, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. I mean, we've never been real brothers if you think about it. He's been busy basking in the attention of the world, while I've been pretty much ignored. Y'know, I bet my Dad probably couldn't even tell you anything about me. Hobbies, likes and dislikes, outlook on life – nothing.

Blaise nodded. "I got that impression when you came around last year. The fact that everyone paid attention to your brother and everything."

"Everyone but you," Harry noted. Blaise had in fact seemed a lot more interested in Harry than Michael, though Harry couldn't think for the life of him why.

"Yeah, well…" said Blaise modestly. He changed the subject back to the Sorting. "Anyway, neither of my parents went to Hogwarts, so I don't have any parental templates to follow, though they're both hoping I go into Slytherin." He paused slightly, thinking of his non-Death Eater, but still fanatic Pureblood parents. "Besides, whatever it is that puts you into each house is supposed to sort you based on personality."

"Yeah, I read about it somewhere," nodded Harry. "Each house places an emphasis one particular aspect. For Gryffindors, it's courage. For Ravenclaws, it's intelligence. For Hufflepuffs, it's loyalty and hard work. And with Slytherin, it's ambition and the will to prove yourself." That's probably where I'll end up, thought Harry as he said this.

"I wonder what it is that sorts us?" wondered Blaise. "A couple of twins in third year said we have to wrestle Trolls and a fifth year said they put our names in a hat and get the heads of house to pick names."

Harry smirked at these suggestions, though the second one was probably fairly close to the truth – he had overheard his parents talking about it the previous day and had heard them mention something called the 'Sorting Hat'. "Well, if it's the Trolls, we can always send Michael in first and hope the 'Boy-Who-Lived' softens them up enough for us," he said.

Blaise chuckled slightly at this suggestion. "Somehow I doubt it would do us much good," he said, before looking at Harry with a serious look on his face. "He's not the Boy-Who-Lived, is he?" he said suddenly.

Harry looked at Blaise, unsure how to react. Did he just say…? Merlin, he did! "How… what makes you think that?" stuttered Harry.

Blaise looked at Harry and nodded slightly. "I thought so," he said. "Your scar looks more like a side-effect of a curse than your brother's does."

"Um, well…" Harry tried to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"Plus, he seems too normal. You, on the other hand, aren't," continued Blaise.

"Oh," said Harry sarcastically. "Thanks."

"Sorry. That came out wrong," apologised Blaise. "What I mean is that there's something about you that just seems… different."

Harry nodded, but said nothing.

"So, uh…" said Blaise cautiously, "What really happened?"

Harry sighed, but before he could say anything, his brother stuck his head through the compartment door.

"There you are," he said. "C'mon bro', we're nearly at Hogwarts."

Harry cursed his brother under his breath as he and Blaise got up to go and change into their school robes.

XxXxXxXxXxX

As he stood in line with the other first years, listening to the Sorting Hat's song, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. So that's the 'Sorting Hat' my parents were talking about, thought Harry. Merlin, please don't tell me that's what sorts us! He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his brother was equally nervous, as was Blaise, who was right at the end of the alphabetically ordered queue. Indeed, there was a certain air of worry through the entire queue. They're probably just nervous because the whole school's watching, he concluded. Though that fact was making him nervous too, he had other worries on top of that. Oh Merlin, please don't let it put me in the same house as Michael. I don't care if we are twins and everything, just put us in separate houses…

When the Sorting Hat had finished it's song, the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, stepped forward and began to read out names from a piece of parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah," she said, reading out the first name on the list.

A blonde girl with pigtails stepped forward nervously and was instructed to sit down and place the Sorting Hat on her head. She did so and a few seconds later, the strange hat yelled out "HUFFLEPUFF!" The girl quickly got up and took the hat off before joining the applauding Hufflepuff table. So that's how it's done, thought Harry. It must read your mind or something and decide which house you'd do the best in.

"Appleby, Roger," called out McGonagall.

Harry watched as a small fair-haired boy stepped forward and placed the hat on his head, just as Hannah had done. There was a slight pause, longer than the last one, before the hat's voice shouted "SLYTHERIN!" The boy, still shaking like a leaf, got up and made his way to the Slytherin table, which Harry noticed wasn't applauding their newest addition in the same way Hufflepuff had applauded theirs.

