Disclaimer: Unfortunately my real name is not Joanne Rowling or I'd be charging you for this.
Author's notes: This is an AU in an AU. Basically my representation of how Harry should have been written (given all he went through) and his reactions to meeting his normal counterpart. Dark and Angsty.
I stand cloaked in invisibility, watching Albus Dumbledore explain the presence of another Harry Potter to Sirius, Remus and myself.
Only it's not myself. Wide innocent green eyes take the news with the jubilation of a child finding a long lost twin…only better. His smile is too large and too boyish and beams with everything that was forcibly torn from me long ago. He speaks of pranks and all the fun he's going to have with his other self and how it will be so cool to switch classes and confuse the teachers and see if Snape faints when he sees two Harry Potters.
I have no doubt they'll be able to tell us apart.
We're both seventeen, but my face is gaunter from lean times, lined with stress and silvery scars like wrinkles, and as hard as stone. My mouth is set in a grim line from which equally grim smiles spring forth. The glasses are long gone—war tolerates no weakness—and nothing obscures green eyes hard and haunted with shadows that lurk where bright light dances in his. I've never been so conscious of my age then when I stand before my seventeen year-old counterpart, listening to him babble excitedly with such an open visage.
Damn! Was I ever that young?
Albus tries to explain. Tells him my universe is darker, that he is the Boy-Who-Lived there but that just makes him go off on a new tangent of how cool it must be to be famous and whether I'm more like Neville. From what I've seen of this universe's chosen one, he's matured. An adult now.
I'm a general.
My other self still doesn't get it. He doesn't realize I've had to kill people. Doesn't know what it's like to take a life, or send hundreds into battle. Here Voldemort is a threat, but only in the vague, shadowy sense to the teenage mind and this one couldn't comprehend the reality of fighting and killing a dark lord. Hell, most people didn't realize until they saw it in action. The duel between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald was famous as the most incredible fight.
Mine is infamous as the bloodiest.
It was almost a draw, because when we were done he was lying dead in a pool of his own blood and I was dying in a pool of mine. A dozen healers and half of St. Mungo's resources still took a month to put me back together. My scars look a little better than Frankenstein's.
Finally I get tired of this childish tripe and take off the cloak. All three are shocked speechless. Then again, how the hell do you react to a nightmarish version of your godson, or yourself, staring back at you with the oldest eyes you've ever seen? My counterpart's innocence runs from his eyes and slides down his cheeks in liquid crystals.
"I'm. Not. You."