Chapter One: First Outing Gone Wrong

Heather opened her eyes. She had been having a very excellent dream, she thought... something about a... motorbike? That was particularly odd, because Heather didn't really like motorbikes. Her brother did, but not Heather. She didn't fit in with the car racing video gamers at her school. Come to think of it, she didn't fit in with any kids at 's. Still, at least she had Harry. Who was currently fast asleep beside her.

She gently shook him awake. "Mm," he murmered.

"Harry," she hissed. "Harry, if we don't get up soon, Aunt Petunia's gonna -"

She was interrupted by a harsh rap on their 'bedroom' door. "Up!" Aunt Petunia said harshly. "Get up! Now!"

"Do that," Heather finished.

"Up!" Aunt Petunia ordered before walking back along the corridor.

Harry woke up, fumbling for his glasses. Heather handed him them. "Thanks, sis," he muttered.

Heather nodded in acknowledgement. "Come on, if we don't get up, Aunt Petunia's gonna skin us alive."

The pair got dressed in the small space their cupboard gave them. It wasn't really big enough for one, let alone two, but they had long since learnt to live with it. It wasn't like anything was ever going to get any better. They lived with their aunt and uncle, who absolutely loathed them. Neither were quite sure why, though Harry had once had a theory about a birth fraud. He had always been making up fantasies like this. When they were six, he had tried to convince Heather that they had a long lost grandfather who was searching desperately for them, but the Dursleys were keeping them a guarded secret. Heather had listened out of solidarity, but she had thought the whole idea was ludicrous and moderately concerning. Luckily, he'd grown out of his desperate imagination phase in recent years. Hopefully.

"Are you two up yet?" a high voice screeched. Aunt Petunia was back.

"Nearly," Harry said.

"Well, get a move on," Aunt Petunia ordered. "I want you two to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn. I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Heather felt her heart sink. She'd actually managed to forget about her cousin's eleventh birthday and, by the groan that followed their aunt's statement, so had Harry.

"What was that?" Aunt Petunia demanded.

"Nothing," they said in unison.

After getting Harry's socks out from under their camp bed, the pairwandered off down the hall to the kitchen. Heather stopped to look in her reflection in the hall mirror. She sighed. She'd often wished her hair was thicker, lighter, longer, her cheeks pinker, her skeleton less pronounced - but it was not to be. Her hair stayed thin, short and black, her cheeks stayed pale, her figure stayed stick thin. She'd just have to learn to live with it.

"You okay?" Harry asked, squeezing her hand.

Heather turned away from the mirror. "Yeah. Let's go."

The table was - unsurprisingly - piled nearly to the ceiling with large and expensive presents for Dudley Dursley. Apparently they had the money for a racing bike, two television sets and a top-notch computer but not actual clothes for Heather and Harry. Harry sometimes complained about this kind of thing, but Heather found it a fact of life. They'd never be treated the same as Dudley, so they should just make do with what they had. Which was each other. Could be worse, right?

"Why does he want a racing bike?" Harry muttered to Heather. "He never moves from the television."

Heather couldn't help but giggle. "What are you laughing at?" Aunt Petunia snapped.

She sobered up immediately. "Nothing."

Her aunt glared at her. "Hurry up with the bacon, it's getting cold."

The two twins ran over to where the bacon was sizzling in the pan. They looked very alike with jet black hair and pale skin, their figures literal sticks. Of course, this wasn't helped by the fact the only things they had to wear were Dudley's old clothes, which were at least five times too big. It only added to their neglected appearance, which was already very apparent with hair that went in every direction except for the ones that made sense and their odd scars.

