In honor of my favorite older sister's birthday, I decided to write her something extra special! But then, unfortunately, as always, my imagination ran away with me and it transformed into a series. So, this is the first story in my series, which I'm calling my Inferiorum series. The first five stories in this series are relatively short but they're much needed for background for the first long story.

So, this is the first one, but there will be others! But this one has to be written first, because they're in chronological order and also because Teresa loves the twins and it's her birthday! Happy Birthday!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: Inferiorum translates to 'Inhabitants of the Underworld'. (I'm getting that definition straight from my Latin 1 textbook, so if I'm wrong, well…argue with my textbook!) It'll become a little more clear why the series is called that as we progress through the stories.

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Doppelganger

Part the First

"Perhaps I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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It had been fifty years since Annwn fell. The beautiful land of Annwn, which stretched from her large snowy mountains in the north, to the magnificent capitol in the south, had fallen to tyrants.

These tyrants were under a mysterious figure whose real name people dared not speak. Is it a devil that they follow? A demon? Some unspeakable monster? No one really knew, except those directly under this Dark Lord, and none of them were speaking. Do not bite the hand that feeds you.

At this time, fifty years ago, the peasants of Annwn were so terrified of the attacks that came out of nowhere. At this time, one might hear the dreadful cry that rang out just before another family was killed.

"Morsmordre!"

But no longer. It would be nice to say that even though this group of people, known only as 'Death Eaters', had attacked the peasants without warning and destroyed all the barriers that stood in their way, somehow, the King's Guard, in one last attempt, saved the entire kingdom from being taken over.

But this story is not a fairytale, and this part of history in Annwn must be told truthfully. Although there was a last ditch effort to stop these Death Eaters and their Dark Lord, it didn't work. They all fell. The king was murdered. And now no one dared asked who was king. They ruled. And anyone who lived in Annwn at that time would always know and always pass on the knowledge of who they were to their own children.

This is fifty years later.

A prophecy was uttered and very few heard it. The Dark Lord was one of the very few who had heard it. Had his spy not been caught, he would have heard every word. But that was not important, not to him. The part that he did know was quite clear:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

There was only one way to solve the problem. One solution. All children born in the seventh month, all children who had strange circumstances surrounding their birth, all children who could, like the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, practice magic, were to be taken to the Guard and "processed."

Children who were "processed" were usually never seen again.

When the laws were first passed, everyone felt they were outrageous, and perhaps the Dark Lord knew this, because he helped to instill fear and dissension into neighbors. And now, approximately forty years after the laws had first been passed, a mother had to say good-bye to two of her sons.

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She wrapped two loaves of bread as lovingly as she could, as slowly as she could. She mustn't be slow, the Guard would be in the village soon and the man with the cart should be along any moment now. But she couldn't help her slowness. It felt like a leaden weight on her heart, that kept threatening to drag her down. And if she sank down, she was sure she'd burst into tears.

Perhaps it was because she always thought they'd be safe. They were just far enough outside the village and the village was just far away enough from the capitol that they couldn't possibly ever attract attention. But now they were searching, searching for the children who had to be processed. Tears pricked threateningly at her eyelids, despite her best efforts to keep them back.

She placed them in the small pack she was making for the two of them. They were sitting at the table, watching her, strangely quiet for once. Could they tell what was happening? Could they tell that her heart was breaking into millions of pieces? They were usually so happy, so ready for fun and games. Each one of her children were so precious to her…she would miss rolling on the floor with the two of them and ending up in a laughing heap. Laughing so hard that tears would roll down her cheeks and her sides would hurt. In times like these, their laughter really was the most precious thing of all. They didn't understand why their mother had to be serious or keep them in the house or, if they went outside, they would have to stay extra close to their home. They didn't understand the fights that their mother sometimes got into with their father, which weren't really bad fights, but sometimes there was shouting.

Their older brother would pat them on the head and tell them in a low voice that mother wasn't mad at their father, she was just tired. That times were very hard. These were all things they couldn't really understand.

Closing the pack for them, she gestured towards them.

"Fred, George." She beckoned to them and they slid off their chairs and walked over to her curiously, wanting to know why she had told them to put on their coats, as though they were going to play outside.

She slid the pack on Fred's shoulders and opened her mouth to say something but all that came out were practical things. How much food she had packed. How much water. Don't forget your shoes.

It was hard to say the emotional things. It had always been a little difficult for her, she had always been bustling around, and raising all her children. There wasn't enough time for her to take each child aside and tell them how important they were to her. To tell them how much she loved them. Even now, she was relying on that hustle and bustle to help ease the suffering.

The cart came. She heard those horse hooves and winced quite visibly. He came around the back, just like she had asked him. The two held hands as their mother led them outside. It was time to go. Not that they could possibly understand what that meant.

They were looking at her with those wide, beautifully brown eyes. Why did it have to be this way? How could she make them understand that this wasn't what she wanted to do? How could she hold them in her arms right before thrusting them into the arms of strangers?

