My Name is Barry Potter, and I am the twin brother of Harry Potter : Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Commissioned by [Damien Jones]

My Name is Barry Potter, and I am the twin brother of Harry Potter.

Chapter 2

–Barry Potter–

He looked up from the comfortable position he had taken on their bed to read the latest findings on volcanic ash research in Yellowstone Park in America, as he felt something clearly magical enter his sensory range. Hell, the fact that it could even enter the dense, terrifyingly strong magical barrier around the house meant it was either benign or keyed into the wards themselves.

Snapping the book shut, he got out of the bed and fluidly floated to the window, his legs barely touching the flooring as he used telekinesis on himself with barely a thought. It was as instinctive as walking with his legs these days, because of all the practice he did and made Harry do as well, though in Harry’s case, he made sure the boy preferred his legs with magic reinforcement because it would be a lot harder to explain a wizard boy floating alongside the ground like a wraith than an exceptional wizard running at an exceptional speed.

His eyes widened, and then narrowed at the bird who sat on the mailbox for a bit before its neck snapped straight towards him. The next moment, it made a beeline towards his window. The window opened with a thought, as he extended his hand, covered in reinforcement magic, just in case the owl was not trained enough, which was unlikely, but one could never be careful enough.

The owl looked at him with beady eyes before extending its leg towards him, which had a small letter attached to it. Well, it looked small, but judging by the magic he could feel on it, it must be spatially folded or something.

The thought sent a thrill of excitement running through him, forcing him to make sure Harry did not wake up because of all the hormones flooding the body. His first encounter with spatial magic!

Dreams of pocket dimensions, seamless teleportation, spatial offensive spells, and more flashed through his mind before he came back to reality and carefully took the letter off the owl. Unfortunately, he had nothing to feed the owl, and it flew off before he could propose going down and bringing some from the fridge.

He shrugged at that. The meat was going to be frozen anyway, so who knew if the bird could still eat it or not, as magical as it might be. If he was recalling it correctly, the owls themselves were not completely magical. They were just bred over generations in highly saturated magical environments and trained by wizards that led them to gain slightly higher intelligence and much higher sense of direction than their non magical counterparts.

Well, atleast that’s what Tommy boy knew anyway. It’s not like he had access to technology advanced enough to check any genetic changes that might have happened over generations of breeding owls for sending letters when the bloody wizards had ready access to teleportation methods.

Shaking his head, he turned around and floated back to the bed, the window closing behind him with a soft click, as he let his magic spread all around him, encompassing the entire room in his magic.

Now, while Tommy Boy’s memories, or the ones he managed to eat and digest properly anyway, were not really thorough on the most basic of magical education necessary to cast the grandiose spells and rituals he had at the forefront of his mind, so while he could not turn Harry into a Seventh Year grade wizard before he even reached Hogwarts, he could do some stuff.

Wandless stuff, to be precise. Stuff that was more akin to pressing one’s magic against the world for a specific purpose than casting a highly structured and precise magical matrix known as a spell. Which is why his magic covered the entire room from ceiling to the floor, and then glowed a subtle blue, which meant it worked.

He had just isolated his room from most foreign long range magical effects. Tracking, cursing, divination, and more. Well, that’s what Tommy boy thought anyway. He had no idea if it would work against something like Hogwarts wards when Harry was in school, but for the purposes of reading the letter and then experimenting with the juicy new piece of magic he was about to see? It should be fine, hopefully anyway.

He hadn’t had Dumbledore or anyone from the Ministry banging on his doors just because he had been practising so much magic inside a Muggle house that it should have raised all sorts of alarms at the Ministry. In case that happened, though, he already had an escape plan ready. After all, Tommy boy was a master of moving about undetected and had learned many esoteric spells for that.

Now, he didn’t know if it was the two souls in one body thing that allowed them access to such a large pool of magic, but whatever the reason might be, the benefits were immense. For one, he could use magic to, essentially, supply air directly to his mouth without having to surface for air, if he was swimming.

He’d tried, after making sure Harry was fast asleep, of course, since the kid could, in his panic, try to wrestle back control over the body. There were multiple ways to breathe underwater that Tommy boy knew of, but the easiest one was to just conjure air for him to breathe. 

There was also directly manipulating the water around him to create oxygen and hydrogen, a process he was scared to attempt out of fear of creating something that had the word nuclear in it. He did not want to be the one responsible for destroying the world in a Nuclear war just because London was inexplicably bombed by someone and no government on the world could trace the source, leaving to global panic, and if he knew something about happens, it was that humans rarely took the calm and measured approach in panic, especially the many wanna be dictators that had access to weaponry that could torch cities at once.