The Sorting continued as "Bones, Susan", "Boot, Terry", "Brocklehurst, Mandy", "Brown, Lavender", "Bulstrode, Millicent" and "Corner, Michael" (Harry couldn't help but wince slightly at the word 'Michael') all stepped forward and joined various houses. Harry ignored the other sortings, save for "Granger, Hermione", who became a Gryffindor after a slight pause, "Longbottom, Neville", who after a long pause joined Gryffindor, and "Malfoy, Draco", who, to no one's surprise, became a Slytherin the second the hat touched his head.

Almost my turn, he thought as he watched "Parkinson, Pansy" join Slytherin. He watched as one of the two identical looking girls in front of him, "Patil, Padma" stepped forward and joined Ravenclaw.

"Patil, Parvati," said McGonagall.

They're twins?!? Harry thought as he watched Padma's twin put the hat on her head. Maybe she won't go to Ravenclaw, thought Harry, allowing himself a little bit of hope. Maybe it'll put her somewhere else, like…

"GRYFFINDOR!" proclaimed the Sorting Hat. Harry stared, gobsmacked, at the hat as Parvati took it off and joined the applauding Gryffindors. Indeed, Harry just barely noticed McGonagall's voice when she called out…

"Potter, Harry."

Maybe I won't have to be in the same house as Michael after all, Harry thought as he stepped forward, sat on the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

Ah, a Potter, said the voice of the Sorting Hat, echoing in Harry's mind. I must say it's been a while. Now, let's see. Well, you are certainly very different from your parents. Indeed, I feel you would fit in well in any of the four houses. You have plenty of courage, of which Gryffindor would most certainly have approved and you are very loyal to those you feel deserve your loyalty, so Hufflepuff is certainly an option as well. You also have a good thirst for knowledge, which would serve you well in Ravenclaw. However, your thirst to prove yourself worthy is stronger – very strong indeed. And so much cunning… Perhaps Slytherin would serve you best – unless you have any preferences, young Potter.

Just don't put me with my brother, thought Harry, hoping that this strange hat could hear him.

Ah, I see you desire to be free of your brother's proverbial shadow. In that case, I have made my choice, said the voice of the Hat. Harry James Potter, I hereby place you in "SLYTHERIN!!!"

Harry closed his eyes as the hat yelled out that last word, earning several gasps from around the hall. Ignoring them, Harry removed the hat and turned to his brother, who was gaping at him as if he were Voldemort himself.

"Your turn, 'brother'," he smirked before joining the Slytherin table.

As he sat down in one of the empty chairs near the fair-haired boy named 'Roger Appleby', Harry watched as McGonagall regained her composure and called out Michael's name. There was a tense silence as Michael stepped forward. They're worried that the Sorting Hat'll put him in Slytherin too, Harry reckoned. Oh Merlin, please, don't let that happen.

However, it turned out that Harry had little to worry about, as the Sorting Hat quickly proclaimed Michael as being a "GRYFFINDOR!" The Gryffindor table exploded when they heard this. Harry watched as Michael joined the Gryffindor table and was showered with grins, handshakes and congratulations while two red-heads, No doubt the Weasley twins Harry thought, started singing what sounded like "We got Potter!" Harry's fists clenched slightly as he realised that none of the Slytherins had seemed too bothered about the fact that they now had a Potter of their own. In fact, they had applauded Harry less than the fair-haired boy sitting near him, who Harry reckoned was probably a Muggle-born to have received the response he had received. Fine, if they want to ignore me, then it's their loss when they finally learn the truth.

By now, the last few students were being sorted. Harry watched as "Weasley, Ronald" joined the Gryffindor table before the penultimate student, a boy with very short dark hair named "Westwood, Spencer" put the hat on his head. There was a pause before the hat decided on "SLYTHERIN!"

