Alright guys, chapter 2. Hope you enjoy, don't hate too hard!
All warnings are in chapter one, please go back and review if unsure.
I apologize as this chapter will also follow the book very closely. I promise it won't stay this way. Just stay with me until chapter 5. Becomes very AU after chapter 5.
As always, I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Much is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter two
Also, note: if it is in italics like this, it is parsel-tongue
Nearly ten years had passed since that fateful night. Not much had changed in all those years, except new pictures on the mantle above the fireplace of a large boy growing up. There was no sign of the twins on any surface. No pictures, no colorful drawings on the fridge signed by them. In fact, it seemed to many as if they didn't even live there.
Yet, they were there, still asleep for the moment, but that wasn't to last long. Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.
"Up! Get up! Now!"
Anwen woke with a start, wide awake, before shaking Harry beside her who blinked at her groggily.
"Up!" she screeched. Anwen heard her aunt make her way into the kitchen and what sounded like a frying pan being set up on the stove got her really moving, shaking the whispers of the dream. It had been pleasant for once, even if she couldn't make sense of it; small, colorful lights dancing across a night sky, seeming to play with each other. She shook Harry again as he had shut his eyes again.
"Harry!" she hissed softly. As he opened his eyes to scrunch his face at her, she sighed and shoved his glasses non to gently onto his face for him. They were not going to be getting up later than was expected of them today. Her ribs were still tender.
As she opened the door a crack, their aunt was already approaching it again.
"Are you both up yet?" she demanded.
"Nearly." Harry mumbled out behind her.
"Well, get a move on, I want the demon to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn! Freak, you are to clean the kitchen until it shines. I want everything to be perfect on my Duddy's birthday."
Harry groaned behind her and Anwen quickly lowered her gaze to the floor.
"What did you say?" their aunt hissed.
"Nothing, Aunt Petunia." Harry replied as Anwen quickly shook her head.
Dudley's birthday- had Harry forgotten? A quick check confirmed he had. It also confirmed a spider on his hair, as was common. They did live in the cupboard under the stairs after all. It was the spider's home too.
"Brat," she hissed reaching out. She gently scooped on the eight-legged creature before placing it on the only low shelf they had. "How could you forget something as important as his birthday? It's only his favorite day of the year."
Harry grinned at her impishly. "Too good of a dream to remember. I swear there was a flying motorcycle in it!" he hissed excitedly. They had learned a long time ago that they could hiss a language that the Dursley's didn't seem to understand. And if done softly enough, they couldn't hear it either. Plus, it was the only way she would talk. The Dursley's thought her mute after the incident on her fifth birthday, not that they minded. It wasn't like anyone knew she existed.
When they were fully decent and ready to face the day, they headed down the hall into the kitchen. It seemed as if the table had disappeared under the amount of presents under it and Anwen briefly wondered where the Dursley's would even eat.
It did look like Dudley had gotten that new computer he wanted, as well as a second TV and a racing bike; though neither twin had yet to figure out why he wanted a racing bike. Their cousin was fat and very round; he hated exercise of all sorts unless it was punching his smaller cousins. Anwen was his favorite as she wasn't allowed to be in the view of others, except Mrs. Figg and Dudley's friends, so no one ever noticed she was hurt. Harry had also become very good at running. He might not look it, but he was very fast and had learned to use his small frame from an early age.
They were both very small for their age, and the twins often wondered if it was due to them sharing the space under the stairs. They also looked even smaller as they were dwarfed in Dudley's old clothing; the only clothes they were allowed to wear. Anwen always was forced to wear sweater so they wouldn't be reminded of what was attached to her. They both had thin faces, with pitch black hair and bright green eyes. Harry wore round glasses that were held together by a piece of scotch tape from all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing either of them like about their appearance were their matching scars that they had had for as long as they remember. Harry's was small on the forehead, while Anwen's took up most of the left side of her face and cheek. The first time Harry remembered asking his aunt a question had been how they had gotten their scars.
"In the car crash where your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."
Don't asking questions. That had been the first rule they had learned in the Dursley house.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Anwen turned the bacon, and Harry polished the wooden cabinets.
"Comb your hair!" he barked as a greeting.
