Wrong 1

Slowly opening my eyes, I could hear voices outside my bedroom door.

"James, he's asleep. Leave him be."

"But", suddenly my father's voice quieted to a whisper. How did I get here? Last I remember I was in the library…

I could hear the voices of my parents talking, but I couldn't quite catch the words. Then my father's voice rose in volume, "My son has to like Quidditch!" My father almost sounded as if he were a child protesting that 'Santa Claus is real!' and I could just imagine the pout that was probably placed upon his face.

I stifled my laughter to hear my mother's reply. "Quiet down, James! Why can't you understand that he has both of our genes?"

"Yeah, Prongs, you should get the idea that Lily's genes took over, especially after we found him sleeping in the library. That kid's pretty heavy for a nine year old," Uncle Remus was here!

I leapt out of bed, throwing the door open. Normally I would've been horrified to see that I had thrown the door right into my father's face, but I was more concerned with hugging my uncle to death. "Uncle Remus!"

Rich laughter flowed into my ears, "Hey Pup, you're awake then?"

"Hey!" I turned, just then noticing my father leaning against a wall with his hand over his face. Uncle Remus' laughed again, seeing my mortified face.

"It's okay, Pup," my uncle said, "I'll protect you," the laughter in the hallway spread as Uncle Remus ran away from my father, still carrying me in his arms.

My mother was not as amused. "Remus, James! Don't give us another reason to take my child to the hospital today!" That's right, I had an appointment today. I never liked those, all the Healers fussing over who got to examine me. Being a famous 'Savior' got annoying at times. Oh, I almost forgot!

I tried to get out of my uncle's arms so I could get back to the library. I needed to get back to that book! Once I broke free I started to run off to the library.

"Whoa there, kiddo," my father said. "We need to take you to your appointment now," why did my father have to want to be on time today of all days? Seeing my pout, he said "I know you don't like them, but we need to make sure everything's okay with your scar. You remember what we told you, right?"

I nodded, looking down at my feet, "An evil dark person wanted to hurt me but only gave me the scar on my face before disappearing, right?" What a load of bull. I may only be nine, but I'd have to be half-mad not to know a fairy tale when I heard one. Evil people didn't just 'disappear' or father wouldn't have a job. What's more, I remember that night. I remember everything, down to the little purple butterfly sticker that was on the window of our nursery room that night. That reminded me, my brother…! The bloody appointment could wait; I needed to get back to the library!

Before I could do anything, my father had scooped me up and whisked me off to the hospital. This was one of the few times I despised my parents. The lying, attention-mongering, prejudiced… I should stop before my thoughts actually turn into words. We were already at the infamous St. Mungo's. With every step my father took I steeled myself for the inevitable encounter ahead of me.

My Uncle Remus opened the door, letting mother in before my father walked through with me in his arms. Three, two, one-

"Oh my GOSH! It's Aster Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!" If that banshee could screech any louder my young ears would burst. As usual my mother muttered about how the staff could never keep quiet about my appointments and how she didn't understand what was so impossible about setting up an at-home visit.

I quickly hid my face, clutching my father with my head in the crook of his neck. It was a worthless effort as people swarmed us anyway. It took a full half hour and a plethora of Healers to wade through the growing crowd and save my family from their grasps. We were led to my usual check-up room, fifth door on the right down the second hallway of the seventh floor…

"Mommy?" We were walking along the second hallway of the seventh floor.

"Yes dear?" I was only six, so my mother towered over me. Even so, she didn't seem intimidating at all, never having to command my attention or obedience. It was that kind, cheerful, and proud smile that drove me to make her happy. It was the loss of that smile that made me fear what was ahead. If only I hadn't…

"Why are we here?" my voice shook with my growing fear. "Is it because I asked about-"

My mother quickly stopped me, "No, it's okay." She never interrupted me, "It's just a little check-up, that's all. The scar the evil man gave you might still hurt you and your father and I want to make sure it won't, okay?"

"Okay…" I could see the nervousness in her eyes, like what I saw in father's eyes whenever he tried to lie to mother about a surprise. My mother was lying to me.

After a few more steps in silence and I couldn't help but break it. "Mommy?"

"Yes dear?"

I wondered if she had intentionally replied with the same phrase. "Do I have a brother?"

Silence again. My mother almost stopped walking but kept moving, trying to act as if she hadn't been shocked. The silence stretched so long, I opened my mouth to say something else when she answered me.

"… No. You're an only child, little one. Do you want a sibling?" I could almost feel her nervousness now, and it just barely tinged her voice.

Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Mommy, I was just wondering…"

Water pooled in my eyes and my voice longed to cry out just remembering that instance. She and my father probably knew I wanted to go back to the library and dragged me here just to torment me. What kind of parents lie about their own children? I know I have a brother and I will find him. I'm so close to finding him…

We reached the room, and shut ourselves away from the celebrity-obsessed masses. Mother had been so upset to hear me say that once, knowing I had gotten the phrase from father. She didn't want her child growing up learning the immature terms and phrases my father tended to sprout on a daily basis. I knew she wasn't truly upset, but it was still quite a sight to see my father cower at the hands of my angered mother.

As usual, I was placed upon a comfy chair while my parents left the room to wait outside. Something about 'patient privacy' preventing even parents to watch over a patient's check-up once they reached a certain age. It was one of those useless rules that existed in the world. Oh well, I was actually glad for it once I found out Healer's were under oath not to intentionally harm their patients unless for healing purposes. It kept my parents from embarrassing me by telling the Healer useless little stories about my life. I really did not think the Healer needed to know if I had peed in my bed the other night.

Which I didn't.

Anyway, the Healer entered the room, the same Healer I've had for the past three years. He looked like what most every kid imagined a Healer to look like. The man wore a white coat and glasses. His name was Mr. Pill, a name I used to laugh at until mother made me take a few. I was never more grateful for potions in my life. Swallowing something whole is an unsettling experience for a child. It is, really.

"Okay, kiddo," Mr. Pill began, drawing me away from my thoughts, "We're going to start some new tests today. It's to test things like your memory just to make sure you're developing like a normal kid, okay?" I nodded silently. Even after three years I was still a little shy around Mr. Pill.

"We'll start with the normal ones first. Reflexes okay, pulse okay, hearing, sight…" Mr. Pill went on, running through his various tests. I didn't really have to do anything; Mr. Pill would just wave his wand around and look at a piece of paper. Sometimes I'd have to hold a fake wand, one that tested whether or not I was still magical and other stuff.

Then, Mr. Pill brought out a few pictures. He showed me one and told me to try and memorize as much as I could about the picture. The next picture looked a lot like the other one with a few differences. I was told to pick out the differences, and I found all of them. It was sort of obvious to me, so I didn't really see why he even asked. I told him that. He just looked at me weird, and brought out a few more pairs. Again I found all of the differences.

I received another weird look. Geez, what was it with people and looking at me weird? Anyway, Mr. Pill brought out another picture for me to look at. Instead of pulling out another picture afterwards, he brought out a piece of paper and told me to try drawing the picture as best as I could. I didn't touch the quill he offered. I knew I would only make a mess. Mother, ever the muggleborn, had given me a pencil, eraser, and even a box of crayons to take wherever I went. Being the Boy-Who-Lived meant I would have to sit somewhere while the adults talked, so I was left to draw on my own all the time.

Soon enough I had finished drawing the picture. I could remember the picture exactly as I had seen it, so it was as simple as tracing and filling in the lines. At nine years old I could trace and color just fine.

Mr. Pill took one look at my drawing before rushing out of the room. Was my picture that bad that he ran away? I thought it was done pretty well. I took the drawing, determined to show my parents the wonders of my artistic ability.

"What do you mean, Mr. Pill?" the worry that filled my mother's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"He has a photographic memory, Ms. Potter. Your son can remember everything he sees in vivid detail, and will have this ability for the rest of his life." Now that was cool. I knew I had a good memory, but I didn't know it was special.

"He remembers everything, Mr. Pill?" my father sounded proud and afraid at the same time. Why? I thought it was something awesome to have…

My mother gasped, "You don't think he remembers–"

"No," Mr. Pill cut in, "he shouldn't remember that night. Don't worry. He was only an infant, right?" I guessed my parents nodded as he continued, "Photographic memories don't tend to go back that far. While he is the Boy-Who-Lived, I doubt he remembers that night."

The conversation continued but I wasn't paying attention anymore. I did remember that night, but it was obvious no one was going to listen to me.

With a bang the door to the nursery was blast open, mother falling unconscious as a block of wood smacked her in the head. She fell to the floor in a bundle of limbs and debris.

I wanted to cry, but stopped as I saw someone enter the room. I couldn't see far enough yet to tell whether the figure was friend or foe. Instinctively I grabbed onto someone next to me. Looking over at the person it was as if I was looking in the mirror. I've seen baby pictures of myself before, and this baby next to me was like my carbon copy. He had the same green eyes, the same black hair, even the same little mole behind his left ear.

