Archive of Our Own

This was it.

The final battle.

The final faceoff of the final battle.

The final moment of the final faceoff of the final battle.

The fi--

Stop, it’s not over yet.

Harry had just whipped off his Invisibility cloak and yelled at Voldemort. He was brimming with confidence after hearing Neville’s speech and had adrenaline coursing through his veins.

This was it, he could do it. Final moment of the final face-off of the final battle!

Taking a step back, Harry looked at the Hawthorn wand in his hand, feeling his broken Holly wand shift in his pocket next to the Resurrection Stone which he just couldn’t seem to get rid of, and his mokeskin pouch, and drew his arm back to throw one last Expelliarmus at Voldemort.

This one worked. Of course, that was after their wands joined back together in a crazy stream.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur.

Harry felt his foot slip on the Cloak. He watched the magic hit Voldemort in the chest, sending the Elder Wand flying. Voldemort fucking exploded like a party cracker. The wand smacked Harry right in the face, cracking his glasses. The Voldie-splosion reached him, the magic shooting out of the snake-man in a giant wave of power. A huge pain blossomed from where the Voldie-splosion hit him--which kind of felt like everywhere, though some places hurt worse than others.

And then Harry was gone.

… … …

Blaine Anderson was angry.

So, so, so very angry.

He was standing in his room, in front of his full-length mirror, staring at himself and trying not to punch the mirror. He’d just got back from the dance, that terrible dance, where he and his friend--JUST A FRIEND not even his fucking BOYFRIEND--had been having a great time before the stupid homophobic neanderthals of his school jumped them.

He hadn’t even bothered to change after the dance. He took out his contact since he’d lost the other during the beating, not to mention it needed to come out before the eye swelled shut even more. It was pretty late at night, though still Saturday, May 2nd. He gently touched the already forming black eye… Ugh, this sucked.

Just as Blaine leaned in close to the mirror to get a better look at his ridiculously split lip that would bleed sluggishly every time he spoke, the entire front of his mirror shimmered like a mirage.

“What the…?” He was already pretty close to the mirror and he wanted to lean forward more to get a better look, but instinct suggested he take a step back, so he did.

Good thing too because his fucking REFLECTION fell out of the mirror and onto the floor in front of him.

His reflection didn’t look exactly like him only because it wasn’t wearing the same clothes, but the hair and glasses were the same. Same-ish. Blaine’s hair was still partially styled, but this guy’s--no. NO this was his reflection, wasn’t it!? ANYWAY, IT WAS MESSY LIKE BLAINE’S USUALLY WAS.

Blaine didn’t even realize that as his thoughts started to scream at him, out of his own mouth came a loud, “MOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!” ending on a scared shriek. He took several stumbling steps back away from his closet door, vaguely noticing he no longer had a reflection--SINCE IT WAS LAYING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR, BLEEDING--and hit his wall.

The door to his room slammed open to reveal both his mom and dad, the former holding a fucking bat as if it would help with the broken looking body on the ground. Blaine stared at them, face a mess from his own beating, and then just pointed to the thing on the floor.

His dad was torn for a moment between Blaine’s own appearance and whoever was on the floor, but his mom had absolutely no compunctions about shoving her bat at her husband and rushing to the kid on the ground as his state was worse than Blaine’s.

“Oh dear, what happened?” Pam Anderson gently touched the shoulder of the boy on the floor, the teen making a small noise of pain.

“Uh,” Blaine started elegantly when his dad cut in.

“What happened to you?” Charles stepped forward, gently taking ahold of Blaine’s face. Blaine pushed away his hands, looking down.

“It’s not important. I’m fine,” as if bushing off that hands would brush off the topic, “That guy just fell out of my mirror!”

“What?” Both parents replied, Charles finally looking at the mirror--which had gotten slightly warped.

Blaine nodded, “I was just--...” he stopped to sigh, “I was looking at my face… and then the mirror began to glow or something and then he fell out of it.”

Pam nodded and then looked up at Charles. They had a silent parental conversation and Charles left, muttering about how he’d “just go get dressed.”

“Wait, what? Where’s dad going?”

“He’s going to get dressed so we can take both of you to the hospital,” Pam replied, ignoring her son’s complaints. “Come on, dear,” she then said to the boy on the floor, tucking away some of that brilliant auburn hair of hers behind an ear, gently pushing the reflection onto his back.

Blaine and Pam both gasped.

Pam looked between the boy, who could be Blaine’s twin and her own son. She brushed some of the hair from the boy’s forehead, checking out all of the injuries on his face. They were like a mirror to Blaine’s… except for a fading lightning bolt on his forehead.

… … …

Harry hurt everywhere. Every single part of his body hurt, even his teeth. Especially his teeth. And his nose. Ugh, his NAILS hurt. Speaking of fingers, Harry felt his own twitch a bit and squinted his face against the light he could see on the other side of his fucking eyelids.

He groaned, trying to bring an arm up to cover his face but it hurt too much. He could, however, turn his head into the pillow behind his head, which helped to diminish the light to some degree.

“Hey there, are you awake now?” A feminine voice, totally unfamiliar, but almost reminiscent, came from Harry’s right. He squinted open an eye and saw red-hair and bright eyes. “Mum?” Harry muttered. Maybe he was dead and in heaven? ‘I thought pain was supposed to stop when you died, though…’

“Oh dear,” the woman said and Harry blinked a bit more, hoping to clear his vision. But since he had no glasses, he couldn’t see at all. “No, no dear, I’m not… No.” Harry felt something cool pressed to his forehead and the side of his face a few times.

“Do you want your glasses? They’re… a little broken... But--oh, wait, try these...” Harry heard some shuffling and then some glasses, not his own--he could tell the difference--pressed onto his face. Surprisingly, they were even clearer than his own and he blinked wide.

The woman in front of him could be Lily Potter’s fucking twin.

“Mum?” Harry said again, “Am I dead?”

“I’m not your mom, dear,” she smiled benignly at him, dabbing a towel to his face once more. “At least, I really don’t think I am.”

Harry scrunched his face in confusion. “I’m confused.”

“We are too,” the woman said. “My name is Pam. Pamela Anderson.”

“Harry,” he replied without thought, “Nice to meet you.”

The woman, Pam, laughed. “Nice to meet you too, Harry. Is your mom’s name the same as mine?”

Harry shook his head a bit, trying to move to sit up but failing. Pam reached out to help him and settling him back onto the bed. “No,” Harry finally grunted out, “Her name was Lily.”

“Was?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh dear,” Pam brushed a consoling hand over Harry’s face and he felt tears prick at his eyes. That single gesture was something he’d always wanted. “Do… Do you know where you are, Harry?”

Taking a deep breath, Harry shook his head slightly, eyes closed. That hand didn’t leave, gently brushing through Harry’s undoubtedly dirty hair.

“You’re in Ohio. In the United States. My son, Blaine, said that you …” Pam’s voice took on a disbelieving tone as she relayed the next sentence, “He said that you fell out of his mirror? Can you… think of any reason why that may have happened?”

Harry snorted and opened his eyes back up to look up at Pam. “Magic?” he offered with a crooked grin. He shut his eyes and dropped his head back onto the pillow fully then. Pam sighed, reaching forward to pull off Blaine’s old glasses.

“Magic, you say?” Was the last thing Harry heard before he fell back asleep.

… … …

Charles returned with Blaine from the hospital about an hour after that conversation with Harry. Pam was still sitting next to Harry, nursing a mug of coffee and reading from her Kindle that was resting in her lap. The noise caused her to look up and put a finger to her mouth. Both items were set on the nightstand of the guest room they’d sequestered Harry into and she went to the door.

“What’s wrong with Blaine?” She asked quietly, keeping the door opened just enough to keep an eye on Harry.

“Lots of bruising… Some cuts. The worst is a cracked rib. Blaine admitted that it was probably from being kicked. Plus the beautiful shiner on his face. I sent him to bed... He said that when he and his… date… left the dance,” Charles tone of voice had Pam giving him A Look and he replied with his own that said ‘I’m trying!’

“Anyway. He said they were jumped from behind in the parking lot, so he doesn’t know who did it.” A simple fact which really irritated Charles who wanted nothing but to prosecute the bastard who dared lay a hand on his son. “I’m contacting the school to see if there were any cameras in that area of the parking lot.”

“You’re not going to handle this case yourself, are you, dear?”

Charles shook his head, “No, I’ll ask one of my fellows at the firm. If anything, we can prosecute the school.”

“To what end?” Pam asked, leaning against the wall next to the guest room door. “He can’t go back to that school…”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew. “I can talk to Kenneth… See if I can’t get Blaine into the same school as his boy.”

Pam looked puzzled before clarity showed. “Oh… Dalton?” Charles nodded in response. “But it’s all the way in Westerville, Charles…” The man shrugged. “I won’t get to see my little boy during the week…”

“He’s 15, Pam. I can just…” He shrugged again, “I can head to the main office every Friday and bring him back for the weekend, then drive him back Monday morning and go to the office again. Then we can see him every weekend.”

Pam smiled at her husband and then her look fell. “And how are you feeling about…”

“About what?”

“You do know this was a hate crime, Charles. Our little boy is gay and you need to accept that.”

Charles tensed then let out a breath. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about that right now... Did that boy wake up at all?” He gestured into the guest room, taking a peek through the open door.

“He woke up about an hour ago. His name is Harry and he thought I looked like his mom. I think he may be from England. He said ‘mum’.”

That was a surprise. “How did he get all the way here?”

Pam shrugged helplessly. “All he said was magic before he fell back asleep.” She shook her head and then put a hand on Charles’ chest. “We should have taken him to the hospital too.”

“How were we going to explain it? You know I went to school with several of the doctors there.”

“I know, but we could have explained it away.”

“He fell out of a mirror, according to Blaine. How do we explain that?”

“We lie,” Pam emphasized, narrowing her eyes. “If he really did fall out of the mirror, then maybe he’s some kind of weird reflection of Blaine’s. So if Blaine has a cracked rib, I would bet you that Harry does as well.”

Charles sighed again, scratching at his head. “If… And this is a big if, Pam, IF! If the boy is still hurting in the morning, then we’ll think about taking him to the hospital.”

Pam kept up her glare before shaking her head. “Fine. I’m going to sit with him some more. Check on Blaine before you go back to sleep.”

“I’m not going to,” Charles said and Pam gaped. “Back to sleep. I’ll check on Blaine, Pam.” He gave her a look and she looked sheepish, murmuring her apologies. “I’ll see you later dear,” he added, giving her cheek a kiss. She returned it and the two went off to their respective destinations.

… … …

Blaine woke up several hours later. He rolled onto his side, winced, then back onto his back. Deciding to just blindly reach for his glasses, he found them and turned his head to check the time. 10 am. He groaned loudly and reached, once more without looking, for his Blackberry.

When he brought it into his line of sight, he found that the damn thing was dead. “Great,” he muttered, forcing himself to sit up and plug in the phone. He pressed a hand to his side and winced.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Blaine whipped his head to look at his doorway and smiled gently at his mom. “Hurting?” She asked and he nodded. “Water and medicine are on the other side of your bed. Want me to get it for you?” He nodded again and she entered his room.

“Thanks, mom,” Blaine muttered as he took the bottle of water and the two pills she handed him.

Pam watched and nodded once he’d drank half the bottle. “I’ve got breakfast staying warm downstairs if you want some.”

There was an answering grumble from Blaine’s stomach.

“It’d be a good idea to eat something with that medicine,” his mom added when he didn’t move.

Blaine looked up and tilted his head, causing that messy, previously styled hair to flop over. “What happened to my reflection?”

Pam turned to look at Blaine’s mirror as he tried to lever himself to his feet. Ugh, it hurt like that time he fell off his horse when he was 12.

“He’s still asleep. His name is Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Harry.”

“No last name?”

“He didn’t offer.” Pam turned back to her son and took his arm to help bring him downstairs. “I gave him your old glasses. They looked like they worked perfectly.”

