Harry Potter twinfic commission

So This was a short commission I was tasked with. Massive AU; as you'll notice, and Harry has a twin sister. There's only one chapter of this but I think it would be a fun read anyway. Might also be a quality check for people who are thinking about commissioning me. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Fated intersections

Harry idled through the city of colourful tents that made up the grounds for the quidditch world cup. He enjoyed the relative anonymity that was offered to him by being a part of the indistinguishable mass of fans, here to support either Bulgaria, or Ireland. Whenever he was out in public he either had to greet any Hogwarts student he recognized, or was ambushed by a reporter asking him either about his father's new policy proposal at the Wizengamot, or his decision to apply for an early NEWT exam in transfiguration.

"Aren't you afraid of walking around alone like that?" a voice asked him from the side once he'd stumbled into a more quiet part of the campgrounds, which seemed to be filled with mostly Indian magicals, calmly enjoying their lunches and sipping tea to stay warm in the chilly British weather.

Turning to see who'd spoken to him, Harry saw that it was an older man with an orange ornamental turban and similarly orange robes, albeit in an oriental cut, who seemed to be standing watch over the camp-site.

It was perhaps due to the man's quite impressive magical presence that more rowdy fans hadn't bothered swarming it, as they did all other spots which had more than one square metre of free space. Harry closed his eyes to feel more closely, but opened them again quickly when a bright flash originating from the man blinded his magical sight, leaving him slightly dazed.

"I know you Western Magical Alliance members are obsessed with having the most powerful magic, but maybe you should consider if such brave testing is considered rude in other parts of the world," the man warned genially, while Harry blinked the metaphorical stars away.

"Sorry," the sixteen-year old mumbled and awkwardly scratched at the back of his head, tousling his already chaotic black mop of hair. "It's a bit of an instinct when meeting someone new."

"I'm glad to have provided some much needed education then," the Indian said with a flash of white teeth.

"You're all quidditch fans?" Harry asked curiously, wanting to leave his lapse of culture knowledge behind. He looked at the group, which looked like it was made up of mostly men in their twenties or thirties. A fitting demographic for quidditch fans, really. Most of them were wearing orange, as they sat and ate in a circle in the middle of their large white pagoda-like tents. "You must be, if you went through the bother of getting a visa."

"Ah, no. I'm afraid quidditch is not that popular in India, but disliking the British is. A remnant of our past muggle relations seeding over into the magical community. Although, your current minister isn't giving you the best image abroad either, I'm afraid. We're just here to see the Irish lose."

Harry grimaced at the mention of Minister Riddle, but had to force out a laugh at the last part. "Well, muggle relations seeding over into the magical community. I don't think most Irish would appreciate being called British."

Man and boy chuckled together, before the former spoke again. "Best be on your way boy, the match is starting soon," the Indian said, and Harry left with a polite nod, not quite knowing what to think of the interaction.

The match was still hours away. It was clear that Harry had just been unwelcome. Not a feeling he was that used too. Being a Hogwarts student, especially a talented one, usually meant that doors opened, rather than closed. Unless you took into consideration his blood-status of course, but it wasn't like Indians would have a reason to care about either.

He didn't know much about the continent and their magical society to be honest. The WMA didn't have the best international relationships, but he did know that they lived much more closely with their muggle counterparts than most.

Thoughts of politics fled his mind as he re-entered the jubilant crowd and allowed himself to be carried away to his family's tent in a more calm part of the camping grounds.

Walking into the sections, past the red-robed aurors who stood grimly at attention, marking the end of the crowd and the start of an aristocratic seclusion, Harry entered the lion-themed tent that stood just at the edge of the campground meant for those with a bit more standing.

"Why do we have to come early to stay in a stupid tent," Iris said to their mother from her position sprawled out on the couch, while Lily was reading a book in front of the fire-place. It wasn't really something he understood, considering that it was summer and the tent had regulated temperature anyway, but his mother said that it added to the atmosphere.

Not that she would get much peace to read once Iris started complaining. Something that seemed clear to both son and mother, as the latter put down her book with a sigh to run a hand through the luscious red-hair she shared with Iris. "Because, it's tradition for the hosting family to impress with their elaborate tents and to be present through the night to accompany all the international guests who need to recover for their return-portkey," she explained, probably for the fifth time. "Because me being a muggle-born means that house Potter needs to try twice as hard if it's to  be considered anything but an ancient name sullied by blood-traitors."

"Dumbledore is a half-blood," Iris complained, irreverently bringing up the name of one of the most powerful men in the world. Harry rolled his eyes and gently slapped his clearly dumber twin on the head as he walked past her on the golden carpet to occupy his own armchair. She jumped up into a sitting position, throwing him a glare with the green-eyes also embedded in his skull.

"I'm sure people won't care about your blood-status when you become as magically powerful as Dumbledore either. So maybe you should be working on your shaping exercises instead of complaining, there's more to magic than just blowing stuff up, you know," he said with a sigh as he leaned back and activated the massage function, letting the enchantments work on his not so sore and not so existing muscles.