A piercing laugh snatched my attention away from my copy. "Ah, the mudblood decided to die before I got here… pity." The cold, cruel voice sent shivers down my spine just remembering it. Equally cruel red eyes turned their attention on us babies. "The little Potter twins, how pleased I am to see you. Wormtail! Which one is the elder twin?"

At those words a little rat scurried into the room and suddenly morphed into an equally scrawny man. The person stuttered almost incoherently but his hand easily pointed towards me.

"They were born attached at the head, my Lord, but the separation left this one more powerful than the other."

"Nonetheless," the dark figure replied, "neither of them will be a threat to me soon enough," a hand lifted a wand into the air, the thin piece of wood pointed straight between my eyes.

I felt tears fall out of my eyes, sobs on the brink of escaping my infant mouth. Looking over at my twin I saw a curious expression on his face.

The other person must have seen the expression as well. He moved to aim at my brother. Laughing he proclaimed, "You shall be first, child, for being fearless in the face of death." A hate-filled look overcame the person's face, "Avada Kedavra!"

The spell shot forward, colliding with my twin's face. Immediately I felt a sharp pain strike into my mind. Screams erupted from both me and my twin. I could feel something between us strain and panic set into me. For an entire moment I could feel my brother disappear, but just as quickly I felt him return as if he never left. The green light of the spell filled the room, and in my mind I wished my toddler-self had kept track of my brother.

Suddenly a wave of something spread through the room, sending the other person to his knees. His screams joined ours until he erupted in a brighter flash of light.

I remember my vision warping as it filled with red. Looking over at my twin I barely had time to register that he now had one red eye before everything went black.

The door opened in front of me, startling me out of my memories. Mr. Pill was smiling down at me and I examined my reflection in his glasses. In the lenses I could see my right green eye and my left golden one, the mark that I was the Boy-Who-Lived. Small scars extended from the eye, making it look like a blazing sun.

Again, Mr. Pill jolted me out of my thoughts. "You can go home, now."

Yes! I can finally go back home! I eagerly ran out of the room, latching onto my mother's arm. She smiled down at me, a sad look in her eyes. In a moment she blinked the sadness away.

After being carried by Uncle Remus through the hordes of fans again I arrived home. I ran to the library, only halfway paying attention to my father and mother arguing over my genetic influences again.

Once I got inside the library I sped towards my table. It was smaller than the adult's table to accommodate for my size. Father was saddened and proud at the same time when I had been going to the library often enough to request my own table. I liked flying, I really did, but finding my brother was more important.

On my table was a book I had gotten from Uncle Remus two years ago. It was a wondrous piece of magic; it would only open for its owner, me. I told Uncle Remus it was for dreams, but that was a lie. Stashed between the pages were letters I had stolen from my mother. She had a habit of keeping a copy of her letters so it wasn't hard to steal the copies and leave the originals.

Using another feature of the magical book I looked for the word 'orphanage'. The book would go through all of the pages, even the ones that weren't technically pages of the book, and find the word for me. Surprisingly mother didn't keep her letters in order, nor did she write the date, so I've had to go through dozens of pages looking for the right one. I knew I was close to finding my brother when she mentioned giving birth to twins in the last few letters I had read.

Everything was black. I remembered falling off my broom… Had I died? Even though I was only six years old I knew what death was. I also knew it was something I didn't want to be right now. I felt fear and panic begin to rise within me.

Suddenly, my eyes opened. The room wasn't mine. It was worn down and dirty. I doubted if house elves lived this poorly.

It was when the body started to move on its own that I realized I was somewhere else. Was I dreaming? The person I inhabited moved across a cold floor. Reaching a mirror I looked into the reflection.

A half-gold half-red gaze stared back at me.

'Wha- what?' the boy exclaimed in his mind. I knew he was thinking it as I saw his mouth had not moved.

'Um… hi…'

The eyes widened further. It was then that I noticed that this boy looked like a copy of me. This was my twin! The brother I remembered in my memories! He didn't have my 'Sun Scars' as fans called them, even with my golden eye. He did, however, have a straight scar slicing down the center of his right red eye. The cut seemed to have slit his pupil, making it look almost feline or snake-like. Some of the red from the iris also seemed to have sucked the red out of the whites of his eye, making the red around the pupil stand out even more. While my Sun Scars where short and many, his scar was long, extending from an inch or two above his eye down to just above his lips.