Shaking his head, he dismissed the ridiculous worries for his age and read through the letter. As he read through the letter, he felt a sad smile form on his face. Plopping himself on the very comfortable bed he’d made Vernon buy for him and Harry, he shook his head, a pang of sadness in his soul? Chest? as he received the confirmation he was waiting for.

The letter was addressed to just Harry Potter. Nothing for Barry Potter. If the Hogwarts system could not find him, then it raised some pretty important existential questions. He knew he had a soul. He was not just some figment of Harry's mind that had been created because of the magical interface that night or something else.

What it meant was that the Hogwarts system did not recognise possession, which was kind of expected. Maybe Hogwarts would recognise it when Harry went to school? In that case, the next question would be about the aftermath. Because Dumbledore sure as hell was not going to allow someone in the head of his Golden Boy. He could not see that happening, even if this version of Dumbledore was a good guy or a greater good guy or just plain evil.

Even if Harry tried to convince the old man, he was more likely to just brush off Harry’s words as the words of someone who had been influenced by the ghost living in his head. Then again, if Hogwarts could actually detect a different soul in someone’s head, then why hadn’t it detected the soul shard in Harry’s lightning scar?

Was it because it was dormant and contained by his mother’s magic? Or was it because Dumbledore specifically allowed it?

Because the scar was gone now, barely even visible now unless one looked really close, and even then, only the faintest outline was visible. He’d read Petunia’s memories some time ago, and she had the memory of Harry’s scar bleeding black ichor before Harry’s behavior changed in the span of less than a year. So, that black bleeding was likely because he had killed that soul shard in Harry’s soulspace.

There was no real answer to the question, and it was quite daunting for his existence as a whole. As much as he had feared dying to Tommy boy’s advanced Killing Curse, because his mom’s magic could only save one, he was now far more accepting of death. His death, more specifically. He would never let anything happen to Harry. The brat had grown on him.

He was snarky as hell but knew when to take a step back and listen to the voice in his head. It was clearly far superior to his inferior intellect. 

As he said the truth and nothing but the absolute truth, he felt a disturbance in the soul space, and for a moment, he wondered if Harry could hear and comprehend his thoughts even when the brat was asleep, but after a minute of no activity, he relaxed.

Either way, he would prefer to live, obviously, but if push came to shove, the choice was clear. Plus, he was Harry’s free get scot free from the Killing Curse once more card. Of course, he planned to make sure Harry never had to take one to the face, but either way, the option was there.

After going through the entire letter a dozen times, his thoughts still refused to settle down. His mind always went to the imagined scene of Harry being knocked out on his way to Hogwarts, and then waking up with Dumbledore and maybe one of the Unspeakables hovering above him, Harry;s body tightly restrained with magic and no way out without having to fight the strongest wizard alive in Magical Britain and people who were the scariest bunch in the Ministry, and had access to some of the most esoteric magic and magical artefacts.

He sighed, flicking the letter away as it was folded mid air and nearly deposited on the nightstand. After making sure the door was locked properly, he got out of the house, through the window. After all, Tommy Boy’s soul was quite the treasure trove of information. He might still be wandering around like a wraith after this but the soul shard he’d devoured had the most up to date information on his activities right up until his forceful entry into a Fidelius protected house.

After wrapping himself in his magic to avoid detection, which he’d tested beforehand in front of humanity’s best friendo, the many dogs in the dog park, and just flew around randomly, to get his thoughts to clear.

He didn’t really sleep much, on account of being a soul, and as long as he didn’t exert Harry’s body too much, Harry wouldn’t feel much of anything when he woke up either. He hadn’t taught Harry the flying spell yet because the brat had yet to learn what he’d already told him beforehand, which was fine since the brat was barely 11 now.

Not everyone could be a geek like Hermione Granger, who would love nothing more than to have a soul friend in her mind who told her of advanced magic that the majority of wizards in Magical Britain would never have access to.

Ungrateful Brat.

With that in mind, he flew all over the city. Over suburbs. Over rivers. Over golf clubs. Over large mansions and more. He avoided the magical district near the entrance of Diagon Alley, but the rest of the city was his kingdom.

Now that reality had come and slapped him in the face, he found himself wondering about the end goal of what he was doing here. Sure, Harry's safety and well being were paramount, as was making sure that Harry did not have to live under the shadow of a Dark Lord at all times.

In his opinion, the only way to avoid having to fight yet another Dark Lord at regular intervals of Harry’s long life, was to make sure that the environment that gave birth to these figures itself was addressed.