"These…these are for you." She trembled slightly as she pulled out two thin pieces of wood, around ten or eleven inches long. She handed one to each of them and though they didn't know it, these were only part of the reason she had to give them away. "Promise me you'll never show them to anyone. Promise me you'll never pull them out unless you're by yourselves. Please…promise me…"

"Promise." They chorused together, stumbling over the word a little.

"If something happens, you must remember to find Albus Dumbledore." She was kneeling next to them, a hand on George's left shoulder and Fred's right shoulder. They were only three years old. How could they know? "Remember, find Albus Dumbledore."

She trembled again, but she kept trying so hard to hold back her tears. They were ignoring her fight and spilling down her round, kind face. She put on her best reassuring smile all the same.

"I love you, with all my heart." She told them. "We'll be together again soon, right?"

"Be back in for dinner." George grinned at her. He obviously thought it was some kind of game.

"We won't wander off." Fred promised. She bit her lip, but it didn't help at all. She threw her arms around the two little boys, hugging them to her, her whole body shuddering with the force of her crying.

The two little boys didn't really understand, but didn't want to see their mother cry, so they hugged her back. She'd feel better after a hug. That's what she always told them.

It took all her strength to put them on the back of that cart, all her resolve. It was what she had to do. To give them a chance to survive. To give them a chance to live. She turned away, even as she nodded to the man who drove the cart, whom she had paid the day before to bring her two sons to a special location, where they would be picked up by those who could take care of them in secret.

She whipped back around to look at the cart, before the sound of its creaking wheels completely faded. Fred and George were standing up in the cart, looking back at her. She had to save them. All her other children would pass for normal. All her other children wouldn't attract attention.

But Fred and George would. They would certainly be processed. For they were identical twins. Each freckle, each expression, they were exactly the same. Her hand went to her chest, where it closed into a fist.

Please remember…it's all for you…

To live…

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It would be hard to explain Fred and George's state of mind at this time. They both knew for sure something was wrong, they agreed on that in the cart, though they couldn't really decide what exactly was wrong.

"Why did she look sad?" Fred asked his twin brother, who was sitting next to him on the pile of hay and holding his hand. He always felt better when George held his hand.

"Maybe she hurt herself." George suggested in a tone that was really quite solemn compared to their usual happy ones.

"Yeah!" Fred nodded his head vigorously. "Like when I hurt my knee."

"Let's ask when we go back." George decided and Fred agreed with this plan. After that, they began to discuss a number of things, including caterpillars, ladybugs, and why berries with sugar tasted much better than both bugs.

Even though they were talking normally and occasionally tickling the other, there was some unspoken something between them. No one else would have noticed it but they did. The only evidence of that was that Fred and George, no matter what, did not let go of each other's hands.

The ride on the cart was long and Fred and George both knew that home was further and further away. They leaned back in the afternoon sun and fell asleep. The warm sun lit up their orange hair, shone on their pale skin, lighting up the freckles that sprinkled over their identical noses. If their mother could see them, laying down for a nap without a struggle that was half chasing the twins around and then trying to get to lay down in their bed. They had two beds at one time but one of them would always climb into bed with the other and they protested loudly if their mother tried to put them in separate beds again. She gave up on the fruitless struggle.

The sun sank down below the horizon and George was jostled awake by the cart hitting a stone on the road. Fred was awakened by his movement. The cart was still going along but it seemed to be slowing. Perhaps they would stop and find somewhere to camp for the night. Or maybe they had finally gotten there.

"Michaels!" They heard the voice call to the man on the cart. The cart stopped completely.

"Ah, I thought you'd be around here." The man on the cart answered. "I've got 'em."

"Two?" This voice that had been talking sounded greedy. "Two little boys like you said?"

"Yep. They're a little small now but you can wait a couple of years to sell them." The man on the cart had jumped down. Fred and George were confused by this conversation.

"How did you get them?" The greedy voice came around with the man on the cart. This greedy man, who was obviously rich, by the number of gaudy gold rings around his fingers, gave a start when he saw the two of them. "Twins!"

"I figured you could sell them separately." The man who drove the cart shrugged. It didn't seem to bother him that they were twins. Fred and George knew what the word 'separately' meant. They had heard it more than once. One of their older brothers was always trying to separate them as a punishment. It usually worked.

"George." Fred squeezed his brother's hand as tightly as he could.

"No!" George yelled at the two men who looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Together!"

"I don't know, I'm not really sure about buying twins…" The rich man looked at them apprehensively. "I don't need the Guard coming by to process two slaves."

"Maybe you could disguise one of them." The cart man suggested. "Look, are you gonna buy them or not?"

The twins looked at each other. They knew something was horribly wrong with this situation. They knew that it would involve separation if they stayed there. In that look, a thousand things passed. Desperation, fear, need. They needed to stay together, no matter what.

We have to get away from these men…

The message seemed to pass between them without either of them saying a word. Their hands, though grimy, gripped together so tightly that it hurt. But it hurts more to let go.

"Fine, I'll give you six galleons for the lot." The rich man offered.