Heather's ran across her left cheek in a jagged red line as Harry's cut across his forehead in a lightning bolt. Harry didn't really know why his was shaped so queerly, but he liked it, god knows why. It didn't help their popularity issues - in fact, it seemed to do more to increase them - but he loved it nonetheless. Heather, meanwhile, hated hers. It made her stand out in a crowd, and while her approach to life was very much 'no good worrying about things that aren't going to change', for this she would have to make an exception. It was very determinedly red despite the fact she'd got it nearly ten years ago, and no matter how hard her or anyone else tried to heal it, it never went away. The very first question she or Harry remembered asking their aunt was how they got it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," Aunt Petunia snapped. "Don't ask questions." Of course, back then, they hadn't known how 'don't ask questions' would become a phrase heard so many times they started muttering it in their sleep. Ever since then, Heather had obeyed the rule. Harry? Not so much.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen, his large frame barely fitting through the door. He was Dudley's build - that is to say, unnaturaly large. He had an equally fat moustache matching the black of his balding hair and pigish brown eyes potruding from the sphere of his head. "Comb your hair!" he barked at Harry.

"Again?" Heather muttered. "Didn't he get you to do that yesterday?"

"And the day before," Harry confirmed glumly.

Dudley entered the room. He was like his father in resembling a giant beach ball, so huge it looked like he had been blown up like a balloon. The only noticeable difference between him and his father was that he'd inherited his mother's blonde hair and blue eyes, though not her giraffe-like neck.

The twins set the plates down on the table as Dudley counted his presents, piggy eyes narrowed in concentration. "Thirty-six," he finally said. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy," Aunt Petunia said, pointing.

"All right, thirty-seven then," Dudley said, fists clenched.

"Oh no," Harry muttered. "Better finish breakfast soon. Major Dudley tantrum coming." Heather nodded, eating her bacon as fast as possible.

"And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today," Aunt Petunia said quickly. "How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

"So I'll have thirty ... thirty..." Dudley furrowed his brow. Thirty-nine, Heather wanted to say, but she knew commenting would never go down well with her aunt and uncle.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia said.

"Oh." Dudley sat down to open his first present, anger forgotten. "All right then."

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father," Uncle Vernon chuckled, ruffling Dudley's hair. Not exactly, Heather thought, but again, speaking her mind never went down well. "'Atta boy, Dudley!"

The phone rang. Aunt Petunia went to answer it as Uncle Vernon, Harry and Heather watched Dudley unwrap his presents. He had indeed gotten a racing bike, a new television set, a VCR, video camera, a remote control airplane and sixteen new computer games. Heather shook her head. Somethings never changed.

Or so she thought, because at that very moment her aunt came back in with a grave look on her face and a shock for them all. "Bad news, Vernon. Mrs Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in the twins' direction. Every year Dudley and his gang would go somewhere exciting with his parents, leaving Harry and Heather with Mrs Figg, an ancient old woman with no electricity and way too many cats. It sounded like this year would be an exception, though.

Harry and Heather exchanged a half-excited, half-cautious look. Could this really be happening?

"Now what?" Aunt Petunia asked furiously.

"Poor Mrs Figg," Heather whispered. "I wonder if she'll be okay..."

"Never mind that," Harry hissed. Heather looked at him. "What? Okay, I know I should feel sorry for her, but just think, sis! It'll be a whole year before we have to see Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again!"

Heather shook her head. She knew it was wrong, but she was glad too. For the first time ever, they would be able to join Dudley on his trip. It was a once-in-a-lifetime treat, and she knew it.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. Heather's heart sunk. Uncle Vernon's sister Marge loathed Harry and Heather even more than their aunt and uncle did, if that was possible.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them." Heather breathed out. She might not want to see Mrs Figg's cats, but she wanted to see Aunt Marge's dogs even less.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," Aunt Petunia replied.

"You could just leave us here," Harry said hopefully. Heather nodded eagerly. This would be a once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity. While what to do would probably differ between her and Harry, they both agreed being home alone would be way better than home with the Dursleys.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" Aunt Petunia snarled, whipping her head around.

"We won't blow up the house," Harry said, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly. Heather's heart jumped. "...and leave them in the car..."

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone..."

Heather heard a loud wail. Her heart sunk right back down as she turned to see Dudley 'crying'. He wasn't really crying - Heather had known him long enough to know that - but simply faking tears to get what he wanted. Unfortunately, it worked.

