Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but any ocs and general plot distortions that you don't recognise (I can't exactly claim the twin!fic as original) are pretty much mine.

Chapter One

Albus apparated onto the pavement with a faint crack, years of using the technique allowing him to dull the sound of his arrival. A moment later James and Lily Potter appeared beside him, their own announcement a much sharper sound that carried in the evening air, but the couple did not care for that. Instead, their eyes were riveted to the building before them, faces pale and drawn. Albus sighed and he also took a moment to examine the institution.

The building was a grim place; three stories of grey walls in a uniform rectangle, sloping roof a darker shade, and the windows were few and small. A high fence of black bars encircled the building, their tips curving inwards to as to dissuade any possible escapes, and though there was an area of grass between fence and building it was brown and dry in the summer heat. Despite the depressing atmosphere it was in a good state of repair; no rubbish littering the ground, no signs of vandalism or the like. Still, the overall impression of the place was that it was not one you entered light-heartedly.

Albus managed an encouraging smile when the Potters looked to him for guidance, though the twinkle was noticeably absent from his eyes. "Let us not keep young Harry waiting," he said gently, waiting for their nods before striding towards the gate. There was a small metal box attached to a thicker bar with a small button on it, which he pressed.

After a moment of silence a crackling comes from the box, and a voice said, "Please state your name and business."

"Albus Dumbledore, Lily Potter and James Potter, here to visit Hadrian Avaric," he said, barely hesitating over the name. It was one that he'd only recently begun to associate with Harry Potter, the boy he'd been trying to find for the better part of eight years, ever since the Dursleys had first been noticed missing. Search efforts had dwindled out in recent years when previous attempts proved fruitless, and Albus and the Potters had all but given up. They'd hoped when Harry turned eleven that his Hogwarts letter would reveal his location, but his birthday came and went with no letter ever being written by the enchanted quill. The Potters had grieved the son they'd never known, assuming him dead, and Albus had reluctantly accepted his failure to keep the younger Potter twin alive. It was only through a stroke of pure luck that they'd realised their mistake.

"Please come to the reception," the female voice said dully, and there was a beep from the metal gate. Albus pushed it open and made his way towards the institution's doors, the Potters trailing behind him. The reception was much more welcoming than the outside of the building, with walls painted a pale cream and a dark wooden floor. There were several chairs along one wall and a table with an assortment of magazines, and on the other wall was a television which was currently switched off. In each corner was a camera that swivelled to get a full view of the room. Albus walked towards the desk directly ahead of him, where a young woman with black hair in a tight bun sat behind a computer. The badge on her blouse said that she was L .Gibson.

Miss Gibson glanced up at them when they entered, blue eyes examining them as they approached her desk. Albus was wearing a pale lavender suit with a green tie, whilst the Potters had dressed more conservatively, Lily in a dark blue blouse and grey skirt, James in black trousers and white buttoned up shirt. Miss Gibson blinked at them before shaking her head with a soft snort, though she maintained a sceptical look. "I've looked at Mr. Avaric's file and there's no mention of any visitors coming today. Or ever," she added in a mutter that just barely reached Albus' ears.

He smiled genially at her. "I am the headmaster of a boarding school. Mr. Avaric has a place at my school, you see, and I am here to discuss this with him."

She frowned, glancing at the file displayed on her computer. "I don't think that will be possible. He's on the most secure level we have, and- oh," her face took on a greenish tinge as her eyes flickered across the screen, before she swallowed thickly. "I-I really don't think it's a good idea for him to leave any time soon."

James shifted nervously, but Albus continued to smile. "I assure you, Mr. Avaric has been registered for my school since he was born. Whatever the circumstances, we will accept him."

"You don't understand," she said irritably, though the hint of fear was still there. "You can't take him. He's here, in a juvenile detention centre, for a reason. His psychiatrist says that he hasn't made any progress with him, and I highly doubt your school has the facilities needed to keep him under control. Besides, you can't take him without some sort of official authorisation."

