Summary: Harry thought the prophecy would be the last revelation about his life. But it wasn't. The largest was yet to come. Harry always thought he and Draco Malfoy had nothing in common. But after a hectic summer, they find there's something they do share … their parents.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR

Author's notes: Most of the tree is fitting together now. Just a couple of bits to go after this chapter.


Last chapter Draco looked almost exactly like him, only with brown hair instead of black, and no glasses. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together Madam Pomfrey explained.

Chapter Three: Divided We Fall

Harry's head was beginning to clear. Madam Pomfrey had paused after her first statement, apparently waiting for a reaction. Although his thoughts were less muddled, his emotions were in turmoil.

He'd known for about three years that there was the possibility he was once a twin. But the thought that his sibling was alive and living near him was something that had never crossed his mind. He'd always assumed he or she died. And now the school nurse of all people had announced that Draco – Draco Malfoy – was his brother.

How? How? Why???

Glancing sideways at Malfoy – Draco – Harry saw a similar whirl of thoughts and emotions on his face. Buzzing with questions, the first one Harry blurted out was, "How do you know?"

Madam Pomfrey and Draco both looked taken aback, Draco turning to stare at Harry, but after a moment he turned back to Madam Pomfrey and they both waited.

"Well … it's … a long story," she began finally. "Sixteen years ago, your family fell apart. Your father John – my son – left home and lost contact, before he knew about you two. Your mother had been pressured by her adoptive family to marry a pureblood – when her husband found out she was pregnant it was the only option."

"So … you're our grandmother?" Draco said weakly. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I." Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. "How come he -" Harry jerked his head at Draco "- had glamours on and I don't?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Draco was born first; he was taken in by the Malfoy family." Harry saw Draco swallow. "Harry was taken in by James – my other son. No glamours were needed because he already looked like him."

Harry looked at Madam Pomfrey properly. Now he knew, he could see the resemblance between her and James Potter. His uncle.

"What about my – our – mother?"

"Bella's still trapped in her pureblood marriage," Madam Pomfrey said quietly. "Among other things. She was Lily Evans' half-sister," she added, more to Harry than Draco. "That's where you get your eyes from – your maternal grandmother."

Bella. The name suddenly struck Harry hard.

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" he whispered hoarsely. "Bellatrix Lestrange is my mother?"

Draco's mouth fell open.

"How -?" Madam Pomfrey began, before she cut herself off. "Yes." Seeing Harry's expression, she added quietly, "Albus said he told you she was being controlled?"

Harry nodded numbly.

Draco took over the questions. "What about our father? Did he get back in contact? Is he still alive?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head slowly, tears in her eyes. "No, he didn't get back in contact. As for whether he's still alive or not, all I have to go on is hope." She cleared her throat, blinking. "The same for your mother."

Harry and Draco met each other's eyes properly for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. It felt strange looking into eyes exactly the same as his. Now he thought about it, Harry was sure he'd seen them on someone else he knew …

"You said something about our m – Bellatrix's adoptive family," he said quietly. "You mean the Blacks?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Bella was also split up from her siblings at a young age – for different reasons. It would be better if you asked your other grandmother about that."

"Other grandmother?" Draco repeated.


Minerva was working late. This was unusual for her. Albus was already asleep – normally he was the one who stayed at his desk till the early hours of the morning and then over-slept till noon the next day. Severus had come up with the perfect way to get Draco and Harry to get along, but was reluctant to go along with it.

"I refuse to let my quarters be turned into a war zone," he said flatly. "Find another teacher to host them."

She shook her head fondly and looked up at the photo on her desk. It was of a young girl, clutching a small boy in her arms, both dark-haired and dark-eyed with mischievous grins on their faces. Next to them, propped up in a baby chair, was a infant around six months with a tuft of auburn hair and Minerva's own bright green eyes.

It was as she was lost in the picture, thinking of times long gone, there was a tap on the office door and Poppy pushed it open. Before Minerva could ask her what she wanted this late, she spotted two sets of identical green eyes staring at her, exactly like the ones she had been watching in the picture just now.

"Oh," she said softly. There was a pause as the room stood still. Before she could stop herself she had left her desk and drew close with her arms open. To her surprise, Draco accepted the embrace and Harry pulled away.


The black-haired twin shook his head, his face beginning to reflect anger. "No. I've heard enough tonight." Before she or Poppy could say anything, he turned and added, "If you don't mind, Madam Pomfrey, I'm discharging myself."

With that, he left the office at a run, slamming the door behind him.