Aunt Petunia threw her arms around her son. "Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!"

"I... don't... want... them... t-t-to come!" Dudley wailed. "They always sp-spoil everything!" He shot the twins an evil grin from over his mother's shoulder.

The doorbell rang loudly, sending a ring along the hall and to the kitchen. "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" Aunt Petunia said fretfully. She ran out and came back a second later with Dudley's current best friend, Piers Polkiss, and his mother. Dudley stopped crying at once.

...

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, and Heather, who was 'cautiously optimistic', were sitting in the back of the car with Dudley and Piers, on their way to the zoo for the first time in their lives. It was something they'd always dreamed of, and Heather was currently keeping deadly silent for fear of jinxing it. She loved animals (except for the ones belonging to Mrs Figg and Aunt Marge) so the idea of an entire park dedicated to saving and housing animals really enthused her.

Their aunt and uncle weren't the happiest about the arrangement, as Dudley and Piers certainly weren't, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They had no other option, given most childminders would need some sort of heads up, but Uncle Vernon had been sure to warn them about what might happen if they went out of line.

"I'm warning you," he had said, pulling them aside. "I'm warning you now, children - any funny business, from either of you - and you'll both be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"Okay," Heather had said. She wasn't interested in getting on her uncle's bad side. Not today.

"We're not going to do anything," Harry had said. Heather refrained from elbowing him. This really wasn't going to help. "Honestly..." But, what d'you know, their uncle ignored him.

It wasn't anything they weren't used to. Their aunt and uncle had been ignoring them whenever they said anything like that, and secretly, Heather didn't blame him. It wasn't that he was right, exactly. But Heather knew that it had to be difficult to understand that they weren't causing all the weird things around them to happen.

Harry, for one, had a tendency to grow his hair back after every haircut. It was an odd habit, they both knew, and neither were completely sure how he did it. All they knew was that every time Aunt Petunia would take them to the hairdressers, Harry would always come out looking like he had never been. This only seemed to intensify her aunt's determination to keep Heather's hair in check, resulting in her having never grown her hair out past the shoulders.

It wasn't as if Heather hadn't had her own fair share of odd co-incidences. Once, when they were eight, Dudley had been picking on a little girl. She was younger than him, only about six, and a great deal smaller. It wasn't as if it was a fair fight, so Heather had stepped in - but the second she'd opened her mouth, Dudley was sprawled on the floor crying, his knees covered in blood. When asked about this, Heather and Harry would always say they had no idea what happened, but it didn't really help given that Dudley's friends were always first to name her. Even Dudley was swearing blind that she had tripped him.

The tripping story was actually a surprisingly unique one. Most of Heather's classmates were convinced she had never touched Dudley, yet blamed her nonetheless. Baffled, the teachers hadn't punished her - after all, how can you punish a child for something they could never have done - but had unfortunately found it necessary to alert her aunt and uncle. It wouldn't have mattered. Dudley had told them everything.

This sort of thing happened a lot - a sweater Harry hated had inexplicably shrunk, they had ended up on the school roof while running from Dudley - but the most confusing incident was actually set to happen that very day.

Not that they knew it. Harry was currently absorbed in the idea of 'nothing's going to go wrong' and while Heather was a little more apprehensive, her mind was still being occupied by the thought of going to the zoo. They could almost drown out their uncle's complaints.

Vernon liked complaining. As Harry put it, his favourite topics were people at work, the twins, the council, the twins, the bank and the twins. Today, though, neither Heather nor Harry were the subject of conversation. In fact, this time it was a subject Heather moderately agreed with him on, though she would never be quite so rude about it. Motorbikes.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he huffed.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," Harry said. Heather looked at him, eyes wide. Partly because this could never end well, and partly because she'd just remembered she'd had the exact same dream. "It was flying."

To neither twins' surprise, Uncle Vernon nearly drove the car into a wall. Heather gulped, anticipating what was to come. Sure enough, he turned to face Harry, face red and eyes popping. "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" he roared.

"I know they don't," Harry said quickly. "It was only a dream."