Iris brought up a palm and formed a white glowing ball to hover on top of it, laboriously and with a pinched face she formed it into a misshapen fist, which then extended its middle finger towards Harry.

"Good job," the boy taunted, "a bit more practice and you might manage to make a functioning thumb next time."

Leaving Iris fuming he turned to his mom, "Where's dad? He said we'd finally talk about the animagus transformation now that I'm signed up for my early transfiguration NEWT."

"No," his sister interrupted, "he said he'd show me how to defend against transfiguration now that I'm signed up for the duelling tournament," she hissed, narrowing her eyes at Harry.

Lily stood up. She walked, green robes swishing to the book-shelf where she deposited her riveting read 'the muggle diplomacy regulations of the WMA.' Turning to her children she put her hands on her hips.

"You know, considering you two only spend three months a year together in the same country, you really should try to get along more," she chided, causing the two siblings to throw each other heated looks. Once their mom felt the need to say something, the argument was over.

Didn't mean they would suddenly start dancing in a circle and braiding flowers in each other's hair. No matter if their parents loved to bring up a photo from their youth where they were doing just that.

The flap of their tent made a sound, and the missing piece of the family puzzle entered the room. Not too tall, not too short and with brown hair, James Potter didn't cut a very intimidating figure. He nevertheless managed to fill a room with his presence whenever he deigned to enter it. Representing the main political opposition in the country, along with being the head of the aurors would do that to a man, Harry guessed.

"They're giving you trouble again, Lily?" James asked with a frown as he beheld the scene of his wife looking disappointedly at the twins she'd pushed out of her, only for the two of them to waste her time and prevent her from reading in peace.

"I did not!" Harry and Iris said at the same time, giving their father their most innocent expressions, before turning to glare at each other.

"When will you start teaching me the animagus transformation?" Harry asked at the same time as Iris made her own demand.

"The duelling tournament is in a month, we have to practise," Iris said, pointing to somewhere with her arm, presumably to Oxford, where the British duelling championship would take place this year. The under 18s would serve as a warm-up for the viewers, before they got to see the real thing, and the top four would be seeded into the WMA duelling tournament, along with four young duellists from every other country that was a part of it.

"Quite frankly," James said in a stern voice, "it will have to wait until tomorrow. There have been some security concerns for the tent block we're in and I'm considering us leaving early."

"James," Lily said with a sigh as she sidled up to her husband. They shared a look full of affection, before getting a grip again. "We have to stay."

The man sighed and slowly shook his head. "I'm starting to lose faith, Riddle is just too influential. It might not matter soon anymore with the amount of support he's gaining by so fearlessly speaking out against Voldemort."

"Is the security concern about the knights of Walpurgis?" Harry asked, with some interest. While the knights of Walpurgis were a terrorist group, they fought for what was right, namely, muggle liberation. "It's not like they'd do anything to us, you're Britain's biggest promoter of muggle integration," he reasoned.

"Don't glorify terrorists, their approach is inherently flawed," James bit out while dragging a hand down his face. "Also, with how many unintentional casualties they cause on what's supposedly their own side, and the chaos that follows in their wake, I don't think we're any safer than the Malfoys this time." A rush of emotions ran through the man's face.

"You'll leave after the match, through the floo. I'll stay. We can just say we were present but didn't join the festivities. There's a reason we have a fire-place in this tent," he decided.

"James," Lily started warningly, "no!" She pointed at Harry, at Iris, at herself, and then used the finger she'd used to do that to poke her husband in the chest. He probably didn't feel it through the enchantments of his auror robes, but he recoiled slightly nonetheless. "We're a family," she argued. "Why would you even stay behind? You'd be obligated to defend this area in particular. Quite frankly, there's no one here worth saving. Are you going to pull Lucius out of the fire, jump in front of a killing curse meant for Bellatrix, maybe even Crouch?" she asked in a low-tone.

The patriarch of the family was clearly conflicted, as was seen very easily on his face. It was paradoxically what made him a good politician. The genuineness. His sense of duty and morality could be clear for all to see. Ally and foe alike. However, while these qualities made him a good auror, they also made him a horrible father in a world beset on all sides by darkness and inequality. "I swore my vows when I became an auror. I'll protect this country, magicals and muggles alike. We stay," he decided, but looked diminished for doing so.

"James," Lily whispered with her head hung low, before cursing. "Bugger Dumbledore and fuck Grindelwald for creating this mess! Now they're too indecisive or too lost in their own hare-brained schemes to fix it."

"You shouldn't say things like that," James hissed, while looking around fearfully, as if someone could have penetrated their wards to listen in on their conversation.

"Bugger them?" Iris asked. "Weren't they lovers? That means they're buggering each other anyway, no?"

Harry pulled a disgusted face and threw a horrified look at his sister. "Please, don't go there. They're over a hundred years old, both of them. I don't need that image in my head," he pleaded.