Blaine just grunted in response, glancing into the guest room on their way past. Harry, his reflection, seemed to still be asleep. “That’s weird,” he offered in response to his mom.

“Very weird. Same black eye, same split lip, he probably has the same cracked rib.” So his mom believed Blaine about Harry coming out of the mirror. That’s… cool. Blaine felt less crazy. And it was a great distraction for what had happened yesterday.

At the bottom of the stairs, Pam released Blaine. “Make your way into the kitchen. Your father is in our office. I’ll go try to wake up Harry.”

“Okay. Thanks, mom,” Blaine repeated himself, giving his mom a smile. She returned it, pecked his cheek and headed upstairs.

Blaine shook his head and went to go get some food. That medicine was pretty fast-acting and he felt dizzy.

… … …

Once the voices passed the door to Harry’s room, he snapped open his eyes and grabbed the glasses from the table. It was still surprising how much better they were than his own, which he could see sitting on the table too, glass broken but still in the frames.

Panic overtook Harry for a second as he patted his pockets and he spun on the bed to look at the other nightstand in the room and then to the desk that was there as well--damn this was a nice house, shit--and he shot to his feet, adrenaline from his panic dulling the pain his chest and side.

On the desk, he found his things. Two whole wands, one broken wand, the Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone, and his pouch.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Harry muttered, stuffing the cloak and stone into his pouch with his broken wand. Then he put the pouch around his neck and tucked it under his ratty shirt. After a second to think, Harry shoved the Elder Wand in the mokeskin pouch too. He didn’t feel comfortable using it.

Thanks to Hermione’s suggestions and research, they’d worked a few more spells onto the pouch, making it even larger inside than before. He didn’t have much in there, but an array of first aid potions was a must with the life they had been living previously.

Harry was elbow deep in the tiny pouch when the woman from before came to the door. His eyes went super wide and hers matched a second later.

“Uh,” Harry began. “Hullo.” And he yanked his hand out of the pouch, retrieving the small box that stored his potions.

Pam shook her head, blinking hard. Just her imagination, right? Right. “Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?”

A crooked smile went across Harry’s face before he winced, putting a hand to his side. “I’m fine. I’ve got…” He held up the box. “I’ve got some medicine.”

“Are you sure? Blaine has a cracked rib and the doctor gave him something very strong. I’m sure he could spare a pill or two for you.”

“No no,” Harry eased himself gingerly into the desk chair. “I’ll just take something and then get out of your hair. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome, ma’am.” In the light of day, it was much easier to see that this WASN’T his mum, the hair was much too brown. And her eyes were hazel, not bright green like his own. Still… the face…

“Are you sure?” Pam took a step forward. “It’s alright if you stick around. I’ve got breakfast downstairs?” Just like with Blaine, Harry’s stomach grumbled, but he didn’t move. “Come on, you can eat with Blaine and we can figure out where your family is.” She stepped right up next to him and offered her arm, just like she had with her son.

Harry looked at her and her arm and then at his box of potions. He nodded slowly and stood up, taking both the box and the wand in hand as he eased himself to his feet and took her arm.

“There’s a dear,” Pam pat his arm. “Do you know your family’s phone number? We could give them a call.”

“Erm,” Harry walked beside her, slowly as an ache settled into his chest. “I …” lie, lie, lie. “I don’t know their number, ma’am.”

“Do you have it in your cell phone?”

Harry mouthed the word and tried to wrack his brain, coming up with some vague item that Vernon may have had before that disastrous Flight of the Harrys to the Burrow.

His confusion was clear and Pam was confused too. Sure, Harry looked scruffy but by his age, most parents got their kids at least a flip phone for emergencies. “You… don’t have one?”

“No, ma’am,” Harry shook his head slowly, the fact that he was in a muggle household finally really hitting him. Shit. Well, they’d apparently seen him falling out of a mirror, of all things, and she’d caught him elbow-deep in his pouch, so it’s not like he can break the Statute any worse at this point. Maybe they were squibs and that made it all okay?

Rationalizing was easy when you were in pain, Harry found. Probably a good thing he hadn’t said his last name. Harry wasn’t sure how famous he was in the American Wizarding World… Hermione would know. Hermione knew everything.

Harry was wincing with every breath as he eased his way down the stairs. He really needed to take some of those potions. Potions were just like liquid medicine, right? That would work fine? A good lie? Herbs. Holistic medicine. Fuck.

Any thought of medicine though went flying out of his brain however when he saw his fucking doppelganger sitting at the table eating pancakes.

Harry pushed away from Pam and pointed his wand at Blaine. “What the hell is going on here? Why am I sitting over there? Did you use polyjuice while I was out? Why?”

Blaine went wide-eyed, looking his reflection up and down. “What’s Polly Juice?”

Pam was trying to defuse the situation, “Harry, calm down, put the… stick down.”

“Stick!?” Okay, maybe these people weren’t squibs with access to potions. But still. “NO, I don’t think I will!” Harry pointed the wand at her and the end actually sparked in his panic. Harry winced once more, his panting breaths not helping whatever was wrong with his chest.

“How is it sparking like that? Is it a firework?” Blaine asked, stuffing some more pancakes in his mouth, unruffled and unaware of the tension. Well, kind of unaware. Not totally. He wasn’t stupid, but still. It was a stick. And pancakes.

“It’s!” Harry gasped in a breath, wanting to put his other hand on his head, but he was still holding a box of potions and just smacked it to his forehead. “I can’t breathe.”

Pam rushed over and took his by the elbow and lead him to the breakfast bar that Blaine was sitting at. “Slow, deep breaths Harry, but be careful. You probably have a cracked rib.” Hadn’t she said that earlier? Harry vaguely remembered that, but his head hurt even more now and he couldn’t think. He decided to follow her directions, matching his breathing to hers.

“You okay?” Blaine looked around his mom, looking Harry up and down again.

Harry finally decided that the Statute could go hang itself. He didn’t give a single shit anymore if these people were Muggles or not. He needed to fix his damn rib. He pointed his wand at himself and muttered the same spell he had heard Snape saying over Draco after the bathroom incident. He and Hermione made a point to memorize it during the camping trip from hell and had used it more often than they’d have liked to need to.

The light left the wand and a small glow entered his chest as he repeated the singsong incantation. Once he felt that pressure leave, a sadly familiar feeling--it was a cracked rib. Between Quidditch and being Undesirable Number 1, Harry did know that pain intimately, and once it was eased he put down his wand and snatched up the box he’d smacked into his own head.

He opened it, looking at the potions, and plucked out three he knew he could mix with little to no adverse side effects: general healing, pain reducer, and blood replenisher, just in case.

His doppelganger finally stopped eating to stare and gape.

Pam, however, seemed to take it in stride and ran a finger over his swollen eye that had already significantly reduced in puffiness, though the bruising hadn’t faded. Too bad he was all out of Bruise Balm.

Blaine’s stunned paralysis only lasted about twenty seconds total before the siren song of his food regained his attention. Apparently magic was nothing compared to his mother’s cooking.

With all three potions downed, Harry tucked the empty vials back into his potions box--never know when empties may be needed-- and shoved it into the mokeskin pouch around his neck. Then he made full eye contact with the double behind the Mom-twin. “Hullo.”

“Ah, hi,” he muttered between bites.

“Blaine right?”

“Yeah…”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Harry.”

Blaine looked between his mom and Harry. “Are we ignoring what he just did?”

“Eat your breakfast, Blaine.”

“Yes, mom.”

Harry quirked a smile until she added, “You too, Harry.” And she walked to the other side of the breakfast bar and set down a plate in front of him that she pulled out of a microwave. Harry pouted then and Blaine laughed. “And when you’re done, could you do the same thing for Blaine’s rib?”

Shifting his wand to the side, Harry looked up to Pam and then back down to the plate of pancakes. “Same thing?”

“That…” She gestured to Harry’s chest and wand. “Magic?”

“... Uh. Yeah. magic.”

“Yes, could you do that magic for Blaine too? Not the face, because that would be too noticeable, but the rib…”

“Oh, ah, sure. I can do that.” Harry tucked into the food then. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate, which was probably a bad sign.

“Milk or juice dear?”

Harry mumbled around the food, then his not-twin answered for him, “Both mom. He looks like he’s going to choke. When was the last time you ate?”

Forcing a swallow, Harry panted out, “Don’t remember,” then kept eating.

“That’s a bit not good,” Blaine was mostly done, sipping his own milk and taking careful deep breaths. He remembered the doctor telling him that that was a good thing to do. He couldn’t remember why, but he did remember it was a good thing to do.

Honestly, Blaine was a little jealous of how easy it was for Harry to breathe now.

“How old are you?” Blaine asked between another bite. Pam flashed him a smile.

“Uh,” Harry grunted and swallowed hard again, giving a quick smile to Pam as he accepted his juice and drank from that. “I should be 18 in a few months.”

“Eighteen?” both said, disbelieving. Blaine continued with, “You look exactly like me and I just turned 15 last month.”

Harry scrunched his brow at that… “Really?” He poked his face with a few fingers as if that would help him see the difference.

“Yeah. I mean, you did fall out of my mirror, it’d make sense if you looked exactly like me,” explained Blaine.

The confusion on Harry’s face got worse. “I remember you saying that last night, ma’am,” he said to Pam, then looked to Blaine, “Did I honestly fall out of your mirror?”

Blaine nodded and Harry drifted off in thought. At least until Pam tapped his plate and he went back to eating.

“That was magic too, wasn’t it?” Blaine had finished his breakfast; Pam had taken the plate and given him another glass of juice to nurse.

“Probably,” Harry said around his food.

“Wow… Where are you from?”

“England.”

“I gathered from the accent. Where specifically?”

Harry sighed, “Surrey. But I think I was born in Wales. I went to school in Scotland.”

“Woah, a true British Man!” Blaine was so enthused about that, his whole face lit up. Harry wondered if he honestly looked like that when he was excited.

“I guess so,” he responded, slowing down his bites since his stomach was starting to hurt from too much too fast.

“Wow!”

Pam watched the pair converse, curious as to how little Harry had eaten. He started looking so ravenous and now was mostly tearing up the pancakes with his fork. Maybe he would like some fruit. She went to the fridge and pulled out the fruit salad she had made earlier in the week and served up a bowl for both of the boys.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t eat another bite,” Harry said when the bowl was placed in front of him. But the look she gave him was more effective than Mrs. Weasley’s and he immediately stabbed a piece of melon with his fork and ate it with a smile.

Blaine laughed, then stopped and winced. “Hey, could you magic my rib now?” He held his side, calming his breathing.

“Sure,” Harry agreed, grabbing the Hawthorn wand from the counter and pointing it at Blaine. Once more he practically sang out the spell, but under his breath, and Blaine felt the pressure ease exponentially.

“Wow,” Blaine exclaimed with wide eyes, looking down to his body and then back up at Harry, “that’s amazing.”

The simple joy of helping someone with magic made Harry smile, but then he frowned. “I really should probably get home…” As if he had just remembered: he’d defeated Voldemort and then disappeared. Everyone was probably in a panic and thought he was dead!

“That’s probably a good idea,” A new voice said behind them. Harry spun on the stool, wand pointed at the new person. Blaine greeted his dad and Harry’s jaw dropped.

So did his wand.

“Dad?”

… … …

Charles had had a busy morning dealing with the school. All of the photos he’d taken and had made the hospital take were uploaded onto his laptop. He then began several series of emails. One to Kenneth, to get information on Dalton. Then to Dalton. Then to Chris from the firm, asking him to take the case. As a junior partner, Chris was a good choice. Young and brash enough, he wouldn’t mind representing what was most likely a hate crime case.

Hate crime against his own son.

As it was Sunday, there was very little that could be done with the school, but Charles did gather the necessary information to withdraw Blaine from the school for the rest of the year. There was no way his baby boy would be going back to that school.

The new boy was a bit of a conundrum though. Charles had no idea what to do with him. He had some favors he could call in with the local detectives… but maybe hearing his story first would be better.

If he wasn’t some crazy psycho killer.

