chapter one

Violet had always been an early riser. This had always been true, and it was a fact that could possibly be chalked up to her time of her birth, if you believed in that sort of hogwash. Violet was born just as the sun began to rise, early in the morning of July 31st, 1980, and approximately twenty four minutes, as timed by the midwife, after her twin brother, who was born when the sky was dark and still. Of course, Violet herself knew none of this, being an infant at the time, and by the time she was old enough to understand it, her parents had long since been deceased. But that is neither here nor there. The point remains that Violet had a habit of waking up early, and this particular morning was no different.

The moment sunlight began to slip past the faded curtains of the room Violet and her brother shared, her eyes snapped open. Said eyes were hazel; Violet had inherited them from her father. Eye color was not the only thing she had inherited. She kicked off the tangled quilt, scrambled out of bed, and crept over towards her sleeping sibling, who slept in a matching, aging bed on the other side of the small bedroom. He had always been small for his age, and in his sleep he looked more like her younger brother than her older twin. Violet, in contrast, was tall for her age; another thing she had inherited from her father.

A smirk slipped onto her face; it sat rather oddly there, because Violet had a sweet, heart-shaped face that was all her mother's. However, her smirk was entirely her father's fault, and so was what she did next. With one sudden jerk, she ripped the covers right off of him. He immediately started awake, squinted at her, groaned, and rolled over, muttering something far from complimentary.

Violet's talent for getting under other people's skin, particularly her twin's, was entirely her father's fault as well.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing vigorously in an attempt to further coax her brother into wakefulness. "C'mon," she stage whispered in a wheedling tone, giving one of his scrawny shoulders a good shake. Violet was no mammoth of a girl herself; she was thin and gawky; but it still forced him to turn and look at her.

"What?" he demanded, burying his face in his pillow.

"Today's a very special day, that's what," she retorted. "Or have you forgotten?"

His brow furrowed.

"It's Duddy's birthday," Violet hissed gleefully, and he rolled back onto his back with another pained groan.

"You had to remind me."

Violet leapt up from the bed. "You'd better get dressed quick- wouldn't want to miss our favorite cousin's special day!" Snickering, she turned towards the wardrobe they both shared, rummaging in it for something suitable to wear.

"He's our only cousin," her brother muttered from his bed.

"Harry! Be nice," she mock-scolded, and then turned around, holding a dress that had last been in style a good twenty years earlier up to her lanky form. "How's this look?"

"Ridiculous. Like you."

Violet was in the process of sticking her tongue out at him when they both heard quick footsteps in the hall, and before they could even exchange a look, the door flew open. The twins' bedroom door had no lock, and Petunia Dursley was a much happier woman for it, despite not being a terribly happy woman to begin with.

Petunia was very thin, very blonde, and at that moment, very overwhelmed with planning a birthday for a very spoiled, very temperamental boy. She looked between Violet, still holding the dress, to Harry, sitting up in bed, one hand stretched out towards his glasses on the night stand, and back again, which was what she always did without fail when in the presence of the both of them. It was actually rather interesting to watch, as the look in her eyes always shifted slightly, for reasons neither twin had ever understood. That said, at the moment she was pleased with neither of them- she rarely was, but today was, after all, a very special day.

"Neither of you are dressed yet?!" she snapped. "What have you been doing?!"

"Sleeping," Violet supplied helpfully.

"I've been up since the crack of dawn wrapping gifts for Duddy, and I won't have his day ruined," she continued in strident warning. "None of your usual nonsense, do you hear me?"

The latter statement really ought to have been directed at Violet, who had the greater penchant for nonsense, but her glare was leveled mostly at Harry, to no one's surprise. Neither twin knew why, but if Aunt Petunia could find a way to blame Harry for anything that went wrong, she usually took the opportunity. This would have caused a great deal of resentment between brother and sister, had it not been evened out by their uncle, who often went to great lengths to blame Violet for anything that went wrong. That typically made things equal, and the twins were closer for it.

Harry mumbled an assent, while Violet simply grinned, and showed her aunt the dress, which was a horrific shade of chewing gum pink.

"Aunt Tuney, do you think I ought to wear this or the green?"

"I've told you not to call me that," Aunt Petunia snapped, but there was little real bite in after having snapped the same thing day after day ever since Violet had first began to speak actual words. However, as she looked at her niece something in her face, while it did not quite soften, did lessen somewhat in severity.

"There's no need to wear a party dress when you'll be spending the day at Mrs. Figg's. Just get dressed and hurry downstairs, both of you. I want you to help me hang the streamers, and you-," she jerked her head at Harry, who was adjusting his round, taped up glasses, "To keep an eye on the bacon."

