Chapter Text
Adrian Potter is thirteen years old when he learns the truth.
His ears are ringing. At first, Adrian assumes it’s an aftereffect of the deafening screech with which the Hogwarts’ Express has come to an unexpected standstill. Or perhaps an echo of the worried shouts and questions that followed the unexpected stop, yells of shock and surprise but not fear, not terror, not like this—
It’s cold.
So cold it feels like the very air surrounds Adrian, weighs down on him like a thick winter coat, but lacking its comforting warmth. It freezes Adrian in place, keeps him still, makes him feel small and meaningless. Insignificant.
He doesn’t notice he’s trembling until his teeth clatter uncomfortably against each other. Even then Adrian doesn’t know how to make them stop.
Someone is talking, too fast to be anyone other than Hermione, but Adrian isn’t listening. Doesn’t process the words. The door to their compartment swings open slowly, so very slowly that Harry would probably make a quip about evil’s endless capacity for drama if he were here, and Adrian doesn’t move and it’s so loud.
“No!”
Dementors, Adrian realizes distantly. And slower, less sure: There’s not supposed to be any dementors on the train.
But the thought is a detached one, knowledge that slips through his fingers before he gets a proper hold of it and there’s an exhale of too cold air that prickles uncomfortably against Adrian’s skin, full of rattling chains, abandoned hallways and desolate eyes.
“Not my children! Please! Please, take me instead!”
Perhaps it’s a trick of light — though what light is there that these creatures, vast and empty and so very hungry, haven’t consumed already? — but Adrian blinks and for an endless moment he could swear the shadows writhe underneath the dementor’s hood. As though their desperate greed for something they will never receive, that will never fully sate their hunger has been given physical form.
The dementor moves fast. Or maybe Adrian loses track of time there, just for a moment. That’s a real possibility.
Above his head, barely visible in the shuttered light, a mobile spins slowly round and round.
Either way, when Adrian blinks the shadowed creature is closer than he expects. Too close. Close enough that Adrian can feel the tattered fabric of its coat brushing against his cold hands, the touch disconcertingly gentle and condemning all at once.
“Step aside, silly girl.”
Adrian isn’t afraid.
Some distant part of him knows he should be but it’s hard to remember, hard to hold on to that awareness when everything feels so far away. When he isn’t happy, isn’t despairing and he isn’t afraid. Fear is far below him and on a fundamental level Adrian knows what he’s always known, a certainty so deeply embedded into his subconsciousness even he forgets it’s there: He is safe. He is protected. Nothing can touch them.
The dementor leans in, hood sliding back as the darkness beneath uncurls. But Adrian doesn’t care, doesn’t even notice.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Bright green light is the only thing he sees.
When Adrian opens his eyes, he’s laid out on one of the benches of their compartment, covered in his best friends’ cloaks. He shivers despite the uncomfortable warmth surrounding him, feels sweaty and clammy at once. It’s too hot and too cramped and Adrian battles down the urge to kick the weights surrounding him off. He’s too tired to put up much of a fight anyway, though that does little to settle the restless energy skittering along his limbs like disoriented ants.
His head is resting in Hermione’s lap. Adrian feels her hands shaking where they carefully card through his hair and suppresses a wince at the thought that he’s once again gotten himself and his friends mixed up in some sort of trouble. Serious trouble too what with him passing out and all. Adrian slowly turns his head to the left, though not fast enough to miss the tremulous edge to Hermione’s smile. Ron’s seated on the opposite bench, elbows on his knees, watching Adrian attentively. As always less prone to seeking physical reassurance — Adrian blames growing up with six rowdy brothers, all of which he likes but prefers to observe from a healthy distance — though there’s no hiding the worry in his blue eyes, the sickly paleness that makes his freckles stand out like that time Seamus polka-dotted his face with irreversible ink while Ron was sleeping.
“How are you feeling, Adrian?” Remus Lupin asks kindly, a steady presence like always. He’s sitting on the same bench as Ron, though not too close, as always hyper-aware of keeping a chosen distance up between himself and the world.
[Adrian blames the Ministry’s well-established idiocy for that. And the people who buy it and believe it. Which there are more of than Adrian’s comfortable with. He hates to agree with Harry in this matter because his brother does not need further encouragement for his steadily developing misanthropy thank you very much, but the unfortunate truth is that most people are stupid. And take their stupidity out on other people, which is the real problem.]
There’s a moment of disconnect as Adrian struggles to put the people around him into the same place when he’s pretty sure they’ve never met. Abstractly, he knows that Remus has taken the defense position at Hogwarts this year.
[It would’ve been hard to miss what with how many arguments his parents and Sirius had over dinner during the last few weeks. Neither Dad nor Mom have said anything outright but Adrian knows that the timing is no coincidence. Remus loves teaching, always has. He’d been a great tutor back when Adrian and Harry learned how to read and spell. But. There’s supposed to be a curse on the defense position that no one — especially not Remus — should take lightly and there’s really only one reason for the grown-ups to suddenly change their minds.
And that’s Peter Pettigrew. The man who has somehow, impossibly, managed to escape from Azkaban.
Although come to think of it, the teeny tiny incident with the basilisk last year probably didn’t help either. Mom was outraged. Adrian shudders at the memory. That had been a bad day to be Headmaster Dumbledore. A very bad day indeed.]
The point is, Adrian has known Remus would be at Hogwarts this year, but he hasn’t considered what that means. That there might actually be an adult around who might actually listen and help and be useful.
Which, to be fair, Snape isn’t too bad when he’s not tearing them a new one for ruining his precious potion ingredients. And by 'not too bad' Adrian means hasn’t tried to outright attack, murder or obliviate Adrian or anyone he cares about. Which may be a low standard, but it’s a low standard teachers at Hogwarts regularly fail. Snape’s an exception, probably because he’s sort of friends with Mom. Doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s an unpleasant bastard most of the time though.
The downside to having an adult at Hogwarts who’s both competent and cares about Adrian’s welfare is that there’s a competent adult at Hogwarts who cares about his welfare.
Case in point, Adrian musters up a weak smile in response to Remus’ concerned question that probably doesn’t fool anyone but it’s the best he can manage right now. A verbal response is out of question. Remus is too good at spotting lies, he and Harry have learned that the hard way. Besides Adrian’s never been much of a liar to begin with. He’s always left the excuses up to Harry, his brother’s much better at that part.
Thankfully Remus accepts the non-response and hands him a piece of chocolate that’s supposed to help with the aftereffects of exposure to a dementor. Hermione helps him sit up and Adrian allows himself to lose track of the conversation around him for a bit, focuses on the sweet taste of the chocolate on his tongue and warmth of Ron’s cloak around his shoulders.
There’s a queasy feeling in Adrian's stomach that has nothing to do with almost losing his soul to a monster and everything to do with what he’s seen. What part of him has grasped instinctively, while his conscious mind still struggles to puzzle out just what that realization is.
Then the door to their compartment is thrown open because Draco Malfoy is more dramatic than most full-blooded Blacks and Adrian has a hard time not rolling his eyes at the way Crabbe and Goyle, his usual posse, crack their knuckles in a way that would be much more threatening if they knew how to back their size up with actual spells.
On any other day, Adrian would have no trouble starting the fight Malfoy’s so clearly looking for. He, Ron and Hermione can more than handle themselves against the Slytherin trio — and if Malfoy ever crosses a line, like he did that one time when he called Hermione a mudblood, a mistake he hasn’t repeated since — well. Adrian has an insider in the snake pit and contrary to popular belief he’s not ashamed to use that to his advantage. But today Adrian is tired and numb and can’t bring himself to care about the spoiled brat’s cruel words, can’t even pretend. The insults slide off him like rain off an oilskin because he’d have to pay attention to actually feel their impact.