Seeing that he could not persuade the young woman with words, Albus pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to here. "I think that this will clear up everything," he said. Confused, Miss Gibson looked at the paper, and the compulsion he'd placed on it quickly took hold. Her eyes lost focus for a few seconds before she blinked back into reality, though she remained dazed. "Hadrian Avaric is being transferred to another facility that can better care for his needs."

"Of course," she said, somewhat dreamily as she typed, "I'll call someone to take you to him."

A few minutes later a man walked through a door to their right, having to unlock it before he did so. He was quite tall and muscular, face harsh and observing as he made his way over to them. He scowled when Albus greeted him, grumbling out that his name was Ben Elliott and to follow him. Albus strode alongside the irate man, unaffected by his standoffish air, and attempted to strike up a conversation. "Do you know Mr. Avaric well?"

Ben scoffed, scowl deepening. "Everyone knows Avaric. He's practically famous, down here."

"Perhaps you could tell me a little about him?"

Ben gave him a suspicious look before shrugging. "He was in America when they caught him, but they found an English passport on him so he got sent here. The security guards don't get told what the bastards do to get in, just how dangerous they are, and Avaric's as bad as they come. It'd be better if we just kept him in his room all the time in my opinion, but we have to let him out for meals and lessons if he hasn't done anything recently. Kid's damn smart, from what I've seen, but ain't too interested in learning."

Albus' smile gradually fell with every word, but he let none of his wariness show on his face. "Does he have many friends?"

Ben choked out a harsh laugh. "Friends? Avaric?" He asked incredulously, shaking his head. "The boys may've been stupid enough to get in here, but they've got good instincts. They know to stay away. Doesn't stop half of 'em from worshiping him though."

"Worship?" James repeated in alarm. "Why would they do that when he's-" he cut himself off.

The guard scoffed at him. "This isn't some fluffy playground, and these aren't innocent little kiddies. They've fucked up in some way – theft, assault, arson, murder; there's allsorts in here. Most've them stay the hell outa Avaric's way, but a lot of them admire him for what he did. Like he's some sorta artist and they're his fans. Don't know how they found out about it – probably one of their visitors told 'em – but they all know. He's dangerous, and the bastards like that."

Unsure what to say, the three magic-users followed Ben as he lead them up a couple of flights of stairs. "We keep the worst ones at the top," he explained, unlocking another door to get into the corridor. "So that if they break out of their rooms we've got more of a chance of stoppin' them." A guard in the same grey uniform as Ben was stalking down the corridor and the two exchanged nods as they passed. On either side of them were numerous white doors, matching the stark white of the walls, with numbers posted by each door. It was a lot less friendly than the reception area, and the utter silence was eerie. "Used to be there was always a right racket up here," Ben said. "But Alaric said they were being too noisy, that it was irritating him. They shut up right quick."

Ben stopped in front of a door that was a lot thicker than the previous ones, made of metal rather than wood. There were no small windows like the previous doors had, just a thin slot at eyelevel that had to be slid open, and one at waist height. At their curious looks Ben said, "He broke down his last door – don't know how, he's a bloody stick – so we moved him to a more secure one." He hesitated, watching them for a moment, before saying, "You sure you wanna see him? He doesn't look like much, but there's a reason the others are terrified of him, even if we don't have any proof. Taylor was a right psycho, but he wasn't into torturing himself no matter what the report says happened, and then there was Goldings…" he trailed off, a disturbed expression on his face.

"Goldings?" Albus prodded, trying to ignore the swirl of dread. Was Harry another Tom Riddle, or…perhaps worse? No, that couldn't be right. Like the man said, there was no evidence Harry had done anything. No son of James and Lily Potter could possibly be so cruel. The lad was probably just traumatised; he'd been in the care of a serial killer for several years, after all.