Alright Blaise, your turn, thought Harry as Spencer Westwood approached the Slytherin table. He watched as McGonagall called out the last name on her list and Blaise sat down on the stool. There was a pause, similar to the one that preceded Spencer's sorting, before the hat yelled out for the final time – "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry noticed Spencer smile at this as the boy sat down near him. I guess he already knows Blaise, thought Harry as Blaise approached the applauding table. Blaise, a member of the well respected pure-blood Zabini family, sat down in the empty seat between Harry and Spencer as Dumbledore made a short speech of welcome.

"Well," said Blaise when the feast began. "Good to see I'm in a house with people I know."

Spencer chuckled at this. "Y'know, for a while there, I thought that old hat might not put us in the same house."

Blaise nodded. "Yeah, me too." He turned to Harry. "Oh, sorry. Harry, this is Spencer Westwood." He then turned to Spencer. "Spence, this is Harry Potter."

Spencer looked at Harry suspiciously, then back at Blaise. "Your family knows the Potter family?" he asked.

"Not really," replied Blaise. "We had them over for dinner once."

"Oh," said Spencer. "Um. Look, I'm…"

"For the last time, it doesn't matter," interrupted Blaise. "Besides, I had Harry for company, right Harry?"

Harry nodded. "So, I take it you two know each other."

Blaise and Spencer both nodded. "We live fairly close to each other," explained Spencer.

As the feast took place around them, the three boys began to talk, though Harry avoided telling them too much about himself to begin with. After a while, Blaise and 'Spence', as Blaise called him, started talking to each other about something they had done about a year ago involving a bunch of Pixies and a dinner party Blaise's parents were having.

They'd probably have fitted in with Dad and his friends when they were at school, thought Harry as he swallowed a mouthful of potato. He turned and saw Roger Appleby eating his food, not speaking to anyone. He's probably just shy, thought Harry. Not that I can blame him after the tepid welcome he received. Maybe I should try talking to him.

"Hey, uh, Roger," said Harry. "Could you, uh, pass me that jug of Pumpkin juice?"

Roger looked at him nervously before passing Harry the jug.

"Thanks," said Harry. He poured himself some Pumpkin juice, even though he wasn't a great lover of the stuff. "So, uh, what do you think of Hogwarts so far?"

Roger looked up from his food and gave Harry a look of surprise. "Um…" he stammered. "Well, I dunno yet. I mean, I'm glad I'm here, but I don't think the others are."

Harry looked around the table at the rest of the Slytherins. "I wouldn't worry about it. Slytherins are a very exclusive bunch. If you're not a pure-blood or a nasty little sneak, then most of them'll give you the cold shoulder."

"Pure-blood?" said Roger. "Oh."

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, though he had already guessed the answer.

"Well, it's just that my parents are… Muggles," he said, pausing slightly before saying the word 'Muggles'. "I didn't think that was a problem though."

"Unfortunately, some people think it is," said Blaise as he and Spencer joined the conversation.

"Yeah," agreed Spencer. "It's pathetic really, but that's the way it goes."

From that moment until the feast's end, the four boys talked about themselves, their families, the school and the Sorting.

"Yeah, it was really weird," said Roger. "I just heard this voice echoing through my head, saying I would do well in both Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Said my 'thirst for knowledge' and 'desire to do well' were strong. I was beginning to think it wouldn't be able to decide when it suddenly said something about sensing that I was destined for great things in Slytherin, so it sent me over here."

"Strange," said Spencer. "It did something similar with me – couldn't decide whether to put me in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Then it said something about me 'wanting to live up to everyone's expectations', what with my brother being so good at everything and such." He turned his head in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. "You see the Prefect with the dark hair? Y'know, the one beside the blonde girl drinking the Pumpkin juice?" he said, pointing at a fifth year. Harry and Roger nodded.

"You never told me Nathan was a Prefect!" exclaimed Blaise.

"I was going to on the train but I got sidetracked by Nathan and his buddies," said Spencer in response. He then continued addressing Harry and Roger. "Anyway, not only has my brother been made a Prefect, but he's been Hufflepuff's best Chaser since his second year." He sighed slightly when he said this. "Well, the Sorting Hat said something about me feeling the need to do just as well as, if not better than, my brother, before putting me in Slytherin. Merlin, it was weird."

Blaise nodded. "What's weirder is that the same thing happened with me. The hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw, before saying something about me wanting to 'do my parents proud', so it put me in Slytherin."