Neither Hermione nor Ron suffer from the same exhaustion, but Adrian doesn’t bother to keep track of the argument. His attention is instinctively drawn to the black-haired, green-eyed boy that stands outside their compartment door, half-hidden by Crabbe’s bulk.
Harry hasn’t joined in the taunting. Nor does he make a move to pull Malfoy back. Not that any of this surprises Adrian. Harry rarely gets involved in their spats. He’s never liked fights. Likes them even less when they don’t involve him and others insist on dragging him into their arguments all the same.
["How are they gonna learn to stand up for themselves if you fight their battles for them?"]
And well, Adrian sort of gets it. It puts Harry in a difficult position when his brother antagonizes his dorm mates. Talk about a lose-lose scenario. Besides it’s not like it’s Harry’s job to control his fellow Slytherins, no matter how stupid they’re being. Nor is it his fault that most of them are inbred, prejudiced purebloods who wouldn’t recognize hypocrisy if it held them at wand-point.
That doesn’t mean it’s not hard to swallow his neutral stance every now and then. Because sure, Harry isn’t on Malfoy’s side but he’s not on Adrian’s side either. And Adrian knows he’s being silly, that they’re just kids and these are just meaningless squabbles that won’t matter in the real world, knows Harry will always stand by his side when it matters, but—
Sometimes he wishes things could’ve been different, is all.
Harry’s still standing in the doorway, watching with sharp eyes. He doesn’t pay any more attention to the brewing fight than Adrian does, is completely focused on Adrian and part of Adrian relaxes underneath that familiar gaze that scans him from head to toe, takes note of every crease in Adrian’s clothes, every nervous tick he’s trying to suppress.
It’s hard to tell what Harry’s thinking — he’s good at locking Adrian out when it pleases him, better than Adrian will probably ever be because he can never bring himself to let go completely — but it’s clear he’s not happy. With a jolt of worry Adrian wonders if the dementors had the same intense effect on Harry. If he has passed out too, has been helpless surrounded by people Adrian doesn’t trust. But no. Malfoy’s been going on and on about Adrian’s weakness since he’s shoved his pointed face through the door, he wouldn’t have done that if Harry had reacted in the same way.
Adrian has to believe that. If only so he doesn’t make a scene is brother won’t appreciate.
Then Harry turns on his heels. The sudden movement jerks Adrian out of his own contemplations. He opens his mouth, wants to call out but swallows the words down before they can take shape in the back of his throat. He has no wish to drag Harry into the confrontation that's escalating at this very moment and that Adrian should really start paying attention to.
Not to mention they still aren’t on speaking terms, so even if Adrian succeeded in calling his brother back, chances are Harry would make him regret it. He’s — and Adrian says that with all the love he can possibly muster — a vindictive little shit when the mood strikes him. It's best to let him cool off until he's ready to approach Adrian on his own terms.
[Mom insists it’s Uncle Sirius’ bad influence on him. Everyone lets her get away with it, mostly because no one is suicidal enough to point out that Mom on her bad days is more terrifying than Dad and Sirius combined. It’s best not to acknowledge where Harry’s inspiration obviously stems from, lest one draws both of their wrath.]
Adrian shudders. Let’s the horror he feels at that terrifying image drown out the pained pang at the thought that not even dementors are apparently enough to fully bridge the distance that’s been growing between them that Adrian doesn’t know how to bridge.
His brother disappears in the crowd of agitated students just as Ron throws himself at Malfoy with a furious shout. Adrian wishes the heavy weight lodged somewhere below his sternum would disappear with him.
Adrian would like to say he didn’t know immediately. And maybe that would even be the truth. But then there are days where he thinks that maybe there’s a part of him that has always known, has taken the truth and hidden it deep inside his mind, in the darkest corner he could find with nothing but dust and spiderwebs to keep it company — and maybe there’s some truth in that as well.
See, Adrian was eight years old the first time his parents sat him and his brother down and explained why they were special. Explained that they’d been attacked by a dark wizard when they’d been small and that the dark wizard had cursed Adrian with a terrible curse that should’ve killed him, except just like in the fairytales Adrian loves, the curse rebound and hit the dark wizard instead.
And because Adrian was eight and much more concerned with finishing this conversation quickly so he and Harry can go out flying before dinner, because that story glossed over so many tragedies children aren’t meant to carry and none of it really meant anything to him, Adrian accepted it without question and only a little wonder.
The only thing that didn’t make sense to him, won’t ever make sense in Adrian’s opinion, is everyone’s obsession with his scar when it’s actually Harry’s that looks really wicked. Even that is easily brushed aside in the face of Quidditch.
But that first time isn’t the last time either Adrian nor Harry hear that story. Far from it. And the more renditions Adrian hears, the older he grows, the more often people mistake him for Harry and the other way around, the more he wonders.
[There were four people in the room that night. But one’s dead, one was unconscious and two were toddlers and so how does everyone know?]
Still. While Adrian’s ill-fated encounter with a dementor drags long forgotten memories to the forefront of his mind, that doesn’t mean he immediately understands what they mean. He’s sort of busy not getting his soul sucked out, not-fighting with his brother and kicking Malfoy out of his compartment before Ron and Hermione bond over his murder.
He doesn’t forget — Adrian might be the Boy-Who-Lived but contrary to what the Hogwarts’ rumor mill claims, near death experiences are not a daily self-care ritual of his what the hell, Dean, stop laughing, Harry — but neither does Adrian spend too much time thinking of it.
If those faint memories inspire anything, it’s a vague sort of curiosity regarding the fact that crazy, insane, megalomanic Voldemort tried to spare his muggleborn mum. Adrian has always assumed that Voldemort literally stormed their home, blasted the doors of the hinges and everything and that his parents’ were knocked out before they so much as had a chance to reach for their wands.
Not that Adrian’s complaining about the outcome. It's more that if he was determined to eradicate a family, he wouldn’t work his way up from youngest to oldest. Then again, Voldemort was by all reports completely off his rocker. Maybe he was anal about that kind of thing. Or wanted to enact some sort of black magic ritual that demands sacrifices in a particular order. He should ask Harry if there is such a thing once Harry forgives him for the little incident with his broom. [Or gets his revenge, which seems more likely, Harry isn't the forgiving sort.] Granted, Harry probably won’t know either — and if he does, Adrian needs to have a conversation about age-and-morally-appropriate extracurricular research projects that he’d really like to avoid because after all the trouble he’s gotten into with Ron and Hermione over the last two years there’s no way Harry would accept that kind of hypocrisy lying down — but Harry can ask one of the sixth or seventh year students.
Adrian can’t. Not without risking having to read about his supposed exploits into dark magic in the Daily Prophet the next day. Sometimes, most times, it sucks to be the Boy-Who-Lived.
So it’s not that Adrian forgets. He just… fails to connect the dots. Doesn’t realize he’s staring at an answer he’s been searching for years because the riddle is something he’s put into the 'unsolvable' file ages ago and hasn't revisited since.
Until his first Quidditch match. Until the cold creeps in, unnoticed under the cover the storm provides. Until Adrian clings tighter and tighter to his broom, with no clear idea why he feels so tense. Until the screams in his ears drown out the howling wind.
Adrian —
he’s sitting up, one hand clutching the soft wool of His sleepwear, blinking at the loud noises when shhhh, it’s supposed to be sleepy-quiet-time now, squints up at the mobile turning gently over his head and he should be afraid, he should be crying, something is wrong and Mommy is afraid, but His is here and confused and he doesn’t know how to make it better
— blinks.
Adrian wakes up in the hospital wing.