When Charles heard his wife and youngest son heading downstairs, he knew he needed to wrap it up. She probably had breakfast waiting for them.

He stopped by the bathroom to wash his face to help wake himself up, having only dozed in his chair accidentally through the night.

He made it to the kitchen just in time to hear a British accented voice claim he needed to get home.

And Charles agreed.

But hearing the double declaration from the two boys, who really could be twins, was a shock for the man and he blinked wide behind his gold wire glasses. Hazel eyes tracked the stick as it fell with a clatter, then shot back up to look at Harry.

“I don’t think so,” Charles proclaimed, sliding up next to Pam and giving her temple a kiss. She smiled and leaned against his chest for a moment before he went to grab his own breakfast.

“You…” Harry kept his eyes on the man, standing now. “You look exactly like my dad. Like a... a…”

“A clone?” Blaine offered helpfully.

“Yes, like a clone, thank you!” Harry grabbed his wand from the floor, holding it by his side, but his other hand went to his head. The whole situation was making it hurt.

“Kind of like me. Mom too?”

“Yes, she looks like my mum.”

“Do you have a picture?”

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it. “I do, actually.” He stuffed his wand into his pocket, then dipped a hand into his pouch. Charles was looking down at his bowl and didn’t catch how Harry’s hand disappeared into the flat piece of fabric and then pulled out a photo album that the laws of physics said could not fit.

“That’s so cool!” Blaine said, moving closer to stand next to Harry. They were the same height, which wasn’t very impressive for their age. Harry quirked a smile at Blaine and then went back to his album.

“Here, this one.” Harry turned to the moving picture of Lily and James dancing together.

“Oh wow,” Blaine leaned in close to the picture then looked up at his parents. “They really look just like you two.”

Pam went around the counter to take a look at it herself and started. “Wow,” she agreed, “They do.”

Charles took a bite of the melon from his own bowl of fruit he’d gathered and went to look at the picture.

“Why is it moving?”

Harry turned to look at the double of his dad and then back down to the picture. “Um. Magic, sir.”

“Magic isn’t real.” Charles countered immediately, holding his bowl of fruit and continuing to eat.

All three stared at Charles Anderson and he took a step back. “What?”

“You know, I am surprised that you two believed me so readily,” Harry directed this statement at Blaine and Pam.

“You fell out of my mirror.”

“I saw you with half your arm in that little pouch.”

“.... touché.”

“What?” Charles questioned his family plus one, looking between all the faces.

“Sir, I am what is called a wizard. Normally, I would not be allowed to explain this to you, but since you saw everything by accident and no one has come yet… I think it’s okay.” Harry paused, then added, “I also don't care if it’s okay or not, that rib hurt and I needed to fix it.”

Blaine snickered at Harry’s sass, looking at some of the other pictures in the photo album.

“He healed my rib too, dad,” Blaine offered, stopping to look at a picture of young Harry. They didn’t look as similar then. Harry looked very small and skinny, but Blaine knew he never looked that thin.

Charles furrowed his brow and looked at them all again. “I don’t believe you.”

Harry sighed and grabbed his wand. He flicked it at a nearby potted plant and turned it into a pig. “Tada.”

Charles almost dropped his bowl of fruit. “... touché.”

“Woah!! Holy sh--”

“Language,” Pam interrupted Blaine.

“That’s! Wow!” Blaine put a hand on his mess of curly, half styled hair.

“Magic,” Harry smirked and flicked his wand again, turning to the pig back to a plant.

There was silence as Charles set down the bowl of fruit and made a beeline for the coffee, prepared himself a mug, and took a sip. When he was finished processing the new information, he leaned against the counter in front of the breakfast bar where Harry was standing rigidly, wired with tension. “So magic is real.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re a wizard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you fell through a mirror into my son’s room.”

“Apparently, sir.”

“Do you know how to get back?”

Harry’s posture drooped. “... no sir.”

“Hmm,” Charles contemplated, taking another sip of his coffee, then turned back around to the other side of the counter. Once more, Harry tracked him. “You don’t have a magical way to …” he waved his hand in a circle, “Teleport or something?”

“Oh,” Harry eased himself back into his stool. “I do, but I don’t think I could make it all the way back to England. The farthest I’ve ever gone was just across my own country, sir. I mean… Maybe, but...” he ended with a weak shrug.

“Hmm.”

“I-...” Harry started, then stopped and thought. “Actually. I don’t know where the American Magical society is, but I may have a book about it… Let-... Let me check.” He pulled off his mokeskin pouch and dug his arm deep into it. The entire thing disappeared into the fabric this time and the Andersons all stared.

It took almost a full minute before Harry went, “Aha!” and pulled out a book that really shouldn’t have fit in the pouch, just like the photo album Blaine was still looking through.

“This is one of the books … I think Hermione handed it to me for ‘light reading’.” He laughed sheepishly, setting the book on the counter in front of him with a hefty thud.

“That’s light reading?” questioned Pam, trying not to laugh. The book was at least double the size of the photo album. At least. Maybe triple.

“You don’t know Hermione, this is nothing compared to what she showed me in first-year.” Harry paused a moment to punctuate that statement with his hands doing a poor job of trying to trace the size of the book she’d found Nicolas Flamel in, but quickly gave up and began to flip through the book until he found the section he needed.

“Here,” Harry pointed. “MACUSA is located in … New York City. Woolworth Building.”

“I know where that is,” Pam and Charles said at the same time.

“Could you show me? I should be able to apparate there--that. I mean, teleport?”

Charles nodded and set down his retrieved bowl in the sink, “I’ll get my laptop,” and he left the room.

Pam joined Harry in looking over the book. There were coordinates for an apparation point, but Harry liked having a visual too. A few minutes later a laptop was placed down on top of the book showing a picture of the Woolworth building.

Harry looked at the picture… Then he really took in the laptop. “Oh wow,” he said, tilting his head to look at the laptop from different directions. “That’s… Wow, that’s way more advanced than the one I saw Dudley have last summer…” And that’s when finally Harry noticed the time.

And date.

Pam was the first to notice how Harry had frozen. “Harry?” She prompted, putting her hand on top of his. “What is it?”

“I-...” Harry choked, his eyes fluttering rapidly, and then raised a shaking hand to the date. “It’s 2009?”

“... Yes…” Pam replied slowly, giving his hand a squeeze.

“It’s… No, it’s 1998.”

The three Andersons shared a look amongst themselves. Charles asked, “Harry, when were you born?”

“July 31st, 1980.”

“Woah, he’s even older than Cooper.” Blaine couldn’t stop himself from saying. Pam shushed him.

“Harry,” Charles took over the lead. “What… happened before you fell out of Blaine’s mirror?”

Panicked green eyes met sympathetic hazel and Harry stuttered once before explaining.

… … …

It took several minutes. Pam stayed next to him and held his hand throughout. There was some stuff that Harry obviously left out, the adults could tell, but the war and his part in it--the death of his own parents, and finally destroying Voldemort--that was all explained.

“Maybe,” Pam tried after a long silence had ensued, “Maybe something happened when that man died and that’s why you came here. Maybe because you and Blaine are so similar?”

“Maybe,” Harry could only shrug. “Anything’s possible. Magic tends to be unpredictable around me.” He gestured to his scar on his forehead and forced a laugh.

“Did you still want to try to get to … To this MACUSA place?”

“Even… even if it’s 11 years in the future, I’m sure my friends are still looking for me.” Harry rose from the stool, gathering up the two books and his box of potions and putting them all away in his pouch. “I’ll try apparating to the coordinates from the book. I--” He stopped and swallowed hard.

“Thank you, Pam, Charles. For helping me. Blaine, too. I’m sure it was very scary and so thank you, really, for not just… I don’t know, calling the police or something.”

“Of course,” Charles put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Try to let us know if you’re okay, all right?”

“All right,” Harry gave a weak smile and stepped away from them all. He held his wand at his side and nodded his goodbyes. Then he spun on his heel.

And fell over.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Blaine asked, kicking his feet a little from his stool.

“Blaine, shush,” Pam admonished.

Harry got back to his feet, “That was weird…” And he tried to spin again. This time he kept his footing. “What in the world?” He spun again and this time a pair of cracks were heard as Harry disappeared. Then he came down from upstairs. “It does WORK. But I just can’t get to the coordinates from the book?”

Heading back towards the breakfast bar, Harry pulled the previous book back out and then began to dig for any other books he happened to have in there.

He came out with more than he expected. The Andersons watched as Harry basically ignored them and did a small bit of research right in their kitchen. Charles left as he took a phone call from Chris and Blaine went upstairs to get his Blackberry. The text message he had from his friend was very disheartening. Blaine shared the message with his dad and Charles got into contact with the boy’s parents.

It took Harry about 45 minutes to surface from his mini-research fest. It wasn’t good news.

He sat back in the stool, staring up at the ceiling.

“Harry?” Pam prompted, bringing those green eyes down to meet her. “Did you figure it out?”

Harry hummed and leaned back forward, dropping his head into the middle of the book. “All I can find says that if you can’t reach apparition coordinates than the place doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” Pam replied immediately, but Harry shot to his feet in anger.

“This doesn’t make sense! I-.. I’m going to try something,” And with those ominous words, Harry vanished with a crack similar to before.

“That can’t be good,” Blaine drawled from where he was relaxing on the couch, playing a game on his phone.

Pam had to agree.

… … …

The family was sitting down for dinner in their dining room when they heard a noise upstairs.

Blaine shot to his feet, but Pam pulled him back down and Charles rose instead.

“But what if it’s Harry?” Blaine asked, looking between his parents.

“Then I’ll go talk to him,” Charles replied, heading out of the dining room. He came back not long later with Harry in tow. The wizard was pushed gently into a chair, a place having already been set for him. Pam reached over to start serving him up some food, but Harry waved her off and served himself.

The following ten minutes were stifling in their silence. Finally, Blaine couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “So where did you go?”

Harry was silent for a while, finishing the bite he’d taken before answering, “... Everywhere I could think of.”

“Did you find anything?” Blaine asked without nearly as much tact as his parents would have liked.

Harry shook his head silently, taking another bite.

Pam spoke up this time, Blaine having been shocked into his own silence. “I’m so sorry Harry.”

The wizard shrugged and let out a harsh sigh. “I checked the two major schools and a few other hubs of magic I could find in the books. I even checked Woolworth, but there was nothing. There’s…” he trailed off, stabbing at the mashed potatoes on his plate, not that it accomplished much. It was already mashed. “There’s no magical world.

“Even if MASCUA had moved, Salem’s Institute wouldn’t have. It’s been there forever. And Illvermorny too! I c-... I can’t explain it. Something really crazy must have happened that I --” Harry stopped as he thought, remembering a conversation he’d had with Hermione about the Veil.

It had been during the time that Ron had left them and they were just sitting in the tent, reading different books. Harry had confessed to Hermione that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be an Auror anymore… He was sick of the fighting… And that maybe he would try to research the Veil. It just didn’t feel right that Sirius could go through a curtain and be dead.

Hermione had told him that the spell Bellatrix had shot at Sirius probably killed him and Harry relented it was true, but he was still interested… so Hermione brought up theoretical physics of all things and the possibilities of alternate dimensions and the studies wizards had done in regards to similar theories.

That conversation came back to Harry now and it took Blaine actually clapping in front of his face to bring him back to the present. “Wut?”

“Welcome back, Harry,” Blaine quirked a smile. Harry was reminded of how similar they looked. It really was like looking in a mirror. Except… the eyes. “Did you think of something?”

“Erm, yeah,” Harry took a bite of food to organize his thoughts better before speaking, “I think I may be from an alternate dimension.”

That brought silence to the dinner table, except for Harry’s quiet chewing.

“You mean like in Donnie Darko?” Blaine asked and Harry looked at him befuddled.

“What?”

“You know, Donnie Darko?”

“Blaine, dear, Harry is from 1998, don’t forget…” Pam cut in, ever the mediator.