That was how they'd found him at last. One of the Order of the Phoenix had family in America, and had gone to visit them when she'd seen an old newspaper – one of the boys collected them – and spotted Harry's picture on the front page. It was a sketch from a court proceeding, photos kept out of the media since Harry was a child, but there was no mistaking the peculiar scar and the eyes the reporter had described as "an eerie emerald green". It had been worth investigating, and they'd tracked Harry down to this institute with the intention of immediately taking him home and introducing him to the wizarding world. By September he would be going to Hogwarts as a second year student, whilst private tutors would aim to catch him up over the summer. Albus only hoped it would run smoothly despite Harry's past, and that he would not waste the second chance Albus was giving him.

"It happened just after Avaric arrived," Ben answered uneasily, staring at the thick metal door with a glazed look of remembrance. "Goldings was a thief, pretty much compulsively, and a damned good one too. But then he tried to get something of Avaric's, a pen or something stupid like that, and before we could even move Avaric had crushed his neck – wrapped his tiny hand around it and just crushed it. Broke his spine too – kid was dead instantly," he shook his head slowly, "I've seen some shit, but that? That's not even human."

Albus didn't have to look at the Potters to see that their faces had gone white, whilst he himself had to steady his shaking hands. He reminded himself that Harry was just a child, and had no idea what he was doing. Albus and the Potters would help to guide him, to make him see how hurting others was wrong. "We'd like to see him, if you don't mind," Albus said confidently, even as Ben shot him a dubious look.

"Whatever you say," the prison guard muttered before he rapped heavily on the door. Lily and James flinched at the loud sound as the metal echoed with the hit, blatantly disturbing the silence. "Hands," Ben stated dully as he slid the waist-height panel to the side. A moment later a pair of small, thin hands were placed though the gap, and Albus eyed the scarring across the back. They varied greatly; layered across the knuckles, a long winding cut on the right hand, several circular holes on the left. Disgust-tainted curiosity and sadness welled in him as he wondered what had caused such injuries.

Ben grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his belt and closed them around the wrists, which pulled back into the room once they were released. "Stand back from the door," Ben ordered, shutting the bottom panel before opening the eye height one and peering in. His eyes narrowed and there was a faint chuckle from the prisoner – Harry, Albus reminded himself with a frown – that brushed an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

"Is this really necessary?" Albus asked. Was the boy really so dangerous that he required to be bound in handcuffs? He was on twelve years old, and surely was no match for four adults, no matter how frail Albus appeared. To go to such extremes to contain a child…

Ben gave a grim smile. "Absolutely." Then he opened the door.

The room was small and sparse, stone walls bare and the light bulb caged to the ceiling the only source of light. To the right was a bed, or rather a slab of metal affixed to the wall covered by a thin mattress that, though perfectly clean, hardly offered much comfort. Opposite it a pile of battered books were stacked, spines broken with use and pages well-thumbed. And leaning against the back wall, considering them with bright green eyes and a crooked smile, was Harry Potter.

. . .

Lily drunk in the sight of her son hungrily – and she knew instantly that this was indeed her son, her Harry - tracing his form with attentive eyes. His hair was longer than James', tied back in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck whilst the rest hung freely around his face, but it held a hint of the Potter messiness in its waves. The eyes belonged to Lily in both shape and colour, if slightly lighter, the small pointed nose and heart-shaped face hers also. But his Black heritage lingered in the high cheekbones and sharp lines of his narrow jaw, the hint of the merged aristocratic bloodlines. She wondered why is was so strong in Harry when it was hardly as apparent in Matthew, but then for all that they were twins they had never really looked alike beyond brothers, even as babies.

She searched for the cheerful infant in the boy before her, tried to find the imagined child she'd built up in her head ever since hearing that he was alive, only to find she couldn't. His skin held a tan that even two years in the institute couldn't take away, nothing like the paleness he'd had when she last saw him, and though the features were familiar the way they fit together made them strange, a distortion of the face she'd imagined.