He doesn’t remember letting go of his broom. Which was admittedly a stupid thing to do, considering how high up in the air he was. Harry's never gonna let him forget that. Adrian doesn’t remember the game either, nor the dementors that swarmed the pitch or even his own fall. But Adrian doesn’t have time to worry about that, doesn’t bother apologizing to his concerned teammates or waste his time trying to comfort the inconsolable Oliver Wood over their loss. He barely pays attention to the apologetic Cedric Diggory, who apparently caught the snitch while Adrian was busy passing out.
No. Adrian loves Quidditch but that’s not what’s important right now. Because Adrian remembers.
He sees the scene right before his eyes, sees Mom fall, sees Voldemort raise his hand, sees the killing curse connect and—
And.
The second time Adrian wakes up, he’s still in the hospital wing. It’s early in the morning, thankfully, which means his friends and his brother will still be asleep and won’t be stopping by for at least another two hours.
That gives Adrian time. Time he dearly needs right now. To process. Or stare blankly at the ceiling above his head as though the answers may start to write themselves into the stone if only he looks at them hard enough. But hey, whatever works.
Adrian swallows. This doesn’t have to be a big deal, he reminds himself. Don’t make it into a big deal.
Even if it kinda, sorta, maybe is.
Because Voldemort’s curse didn’t hit Adrian. It hit Harry. Adrian should know, considering he watched it happen and was apparently old enough to remember the event, even if he didn’t do so consciously. Which means. Which means Adrian isn’t the Boy-Who-Lived.
Adrian takes a deep, shuddering breath. Counts up to six. Breathes out again. Forces himself to relax his death grip on the not particularly soft sheets. Breathes in again.
It’s not a big deal. Adrian’s never wanted to be the Boy-Who-Lived anyway and it’s not like it ever mattered to his family or his friends. Who cares about that stupid title? It’s not good for anything except making enemies and getting him in trouble.
Besides it’s not like it’s Adrian’s fault. He certainly didn’t declare himself Voldemort’s vanquisher. He was a baby for Merlin’s sake. He probably slept and cried and did nothing useful. Dad once mentioned that both Adrian and Harry had been brought to Hogwarts that night because their parents hadn’t been willing to risk St. Mungos, not when they weren’t sure about Voldemort’s demise yet. They’d been examined, their injuries treated and because of the different amounts of spell residue lingering around them, Adrian had been declared the Boy-Who-Lived.
Well. Clearly someone, somewhere had screwed up. Majorly. After all, how could the entire Wizarding World pick the wrong twin to hail as their hero? How did that even happen?! How could they just— just—
Adrian doesn’t realize he’s not breathing properly and the world is starting to flicker dangerously in and out of focus until Madam Pomfrey shoves a Calming Draught down his throat. The terrible taste startles him out of the panicked downward spiral his thoughts have taken almost as much as the forced sense of calm at ease nothing to worry about here that follows it, settles in his bloodstream like fuzzy blanket that warms his body from within.
It’s not comfortable, exactly, but Adrian allows the gentle haze to slow his swirling thoughts until their pace doesn’t make him dizzy anymore and breathes through the chaotic maelstrom that’s been let loose in his stomach.
It’s gonna be alright, he tells himself. Curls into a small ball underneath his blanket like he’s still five and squishing himself underneath Harry’s bed to keep his brother safe.
Later, Adrian is gonna track Harry down, tell him the earth-shattering truth he’s discovered and they’re gonna decide what to do next together. Because that’s what they always do and this time won’t be any different. It’s gonna be alright.
Adrian doesn’t track Harry down. Not when Madam Pomfrey releases him from the infirmary — who’s still watching him with suspicious eyes as though all she needs is the slightest excuse to unleash hell in the form of a full-on physical examination on him — and not later, after he’s done with his classes for the day and has ditched his worried friends to wander the castles' seemingly endless hallways alone.
When Adrian meets up with Harry on Saturday in the library like they do every weekend, Adrian doesn’t tell him. He doesn’t ask Harry to meet him in the kitchen or the old classroom on the fifth floor right next to the painting of the three women with the same face and when Adrian finally manages to open his mouth, he blurts out a question about their transfiguration homework instead.
Harry shoots him confused looks but they’ve both got a lot of essays to catch up on and the afternoon goes by quickly, in spite of the unspoken words that Adrian swears he can almost see taking physical shape between them.
Adrian doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell Harry. He hates lying and he’s never kept secrets from Harry before. Fine, there was that incident with the polyjuice last year but that was different. It had been about getting back at Malfoy and maybe learning something useful and Harry hadn’t even been involved until he’d stopped by the Gryffindor table at the next morning and told Adrian that he made for a terrible Goyle. The point is, Adrian’s never kept something serious from Harry before. Especially not when it involves Harry too and he’s got a right to know.
Yet every time Adrian looks his brother in the eyes, he falters. Hesitates. Swallows down words that are sharp enough they should’ve cut his throat open by now. And the ridiculous part is, Adrian doesn’t even understand why this is so hard.
[Except that’s a lie, isn’t it?]
So. Adrian isn’t the Boy-Who-Lived. Late at night, back in his own dorm, with Ron’s familiar snores to his left and Dean’s softer snuffles to his right, Adrian turns the thought over in his head.
He isn’t the Boy-Who-Lived. Even knowing it's true it sounds… weird.
Honestly, it shouldn’t be that big a deal. So he didn’t defeat Voldemort when he was a baby, an event he didn’t even remember until now anyway. Who cares, right?
It’s not like the title ever meant much of anything. It always was just a stupid, over-dramatic name that gives people like Snape one more excuse to mock him than they needed. The title doesn’t define Adrian any more than hundreds of other nicknames people get assigned by the press. [Seriously, journalism must be the most boring profession to exist if that’s the only way their professionals can get their kicks.]
So why can’t Adrian just shrug it off? Why can’t he just not care? It won’t ever matter that it was Harry, will it? Their parents have never treated either of them any different, certainly not for such a stupid reason. Adrian is confident — as in pretty sure, as in trying very hard not to consider any possible alternative — neither Ron nor Hermione would care, it’s not like they befriended him because they thought he was the Boy-Who-Lived.
In fact Hermione can never learn of the turn his thoughts have taken or she’ll cold-conk him with Hogwarts: A History.
It shouldn’t matter and in so many ways it doesn’t but for some stupid, selfish, insecure reason just Adrian feels like— Like.
[It made sense before, is the thing. The way terrible, dangerous things always seemed to happen around Adrian and how he and his friends always managed to pull through in the end. How Professor Quirrell had attacked him and had turned out to be possessed by what was left of Voldemort. How interested the boy inside the diary had been in Adrian. How the odd house elf Dobby had sought him out, tried to protect him and almost killed him instead. Weird things like that just happen to Adrian because he is the Boy-Who-Lived. Because he’s special. Not necessarily in a good way, considering it mostly gets him almost killed and sometimes heavily injured, but it makes sense that he draws positive and negative attention when there’s something obviously different about him that has for inexplicable reasons allowed him to survive the killing curse.
Adrian is the Boy-Who-Lived and often that wasn’t a good thing but at least his crazy life makes sense. Except of course that he isn’t the Boy-Who-Lived and nothing makes sense.]
Adrian feels like the entire world has rearranged itself around him while he's closed his eyes for a moment and now he no longer knows how to navigate it without running into unexpected obstacles and stubbing his toes on every corner. He no longer even knows where he’s supposed to go.
"Adrian, are you sure you’re alright?" Hermione asks in her best hushed library voice that somehow still manages to convey her concern.
Adrian hopes the massive edition of the innocuously named Native and Imported Magical Plants on the British Isles — that Neville swears holds holds detailed background information on wormwood that isn’t included in their class lectures — hides his grimace, though that’s probably too much to ask for.