"Really?" said Roger. "What about you, Harry? Did it do the same with you too?"

The three boys watched Harry as he nodded. "It reckoned I would do well in all the houses, though I think it was leaning slightly towards Slytherin," said Harry, wondering if he should tell the others about how the Sorting Hat offered him a choice. After a slight pause, he decided to tell them. "Anyway, it asked me if I had any preferences," continued Harry.

"You mean you CHOSE Slytherin?" exclaimed Spencer.

"Not directly," replied Harry shaking his head. "I said… thought… told it I didn't mind as long as it didn't put me in with my brother. When it heard that, it put me in Slytherin."

There was a slight pause.

"You mean…" stammered Roger. "You… you just wanted to make sure you weren't in the same house as your brother? Don't you get along?"

"Nope," answered Harry. "Never have, never will."

"But why?" asked Roger. "I mean, he seemed popular with the Gryffindors…"

"People like him because he's famous," said Blaise.

"Famous?" said Roger.

"Michael Potter's also known as 'The Boy-Who-Lived'," explained Spencer. "The only person to ever survive the Avada Kedavra curse and the one who defeated You-Know-Who when he was a baby…"

"His name's Voldemort," said Harry in a cold voice, ignoring the Spencer's shudder and incredulous stare. "And all Michael did that night was cry and get hit in the head by a piece of splintered wood," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

There was a long silence between the four boys, though fortunately, none of the other Slytherins had heard the word 'Voldemort' or Harry's outburst about his brother.

XxXxXxXxXxX

About a minute later, the Welcoming Feast ended and the students were instructed to follow the Prefects to the Common Rooms.

"This way," instructed a tall sixth year Prefect. The first years were then lead from the Great Hall down several corridors and a few flights of stairs to the Slytherin common room, which Harry reckoned must have been originally a Dungeon. After being told what the current password was, the first years were lead into the common room and told to sit down.

"The Head of House will address you shortly," said the Prefect.

Harry sat there, trying not to look impatient. Oh god, does this 'Head of House' always take this long? he wondered after a good five minutes. He looked around and saw that both Blaise, Roger and Spencer, all three of them sitting nearby, were looking at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. When the rest of the first years started talking among themselves, Blaise, who was sitting closest to Harry, leaned over towards him.

"You okay, Harry?" Blaise asked with a concerned voice.

Harry nodded but said nothing.

"Look, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, and…" continued Blaise, but he quickly stopped as a tall, dark-haired figure made his entrance to the common room. The figure, who most correctly guessed as being the Slytherin Head of House, stood before them and addressed them with a quiet, but somehow powerful voice.

"I would like to welcome you all to the House of Slytherin," he began. "I am Professor Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, and as such, you are my responsibility." He gazed around the room in an almost unnerving manner before continuing. "You will be shown to your dorms after I have finished. The boys' dorms are up the staircase to your left and girls to your right. Lessons will begin tomorrow morning after you receive your timetables at breakfast at 8 o'clock, understood?" He paused slightly, though everyone knew that they weren't supposed to respond. "And before you go, I would like to warn you that I will not tolerate anyone who brings shame or embarrassment to this house. If I hear of any rule-breaking or receive any complaints from teachers concerning any inappropriate behaviour, you will be punished severely." He looked at the first years once more. "That is all," he said after a slight pause. "Now go to your dorms and be ready for your lessons tomorrow."

With that, Snape turned and left the common room, his cape billowing behind him. So that's Severus Snape, thought Harry as the caped figure disappeared through the portrait hole. Maybe Dad was right about him after all.

"Alright," proclaimed the Prefect who had led the first years to the common room. "Listen carefully. My name is Dalton Point. I and my fellow Prefects, Miss Francis, Miss Strange and Mr Rockford, will now be showing you to your appointed dorms. The girls will follow Miss Francis and Miss Strange to their dorms. The boys will follow myself and Mr Rockford."

Dalton Point and 'Mr Rockford' led the first year boys up several flights of stairs before stopping outside one of the dorms, marked 'First Year A'.

"Now, as there are more of you than we usually get, there will be two first year dorms," said Dalton. He turned to his fellow Prefect. "Have you got the list, Jonas?" he asked.