That was a long-er term goal. To address the issues in Magical Societies as a whole that led to powerful people gathering followers rapidly, creating a situation where many Magical nations lived in a state of constant fracture, always wondering which faction would give birth to the next uber powerful wizard who would gain a lot of following and try to impose their will on the world using force.

After all, if peaceful change is impossible, then violence is inevitable.

The shorter term goal was to dispatch Tommy Boy, but to do it in a manner that did not leave the credit and the blame at Harry’s feet. Harry might be too young to know or care about the pitfalls of celebrity status, especially for doing something as notorious as killing the Dark Lord not once but twice, but he was aware of the fate that would befall Harry if the entire world credited him for Tommy Boy’s permanent downfall.

The magical world would just remain as is, now instead centering around Harry instead of Dumbles and Tommy Boy. That was not a fate he wanted for his brother. He had to be free to do as he pleased, and he wouldn't be able to do that if he was to the world, an unbearable wizard, someone who survived the unsurvivable not once but twice.

He had to be powerful, yes, but not too much. Balance was key here. Plus, if Harry was the focus of Magical Britain’s powerful gossip engine, it would not take long for them to realise that something was wrong with Harry. The differences between him piloting Harry’s body and Harry doing it would be easily identifiable over the long term.

After all, neither he nor Harry had the acting chops necessary to pull that off whilst being under the lens of an entire country. On top of that, there was also the matter of Harry creating a body for him.

Sure, all he knew of were dark rituals to accomplish that, but that was right now. Over time, once he had access to the necessary libraries and materials, he could find out if there was any alternative method. If not, he might have to go ahead with Tommy’s original ritual, after checking if it would have any adverse effects on Harry or not.

After all, a sure fire way for magical Britain to turn on their Lord and Savior, Harry Potter, was to see him dabbling in illegal Dark Rituals. It would give him exactly zero of the peaceful life he had planned for the brat.

There would be no lifetime strife here. No, sir. Not on his watch.

Exhaling, he noted the immediate goals and went back to the Dursleys, to sleep. The body should be resting or atleast not physically moving for alteast a couple of hours a day for Harry to feel well rested, both in mind and body.

Only this time, instead of doing his usual thing, which was just read as Harry slept, he chose to retreat into the soulscape as well, not finding it within him to continue reading mundane books when he was going to face multiple magical walls, some of them named Dumbledore and Hogwarts.

Hopefully, his mother’s spell masked his existence. Else, say goodbye, Barry…

…..

…

……F*ck that!

He exclaimed in his mind, the thought of withering away, leaving Harry unguided lighting up a fire under him. He immediately retreated into his soulscape and began thinking furiously, trying to come up with a way to make sure that nothing happened to him.

So far, he hadn't done anything to get out from under Dumbledore's thumb, mostly because it would have been either exceedingly hard or just plain not worth it.

Dumbledore had the necessary pull required to get him back from any country he was in, both political and magical. Financial pull from Dumbledore was unnecessary because Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, would just push the entire Ministry to make sure the Golden Boy of Britain was brought back home. They would probably use the guise of guiding him or rescuing him to make sure his wishes went unheard.

That left him with either having to live underground all his life, and risk letting the events of canon unfold in an uncontrollable manner, leading to Harry having to live his whole life looking over his shoulder, wary of either Dumbledore or Voldemort showing up, one to take control of his life and the other to end his life. Or, he could go to the very few places on the planet that accepted magical pupils and did not care much about Dumbledore’s authority.

The only caveat there was that they were all Dark oriented countries, schools, and the people running them were also Dark Wizards. That will be…hard. He would have been fine, but subjecting Harry to that? Out of question.

That left him with having to attend Hogwarts, but in a way that made sure that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to subject him to anything based on the soul shard in Harry’s head. Sure, he might not even detect or care about it, assuming that the shard was Voldemort’s soul shard, but just in case, a couple of deterrents wouldn’t hurt.

If he was currently piloting Harry’s body, the grin on his face would have scared the pants off the Dursley family, as it would have been that of a devil, on a kid’s face.

Total nightmare material.

Thankfully, he was benevolent enough to never subject the non magicals with magical nightmares. It would be too cruel, especially since in this timeline, he hadn’t given them the time necessary for them to escalate. He’d read Petunia’s thoughts.

She had stopped herself from doing anything visible to Harry, out of fear that the wizards would come to check on him regularly, only intending to escalate if no one came. In her mind, that was proof that no one wanted the freak and thus had been left to their tender mercies.