About once a week he would shout over the morning newspaper that they needed haircuts. They must've had more haircuts than all the other children in Harry's class combined together, but it made no difference, Harry's hair simply grew that way- all over the place. Anwen's hair was just as determined to be long in matted. Not really messy as Harry's was prone to do, but she was just used to the look of it not being brushed. She remembered in particular one day they were going to send her to school, and her aunt had yanked and pulled mercilessly until every mat was out. Her hair had been sleek, falling to her hips. Then they had washed it in that freezing water, and when her aunt had removed the towel to run a comb again, it was just as dry and matted as before they started. Aunt Petunia had never touched her hair again and banned her from school, sending only Harry.
Anwen was frying the eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Aunt Petunia often called him her sweet angel, but Harry and Anwen only knew him as fat pig in a wig. Never in English, mind you, or where the Dursley's could hear, but as the twins made eye contact across the kitchen, they smiled inwardly at the insider joke.
Anwen started to put the plates of food on the table, and Harry hurried over to help as there wasn't much room to do so with all the presents. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."
"Darling, you haven't counted Aunt Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."
"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. The twins, who saw a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down their small share of the food as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented the same danger, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work to Anwen, as he seemed to really be struggling to come up with an answer. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.
"Oh," said Dudley and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
Uncle Vernon just chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair. Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Anwen and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He war ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.
"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in the twin's direction.
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror. Anwen was with his thought process for once, but Harry looked hopeful. Every year for Dudley' birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and Anwen were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there, but Anwen had always liked the safety her home provided. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she had ever owned.
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, glaring at them as if it was their fault Mrs. Figg broke her leg. Anwen sighed softly. She actually liked looking at the pictures and petting her current cats; Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tuffy.
"We could phone Marge," suggested Uncle Vernon.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them."
The Dursley's often talked like this around them, as if they weren't there- or rather, that they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. Or a demon.
"What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?"
"On vacation in Majorca," Aunt Petunia snapped. "And she doesn't know the demon exists."
"You could just leave us here?" Harry put in hopefully.
Aunt Petunia looked as if she had just swallowed a lemon.
"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.
"We won't blow up the house," said Harry as Anwen nodded, but they weren't listening.
"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "…and leave them in the car…"
"That car's new; they're not sitting in it alone…"
Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying- it had been years since he had actually cried- but he knew that if he screwed his face and wailed, his mother would give hi anything he wanted.
"Diny Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.
"I… don't… want… them… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always spoil everything!" he shot them a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.
Just then, the doorbell rang- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Anwen ducked behind Harry at the new arrival, thankfully her slightly smaller frame allowed her to hide behind his baggy clothes. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their back or to the ground with Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.
Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursley's car with Piers and Dudley, while Anwen was crouched at his feet on the floorboard in terror. They were on their way to the zoo for the first time. It was the very first time out in public with other people, for Anwen. Their aunt and Uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken them aside.
"I'm warning you," he said, putting his large purple face between the twins's, eye darting between them. "Any funny business, anything at all- and you'll both be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."
"We're not going to do anything," said Harry and Anwen shook her head earnestly, "honestly…"
But Uncle Vernon did not believe them, no one did.
The problem was, strange things always happened around them and it was no good telling the Dursley's that they didn't make it happen. Especially with Anwen's special appearances.
One time Aunt Petunia had been trying to force one of Dudley's old sweaters (brown with orange puff-balls) that was especially ugly over his head. But the harder she pulled, the smaller it got until it would've fit a hand puppet. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished. But they weren't always as lucky.
He's once been caught on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley and his gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise than anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursley's had received an angry letter from the school's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he's tried to do 9as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of their cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed the wind caught him mid-jump.
But Anwen believed differently. She believed magic had helped him, not that she would say as much. The last time she said the word magic was the last day she had spoken English. But if there was no magic, than her existence, her problem, did not make any sense at all.
But today, they were both determined that nothing was going to go wrong. I was even worth being with Piers and Dudley to be spending the day outside the neighborhood. And while Anwen was mostly terrified the public would find out her secret, she was excited to see the world. Though of all the places, why did it have to be a zoo?
While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain and things: people at work, Harry, the council, Anwen, the bank, and the twins were just to name a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.
"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.
"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, seeming to remember suddenly. "It was flying."