The young Anderson looked super put out before realizing that the movie probably came out after 1998. At least that’s what he assumed his mom meant, it’s not like Blaine knew when the movie was released.

“Harry,” Charles interrupted Blaine’s thoughts, “Why do you think that?”

“Well, from what little--and this is very little that I know about physics, is that The Big Bang Theory says that our universe is ever-expanding out an infinite amount and that means there’s an infinite amount of universes out there or something.

“Wizards, and some of the crazier physicists, according to my friend, believe that they are ways to interact and even travel to these parallel or alternate universes. Or dimensions. Or whatever.

“There was this… this...” Harry took a moment to wave his hand, unable to find the right word, “This thing? In my … world… that people believe lead to the Realm of Death. If you went through this Veil, you never came back and were assumed dead.

“My godfather fell through it… Remember how I said he died? Well, he was protecting me, but also battling his stupid, crazy cousin Bellatrix and she hit him with a curse and he fell through the Veil.

“I know he’s dead, nothing that stupid bint Bellatrix would use would be nothing but deadly, but… It’s just... hard to believe that falling through a curtain would kill you.” Harry stared at the table after his mini-speech on a topic he still wasn’t fully sure he understood. Yeah, Hermione had done her best, but she tended to explain things like a teacher which didn’t always work for Harry.

Charles tapped his chin with the handle of his fork. “It’s an interesting idea and it would explain why you can’t find any of your… magical places here. Maybe, in our universe, there isn’t magic.”

“Does that mean,” Blaine picked up the line of thought, “That I’m you from your world? And you’re me?”

Harry paused and stared, taking a moment to push up his glasses--Blaine’s glasses, actually-- and nodded slowly. “I guess so. I did fall out of your mirror, it would make sense if I was your… alternate, so to speak.”

“Woah, cool, I’m a wizarding superhero…” Blaine muttered under his breath. Pam smacked him on the hand since she couldn’t reach his head. Thankfully, Harry laughed.

… … …

The rest of dinner passed without much more discussions about where Harry came from. Harry felt like he fit in, strangely, in this domestic scene, even with his still slightly battle-torn clothes. Afterward, Harry insisted on helping with dishes, since they really didn’t need to prepare food for him. Pam relented since he only really need to load them into the dishwasher, which was a completely novel experience to the wizard.

“My aunt and uncle never had one of these… They liked making me do them,” he explained as he loaded the last of the plates where Pam pointed.

“They don’t sound like very nice people... You said your aunt was related to your mom?”

“Yeah, Petunia was Mum’s older sister.”

Pam hummed in thought. “I do have an older sister, but she doesn’t sound at all like your aunt…”

“Really?” Harry snapped his head up. “Could I… I mean, I …” he rubbed the back of his head, “Could I see a picture of her? If she looks like Aunt Petunia, then… I think it would be more evidence of my theory.”

It took the woman a moment before she remembered what they spoke about during dinner. “Oh! Yes, right. Come this way. Just close the dishwasher, I’ve got pictures of just about everyone in the den.” Pam left the kitchen and lead the way. Harry did as he was asked and followed behind.

Once they reached the den, which just looked like a living room, but more comfortable, Pam pointed out a bunch of pictures on the wall. They were different sizes and in a staggered pattern, but the frames were all the same color. It was very artful, so much so that even Harry could recognize it. The staggered pattern reminded him of the Burrow, but he enjoyed the symmetry of it.

“Here, this is our wedding.” Pam pointed to a picture. It was oddly remincist of the picture Harry had of his own parents' wedding. There was Charles, looking just like James, and Pam, like Lily, but both were wearing different outfits. Especially Charles, since he wasn’t in formal wizarding robes.

Next to Pam was a taller woman, but much prettier than his Aunt Petunia. Harry stepped closer and squinted, tilting his head. “She looks similar, but not exactly the same. Not like how you do. Your hair color isn’t as bright, and you don’t have green eyes like my mum does, but… your face is the same. Your sister has the same coloring as Petunia, but she’s… Well, she’s prettier.”

Pam laughed at that confession, causing Harry’s already forming blush to get worse.

“What’s so funny?” Blaine came in, walking over to his mom’s side and tucking himself in. At 15, Blaine was still shorter than his mom sadly. That meant Harry was too, so Blaine didn’t feel so bad. In fact, Blaine felt good about the fact that Harry was shorter… albeit the same height as him.

“Just something Harry said about your aunt.”

“Auntie Sabrina?”

Pam nodded and Harry mouthed the name Sabrina before turning back to look at the picture. The man standing next to Charles… Harry wanted him to look like Sirius but he really didn’t. He didn’t look like anyone Harry recognized and he was kind of… disappointed.

His sigh, which he was unaware of, brought the Andersons’ attention to him and Pam put a hand on Harry’s shoulder before turning to Blaine, “Why don’t you get some pajamas for Harry, Blaine? I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up.”

“What?” Harry turned to look at her and stared. “No, no, I can’t stay here.”

“Where else will you go?” Charles interrupted, leaning against the wall that opened into the den.

Harry opened his mouth to respond but when he realized he couldn’t answer he looked down and shuffled his feet. “I-... I have to go back.” The words were said quietly, but firmly.

“Why?” Charles' single word felt like a slap to the face.

“Why? Why?” Harry looked up and glared, eyes almost glowing in his anger. “I just finished a war! Of course, I have to go back! I have to … I have to help rebuild! I have to!... There’s… My friends! The Weasleys! Ron and Hermione and.. And... And Ginny!”

Charles released a quick breath and stepped over to Harry, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Harry. I understand that you want to see your friends, but it seems to me that none of the adults responsible for your safety took any reasonable protective measures. Even if you were to find a way back, you would be putting yourself in the hands of those same people and none of them seem to have your best interests at heart.”

“But Mrs. Weasley…” Harry protested almost weakly and Charles held up a hand to silence him. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let that stop him, but Charles had a way about him--probably because he looked so much like James (or because he was a lawyer) or because he was just used to people listening to him… so Harry shut up.

“I understand that she provided a maternal figure in caring for you, but she only did it when it was convenient for her, not when it was in your best interest.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest once more, but realized that argument… it could apply to all of them. Even Ron and Hermione. Yeah, they went with him on that Horcrux Hunt, but… “My friends… they were there for me… when I needed them.”

But Charles was ready for that. “Your friends, being your age--even at 18--couldn’t reasonably be expected to look out for you more than they did. But a few friends, no matter how close, are not a good enough reason to risk your life and try to find a way back to that world. Not only do you not know how it was done, but you also do not have a magical library to research from like you did at Hogwarts.”

Charles squeezed both of Harry’s shoulders, “Remember your friends fondly,” he expressed and the wizard stared at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t start crying or something ridiculous. “But do not let them hinder you from living your life.”

That… That did it. Harry felt his body shudder and covered his mouth with his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, keeping quiet as his body shook with his tears. Charles was the first to bring Harry in for a hug, followed by Blaine attaching himself to his doppelganger’s back. Pam joined last, her arms around all of them, as best as she could.

The hug lasted until Harry stopped his silent tears, though the Andersons all kept close to him, touching him in some way. He leaned away, wiping his eyes with his dirty sleeves.

He muttered his thanks and then looked up at Charles. “What should I do, though? I-... I’ve only known magic for the last seven years, I stopped my Muggle education at 11. I expected to remain in the magical world, which doesn’t exist here.”

“Stay,” Blaine said, wrapping both of his arms around one of Harry’s. “Stay. Here. With us. With me. We could pass ourselves off as twins, right?” he looked at both of his parents when he said that, and Pam had to agree--they were too identical. Though, the eyes...

“It’s… Not a bad idea,” Charles hedged, “But I have no idea how we would make it work… Paperwork and all.”

Blaine looked bewildered, and so did Harry--the looks just enforcing how similar they were.

“Birth certificates Blaine. Social security numbers. How do we explain away the British accent?”

“Uh. Cousin?” Blaine more guessed than stated, “You still have family back in England. Plus Grandfather retired there.”

“You two look far too alike to be cousins,” Pam interrupted and was hit with the two identical faces of Blaine and Harry, the only difference being eye color and the fact that Harry was wearing glasses--Blaine had put his contacts in and cleaned up during the long hours that Harry was gone.

“Well,” Blaine trailed off… then shrugged. “Maybe magic can fix it?” He looked at Harry and Harry startled and looked around him.

“... Uhm… I mean, yeah, I could use some magic… If you get me originals, I could make duplicates and use magic to change the names… but… I mean. Do you…” Harry rubbed his hands together, unsure. “Do you really want to do that?”

“I think,” Charles interrupted, “We should talk about this in the morning. Blaine, get Harry some pajamas and clothes for tomorrow. Harry, I’ll show you to the bathroom.” Then he, with his hand on Harry’s shoulder, forced the conversation to end, steering the wizard from the room.

Blaine stood there with his mouth open and looked to his mom for help. She just shook her head. “Do as your dad asked. This really isn’t a conversation we can have right now.” It had been obvious to her just how exhausted Harry was and knew the rest would do him good.

The teen deflated with that, even his curls seemed to sag, but he nodded anyway and went to his room to pick out some items for Harry. He was kind of glad that he had some new, still in-the-package boxers he could give his double too. Otherwise, that would have been awkward.

He knocked on Harry’s door, but hearing nothing, opened the door and put the clothes on the desk next to all of the books Harry had left behind. As he turned to leave the room, he bumped into Harry in a towel. Blaine squeaked and stumbled backward and then looked Harry up and down.

“Did you even use soap?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. That shower was just too fast!

Harry actually blushed, down to his chest. “I used the bar that was in there…”

“Shampoo and conditioner?”

The question was so obvious on Harry’s face.

“You do know what those are, right?”

“Yes!” Harry insisted, his blush getting worse. “... but I didn’t use them… I wasn’t sure what was okay for me to use.”

“Oh my gosh,” Blaine dropped his head back and actually shoved Harry. “Go back and use ANYTHING you want in the shower! ANYTHING Okay? Use all the hot water and whatever! Just pamper yourself some, okay?” Blaine kept pushing Harry all the way back into the bathroom. “I’ll bring you a toothbrush too, I bet dad didn’t even think of that!” He rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him.

Harry stood there for a minute, staring blankly and then laughed before going back to the shower.

He heard when Blaine opened the door, especially when the boy started talking to him. “I’ve got you a toothbrush. It’s green, mines blue. I’m the only other one who uses this bathroom, so whatever. You’re my double, so use it like it’s your own. Not my toothbrush though, that’s gross.” The last sentence was tacked on as an afterthought and Harry laughed in the shower.

“Okay, Blaine.”

“Do you want the pajamas so you don’t have to walk around in a towel?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“... Okay!” Blaine finally left and Harry was able to finish his shower.

… … …

The next morning, Harry was the first one up. Unsurprisingly, it had been a nightmare that startled him awake. When he quickly cast Tempus he saw that it was barely after five in the morning.

He took a moment to rub his face and just relish in the fact that he was… to put it bluntly: safe.

Sure, he wasn’t with his friends. He didn’t know these people he was with, but they had treated him like family and accepted him and magic so readily. Plus they were… they were James and Lily, possibly, just this dimension’s version of them. That made it a lot easier to accept this… turn of events.

After taking a breath, Harry rolled out of bed, put his glasses back on--well. Blaine’s again. He’d repaired his with magic, but the prescription wasn’t nearly as correct, so those black rectangles went back on his face instead of the black circles.

He stumbled into the bathroom next, wand sticking out of his pocket, and went about brushing his teeth.

The fact he didn’t have a reflection had startled him when he did this last night, but he kind of understood. He bet Blaine didn’t have one either. It had made him wonder.

But no amount of prodding at the mirror--with his fingers last night, or his wand this morning, yielded anything.

After spitting and rinsing his mouth, Harry got a crazy idea. He ran back to his room and fished around in his mokeskin pouch … for… Aha!