"I’m fine." Adrian winces the moment the words leave his mouth. Not only are they the least convincing phrase he could’ve uttered, out loud they also sound far sharper than he meant for them to be. It’s hard to keep his agitation out of his voice these days, but that makes for a sorry excuse.
Still, Adrian doesn’t apologize for his tone. That would drag out the conversation, which is just about the last thing he feels like doing right now. He much prefers to scowl down at the stupid book in front of him and ignore the meaningful glances Hermione and Ron are exchanging across the table.
It’s not the first time Hermione has asked him that question and though Ron isn’t one for nagging, Adrian would have to be cursed into the next week to miss his best mate’s worried glances and not-nearly-as-well-hidden-as-he-thinks gestures. Ron’s taken to pile more food on Adrian's plate than his own for crying out. Their obvious concern warms Adrian, especially considering that Ron and Hermione have spent most of the past months fighting with each other, but Adrian can’t help but wish they’d go back to snapping at each other rather than bonding over their worry for him.
All this attention makes him twitchy.
They’ve even dragged Harry into it. Ever since his brother dragged Adrian out of the Great Hall mid-lunch and demanded an explanation for his behavior, his friends have inducted him into their little Protect Adrian's Mental and Physical Health cult. And hey, Adrian’s always wished Ron and Hermione would get on better with his twin, but that was before he experienced the unholy alliance that is Harry, Ron and Hermione in action. And more importantly united against him.
Yeah. Turns out Adrian was perfectly fine with their previous distance and forcefully polite exchanges. And he wants those times back. Desperately. Not wonder what schemes they’re plotting behind his back at this very moment.
What makes the situation worse — unbearable really — is that they’re being good friends and good siblings and he’s not.
Adrian’s lying to them. All of them. And while he can live with the rest of the world living in ignorance — it’s the natural state of witches and wizards everywhere, as his mom likes to snipe — his friends deserve better. Harry deserves better.
For Merlin’s sake, Adrian’s supposed to be the Gryffindor twin! Yet here he is, being a coward and a liar. No, he’s worse than a liar, he’s a damn fraud. He’s no better than Lockhard, perhaps the most despicable asshole of a professor Adrian has had the misfortune to meet and the one human being he was sorely tempted to feed to the basilisk.
Sure, Adrian didn’t technically know he was being a liar and stealing his brother’s place at that until a few days ago but he does know it now. The right thing to do would be to come clean, to tell Harry the truth. And his parents and maybe Headmaster Dumbledore, who is powerful and respected enough that he can probably fix this mess. Or help at least.
It should be— not easy, perhaps, but certainly not as hard as Adrian makes it out to be. So why isn’t he doing that?
Adrian snorts to himself. That’s a stupid question and even he can only do so much to deny the obvious answer. Because for all that Adrian and Harry are twins, have grown up together, have never even spent a day apart until they were sorted into different houses, know each other inside out—
Adrian doesn’t know how Harry will react when he finds out the truth.
[He tries to picture it. The way Harry might shrug, not even care about the stupid title they’ve both mocked plenty of times over the years. The way his eyes might light up, the way he might be happy, relieved that he is special after all. The way his eyebrows might furrow together, how he might get upset, even angry because Adrian took his place.
But the problem is, for all that they’ve talked and argued about the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing before, for all that Adrian can make up scenarios until they follow him into his nightmares, he has no idea how the reality of it might play out.]
And that terrifies him.
A few minutes of peaceful quiet later, Ron asks a question that somehow turns into an argument over Hermione’s half-kneazle and the half-dead rat Ron picked up on his way back to the castle during their first Hogsmeade visit and has taken to nursing back to health.
The argument escalates to a full-blown fight that gets all three of them kicked out of the library. Hermione is so furious, she refuses to talk with Ron for three weeks.
On the bright side, neither of them bother Adrian all that much in the meantime, too busy ranting about the other. Not that Adrian pays either of them much attention when they get started. He’s a bit pre-occupied, what with having an existential crisis and all.
The Christmas holidays are the solution Adrian ultimately settles on. He and Harry will be back home, where no matter how Harry might react, at least they don’t run the risk of having the truth spread through the whole school before they’ve decided what they want to do with it. Plus, like it or not, Adrian knows his parents need to know as well. This isn’t the kind of news he can put in a letter either, so on that front it works out pretty well.
Adrian plans it all out. Talks the entire conversation through in his head — and in front of a bathroom mirror that isn’t charmed to talk back — and tries to prepare himself for the potential reactions.
It’ll be easier to talk to Harry first, then get his parents’ involved. Ideally calmly and with Harry by his side a few hours later. Less ideally Harry will probably drag them into their conversation kicking and screaming, but that Adrian has to brace himself for anyway. He’s thirteen years old, if worst comes to worst he can stay over at Ron’s for a few days until his brother calms down.
It’ll be fine.
Adrian’s gonna pull Harry aside the day after Christmas — because the last thing he wants is to ruin their family time during the festivities — and it’ll be fine. It has to be.
Two weeks before they leave for the holidays, the entire school goes into lockdown after Azkaban escapee Peter Pettigrew is sighted near the entrance of the Gryffindor common room.
The Great Hall’s ceiling might show a beautiful rendition of the night’s sky above their heads, but Adrian can’t help but notice that as a sleeping quarter it leaves much to be desired. Granted, students aren’t supposed to sleep here normally. But they do tonight. After a school-wide alarm Adrian didn’t even know Hogwarts has woke them all up at two in the morning.
And now, knowing that the man who betrayed his family’s location to Voldemort is somewhere in this castle, Adrian’s supposed to sleep? He wishes the Slytherins weren’t located on the other side of the Great Hall — admittedly a wise precaution on the side of the professors for most years.
Still. Adrian would really, really like to talk to Harry right now. Harry always comes up with the best revenge plans when he’s motivated. And considering it’s Pettigrew and they were dragged up here in the middle of the night by their professors, Harry’d be plenty motivated.
Adrian sighs softly into his cushion.
It’s fairly quiet, so quiet he can hear the steps of the two supervising professors and the snores of a couple of lucky students who have already gone back to sleep. Adrian wishes he could join them, but with the way his heart has only just begun to calm down, sleep’s a long time coming. And lying in the dark, staring up at the night’s sky is pretty nice as far as the view goes, but it doesn’t make up for the stone he’s resting on. Sure, they’ve gotten thin mattresses, but it’s not his bed.
Adrian’s very fond of his bed.
Well, if nothing else, lying on his back and picking out various constellations gives Adrian time to think. Something he’s been lacking during the last week, since apparently the professors have realized that they’re heading towards the holidays and are determined to keep the students’ rising excitement buried under as much homework as is at all reasonable. And in Snape’s case not even that.
At least Remus is a great teacher which makes Defense Against the Dark Arts bearable for the first time in Adrian’s time at Hogwarts. Although Adrian hopes the way Remus has been hovering around him after Pettigrew’s break-in had been discovered and before McGonagall had called him away isn’t going to be a thing from now on.
Ron and Hermione are already being clingy — they’ve apparently reached a temporary ceasefire in the face of real life Death Eater threats, which Adrian appreciates, really, he does, if only that doesn’t mean they’ll start watching his every move again — and Harry could go either way but usually swings towards 'concerned’ if only because he knows very well how much it annoys Adrian.
Honestly, it’s like they expect Pettigrew to leap out of a shadowy corner and choke the life out of Adrian with his bare hands. It doesn’t make much sense to him, after all why would the guy wait twelve years just to come track him down now? On the other hand, Pettigrew was spotted near the Gryffindor common room and it’s not like there’s anything or anyone else at Hogwarts that Pettigrew would have reason to seek out.
