H.P:the Difference Between Brothers?

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He changed into the second outfit he'd been left, brown shirt and trousers with a pale blue jacket thing. The blue jacket had brown detailing along the edges with little wooden buttons. His taped up shoes, which were three sizes too big, looked completely out of place with the outfit.

After attempting to smooth his hair into something other than a chaotic mess, he made his way down to the kitchen. He could smell bacon cooking before he reached the bottom of the staircase. He definitely overate the night before, the decadent dinner had been too much for him to handle.

When he stepped into the kitchen, all thoughts of eating fled his head. Two of the strangest creatures he'd ever seen were flitting about the kitchen, chattering at one another in high pitched voices. The creatures were short, maybe around three feet tall, with heads far too large for their tiny bodies. They had long, pointed ears that looked somewhat like bat wings coming off the sides of their bald heads. In the center of their faces, they had large, bulbous eyes; one had blue eyes; the other brown. Their arms and legs were long and spindly, with bony knees and elbows. Even stranger, instead of clothing, they wore what Harry thought were pillowcases. There was a coat of arms, the same one he'd seen engraved in various things around the house the night before, embroidered onto the front of the pillow case. Neither of them wore shoes.

The green eyed one spotted him, and smiled. Its overly large mouth pulled back to show its teeth.

"Oh! Little Master Harry is home," it squeaked and hurried over to him. "Mippy is so pleased to see Little Master Harry."

"Um..hello?" he said, unsure of what to say to the odd thing.

A laugh came from the table. James was sitting there in the morning sunlight with a newspaper spread out before him, but his attention was on Harry and the creature.

"Meet two of our house elves, Harry. She's Mippy, been without family since before I was born. And," James pointed to the other one, "he's Pokey."

Somehow, Mippy had ushered him to the table while James was speaking.

"Sit, sit. What can Mippy get Little Master Harry?" she asked.

"I..um."

James was still laughing. "Lilly was the same the first time she encountered a house elf," he said. "Just tell her what you want to eat, and she'll bring it. Literally, anything."

Harry was tempted to ask for a full English. He'd made every bit of it a hundred times, but had never been allowed to eat it. "Some eggs, and maybe beans and toast," he settled for.

"Right away, Little Master Harry. Mippy will get it," she said and darted away from the table.

Harry watched her as her and Pokey moved about the kitchen, chatting happily with one another, as they fixed his food.

"They're not fond of being stared at," James said.

Startled, Harry turned back to him. He was still looking at Harry with an amused smile.

"They're…different," Harry said.

James laughed loudly. "I imagine this is all overwhelming."

"A bit," Harry admitted.

James told Harry he could help himself to the pot of tea on the table, as he started in on an explanation of how new witches and wizards were introduced to the Wizarding World. Muggleborns, he called them.

Midway through, Mippy sat his breakfast in front of him. The food was delicious, and Harry ate greedily as he soaked up the knowledge James was giving him. Eventually, the explanation ended, and they lapsed into silence. James turned back to his paper.

Uncle Vernon liked to read the paper with his breakfast too, but unlike Uncle Vernon's paper, with its neat little boxes and mundane headlines, James' was the strangest thing Harry had seen yet. The Daily Prophet was stamped across the top in a curling script. Articles swirled across the page at odd angles, wrapping around others. The people in the black and white pictures even moved like a silent film stuck on a loop. The headlines were just as bizarre as the paper itself. Muggle-Baiting On the Rise was scrawled about the top of one page, and halfway down, another article read, Knockturn Raid Turns Up Jinxed Broomsticks.

Just as he was squinting trying to read more of the articles and make sense of it, James set the paper aside.

"I never asked, how did you sleep?"

"Fine," Harry told him. What else could he say? The bed was too soft, the room too large and silent. He'd thrown dinner up because he was unused to eating.

"That's good."

For twenty excruciating minutes, they went back and forth with inane small talk. With the new day, the man seemed to realise that he'd messed up in how he'd handled things. He'd stolen Harry from the only life he'd ever known, only to dump him into a world he knew nothing about with the bare minimum of an explanation. Of course, he probably shouldn't have abandoned Harry in the first place.

James peppered Harry with questions about his life and the muggle world. He avoided the Dursley's as much as possible, and kept his answers short. When he couldn't, he substituted things he'd learned from other kids at school. He'd been a house elf for as long as he could remember, so there had never been time for things like hobbies, or interests. He read because it was the only thing that alleviated the hours of boredom locked in his cupboard. He liked learning, because it was a means to getting away one day. Other than his snakes, which he definitely didn't mention, he'd never had friends.

Even though everything James learned about him was a half truth or outright lie, he learned a lot about James. He was one of the youngest people to ever become the Deputy Head Auror, which was some type of high-ranking wizard police officer. In addition to that, James mentioned that he held a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot. He'd read a little about the government in the Muggleborn book, and it seemed that the Wizengamot was something like a combination of Parliament and the High Court.

As James was finishing up, a bedraggled Alex stumbled to the table, still wearing his pyjamas. He snapped his fingers at the elves and demanded food from them. Harry internally winced at his tone. Alex sounded remarkably like Dudley.

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