December, 2018.
Juliet
"Jennifer! Jennifer!" I screamed, throwing myself to the wet earth beside my sister and clutching her tightly to me. She was sobbing now, her burnt hand curled close to her chest.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" I yelled, looking furiously up at Zephyr and his followers – but they were gone. Vanished into the crowds like a bunch of scared rabbits. I stared wildly about, seething with anger and shock, but there was no sign of any of them.
I spat a string of foul names into the oblivious backs of the crowd, before Jennifer lurched in my arms and vomited copiously onto the grass.
My head was still spinning horribly and I don't really know how I did it; but somehow I led Jennifer away from the mad throng, and onto the shuttle bus back into Salisbury. Back in the town, I half-carried her onto a bench outside a convenience store wrapped in both our coats for extra warmth: she was shivering uncontrollably. I told her shakily to wait while I found something to treat her hand. After staggering about in the cold December night air for a while I was starting to think straight again, although I felt quite nauseous.
Two minutes later I was back with a small tub of burn cream, which I had slipped from the shelf into my pocket when I realised we only had twenty pence left in our purse. I had pretended to inspect a couple of packets of crisps before strolling out as nonchalantly as possible, knowing I was flushing. I had never shoplifted a thing in my life, and ushered Jennifer up of the bench and to the bus stop with many a quick glance behind, terrified the owner would clock the theft and come running after me. But the street remained quiet and still. At last the bus arrived, lit by warm yellow lights, and Jennifer and I got on. The bus driver looked us up and down, taking in our bedraggled appearance and our age. Luckily, Jennifer's face – still streaked with tears and the berry drink – was shadowed by her coat hood.
"You girlies by yourselves?" he queried, as he stamped our return tickets – and held onto them despite my outstretched hand.
"We're on our way back to our parents," I said quickly, the lies somehow tripping easily off my tongue now that I'd told so many. "We got separated by accident but they said to get this bus and they'll be waiting for us."
"Oh, all right then, love," said the driver, and handed over the ticket, to my relief. "Glad to hear that."
We climbed to the privacy of the upper deck, and the bus sped on its way. Jennifer recovered a little on the journey as I inspected the damage to her hand. To my relief it wasn't too bad – three fingers and half her palm were red and blistering, but I had thought it was going to be worse. Very gently I rubbed in the burn ointment, lots of it. The white cream felt cool and soothing on my own fingers. Jennifer winced, but said softly, "Thanks, Juliet."
She wasn't shaking so violently anymore and she took several deep breaths as we leaned together on the upper deck of the bus. "We've been idiots," she whispered eventually, with more than a trace of bitterness.
"I know," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Jen. I should have known it was just stupid, crazy Muggle stuff."
Jennifer stared down at her burned hand, greasy with cream, cradled in her lap. "You know what...I think I did all along. I just – hoped. I wanted to be with you at Hogwarts so much."
When she said this, I realised I felt the same; perhaps I had, really, known all along this wasn't the real thing. I had just convinced myself, in my desperation.
"And your poor hand," I whispered, gently touching her blistered palm. "We did what Gavin Hooker tried to do six years ago with that match. Now we're...we're not exactly the same."
Jennifer smiled just a little sadly, but then shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Juliet. It doesn't matter if people can tell us apart in future. What matters goes much deeper than that."
I put my arm around my sister and pulled her close, feeling a great wave of love for her envelope me. We stayed like this until the bus rolled up to our stop. The bus driver peered out, looking for our parents, so I forced a smile as we stepped off the bus and waved into the darkness, shouting "Hey Mum! Hey Dad!" as I marched confidently away, Jennifer following more slowly. Soon I heard the bus rumble away behind me and two minutes later we were outside the hotel. It was still drizzling. Jennifer took off the extra coat I had made her wear to help alleviate the shock, and wrapped it round me. "You'll freeze," she said simply, and refused to take it back. We hung around for a few minutes, hoping to slip in behind a group of other guests as we had done on our way out earlier. But it was so late, now, and everything was dead quiet: the hotel squatted before us, still and silent.
Eventually I peered into the lobby. There was a different person now at the desk, a small man with straw-coloured hair, not the suspicious woman receptionist from the afternoon.
"Come on," I murmured to Jennifer. "Let's just slip quietly up to our room. Act confident."
I smiled politely at the new receptionist as we walked past him to the door to the rooms.
"Evening..." he said, watching us.
I didn't linger. "Good evening!" I replied brightly, pulling Jennifer through the door. But as the door shut behind me I saw the man reach for something on the desk. My stomach fluttered a little in panic but he didn't come after us, and we carried on hurrying up the stairs to the first floor...
Where the stern-faced receptionist was waiting at the top, phone in one hand and her eyes boring into mine.
"Yes, thank you, Nick, these are the ones," she said into the phone, and hung up, as we stared up at her, Jennifer's hood falling back. Oh heck. Under the artificial white glare of the hotel lighting my sister looked even worse that I had realised. Her eyes were red and puffy and her face was pale apart from the strange purple stains that trickled down from her sticky, matted hair over which Zephyr had poured the last of the bottle's contents. The receptionist's sharp eyes took in her blistered hand and she sniffed. I realised then how strongly we both smelled of berry fumes – and Jennifer, a little, of vomit.