There was none of the naïve innocence clinging to his expression like she saw in other children, and though he was a beautiful child she couldn't help but think there was something ever so wrong with the way he watched them. There was none of the inquiring attention of a child meeting someone knew. No, the way he watched was like a predator stalking his prey, watching its every move in lazy anticipation until he finally grew bored and-

Lily viciously shook away her thoughts, dismissing them as the paranoia only war could cause. This was her son, her traumatised son who's been forced to do unspeakable acts by a man far fouler than many Death Eaters, even without magic at his disposal. He was hurt in a way far worse than any physical wound, and it was her duty as his mother to heal him. How could she blame him for doing something he had no choice in? Somewhere, she knew, he was still the smiling little boy she'd loved with all her heart. Eleven years of his life she had missed out on, eleven years she would never get back, but she'd be damned if she wasted any more time.

It was for his own safety that she'd left him at Petunia's. When she and James had heard of the prophecy they'd been overcome with horror, terrified that their babies would be targeted. In a war it was never safe to have children, especially not to parents as well known as the Potters, but the instant she'd realised she was pregnant she'd loved her children – the idea of killing them made her sick. The awe of the budding life inside her had taken hold and she'd shared this excitement with a stunned James, who in the typical reckless manner she'd come to love had declared that their children were just as entitled to live in this world as any other, war or not. They'd decided that they'd go into hiding whilst the children were young, sharing the knowledge with only their closest friends, and re-join the fight only when they knew their children were cared for. As much as Lily wanted to run away with James and their sons, hide from the threat and live their lives, she could never be content in letting her children grow up in a world orchestrated by Voldemort.

However, the prophecy changed everything. Her children had become immediate targets and so the moment they were born her family were hidden beneath the protection of a Fidelius charm. For one short year they'd lived in a paranoia-haunted peace, wands never far from hand even as they played with their sons, managing to find joy even in that dark time. She never could have imagined the betrayal that loomed, brought forth by one of their most trusted. It still left a bitter taste in her mouth, and an aching sadness when she recalled the man who had paid the price. Sirius Black had taken their place in death when he offered to look after the twins whilst Lily and James left to speak with Albus, and the sight of his lifeless body haunted Lily's nightmares.

Matthew, her oldest son, had been hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived minutes after they retrieved the crying boy and his silent brother from the rubble that had been their home. The killing curse had left a curving slice on his forehead, saturated in Dark magic, but other than that neither twin had been harmed. The relief at Voldemort's defeat had barely begun to spread when the Death Eaters, desperate and unorganised without their master, tried their hands at revenge. She'd underestimated their number and paid for it in a continuous stream of close calls as the Death Eaters doggedly tailed them, intent on killing the boy who'd destroyed their leader. And Lily decided that she couldn't endanger Harry this way, not when he wasn't even a target. She and James agreed that he would be safer away from them, hidden in the muggle world where no Dark wizard would think to look. But even that wouldn't be enough; there was still a chance he could be found. So she researched the most powerful protective magic she could find, eventually discovering Blood Wards. They would keep Harry safe from any who meant him harm, hide him from the Death Eaters and their allies, but as strong magic always did certain condition must be met. Harry would have to live with someone he was blood-related to, and as reluctant as she was Petunia was their only option. The Potters were few when the war started, and by its end James was the only one left, and Lily's only relative was her sister.

Lily had always mourned the destruction of her relationship with her sister, hating how Petunia's jealously twisted her into a bitter woman. They hadn't spoken since before Lily had gotten pregnant, but Lily hadn't doubted that Petunia would take in her son once she knew the danger they were in. She remembered that night, how shocked Petunia had looked when she handed over the sleeping Harry, how she'd explained as quickly as she could whilst darting looks over her shoulder into the dark night. She'd come alone so there was less of a chance of detection, leaving James to watch over Matthew. The blood wards were an intricate piece of magic, but her determination and innate talent had seen her through it even as she hastily explained their purpose to a gaping Petunia, how they would protect her family too, handing over a letter detailing the end of the war and the ensuing danger to Lily's children. The last glimpse she'd had of Harry was savoured, tears threatening to distort her vision, and with a desperate kiss to his forehead she'd left.

