Alioth and Alcyone Collingwood were a curious pair.
Even as they were born, Alioth four minutes earlier than Alcyone, there seemed something off with the two infants. When the midwife tried to pick Alioth up she could feel an electric jolt rush up her spine. In shock the woman had let the baby in her arms fall. But Alioth didn't hit the ground. He kept floating in the air, with everyone in the room gaping at him. Never had a child this young, barely a minute old, showed any magical ability.
And then Alcyone had come. The midwife was shaking with fear for what was to come when the other baby came into the world, but the child had to be born. The elderly woman barely dared to touch little Alcyone, terrified as she was.
But nothing happened.
Alcyone was a tiny baby, almost half of her twin brother. She wasn't really crying, just made a small, whiny sound. She was a pitiable little baby, where Alioth was screaming his lungs out and swinging his little fists around in the air. It was like the older one had occupied so much space and stole so much of his sister's food that all the magic was sucked up by him, like a sponge. Like a very greedy mudblood. Stole someone else's magic while he already had enough of it himself.
Of course, Alioth was praised into the heavens.
Where Alcyone was treated like just a Squib, a lesser being, Alioth was treated as a god. At two years old he could make himself float in the air for a few seconds, sometimes even minutes. Sometimes the house elf would leave him alone for a minute and when she came back he would be sitting on the dresser, while he was left sitting on the floor. He would giggle at the elf's horrified expression and start swinging his legs in the air, very aware of what he'd done.
At four years old he could make multiple objects float through the room at the same time. Sometimes he would lift the carpet up into the air, making all the chairs and tables and toys on top of it fall over and rolling off of it. Later, when his mother saw, he would blame the house elf and the poor thing would be punished. Sometimes, if he wanted attention, he'd admit that he'd done it and he would be awarded with sweets and kisses on his cheeks and hair ruffles. Alcyone would then grin at him and scold him playfully for letting Peggy, the house elf, clean it up. Sometimes she'd get him to let all the furniture float back in place again. She would thank him and kiss him on the cheek, laughing when he tried to scrub it off with his sleeve.
At six, he could make small things like coins and buttons and needles turn into something else. Sometimes it would be a phial, sometimes a golden thread. Sometimes an object would even turn into a small bird. Alcyone couldn't get enough of it.
At eight, Alioth got his first wand. Aspen, dragon heartsblood, 14 inches long and inflexible. He was terribly proud, of course. Arrogant, snobbish, some would say. But how couldn't he be, as the owner of a wand at eight years old? Alcyone was extremely proud as well, and so were his parents. Now they could brag about their firstborn child even more at parties. After all, who had a son as brilliant as them? Who had a son who could turn apples into pears at eight years old? Who had a son that could perform a perfect Summoning charm at nine years old? No one. The Collingwoods had a unique son. A genius. Nobody ever spoke of Alcyone.
At ten years old, he went to Hogwarts. His parents had sent a letter to Dumbledore, telling him about their brilliant son. They had insisted that he'd go early, as the ingenious wizard he was. After a lot of communication between the Hogwarts headmaster and the Collingwoods, it was decided that Alioth was to go to Hogwarts a year earlier than any other wizard or witch in wizarding history. He was a legend. And at the end of summer, Alcyone would be left alone, with only her much younger brothers and sister, Eridanus, Cepheus and Pleione, for company.
With Alioth gone Alcyone started noticing her parents' cold behaviour towards her more and more. She was just a Squib, after all. Nothing to brag about. She was much rather something to stay silent about in everyday conversation.
Every once in a while she would get letters from Alioth, telling her about his adventures as a first year Slytherin. He told her about his lessons and interests, Quidditch at Hogwarts, the people, and how one of those nasty Gryffindors was cursed. The last one scared Alcyone. She was worried about her brother. She knew that he was very capable of protecting himself, as he was getting lessons for fifth years in Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Charms, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. The last two subjects were only offered in third year, she had been told. She was so proud of her twin.
Then there was the issue with the Dark Lord. She didn't need to worry about that, of course. Her brother was a smart, powerful, pureblood Slytherin. She was more worried about what if the Dark Lord didn't win the war. What would happen?
But then Mother spoke to her about what was happening, and she knew that the war would be won. And then the pureblood side would conquer and Father would be even more powerful and after a few years Alioth would get a good job at the ministry, maybe he would even become Minister of Magic.
But for now, life was just boring.
Mother would snap at her, Father would ignore her. Her brothers and sister would look at her a bit snobbishly, as if they were older and better than her, and the only thing it made Alcyone was unhappy and insecure. Alioth's letters were a little light in the darkness. They would come every now and then, brought by Alioth's big, grey owl called Hector. She would rip it open and run straight to her room, reading it thoroughly and writing a reply as soon as possible.
And then Alcyone overheard a conversation between her parents.
It was about her birth, and Alioth's as well. About how he seemed to have stolen her magic, making her into this. A filthy Squib.
Within ten minutes Alcyone grew to hate her brother.
With tears in her eyes she receded to her big room and tore her reply into a million tiny pieces. He had done it. It was all his fault. If it wasn't for his selfishness, she would be a witch as well. A proud Slytherin, with a wand and loving parents. She would have friends of her age and be enemies with those mudblood-loving Gryffindors. She'd look down on Squibs. She'd look down on all those dirty Muggles. She would be above them. Not one of them. And if she were old enough, she would fight in the war and fight all those blood traitors. She would get "Outstanding" OWLS in all her twelve subjects, and then she'd go on with NEWT. She would be Quidditch Captain and prefect and maybe, in her seventh year, she would be Head Girl. Then everybody would look up to her, not down on her. If only it wasn't for Alioth.