"Right, then. Downstairs, you two," said the receptionist with the kind of quiet authority nobody argues with. And soon we were back in the lobby, huddled on the brown leather sofa, in silent resignation. We'd been found out. There were no lies that would get us out of this: she had waited for our parents to turn up earlier, had checked that they had not, and left instructions with the next shift to inform her if and when we showed up again.
I refused to explain Jennifer's burned hand to this stranger, or to explain what we had been doing, but I had no choice but to give her Mum and Dad's mobile numbers when she informed us she would be dropping us at the police station unless we gave her a point of contact. Clearly, she thought we had run away from home.
I couldn't bear to listen to the conversation she had with Dad, who picked up on the third try, seventy miles away in Guildford. She had probably woken him up: it was past midnight.
Just an hour later Mum and Dad walked into the lobby, looking angrier than I had ever seen them. Mum was actually shaking with fury and shock. Dad pulled us both roughly towards the door as he muttered his thanks to the receptionist. We allowed ourselves to be manhandled into the car. Neither of them spoke a word until we were speeding along the main road, and then finally Mum said in a tight, clipped voice.
"You'd better explain yourselves very, very well, you two. Let's hear it."
I felt numb. How could I possibly explain it...they would never understand. Eventually I choked, "I – we – oh, Mum, Dad, we're so sorry!"
At this, Dad finally exploded. "SORRY? SORRY? IT'S TWO IN THE MORNING! WE HAVE JUST PICKED YOU UP FROM A GODAWFUL HOTEL WHEN YOU TOLD US YOU WERE STAYING WITH A FRIEND FROM SCHOOL! YOU'VE BEEN LYING TO US THROUGH YOUR TEETH FOR WEEKS, THE PAIR OF YOU! WE DON'T BLOODY CARE IF YOU'RE SORRY!"
Dad had never sworn at us before. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt Jennifer's shoulder quietly shake with sobs beside me.
"Jennifer looks as though she's been attacked, you don't look much better, now what – on – earth – were you two up to?" Dad wasn't driving very carefully; he was so angry he nearly went through a red light, swore again, and hit the brakes so hard we were all thrown forwards in our seats.
"We went to the Solstice," I blurted out at last. "We – oh, but it was so stupid, and it went completely wrong, please don't be angry, Dad, please..."
The mention of the Solstice knocked them both completely flat for a second. Then Mum twisted round in her seat to look at us.
"The Winter Solstice at Stonehenge? Are you crazy, Juliet? What on earth possessed you? And what happened to Jennifer?"
"She – she burnt her hand by accident – there was a ceremony that got kind of out of hand..."
"I can see that," said Mum icily. "And I can smell the booze on you a mile off. Sloe gin, and a lot of it. I would never have believed that my two girls would do this."
It was the disappointment behind her anger which finally did it.
"We thought," I mumbled, "that someone there knew how to make Jennifer into a witch."
Mum and Dad both went very quiet and I saw them exchange looks.
"But," I continued, the disappointment and shock of the evening, which had been burning in the pit of my stomach all evening, suddenly rising up into my throat and making it hard to speak, "they didn't. They didn't know anything. It was all fake magic." I finished the sentence in a croak, on the edge of tears again.
I could see Dad watching Jennifer in his rear view mirror, huddled completely silently in the back. He turned suddenly off the road and I realised we were pulling into a local hospital.
"We'll get Jennifer's hand checked here before we go home," was all he said.
We didn't get home until five a.m.
The good thing about Mum and Dad, though, was that as a rule they didn't bear grudges, and they considered fair punishment enough to bring any matter to a close. Despite the enormity of our misdemeanour this time was no exception. They had a long, stern talk with us both the next day, during which we were informed our pocket money would be stopped for the next six months, and that we would both make up for our escapade by spending several days of our holidays making ourselves useful (I cleaned the car inside and out, and helped Dad repaint the spare room; Jennifer, with her injured hand, did less physical work such as reorganising the files in the family bureau, shredding old bank statements, and slowly typing out Mum's invoices for her illustration commissions). It was also, obviously, made very clear that they expected us never, ever to do any such thing again.
After these few days, the storm, by mutual agreement, blew over, and Christmas Day was pretty much its usually cheery affair. Jennifer's hand was indeed not too bad. She would always have a shiny, jagged-edged scar across her palm but the hospital dressing came off after a few days and it healed quickly and cleanly.
Two weeks of holiday sounded a long time at the beginning but on the other side of Christmas the start of the next Hogwarts term felt so much closer. The days seemed to rush by in a blur. The more I slipped back into the routine and comfort of home, and the familiarity of my sister's company, the less inclined I felt to head back to Hogwarts, which seemed a distant dream. I spent almost every waking moment with Jennifer, but all too soon we were back at King's Cross – Jennifer with me this time as her term started the day after – and I was stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, then off again for one last, fierce hug with my sister, Artemis and Apollo hooting to each other – and then, I was speeding northwards again, alone...
Wanting to surprise her with an unexpected letter, I wrote a little note to Jennifer right there on the Hogwarts Express, and launched Artemis out of the train window with it when we were a half an hour into the journey, instead of waiting until the following morning. I put a postscript at the bottom of the letter to voice my so far unspoken resolution:
P.S. If there is another, genuine, way to do this, I promise I will find it.