Just like last summer, Harry cut his damned finger on the mirror. The thing was a menace. He sucked on the bleeding digit and looked at the mirror. “Aberforth!” he tried saying, but nothing happened. “Hermione?” he attempted, poking at this mirror with his wand. He still didn’t have a reflection. That could be a problem…

“Come on, someone…” He threw random magic at the mirror, just intent, and a swish, but nothing happened. “Bollocks.” Harry dropped his head back, feeling defeated. He couldn’t fully accept that he was stuck here, despite everything Charles had said the night before… even though he did agree with the man.

He flopped back onto the bed, pouch resting on his chest. His mind wandered, playing over the events of the last few days… and that's when he remembered another communication device, of sorts, he had.

It took barely a minute before Harry was holding the Resurrection Stone in his hand again. The situation was very different this time as he turned the stone around three times, wishing for someone--anyone--to come and help him.

Amazingly, it seemed to work. A figure appeared to be walking towards him through smoke. Harry couldn’t make out who it was though…

“Harry Potter.”

There was only one person in the entire Multiverse who could make his name sound as if it were a curse while speaking in a deadpan tone.

“Snape!?”

“Professor Snape,” the shade corrected, coalescing into an ethereal shape like Harry had witnessed in the forest before his, well, death? “You never were one to learn to respect your betters.”

“Shut it,” Harry responded, sitting up on the bed and glaring at the man. “Why did you come? Why not Professor Dumbledore?”

The shade of Snape rolled its eyes. It was very impressive to watch. “Someone had to come to actually educate you.”

Harry paused, then, “Then why not Professor Dumbledore?”

For a moment it looked like Snape would try to strangle him. Harry felt it was a win. He may respect this man, but he was still a git.

“You do know your plea could be heard deep within the Realm of Death, right? But only one of us could come.”

“Then why not someone else? Why not… someone like Mum?”

Snape’s face went from disdain to stone. It was a minuscule shift, but a telling one. “I can go and then you’ll never have your answer.”

“No!” Harry shot up out of the bed and reached for Snape, who had turned away with his words, but Harry’s hand went through his form. “No, I-... gah. I’m sorry sir, please. I.. I … can I get back home?”

Snape turned back to face the boy in front of him, who looked like he was the boy from back in 5th year instead of the one he’d given his memories to just two days prior. “No, Potter, you cannot.”

Once more, Harry felt like he’d been slapped with words. He winced and sank back down onto the bed.

“Whatever magic left The Dark Lord’s body, when it hit you, should have killed you. But as you were holding all three of the Deathly Hallows, it didn’t. It did the next best thing--it brought you to your closest mirrored self.”

“So I am in an alternate dimension.”

“Yes, you are. I suspect that was something Granger taught you.” Even in death, Snape was questioning his intelligence. Harry sneered and felt his respect for the man diminishing. Even if he was right.

“Are you angry?” Snape dared to mock him, “Sad? Upset? Are you going to throw a tantrum as you did in the Headmaster’s office before?”

Harry snapped his head up and threw his best glare at Snape.

“You have living parents here, Potter. They may not be exactly the same as yours, but they’re still your parents. Any blood test would prove it. Get over it and be happy.”

“How can you say that? You never got over my mum!”

“And I was unhappy, do you still suffer from selective hearing? Or are you just that determined to grow up to become me?”

The pair sneered at each other. Harry looked away first, flopping back with his arms crossed over his chest. Snape smirked at his victory.

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Potter, that the Know-it-all Granger thought ahead for your long journey whilst camping. If you check your fancy little pouch, you’ll find a book on Occlumency.”

Again, Harry looked up at his dead professor quickly. “What? How do you know that?”

“Because I do, obviously.” Snape’s eyebrow, raised high, told Harry he was an idiot for questioning the man. “It should be easier to learn now without that Horcrux in your head. If you can scrape together the last few brain cells you have left from your multiple head injuries and near-death experiences, you should be able to use it to catch yourself up on your Muggle education.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“What else are you going to do? You’re a teenager and there is no magical world here, I will confirm that for you as well.” Snape turned to the side and his face screwed up like he was tasting something sour. “Harry, you have the chance to actually live your life here. Don’t waste it.”

Harry’s eyes went wide behind his glasses, hearing Snape say that. It reminded him of what Charles had said the night before, about living his life… No one would know him here, quite literally. He could be Just Harry, a novelty he had always wanted…

Maybe this was a good thing? In a really terribly, depressing way?

“All right… professor. Thank you.”

Yet again, Snape’s face showed his disgust. He didn’t even respond, just scoffed and turned back.

That’s when another shape came out of the shadows.

“HI HARRY!”

“FRED!?” Harry yelped, facing breaking out into a happy-sad grin.

“HEY!!!”

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape tried to say, admonishing the young man. “You were not supposed to come.”

“Pft, as if I could resist.” Fred waved off the comment, deeming it completely unimportant. Snape muttered something about ‘rules’ but that too was ignored. “Hey Harry, my awesome little brother you.” The shade knelt down in front of Harry on the floor, letting a hand shift through Harry’s leg, starting at the knee. Harry shivered from the contact.

“I kind of had to force my way here, so I don’t have much time, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to keep an eye on everyone, okay? Hopefully, I remember this and I can tell them that you’re okay, and to not try to get you back.

“You’ll be happy here, Harry, I just know it. I want you to, well, not forget us, because we’re your awesome family, but to … What was it that Marauder Prongs 2.0 said? Remember us fondly? Yeah. You should do that.”

Harry wondered for a second how Fred knew about that, but his thoughts were interrupted as Fred plowed on.

“I think this place and this family will be good for you. After all, they’re your real family, after all. And you even get two older brothers!”

Again, Harry wondered how Fred knew this. Harry didn’t even know that.

“So, do what the old bat says. Learn that mind magic and study like a Muggle. Or rather, study like Hermione. Make us all proud.” Fred rose to his feet then and gave Harry a jaunty salute. “I’ve got to go now. I’m going to become the new Gryffindor House ghost, so you don’t have to worry about any of them. I’ll watch out for them all for you!”

“Time to go, Mr. Weasley,” Snape grabbed Fred by the shoulder, the two shades able to interact with each other. Fred waved goodbye happily, even while being dragged backward by their most hated professor.

As both shades disappeared Harry had to laugh. The laughter almost felt hysterical and did eventually turn to tears.

So this was it, huh? No more going home. No more Hermione, no more Ron, no more Ginny. No Weasleys. No Teddy. No Hogwarts or magical world. Just…

Just…

Just this.

He fell back asleep thinking of that.

… … …

Blaine came in to wake Harry up a few hours later. He was curious why he had his glasses on and was above the covers.

When he went to shake Harry’s shoulder, the wizard’s eyes snapped open and Blaine felt his wand under his chin. “Good morning?” he offered, laughing nervously.

“Blaine?” Harry’s voice croaked and he cleared it a few times, though he didn’t move his wand. Constant Vigilance.

“Yeah, buddy, Blaine. Mind moving your stick?”

“Wand.” Harry corrected automatically, moving the wand away as he did. He flicked out a Tempus spell once more and nodded. Now was a good time to wake up, even though his mouth felt like ass again.

“Yeah, wand, that’s what I said. You hungry? Mom is still around, but I usually just have cereal during the week.”

Harry blinked really slowly, his speech equally slow. “Wut?”

“Food. Hungry. You. Downstairs. Breakfast?”

When Harry didn’t respond, Blaine just grabbed his free hand that didn’t have the wand and hauled him to his feet.

“So we’ve got a few different kinds of cereals, I don’t know what you might like but my favorite is just Frosted Flakes, it’s so good to eat with like. Bananas and strawberries and other fruits. I love when the blackberries outside are in season and I can just pick fresh ones to eat in the morning.”

Harry stumbled along behind Blaine who didn’t seem to have an off button, even at 8 am.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

That seemed to work at turning off the boy.

“No… I’m not going back there.”

“Oh? What happened?”

Blaine turned an incredulous look on Harry. “I got beat up.”

“So? I almost died often at Hogwarts, but I always went back. Well, except for the last year, but… well whatever, I still went back.”

Blaine’s look got worse, starting to think the wizard was maybe a little crazy. “Mom and Dad pulled me out of school. Things are done differently here.”

Harry thought about that and nodded. “Okay, that makes sense.” then continued on downstairs, Blaine taking up the rear now.

After they had taken a seat, both with a bowl of Frosted Flakes, Blaine brought up the question he had been curious about for a while.

“So, Harry. Are you straight?”

“What?”

“You know, straight. You only like girls?”

The spoon, which had been halfway to Harry’s mouth, was lowered back down into his cereal. “Is that really important?”

“No, I’m just curious. I’m gay. Dad… Dad doesn’t really like that, though.”

“Gay… like queer?”

Blaine winced but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah.”

“You like other men?”

Again, Blaine nodded.

“Okay.”

Blaine waited… but when Harry went back to eating his cereal, he stopped him. “Wait, that’s it? Just okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be okay? It’s you and your life, if you want to like boys, you can like boys.”

‘This is surreal,’ thought Blaine, just staring at his doppelganger. “Do you like boys?”

“I… don’t think I do?” Harry sounded genuinely curious at that, but then shrugged. “I’ve only ever dated girls, but I wouldn't really call what I did dating. Ginny and I snogged some, but that’s kind of it… I was fighting a war, I didn’t have much time to think about other stuff.

“Though,” Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, “I do vaguely recall finding Ron’s eldest brother very cool.” Harry took a bite of cereal and shrugged. “I still think he’s really cool. But his wife is gorgeous too.”

Blaine was reduced, once more, to staring. “Maybe… you’re bi?”

“Is that someone who likes both?”

“Yeah.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve got way too much going on to really think about that right now, don’t you think Blaine?”

The teen finally looked sheepish, ducking his head and returning to his own cereal, scooping out a spoonful of a banana slice and some flakes to eat so his mouth would be full. Harry bumped his shoulder against his to show there were no hard feelings, and Blaine gave him a chipmunk cheeked closed mouth smile to show all was well.

… … …

Charles had gone in to work at the time he usually did but was able to wrap up pretty early. He returned home just after lunch with a briefcase full of casework, as well as some of the details for Blaine’s suit against his school. Unfortunately, that spot of the parking lot had no cameras.

He also had a list of all of the documents that they may need to help integrate Harry into their lives, and into society, if that was the decision they came to.

This really was a bit much to handle all at once, but Charles was a pro at multitasking. He’d once handled four high profile cases at once. He had barely slept and was nearly hospitalized by the end, but he still had done it.

Noise from the den told him where his son was--possibly with their guest, and he suspected his wife was in their shared office, so that’s where he decided to head.

Sure enough, she was seated at her computer, email open on the screen, but her eyes were clearly focused internally.

“Hello, my darling wife,” Charles went to his own desk and set down his briefcase. He delighted in how she startled, admonishing him with a quote ‘oh Charles!’ and yet she laughed.

“You were very far away,” he left the question unsaid as he took out Blaine’s case notes.

Pam merely hummed and turned back to look at her husband. “What happened at work today?”

“The case?”

She nodded.

“I’ve got paperwork for Blaine to enter Dalton ready. It’s possible he’ll be able to take his finals there as well since his school just uses the standardized tests. The dean said that they could arrange it for us if we wanted.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah… His removal from that school was official as of 11 am this morning. The lawsuit was filed at 10 am.” He paused here, taking a seat on his desk chair, turning it to face his wife. “The parking lot cameras only show Blaine and his friend leaving the school and then a large group of people leaving after. The area they were beat-up seems to be a blind spot.

“Chris thinks that whoever did this to them knew about that blindspot and utilized it in their attack. Richards, the detective we got on the case, agrees. It’s unfortunate--if we knew who did this, we could file this case as a hate crime. Unfortunately, with the evidence we have thus far, it’s merely assault, but even that is flimsy since the parking lot could be considering ‘not on school grounds’.”

It was easy to see how much this bothered Charles, and Pam shared his feelings. Not being able to protect their little boy was the absolute worst.

The pair shared a not uncomfortable silence, lost in individual thoughts, before Charles brought up the other things he had done at work. “I know what paperwork we would need to make Harry apart of our lives.”

