Content: Remember those crazy stories were a bunch of fangirls get into potteruniverse and everything is sunshine and butterflies in the end? Well, forget about those. In this story a teenager enters the magical world against his will. He's read all the seven books and he hates every one of them. With a vengeance. Now he's stuck as Harry Potters twin brother and of course the world wouldn't let him alone about the boys-who-lived crap. So he's gonna make them pay. He's gonna do everything in his might to ensure the series does not end like the original. Even if he has to become the antagonist to do so.

Warning: Bashing against pretty much EVERYONE. This fanfic means to show all the little mistakes and imperfections of the Potter series, things that people usually overread but if it would happen to you in real life, you would have to wonder. I do not mean to offend anyone (I'm a Potter fan myself after all) but to get you to think it over. Rating for some swearing.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Whoa, that's a relief.

„No, not my boys! Please, take me instead!"

Oh fuck. Another nightmare.

I let out a frustrated moan and rolled over, pressing my hands against my ears in an attempt to get rid of the screams.

"Step aside you silly girl..."

I did my best to turn off the hissing voice and the wailing of a baby nearby and tried to drift back into the empty void of dreamless sleep. But then there was this blinding green light, followed by an incredible amount of pain. And suddenly, there were two babies screaming.

When I finally came to my senses again the night had retreated for the light of the sun. A Gray, somewhat dirty sky stretched above my head. I tried to sit up but found myself unable to do so. In fact, I could not move at all. I tried to cry for help but I could only manage a high pitched wail. Immediately I shut my mouth again, embarrassed by myself.

At least I was somewhat warm. The ground shook a bit as if I was on a ship or something. After some time in which I desperately tried to remember what I'd done before having that weird dream a change came to my surroundings. The air around me flickered like some kind of hologram. I looked around and decided that I still had to be in a dream. There stood none other then Rubeus Hagrid, yet another fictional character out of my most hated series.

Yes, I hate Harry Potter. Have I made an enemy out of you now? Well, I don't give a shit.

The books themselves, I suppose, are alright. Aside from obviously being childrens books and as such being full of cliches and logical mistakes. Yes, it is a magical world but even there there are rules and the books always tend to contradict themselves. My little half sister, unfortunately, loves the series. She's 14, five years younger then me that I have just started going to university. I love Emy, I really do but after having to read the same book for her for the fifth time to get her to sleep I just can't enjoy it anymore. Then she started collecting all these fan articles and writing fanfictions (forcing poor me to read them). Of course I was dragged to all eight movies against my will ("Such a good chance for some family bonding time", my father had said.) Eventually I began searching for a way to defend myself against this madness - by pointing out all the flaws and imperfections, all the mistakes and the gigantic lack of common sense present in the books. Finally I had my peace. Or so I thought. Until my mother decided that my abysmal Spanish marks were unacceptable and, knowing full well about my dislike for that particular series, forced me to read it all again with her, this time in Spanish.

My parents got divorced shortly after I turned three years old so ever since I remember I had commuted between my crazy but loveable mum and my father with his new wife and my step-sister. In both houses Harry Potter was an ever present subject. It was for that reason that I really began to hate it. Why the hell was it that those stupid books were the only thing my two lives had in common?

Therefore it was not unusual for me to dream about Harry Potter. Sometimes it were good dreams (the characters getting into extremely embarrassing or painful situations) and sometimes they were nightmares (all other scenes that were played exactly as they were in the original.)

This dream, I hadn't yet decided which kind of it was. I seemed to be struck in baby Harry Potters body, which was weird but not a first one. Hagrid carried me around in a big wooden basket where I laid tucked nicely in blankets to keep me warm. I could catch a glimpse of a muggle city and, when the basket swung around a bit, I even saw that gigantic motorcycle I knew belonged to Sirius Black. It flickered out of view for a second. It reminded me of Mr Weasleys flying car with its invisibility button. It seemed likely that the motorcycle had something similar and explained why I wasn't able to see anything but sky for the past minutes – or hours?

Anyway, Hagrid (still letting out an occasional sob) looked down at me with his compared to the rest of his body tiny black eyes and faked a smile.

"Are yer hungry, little ones?", he asked scratching my cheek. I glared at him the best I could. What confused me was that after that he was turning his attention to somewhere next to me, cooing some more but without actually looking at me. Weird.

The half giant drew quite a few stares as he entered the cafe, asking for baby milk. A kind waitress however had enough pity to help him feeding me (I was indeed very hungry). Although I think I saw another waitress silently going into the direction of the telephone. I wouldn't be surprised if she called the police.

I got quite a shock when the waitress reached into the basked and got a hold of a baby that wasn't me.

"Of, such lovely little boys they are!", the woman cooed. "What are their names?"

Wait, what?