Alioth wrote several letters to her, asking why she hadn't replied. After two months or so he stopped writing. Alcyone was disappointed that he gave up on her that easily. Surely she meant more to him? Then again, everyone thought her the scum of the earth, so why wouldn't he? He had every reason, as her brilliant brother. Her brilliant brother, who had stolen her magic in the womb.
Deep down, Alcyone knew that she was being horribly immature. That he hadn't done it intentionally, if it was even true. But she had to hold on to something, didn't she? She had been good enough once. It wasn't like she had been a lesser being from the beginning of her existence. Someone was to blame for her being non-magical.
So she blamed Alioth, as he couldn't be this much of a genius without her magic on top of his. If she had been a witch, he would've been an ordinary wizard. He would have as much magic in him as everyone else. Not twice as much.
When Alioth came home for summer holidays, full of stories and questions for his sister, she avoided him. He didn't understand. It made him angry. Wasn't she even remotely proud of what he had achieved? Next year he would start on OWL-level. His second year. As an eleven-year-old. His parents were terribly happy to see him, to hear his stories, to tell him things about the Dark Lord and how Father was involved. They answered all his questions. Alcyone didn't answer one. She was cold towards him, not the happy, grinning girl he had left at home at Easter. She ignored him, and it made him mad.
So instead of talking with his sister, Alioth wrote to his friends, stayed over at their homes, let them stay over at his. He hadn't mentioned Alcyone to any of them, scared that they might judge her harshly for being a Squib. He knew that wizards were better than Squibs. He knew that very well. But she was his sister, and he loved her. Though he wasn't so sure about that anymore.
When Alioth left for his second year Alcyone felt guilty. He had worked hard, wrote her letters, tried to tell her stories. She had ignored him. She regretted that now. So she wrote him, telling him that she was being childish over summer and telling him that she had been envious of him being a wizard and being able to go to Hogwarts. She instantly got a reply, telling her that it was okay and he understood. Then he told her that Dumbedore was killed and that the Dark Lord had power over Hogwarts and that Death Eaters were appointed as teachers. Slytherin ruled the school. They finally had the power they deserved.
A few months passed and their twelfth birthday, november 27th, approached quickly. Alcyone got a box of sweets and a bracelet. Alioth got a box of sweets, a new broom stick, new dress robes, a few books on dark potions and transfiguration, new quills and ink and five galleons. That was the time that Alcyone really noticed the difference between them. She was a Muggle, really. A non-magical person. He was a ingenious wizard with nothing but magic pumping through his veins. That was the way their parents saw it. The way everyone saw it. And finally, she saw it too.
Christmas came and passed without a lot of fuss. Alioth stayed at Hogwarts and got sent a few gifts from the family. Alcyone god two diamond earrings. She wore them all day, that proud she was. Earrings with silver and tiny emeralds around the shining, tear-shaped diamond in the middle. Never had she had a gift this beautiful. She wrote about them to Alioth, only to get a faint response. She was disappointed, of course. Terribly disappointed. He had written back about the sweets he had, and the money. And the new polish for the wood of his broom. His new set of books on spells and several hexes. His new Quidditch robes with matching Slytherin scarf. She shrugged it off. She was above this childishness.
Mother had hit her. Multiple times. Four blows to the cheek she received for letting a plate slip through her fingers. Alcyone had cried herself to sleep.
Spring came slowly. Sunlight finally started breaking through the thick curtain of dark clouds, rain and snow. Alcyone opened her window every day, sniffing the crisp morning air and smelling the fresh scent of new leafs on the trees. The grass wet from the early morning dew and flowers finally growing. Alcyone loved early spring. She loved the watery sun shining down on her pale skin. She loved the sun on itself. The sun didn't know inequality. When you put a Squib and a pureblood wizard next to one another, the sun would shine down on their heads the same way. Sunrays didn't go brighter when touching something pure and magical. The sun shone the same way as on the Squib. Alcyone liked that thought. So she listed things that didn't know inequality. Water. Weather. Food. Toys. Games. Earthquakes. A lot of things didn't know inequality. Only people did, actually. The Dark Lord did. Death Eaters did. So her parents did. It was a sad thought, but Alcyone didn't mind on that moment. The morning sun was breaking through the clouds, and that was all she could think of.
It was the second of May, Cepheus' fourth birthday. Alcyone's youngest sibling was celebrating happily, a big grin plastered across his round face. Birthdays in the Collingwood household had always been celebrated rather formal, with a few uncles and aunts coming over and the big table in the dining room that no one ever ate at was set by the house elf. They would dine and give the birthday boy or girl presents, always wrapped in the same shimmering green paper and silver ribbon. Alcyone would eat and wait until it wouldn't be noticed when she retreated to her room.
Now was different.
Mother and Father were tense, and every once in a while Father would go to the study. Mother told the children not to ask questions, and the only thing she told was that father had to be ready to go to the Dark Lord if he was needed. When Father came back he was always pale-skinned and sweaty, as if he was scared.
After a little while father gripped his arm and sent Mother a panicked look. She stood up and ordered her children to go to bed. Alcyone did as she was asked, knowing that no good would come if she refused to go. Slightly worried she undressed and stepped into her night gown, to lay herself down in her bed.
Alcyone woke, to notice that birds were singing and light was streaming through the windows. She hadn't been woken. This worried her. Every morning, she was woken on six thirty on the dot. There had to be something wrong. Sick with worry she flew down the stairs to find the living room empty. A note was on the table.
Alcyone,
The Dark Lord has fallen. Your brother is dead. Father has been taken to Azkaban. Take care of Pleione and Cepheus. Tell Eridanus to dress. I expect them to be ready in the living room at nine. I expect you to be gone.
Mother
Alcyone did as she was told. At nine o'clock she was out of the house, in the big forest. After three hours she encountered a group of unfriendly centaurs and was killed as a sacrifice to the gods.