When Ron first saw Harry lying in his bed, he thought he was imagining things. Wasn't his best friend supposed to be in the Hospital Wing? Then it struck him that Harry had probably left early, due to his fed-up-ness (was that even a word?) with being there. Ron sighed. Harry was so bloody stubborn.

A moment later he turned around and looked at him again. Harry was still asleep, hunched up under the bedclothes as usual, one hand clutching the birth charm Ron remembered him showing them months ago and his face looked … odd. As if he'd been crying. But Harry never cried.

Ron hesitated. It was still early on a Saturday, and none of the other boys in the dormitory had woken yet. If he tried to ask Harry if there was something wrong, it would either cause a scene or Harry would deny everything and leave in a hurry. Or both. Probably that one.

It would be better to wait. And ask subtly. Ron pulled on some clothes and left the dormitory quietly, intent on getting a couple of laps on the Quidditch field in before breakfast started. He got the shock of his life when he fell over the last student he expected to see near Gryffindor Tower, outside the portrait hole.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ron demanded. Malfoy glared at him, massaging his foot.

"I need to talk to – to Potter. Is he up yet?"

Ron stared. "Why?"

"None of your business, Weasley," Malfoy snapped. "Is he up yet or not?"

"No, he's still asleep." Ron paused. Something had changed in the Slytherin. He couldn't put his finger on it. "Do you want me to give him a message?" he asked sarcastically.

"No need. I'll wait. You can go off and do … whatever it is you do."

There didn't seem to be a reply to that without looking childishly petty, so Ron stalked off, broomstick in hand. As he rounded the corner, he expected to hear some snarky comment about his broom from Malfoy, but none came. Glancing back, he saw the Slytherin had gone back to staring blankly at the Fat Lady's portrait. The subject herself was ignoring him completely. Although there was no expression written on his face, it suddenly dawned on Ron that Malfoy had seemed more human in that short conversation than in all the years he'd known him.

Ten minutes later, he was on the Quidditch pitch, all concern about Harry and curiosity about Malfoy gone.


Harry didn't want breakfast. He didn't want to get up at all, and he certainly didn't want to run into certain people – to be more precise, a list that so far contained his arch-enemy, his Head of House, and the school matron. Oh, and Dumbledore, he supposed – chances were he'd known all along. Part of Harry seemed to be saying that if he acted like nothing had happened, then things could go back to the way they were: a world where Draco – Malfoy, Malfoy! – was nothing but the school bully, and the Hogwarts staff were simply that – school staff, with nothing in common with him except an ability to use a wand. That scenario was what he was used to and it was too confusing any other way.

The problem was, the other part wanted it to be true. Because if it was, he could well be this close to getting what he wanted more than anything else in the world.

Trying to ignore his mixed emotions building up inside him, Harry pulled on the first clothes he found and left the dormitory, intent on visiting the kitchens. Chances were, Dobby would be only too glad to get him breakfast (although in truth he wasn't that hungry) and wouldn't turn out to be some long-lost cousin or something. A yelp of pain as he fell over something jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, it's you," Harry said dully, once he'd got back on his feet.

"You could sound a little happier to see me," Draco muttered.

Someone – presumably one of their grandmothers (that was going to take a bit of getting used to) – had obviously replaced his glamours, because the boy standing before Harry now looked no different than the boy who had attempted to make his life miserable from the day he'd refused his hand on the train. No, that wasn't true. Something had changed. Perhaps the glamours were the same as they had been, but they couldn't mask a change in his character. A subtle change, perhaps, but one Harry noticed.

"What did you expect? Me to just forget the fact that we've been warring for over five years and let a similarity in blood cancel out everything we ever said or did to each other? Forget it."

Draco actually flinched. "No, but I did think you would cut me a bit of slack considering what we just found out. And considering we're in the same boat."

"No we're not." Harry tried to leave but Draco stepped in front of him. "Move, I'm trying to go to breakfast."

"No, we need to talk. What do you mean, we're not in the same boat? I had no idea about any of this, if that's what you're implying. I'm just as stunned as you are."

"I wasn't implying that. I was saying that our situations are completely different. Okay, so we've found out the same thing. Big deal. The fact that you don't have a clue what I'm on about proves what I'm saying. We both come from completely different backgrounds and should be expected to react in different ways. So you should really be the one cutting me slack."

"I know we're different!" Draco half-shouted. "I just don't understand why you're acting like this. I would have thought you'd be thrilled. You're the one who grew up without parents and spent every holiday here because you hated your Muggle relatives."

Slightly surprised that Draco had come to that conclusion, Harry just felt more frustrated than ever. Because that was true. But there was also something Draco hadn't realised.