"Uncle Vernon, it wasn't real," Heather added. She'd have to tell Harry about her own dream later. "Please don't be mad at Harry."

Of course, it didn't matter in the slightest how many times they this, because Uncle Vernon was never going to listen. It could be dreams, television or even video games - it was all the same in the Dursleys' eyes. Unnatural. And unnatural things could never cross the minds of the Potters. Harry was convinced they thought it would give them ideas.

...

The zoo was filled with people ranging from Dursley-ish to model-looking, meaning just about everyone seemed to be crowded onto the same small plain of animals and enclosures. Heather had never seen anything quite like it. She was quite annoyed at Dudley for laughing, partly because she felt sorry for the animals, and partly because he was ruining the magic. She nearly yelled at him. Nearly.

Still, it was a good time. The Dursleys had - unsurprisingly - brought Dudley and Piers ice creams bigger than Heather's whole head, and thankfully, the van lady had asked Heather and Harry what they wanted before they had time to be ushered away. Rather annoyed, the Dursleys had brought the twins cheap lemon ice lollies.

They strolled along, careful to walk a little behind the others in order to avoid Dudley and Piers. They didn't mind. They still got to enjoy the zoo in all its glory, and it gave Heather time to tell Harry about her dream. "Weird, huh?" she asked, licking her ice lolly. "Both of us having the exact same dream on the exact same night."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Maybe just another co-incidence?"

"It's possible," Heather said. "I mean, weirder things have happened to us, right?"

"You mean the roof situation, the sweater situation or the three million hair situations?" Harry asked. Heather laughed.

Lunch was next. To their delight, Dudley complained about his knickerbocker glory so Harry and Heather were allowed to share it. "See, Heather?" Harry whispered. "I told you shouldn't have felt bad about Mrs. Figg. This is the best day of our lives!"

"Don't jinx it," Heather muttered, but she agreed. She'd never had so much fun in any one of her ten years.

It went downhill from there.

After lunch, they went over the reptile house. Heather was by far the most interested in the Boa Constrictor, though she wasn't completely sure why. She normally preferred calmer, sweeter animals, but something about the Boa Constrictor intrigued her. Something about its eyes. They just seemed... familiar.

Unfortunately, this was also Dudley and Piers' favourite, though being them, it was because of its impressive size. "Make it move!" Dudley whined, nose pressed against the glass.

"Don't startle it," Heather lectured.

"Shut up, Potter," Dudley said.

"It's a stupid idea," Heather said. "That thing could swallow you whole."

"Daaadddd!" Dudley whined.

"Quiet, girl," Uncle Vernon snapped. Dudley grinned at Heather triumphantly.

Heather sighed, turning away. Harry squeezed her hand affectionately.

Uncle Vernon rapped smartly on the glass. Sparking an odd sense of pride in Heather, the snake ignored him. "Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon knocked on the glass a second time, but again, the snake pretended it couldn't hear him. Perhaps he really couldn't, but Heather had an odd feeling he could.

"This is boring," Dudley complained. He and Piers moved over to look at the other snakes.

The twins moved back to directly in front of the snake. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's died of boredom itself," Harry muttered.

Heather nodded. "Poor thing," she said. She turned to the animal. "Hey. don't mind him, he doesn't understand. It can't be easy. Just lying there. Watching people stare at you."

Suddenly, the snake sat up. The twins exchanged a dumbfounded look, turning back to the snake. There was an odd, almost human spark in the snake's eyes. It turned its head slowly to face the twins. It was a small, blink-and-you-miss-it sort of thing, but-

"Did that just wink?" Harry gasped.

Heather nodded slowly. "I believe it did."

They looked around. No-one seemed to be watching. Harry looked at his sister questioningly, silently asking her something. She nodded.

They winked back.

Sychronized movements were something they had been working on since they were seven. It had actually been Heather's idea, and Harry knew it to this day as 'the best idea she'd ever had'. It really creeped the Dursleys out, meaning that doing so was a one-way ticket to a week in the cupboard, but it was worth it. It meant they could feel like they had one mind instead of two. Standing together was important given their circumstances, and this made them feel closer than anything else.