So all in all the likelihood that there is a certifiably insane and possibly revenge-obsessed traitor after his blood isn’t as low as Adrian would like it to be. And doesn’t that just figure? Adrian isn’t even the real Boy-Who-Lived and yet he still has to deal with all murder attempts and suspicious glances from the teachers. Harry better appreciates this once Adrian tells him. Although knowing the little shit, he’s much more likely to laugh at him. Loudly and publicly.
A loud breath momentarily startles Adrian out of his thoughts, but it’s just Ron rolling all the way off his mat. Luckily — for Ron — he’s moving away from Arian, not closer. Else Adrian would’ve started kicking. He’s not sharing his mattress and more than that he hates the feeling of being boxed in. Lying in a seemingly endless row of students is bad enough.
Burrowing deeper into his blanket, Adrian breathes in deeply, then slowly releases the air again through his lips. As much trouble as he tends to attract, Pettigrew is unlikely to try anything tonight, not after he’s already drawn so much attention.
Still, the more Adrian thinks about Pettigrew — and he’s trying very hard not to do that, actually, because if he allows himself to focus on the man who almost got his entire family killed, who is the reason his little brother got a killing curse to the face, Adrian is going to hunt him down and murder him — the clearer it seems that the man is here for Adrian.
Well. For the Boy-Who-Lived. Whom everyone thinks is Adrian. Maybe even Voldemort. His ghostly shade had certainly fixated on Adrian quickly enough, not that that half-self had made a very sane impression. And the memory of Tom Riddle had also been obsessed with Adrian — because Ron’s sister had told him he was the Boy-Who-Lived.
Logically that means that when the truth gets out, these types of threats will focus on Harry. Because most people don't care about Adrian Potter, not really. They care about the cause of the Dark Lord’s downfall. Adrian frowns.
He’s pretty sure he doesn’t like that.
It’s always been him before. And that was a good thing. Because he was supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived, sure, but also because he’s Harry’s older brother and he’s supposed to protect him. That’s what he promised Harry when they were kids and that’s what Adrian’s gonna do. And. The truth is gonna make that harder. Is gonna draw attention to Harry in a way that Adrian never wants to see aimed at his twin. Because all those threatening letters their parents think he doesn’t know about, the cursed objects that have been sent to him, the two kidnapping attempts, all the bullshit Adrian puts up with because people want to touch the child that couldn’t be killed and all the enemies he has because Voldemort’s followers didn’t have the decency to die with him, all of that will be aimed at Harry.
At his little brother.
That is unacceptable.
Christmas comes and goes.
Dad gives Adrian a communication mirror he can use to call for help instantly in case Pettigrew manages to break into Hogwarts again, which they all tacitly assume he will despite Sirius’ visit and subsequent adjustments of the castle’s wards. Mom hands him a charmed necklace that protects against low-level curses and contains a last-resort self-defense mechanism she hopes he won’t have to use, which Adrian takes to mean he’ll definitely have to use, so he pays careful attention to her explanation, and Harry needles him endlessly to remember to always have the invisibility cloak on his person.
["I don’t know why I have to tell you this at all. It should be second-nature, you of all people should know the value of always having a way out. It’s only prudent, though I suppose that explains why you haven’t thought it."
"Did you just say 'prudent'?" Adrian eyes his twin dubiously, wondering where things have gone so wrong.
Harry sniffs in his best Malfoy-imitation. Which is scarily good. That settles it: Adrian will burn the Sorting Hat to ashes for letting his impressionable little brother get sorted into the snake den.
"You should open a dictionary once in a while. I’m sure Granger would be delighted."
"Oh, Shut. Up." Adrian punctuates both words by stabbing his fork in Harry’s direction with enough enthusiasm to send a piece of egg flying.
Harry snorts. "All I’m saying is it makes sense to keep the cloak at hand just in case. That’s common sense. Which you will employ or I’m gonna tell Granger the truth about that one history essay."
Adrian gapes, speechless with outrage for a second. One time. He's copied his brother’s essay one time because Wood’s Quidditch practices have been insane after their loss against Hufflepuff and they’d both been confident Binns wouldn’t notice. Which he hasn’t.
"You don’t even like Hermione and now you’re threatening me with her?!"
At that Harry rolls his eyes. "What’s liking got to do with anything? I’m using blackmail because clearly common sense isn’t enough and since you are the most bearable Gryffindor I know—", they both ignore Dad’s outraged protests at that statement, serves him right for listening to their argument like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all day, "—I refuse to let you get yourself killed before we’ve made it half-way through Hogwarts."
"Aw, I love you to, Ry-Ry," Adrian drawls with a sugar-sweet smile. "And I’m perfectly capable of surviving Hogwarts on my own, thank you very much."
The deadpan stare that answer earns him from Harry is completely uncalled for.]
Over the next few days, Sirius and Remus stop by and they have a huge snowball fight in the backyard and Mom tells Adrian about some of her more interesting, less classified research projects and Dad goes flying with them. Harry and Adrian spend more time together in those two blissful weeks than they have in the last two months, which is nice because his friends are great but Adrian hadn't even realized how much he misses it being just the two of them. He even finds the time to convince Remus to teach Adrian the Patronus Charm, the only real defense against dementors that he or Hermione have found. Harry insists on learning it as well and they spend to rest of that afternoon getting their first impromptu lesson.
It’s great. Better than great even.
[Adrian doesn’t bring up the Boy-Who-Lived mess once during the break and by the time he’s on his way back to Hogwarts, he’s almost convinced himself that it’s for the best.]
It is for the best.
Well. Alright, so it might be for the best. Adrian grimaces at his own trail of thought. He’s gonna have to sound a lot more confident when he explains his decision at some point in the future. And he will have to 'fess up eventually, of that there is no doubt.
But it honestly isn’t a bad idea to keep up the ruse. After all, everyone already thinks Adrian is the Boy-Who-Lived and so far he’s managed to survive. Isn’t it a good thing? Isn’t it advantageous that no one is watching Harry with the same scrutiny, the same expectations? In case it ever does matter — in case Voldemort’s left-over shards try something again and why wouldn’t he — won’t this give Harry the edge that might make a difference?
It’s a terrible mistake and Adrian doesn’t understand how it could happen in the first place, but the fact is it has happened and now they have to make the best of it. And maybe the best for them, for Harry, isn’t to reveal the truth. Especially not with Pettigrew stalking the halls of Hogwarts. So really, Adrian isn’t so much lying as choosing not to unveil the lie and he’s doing it for a good reason. That counts for something, right?
Hermione certainly won’t be impressed. Ron might be, but then again his mate can be oddly protective at the strangest moments, so he might just be pissed. Urgh. Just thinking about that confrontation is giving Adrian a headache.
At least Harry will appreciate it. If tricking the entire Wizarding World into watching the wrong boy-hero isn’t a Slytherin move, Adrian doesn’t know what is. And if he’s conveniently not thinking about how Harry definitely won’t appreciate Adrian putting himself in harm’s way for his sake, how rightfully furious he’ll be that Adrian hasn’t told him, well, Adrian’s getting kind of good at living in denial.
Practice makes perfect and all that.
January passes quickly and uneventful, safe for Seamus’ regular efforts to turn water into rum that tend to lead to an explosive outcome. Also Ron and Hermione aren’t talking with each other. Apparently Hermione’s monster of a half-kneazle Crookshanks attacked Ron’s foundling rat, which he’s named Scrabbers and is weirdly attached to, on the train back to Hogwarts.
With no sign of Pettigrew and plenty of homework, Quidditch practices and Patronus lessons to worry about, Adrian keeps himself busy — and far away from his best friends’ spats. Although if he has to listen to one more rant from either of them about the other’s unreasonable behavior, he’s gonna dropkick them out of the closest window.