They should be thankful that he prevented that future from coming into effect because if he gained awareness of Harry’s body even a year later, there would have been no Dursley family left to speak of, the Blood Wards be damned.

___xx__

The next morning, Harry was shoved back in the passenger seat as he walked down the stairs, watching as Vernon and Petunia both stiffened, both clutching their respective newspaper and magazine tighter as he passed them and just entered the kitchen.

He leaned on the kitchen top, looking as both of them just stayed frozen, as the sounds of pots and pans being cleaned and then being used echoed in the living room, as the kitchen was not fully enclosed.

They were afraid because he didn't really engage with them these days. Vernon and Petunia paid for everything months in advance, without having to prompt them. They kept Dudley in line. They stocked everything in advance, sometimes doubly so just so he wouldn't talk to them.

He made his own food, cleaned everything, washed his own clothing, ironed them on his own, cleaned his own room, went to school on his own, came home on his own, had no need for them to trend any meetings as his grades were perfect, did not have any altercations with anyone at school(visibly anyway), and all around was the ghost they much rather prefer he be.

In their view, he was just a ghost who lived in the upstairs bedroom, and they only had to spend the money that was already supplied to them monthly on Harry’s necessities and obediently leave the rest in a box fixed right next to his door.

After all, Dumbledore, perhaps not knowing just how much was required to raise a child without any extravagance, wildly overestimated the amount and gave them a monthly amount that was ten times what he actually needed.

It was quite the pocket money he got, but he felt zero guilt since this wasn’t actually Vernon’s own money. Hell, he gave them man rent for his bedroom, so he didn’t see why they were so afraid of him? Especially since he hadn’t done anything to them for over a year now.

Either way, he was down here and not in school for a reason. Walking over, he sat at the same table as them, his breakfast floating behind him.

The sight of floating dishes only made Petunia whimper as he took a slow bite of his sandwich.

“So,” He said, forcing both of them to finally address him, as they lowered their respective print media, “I got a letter last night.” Both of them went even more rigid at that.

He snapped his fingers; the letter appeared on the table, both of them leaning away from the letter as if it was poisonous.

“It is from Hogwarts. I have already written the reply and accepted the admission. Now, I have to gather a few things from the magical district. Don’t worry, though, I can manage that on my own. I just need you to tell Ms.Aldrin that I am sick for a few days. Okay?” He said in a cheerful tone, completely ignoring their fear of him.

“O-Okay,” Petunia squeaked out, as he nodded, finished his sandwich calmly, washed it down with a freshly squeezed orange juice glass, and after cleaning his dishes, walked up to his bedroom. 

Just as he closed the bedroom door, a small voice spoke up from within his soulscape, “Why are you so mean to them?”

He sighed. “Because they were mean to you.”

“Okay…but we are leaving anyway. Don't you think we should be nice to them on our last days here?”

He replied in amusement, “So you’ve accepted my proposal of never returning here after this?”

“Ofcourse!” Harry replied with clear childish excitement in his voice, the hook that was traveling the world and experiencing new places sinking into Harry’s childish mind.

To be honest, the Blood Wards might actually be useful in keeping them hidden, but he did not think living under constant threat was a good thing for Harry. Plus, the way he could wield magic meant there were probably only a handful of wizards in Britain who could defeat him right now, let alone when he finally had a wand and the necessary magical education to make sense of all this magical data he had in his mind.

Tommy boy was not able to become a magical powerhouse solely because of his heritage. He was a magical genius, and while the genius might have been aimed wrong, the genius was there, and some results of that same genius now rested in his mind, and he would make sure that the fruits of all that research were aimed at the people who came after Harry.

After all, if there was no corpse, no witness, and no magical residue, how were they going to convict Harry if they didn't even know where he was?

“Alright, wanna see Diagon Alley?”

“YES!”

He smiled at Harry’s reply as they got out of the house, and after wrapping Harry’s body in a perception altering field, simply walked into a bus. This not being peak time, he was able to easily reach the nearest bus stop.

Time to take the first step into Magical Britain.

“Yes! Beware the Twin Potters~! Our magic knows no bounds!”

He smiled fondly at the jingle Harry clearly came up with on the spot, shaking his head as he walked into Tom’s bar.

___xx___

“Woah!” Harry exclaimed in his mind as he too did the same, making sure he did not gather too much attention as he made a beeline towards the first step any self insert into a Potter family should.

Gringotts.

The goblins were a little smaller than him but they were seats high up, likely to show power over their customers, which was stupid since a good banking experience should also include good manners but then again, he supposed that having a monopoly on banking would allow you to do whatever fancied the goblins.

