I took the idea of the story from Aikawa Akihiko's «Little Eleanor». I rewrote it almost entirely and I intend to finish it. I was so anxious from the rest of the story, but her's only a few chapters long. Please, go read her work !

"Twin Future"

Chapter One

Harry clutched his wand in his trembling hand. Whether the trembling was from the hunger that gnawed his insides, the pains his body hosted courtesy of his relatives, or the howling wind that pelted torrent of freezing rain on his head, he couldn't say.

Harry wasn't feeling very coherent at the moment. It was only the third week he had spent at the Dursley's. He refused to call them «family» or their house «home». Fleeting thoughts raced through his head. Famous quotes and sayings about home. Harry had no opinion on the validity of these sentences. His life had offered him little to no concrete example of home. Hogwart, maybe ? The Burrow ? For a moment, he felt the ghost sensation of wool against his skin. It was only a delusion of his feverish mind however. His Weasley jumpers were in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's. Pain licked his mind again.

The shadows danced with the wind, making fantastic shapes. He thought of grims, of Sirius, of falling. Curtains fluttering around the ark, moved by the murmurs of the dead. It lead to Grimmaud place. He shied away from this thought.

He ran. All he had was his wand and his determination. He couldn't stay with his relatives any more. With the news of Sirius's death, their hate had blossomed. They took very little pain to hide what they were doing from outsiders. The story of his imbalance was firmly established in the neighborhood, and nobody reacted to the sight of the slight boy from number 4, Privet Drive with bloody gashes or dark bruises. His list of chores had become so long, it was impossible to finish, therefore leading to regular beatings and very little food and drink.

He would probably die if he stayed any longer. Mentally, he was close to the edge. Physically, he was mostly numb, a sign that his magic was the only thing that kept him going, he knew. So, when aunt Petunia had decreed that he would spend the night outside, as a punishment for his failure to properly paint the fence, he had stood, frozen. The fact that his cousin Dudley had spilled the paint right in front of his mother a few seconds earlier was probably the last straw. He stood still until the dusk vanished under dark clouds. The storm began with a howling wind, then the rain came, heavy and cold.

Harry took a look around. He had ran some way, but between the dark of the night and his dizzying exhaustion, he didn't recognize the place. He tried to needed shelter.A place to think. Somewhere dry, warm, where he could sleep, eat and care for his injuries. He didn't think anything was broken, but he was pretty sure even his bones had bruises. And, how was it called ? He had heard Pomfrey speak of something like it. Something with hair. It was hard to concentrate. Hair...Hairline...Hairline fractures!

Anyway. He had his wand. He was too young to do magic in a muggle neighborhood without the Ministry breaking his wand. He didn't want people to be able to find him, either. So no magic, as magic would activate The Trace. McGonagall had warned him about it after First Year. It was useless! Just a powerless twig! Harry raised his wand above his head in an angry movement, as if to throw it.

BANG!

As soon as the wand had risen above his shoulder, before he could throw it away in anger, a large, purple, triple decked bus appeared in an awful racket. The Knight Bus! Harry was suddenly thankful and mumbled an apology to his holly wand under his breath. As the purple blur zoomed closer, Harry began to panic. His face was swollen and he couldn't see very well. No one would recognize him, but he had no money!

He heard the cherry voice of Stan Shunpike say something he couldn't distinguish over the howling of the wind. Harry took small, slow steps towards the bright rectangle he assumed was the door. He didn't know what to say or where to go. Even with his slow gait, he arrived near the light much too soon for his liking. Choked exclamations and questions greeted him. He mumbled something about being mobbed. Pitying noises were heard. A hand took his elbow and led him to one of the bed. As soon as he touched the soft bedding, he passed out.

Harry came to consciousness painfully, as someone shook his shoulder. The shaking awoke each and every one of his hurts in a cascade of pain. He thought Stan's voice said something about the Leaky Cauldron. Harry tried to blink. As his eyes were mostly swollen shut, he wasn't very successful.

«Oy! Lad! Do you get off in Diagon Alley ? Oy?»

It seemed that Harry attempt to nod was understood, as, again, he felt a hand take his elbow and lead him before a stone archway. With another bang, he was left alone and swaying in the night. Harry had still only his wand but it seemed his short bout of unconsciousness (well, he assumed it had been short, but it could have been several hours, for all he knew) had left his mind marginally clearer, now that he had re-acclimated himself to the pain.

Leaning against the stonework separating Diagon Alley from the Leaking Cauldron, he tried to come up with a plan. Where to go ? He was still so tired...he didn't fell up to a long walk or long explanations. That left Dumbledore out. He was still mad at the twinkling old goat. Between Sirius, the Prophecy and his insistence that he returns to the Dursley's, his general high-handed attitude in regard to others's life, particularly his own, he felt that his resentment was more than justified. So that excluded every adult from the Order too. He had no money to take a room at The Leaky Cauldron. And he needed a good plan, if he was to really escape Dumbledore's influence and his relatives.