With her orders for the day delivered, Aunt Petunia marched out of the room and down the stairs.

"She's a bit tense today, don't you think?" Violet commented.

Harry chose to ignore her in favor of rummaging under the bed for an escaped sock. When he did speak, it was not about his aunt's mood.

"I had a funny dream last night," he informed his sister, as she reluctantly laid out a worn skirt and too-big blouse instead.

"You always remember your dreams, and I never do," she complained. "That's not right- we're twins, we should dream exactly the same."

"It was about a flying motorcycle," he went on, with a small frown.

"Oh, you've had that one before," Violet rolled her eyes.

"When?"

"Last October! I remember. I wish I had dreams about flying motorcycles- or regular motorcycles. I've always wanted one."

Harry snorted, presumably at the idea of his sister on a motorcycle, and Violet shot him a look as she quickly worked her dark red hair into a messy braid. Her hair- her looks in general, really, aside from her height and eye color, were the only things of her mother recognizable in her right off the bat. But Violet was as oblivious as to how similar or dissimilar she was to her parents as her twin was, the very picture of his father aside from his eyes.

The two raced to see who could dress the quickest, as they did every morning. Harry usually won, but only, Violet insisted every time, because boy clothes were easier to put on than girl clothes, even if said boy clothes were multiple sizes too big. Everything Harry wore was a hand-me-down of their much larger cousin's. Violet was not much better off; everything she wore was a hand-me-down of their aunt's.

The pristine kitchen downstairs was nearly unrecognizable, not because of any mess but because of the sheer volume of brightly wrapped presents, spilling off of the table and chairs and onto the floor. Violet recklessly skirted around them and clambered up on a chair to help adjust a cloyingly blue streamer, while her brother turned his attention to the bacon sizzling in a pan of the stove.

Roughly three minutes later, when Aunt Petunia was finally satisfied with the position of the streamer and Violet nimbly hopped down from the chair, despite the woman's shrill of disapproval, Uncle Vernon barged into the kitchen. He had a habit of entering rooms like that, being big, beefy, and above all, loud. He gave his usual greeting to both twins; "Comb your hair!" to Harry, and "Fix that braid!" to Violet. Harry's hair, if it had been a bush, would have been an overgrown bramble. Violet's hair was a lesser offender, but tended to rebel against whatever constraints put upon it.

Violet smiled carelessly at her uncle, which was her go-to response since it seemed to infuriate him all the more, judging by the interesting colors his already red face turned. Harry kept his head down and focused on the eggs he was cracking.

"You take over the eggs," Aunt Petunia instructed Violet sharply, and gestured impatiently for Harry to bring over the eggs before hurrying out to get the birthday boy. Whenever the twins could be pressed into helping with any household tasks, they were, although Uncle Vernon often insisted on the chores being gender-segregated; if Harry was scrubbing down the bathroom, Violet had better be dusting down the mantle.

"If those eggs are burned you'll be in for it, girl," Uncle Vernon snapped at her while she carefully rotated the pan. Violet waited until he was no longer glowering in her direction before silently mouthing his words at Harry, who immediately looked away so as to not burst into laughter.

Dudley and Aunt Petunia presently arrived in the kitchen; Violet was not at all surprised when he went straight for the presents. Dudley always found a reason to be upset, even on his birthday, and as last year he had broken several things in his rage over something not being the right color, Violet decided she had better help herself to one of the fried eggs now. Obviously of a similar mind, her brother was attacking the bacon.

As she ate she watched her aunt talk Dudley down from a tantrum; had she not been a housewife Aunt Petunia might have made an excellent hostage negotiator. Then she watched her cousin open his presents. It was hard not to be envious of Dudley year-round, when he had all the love and affection and attention anyone could ever want heaped on him every day, but it was even harder on his birthday. Violet and her brother were never completely ignored on their birthday, but the few presents they received were either very cheap or Dudley-rejects, and there was never any special outings or cake.

Violet didn't quite hate Dudley, not how she knew Harry did. This might have been because Dudley tended to bully Harry more-so than her; her he mostly ignored, as no matter how feared you and your friends were at school, no one wanted to be the person who'd beaten up a girl- or been beat by a girl. The last time Dudley had gone after Harry Violet had given him a good punch to the gut, and it'd taken him a long while to get his wind back. Now Dudley really only physically shoved Harry around when Violet couldn't get away with stopping him; in the presence of his parents.