Pam looked up quickly with a strange look on her face. Possibly… hopeful?

But before more could be said there was a knock at the door.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Harry looked down to his feet and cleared his throat before looking up with a firm resolve. “I heard you come home, sir. I was wondering if we could… possibly have that chat we’ve been putting off now? If at all possible, I would like things to be settled.”

Too old. Both Andersons shared that thought but didn’t voice it.

“Of course, Harry,” Charles got to his feet, grabbed a few other papers from his briefcase, and then held out a hand to his wife. “Let’s talk in the den, shall we?”

The wizard nodded and lead the way back to the room he had just been in with Blaine. Hanging out with his fellow teen had been enlightening… and dare he say it… fun? Considering Harry had been fighting a war two days prior and whatnot, it was surreal to just sit and learn how to use a smartphone.

The group of four settled down in the den, Harry taking a chair while Blaine and Pam shared the couch. Charles was in the other chair, the papers from before on his lap.

“So,” Charles began as if he was directing a meeting at his law firm, “We’re going to discuss what to do about you, Harry, who does not exist in our… dimension, but seems to be stuck here.”

“I … Am actually stuck here,” interrupted the wizard, even raising his hand as he did. “I--. This will sound a little crazy, but I was able to contact the spirits of some people from my world and … yeah, they explained some things and … yeah, I’m… I’m here for good.”

“Well that makes the decision a lot easier, doesn’t it?” Blaine poisted, sitting forward on the couch. “Harry stays and becomes my brother. Wait, Harry, when is your birthday?” Even though Harry had told them the day prior, Blaine had forgotten.

“July 31st, why?”

“Then you can be the younger brother! My birthday is April 14th!”

Harry’s face scrunched in confusion. “But I was born in 1980, it’s 2009, shouldn’t I be the older twin?”

“No way, you’re 15 again just like me! And since you were born in July, and I was born in April, I am the older twin by…” Blaine counted the months quickly, “four months.” And then grinned charmingly.

The wizard didn’t know what to say, looking from Blaine to Pam to Charles. “I-... …?” He looked between them all again. “What?”

“Blaine, you’re getting ahead of yourself,” admonished Charles, leaning forward in his seat like his son had. “Harry. Do you want to stay here with us? Become a member of our family? Become an Anderson?”

Harry opened his mouth, trying to think… but then he remembered what Fred had said and, firming his resolve again, nodded. “I do.”

Pam put a hand on Blaine’s arm, the teen ready to burst from excitement.

“All right. I have a list of all the documents you will need to use your magic on. We should be able to come up with some kind of story... “ Charles looked over at Pam, doing his best to hide a wince. “I called Damien to get his help.”

“Damien? Damien White!? Your cousin? That crazy hacker!?”

“Yes…”

“Why would you do that!?”

“I spent a long time thinking about what we could say in regards to Harry and I think saying that he went to England to live my aunt and uncle would be the best. Since they passed away recently, that could explain why Harry is back here with us and with an accent.”

Pam scoffed, folding her arms over her chest.

“But,” Blaine interrupted the brewing fight between his parents, “Why would Harry have gone to England?”

Charles hesitated before admitting, “That’s where I’m a little stuck…”

“What if,” piped up Harry, “I had been sick? That happens often with twins, doesn’t it? Where one is sickly and the other is fine?” When he got a few nods, he continued, “Well what if that happened to me? And … and … like, I don’t know, maybe the hospitals in England were better equipped to deal with it or something?” The wizard seemed very hesitant by the end of his suggestion, hands curled up in his lap.

Pam was the first to speak, “That’s a very clever idea, Harry.” She offered him a kind smile and he smiled shyly in response.

“It’s better than clever, that could very well work,” Charles was as close to gushing as the man got. “No one will care too much about the specific details, but even so, Damien should be able to get the paperwork to match whatever we come up with. We just need the hardcopies so he can work them into the system for us.”

Harry snuck a glance over to Blaine, really curious as to who this Damien White was… the last name made him wonder if maybe the hacker cousin was… But he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Blaine mouthed the word ‘later’ and Harry gave a tiny nod.

Pam sighed and got to her feet. “Give me the list, I’ll go dig them out.” Charles smiled as his wife and passed it over and she quickly disappeared from the room, muttering about stupid husbands.

“Harry,” Charles spoke up once she was gone, “We will have to change your name… Are you fine with becoming an Anderson?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry sat back in his chair, face thoughtful. “All my life I’ve only ever wanted to be Just Harry… Not Freak, Boy, Scarhead, The Boy-Who-Lived, or any of that rot… and hopefully being ‘Harry Anderson’ will allow me to be just that. Normality, unsurprisingly, sounds divine after the war.”

“Well, hopefully we can give you that… son.” Charles gave Harry a little smile and the wizard flushed happily.

Blaine watched this movie with wide eyes, happy himself, then interrupted with. “Hey Harry, what’s your middle name? Mine is Devon, after grandpa.”

“Eh? Oh… It’s James. After my father.”

“James, huh?” Charles tapped his chin. “I think I have a great uncle named that... “

“Harry was a family name too, I think, for a great-something-grandfather. But I’m not certain.”

Charles waved away the comment. “If you’re not sure, don’t bother bringing it up.” It really was a simple solution.

“Oh, right, yes, of course, sir.”

“Not ‘sir’. You can… well, I realize this might be difficult, but you should probably start calling Pam and I, ‘mom’ and ‘dad’.”

“I never knew my mum and dad, sir… The few memories I have of them are… not pleasant… excluding, well.” Harry was not prepared to tell them about that death march into the forest. “Anyway. It won’t be difficult at all to call you that… to …” Harry stopped, a smile kept worming its way onto his face. “Dad.”

Just like the first time Blaine and Cooper had said ‘dada’, Charles felt a surge of pride. He and Pam had always felt that two kids were perfect, but maybe three would be even better. Then he realized something. “Oh no, this is going to be very difficult to explain to Cooper.”

Blaine’s eyes went huge, jaw-dropping.

“Who’s Cooper?” Harry had to ask.

… … …

Once Harry had been briefed on the minor family history, including the White family they were related to--and a picture confirmed what Harry worried about: Damien was a dead ringer for Sirius. Damnit.

When Harry pointed it out, Charles got a curious look on his face. “Damien would probably love to play your godfather if you want him to, kid.”

A part of Harry kind of desperately wanted it. But another part thought it might be a terrible idea. Then again… “how often would I even see him?”

“Rarely.”

“Blaine, do you have a godfather?”

“Yeah.”

“So it would make sense if I had one too…”

“It would,” Charles answered.

Harry nodded. “Okay. I don’t want to … pretend he is Sirius, but … If we are going to pretend I basically grew up with him around, it would make sense if I-... if I’m attached.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Pam returned finally with a stack of papers and other items.

It took about an hour for Harry to magic himself copies from the documents provided. Once they were done with that, Pam decided it was time to start on dinner. Harry insisted on helping, but Blaine begged off to go practice his guitar. Charles gathered the papers while suggesting Blaine should be studying, but his son shrugged it off.

Taking the papers upstairs, Charles took a seat at his desk and called his cousin on Skype. He knew the man was practically glued to his computer, despite the hour in London, and sure enough, a small webcam video popped up on the screen soon after.

“Yo Charlie,” Damien said, “What can I do for my fine cousin?”

“Damien,” Charles said in greeting, “I’m ready to clarify that favor.” While explaining, he was scanning in the documents that Harry had made.

“Oooo, please, spill the dirt, I love gossip.” Damien leaned closer to the screen, sitting up more properly.

“This is top secret,” Charles warned. “I do not want this getting out to any of your other hacker buddies.”

Damien looked surprised. “What have you gotten yourself into coz?”

Charles out a sigh… and started to explain. He left out a lot, but the fact that someone had magically fallen through Blaine’s mirror and looked like he could be his son’s twin was revealed.

Surprisingly, or maybe… unsurprisingly, Damien took it in stride. “Huh. Nice to know that some parts of String Theory could be correct.”

“How do you know about String Theory?”

“What do you think I do all day?”

“I really couldn’t tell you, Damien, I know my wife has some rather salacious ideas about what you do, but I honestly have no clue.”

Damien chortled happily with that information. “One of my monitors is always full of different web searches. I love researching new topics. You know me, my goal is to know everything. I practically invented Wikipedia. Anyway, alternate dimensions. Awesome. So what’s the plan?”

“We thought we could try making Harry Blaine’s twin. That’s where you come in… we need you to help us get him into the system.”

“As Blaine’s twin? What happened, why wasn’t he with you then?”

“Sick and at a hospital in England. To explain the accent.”

“That…” Damien made a face, scratching at his scraggly beard. “That’s stupid. You’re making it way too complicated. Why can’t he just be some kid you adopted?”

“Two reasons: One, Harry looks far too identical to Blaine to pass off as a random kid, and two, why would we be adopting an English kid at 15?”

Damien shrugged, the picture going choppy for a second before smoothing out again. “Okay, good reasons. But why not just say he’s your cousin?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s easier to change documents that already exist than to try to create something brand new. Harry could be the result of one of dad’s affairs.”

Charles sat back in his chair, shocked. “Uncle Orman had an affair?”

Damien nodded, “Oh yeah, Dad was a huge man-whore.” He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and Charles saw a series of pictures come through his Skype chat that were paparazzi-style shots showing his Uncle Orman with increasingly younger women. “In fact, about 15 years ago, one of his mistresses had an abortion. Perfect place to insert Harry. Just change the abortion to leaving at an orphanage.”

“Even I know the statistics on babies in orphanages, they usually get adopted. Why would Harry still be there?”

“Bad luck,” Damien replied easily, tapping away at the keys.

“And his mother?”

“That mistress is actually dead. And dear old daddy is dead too, so no one can complain if I say I suddenly found him. After all, we all know how much I like to deep dive into the net.”

Charles thought about this for a second, listening to some laughter that drifted up from downstairs. “That still doesn’t explain why Blaine and Harry would look like twins.”

“Well, that…” Damien clicked a few buttons again on his keyboard and Charles soon saw a link posted in his chat. “Look at that.”

So he did and found a study about how ‘We All Have Seven Doppelgangers’ which extrapolated from the Infinite Monkey Theorem. Charles didn’t read all of it, just skimmed enough to get a vague idea.

“You’re basically saying we shrug off the resemblance.”

“Yup. Besides, there is a family resemblance, too. Like how Reggy looks like Cousin Inga.”

Charles thought about that. Reginald, Damien’s younger brother, really did look like their cousin Ingrid. More so than she looked like her sisters, anyway.

“Okay, okay, that’s fair…”

“So all you need to do is get the kid to magic himself over here, and I’ll ship him back to you on a plane and boom. You’ve got yourself a newly adopted son. Fake adoption papers are super easy to make since they’re already all about ‘entering new information into the system’.” Damien was clicking away on his computer before Charles could say much more, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, his cousin continued, “What’s Harry’s middle name?”

“J-... It’s James. Harry James Potter, he said his real name is.”

“Beautiful,” Damien replied, eyes on one of his many screens.

Charles huffed and sat back in his chair. “Are you saying that we spent an hour thinking of a good cover story and having Harry magic up a US birth certificate for nothing?”

“Not nothing, I’m sure it was great practice for the little wizard.” Damien’s reply was flippant and he had a huge smirk on his face as he said it. It caused Charles to sigh again.

The pair sat in silence for a while, Damien already working on hacking Harry into the system. He knew just the orphanage to ‘drop’ him off at as well.

“You know,” Damien piped up after a while. “I’m kind of excited to get a new little brother. Reggy has been a giant tosser lately.”

“You were supposed to take over the business, cousin, that could be why.”

“Meh,” Damien shrugged. “He knew by the time he was 10 that I was never going to do that. What’s Harry’s birthdate?”

Charles blinked, nearly getting whiplash from the shift in conversation. “July 31st, I think. Let me go ask him to double-check.”