Jonas Rockford nodded and produced a piece of parchment.

"Okay," said Dalton. "As you can see from the sign above the door, this dorm will be known as 'First Year Dormitory A' and the one upstairs will be 'Dormitory B'."

Taking his cue, Jonas then began to read several names from the list. "The following people have been assigned to this dorm," he proclaimed. "Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Draco Malfoy, Edmund Marcus and Theodore Nott."

Harry, Blaise, Spencer and Roger all watched as the five boys entered their new dorm before being led even further up the stairs by the two Prefects. Unbelieveable, thought Harry. Who'd have thought the first people I met would be my roommates? He glanced at the one boy he didn't know. The boy was taller, and probably a bit older, than Harry and seemed to have an almost surly expression on his face as they walked up the stairs. Why do I have a feeling we're not gonna get along? Harry thought as the group reached the top of the stairs.

"Well, this is it," said Dalton, indicated the doorway to 'First Year B'. "Make yourselves at home."

"You should know that you're very lucky to have a dorm at the top," added Jonas. "This dorm is just above ground level and, as such, has a window. Apparently, you get a nice view of the lake from that window."

The two Prefects ushered the five boys inside before leaving them. All their stuff was already there, sitting in the middle of the room. Harry was the first to approach his trunk and drag it to the nearest bed, which just happened to be right next to the coveted window. Both Blaise and Spencer followed suit, shortly followed by Roger, who all chose the beds nearest Harry's, leaving their roommate with the bed nearest the door.

"Um…" said Roger uncertainly, seeing the look the unnamed roommate was giving him. "You okay with that bed or d'you want to swap?"

"No," said the mystery roommate in a plain, almost cold voice. "I was going to take this bed anyway."

"Fair enough," said Roger, only to receive a glare from the roommate when he said that. "So, uh, what's your name?" he asked.

The boy sneered at Roger. "I knew it! You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"I… well, no," stammered Roger, bewildered by the boy's response. "Should I?"

"No," said the boy shaking his head. "I didn't expect a Mudblood like you to know anything about your betters."

Harry and Spencer glared at the boy disbelievingly, while Blaise just groaned.

"Oh, of all the people I had to share a dorm with, it had to be Cuthbert Garrett…" muttered Blaise.

"Garrett?" exclaimed Spencer as he recognised the name of the well-respected Pure-Blood family.

Cuthbert Garrett turned and looked at Spencer. "Ah, yes. Westwood, is it?" he smirked. "Yes, I thought I smelt the stench of a blood-traitor when I was downstairs." Ignoring the murderous looks on the faces of Blaise and Spencer, he turned and addressed Harry. "And Harry Potter." he continued, oblivious to the fact that Harry was slowly taking his wand from his pocket. "As if having a Mudblood in Slytherin wasn't bad enough, we also get the son of a Mudblood…"

"Stupefy," muttered Harry.

Hearing this, Cuthbert noticed the wand in Harry's hand just as the Stunning Spell hit him. The spell's power sent a now unconscious Cuthbert flying backwards onto his bed. The others stared at Harry incredulously.

"What?" said Harry, innocently. "He needed shutting up."

There was an awkward pause, when, to Harry's surprise, Spencer and Blaise started laughing, while Roger stayed quiet.

They four boys ignored the unconscious form of Cuthbert Garrett as they unpacked and continued their conversation from where it left off in the Great Hall. Harry soon found himself telling the others his version of what had happened that night. Both Blaise, who had already figured it out, and Roger, who was still very new to the Wizarding world, nodded as Harry finished telling him his side of the story, however Spencer wasn't quite as convinced.

"But if you are the real 'Boy-Who-Lived', why haven't you told anyone?" asked Spencer.

"I've tried a few times before, but I just got ignored or yelled at and branded as being jealous of my brother," answered Harry.

Spencer nodded slightly. "Makes sense," he muttered. "Alright Harry, let's say you are the real 'Boy-Who-Lived', then how come Dumbledore proclaimed to the world that Michael was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'? And why did they ignore your scar if, as Blaise says, yours looks more like a curse scar than your brother's?"