"Oh, that one's Harry! Or... Well, it could be Charles too, I don't really know..."

"They do rather look alike. Identical twins, I suppose?"

What the f-

"That's right! Wonderful boys, aren't they?"

"But those scars look rather funny... They both have one, right on their foreheads! It looks fresh, are you sure they're okay?"

You gotta be kidding me!

Hagrid fidgeted a bit. "Well, uh, I was on my way to a healer, you see."
"You mean a doctor."

"Yeah, that. So, uh, I must get go'ng!"

The other waitress just came back from the telephone when Hagrid paid for the milk and laid Harry back into the basked, that, I now realized, must have two compartments.

What a crazy dream. Now I was the twin brother to Harry Potter? Oh, please don't let this be such a lame story were the false Potter is declared boy-who-lived and gets trained while the other one is left for abuse. Because I'm really not in the mood for training.

Outside of the cafe Hagrid took off again. I was pretty sure where he was heading but I didn't know that it was such a long route. Yet Hagrid seemed to have to land and stop whenever one of us cried (which was usually Harry) so we needed more time as if we had just used a regular motorcycle. By the time we arrived in Bristol I was glad Harry finally shut up and got to sleep. I, on the other hand, didn't feel the least bit sleepy. Which, maybe, had to do with the fact that I technically was asleep. Hopefully.

Around midnight we finally arrived at our destination. Recognizing Number Four, Privet Drive I decided that beside that odd turn with the twin-thing it had to be a nightmare. The conversation between McGonogall, Hagrid and Dumbledore was almost exactly the same as in the books. When Hagrid told them he had borrowed the motorcycle from Sirius Black and had to bring it back shortly I glared at Dumbldedore some more. The man had to think Black a traitor and a corpse cruncher, hadn't he? So why the hell wasn't he warning Hagrid? Goddamn idiot. Greatest wizard on the world, my ass.

As it turned out, both of us were being dropped on the doorstep to Number four. Yeah. The hero of the wizarding world dropped on a doorstep in a goddamn fucking cold November night. Wizards! At least leave some fucking warming charms! God, I already hate this dream.

And then there we laid. Freezing our little baby asses off, waiting for the morning to come. And we waited. And waited. And...

Alright, what the fuck was this?! Flying in an invisible motorcycle, okay, I got that. But in those dreams, wouldn't you normally just don't notice the time that passed between two more important events? I clearly felt every single one of my limps (except for my toes. They were too COLD!). I could hear Harrys breathing, the rustling of the leaves. I stared counting stars in an attempt to fall asleep. Still nothing.

This was going to be a loooong night.

And what a hell of a long night it was.

I stopped believing this to be some kind of stupid dream three or four month after being dropped by the Dursleys. There was no point denying it, no dream could be so detailed and long lasting. I had somehow landed in the Potteruniverse. I didn't even have any idea how. I couldn't remember any strange incidents like being struck by a lighting bolt or being sucked into a black hole in the television. I just couldn't remember. My memories of my real life got more and more foggy too but not in a manner like someone was erasing my mind, just the normal way of forgetting things. Unfortunately, being in the environment I was, potterfacts as I called them didn't belong to these things.

I didn't know exactly how long I would stay here. Maybe until the Hogwarts letters arrived? Or for another seven school years after that? Would I have to endure the crappylog? Was there even a possibility at all to get back?

The first thing I had done as soon as I was good enough at walking was to go to a public cellphone and search for my families number in the phonebook. It did not exist. Well, that would have been to easy. I did a little more research as soon as Dudley got his first computer and I could sneak in his room at two o'clock in the morning to have access to the internet. But neither my family, nor my old school or my university did even exist here. It was the same with the Harry Potter books of course, but that wasn't a surprise since they wouldn't have been published yet. However I couldn't find a single notice on Lord of the Rings and that was really strange.

Anyway. It seemed I had to play along for the time being. From the very beginning I had absolutely no intention of ever going to Hogwarts. That place was so full of monsters and other dangers that it was a small miracle nobody had died before fourth book. I'd rather not die young, thank-you-very-much. The wizarding world in general seemed to be pretty fucked up so I was perfectly content to just stay in the good old muggle world.

I wasn't even sure if I even had magic until I first approached Vernon D. and asked for a larger room, or at least a real bet because my brother and I didn't fit onto one cot anymore. His dismiss made me so angry that a few lighting bulbs exploded.

Even if I didn't plan on getting a proper wizarding education I still found lots of use in the accidental magic that I spend every free minute in trying to control. My far to mature mind allowed me to meditate (my former girlfriend had dragged me to her yoga training a couple of times) and indeed I could imagine I found something I could call a magical core. I was however unsure how much magic I could do without endangering myself so I waited until Harry did it all first.