Adrian rarely sees Harry except during their shared lessons with Remus and when Harry purposefully seeks him out to give him a heart-attack and check that he’s carrying the invisibility cloak as promised. Apparently there’s some sort of in-house competition or maneuver going on and Harry’s busy keeping an eye out for new alliances and back-up plans or something. Adrian’s pretty sure Slytherin just goes out of its way to make its inner house politics more complicated than they need to be to confuse the rest of them. Seems like something the pretentious bastards would do.
Adrian still doesn’t understand how Harry ended up there. Sure, Nott and Zabini don’t seem too bad as long as they keep their mouths shut and aren’t in close vicinity of either Ron nor Hermione. [Harry has assured him that Zabini doesn’t care about blood status so much as about money, which Adrian is pretty sure is his brother’s way of saying Zabini is a huge snob who wouldn’t give his friends the time of the day unless they magically inherit a hidden fortune. When he’d pointedly asked about Nott’s view on blood, Harry had just as pointed stated that he doesn’t have to agree with his friends on every single issue, which isn’t encouraging but probably the best Adrian could hope for.]
But even ignoring those two, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle are bad enough during lessons. How Harry handles sharing a dorm with them remains a mystery. Though from the hints his brother has dropped over the years, said mystery involves a lot of jinxes, hexes and the occasional curse.
It’s actually during one of his short conversations with Harry on their way to dinner in the Great Hall that Adrian has a minor revelation of his own.
Harry is going on and on about how some sixth year Slytherin student tricked Malfoy into embarrassing himself in front of the whole common room — which Adrian is all for, honestly, if only Harry wasn’t so cagey about how exactly Malfoy embarrassed himself — and the mere fact that Adrian knows that the sixth year Slytherins are gonna use that incident to solidify their hold on the house against the unholy alliance of Malfoy’s trio and most of the fourth and fifth year girls because the seventh years are too caught up in studying for their N.E.W.T.S. to bother with their housemates any longer shows that Adrian has gotten way too involved in Slytherin drama.
Clearly Harry is a terrible influence because in that moment Adrian comes to a sudden, striking realization that has him freeze on the spot.
He’s kept on wondering how on Earth so many smart and experienced witches and wizards like Headmaster Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey could just declare the wrong twin the Boy-Who-Lived. But what if it wasn’t an accident? What if there was no mistake?
"Adrian?"
Hadn’t Mom and Dad spent their whole childhood warning them that just because Voldemort was gone didn’t mean his supporters had disappeared as well? That no one was a hundred percent sure if Voldemort is even dead, considering they didn’t find a body? And the Quirrell incident sure has proven their point in that regard.
So, knowing that the Boy-Who-Lived would be a target for years, perhaps even his entire life… wouldn’t it make sense to hide him in plain sight? Add an addition layer of misdirection to the most well-known tale in Magical Britain, just in case Harry draws the wrong kind of attention? That’s what Adrian’s been considering since he found out, hasn’t he? That maybe this way Harry would be better off, would be safer. It would make sense that he’s not the first to consider that option. After all, how many child-heroes come with a convenient body double?
"-rian? Come on, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?"
Does Dumbledore know? Does Sirius? Mom and Dad?
Adrian sways, barely aware of the tight grip on his shoulders. Is that what he is? Is that all he is? A bodyguard, protection, the last line of defense until his brother is old enough to protect himself? Bait?
"'Rian, look at me!"
His brother’s call, the fear in his voice is what snaps Adrian out of. He blinks, stares into Harry’s eyes, the same shade of green as his own. They’re so alike. Even the scars on their foreheads look similar. [Is that on purpose?]
"I think I’m gonna throw up," Adrian chokes out and races towards the closest loo.
Harry doesn’t leave his side, except to hex Malfoy when the bastard stumbles upon them and sneers something about not even heroes being safe from the flu.
Adrian leans his flushed face against the cool tiles and tries to convince himself that it’s gonna be fine. Does it even matter what other people might have planned when he was too young to make a choice for himself? Adrian’s old enough now and with Harry right there with him, gently rubbing his back while glowering at Malfoy — who looks absolutely stunning with Weasley-red hair, Adrian wonders absently if he can convince the Weasley twins to forcefully adopt Malfoy into the family for shits and giggles — Adrian already knows that it’s no choice at all.
Their Patronus lessons are a disaster.
Harry manages to produce a silver light instead, although it’s a long way off from taking proper shape, but Adrian can’t even manage that. Remus insists that the memories he’s using aren’t strong enough and Adrian has no trouble believing him.
The problem is all his best memories involve his family. And all of them are now tainted by the ugly question on whether or not they knew. Needless to say, Adrian doesn’t make any progress that afternoon.
["Wanna tell me what’s wrong?" Harry asks after they’ve left Remus’ office.
"No."
They walk in amiable silence until they reach the closest moving staircase, where Harry heads towards the dungeons and Adrian climbs up towards the Gryffindor tower and Adrian can almost convince himself that nothing has changed.]
In March, Pettigrew is sighted inside the Gryffindor common room. Adrian wasn’t even in the common room at the time, but since no one knows how Pettigrew got in and out without anyone seeing them agitation and tempers are running high.
Snape’s in such a terrible mood, he’s started taking points off Slytherin, which is a sure sign that the apocalypse is upon them. For Pettigrew’s sake, Adrian hopes Snape isn’t the one to catch him. For his own sake, Adrian really, really hopes Snape will let him watch.
Dear Merlin, he’s starting to sound like Harry. The same Harry who’s dangerously close to losing his patience with the entire school and especially the teachers. Adrian even caught his brother shouting at Remus because how come none of the professors or aurors have found even a hint of Pettigrew’s presence in the supposedly safest place in Magical Britain?
Adrian hates to admit it, but Harry has a point.
Still, he doesn’t understand why Pettigrew’s apparent obsession with has earned him a visit to the headmaster. Unless Dumbledore is considering sending him home until they capture Pettigrew. Though going by their current success rate, Adrian might not make it back to Hogwarts before he graduates if that’s the case.
The Headmaster’s office looks the same as Adrian remembers from the incident with the basilisk, though Fawkes’ perch is empty this time. Headmaster Dumbledore is wearing a lime green robe that neither blinks nor glitters, a sure indication that the old wizard is having a bad day.
At least that’s probably not Adrian’s fault. Unless his parents’ have found out that Pettigrew got into Hogwarts again. Then it’s definitely Adrian’s fault.
[Sometimes Adrian wishes his parents’ wouldn’t make such a fuss over every little unfortunate occurrence in his school career. Then he remembers that there used to live a fifty-foot long basilisk inside Hogwarts’ walls that killed a student and petrified countless others and he wonders how any parent of sound mind sends their children to this castle.
Alright, that settles it. He’s definitely spent too much time with Harry lately.]
"Ah, Adrian, my dear boy. Thank you for visiting an old man." Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkle behind his gold-rimmed glasses, but then they always do that. "Please take a seat. Would you like a lemon drop?"
"Thank you, sir."
Adrian takes the lemon drop and smiles and answers Dumbledore’s careful questions on whether he’s noticed anything or anyone odd following him lately or paying more attention to him or even just an animal acting oddly. Which Adrian hasn’t — unless you count Crookshanks’ inspirational hatred for Scrabbers, but even half-kneazles have their instincts and really Adrian is tired of the arguments those two spark among his friends — nor has he any idea how Pettigrew might have gotten into the common room.
In the end, all the headmaster can give Adrian is another assurance that everyone is doing their best to keep him safe, a stern reminder to keep his eyes open and a joking plea to please write his parents before his mother sets Dumbledore’s beard on fire.
