Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Not the Chosen One - Chapter 1

I've been posting on FanFiction.com my OC (original character) x George Weasley love story. I'm currently working on the fourth chapter, but I thought I would post my first chapter on here. If you want to read up through chapter 3 (as of now) or stay updated on the story as I post  on the website feel free to read it HERE!

Chapter 1

         “Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall,” an old man with a long white beard smirked while looking straight ahead. Nearby a tabby cat quickly followed, all the while transforming into a rather severe-looking woman with an emerald cloak and a tight bun.
         “How did you know it was me?” she questioned.
         “My dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly. Care for a lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked popping one in his mouth.
         “A what?”                                 
         “Lemon drop, muggle sweet that I’m rather fond of.”
         “Muggles. They are all suspicious with all these owls flying around and shooting stars. Just because You-Know-Who is gone, -” McGonagall went on before being interrupted by her fellow professor.
         “Surely a sensible woman like yourself can call him by his name, Voldemort.” McGonagall flinched at the word. “I’ve been trying for eleven years to get others to do the same,” Dumbledore said while lightly chuckling.
         “Do you really think it wise to leave them here? I’ve watched them all day. The worst kind of muggles, they are. Everyone in our world will know the twins’ names! Harry is now the boy who lived; he will be a household legend, and in return so will she,” spilled Professor McGonagall worriedly. Dumbledore just smiled.
         “Exactly. Wouldn’t want either to get a big head, now would we? Ah, here comes Hagrid with them now.”
         “Another questionable decision,” McGonagall muttered, side glancing at the smiling head master. A loud motorcycle, with a side car attached, slowly descended from the sky. Upon it sat an overly large sized man with the bushiest hair and beard set.
         “Hagrid! How was the flight?” the head master questioned.
         “Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, safe and soun’. ‘Arry fella sleep as quick as ca’ be. Rena’s been awake, but ‘aven’t made a peep,” Hagrid sighed before starting to sniffle and handing the twins to the professors.
         “No need for that, Hagrid. After all, this isn’t goodbye. No, Harry and Rena Potter have great things to do.”