The snake looked pointedly at the Dursleys before raising its eyes to the ceiling in a way that reminded Heather of rolling your eyes. It quite clearly meant 'I get that all the time'. "I know," Harry muttered. "It must be really annoying."

"We're in a kind of similar situation," Heather explained. "They do that kind of thing to us too."

The snake jerked its head in a nodding motion. It seemed to be saying 'I could tell'. "Of course," Harry said. "You seem pretty smart."

"Smarter than them, at least," Heather smiled, jerking her head at the others.

The snake's mouth curved upwards in a ghost of a smile. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked. Heather elbowed him. "What?"

"That's rude," she hissed.

The snake shook its head in a way that sort of said 'I don't mind'. It jerked its tail at the sign at the edge of the enclosure.

"Brazil," Heather read. "That sounds really cool."

"Was it nice there?" Harry asked.

The snake jerked its tail at the sign again, encouraging the twins to read on. "This specimen was bred in the zoo," Heather read. Of course. That made sense. It was why she'd liked the snake so much, and why she saw that spark in its eyes.

"Oh, I see - so you've never been to Brazil?" Harry asked.

The snake shook its head again.

"That's us as well," Heather said softly. "We've never met our parents either."

Just then, a deafening yell was heard throughout the reptile house. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Heather's heart sunk. Dudley waddled after his friend as fast as his little legs could take him, which, admittedly, wasn't fast, but he still got there. "Out of the way, you two," he said, shoving the twins aside.

They sprawled on the floor, glaring up at their cousin. Dudley pressed his face back on the glass, eyes greedy. Heather was mixed with feelings of hatred at Dudley and empathy for the boa constrictor. What Dudley was doing to him couldn't feel much better than being flung onto the concrete.

What happened next completely flipped their views on this matter. Dudley and Piers leaped back with howls of horror, as the snake...

"Is it just me, or did their used to be glass on that cage?" Heather asked, her voice uncharisteristically high.

"No, it's not just you," Harry said shakily.

The snake slithered out of its cage, snapping playfully at the heels of Dudley and Piers. It turned to the twins, the smile-ish expression back. Of course, that wasn't the weirdest thing. A small, hissing voice sounded in both their heads - 'Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigoes.'

"Did you hear that?" Heather squeaked, her voice even higher.

"I think so," Harry said, shocked.

The zoo keeper made Aunt Petunia a cup of tea, apologizing frantically. He didn't seem to have any idea what happened. Heather felt sorry for him - he was almost certainly going to get blamed for this, even though she seriously doubted it was his fault.

They stumbled back to the car, Dudley and Piers babbling on about how the snake had nearly killed them. Of course, it hadn't actually - all it cared about was going to Brazil - but try telling them that. By the time they got on the road, Heather was getting quite sick of it. But she soon wished they'd continued, because what Piers said when he'd calmed down was a million times worse. "Harry and Heather were talking to it, weren't you, guys?"

As soon as Piers left the house, Uncle Vernon rounded on the twins. He didn't look very good - his normally red face now resembled an ashy grey and his eyes were popping so much it looked like they were about to jump out of their sockets. "Go - cupboard - stay - no meals," he managed, collapsing in the living room armchair.

"Yes sir," Heather said hastily, going with Harry to their cupboard.

...

"What do you think happened?" Heather asked, safely in the solitude of their cupboard.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But I know it's not normal."

"Well, that one's easy," Heather said. There was a pause. "Do you think it might have been our fault?"

"How could it have been?" Harry asked. "We don't even know how it happened."

"Yeah, but we were talking to the snake just before the glass vanished. Speaking of which, what d'you think happened there? Snakes don't talk."

"Maybe it was a hullicination?" Harry asked.

"Both of us?" Heather looked doubtful. "That's more than unlikely."

"Weirder things have happened," Harry said. "Besides, what else might it have been?"

"I don't know," Heather admitted.