"Don't you get it? They lied to us. We've been going to this school for five years. What, you think it just slipped their minds to tell us about this?"

Draco was silent for a moment. "Poppy -"

"Oh, so it's Poppy now is it? What's next, Grandma Pomfrey?"

Draco ignored the jab. "Poppy and Minerva – all right, Professor McGonagall if it makes you feel better – explained it. What you heard was only a tiny bit. I still don't know all of it, 'cause it's connected to our grandfather on – Professor McGonagall's – side, and she said it would be better if she explained that bit to both of us at the same time."

Harry snorted. "Well, she doesn't need to. I'm not blind. It's obvious. Think about it. Voldemort's worst enemy, so we'd be in danger cos of that. He's even got red hair, like my m – like Lily did. Well, he used to anyway. And anyone can see how close he and Professor McGonagall are."

Draco blinked. "You think – Dumbledore …?"

"It fits, doesn't it?."

"Fine, if you say so. You know them better than I do." There was something in his voice that sounded bitter, and unbalanced Harry for a moment.

"That's another thing, though. You know why I was sent to the Dursleys'?" Silence from Draco. "Because my m – Lily – died to save me, and because of that I had protection from her blood relations. I hated it there but I've had to stick it out because Dumbledore said there was nowhere – no-one – else. But that's not true, is it?"

"I think you're over-reacting," Draco said quietly.

"You try living with the Dursleys, then you'll see I'm not."

"I'm not talking about that. Perhaps if you just gave them all a chance to explain -"

"Explain what? Why almost every year since I got my Hogwarts letter I've found out something else about myself I had no idea about and people around me knew and didn't tell me?"

"Now you're being selfish."

"Just how am I being selfish?"

"You're just thinking about you!" Draco exploded. "What about me? I've been spoon-fed crap all my life and now I've got the chance to figure out what's real, work out who I really am. Figure out who my family is."

"By all means go on your journey of self-discovery. I'm not stopping you."

"You are by not being part of it! Look, correct me if I'm wrong, but my whole life I've known something was missing, that I was missing something. Haven't you always felt the same?"

Harry remained silent. He had, but he wasn't about to admit it. Draco sighed. "Fine, be like that. Have a nice life, on your own. Don't worry about me, your bloody twin."

The words struck Harry like two pebbles hurled at his chest, but he couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to think, to clear his head, to sort out his emotions. For a minute he thought Draco was going to let him walk away, but then his brother called after him.

"Look, do you want to hear what they told me last night or not?"

Harry stopped. He couldn't help it, he was curious. "Fine, give me the worst."

Draco sighed. "Not here. We've been making enough of a scene. Thank Merlin everyone's still in bed. I for one am not ready for the whole school to know about this."

Finally, something they agreed on.


Actually, not everyone was still in bed. Besides Ron, who was still on the Quidditch pitch, Crabbe and Goyle had already eaten breakfast and were wandering around where they knew Gryffindor Tower was, intent on interrogating one of Potter's friends to find out when he and Malfoy would be released. Just as they were on the verge of giving up, Goyle heard voices and grabbed Crabbe's arm. Peering round a corner, they saw Malfoy staring with a bewildered look on his face after Potter, who was stalking away from him in their direction, looking like he was in a bad mood.

"Look, do you want to hear what they told me last night or not?" Malfoy called.

Potter stopped walking towards them. There was a pause. "Fine, give me the worst."

They heard Malfoy sigh. "Not here. We've been making enough of a scene. Thank Merlin everyone's still in bed. I for one am not ready for the whole school to know about this."

Know about what? Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances. Malfoy overtook Potter and started leading the way. Crabbe and Goyle scrambled backwards, falling through a secret entrance behind a tapestry. They waited quietly in the dark – Goyle trembled as what felt like a spider scuttled over his foot – until Potter and Malfoy's footsteps had passed.

"Where do you think they're going?" Crabbe whispered.

They followed them.

Potter and Malfoy went to the library. Peering through a crack in the door, the Slytherins spotted them sitting on the same table in a corner. Malfoy was anxiously looking over his shoulder, presumably to check they weren't being watched.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Goyle whispered.

"Don't be stupid," Crabbe whispered back. "They're too far away."

Malfoy started drawing something out on a scrap of parchment. Potter leaned over his shoulder, frowning.

"What are you two doing?"

The boys jumped and whirled round, coming nose-to-nose with a scowling Snape.


Thanks to Chris Ann, RapidReader916 and rosiegirl for reviewing. Has everyone else lost interest in this one? Please …?