August, 2018.
Juliet
No one answered.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Mum read from the letter, sounding completely floored. "This is some kind of joke..."
"It's not," I said quietly.
"But, Juliet," Dad said, running his hand through his hair, "This letter says you're a witch! Of course it's a joke - it has to be a joke!"
"It's not a joke," said Jennifer. My sister had gone very pale, her eyes shining strangely. "We have – we have powers. We can do stuff that's not normal."
I knew we were both seeing the wriggling match in Gavin Hooker's hand, the wood contorting grotesquely as it struggled free.
"Powers? Rubbish! Like what? And don't say magic, there just isn't such a thing, you know there isn't! This is some kind of hoax."
Dad's a bank manager. He's very intelligent, but he's a practical chap. After a pause, Jennifer related the story of Gavin and the match and I explained about the mysterious way we had escaped from the beech tree.
"We've known for ages," I said earnestly. "We thought they were fairy powers. Honestly, Dad."
Mum and Dad looked at each other for a very long time, then at us both. Dad took a deep breath.
"Okay, " he said eventually, although I could see he still wasn't fully convinced. "Okay. Well! A witch! Right then. Excellent. What are we supposed to do about – about this? We await your owl – we're supposed to reply by owl? Well, that's easy! I'll just nab one from the woods! For goodness' sake." He gestured helplessly at the letter. "And as you say – where is Jennifer's letter?"
"I'm a witch too," Jennifer said in a small voice, clearly on the brink of tears. "My letter must have been lost – it must have!"
"Yeah, mine was delivered by an owl, that's not reliable!" I chipped in. "Yours could've dropped it, or got lost – or hit by a drone – or eaten by, well, whatever eats owls..."
"I'm sure we'll find out," said Mum briskly. Oddly, she seemed to be processing the news much better than Dad and gave me a funny little look, as though she knew something I didn't. "Let's give it twenty-four hours before jumping to conclusions, shall we? I'm sure your letter is on its way, Jennifer. Let's get ready for our picnic, and maybe yours will arrive this evening or with tomorrow's post."
Jennifer gave a little smile, slightly cheered by everyone's optimism.
We cleared up the breakfast things in thoughtful silence and Mum gathered together the picnic food. We both tried to put our new phones in our pockets but Mum put her foot down – "Oh no, not at the picnic, girls! You can play with them later."
Thirty minutes later we were climbing down the steep cliff path to our favourite beach, a hidden cove not many people knew about. We built a giant sand tortoise together, then threw ourselves into the sea, which wasn't too cold after the long, hot summer. Splashing amongst the waves, we almost forgot about the letter for a little while.
After we'd eaten the picnic food Mum actually produced a birthday cake from the bottom of the basket, and candles, although the wind kept blowing them out for us so we couldn't make a proper wish. I caught Jennifer's eye on the third attempt. She looked a little pink and flustered. I knew what she wanted to wish for, as it was the same thing I wanted. But Mum laughed and said she wasn't going to waste any more matches and so we cut the cake without wishing at all.
When we got home we saw immediately that there was no owl, no letter, and a little furrow appeared in Jenifer's forehead. We didn't mention it that evening. But she played very quietly on her phone that evening and I stared at mine, not really seeing it at all. Tomorrow there would be a letter. There had to be...
Breakfast next morning was a little strained. Dad always left early for the bank so he was gone before we got downstairs. Mum works from home, illustrating children's books, so was in the kitchen getting breakfast for us. She watched us both anxiously as we poured cereal and milk into our bowls, neither of us speaking. Jennifer's and my eyes flicked constantly towards the window where the owl had appeared yesterday.
Nine o'clock and we put down our cereal spoons in unison, our eyes drawn to the window again...and this time, my heart caught in my throat. Jennifer made a strangled noise beside me. A speck had appeared in the sky, zooming closer towards us...a bird, a large bird –
"It's another owl!"
We both dived for the window. Jennifer's fingers slipped on the catch and I had to help her. We threw it open just as the owl reached us, soaring into the kitchen in a flurry of magnificent tawny feathers. He skidded across the table, and Jennifer, laughing, flushed with excitement, ran to him.