"Six galleons! Come on, that's highway robbery! You make a hundred times that for each slave!" The cart man argued.

"You want to be caught with twins on this road?" The rich man asked with a tone that made the cart man hesitate a little. "Alright, alright, fifty for the pair of them. Unless you wanna see what the Guard does to smugglers."

"What about what they do to slave traders?" The cart man poked the rich man in the chest with his finger.

"It's perfectly legal. They just…frown upon it when it comes to child slavery." The rich man still looked around in a paranoid manner. George suddenly jerked on Fred's arm and it was their unspoken cue. They scrambled to their feet as the two men argued, not noticing this and jumped down the side of the cart, rolling into the ditch beside the road.

They heard an angry shout and knew that they had just noticed their escape attempt.

"RUN!" Fred shouted and him and George ran, ran as hard as they could, towards the forest that was across the field from them. Their short little legs working as fast as they could. There was no way to get away from the men. They were just too small. But separation was something they could not bear. Although they were children, somewhere in the depths of their souls they understood the phrase, "Or die trying." It was important to get away.

The night air was cold and they were glad for their coats, although the cold air was sharp on their lungs. They were not going to make it to the forest. They wouldn't possibly be make it before the men caught up with them.

"Jump!" George somehow managed to get out. Fred had no idea what he meant but when he looked forward, he saw something that the tall grass hid. A river. It wasn't huge, nor particularly wide but they weren't very good swimmers yet. He hesitated only a little but jumped in with George. It went up to their chests, with a terrific splash. He knew they were right after them.

The two twins hugged each other in the icy water, trying to find a hiding place. Only one place was left. They both made eye contact for a few seconds before bending down into the water. They had learned to hold their breath in water already, one of their older brothers taught them how. He never got around to teaching them to swim, their mother had said they were too young. But they could stay under water. Holding on to the other, they moved in the water, crawling on the river bed, hoping to get upstream a bit before they had to come up for air.

Their little lungs couldn't hold very much but somehow they knew to come up as quietly as possible. They were only three feet from where they had been, but they were up against the bank. They heard swearing and the two men, who had suddenly lost sight of them walk away. They waited, shivering in the cold water, until they thought they wouldn't be able to stand it anymore. The two men had long since had walked out of ear shot.

Fred crawled out onto the opposite bank first, then George. They were both shivering terribly. They both wanted to change out of their wet clothes and sink down onto the rug in front of the fireplace at their home. But they couldn't do this. They had to keep to going. Keep going through the woods, not understanding the dangers of cold air and wet clothing.

The woods weren't really a forest, but more a small grove that they got through in under an hour, but still shivering. Just as George turned to announce to Fred that they were on the other side of it, he felt something terrible. Fred let go of his hand.

"Fred?" George turned towards his twin, who had just sank down to his knees. "Fred!"

"Don't…feel good…" Fred feebly took his coat off. "I'm…too hot…" George did the only thing he knew to do. When either one of them felt sick, their mother always pressed a hand to their forehead. George did so and thought that Fred felt too cold, not hot like he was expecting.

"You're cold!" George had wide eyes as he announced this fact. He looked out on the landscape in front of him. It was hills. Hill after hill for as far as he could see on that night with the moon shining all around them. No one to help them. They had to go on.

But Fred was sick, George was sure of it. He didn't know what to do. He would never leave Fred and try to look for help. It wouldn't have occurred to him, not at that age. Even if it ever occurred to him as an adult, he wouldn't have done it.

He grabbed his twin's arm and put it around his shoulder. It was the only thing he could think of. They had to keep going.

They stumbled along, George going slow for his brother. Fred trying his hardest not to drag his brother down, not that George would have ever thought of it like that. The hills were difficult. Each one was overcome, only to see that there were just more hills. And no sign of anyone else.

Fred suddenly stumbled on a clump of Earth that wasn't quite where he thought it was. He pitched forward, taking George with him. They rolled down the hill, which only hurt when the occasional stone hit them. They were at the bottom of the hill, bruised and feeling battered, but not seriously injured.

George looked down at his twin in the moonlight. Fred's cheeks were flushed with his fever, he looked like he was somewhere else, and George didn't like that feeling. He wanted Fred to be right there with him.

"George…I don't feel good…go find mum…" Fred asked in a weak voice. Not his usual vibrant one.

"No! I'm staying here! I'm not leaving!" George dropped down, pressing his head against Fred's chest, not even noticing the damp clothing or the fact that he wasn't feeling very well either. It wasn't important. He had to make sure Fred knew that he was there for him. It wasn't right, none of this was right.

A strong pair of hands lifted him away from his brother and for a moment, George was choked with fear. Did they catch up? Did they secretly follow them? He couldn't bear the thought of that and suddenly tried to twist in the pair of arms. He was turned around to face the person. He had been lifted and so was eye to eye with them.

"Sneaking up on me, eh, laddie?" The voice questioned and George's eyes widened in horror as he saw that the man who was holding him had only one normal eye.

The other one was a shining ball of electric blue.

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To Be Continued

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