Anwen pinched him hard in the leg. As if a flying motorcycle wound help this day go any better.
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"
Dudley and Piers sniggered. Anwen just leveled him a glare as he glanced at her.
"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."
Anwen could tell by the look on his face he had wished he hadn't said anything. Anwen understood. Even if he mentioned a cartoon or dream, if it was something that did not exist or seemed 'magical' in any way, their aunt and uncle took it to extreme levels to make sure they understood that such things could not be true. They seemed to treat it as if such things could be dangerous.
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families, making Anwen very claustrophobic and overwhelmed quickly, but Harry never let go of her hand. She was thankful for the hat her uncle had thrown at her to hide herself in, as well as her ever present baggy sweater, as she kept her eyes on Harry's worn shoes. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Anwen what they wanted before they could hurry them away, they bought them cheap lemon ice pops. It wasn't bad to either. To Anwen, it was actually the best thing she had ever tasted as she ate it quickly, watching a gorilla scratch its head looking remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.
Anwen hissed quietly her thoughts to her twin and he grinned before responding he had just thought the same thing. They shared a knowing grin before moving on.
It was turning out to be one of the best mornings Anwen had had in a very long time, minus the amount of people surrounding her. Anwen and Harry were careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting them. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbockers glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry and Anwen were allowed to share the first.
Anwen felt that after all that, she should have known it was all too good to last.
After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was asleep.
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.
"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
The twins moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. Anwen half-heartedly wondered if the snake had died of boredom itself. "I think it's sad that it's stuck in here." She hissed softly to Harry, after making sure their uncle had moved off as well.
Harry nodded to her before freezing. Looking back, the snake's beady eyes were open. Slowly, ever slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry and Anwen.
It winked.
They stared. Harry looked around, as if to see if anyone else had noticed the strange occurrence. They hadn't and no one else was watching but them. Anwen watched her brother look back to the snake before winking back. She giggled.
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave them a look that said plainly:
"I get that all the time."
Anwen jerked. Harry didn't seem to realize it, but the snake had talked. It had talked. In the same language she used to communicate with Harry.
"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, and Anwen wondered if he even realized he had slipped into their language. "It must be really annoying."
The snake nodded vigorously.
"Where do you come from?" Anwen asked, giving her brother a hint. She was his eyes widen as he glanced at her from the corner of her eye.
The snake jabbed it's tail at a little sign next to the glass. They both peered at it.
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
"Was it nice there?"
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and they read on : This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see- so you've never been to Brazil?" Harry asked.
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind them made all three of them jump. "DUDLEY! MRS. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.
"Out of my way, you," he said, punching Anwen in the stomach. Caught by surprise, she fell into Harry and they both crumbled to the concrete floor. What happened next was so fast no one saw how it happened- one second Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.
They both sat up and Harry gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.
As the snake slid swiftly past them, Anwen heard the low hissing voice again that was not her brother's said, "Brazil, here I come… Thanks, amigos."
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as the twins had seen, the snake hadn't done anything but snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you Harry?"
Uncle Vernon had waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting onto Harry and Anwen. He was so angry, he could barely speak. He managed to say, "Go- cupboard-stay- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.
The twins lay in their dark cupboard much later, wishing they had some way to tell the time. They couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, they couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for food.
They'd lived with the Dursley's for almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as they could remember, ever since they had been babies and their parents had died in a car crash. They couldn't remember being in the car when their parents died. They both dreamed a strange vision though: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain where each of their scars are. Sometimes they even heard a woman screaming. This, they supposed, was the crash, though they could never figure out why they both saw a green light. Neither of them could remember their parents at all. Their aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course they were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of the in the house.
When they were younger, they had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take them away, but it had never happened: the Dursleys were their only family. Yet sometimes Harry would tell Anwen of strangers on the street that seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed in all green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people seemed to be that they seemed to vanish the moment Harry tried to get a closer look.
Anwen thought those were better than what she saw. She had tried to tell him once, but at what it was implying, he had shut her down and she never brought it up again. Often when she was working in the back garden, little creatures that she had found no better description of than fairies, often came chattering around her while she worked. Some would grab her hair, her clothes and chatter nonsense. But sometimes, one or two would whisper stories of a world that made her heart ache and wonder if she really was a demon.