“Take your time, I hafta piss.” Damien threw off his headset and left his desk. Charles got a glimpse of his boxer clad legs and groaned. Of course, Damien wasn’t wearing any pants.

Brushing it off, since it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen that before, Charles went to the top of the stairs and hollered for Harry. The boy came to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him curious.

“Yes, s--.. Uhm… dad?” How precious, even from there Charles could see how Harry’s ears pinked at the word. For his own part, Charles felt a rush of affection for the boy and smiled.

“When exactly was your birthday? I apologize, I wanted to double-check, and Damien needs it for the papers.”

“Oh,” since the Birth Certificate they had made was done to match Blaine’s, the date wasn’t there. “July 31st.”

“That’s what I thought. Thank you.” Charles turned to leave, and so did Harry, but he stopped and went back. “What is Pam making for dinner?”

Harry hesitated then turned back to look up the stairs. “Spinach and Artichoke chicken. And she let me make pea salad.” Seeing the question in Charles' eyes, Harry explained. “It’s something I used to make for my relatives a lot. I’m not a huge fan of cooking, but I’m a pretty decent hand at it after all these years. This was one of my cousin's favorites.”

He offered a smile at his soon-to-be new son and declared, “I’m looking forward to trying it.”

Harry gave him a smile in return, though much shyer than his own, and they both returned to their respective rooms.

Damien was already back at his computer when Charles sat down. “I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“Harry was raised by an aunt and uncle. Even I know the best lie is one with truth in it. He also had a cousin.”

Damien stopped typing… and then got a maniacal gleam in his eyes, leaning close to the screen. The speed of his typing seemed to double for a second. “That is actually way better than what I had planned. Plus I don’t have to call in a favor.”

“That’s… good. I was worried about the favors I would have to call in for this as well.”

His cousin laughed at that, leaning back after changing the things he had already started to better fit this new information. “Did you get his birthday?”

“Oh. Yes, I was right, the 31st of July. The year should be the same as Blaine, they appear to be the same age.”

“Appear?”

“Harry was actually born in 1980.”

Damien stopped, the mechanical clacking on his keyboard silenced. “Really? So he’s really 29?”

“No, spaz, I just said that he looks the same age as Blaine.”

There was a long pause. Charles could just make out the fact that Damien was merely blinking at the camera. “Huh, crazy. Time moves differently in different dimensions.” The statement was said in a slightly awed voice before the hacker shrugged it off and went back to work.

Another moment of silence passed them. Charles spent the time going over one of the cases he’d brought home with him.

Eventually, many keyboard clicks later, Damien spoke up again. “You ever heard of Strangleburgen?”

“What?”

“Strangleburgen, ever heard of it?”

“No… Can’t say that I have.”

“Good, that’s where Harry’s from now. It’s a relatively small town that was bought and destroyed to make room for the expansion of the A44 in Wales. I can make his school records from there since it doesn’t exist anymore. What grade should he be in?”

“That… Is another good question.”

Damien sighed explosively.

“Well, Harry did tell us that he hasn’t been in normal school since he was 11… If he’s going to be turning 15 like Blaine, he could be a sophomore or a freshman next year.”

“Sophomore?”

Charles thought for a second, trying to remember the equivalent, but Damien beat him to it.

“Ah, he should have just passed his GCSEs. Well, while he’s here I’ll get him to do some tests and input his grades after that. I’ll send you the transcripts so you can enroll him in school properly. If he passes the GCSE, he’ll join dear Blainey-boo as a sophomore. If not, we shove him into a lower grade.”

Charles stared at his cousin for a moment then declared, “That’s very smart.”

“I am a genius.” The smirk on Damien’s face ruined any shred of modesty that statement could have held and Charles laughed at his cousin.

… … …

It took the pair nearly another hour to finish settling things. Mostly because Charles got caught up on case details, answering any random questions Damien may have had.

They settled with an ‘I will email you once I know how Harry will get to England.’ and that was that.

Much too late for dinner, Charles apologized to his family as he took his seat.

“It’s all done? I have a twin?” Blaine asked, holding the main dish out for his dad to serve himself.

“Damien and I have a very good plan in place, but no, Blaine, you do not have a twin.”

Blaine pouted and Harry felt a wave of uncertainty. “If I’m not his twin, then what am I?”

“Technically you would be his cousin of some degree. Closer to my generation than his, though.” Charles reached out for the pea salad Harry had made, giving himself a nice big scoop. “Damien would be your older brother.”

The statement puzzled everyone and Charles took a moment to explain Damien’s plan, affairs and all. How exactly ‘Uncle Orman’ was ‘Uncle Orman’ was left out for now. Half the time Charles couldn’t even figure it out.

When Charles was finished, he returned to his meal and took a few large bites. Having food in front of him always helped to remind him exactly how hungry he was.

“So…” Harry spoke first, still deep in thought, “Instead of Blaine being my brother, Damien would be my brother?”

“Technically,” mumbled Charles, stopping so he could swallow and speak in a not rude way. “Technically, they both would be your brothers. We would be adopting you. Just, on paper, Damien would be blood-related to you.”

Blaine was pouting, definitely, but hearing that Harry would still become his brother brought a smile to his face. “It will be fun not to be the youngest anymore. You’d be getting so many brothers, Harry. Me, Coop, Uncle Damien, and Uncle Reggy too!”

“Uncle Reggy?” asked Harry, immediately thinking of Sirius’ brother Regulus. What were the chances?

Pam explained since Charles' mouth was full again. “Reginald White, Damien’s younger brother. He took over the White family business since Damien wasn’t going to.” She scoffed and looked away, unable to hide her feelings towards the hacker.

“That’s nuts,” muttered Harry with a shake of his head. “My godfather, Sirius, who Damien looks exactly like, had a younger brother named Regulus, but the few times I got Sirius to talk about his family, he always called his brother Reggy.”

“That’s an interesting coincidence,” offered Charles. “I wonder how many of them there will be.”

“Knowing my luck, a ton.” Harry’s voice was deadpan, but almost melancholy at the same time. The Andersons chuckled softly though and Harry quirked a tiny smile.

Conversation turned elsewhere for a few minutes before Pam decided to start cleaning up. Harry immediately jumped in to help. She called him a ‘Sweet Boy’ and allowed it. Blaine, feeling slightly jealous, jumped in to help as well.

After everything was cleaned up, the family went to the Den. Harry pulled out his mokeskin pouch and started to dig for a book while Blaine settled in front of the TV. Charles, once more, suggested that Blaine study but the teen brushed it off once more. He’d just been beaten up, didn’t he deserve a little vacation? Charles let it drop.

An hour later, Charles remembered something. “Harry. Is there any way your magic can get you all the way to England? I know you said before that you didn’t think it could but… If Damien found you there, like our story will say, you have to be. Well…”

“I have to be there, yeah,” Harry finished the sentence, closing the Occlumency book that had, indeed, been in his pouch around his finger to mark his spot. “I’m really not sure. Everything my friend Hermione always said about Apparition suggested that long distances were next to impossible.

“However, I know yesterday I jumped all around the States several times looking for different magical hubs here that I knew about. I wasn’t even that tired when I got back here,” Harry tapped his book against his knee and then shrugged. “Maybe it’s all just about power.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, You-know-who, who I defeated before I fell through the mirror, he was the strongest Dark Lord that had been seen in my world since Grindelwald, who… well. Think Magical Hitler.”

The Andersons, since Blaine and Pam started to listen to the conversation despite watching the TV, went wide-eyed.

“Yeah, exactly,” confirmed Harry. “Anyway, since he was so strong, I… well. I was his equal, right? So I have a lot of power too. I wouldn’t want to actually try Apparating all the way to England, but maybe I could map a series of several long-distance Apparations?” Drifting off into thought, Harry continued to tap the book on his leg.

“How far do you think you could … what did you, apparate?”

“Apparate.” He made sure to emphasize that long A.

“Right, that means teleport?” Charles leaned forward onto a fist.

“Yeah.”

“So how far could you teleport?”

Harry looked up to the ceiling as he thought about this. “Possibly… I don’t know, maybe a thousand kilometers?”

Charles sat back in shock at that number, but Blaine glanced between his dad and his soon-to-be-brother. “How far is that in miles?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” claimed Harry. Then he shot a smirk at Blaine. “Why not ask that fancy little phone of yours?”

Blaine scowled, but then did just that. Harry laughed at the result, especially once Blaine reacted to the number. “If that’s not long-distance, what to you would be!?”

“I don’t know, maybe Apparating all the way from Hogwarts to Durmstrag?”

No one understood that reference and it took Harry to moment to realize that. “Oh, I mean. Uh.” He squinted an eye in thought. “Scotland to… erg… I think Durmstrag was in Bulgaria?”

Blaine’s fingers flew on his Blackberry’s keyboard as he looked up that distance and finally fell back against the sofa. Pam looked over at the device and fluttered her eyelids in surprise. “Wow, that would be far, dear.”

“Yeah. But, you know. I think if I was well-rested enough, I could probably do it.” Harry paused, then shrugged. “Maybe. The two schools have enough magic that that could probably help me… But I really don’t know.”

Charles finally came back into the conversation. “I think the faster we can get you to England, the better. Then we can get everything settled with getting you school records and everything.” He looked at Pam for a moment then back to Harry. “I was hoping we could enter you into Dalton next year with Blaine.”

“Really!?” Blaine sat up in shock while Harry asked, “What is Dalton?”

“Yes, Blaine, really. Dalton is a private academy here for boys. It’s a boarding school actually, so it wouldn’t be too dissimilar to what you were doing at Hogwarts, however, we would be bringing you home every weekend or so.”

“I’d miss you too much,” Pam confessed easily, smiling at Blaine and even offering one to Harry.

The familial love was adorable to see and Harry felt warm and fuzzy feeling it directed towards him. It was different from when Mrs. Weasley would smile at him that like because there was no Ron here to make her act that way, no part of him being a savior. Pam, and Charles, and Blaine… they owed him nothing and yet were offering him everything he ever wanted: a family.

“Thank you… really, honestly, thank you so much.” Harry took a careful breath and then turned to look at Charles. “I’d be honored to go to Dalton… that is assuming I can get in.”

“Ah, yes, that will be a problem. Like I mentioned before, Damien will arrange for you to take some tests…”

“GCSEs, right?”

“Yes.”

Harry groaned.

“Don’t worry Harry, I can help you study!” offered Blaine.

Charles interrupted, “Oh, so you’ll help him study but you won’t do your own?”

Blaine just smiled sheepishly and raised his hands in a mixture of a shrug and surrender. Everyone else in the room laughed at him.

“While we try to figure out how to get Harry to England, that actually would be a great idea, thank you, Blaine. Maybe you two could start planning that tomorrow and mix it with some geography lessons, hmm?” suggested Charles, rising up to his feet. “I want to check my email before I head off to bed. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“G’nite, sir,” Harry offered first, opening his book again.

Pam got to her feet and gave Charles a hug, whispering her own ‘Good night, dear’ to him. Blaine was the last to offer his, earning a hair ruffle in response.

… … …

The next day, Harry and Blaine did as Charles suggested after they’d ate breakfast. There were several books spread out around the pair in the den, as well as Blaine’s laptop and a few printed out copies of maps that Blaine had made for them.

With all of these resources, including the strange, huge, random books that Harry could vaguely remember Hermione giving him to put in his pouch after their time in Grimmauld place, they believed they had a plan of attack.

“I think you should do some tests to see if you can do any of these long-distance jumps,” Blaine reasoned, gnawing on the end of his pencil as he looked at the eight different stops on their list. “Some of these are really big and I’m worried.”

“Me too. I’ve never done a jump across the ocean like this before…” They had decided to call it jumping instead of apparating because, well. Harry couldn’t remember, but Blaine had offered a very good argument and Harry couldn’t refute him. Probably because Blaine was the son of a lawyer. At least that was Harry’s excuse.

Anyway.

“So, practice?” Blaine repeated and Harry nodded.

“How should I do that?”

“I have no idea, I’m not magic.”

