Disclaimer: the world and inspiration is J.K. Rowling's, I am merely playing with her wonderful creation. A few characters are my own.
PROLOGUE
Both of us.
Once upon a time, we curled together in our mother's womb, two tiny hearts beating in tune. Now, we are perfect mirrors of each other: long dark hair, blue eyes. We walk in step and speak in unison whenever we choose. We feel sorry for our classmates: none of them are identical twins. They seem to think we're strange, but we don't care.
We're different from them in other ways, too, and we know it. Sometimes funny things happen around us. We call them our fairy powers, and they definitely aren't normal.
Here's an example. A few years ago at school, a great bullying slab of a boy called Gavin Hooker cornered us against the fence at the far end of the playground, out of the sight of teachers. Everyone knew he was a right violent nutcase and for whatever reason that day he was out to get someone; he had a seriously ugly look on his face. Before we could run, he'd shoved Jennifer against the fence with his arm. He was holding a box of matches. When he lit one, we both began to scream, but nobody was close enough to hear us. "You're freakish, you twins," Gavin spat, his lip curling. "I'm going to fix you. Everyone'll be able to tell you apart after this." He lifted the match close to Jennifer's right cheek as she struggled and shrieked, "Juliet! Juliet!"
Next thing we knew, Gavin let go, roaring with pain. The match had jumped: wriggled like a little wooden snake out of Gavin's fingers and sprung off his hand at his face, just missing his eye. As he stumbled away in oafish terror, Jennifer picked herself up and we looked at each other, eyes sparkling. It was our fairy power again. It only surfaced occasionally, but it was there.
We knew we were special, and we kept it secret. Everything was perfect this way, until the first day of August. Our eleventh birthday.
August, 2018.
Jennifer
Before our alarm clock beeped, I opened my eyes. Juliet had just opened hers and we smiled at each other.
"I love our birthday being in the holidays," I said, throwing off my covers.
Juliet jumped out of bed too and rummaged in our sock drawer, pulling out our favourite purple and green socks and throwing me a matching pair. "Yeah, those poor kids who have to spend their birthday in school."
"I know, right!" We finished pulling on our clothes in the same moment, as always, then ran downstairs. There was a warm, spicy smell wafting from the kitchen, and we came in to find Mum making coffee and Dad reading his Sunday paper.
Dad laid down his paper. "Happy birthday, girls."
"Thanks, Dad! What's that amazing smell?"
"Your mother's been busy baking something special for your birthday," Dad said. "I'm glad you're awake, I wasn't allowed one before you came down."
Mum carried over a heavily laden tray. "It's terribly unhealthy so you aren't getting it again before next year, mind."
"Wow, Mum..."
Freshly-made cinnamon buns and thick hot chocolate to dip them into! It was sunny outside, not hot chocolate weather, but Mum knew it was our absolute favourite thing. We didn't often get treats like this, as though Mum was a great cook, she was a bit of a health nut too.
"This makes an exceptionally pleasant change to Weetabix," said Dad, helping himself to a hot bun as Mum poured herself black coffee.
I took a large bite of bun and Juliet sipped her chocolate ecstatically.
"This is brilliant." I paused, my eyes meeting my twin's. "So...when can we open our presents?"
"Who says you've got any presents? Children only get presents up to the age of ten. After that they give their hardworking parents presents instead, as payback for the previous ten years," said Dad solemnly from behind his paper.
"Da-ad..." we chimed, in unison.
Dad grinned, then reached behind the toaster and pulled out two sparkly bags. "All right, here you go..."
"Juliet, look!" squeaked my sister as we each pulled out a little package.
My heart beat fast as I felt the present inside its wrappings, daring to hope. They were just the right size and shape; and we'd wanted them for years. We ripped off the wrapping paper in the same moment and two sleek mobile phones fell into our laps.
"Yes! Awesome!" we said together, and high-fived.
"We thought they would be useful when you girls go to Greenhill Academy in September," said Dad, with a little smile.
"You can't play with them all day," said Mum, sipping her coffee. "We're going to have a birthday picnic on the beach, remember! It's lovely weather, should be warm enough to swim. Phones off then, yes?"
"Yes, Mum..." We both took enormous gulps of hot chocolate as we switched our phones on. My screen lit up and I wriggled in my seat in anticipation. I could feel Jennifer wriggling next to me.
Tap-TAP. The sudden loud noise made us all jump.
