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.
"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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