And stopped dead. The owl wasn't holding a letter in his beak and he was looking at me. Not Jennifer, but me. And holding out his leg expectantly.
"Wh-what does he want?" I stammered, looking at Jennifer, and Mum.
Jennifer looked completely stunned. Then, without a word, she turned and walked rapidly out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a snap.
"Hey, Jennifer – Jen! Wait!" I started after her, but Mum caught my arm.
"Leave her for a minute, Juliet," she said quietly.
I struggled. "Let go!"
"Wait, darling. I think this owl needs an answer, don't you? We need to write and tell this school – this Hogwarts – that we've got the letter and you'll be going."
I glared at her and wrenched my arm free. "I'm going to find Jennifer. You write to this McGonagall woman. Ask her where Jen's letter is. If she's not invited, I'm not going."
And I stalked out of the kitchen, as Mum sighed and reached for some paper and a biro.
I'll never forget the few days which followed the second owl. The worst thing was that for the first time in my life Jennifer couldn't talk to me for those few days while my Hogwarts letter lurked in the corner of the kitchen, like a sinister creature crouching there, silent and cruel. She turned her face to the wall each night as I whispered, pleading, "Jen...please, let's talk about this...we still don't know that yours hasn't been lost." I always knew that she was lying awake, too.
I didn't bother to ask what Mum had written in her reply to the McGonagall woman. I wasn't going to this Hogwarts place without Jennifer, even if it meant living like a non-witch forever. I didn't care. I would have my twin sister, and that was all I wanted.
Dad still seemed to be ruminating deeply on the new situation. The concept of magic was something he was struggling to get his head around. I could tell he wasn't going to accept it fully until he had visual proof. He kept shooting me thoughtful glances, and giving his head a little shake. Mum, on the other hand, after the initial shock, seemed to be taking it in her stride.
A couple of days later when we were all sat in the living room she said quietly to me, "Juliet, we'll need to think about getting you your school things before the first of September. There was a list, but I don't know where –"
I cut her off abruptly. "I'm not going."
Dad lowered his paper just a little, listening. On the other side of the room Jennifer's forehead was kinked and she wasn't looking at either of us.
"But –"
"I'm not going. Jennifer's a witch too, that's obvious from the times we've accidentally used magic. I'm not going to any school that picks and chooses like that and would try a dirty trick like splitting up sisters – not just sisters – twin sisters! What sort of an awful place is that? Either that or they've just made a stupid mistake. If they want to take me, they just have to offer Jen a place too, else I'm staying here."
It was the longest speech I'd made since my letter arrived. Mum fell silent and exchanged a worried glance with Dad across the room. I saw Jennifer's mouth twitch into a tiny smile.
That night, for the first time in three nights, Jennifer didn't turn her face to the wall.
"Thanks, Juliet," she whispered, in the dark. I could see my face reflected in her eyes. I knew if I could magnify my reflection I would see her face in my eyes, and so on ad infinitum... I reached across the gap between our twin beds and we hooked fingers together, like we used to do when we were little and making a wish.
"I meant it. I won't go unless they offer you a place."
"I know...and now we know, don't we, they aren't fairy powers, we're witches. Witches, Juliet! We can teach ourselves how to use this magic without going to any stupid school. I bet we can work it out...and we can Google it, there has to be something on the internet about all this, there's obviously other witches and wizards in the country and loads of stuff's going to have ended up online..."
We talked late into the night until our eyes grew heavy and we fell asleep, fingers still hooked together.
But when we walked down to the breakfast table I knew immediately something was wrong. Mum was clutching a piece of parchment in her hand and one glance showed me the discarded envelope on the table and the tawny owl perched on the chair chewing up a piece of Weetabix. The look Mum gave us as we walked in the room – anxious, scared, pitying – stopped us both dead.
"What is it, Mum? Mum?"
"Oh, darlings," she said tremulously. "I'm so terribly sorry. This is the most awful – I don't know how to tell you." Her voice shook uncontrollably and then she thrust the parchment at us, saying, "Try to understand. You'll have to read it. Just –" but she trailed off.