"What was that?" said Mum, alarmed.
Tap. TAP-TAP!
Startled, all of us turned to look at the kitchen window.
"What the devil -" said Dad, in amazement.
On the window ledge was a large tawny owl with a letter clamped in his beak, tapping impatiently at the glass.
Juliet looked at me, bewildered, and I knew I looked just as baffled.
TAP! TAP! The owl shook his head, jerking the letter at us. His meaning couldn't have been clearer, and at last, Mum shook her head weakly and started to move towards the window.
"Don't let it in, love!" said Dad, alarmed. "It could be dangerous - it could have rabies."
"Don't be silly," said Mum, undoing the latch and tugging at the window, which was stiff as we rarely opened it. "Someone's obviously trained it to deliver letters, so it's evidently tame. And why would they tame a rabid owl?"
"But -"
The window flew open suddenly and Dad jumped up, stumbling backwards, as the bird immediately fluttered in in a whirr of wings. It landed heavily on the kitchen table, dropped the letter, clacked its beak at us (in a way that clearly said "finally!"), and flew off before any of us really knew what had happened.
"Wow..." breathed Juliet. "How cool was that?"
Blinking rapidly, Dad shook his head and picked up the letter, which had fallen face-down on the table. The envelope was thick, yellowy and discoloured, and on the back was a dark red wax seal. He turned it over and looked down at it for a moment. Then he slid it across the table, eyebrows raised.
"Well, now - it's for you, girls."
It was addressed to:
Miss J. Belstone
The second bedroom,
33, Mill Lane,
Briar's Wood,
Mucklebridge,
Devon
Juliet picked it up and I reached out to feel the thick paper with my fingertips. "This is bizarre," I said. "Is this some kind of mental birthday surprise, Dad? Are you acting? Did you hire a tame owl?"
Dad shook his head, "I did not! But maybe you have an eccentric relative none of us knows about. Who breeds owls. And, er – gets them to deliver birthday cards." He sipped his coffee, bemused.
Juliet slid her finger under the flap and opened it halfway, then passed it to me to finish. "This is the strangest birthday card we've ever had," she said.
I tore the rest of the flap, tugged out the parchment inside and flipped it open. Juliet leaned in close to read it with me.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin (Third Class)
Dear Miss Juliet Belstone,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a prestigious school for young people with magical abilities. You will most likely have already noticed these abilities surface, in some form or another. At Hogwarts you may expect to develop, refine and control these magical powers, and learn everything necessary to assimilate yourself later into the wizarding community.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment and some more essential details about Hogwarts School for your parents. Term begins of 1st September. Information on where to purchase your school supplies and uniform, and how to get onto the school train, will be sent out once an affirmative answer has been received.
Please reply by owl tomorrow. If a reply is not received, you may expect a visit in person.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Silence. Absolute silence. I gripped the letter so hard it nearly tore. The list of books and equipment fell out and Juliet picked it up wordlessly and read it, while I scanned the letter again, stunned.
Dear Miss Juliet Belstone...
We had, we all had, just assumed the letter addressed Miss J. Belstone, was for us both. People had often addressed letters to both of us this way.
But this – this was all wrong. There was a ringing in my ears and I gazed blankly down at the letter, feeling my whole world drop away in that moment.
Dad had read the letter over my shoulder, blinking very fast, and now he tugged it from me and held it out to Mum, who read it through very carefully, swallowed, and then looked at my sister in utter astonishment. For a moment, it was as though I wasn't even there.
From far away, it seemed, I heard Juliet stammer, "I – I don't understand!"
Oddly enough I could understand...at least one thing. The letter was obviously authentic. The heavy wax seal hadn't come from a joke shop, it was too detailed to be a hoax, and it had been delivered by an owl, for heaven's sake. Besides...we always knew we were special. We knew we had fairy powers. And now here was an offer of a place at a school, a school of witchcraft and wizardry...but...
At last I looked over at my sister, my reflection, my other half. My insides were clenched in a tight knot: fear and confusion clawing at my gut. Juliet seemed stunned, her mouth slightly open, her lips dry.
Eventually I tore my gaze away to stare out of the window; the owl was long gone. Now, panic was rising in my chest, and I heard myself speak as though in a dream.
"Where's my letter?"
"Jennifer –"
I interrupted her, breathing shallowly. "This is yours," I said, a catch in my voice. "Where's mine?"