Two years passed before they were finally safe again, those who wished them harm behind bars or cowed away from taking action. The wizarding world had celebrated them as saviours even as they ran, and they'd been overwhelmed by their scrutiny before growing used to it, even enjoying it at times. Thoughts of getting Harry had been postponed under the weight of post-war reparations and the role the Potters were expected to pay, until Lily decided that it was better for Harry to remain in the anonymity of the muggle world, away from his twin's inevitable shadow and the demanding public, as much as it pained her to do so. And then he'd disappeared along with the Dursleys, and to her horror the panic was almost dull after so many years of separation, after getting used to the thought of only Matthew as her son. Search efforts, magical or not, revealed nothing of where he Dursleys had gone, Harry with them, and as years went by grief had replaced her hope, the surety of his death increasing until she finally gave in.

To see him now, alive, was nothing short of a miracle. She was determined to correct her mistake, to bond with the son who'd grown up without her. So it was with a warm smile that she stepped into the room, ignoring the way Harry's eyes narrowed or James's cautioning hand on her shoulder. Despite imagining this moment for so long she found herself at loss for words, and could only say with a sort of breathless awe, "Harry."

Harry's eyes focussed on her face, and she couldn't look away from the intense gaze as it examined her closely. It held a quality to it that made her freeze beneath his scrutiny with neither fear nor joy. She wanted to keep looking, to watch the boy she'd unwillingly given up when he was little more than a baby, but at the same time it almost pained her to do so. He didn't look like a child with eyes like that, she realised, finding it difficult to believe that he was barely twelve-years-old. They were haunted, broken in a way she was helpless to understand.

Then he smiled, a cruel twist of his mouth, and spoke in a voice unhindered by the stumbles of a young boy, smooth and horribly knowing. "Hello, Mother."

. . .

Not quite sure where I'm going with this fic, only that with my version of Harry and a vague plan of what he'll get up to it should be fun.

I don't know anything about juvenile centres so yeah expect inaccuracies. If you want an explanation I could cite that the HP world is different to our own, and with the addition of magical beings there are bound to be distortions in the muggle world too, i.e. harsher juvenile centres.

If it's not clear what happened to Harry between Lily dropping him off and his re-discovery, it's pretty much supposed to be. The general idea you're meant to get it that he goes to the Dursleys, something happens to them, he disappears and shows up in America several years later as the dubious 'assistant' to a mass murderer, and since he was found with an English passport he's sent to England to be dealt with (again, I know nothing of how law works, so inaccuracies abound!). He gets put in juvie where he pretty much terrorises everyone, until the Potters and Dumbledore show up. And that's all, folks!

Twin!Fics are a bit overdone, I know, I've even written another myself. However there is something attractive about taking a cliché and twisting it into something new. For example, I've got another twin!fic with living!Potters in the making, but the way the Potters react to Harry is completely different to how they are in this one. The characterisation of Harry plays a huge part in that as well, as you'll hopefully see if you keep reading. This won't be an abusive!evil!Potter fic either, since though many people pull it off a lot of the time it comes off as kind of ridiculous to me when you consider the canon characterisations of Lily and James. Not to say that they're going to have a lovey-dovey relationship of any sort – there's no way my version of Harry would allow that to happen. He's pretty cruel and twisted, as the next chapter gives an insight into.

Reviews are always appreciated, whether positive or negative, and they really do encourage me to keep writing. If you have any questions I'll answer to the best of my ability, and if you spot any errors left me know, though do keep in mind that any changes in canon may be intentional. Thanks for reading!