*Ten Years Later*
        
         Harry and I slept side by side on a small bed located in a dusty cupboard under the stairs. Of course not for long, however, due to our lovely Aunt Petunia pounding on the door.
         “Up! Get up! NOW!” the shrill voice of our aunt boomed. “Up! Harry watch the bacon! Rena make a coffee pot! Everything must be perfect on my Duddy’s birthday.”
         “The worst day of the year already?” I muttered to my twin.
         “Same time every year, unfortunately,” Harry sighed opening the door, just to be pushed back and have the door slammed in his face. A loud child laugh echoed through the hall. “And so it begins,” he added opening the door again.
         We walked into the kitchen to do our respective chores given to us as our alarm clock.
         “God boy, comb your hair!” Uncle Vernon barked, entering the kitchen. His way of a morning greeting, though it didn’t matter. Both of us got haircuts constantly, just for it to grow back to its original state within days.
         In the room over, noises of someone rummaging through something could be heard, followed by our cousin Dudley’s stamping into the kitchen. “Thirty-six? But last year I had thirty-seven!” his tantrum began.
         Unable to handle her son’s clear disappointment, Aunt Petunia runs to him arms out. “Darling you haven’t counted Aunt Marge’s present. Tell you what, Dudley-kins, Mummy and Daddy will buy you two more presents while we’re out today! Is that okay Duddy?”
         “Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father!” Uncle Vernon beamed proudly.
As Dudley thought hard about how many presents he had total, which was very hard for him, the phone rang. Harry and I served breakfast while listening to Dudley tear through wrapping paper and our aunt sighing into the phone. “Yes I understand. Feel better Mrs. Figg,” she said before hanging up. “Bad news, Vernon. Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take them,” she said jerking her head in the direction of the twins. “Now what?”
“We can call Marge down, or call that friend of yours. What’s her name, -Yvonne?” Vernon grunted without looking away from the day’s paper.
“Don’t be silly, Vernon. Marge hates the brats. Plus, Yvonne is on vacation in Majorca,” she replied frustrated.
Harry and myself shared a glance, knowing we had the same thought. It’s a twin thing you could say. I, however, was the one to voice our suggestion. “You could just leave us here.” Harry and I knew if left alone, we could watch the TV we wanted and maybe even have a try out our pig-with-a-wig cousin’s computer. Honestly, anything was better than going to the cabbage smell infested Mrs. Figg’s house. She was nice and all, but if Harry and I have to sit through one more second of going through cat photo albums, I might claw my eyes out.
“To come home to my house burnt down? No, I suppose you two will have to come along.”
Dudley began to throw another tantrum. “I… don’t want… them… t-t-to come! They always r-r-ruin everything!”
“Oh my poor Dinky Duddydums! Mummy won’t let those two spoil your special day,” Aunt Petunia consoled, but all it took was a doorbell, signifying his friend Piers Polkiss was here, for him to stop his fake blubbering. With no options or time, Harry and I ended up in the back of the minivan heading towards the zoo.
Once we pulled up to zoo Uncle Vernon pulled us aside. “I’m warning you,” he spat pointing at Harry, “I’m warning you now, boy. Any funny business, anything at all, and you’ll be locked up in that cupboard from now ‘til Christmas! Got that girly?” he finished now pointing to me.
“We aren’t going to do anything,” I assured him.
“Honestly,” Harry chimed in, not that Uncle Vernon believed us. No one ever seemed to believe us. In all honesty, strange things seemed to happen when it came to Harry and I. Nothing in our control, mind you. The problem was, the Dursleys never seem to believe that though.
It was a very sunny weekend, and the zoo was packed with families. Harry and I got lemon ice pops, only because the Dursley’s couldn’t get us away quick enough after ordering, and it was so nice to be somewhere besides school, our cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage smelling living room. It was turning out to be one of the best days.
After lunch, we went to the reptile room. The room was too cold and too dark. Not to mention the room held huge, poisonous, slime covered, and man-crushing snakes. Harry gave me a knowing look and reached for my hand, as I already began to shiver with unnerving fear. I, Rena Potter, may be able to handle many things. Snakes are NOT one of those things.
“Make it move,” Dudley, our pig of a cousin, whined with his face pressed against the glass. Uncle Vernon tapped the glass with no results. “Do it again,” the pig ordered. This time Uncle Vernon pounded on the glass, just for the snake to keep sleeping.
Bored with the creature, Dudley ran to find a new interest as Harry started towards the sleeping snake, pulling me along. I stayed close behind him, still holding tightly, when he sighed. I knew what he was thinking.
“I’m not saying I like him, ‘cause I don’t, but I do feel bad for him. Must be worse than the cupboard. Alone. Stupid kids banging on his window all day,” I sighed to Harry, while maintaining my position behind him.  Suddenly the snake opened its beady eyes and slowly raised its head to our height.
Then, it winked.
Harry whipped his head to see if I was seeing this as well. Standing wide-eyed, I nodded and we checked to see if others were watching. They weren’t. Harry and I looked back to see the snake jerk its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then giving us a look saying, “I get that all the time.”
“I know,” Harry spoke to the snake. “Must be annoying.” The snake nodded back. I stayed silently petrified as Harry continued to converse with the reptile.
“DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME LOOK! LOOK WHAT THE SNAKE IS DOING!” a deafening shout sounded, making not only me jump, but Harry and the snake as well.
Dudley came waddling over, pushing Harry and I to the floor. Suddenly, while the pig and his friend had their faces pressed up against the glass, the glass was gone and they were falling in. The snake rapidly uncoiled himself and slithered out of the cage onto the reptile house floor.
As people screamed and I death gripped my brother, the snake slid by us. I swear I heard a hissing voice say, “Brazil, here I come… Thanksss, amigosss.”
Uncle Vernon rushed the lot of us to the car, yelling about unsafe zoos and lazy maintenance workers. We rushed home with a hysterical Aunt, Dudley and Piers going on about how their arms were almost torn off. Unfortunately, Piers calmed down enough to open his stupid mouth and say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry? Rena saw it! Right, Rena?”
Once Piers was safely with his mom heading down Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon grabbed us, shoving us into the cupboard. He was so angry, steam seemed to come out of his ears as he muttered, “Cupboard… STAY!... And NO MEALS!”
Harry and I lay in our dark cupboard a few days later, as an unknown amount of time passed by. His stomach growled and I looked at him with sympathy. While we were both hungry, we couldn’t risk sneaking out to the kitchen for food, without knowing if our aunt, uncle, and cousin had already gone to bed and since we had no watch or way to tell time, we continued to lay still.
“Do you remember mum and dad, Harry? Even a little?” I asked thinking of the years we’ve spent living under the stairs.
“Sometimes, when I try too hard, I think I see this bright green light. I guess that could be from the crash, but besides that… No, I can’t say I do,” he sighed signaling I was bringing up an emotional subject once again.
“Sorry… I know you hate when I bring it up. Just, sometimes, I think I can remember. Only little things, like dad tickling us, or mom reading bedtime stories. But what if I don’t remember at all, and I’m just making these up?” I asked slowly getting quieter.
“It’s okay, Ren. Just don’t think of too many questions, we can’t have answered,” he advised, while pulling me into a hug. Harry had always been better at following the rules than I had been, and the Dursleys’ number one rule was don’t ask questions.
“I can’t help it, Harry. What jobs did they have? What was mom’s favourite colour? Did mum have hazel eyes like me, or was it dad? Do you think dad wore glasses? I think he may have. You had to get your horrible eyesight somewhere,” I teased.
"Yeah I guess he could have... but what if's don't do anything, Ren. Let's just try to get some sleep?" And with that I know Harry was ending our discussion.

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