When my brother was five he turned the color of Piers Polkins hair blue for the first time. I started training to be able to change the color or inanimate objects right away, followed by my own hair and even eye color. I needed a hell of a lot of concentration and it didn't last long but I could do it. It was incredible useful when I could rewrite part of my tests in school after getting them back and later on complain about unfair treatment. I just made the red notes of the teacher white to erase them after writing down the real answer. I got to jump two classes ahead because of that little trick (and of course because I was around 25 years mental age by then and knew all of that already.) That had the positive side effect of not being in the same class as Dudley and actually being able to make some friends.

When we turned eight the Dursleys started to try to get us a haircut every week. No kidding. Every week. One would think they'd learn that Harrys hair was just untameable. I, instead, let my hair grow until I could bind it in a ponytail that always hung over my right shoulder. Petunia always ranted about me looking like a hooligan but even she had to admit that it got rid of the untameable part. And when she cut my hair it was just so much more obvious when it grew back as when she cut Harrys. So I got to keep it.

I was able to change the color and length of my hair and nails as well as the color of my eyes and skin though only a few shades. That was however enough to go stealing at the nearby shops under disguise and not being recognized later on. It helped that with the age of ten I could begin training apparration after Harry one day found himself on top of the school roof. If Harry could do that accidentally I should be able to do so without too much splinching.

Well, I did splinch myself a couple of times but I only got small wounds that healed overnight.

All in all I managed to make life with the Dursleys a lot better then in the original. Aside from my hair I showed no sign of magic in front of the Dursleys. I had no reason to ask questions about my so called parents and I did my best to never mention movies, comics, games or anything else fantasy-related to them. In return I got ignored by them but also they left me alone. They didn't even comment much on the new clothes I was able to afford with my stolen money.

Regarding Harry... I have to say I wasn't able to build much of a relationship with him. Sure he was a fine kid, but that was just it. He was a kid, I was a grown man. I could've been his father, for god's sake! I hated this serie but I was fair enough to not to let it out on him. I even brought him clothes and, after his glasses got smashed the second time by Dudley, a few good sets of contact lens that I used myself. I helped him with his homework and did my best to calm him down when he cried because he though nobody cared for him.

Unlike what most fans though we were not forced to do any chores. At least nothing any normal kid wouldn't have to do (even though Dudley of course didn't have to work at all.) We were not beaten and we weren't even insulted much once Harry learned to shut his mouth. It's just that they clearly didn't love us. Harry however craved for love and would do anything to please his relatives (I didn't see myself related to that filth at all). He would be depressed if they ignored him and would even do stupid things (like asking questions) just to get a reaction out of them.

I remember that one time when I had finally managed to conjure a white ball full of concentrated magic in my palm that would melt a huge hole into a wall when thrown at it and I eagerly showed it to Harry.

"Look, dear brother of mine", I teased him, "look what I can do!"
"Whoo, that's shiny!", little Harry squealed and clapped his hands. "What is it?"
"It's magic", I told him proudly.

Harrys face fell a bit. "But... But magic doesn't exist. You shouldn't say something like that, even if it's a joke!" He looked around as if he expected his uncle to turn up on the playground to scream at us.

"What do you mean a joke?", I answered scowling. "Just look at it, isn't it obvious that it's magic? I'm a wizard, Harry, and so are you." It had been my first attempt to get Harry to understand that we were not worth less then the dirt under Vernons shoes.

"Wizards do not exist", Harry insisted angrily. "Stop fooling around."
"Fine", I sighed and let the ball vanish.. "But you'll see Harry, one day wizards will come to take you away to learn about magic."
His eyes got all round. "Why only me?"
"Well, obviously I can already do magic", I answered proudly.

"But I don't want to be separated from you", he said sadly.

That was another strange thing. Although I mostly kept my distance from him Harry seemed to see me as the older brother (I wasn't sure whenever or not I was) that protected him. Sure, sometimes I would get a teacher when he was being hunted by Dudley or I would give him food I stole from the fridge when he was locked in our cupboard but that was it. Since Harry had first shrunken a horrible jumper Petunia wanted to force him to wear I had trained myself at casting wandless expanding and shrinking charms so we didn't have any trouble sleeping in the small cupboard under the stairs. Still I felt like this was not my life. Therefore, Harry was not my brother. I knew he would grow to be an slightly above average wizard with no common sense whatsoever and a nasty hero complex. But, more importantly, he would grow up to be a trouble magnet and I wanted to have no part in it. It was best to keep my distance from him as much as I would be able to.

Even as a wizard without education I could easily make a fortune. All I'd have to do was to exchange some muggle money at Gringotts for galleons. The galleons were worth five times as much when being sold to a muggle jeweler (I wondered why not more people did that.) And that was not even counting the huge inheritance that awaited Harry and me.