At least Adrian thinks the headmaster is joking.
[He spends the entire conversation alternating between staring at the frames of Dumbledore’s glasses and his own hands and tries very, very hard not to think—
Did you know?]
The Friday after their last round of end of the year exams everything goes to hell.
Later, Adrian will take a moment of time to be pissed about that. Really pissed. Ignoring his occasional run-ins with soul-sucking monsters, Adrian’s third year at Hogwarts could almost be called uneventful. Sure, Pettigrew had made a nuisance of himself, but it’s not as though Adrian had so much as caught sight of the man. And yes, Adrian had made a life-changing discovery that had turned his entire world on its head but no one else knew that.
All in all, the year could almost be called normal. Boring. Until tonight. Because Merlin forbid Adrian have a peaceful end of term. Clearly fate is conspiring against him and Adrian is gonna be so fucking pissed about. Later.
When he’s not busy running for his life.
"Any-" Ron gasps out in between harsh breaths to his left, "Any ideas?"
"We can’t outrun a werewolf!" Hermione hisses from two steps behind them. As quiet as she’s trying to be, she’s as out of breath as the rest of them and Adrian has no idea how long they’re gonna last.
He ducks underneath a long hanging branch, only to trip over the thick roots on the ground. The darkness makes it hard to see where they can run and he’s long lost track of where Remus might be. Seriously, after years of taking Wolfsbane with a precision bordering on the fanatic, of course tonight of all nights would be the first time Remus forgets to take the potion.
At this point Adrian is pretty sure there really is a curse on the defense position, this all just works out too damn terrible to be a coincidence. He makes a mental note to apologize to Sirius and admit that the man was justified to be angry over the risk Remus has taken by accepting the position — provided Adrian survives the night.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Granger!" Harry bites out, as he pulls Adrian roughly back onto his feet.
Under any other circumstances, Adrian would have expected the sharp words to come from Nott, who rarely lets an opportunity to snipe at Hermione pass by, not his brother. But Nott is so pale, Adrian half-expected him to pass out the moment Remus’ change set in — thank Merlin he didn’t, none of them would’ve been able to carry him, the only reason they still have Pettigrew is that the bastard changed back into a rat before three stunners from Harry, Nott and Adrian knocked him out — and apparently the prissy pureblood does prioritize their survival over antagonizing the sole muggleborn in the group. Always good to know.
"She’s right though," Adrian points out rather than waste time defending Hermione. He can cover that when they aren’t in very real danger of being torn apart. "We can’t keep this up."
"I know." Harry makes a choked noise when he takes a turn to sharp and slams his shoulder hard enough against a tree it has to hurt but doesn’t slow down. Neither has he let go of Pettigrew’s stunned form. Adrian absently hopes his brother won’t squish the man. Traitor or not, that’d be disgusting. "Got a suggestion, oh wise one?"
"We need to split up." Adrian grimaces at the mere thought even though it’s the best move.
"Yeah." Harry doesn’t even try to argue which is a sure sign of just how fucked they are. "Theo, Granger and I left, you and Weasley right."
"Why those?" Adrian asks instead of screaming 'No!' at the top of his lungs. The thought of sending his brother off without him, not knowing if he’ll make it— but he can’t focus on that right now and Harry must have a reason or he wouldn’t have picked both Nott and Hermione.
"They’re less in shape than you and Weasley," Harry gasps out. Neither of them pay Nott’s offended shout any mind. "And I’m holding Pettigrew, which is less than ideal. We’ll run as far as we can to hopefully draw Remus’ attention, then climb the trees and hope for the best."
It’s official: Adrian hates Harry’s plan.
"What if werewolves can climb trees?" Can they? Adrian can’t remember.
"Well it’ll be a lot easier to curse him from above," Harry points out, sounding like the voice of reason when he’s anything but.
Unfortunately Adrian doesn’t have a better idea and Nott is already falling behind. He might not like the guy, but he’s not letting Harry’s friend get mauled by a werewolf. Gritting his teeth and hoping against all hope that he’s not gonna regret this decision for the rest of his — potentially very short — life, Adrian nods.
"Stay safe, Harry." Don't you dare die on me.
"You too, Adrian." Who do you take me for?
The words hover between them, barely audible for all that they ring in Adrian’s ears. Then he reaches out, grabs Ron’s forearm and veers him off to one side. He hopes the crashing noise in the bushes behind them is just his imagination acting up.
In the aftermath of that terrible, terrible night both Harry and Hermione take turns to explain to Adrian and Ron how their plan worked at first, then took a sudden turn for the worst. Nott probably would’ve chimed in at that point if he wasn’t busy clutching his hot chocolate and refusing to speak a word to anyone, even Madam Pomfrey.
[Adrian’s tactful enough not to ask, especially when he catches the way Harry leans over once to subtly squeeze Nott’s shoulder. Dislike and prejudice aside, Adrian wouldn’t wish dementors on anyone. Except Malfoy. Seems like the sort of formative experience the little asshole desperately needs to become a decent human being. Oh and Pettigrew, who almost got Harry de-souled and can die in a hole for all Adrian cares.]
Apparently their emergency plan had worked well for a bit and Nott, Hermione and Harry had taken refuge in some very tall trees and after blasting some fire at Remus from a distance, the wolf must have decided to search for easier prey.
So far, so good.
What they had failed to account for was Pettigrew waking up from his stunner and deciding his best move would be to turn back into his human self. That in turn had startled Harry into dropping the suddenly rapidly growing man, who had fallen off the tree and promptly knocked himself unconscious.
Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. [Not even Hermione argues that point, nor does she look disturbed by the gleeful tone in Harry’s voice.]
Unfortunately being human enabled the dementors to track Pettigrew down. And because the Minister is an even worse idiot than Pettigrew who has handed out Kissed on Sight orders like candy and dementors don’t give a fuck if a conveniently nearby soul was included in said orders or not, this series of circumstances led to all of them — Nott, Harry, Hermione and Pettigrew, not that anyone cares about that last one — getting swarmed by dementors.
[That settles it. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow but one day Adrian is going to eradicate the dementors. Driving them off is too kind a fate and not nearly enough.]
Which explains the heart-stopping sight Adrian came face to face with when he burst out of the tree line only to see Nott and Hermione passed out on the ground and his brother about to receive the dementor’s kiss.
That.
Adrian has no words for what he felt in that moment. In those milliseconds that drove the realization home that he was too far away to stop this, that there was an entire lake between him and Harry and he could do nothing but watch while his twin lost his soul.
And well, Adrian doesn’t remember Ron’s horrified shouts. Doesn’t remember the coldness in his limbs, how shaky and unsteady his legs felt, how out of breath and tired he was. He remembers the horror. The rage. The certainty.
[Harry looks at him, the same bright, usually mischievous green eyes Adrian sees in the mirror every day now wet with tears that he wipes away angrily with a fist. "Promise?"
"I promise," Adrian says, means, swears. "I’ll always keep you safe, Ry."
Harry sniffs, then squirms closer until he can hide his face in Adrian’s sweatshirt. "'m sorry for being stupid. You know I’ll always stand by your side, Ry."
A tightness Adrian hadn’t even known was still there until now eases in his chest as he pulls his twin closer, until he can feel Harry’s heart beat alongside his own. "Promise?"]
In that very moment, Adrian feels many, many things. [I will always keep you safe.] Happiness isn't one of them.
"Expecto Patronum!"
For the fully corporal rattlesnake that glides over the lake like a eager huntress narrowing in on her prey it’s more than enough.