“Excuse me. I need to get the Potter Family key. I am the rightful owner, and I need a key replacement.” The Goblin didn’t look at him for a few seconds after that, continuing whatever it was that he was doing there that he could not see.

Finally, after a while, the Goblin replied in a gruff voice, “20 Galleons.”

“Take it from the vault after you identify me.”

“That will be extra.”

“How much?”

“50 Galleons.”

“Nope. 30.”

The Goblin clearly paused at his work, before leaning forward to look down on him even more. “You are mistaken, child. We do not negotiate at Gringotts.”

He grinned back, “You will if you wish for me to continue doing business with you.”

“Where else will you go?”

“Who knows. Maybe the Dwarves can handle it better? Or the Gnomes could–”

“You dare?!” The Goblin practically hissed at him, coming uncomfortable close, almost dangling from his platform. All he did in response was raise an eyebrow, unbothered.

In reality, it was a gamble and a fun one at that, even as he ignored the fear he could feel from Harry at seeing an Angry Goblin for the first time. It would seem that he had become some sort of adrenaline junkie.

With the unprotected flight experiment, then late night shenanigans all around the city, pranking citizens and police alike, and now this.

The Goblin then went back to his place before speaking in a much calmer voice, “I can do 45 and nothing less.”

“I see. Any hidden fees I should be aware of?”

The Goblin grinned at him, “You ask a lot of questions for someone who hasn’t yet proven himself to be the Potter Scion.”

“Lead the way, then.”

After a rather short magic and blood test, something he requested be given back to him, the equipment as well, just in case the Goblins were capable of hoarding blood for anything nefarious- he was now the proud owner of a Vault Key, giving him a huge leg up in the magical world.

After all, Financial independence was the first step. All independence could be derived from it.

He smiled as the Goblins grumbled about losing their requirement, despite charging him an exorbitant amount of money for it. Well, the only reason they agreed was because he insisted on it being destroyed. He was not going to take it home from them, and the way he did that was yet another way he gained their compliance. After all, watching an 11 year old wizard kid raise his hand and flick a finger at the gathered equipment and watching it melt to goo was a sight that would make any Goblin treat him with sufficient wariness and respect.

After all, there were already multiple rumours running in the market about him doing feats of magical strength that would be impossible even for someone like Dumbledore, so if one was added by the Goblins, it wouldn’t really matter.

Especially since he had plans to make sure the world saw him as just a slightly stronger wizard, so a couple of injuries were in the future, a plan that Harry vehemently opposed, making sure to make his displeasure known by ordering him to suffer through the pain and only give the control back when the pain was completely gone.

Which was a fair deal in his opinion. He didn’t really expect Harry to understand everything about his plan, but as long as he was willing to trust and listen to him, Harry should come out on top of everything.

Or, so he hoped. He was not a master strategist or something, just someone who knows about how this world works because of both his meta knowledge and Tommy boy’s partial memories.

They made the ride down, which had far more ups and downs than a regular roller coaster, but having been flying in London in a far more threatening manner, neither he nor Harry reacted to the deliberate power trip that the Goblin was trying to subject him to.

His disappointed face was quite the sight to witness as he reached their vault. It was a big door, made of old metal, embedded into the walls that felt more alive than anything else.

Taking a step forward, he clutched the key tightly in his hand but didn’t take the final step. He had no idea if the vault had something else as an identification mechanism, so he let Harry do it.

Spoiler: there was none. It was just the key as the sole obstacle between someone and the Potter vault. Then again, the Goblins were also one such obstacle, but he just felt like there should have been something more than just a physical key.

Where were the Blood wards? The Soul scans? The Guardian spirit of the Vault who would personally make sure that only Heir Potter could access the vault?

He supposed that fanon had created unrealistic expectations within him.

The vault doors closed behind him as he beheld the Potter Vault, and noted a few things.

For one, there was far less gold than he expected.

Secondly, no magical sword, portrait, hat, or any other magical artefact. Just a small chest that likely had more gold and cleanly laid out piles of gold, silver, and Galleons. 

So, just money, which was fine, but he just expected…more.

He shrugged, hiding his disappointment as he opened the chest, his eyes widening as he found…

“Books?” “YES!”

Harry’s confused question and his rather spirited exclamation rang out in the Vault as he found the treasure that was far more valuable than the gold and silver here.

Guide to Sacrificial Magic - Lily Potters

“What is it?”

“That, my dear brother, is the answer to some of my questions.”

Word Count - 5031