The Twins who Lived
Boy and Girl.
Little freaks.
Devil Children.
The twins did not know their names; they had always been called ‘Boy and Girl’. That had been their name for so long. They didn’t have much but between the two of them, it was never lonely. They made the cupboard that they lived in a home, with broken toys and a tattered blanket. They learned how to sew so they could share clothes more easily. They stuck to their routine every single day because it was the only way to survive. They learned the rules because it was vital to their survival.
Rule #1: Everyone had a job.
They knew that each of them had a job. Girl was to cook and clean everything, while the Boy was to do any repairs needed to the house. He was to any yard work. This was their job. Their cousin's job was to sit in front of the telly every day. Their aunt would sit and knit as she stared out the window, watching and judging with those narrowed beady eyes. Their uncle’s job was to eat and work.
Rule #2: They were not good.
Only good little children received toys on their birthdays and for Christmas, which is why they always got nothing. They knew that only normal children received love, and that was why they were met with kicks and screams.
Damn, devil children.
Little imps.
Rule #3: Do not ever forget your place.
Big green eyes looked at the world with jaded lenses. Girl knew what her place was in the world, that lesson had been taught by her uncle. She still remembers the big room and the screams that left that room would haunt Boy for the rest of their miserable lives.
They couldn’t have been older than 8, Boy remembers, he’s very good at numbers. He’s good at numbers, he likes them a lot; he remembers this day because while his girl was screaming bloody murder; until all she could do was gag for air, he counted. He counted every single cobweb in their cupboard. Six.
He counted every single dingy floorboard his dirty little fingers could touch. Fifty. He counted the stairs that made their little home. Six. He counted every minute he was separated from his girl. Thirty. That’s 1,800 seconds; less than an hour. It felt like forever until they threw her back into the cupboard. Her chest rattled against the dirty floor as she sobbed, there was blood running down her legs. He remembers counting for her until her cries quieted down into little hiccups. He remembers feeling her little hands twisting and grabbing his shirt as she held onto him, too afraid to let go and face the monsters outside of their door.
Rule #4: There was no salvation for the wicked.
Girl remembers the day her uncle and cousin taught Boy his place in the world. She remembers the day they dragged her boy out of the cupboard. She remembers the pure shot of unfiltered panic that hit her body. She screamed and cried to be let out as her boy begged for help. She raged behind that locked door that had her boy on the other side. Her boy was dying, please God save them. Don’t her boy die while she’s locked behind the door. She clawed and wailed until her fingers bled. Every time she screamed and begged them to stop, they would hit him harder.
“Please, I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Please, someone. Someone HELP. Oh my God, please. Please I don’t want to die. God, please. Someone help. I’ll be good I promise.”
She wasn’t good at counting like her boy. She couldn’t remember the numbers after seven and her mind would lose focus and make her start counting all over again. She was good at talking, so she whispered. She told herself all the things she wanted to grow up to be if they made it that long. She wanted to be a librarian, and her boy was so smart he’d probably work at the bank, he liked numbers. She didn't like numbers but she liked to talk. She kept talking until she drowned out the sound of her boy dying.
She talked until they tossed him back in, and she talked until he closed his eyes. She kept talking until he woke up again because she was afraid if she stopped talking, his heart would stop.
Rule #5: Do not break the routine
Every day was the same. They woke up, their aunt unlocked the cupboard and they scampered out like rats. Girl started cooking breakfast for everyone but them. Boy went out to the mailbox and brought in the mail. Girl finished cooking, and Boy came inside to set the table, Girl washed the dishes and Boy dried the plates. They walked back to the cupboard and went inside as their family came and ate food.
They tidied as quietly as possible, in the limited space and they listened to the sounds of their family eating. Boy would take out their clothes and help Girl sew them if they needed to be mended. Girl would pass Boy broken toys that their cousin Dudley would throw away and watch him create little trinkets.
They’d be let back out as the family left for the day like they were pets. Girl would go to the kitchen and see what they could salvage to eat. Boy would start cleaning upstairs and Girl would clean the kitchen. Boy would sweep and Girl would be hot behind him with the mop. Boy would do laundry and Girl would fold. Girl cooked and Boy would fix anything that was broken. Girl would set the table and Boy would water the plants. Boy would grab the mail and leave it on the table just as their family was coming back in.
They’d go back into the cupboard and teach themselves from the books they had. Girl had to pay for those books, for the privilege to own them. Nothing came to them for free. They’d be let back out as their family started their nightly routine. They would scoure the kitchen like little rats hoping to find a crumb. Girl would prepare everyone’s lunch for the next day and Boy would clean. The days would repeat and repeat.
This was their routine and it never changed. The Dursleys did not like change. Everything was to always stay the same. Until that damn letter came. Everything changed after that.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive were proud to say that they were completely normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere.