"Couple of reasons, I guess," responded Harry. "One, I was unconscious and Michael wasn't. Two, Michael's scar is bigger and more noticeable than mine, so mine was explained away as being a side-effect of my proximity to them. And three, Michael was always a more happy and fun-loving boy whereas I was more serious about things, even when I was a baby apparently. That somehow means that Michael has more good in him than me and is therefore more likely to be the Light side's great champion against the forces of evil."

Eventually, after more questions from Spencer, Harry seemed to convince Spencer that he was at least just as likely to be the real 'Boy-Who-Lived' as Michael. When they were done talking, they all got ready for bed. As the others got into their beds, Harry realised that he'd better do something about Cuthbert before he woke up and got him into trouble. He went over to Cuthbert and dragged him out of the door. Just outside the door, Harry hit Cuthbert's head off the floor slightly, just enough to hurt when he was woken up, before laying him in a position that suggested that he had tripped and knocked himself out. He then took out his wand and pointed it at Cuthbert.

"Obliviate," he muttered. He watched as a quick flash emanated from his wand and hit Cuthbert on the forehead. That should do it, thought Harry. There go the last ten minutes of his memory. Hopefully, when he wakes up, he won't remember anything after Snape's little talk.

As he put his wand back in his pocket, he heard someone coming up the stairs. Time to put those acting skills of mine to use, thought Harry, as he took a few steps up the staircase so he was just above Cuthbert and yelled for help. Immediately, the footsteps hastened and Dalton Point came rushing up the stairs.

"What happened?" he exclaimed as he rounded the corner and saw Cuthbert's prone form lying on the floor.

"I… I dunno," Harry lied. "I just… found him like this…"

Harry suppressed a smirk as Cuthbert was promptly levitated to the hospital wing ("He might have given himself a concussion." Dalton had concluded.) before re-entering his dorm. Blaise and Spencer were giving him impressed looks.

"Merlin's beard, Harry," exclaimed Blaise. "That was brilliant!"

Spencer nodded in agreement. "Bloody hell, Harry. First you stun him with a spell we first years aren't really supposed to know, then you use a Memory Charm on 'Mr Pureblood Fanatic' back there and convince Point that Garrett tripped." He looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right. I mean, I really can't picture your brother being able to top that."

"How do you know all those spells?" Roger asked suddenly. "I read that Memory Charms aren't taught until at least sixth year, yet you can do that and Stunning Spells in first year!"

"I've read a lot," shrugged Harry.

"So what else can you do?" asked Spencer eagerly.

"I'll tell you in the morning Spence," said Harry as he climbed into his bed.

"Fair enough," relented Spencer as he extinguished the lights.

"'Night," said Roger.

"'Night Rodge," replied Harry, as did the others.

Harry lay there in the dark, thinking about the day that had just gone by. Well, it went better than expected. thought Harry. I didn't expect to stun anyone, but I've made some friends already, which is always a good thing. He suddenly realised what he had just called Spencer and Roger. Blaise already referred to Spencer as 'Spence', but 'Rodge'? Did I just give someone I only met today a nickname? thought Harry incredulously. Well, I definitely didn't expect that. Guess I'll have to come up with a nickname for Blaise now, if he hasn't got one already. He rolled over slightly. Hold on, thought Harry suddenly. If I've just given Roger a nickname and I do the same for Blaise, one of 'em'll probably give me a nickname. He thought about that for a few seconds – the idea seemed to appeal to him. No-one's ever given me a nickname before…

After a while, Harry stopped thinking about nicknames. I wonder if tomorrow'll be as interesting as today? Harry wondered as he finally fell asleep.

-

Author's Note

Well, here it is, the first chapter of The Story of The Guys done. The first few chapters are really just meant to fill in the gaps between the beginning and end of 'Lone Traveller' Chapter 6. I'm hoping to have The Lone Traveller's visit at around chapter 6 or 7, then show the effects of the visit afterwards.

You'll also probably notice I've used stuff from 'Lone Traveller' (The Hogwarts Express & The Sorting), though I have tried to expand those parts.

Anyway, I'll try and get the next chapter of both this and The Lone Traveller done soon. Until then, enjoy…