In the end Adrian doesn’t mention the shape his patronus has taken and no one asks. The Ministry is more concerned with covering up the fact that three school children, among them Adrian Potter’s brother and Theodore Nott — because let’s not focus too much on the muggleborn — almost received the kiss. And Dumbledore is too busy calming Adrian’s parents down and assuring them that yes, they’ve taken young Peter’s animagus form into account and adjusted the wards accordingly, but have failed to take into consideration that he might already be inside.
Neither Mom nor Dad are impressed with that explanation. Harry wouldn’t be either if he wasn’t stuck spending the night in the infirmary.
And because Harry isn’t there to contradict him, Adrian doesn’t mention the fully corporal lion that joined his own patronus a few moments later and took vicious delight in bowling the dementors over and tearing into their essence. Doesn’t mention Harry’s stark white face and gleaming eyes, furious and desperate and determined.
[I will always stand by your side.]
It’s not about putting Harry down or making himself seem more important. What it is is a conscious choice to hide how capable, how extraordinary Harry is. Because as long as Adrian is known as the Boy-Who-Lived, as long as all eyes are focused on him, no one is gonna watch Harry with the same scrutiny. No one will expect those same and more feats from Harry.
And Adrian has come to the realization that that could be a good thing. Because the thing is, Adrian doesn’t care why the mix-up happened. He doesn’t care if Dumbledore or his parents or anyone else knows or not. Doesn’t care if he’s part of a greater plan or the biggest trick that’s ever been pulled on the entire Wizarding World or if it was a genuine mistake that no one thought to check. It doesn’t matter anymore because Adrian knows the truth now and he has to choose for himself what he does with the knowledge. And what Adrian wants, more than anything, is to keep Harry safe.
So if living this lie is what it takes — to be a blinding light, to be seen and heard and talked about so that Harry may fade into the shadows, so that they’ll never expect him or see him coming — that’s what Adrian will do.
And maybe it’s silly and over-dramatic and pointless. An unnecessary precaution that won’t ever be needed. It’s not like being the twin brother of the Boy-Who-Lived is all that safe or life at Hogwarts in general for that matter. Tonight has certainly driven that point home. But. There’s a chance. A small one but still there. That Voldemort or whatever is left of him will come back.
[Pettigrew had cried and begged and pleaded and for all that the man was half-mad, the fear in his eyes was real. His drive to escape his captors was real too.]
Harry won’t appreciate this, Adrian knows. He might even hate Adrian for it, should he ever uncover the full truth, find out that however unintentional it started, Adrian has knowingly kept the truth from him and everyone else. But Harry is also a Slytherin who understands the value of keeping aces up your sleeve and using preconceived notions and misunderstandings to your own advantage. Adrian will be able to convince him to keep quiet about his patronus and they’ll continue their extracurricular training this summer like they always do and this time Adrian won’t slack off or make excuses.
Even if no one knows, even if he might never be needed, Adrian is the shield between Harry and the world. And he will not fail.
[Keeping his twin brother safe. It sounds so pretty, so well-intentioned, so brave when you you put it like that. Appropriate for a proud Gryffindor even. And sure, that’s part of it. Of course it is.
But over the coming months and years, as Adrian builds and builds a house of cards on a lie that should’ve never been his to shoulder, it’s not the many months he spent agonizing about his decision that he will remember. It’s this very night, the night his brother almost lost his soul.
The night Adrian realizes that the thing he fears most isn’t Harry’s anger or even his hatred — it’s failing his brother. Losing his brother. That night Adrian learns that he is a horrible, selfish person. The kind of person who will trick and lie and deceive everyone in his life who cares about him if that’s what it takes keep his twin alive. The kind of person who might be sorry but won't ever regret it because he cares, Adrian has always cared. Just not enough. Not about people he doesn't consider his own.]
On some level, Adrian expects things to change after he comes to terms with his decision. There's just something final about making up your mind and it feels like that should matter.
It’s a ridiculous, unreasonable expectation and Adrian knows that once he thinks about it. After all, it’s not like anyone knows. No one has ever known. As far as Hogwarts, the professors, his parents and literally everyone else is concerned, nothing has changed. Still, rationalizing it doesn’t combat the unsettling feeling in Adrian’s stomach. Doesn’t make it feel any less wrong that a truth of this magnitude has been uncovered without affecting things.
Because it should.
Part of Adrian keeps waiting for it. Keeps expecting the fraying strands to unravel. For his fellow students to turn around and call him out for being a fraud. For Harry to learn the truth the same way he has and confront him about it. For Dumbledore to pull him aside and explain that he’s old enough now to learn the truth.
Nothing of the sort happens though. Third year ends. Adrian and Harry return home with little fanfare and a whole lot of lectures. And with every day that passes the part inside Adrian that keeps whispering 'It’s wrong, you’re wrong, it was never supposed to be you' grows smaller. Smaller — but it doesn’t disappear entirely.
And things aren’t good exactly because as much as Adrian appreciates knowing the truth, as useful as this little deceit might one day turn out to be, right now he has to lie to everyone he loves because thirteen years ago someone couldn’t be bothered to take a closer look at the circumstances and identify the right twin.
[There’s a bitterness in that thought, in their implications, much as Adrian tries to brush it off. Heroes aren’t supposed to be bitter. He remembers that much from the stories his father used to read to him. Heroes are better than that. Even if only because they have to be, as Harry would no doubt slyly point out.
But well. Adrian was never supposed to be the hero of this story, was he?]
The first though by far not the last time Adrian doubts his decision to keep up the charade and keep Harry in the dark about it, his brother is still in the Hogwarts’ infirmary. It’s a couple of hours after their little game of hide and seek with werewolf-Remus and the confused disappointment on Harry’s face when Adrian admits he hasn’t told their parents’ and the headmaster about Harry’s patronus almost makes Adrian turn around and blow the whole thing off.
Almost.
A year later, Adrian is tied to gravestone and watches in rising revulsion and horror as the worthless traitor Pettigrew that they should’ve definitely left to the dementors resurrects the Dark Lord Voldemort. And yet. Through the shock of witnessing Cedric’s pointless murder, through the unimaginable pain of Voldemort’s crucio and his Death Eaters’ mocking laughter, Adrian can’t help but feel relieved. Relieved that it’s he who is standing here. He who is going to die in a Merlin-forsaken graveyard.
[That’s a selfish thought too because maybe if it had been Harry, Cedric wouldn’t have died. Maybe if it had been Harry, he wouldn’t have fallen into the trap at all, maybe Voldemort would’ve never succeeded in restoring his physical body. But Adrian’s always been selfish where his twin is concerned and this is the harshest, most brutal truth: Adrian doesn’t care. Not enough to compromise his brother’s safety.]
As Voldemort whispers, "Bow to your death, Adrian Potter", as Pettigrew hands him his wand as though that would somehow make a duel between a fourteen year old kid and a grown Dark Lord fair and Adrian meets Voldemort’s gaze, sees the obsessive insanity in them, Adrian realizes something else: Even if he doesn’t die here today, the choice he made to keep up the charade is one he will never be able to take back now. Not with the Dark Lord back among the living and buying into the same lie.
And although that very choice is probably going to get him killed within the next few minutes, Adrian won’t ever be able to regret it.
So Adrian breathes through the pain and gets up on trembling legs and does what Adrian Potter does best: He brings a role to life that was never his to play, lives up to a title he’s done nothing to earn — and he gets away with it too, exhausted, injured and clutching the dead body of a boy he almost liked, but alive nonetheless.
[After all, the hero always wins in the end. And Adrian Potter might not be the hero fate chose, might not be the hero the Wizarding World needs, but he’s very, very good at filling the role he was not born but raised to play — so good he almost believes it himself.
And while it is perhaps not as poetic, belief, like love, is a magic of its own.]