I took the parchment, and scanned it quickly. As I read, nausea and dizziness overcame me and I sank into the nearest chair. Jennifer remained standing, her face white.
Dear Mrs Belstone,
Thank you for your reply and your enquiry into a possible place at Hogwarts for your second daughter, Jennifer Belstone. However, I am sorry to tell you that we have no record of a second witch in residence at your address.
I appreciate that this would appear to be a delicate situation and an unusual one as you say the girls are twin sisters. However, our records are never wrong: there is only one magical person living with you. It is my painful duty to inform you that your daughter Jennifer cannot, therefore, be a witch, and as such we cannot offer her a place at the school.
You detailed two circumstances of magical activity in which both girls were involved; however, I would suggest that each magical outcome was the sole work of Juliet Belstone.
I understand from your letter that Juliet is reluctant to attend Hogwarts without the company of her sister. This does present certain complications which will be better explained in person.
I will call at your residence this evening at six o'clock to discuss this further.
Kind regards,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Jennifer didn't speak. Nor did I for several long, terrible minutes as we digested the contents of the letter. The sole work of Juliet Belstone... Making that lit match wriggle out of Gavin's fingers – getting us both out of that tree when we were going to fall – it was me. Not we. Just me.
A funny rasping sound made us all turn our head. The owl, which I'd forgotten about, was choking on its dry Weetabix.
I ignored it, took a long, deep breath, then held the letter out at arm's length and dropped it on the kitchen floor. I deliberately trod on it as I walked out. Jennifer stayed behind, still as a statue, and for the first time ever I was glad she wasn't with me. I didn't know how to meet her eyes.
I just couldn't take it in. For eleven years we had grown up together as one person, needing no other friends. Her body was mine, every lock of dark hair, every fingernail, down to the tiniest freckle on our pale skin. And now these poisonous letters came pushing their way into our perfect twin lives to say that Jennifer and I were fundamentally different.
I paced up and down our bedroom for what seemed like hours, then abruptly got into bed and pulled the covers over my head. It made a den, a space where I could be alone with my whirlwind of thoughts. All the time I knew Jennifer was downstairs, and as though our brains were intrinsically linked I felt her emotions coursing through me like a powerful drug. Pain, hurt, humiliation, denial. Fury. But most of all fear. After a while, exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep.
A long time later I woke suddenly and knew from the golden quality of the sunlight filtering into our bedroom that it was late afternoon, and checked my phone. Eighteen minutes to six. My stomach gave a horrible jolt. This McGonagall woman was going to be arriving in less than twenty minutes.
Still, I was the tiniest bit curious to see what a real, adult witch looked like. I got up slowly and smoothed down my long hair, gnawed off a hangnail, then steeled myself and opened the bedroom door. I felt groggy after my long afternoon sleep and lightheaded from lack of lunch, but also slightly sick. I knew I was going to have to fight my corner in a bit and I didn't feel physically up to it at all.
I entered the living room to find Mum and Dad already there, waiting tensely. Dad would have been home from the bank for only thirty minutes or so but I could see he had been fully updated. Jennifer was there too and we gave each other a long look that spoke volumes. We were ready to battle. I walked across the room and stood by her side, and we held hands tightly. Dad gave a little sigh as he looked at us.
"Girls, girls," he said, softly. "Don't make this harder than it already is..."
Neither of us replied. We were watching the clock's hands inch steadily closer to six o'clock, every nerve taut with waiting. And yet we still all jumped when the doorbell rang shrilly.
Mum bustled out of the room, looking decidedly nervous. It wasn't every day a witch came to the house, after all.
A murmur of voices, then Mum was back in the living room, followed by a very tall woman in black robes and a long purple cloak, with a pointed hat in her hand. Her greying hair was scraped into a very tight bun, and she wore a brisk, but kind expression as she looked around the room and settled her appraising gaze on me. I couldn't help it – I blinked.
The witch nodded briefly to each of us in turn. "Good evening."