His friends ? Hermione would go directly to Dumbledore, even if he asked her not to, assuming that she knew best. Ron would involve his parents and they, too, would go to the meddling old coat. He had no idea of where Neville was living, but he knew that his Gran was very strict and therefore unlikely to put up with a underage, runaway wizarding celebrity. Plus, there was the fact that he lead her grandson on a fool quest to break in the department of Mysteries, where he was injured. Luna lived too close to the Weasley, even if she would probably hide him if he asked.

Harry closed his achy eyelids did that left him ? He was in Diagon Alley. What was in Diagon Alley except shops ? Shops...the Bank...shops...Yes! The twin's Shop! With a surge of enthusiasm, Harry gathered his last forces and stood up slowly. He was sure that the Twins would welcome him, heal him, and even hide him if he asked. They had no particular respect for authority, even Dumbledore's. They were devious. They were evil geniuses pranksters and saw the irony in every situation! They thought differently from everybody else! They were all for poetic justice, the weirder, the better ! If there was someone who wouldn't go to Dumbledore and who had the resources to help him, it was Gred and Forge! Hopefully, they would treat it as a challenge...Harry had a profound respect for the twins, and he sincerely liked them. He knew they were genuine and had a certain fondness for him, a fact that flattered him slightly. Okay, more than slightly, but...well, they WERE in a class of their own !

As Harry's mind continued to ramble madly, his legs had taken him closer and closer to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It was late at night, or very early in the morning, and under the dark night sky, the usually busy streets were desolate. Unseen, he arrived at his destination, 93 Diagon Alley.

The store windows of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes were dark, the store having been long closed for the night. Above the store, lights shown through the windows of the small flat that housed the store owners, indicating the occupants were still awake.

Harry had come to the only two people he knew that he thought would help him over the cause of the Light, Fred and George Weasley. The eternal pranksters would never snitch on him, and would only be too happy to help him out. They, more than anyone in the Weasley clan, were fiercely protective of him. Harry didn't know if it was because he had given them his thousand galleons winnings of the Tri-Wizard Tournament to start their store. But he liked to think that it wasn't the only reason they had taken him under their wings. They were always friends, but the three had grown to be close, especially after Ron had deserted him in a bout of jealousy two years ago. He had missed them after their grand exit from Hogwart. They brought depth and levity to his life. And they kept him on his toes, more than anyone else ever had.

Harry half-knocked, half-collapsed on the door and waited, trembling with the cold. The door swung open to reveal the curious face of Fred, who stood in the doorway, clad only in navy blue pajama bottoms and clutching his red house robe close to fend off to the cool stormy night. The opening of the door, although not unexpected, made him stumble past the threshold, his balance lost. As the light from the inside spilled to illuminate Harry's form, he closed his eyes against the glow. He prayed that the Twins would recognize him. He knew they were cautious since the return of Voldemort and he didn't fancy being at the end of the prankster's wands.

"Harry?" Fred asked, opening the door fully. «Is that you ? What are you doing here, mate? And at this hour? What happened to you ?" Harry slumped in relief at the fast paced questioning. Fred guided him further inside instantly, closing the door. Harry stepped into the warm entrance way, rubbing his hands over his arms, covered only by his overlarge and threadbare t-shirt. His clothes were soaked through and he dripped on the well-worn wood flooring. The temperature began to warm slightly, the warmth of Fred, close-by, warring with his chilled skin. He could tell the pain would be back soon, as soon as the numbing cold would retreat.

Harry limped inside of the shop completely and Fred reacted instantaneously, catching him and holding him against his side. Footsteps resounded, coming from above, and suddenly, George was descending the stairway, clad only in his pajama bottoms, his muscled chest on a wasted display, as Harry was almost blind.

«Hey, Har...» He gasped as he took sight of the drenched black and blue boy next to his twin. «Harry, what happened ? How badly are you hurt ?» he charged down the stairs and wrapped his arm around the thin boy's shoulders. His loud exclamation made Fred react. He stopped gawking at the sight the waif-like boy made and turned to his brother. «Let's get him upstairs. He's wet through and through. Cold too.»

Harry let himself be led. He was at the end of his rope. He had only the strength to mumble short explanations before falling unconscious once more. The benefits of his rest on the Knight Bus were disappearing fast; «Dursley's doing... Wanted to... escape... .never going back again...have to hide...Order...Dumbles ..have ... to ...disappear...»Then, with the end of his strength "Pl...Please...kill...Boy-Who...Lived". His whisper was barely heard above the loud patter of the falling rain. His body went limp between the twin's. He left them staring at each other, dazed, incapable to react for a few minutes.

Fred and George had heard about Harry's awful muggle family before, but without prior experience with abused friends and with Harry's silence on the subject, they had figured, like most, that Dumbledore would not have left anybody in a really bad place, lest of all the Boy-Who-Lived. They were painfully disappointed and not a little mad with the Headmaster. As they began to ask themselves how bad it had been and why nobody had ever questioned the decision to send Harry back to the Dursley (Surely, Ron and Hermione, at least, had to know. And hadn't they, themselves, told their parents before Harry's second year that he was imprisoned in his own bedroom?) Before they could begin to suspect something nefarious, like, perhaps they knew but left him there anyway for some reason, they realized that they were the only thing holding up the body of their unconscious friend.