The Durselys had everything they ever wanted but they had a secret; buried so deep inside you would never find traces of it, it was their greatest shame. The Durselys had the Potters; Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Durselys's younger sister but they hadn’t been in contact for many many years. As far as Petunia Dursley was concerned she was the only child of the Evans family. Lily Potter and her good-for-nothing husband were the most unDurselys people you could think of. They were unnatural, potterish if you will. Petunia was aware that her not sister had children but she stayed far away from them too. They didn’t need the Potters rubbing off on their son.
It was a regular Tuesday when it happened; dull grey and dreary. The Durselys went about their normal routine, they loved their routine. Vernon Dursely hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work , dull just like him. Mrs. Durselys gossiped away as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed the large tawny owl. Perhaps if they had their normal lives would have stayed normal.
That regular Tuesday didn’t stay regular for long. When Vernon was at work he saw and heard the most peculiar things. Thousands of owls were flooding the sky, reports of shooting stars were being shared on the news and the worst was the whispering of the Potters.
He had been standing at the corner of Holly Avenue waiting to cross the street to York Street; he liked to spend his lunch break on the coffee street there, they served the best steak sandwiches with the crispiest onions a secret from his wife. He had been standing there with the most peculiar group of people, they had been wearing all black, from the robes to the top hat. “The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard—”
“—yes, their son Harry and their daughter—”
Fear flooded Vernon and he stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t even exist before swiftly turning the other way and going back to work. His perfect routine was disrupted. He ate from the vending machine and counted the hours until 5 pm when he could go home to tell his wife.
When he got home, his wife prepared tea for him as usual. He cleared his throat nervously while she stirred sugar in her mug. “Er—Petuina, dear— you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?” He felt hot. As he expected, her face became a storm of emotions. He was ruining their perfect routine.
“No,” She said sharply, stirring the sugar more aggressively. “Why?” her eyebrows were furrowed together as she stared at her tea.
“A lot of strange things happening day” he confessed. “ I heard whispering about the Potters but maybe it was someone else.. What did you say your nephew’s name was?”
“ I don’t know” She confessed softly, it sent a pang of hurt that she buried deep down with the rest of her sister's memories “ I know she had twins” She offered quietly.
Vernon let the conversation die out. He wondered if his wife missed her sister but he was happy to ignore her for his wife. The Dursleys proceeded with their nightly routine.
When the last Dursley closed their eyes and drifted to sleep, a grey cat crept from out of the bushes. A man appeared out of the corner and the cat’s head swirled towards him, its eyes narrowing and its tails twitched. Privet Drive had never seen a man like him; he was tall, thin, and very old judging by the silver of his hair and beard. His hair was long enough to tuck into the belt of his robes; his robes were long and blue and he paired with a purple cloak that had silver stars on it. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles. His name was Albus Dumbledore.
He waved a long white stick and the power on the street went out. He walked certainly to house number four where that cat was sitting waiting for him. “Hello, Professor McGonagall fancy seeing you here” he said to the tabby cat. The cat transformed into a serve-looking woman was was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the marking the cat had around its eyes.
“Albus, where are the children?” She questioned sternly, her tone allowed no time for pleasantries.
“My dear, there will be time for all of that” He tried to placate her.
“When Albus?” She said harshly. “These children's lives are at stake and you seem to think muggles are the best choice for them. You think Lily’s twins will be safe here?” Her voice was thick with grief.
“The wizarding world will never give them peace, they will never be allowed to be children there. At least here they will maintain their innocence” He said tiredly, his age slipping through.
She scoffed, the twins had lost their innocence the moment Voldemort killed their parents and they survived the killing curse. Before she could form a response a low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them.
“That should be Hagrid with them now,” Albus said looking off into the distance.
“Are you insane? You trust Hagrid with them?” She shrieked with wide eyes. Minerva McGonagall barely paid attention to the response she was giving or what Hagrid was saying when he mounted off the motorcycle; a motorcycle of all things, Great Circe!
All she could focus on was the two bundles they were leaving on the doorstep for the muggles; a girl and a boy. Two tufts of red and black hair peeked through the little hats they were wearing. Their hats looked to be crotched and had their names sewn in: Harrdian and Jasmine. The only blemish the babies had on their faces was the lightning bolt that started from the left of Harrdian’s temple and stopped at the start of his nose. It seemed to continue with his sister’s face staring from the bridge of her nose down to the bottom of her right cheek.
They all retreated but Minerva stayed back a second. She bent down and kissed both of them on their heads and whispered an old strength spell from her family's grimoire. She had no telling what they would face in the muggle world, but she knew in her heart that they would need that strength. She felt tears well in her eyes and she took in the smell of them one last time before she got herself together and knocked on the door. She waited in the shadows as the door opened before she disappeared.
She had no way of telling when she apparated away that Vernon Dursley would see the twins sleeping on the porch and would shut the door again in their faces. Leaving the babies out in the cold and returning to his warm bed praying it was nothing more than a dream.