Forgotten Twin

[Forty-five minutes earlier]

"Potter." The words were ground out through clenched teeth.

"Greetings, Heir Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy" Harry said, lightly stepping onto Madam Malkin's measuring stool. His Dumbledore orchestrated introduction to the wizarding world was turning out a lot better than first time around.

Draco Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "What's with the formal greeting? Finally decided to stop acting like blood traitor scum?"

Harry grinned. "The formal greeting is because we've never met before."

"Wha?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. Harry James Potter, estranged member of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Potter. John is my detested brother."

The young sales-witch measuring him gasped. Although whether due to realising this wasn't John Potter or to his declaration of sibling loathing, he couldn't be sure.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "The Boy-Who-Lived has a brother?"

"That is a one-hundred percent true statement." The cords measuring him were suddenly pulled a lot tighter. Yep, definitely the declaration of loathing.

"You hate him?"

"I believe the ways and means employed by him and my family to be short-sighted and contemptible."

"You…you're Dark?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that… although I've got nothing against dealing with people who needlessly antagonise me." He glared at the sales-witch who returned his look with one of pure contempt."

"So…" Malfoy regarded him as one might a puzzling quidditch play. "What house do you think you'll be in?"

"Slytherin. No question."

Malfoy nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll probably go there too. Although my Father did say he wouldn't be furious if I went to Ravenclaw."

Harry smirked. Malfoy had been the bane of his existence during his brief and lonely two years at Hogwarts. Looking back it wasn't hard to see why. He'd turned up in the house of the aristocrats wearing rags and standard Hogwarts modern open-robes. Scrawny and dirty. No hygiene products, no grooming knowledge. Was it any wonder he'd been treated like a walking dragon-pox victim?

"Harry," Malfoy said, his voice relaxing into a bored drawl, "there's a man outside trying to get your attention."

Harry glanced around and spied the half-giant making impatient jerking motions while holding a single massive multi-layered ice-cream. The man took a long lick of it.

"Oh, don't worry. It's just my parole officer."

Malfoy frowned.

Harry turned to the window. "Five more minutes!" He turned back. "Merlin. Some people, eh?"

Malfoy shrugged.

He grinned at the boy. "So, do you have your real robes ready yet, or are you getting them later?"

The Malfoy scion eyed him; then smirked. "Later. Acromantula silk — closed of course. You?"

"Closed and duelling. Acromantula silk and dragon hide… which I'm certainly not getting here," he added to the reddening, commission-based sales-witch.

Malfoy raised a single eyebrow. "You're bringing duelling robes?"

"Yeah. Not planning on wearing them normally though. Not unless it's needed. My parents"—he lowered his voice so only he and Malfoy could hear—"would pitch a fit if they found out."

Malfoy nodded again, smirked his trademark I'm-better-than-you smirk, and reached out a hand. "By the way, I don't think I properly introduced myself. Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble House of Malfoy."

Harry smiled and took the boy's hand. Yep. Definitely better than last time.

...

Harry was frog-marched into a trunk shop, and walked out a few minutes later with a trunk so cheap it probably wouldn't survive a kick to the side.

A visit to an apothecary yielded a half-broken set of scales and potion ingredients from the half-price, soon-to-expire shelf.

A second-hand bookshop produced textbooks with their covers spell'o'taped together, and their pages torn out.

All the time, Hagrid glowered at him, and continually made comments about how thankful he should be his parents were spending their money on him. It was scary just how much the huge man sounded like Uncle Vernon.

And last time around, he had been scared. This time around, he was just getting pissed off. He also vowed to sneak Ginny out of The Burrow next year, and take her shopping before Hogwarts started. No way she was entering Slytherin like he had last time.

Hagrid left him and the tinkle of a shop bell snapped him out of his thoughts. He was suddenly face to face with an uncomfortably familiar face.

"Hello, Mister Potter," said the wizened face of Mister Ollivander from only a few feet away. "But. Also not Mister Potter…"

Harry suppressed a shiver. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Really?" Ollivander raised his eyebrows. "I've never heard that the Boy-Who-Lived had a brother… and yet… and yet… you somehow feel familiar."

Harry's thoughts flew back to a dusk-light chase away from an ancient yew tree. He met the old man's gaze with his firm one. "I've been exiled from the wizarding world for the last ten years."

"Most extraordinary. And your parents are not here on the most important occasion of a young wizard's life?"

Harry's back straightened. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. "Quite. But I'm not here to discuss them."

"Indeed, indeed. Let's find your match then, shall we. Mmmmm, how about this one?"

Close to one hundred wands later, Hagrid was tapping on the window, clearly unhappy at being made to wait.

Finally, the holly and phoenix feather wand was trundled out and gave its debut performance of sparks.

Ollivander looked puzzled. "Most curious."

Harry mentally rolled his eyes and decided he'd let the old man go for it. "What's curious?"

"Oh, that this wand should be meant for you. I was expecting your brother to get it, if anyone. That it should go to you is most, most curious."

"Yes," he drawled, sarcasm dripping like a leaky tap, "most curious."

Ollivander frowned, and he beat a hasty exit. He really shouldn't give people that attitude, but he was damn sure Ollivander had realised what his wand match meant last time around, and also hadn't told him then.

His thoughts strayed back to Privet Drive. He grinned. Then, he felt a series of vibrations on his right pinky. The grin vanished. Oh, Damn.

"C'mon you," Hagrid said, pulling him along as though he were a dog on a leash.

Harry looked around. There was no one, thank Merlin. Voldemort may have been able to control animals before the age of eleven without a wand, but Hagrid wasn't an animal. Hell, giant blood even gave him magic resistance. He whipped his true wand from its holster and forcefully whispered, "Confundo." He whipped the wand away again.

The half-giant looked back at him. The look was cautious, calculating. "Actually, yeh can make your own way home, can't yeh?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'm gettin' a pint." He continued to stroll to the leaky cauldron.

Harry's eyes hardened. His muscles tensed. Something had happened to Ginny. He ducked into a side alley, ran behind a discarded crate, and apparated.

....

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