"What, really," the young red-head teased with a wolfish smirk on her face, "you don't want to image Dumbledore parting his long beard so that he can take Grindelwald's hard, long, coc-" was as far as she got before her own mother hit her with a silencing charm.

Unfortunately for Harry, who was facing the miscreant, he could lip-read her next words. Growing up with a twin really was horrible sometimes.

"Iris," James said. "That's bloody disgusting. I sincerely hope you didn't learn how to speak like that in Durmstrang, or I might just remove your enrollment," he threatened, causing the girl's eyes to widen and for her to start silently defending herself.

"They all speak German there anyway," Harry muttered. "It's obviously her own deranged mind that came up with that horrible sentence," he finished and watched his sister pull out her wand to dispel the silencing charm.

"I can't stop going to Durmstrang now, Headmaster Snape just started personally tutoring me last year," Iris complained.

"Your dad wasn't serious, honey. But mind your mouth, please. It's going to get you in trouble one day," Lily said hypocritically with a long-suffering sigh, went over to her daughter, almost a mirror-image of herself, and tousled her hair.

"We're in our own tent, under wards, amongst family," Iris complained.

"You never know who might be listening," James interjected. "Also, what you practise in private will eventually find its way into the public. Anyway, we've dallied enough, it's about time we go watch the game," the father of the family said with a pep in his step. Quidditch was one of the few things that he got excited about these days. His job and political career seemed to add one grey hair a day.

It's why Harry played for the Gryffindor quidditch team, even if he didn't like the sport that much.It was something that got his parents to come to Hogwarts to spectate and cheer for him. They'd ominously said that this school year he maybe wouldn't have time for Quidditch, but Harry wasn't sure that his sixth year would be that bad. Especially with him having signed up to get the transfiguration NEWT out of the way early.

He perked up when he saw that his parents were walking towards the fire-place, not the entrance of their tent. "Wait, are we flooing?" he said, slightly panicked.

"It's one of the few privileges that makes buying the top box tickets actually worth it," James said. "You don't want to walk there, do you? Through tens of thousands of people all squeezing through a few entrances and then having to walk up all those stairs to their seats. I'll remind you that the stadium is the equivalent of a twenty-story building."

"But-" Harry started, before being cut off.

"He just wants to try and see his girlfriend, it's why he took that walk earlier," Iris interrupted with a roll of her eyes.

Harry blushed and refused to meet the eyes of his parents, which both zeroed in on him the moment the G-word dropped.

"Oh, baby, you could have just invited her to our tent, we could have all met her" Lily crooned, while James puffed up proudly with a dreamy look on his face.

"That's why I didn't," Harry muttered quietly. He didn't really want to be called a baby in front of the girl he was dating. Especially since she was older than him and held that over his head occasionally.

"Do we get to find out the name of this mystery girl?" James asked curiously, while Lily barely managed to hide her excitement. Scratch that, she wasn't even trying. She was twirling a strand of her long red hair in a finger, as if she was hanging out with her friends listening to gossip.

James looked at Iris after Harry didn't answer, but the girl just shrugged. "He didn't tell me."

"I think it's now quite obvious why," Harry bit out with a glare. "Her name is Cho, by the way," he eventually admitted.

Iris shrugged again, obviously not knowing who that was. But James' eyes lit up. "Isn't that the Ravenclaw seeker?" he asked excitedly. "She's good," he commented, "not as good as my son, obviously. Would be a nice story though, rivals in sports, lovers in private. I think the last time I saw something like that was when Bagman was still a handsome young beater..."

"You mean last century?" Iris joked.

Done with her particular brand of humour Harry spoke up.

"Let's just go, I can see her after the cup," he said with a groan and stood up to go grasp some of the green floo-powder. "What's the address?" he asked.

"So now you want to floo, when it means running away from a conversation with your loving family?" his sister asked, feigning hurt.

“Top box 4,” James said idly, and before any of his family could stop him Harry stepped towards the fire-place, took a pinch of floo-powder and threw it in the fires. They turned green and he stepped into them.

“Top box 4,” he said, just as James jumped forward with wide eyes and an outstretched arm to pull him back.

“Don’t-” Harry heard his dad say, before he was pulled away in a swirl of colours and noises and impressions.

The journey lasted barely a second, but it was enough to sufficiently destabilise Harry that when he exited the floo on the other side, he tripped and sprawled out on the wooden floor of a large corridor.

He quickly scrambled to his feet, blushing from embarrassment and looked around himself to double-check that no one had seen him fall.

It seemed empty, he thought to himself, but froze when the fire-place next to the one he’d come out from flared and a tall dark form exited elegantly, not missing a step. Green eyes locked with blue and minister Riddle walked past Harry with a small incline of his head.

“Heir Potter,” the man said quietly, his voice nonetheless filling the entire space.

Harry bowed his head. “Minister Riddle,” he muttered.

They parted like that, James emerging out of the green fire behind Harry not a second after, somewhat fearfully looking at the already distant form of the minister as he came over to berate his son.

Three people filled the corridor in that split-second. Two of which were fated to die before this story reached its conclusion.