«Come on, George, let's get him upstairs and warmed up. Do we have enough healing draughts to help him ?». At his brother query, George shook himself from his whirlwind of questions, doubts and self-recrimination. He scooped Harry up and began carrying him upstairs. He entered their small but cozy living room and carefully deposed the battered body on their old leather couch. Quickly crossing the space between the small table and the two armchair, he went to lit the fireplace, taking care to block the Floo's access completely. Turning back to Harry, he found that Fred had not been idle. All of their stock of healing pastes and potions was spread on the living room coffee table, and Fred was already in the small kitchen, warming water. Seeing that, he hurried to the bathroom, snatching towels to try and dry their friend.

As George emerged back from their bedroom, he saw that Fred was on his knees beside the sofa, gently divesting Harry's hurt body of his drenched rags and cleaning the blood he came across with the warm water. Pausing for a second to calm himself, he tried to understand what happened since Harry appeared. It was only a few minute ago, but George could confusedly perceive the life-altering quality of the moment. Too worried to think clearly about anything other that Harry's state, he couldn't, nevertheless, shake this feeling : their life was about to change radically. And he knew, as he came beside the sofa to help Fred, that his twin was probably feeling this too. Reasoning that no change brought to them by Harry would be worth regretting, anyway, he resolved to move forward.

His last reflexion dissolved itself as he concentrated on applying bruise salve, wrapping Harry in towels, making him swallow one healing potion after another : regenerative draught for his magic, Skelegro for his fragile bones, pain potion, restorative and so on and so forth. They were fairly well stocked. They had to, with all the experimental pranking and the product-testing. But even then, they lacked resources to deal with injuries of this magnitude. Then, there was the consequences of the neglect. Dressed, Harry seemed very slight and thin. But, there, naked on their living room's sofa, he appeared as he was in reality : a famished teenager, skinny and pale, all nervous muscles and delicate bones, and very small for a fifteen year old. They finished wrapping the healing body in a plaid and cast a warming charm.

«No fever so far, said Fred, we're lucky. With the amount of time he probably spent under this fucking freezing shower, I fully expected him to be ill on top of the rest. We'll have to go buy potions ingredient. He seems mainly exhausted, but I would prefer to have Pimentine on hand, just in case. Plus some Nutrient Potions to help him put some weight on. And Appetite Enhancers to deal with the rest...do you think he needs a healer ? » He didn't have to hear his brother's response to know that he agreed with his line of reasoning. The twins exchanged a grave look, their serious faces a mirror of their somber mood. The relief they felt at the fact that Harry's injuries were not life threatening was tempered by the only words they heard from him since his dramatic arrival.

Slowly, still a little dazed from the quick string of events, they looked around their flat, half amazed that their surroundings could stay so benign and familiar when things were spinning so out of control. Their flat was still small, the open space of the sitting room -living room still littered with various potions ingredients, half finished pranks and experiments, colorful papers and notes in a joyous chaos. The kitchen was still a half cooking-half potion lab space, their bedroom still a mess, clothes thrown carelessly all around the double bed and in the hallway to the bathroom. They slept together, since there wasn't enough space for two bed.

At the same slow pace, the twins brought the recovering boy to their bed and arranged him in the middle of the covers. They manipulated his limbs with the utmost care, as if a quick movement could break him. They stood on each side of him for a long moment, contemplating the sight that Harry made in the middle of their bedroom, surrounded by their stuff. It gave them a peculiar feeling.

Still contemplating, the twins seated themselves and began to tenderly stroke Harry's dark curls, his face, his shoulders. «It's a good thing that he was sleeping, he's so shy we would probably had to fight him if he knew he had to let us see him naked.» murmured Fred. «True. Too true, brother of mine. Do you have any idea of how we could make him disappear ?... He IS rather like a bird in a golden cage. Awfully monitored for a not-so-golden cage, after all. Little Ronickins would probably stop being jealous if he could see him now.» George asked after a moment.

Suddenly, the Twins were feeling a familiar surge of excitation at the challenge they faced : they had to fool not only Albus Dumbledore, but the entire Wizarding World into thinking the Boy-Who-Lived had disappeared definitely. Life with Harry would never be dull, that's for sure ! As far as they were concerned, this would probably be THE biggest prank they could ever play. The fact that they would do it at the request of the heir of the Marauder, the same one who helped them and encouraged to build their pranking business, only made it better. The icing on the cake would be the revenge they would add on the muggles who made the life of their friend hell. With truly disturbing grins, the Twins began whispering excitedly above Harry.

A lot of wand-waving, four transplanages, a few illegal magic and a truly heroic battle with muggle technology later, Fred and George Weasley crawled back to their bedroom, locked their flat and snuggled under their covers on either side of Harry. Thank god today was a Sunday!