Harry made a face. “You’re no help.”

Blaine laughed. “What if you just went to New York since you went there before, and then just tried to go the middle of the US?” He grabbed one of the printed maps of the USA and pulled it closed. “Here,” he poked a finger, “Iowa is in the middle.”

Taking a closer look, Harry shook his head. “I need coordinates, remember? But there used to be a magical center in Chicago, I checked it out when I was jumping all around the country.” Harry tapped his finger on Chicago--or close to it. Kind of. It was a little closer to Kentucky, but Harry didn’t know his geography well yet.

“That could work,” mused Blaine, licking at still healing lip and jealous of Harry’s mostly healed face. His doppelganger just had slight bruising left around his eye. “So just jump to and from New York and Chicago a few times.”

“I can do that,” Harry moved to stand up. He hesitated, pulling his wand out. “Want me to get anything while I’m there? May as well make use of the trip.”

Blaine’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to try comparing Chicago Pizza to New York pizza.”

Harry couldn’t stop the half-grin from forming and he nodded. “I need money though. I have absolutely nothing. Possibly a few galleons in my pouch, but they won’t help me.”

“What’s a galleon?” Blaine asked as he shot to his feet, running to the stairs. Harry followed.

“Wizard money.”

“... I could have guessed that,” responded the teen before running upstairs for his wallet. A moment there, he returned and money exchanged hands.

Harry hesitated again, money deep in the pocket of the jeans Blaine had offered him. They’d had a bit of a disagreement over the shirt that morning since Blaine had wanted to dress Harry in a bow tie of all things, but Blaine finally capitulated and Harry was dressed relatively normally for him: t-shirt and long sleeve over top. “Okay. Wait. Shoes.” He flicked his wand and pulled them on. “Okay, now. Now I’m going. I’ll be gone for about an hour and try to return in time for lunch. Okay?”

“You just said okay like a billion times, Harry. Go. I’ll tell Mom.”

“... Okay.” And Harry disappeared.

… … …

Muggle cities were confusing. After he had jumped back and forth between the two five times, he decided it was in his best interest to walk around a bit. He felt slightly winded, but not overly tired. Kind of like he’d just had a vigorous game of Quidditch or something.

Hands stuffed deep inside his pockets, Harry looked up at the tall buildings and just thought for a moment.

This was really a thing. This was a thing and this was going to work. Even though he was stuck here in this world without magic, he was going to get a family--a family that actually wanted him. And gave him money to just buy pizza to compare the flavors from two cities.

Harry wasn’t sure what the difference would be. Pizza was just pizza, right? Though he had always wanted to try it in general… Dudley seemed to inhale it without chewing… Like a duck or something.

Kind of terrifying.

Having absolutely no idea where to go, Harry decided to approach a random street vendor. He bought a hot dog from the man and then made his request: Chicago style pizza.

A ten-minute walk later had him outside of a delicious smelling restaurant. The hot dog was long gone, so he walked inside and ordered, “What you would recommend. I’ve never had it before, and I’m sharing with my brother.”

Harry smiled when he said that. Having a brother--four now, technically--was going to be fun.

Once Harry had the pizza he disappeared into an alley and tapped it with his wand, placing a stasis spell over it. Who would have thought that Potions class would come in handy, eh? Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he shoved the pizza box into his pouch, hoping it would be okay, and then disappeared to New York.

Just to be certain, Harry jumped back and forth between the cities until he got winded again. He made it to seven this time. Maybe Blaine had a point. Practice may get him all the way to England.

Repeating the process in New York to find pizza, Harry wandered down the street, munching on a New York hot dog, which he decided was superior to the one he’d had in Chicago, he stopped at his second pizza place in the hour and went inside.

A similar story, which wasn’t even a lie, was given to the shop owner and soon Harry was out the door with another pizza. He didn’t bother with the stasis spell this time. Just found an alley and jumped back to the room he was staying in.

After a quick tempus spell, Harry realized he’d been gone for closer to two hours and rushed out of the room, after kicking off his shoes, and ran downstairs. “Sorry!!” he shouted before he even saw anyone.

“Harry!? Is that you?” Pam’s head poked around from the kitchen and Harry saw her deflate with relief. “You had us worried. Blaine said it would just be an hour.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” Harry offered the box of pizza out to her and she grasped it with one hand, the other reaching out to touch his cheek.

“It’s all right,” she said, giving his cheek a little pat. “We’ll get you a cell phone eventually and you can always send a message. It will have to wait until after you come back from England, though…”

Harry blinked a few times, unsure how to respond to that. So he didn’t.

Pam noticed his lack of a reaction and forced a smile. “Right, so Blaine said you brought us pizza for lunch. Two pizzas, but I only see one?”

“OH RIGHT!” Harry tugged the pouch from around his neck off and plunged his arm in. It was a sight Pam was unsure she’d ever get used to. Soon out came another box of pizza. “I just asked them to give me their recommendation. I’ve never had pizza before, so I didn’t know what to order.”

“Never had pizza!?” Blaine nearly shrieked, coming in from the den. “That’s ridiculous, how could you have never had pizza before!?”

“Uhh…” Harry dithered, shifting uncomfortably. “... Well… I can try some now, right?”

“That’s right!” Blaine grabbed the second pizza from Harry and hooked his arm. “Let’s eat in the den, way more fun. Plus you can tell me how it went.”

“Blaine, keep the pizzas in the kitchen.”

“But, mommmmmmm….”

“No buts.”

“Awww, man….” Blaine let go of Harry and stomped off to the kitchen. The whole interaction just made Harry laugh.

… … …

By the time Charles had returned home from a normal day at the office, Harry was able to jump clear across the entire United States. However, he could only do it once before needing to rest and eat. He had splinched off half of all of his fingernails too, which hurt like the dickens. A healing potion took care of the pain, though it would take time for them to grow back.

Could have been worse.

(Like the guy in LA who found the pile of nails on the beach. Gross.)

At least he knew he could do it. Nearly 4000 kilometers in one single jump.

It was fucking nuts.

Harry felt almost too powerful.

If he could do that much, however, going across the ocean in smaller jumps should be fine.

Charles was both impressed and worried when they relayed the information to him. He sat there, holding onto one of Harry’s hands to look at his fingers. “We should probably wrap these…”

“Sir?” Harry asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Your fingers. They’re red and raw. We should cover them with some bandages.”

“Oh! Yes, probably. I think I have some murtlap essence in my pouch… Hermione always made sure I had some of that on me, at all times.” With his free hand, Harry reached into his pouch.

“What does that do?” Charles made eye contact with Pam and nodded to her. “Could you get us the first aid kit dear?”

“Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think to do that earlier,” replied Pam as she bustled off.

“It helps cuts and abrasions. I used it before in my fifth year.”

“Ah, so it’s like first aid cream.” Charles nodded in understanding, taking the bottle from Harry once he had it removed. He looked over the bottle and shrugged, then set it aside.

Harry watched Charles and tried to tug at his hand, but the man had a firm grip. “I. em... I can do it myself.”

“Nonsense, let me. Thank you, dear,” Charles took the first aid kit from Pam who dropped a kiss onto Harry’s head. The teen looked utterly bewildered for a moment and Charles nearly wished he had a camera to take a picture of that.

The next fifteen minutes were spent in a weird, for Harry, and yet soothing, also Harry, silence as Charles carefully applied the Murtlap essence to Harry’s fingers and then wrapped them in bandaids.

Once he was complete, Harry flexed his fingers, looking at all of his covered fingertips. “This feels weird.”

Charles laughed and nodded, closing Harry’s potion and offering it back to the teen. Harry carefully put it back into his pouch.

“So tell me again about your path to England?”

“I’ll do it!” Blaine jumped in, skidding to the floor to sit next to Harry’s chair, looking up to his dad from his new position. “So first Harry will go to New York. From there, he’ll go to Prince Edward’s Island.”

“There was a magical community there, so I have the coordinations. It should be easy to reach.” Harry added and then shut up so Blaine could continue.

“From there, he’ll go to St. Johns, in Newfoundland.” Anticipating Harry’s interruption, Blaine added, “It’s another magical location.”

“All right. Where to next?” prompted Charles.

“Torngat Mountain National Park. Harry wanted to go all the way to Greenland, the capital, which is another magical location--”

“Not Nuuk, there was some village deeper in the mountains,” interrupted Harry, poking at Blaine’s shoulder and wincing at the pain in his finger.

“Whatever, same diff. Anyway, I said that was way too far, what if he lost a leg, or missed and fell into the ocean, it’s the Arctic Circle up there, he could die! So I suggested the Forest. I found pictures and the longitude and latitude. Harry thinks that should be enough to get him there.”

“From there I’ll go to Greenland,” Harry picked up from where Blaine left off. “And then from there to Iceland. Reykjavik, specifically.”

“Which I’m jealous about,” Blaine groused and Charles laughed.

“Then I’ll head to the area of Scotland where Hogwarts is. We looked up the coordinates, and it’s just an empty forest, so I should be fine.” Harry shrugged casually. “From there, it’s an easy jump to London. You just have to tell me where to meet Damien.”

“Sounds like you two had an eventful afternoon,” Charles leaned back in his chair. He felt inexplicably proud of these two boys.

“We did. Well, Harry did. He got to see so much today!”

“I did. I ate a ton too, but I still feel hungry,” Harry looked down at his fingers and pouted. “I wanted to make something for you all tonight to say thanks… Pam already said I could…”

“Aww, Harry-poo,” Blaine pat the slightly younger teen’s knee. “I can help.”

Harry mouthed ‘Harry-poo’ and shook his head at Blaine. “No, Pam said you burn water.”

“I resent that, I do not burn water, you can’t burn water.” At Harry’s look, Blaine tacked on, “Without magic. Which I don’t have.” When Harry shot him another look, Blaine threw his arms up. “Oh come on, Harry. Let me be your hands since yours aren’t working.”

Grumbling, Harry rose to his feet. “Only if your mom supervises you too.” Then he huffed off to the kitchen and Blaine followed like a pouting puppy.

… … …

Dinner was great and afterward, Harry was all ready to try jumping across the USA again, but Charles put his foot down.

No more attempts for the day. And when Harry finally left to go to England, he would pack plenty of food, water, warm clothes (because fucking Greenland) and would take plenty of breaks. They were in absolutely no hurry and they didn’t need to have anything like his nails happen again.

Over the following week, Harry continued to practice his long-distance apparation to the point where he felt super confident that he would be able to make the trip all the way to England.

They prepared several things for Harry’s journey, including anything he may need for however long he may wind up in Greenland and Iceland respectively. They made have had their names swapped, but they were both still super cold, what with being in or near the Arctic circle and what not.

Instead of trying to stretch Harry’s pouch to the limit, they got Harry a hiking backpack that he would be able to attach a sleeping bag to, in case he needed it. There were a lot of other camping items that he received as well. They weren’t sure if Harry would be able to do the trip in a day or two, or if it would take a week.

The last few things that Harry got were some money, and maps of London, and finally a picture of the guest room at Damien’s house.

With the big giant parka on, but open, and the backpack on his back, Harry stood in the den of the Anderson’s home. It was kind of awkward to say goodbye, it wasn’t something he was ever any good at, but thankfully the rest of them were a lot better at it than him.

“Oh, please, don’t push yourself too much,” Pam was saying into Harry’s ear as she hugged him for all he was worth. It was kind of like hugging a plushie, with the big coat and layers that he was wearing. At the moment, Harry was very warm but was making use of cooling charms--something he’d probably switch for warming charms once he got to Newfoundland.

“I won’t.”

“And take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“And don’t let anyone see you.”

“I’ll try not too.”

“Oh, goodness…!” Pam gave him another big hug after he said that and Charles had to pry her off. Blaine was in the background, laughing at Harry’s uncomfortable face.

“Well,” Harry shuffled in place, “I’m going to go now…”

“Take care, Harry,” Charles said, holding his wife.

Harry made awkward, for him, eye contact with everyone and then nodded before he disappeared without a sound. All that practice was good for something.