She glanced up from stealing a strip of her twin's bacon when Aunt Petunia abruptly hung up the phone in a manner that suggested she was not pleased with what she had just heard. Violet got ready to hear the latest dose of neighborhood gossip; had the Myers's dog gotten loose again? But instead Aunt Petunia looked at her and Harry as if whatever she'd just heard was somehow their fault, and then turned to Uncle Vernon.

"Mrs. Figg can't take them," she said in a low, horrified tone. "She's gone and broke her leg."

This escaped no one; all eyes were immediately on her. Dudley gave a whine of protest like a pig being led to the slaughter. Uncle Vernon sputtered in outrage. Violet shared a hopeful look with her brother. This might finally be the year they were allowed to come along on one of Dudley's birthday outings. This year was the zoo; last year had been movies. The twins had always been left behind with Mrs. Figg from down the street, who was always nice enough but had a house that reeked of cabbage and far too many cats.

"Phone Marge," Uncle Vernon barked. "See if she can take them."

"Marge swore she'd set her dogs on them after the last time!"

Uncle Vernon's sister Aunt Marge despised the twins, and they returned the feeling tenfold.

"We could just stay here," Violet suggested brightly. Harry nodded beside her. Staying at home by themselves might be even better than going out; they'd have the run of the house for a change. They could play with all of Dudley's new toys and gadgets.

"We'd come back and the house would be smoldering ashes," Aunt Petunia snapped, before turning back to Uncle Vernon. "What if we bring them along and have them sit in the car?"

"That car is brand new, Petunia-,"

Dudley's high whine morphed into a full on wail. Violet immediately plugged her ears. He wasn't actually crying; Dudley rarely really cried, because he never had any reason to be really, genuinely upset or sad. But he was good at faking it, and he was also good at getting his way.

The doorbell rang, piercing through Dudley's wails and Aunt Petunia's cooed assurances, and Violet slowly unplugged her ears while her aunt raced to get it. Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend, who strongly resembled a rodent and generally behaved much like one as well, slunk in. The last time Violet had encountered Piers it had ended with him fleeing the scene, and he went pale as he saw her now. She smiled banally.

Not long after, the twins found themselves cornered by Uncle Vernon as Dudley and Piers scrambled into the backseat of the car. Much to everyone else's despair and Violet and Harry's delight, there didn't seem to be any option but to take the two of them along to the zoo. However, their uncle was not about to let them go without a warning.

"Listen to me very carefully," he snarled, looming over them like an irate walrus. "Any funny business from either of you;" He was mostly scowling at Violet, as if she were plotting even as he spoke- "And neither of you will leave that room until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," Harry said immediately.

"We promise," Violet added, trying to keep a straight face.

Uncle Vernon didn't look very reassured, and despite his personal biases, had good reason not to be. Odd things happened around the twins.

Harry's hair had once grown back in a single night after Aunt Petunia had hacked it all off, just leaving behind the bangs to cover up the strange, jagged little scar on his forehead. The Dursleys swore it was from the car accident that had killed the twins' parents, but Violet had always wondered why she had no marks on her.

After being yelled at by Uncle Vernon for a good ten minutes on a particularly bad day, all of the little knick-knacks Aunt Petunia kept on the mantle had jumped off one by one, as if committing ritualistic suicide, right behind Violet.

A sweater Aunt Petunia had tried to force Harry to wear once had gotten smaller and smaller until it was doll-sized.

Violet had been tripped up by Dudley while coming down the stairs and landed on a sofa pillow that had certainly not been there a moment before.

Harry had somehow ended up on the roof of the school kitchens while on the run from Dudley's little gang, with no idea how he had gotten there.

And just last month a girl who frequently bullied Violet in school had gone to sat down at her desk and landed on the floor, the desk collapsing as if it were made of cardboard underneath her.

However, Violet was determined nothing strange would happen today, and she was sure Harry was thinking likewise. The backseat was a bit cramped with the four of them wedged in; Piers and Dudley on one side, Violet and Harry on the other. Violet put herself in between her cousin and her brother, and ignored the sharp poke in the ribs she got from Dudley in retaliation.

At one point a motorcycle went roaring by the car, with prompted Uncle Vernon to go on an entirely new tangent about the inferiority of motorcycles, and prompted Violet and Harry to exchange a covert glance of amusement.

The weather was warm without being uncomfortably hot, the sun was high in the sky, and the zoo was packed, Violet noted as they exited the car, Dudley and Piers racing ahead, her and her brother trailing after their aunt and uncle. Ice cream was being sold at the entrance, just past where you bought your ticket, and Violet hung back with Harry while the Dursleys made a great show of getting Dudley and Piers each a large chocolate soft-serve.