'What are you doing in my head?' his twin demanded, now glaring at his own reflection.

The angered voice shot down my excitement at having found my brother. 'Oh, um… I…'

'Hurry up!'

'If you wouldn't snap at me maybe I'd have time to reply!' Why was this other me so difficult to deal with?

Surprisingly, the boy smiled. I think father said that expression was something called a 'smirk'. 'That's better. I'd be ashamed to think someone had penetrated my mind with only half a heart.'

'What's pene… pene…'

His face fell. 'I see I was mistaken. I mean 'entered' my mind.'

'Oh! Well, I remembering falling… and then I woke up here…' I hoped this would be enough and that I wouldn't get yelled at again. It wasn't the best feeling in the world to have your long lost twin mad at you.

'Hmm… Who are you?'

'I'm your twin!'

The boy's eyes narrowed angrily, 'While that would answer a few questions about you being in my mind, I find it rather hard to believe. Why would my dear twin brother decide to show up after six long years in my head?'

'I, I didn't mean to…'

'Why in the world would I be in this god forsaken orphanage if I had a family!' my twin exclaimed. While he was obviously trying to hide it, I could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Or eye, as the golden eye was mine… Whatever, this whole event was confusing me.

Suddenly I felt my presence being pulled away. I didn't want to leave my twin in this state of mind. 'I'll prove it to you,' the words escaped me in a determined certainty I was surprised to feel. 'I'll find you, brother, and take you away from this place. I swear it!'

Shaking away the memory, I read the latest letter. Going down the page, I noticed it was a letter to an 'Uncle Sirius'. I remembered him; I remembered him yelling at mother and father about something. Uncle Remus had taken me away before I could make sense of anything that was being said.

Paying more attention to reading I found my mother explaining to Uncle Sirius that someone named Dumbledore, what an odd name, had told mother and father that something was wrong with my brother. That whatever happened that night had changed him and that he couldn't be allowed to stay with me. That he was 'dark'…

Thinking back to when I saw my brother, I just knew he wasn't dark. Mother and father always told me that dark people were evil and that they were the ones who had tried to hurt me. My brother wouldn't hurt me. I knew it. So why did this Dumbledore and my parents think he would hurt me?

My thoughts have wandered again. Continuing my reading, I finally found what I was looking for:

Oh, Sirius, I am so sorry. Dumbledore says it's for the best so James and I have to trust him. He knows better than we do. We couldn't see it in Peter and we only realized too late… It breaks my heart, but we have to do this. Dumbledore was going to choose for us but James and I decided that we would be the ones to do this. Harry can't go back to the magical world. For him as well as for everyone else, I don't want my son growing up and fighting his brother. I can't let it happen.

Harry will be left at an orphanage called Unspoken Dreams in the British Isles.

Immediately I sped over to one of the shelves in the library, yanking down a book and throwing it open. I searched through the pages, 'Unspoken Dreams' repeating through my mind. The book was a list of workplaces, another one of mother's quirks as a muggleborn. She called it the 'Green Pages' for some reason. I found the orphanage and the exact island it was on.

An urgency to be at my brother's side flowed through my veins and I hurried out of the library. The rest of my thoughts faded away to the point that I needed to concentrate to remember how to get to my room. For a second I thought this was a little weird, but it was normal for a twin to want to reunite with their other half, right? Of course I wanted to see my brother and bring him home.

Running over to my bedroom, I noticed my parents were in the kitchen drinking with Uncle Remus. Thank goodness. When it was one of their drinking nights they wouldn't check up on me until the next morning.

Trying not to break anything in my hurry I found my broom. I thanked my father's wishes for me to be a future Quidditch star, as it gifted me with the latest broom on the market every year.

Rushing over to my desk I snatched a piece of parchment, Uncle Remus' latest project. I held the parchment and said "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," and smiled. It was an upgraded Marauder's Map. While my uncle still couldn't figure out how to change the password, he had been able to alter the map. This map was a Directions Map, one for if I ever got lost. All I had to do was tell the map an address or place and it would show me how to get there.

"Unspoken Dreams, Isle of Man, British Isles" I didn't quite understand why I had to say Isle of Man separately from British Isles as they were practically the same thing, but I didn't really care at the moment.

Opening my bedroom window I mounted my broom and took off. The map was positioned between my hands so I could see the arrow pointing in the direction I should go. How large the arrow was corresponded with the distance. I winced when the arrow was pretty big, but kept going.

'It's taken me three years, brother, but I'm on my way. I'll bring you home.'