𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 2, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂

~ chapter one: the worst birthday ~

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by loud, hooting noises coming from his nephew Harry and Y/N's room.

"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't control those owls, they'll have to go!"

Y/N and Harry shared helpless looks as Harry tried, yet again, to explain.

"They're bored," he said. "They're used to flying around outside. If we could just let them out at night—"

"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. Y/N had to bite her lip to prevent from saying 'yes'. "I know what'll happen if those owls are let out."

He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.

Harry and Y/N tried to argue back but their words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.

"I want more bacon."

"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her son. "We must build you up while we've got the chance.... I don't like the sound of that school food...."

"Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings," said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"

Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.

"Pass the frying pan."

"You've forgotten the—" Harry started irritably, but Y/N shook her head to silence him and reached across him to hand Dudley the frying pan.

Harry felt a surge of anger when he saw Dudley flirtatiously smile and — something he had never done to Harry — said thank you. Of course the 'thank you' bit didn't infuriate Harry — he supposed it did help that Dudley finally managed to learn manners — but it was the smile. He had to grit his teeth in order to restrain himself from attacking Dudley with his bare hands right then and there.

He didn't care if he had a weapon or not.

He was going to strangle Dudley.

'Maybe he's just doing it to seem nice in front of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.'

He watched with relief as Y/N said "You're welcome," gave him a tight-lipped smile — a smile that showed that she didn't mean what she said. He was filled with relief that she didn't give him an actual genuine smile — those smiles were reserved for Harry and their friends alone. Harry would be lying if he said that there wasn't a deep part inside him that wanted her genuine smiles all for himself, but for the time being, sharing her genuine smiles was enough for him.

Ever since the two had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Vernon had been treating them like bombs that might go off at any moment, because Harry Potter and Y/N Black weren't normal kids. As a matter of fact, they were as not normal as it is possible to be.

Harry Potter and Y/N Black were wizards — wizards fresh from their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys were unhappy to have them back for the holidays, it was nothing compared to how Harry and Y/N felt.

Harry missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes (though perhaps not Snape, the Potions master), the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and, especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the Wizarding world (six tall goalposts, four flying balls, and fourteen players on broomsticks).