"And what about these two?" the woman in the van asked good-naturedly, as Violet's red hair and Harry's piercing green eyes were hard to ignore.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon exchanged a look, realizing they couldn't get away with not getting the twins anything without losing face, and quickly bought them both the cheapest thing being sold; lemon ice pops.

It was hard to not be happy when the sun was shining and one had an ice pop to lick at while they wandered around, and seeing as neither had ever been to the zoo before, Violet and her brother were having one of the best mornings of their lives. The Dursleys weren't paying much attention to them at all, and so long as they kept their distance from Dudley and Piers, the two boys couldn't be bothered to harass them much either.

The food in the zoo restaurant was better than anything Violet had eaten all year, and when Dudley threw a fit because his knickerbocker glory was lacking in the ice cream department, she and Harry were allowed to finish it while he devoured a brand new one.

It was beginning to get hotter after lunch, and Dudley and Piers led the way into the dark, pleasantly air-conditioned reptile house, yelling about seeing the biggest, most dangerous snakes. Violet wandered, and was discussing whether or not a seemingly empty exhibit had a chameleon hiding in it or not with Harry when Dudley gave a shout.

He was right up against the glass of the largest exhibit, which housed the largest snake Violet had ever seen, whining for Uncle Vernon to wake it up.

"It's trying to sleep," she said, but both her uncle and cousin shot her a nasty look before moving on, leaving the twins standing there alone.

"Maybe it died of boredom," Harry said dryly.

Violet snorted. "Or shock, if it woke up and saw their faces."

Suddenly, the snake opened its eyes, raising itself up slightly to stare at both of them.

"Whoa," Violet breathed.

The snake winked.

Harry looked stunned, and glanced at Violet, who had clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from yelping in surprise. He turned back to the snake and winked back.

Violet watched, mesmerized, as the snake appeared to look over at Uncle Vernon and Dudley and roll its eyes. Harry murmured in agreement, only it sounded more like hissing.

"Are you talking to it? You can talk to it?!" she demanded in hushed excitement. For all the odd things that had happened to or around them, she'd never been able to talk to any animal. "Ask it something!"

"Okay, okay," Harry shot back, and then hissed something else at the snake.

It seemed to point at something with its tail. Both twins squinted at the sign it was indicating.

"Boa Constrictor, Brazil," Violet read aloud. "This specimen was bred in the zoo."

Harry was hissing something else at the snake, and then someone screamed from behind them.

Piers and Dudley both raced up. Violet stumbled back as Piers elbowed past her, and Harry fell backwards onto the cold, hard floor as Dudley punched him.

Violet started forward in anger, not even caring that her aunt and uncle were on their way over, ready to give Dudley what for, when suddenly both Dudley and Piers scrambled away from the exhibit, screeching in terror. Violet stared- the glass had vanished completely, and the massive constrictor was slithering out onto the floor. The reptile house exploded with panic, but Violet was frozen, watching the great snake slither past her brother, hissing something at him.

An hour later, after a long, emotional talk with the reptile house keeper and the zoo director, both of whom were extremely apologetic, as well as extremely confounded, the Dursleys, the twins, and Piers, sat in the car. Dudley kept claiming the snake had done it's best to take one of his legs with it, while Piers maintained he had come this close to being crushed to death. As the car pulled out of the zoo lot, however, Piers piped up with a vile little grin, "They were talking to it," with a nod of his head at Violet and Harry.

"No, I was talking to it," Harry snapped fiercely.

"No," Violet retorted, not about to let her twin take all of the blame. "It was me."

Uncle Vernon was so enraged he could barely form coherent sentences by the time Piers had gone home, and Aunt Petunia was all purse-lipped fury. Violet refused to admit it had been Harry- Aunt Petunia was convinced it had been him- and Harry insisted it was him- Uncle Vernon was certain it had been Violet.

As it was impossible to pinpoint exactly who it had been, Violet and her twin were ordered upstairs and into their room, where they laid in the dark that night, murmuring quietly to one another, and very hungry since they'd never had any dinner.

"It'll be ten years in July," Harry said at some point, tiredly.

"I know," said Violet, and she paused before. "Do you ever remember the accident?"

There was a brief moment of silence before her twin replied. "I remember a green light. And my forehead burning."

"I remember the green light too," Violet whispered. "I wish I remembered Mum and Dad. Do you think we look like them?"

"Maybe," Harry said. "I hope so."

"I wonder which one of us made the glass disappear," Violet mumbled sleepily, and rolled over in her bed, staring at the old wallpaper. Every night she fell asleep listening to her brother fall asleep, and tonight was no different. There was always the guarantee that they would see one another in the morning.