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Impeccable. If there was a single word to describe me, it was impeccable, not because I think myself perfect, but because in the Dursley household, perfection is not just an expectation but a requirement. Every child has an assigned skill set, a niche we're supposed to excel at. For me, it's the arts; for my twin brother Harry, it's academics; and for Dudley, my cousin, it's athletics.
It all started when Harry and I turned three years old and became burdened by my Aunt's unrealistic expectations. Now that we're older, trophies and tiaras from various dance pageants and athletic tournaments littered the shelves of my Uncle's mansion, medals and ribbons from the unfathomable amount of academic competitions Harry partakes in covered the walls, and an obnoxiously packed event calendar hung in the kitchen. All three of us were celebrities in our own right. Dudley and I were training for the Olympics while Harry was known all over the UK for his academic prowess, but we'd give it all up on a silver platter for just an ounce of normalcy.
"An A MINUS!" My Aunt's piercing voice sounded through the house, "you little ingrate!" I sighed and looked up from my sheet music in favor of talking to Dudley. "Harry's in trouble again," I whispered. Last weekend, Harry placed second at the national spelling championship, and Uncle Vernon was furious. This new infraction would certainly not be taken lightly. Sure enough, a door slammed shut. "And you better win tomorrow's robotics competition!" Aunt Petunia shouted before I heard the sound of heels on a hardwood floor. "Harry's done for if he doesn't win," Dudley agreed. "So are you if you don't win that fencing tournament tonight," I reminded him. "I know," he moaned, "you think if I play sick, they'll let me get out of it?" He mused. I looked at him incredulously before we both burst into giggles. I once had strep throat and was still forced to compete in a low-level dance competition. I sighed before grudgingly turning back to my piano sheet music. The London Music Festival was coming up, and, as usual, I'd be performing in it. My performance would have to be perfect if I was going to meet Aunt Petunia's expectations.
***
"You're free to go, I'll see you on Sunday," Maestro Rossi told me after I played my last note. I turned towards my Aunt who had decided to oversee today's violin lesson. "You're dismissed," she told me. "Yes ma'am," I said before marching to the door, "and thank you Maestro Rossi." With that I marched to the stairs before sprinting to Harry's room to check on him. We all had to have our own space if we were going to succeed at our assigned talents.
In my room, I had a miniature dance studio, a huge bin for my dance shoes, and I was even allowed to paint on my walls like Rapunzel. Harry's room, on the other hand, was filled with books. He had a chalkboard wall where he could work out equations, several calculators, and a chemistry set. Dudley had the most normal room, he was allowed to have normal posters of athletes unlike Harry and I who had posters of people like Leonardo da Vinci and Anna Pavlova. Aunt and Uncle didn't allow us to stray from our assigned skills, no matter how much we asked. We all had our expectations and we were required to live up to them.
I crept into his room, Harry was taking notes from the geometry textbook that Aunt Petunia bought him for Christmas. "You know you're not supposed to bother me," he said, not looking up from his notes. He sighed and erased them furiously. "God I'm a bloody idiot!" He grumbled slamming his pencil on the desk. "Harry, it's almost time to leave," I informed him, "Dudley's fencing tournament is in two hours." He shook his head started writing again. "I'm studying for the Surrey Annual Maths Tournament, it's next Tuesday and I need to win this time," he said. "Yes, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon will be angry if you're not dressed on time, it's rude to be late," I reminded him. "Are you dressed?" He asked. I shook my head, "I wanted to see you first, Aunt Petunia really tore into you this morning," I answered. He frowned, finally looking up from his math.
"I got an A minus in my Latin class," he told me. "That's not one of your school classes, it won't be on your record," I offered. He shot me a look, "It doesn't matter, it's not a perfect score; ergo, I failed," he explained. "You'll make it up with your Maths tournament," I said trying to reassure him. "It doesn't matter Bri," he sighed, "I'm only worth as much as my last test; if I can't achieve academic excellence, I'm worthless." I slid his chin up. "You're not worthless, not to Dudley and I," I said sternly, "my brother is worth a lot more than some silly test score." He scoffed, "And my sister is worth more than a stupid tiara," he countered. "You're right, I'm also an artist," I agreed. "More than that, you're amazing, and funny, and kind," he said. "That's bad grammar," I pointed out. "Don't tell Uncle Vernon," he joked. "Go get dressed," I scoffed as I left his room.
***
"Briar May!" I smirked as I puffed out my dress. "Briar May!" Afrina, my maid shouted. We had several live in help at our mansion. Uncle Vernon sees it as a sign of status to have our help living on our property. We currently have about forty occupants living in our servants quarters. Some of them were allowed to bring their children under the condition that they would help around the house, but most were without any family and almost all of them were immigrants. Because we have so many servants, we don't do chores. This allows us to devote more time to our assigned crafts.
"I'm in here, Affie," I said. "Madame Dursley has told me to style your hair for the occasion," she explained. Most fencing tournaments aren't a huge deal, but this was the London Annual Fencing Invitational Tournament meaning we had to dress to a higher standard. All of the talented fencers in London would be there and my uncle had invited a few of his friends so Dudley could impress them. A lot was riding on today, which is why I was wearing the floral dress that my aunt picked out with a beige cardigan, Harry, as usual, would be wearing a dress shirt with slacks and a knitted vest, while Aunt and Uncle would dress in their business casual clothes. Everything has been planned to the very last letter. Including my newly straightened hair.
"Do I look alright?" I asked Affie. The Malaysian woman scoffed, "As if I would let you out of this room looking anything less than perfect." She spun my chair towards the mirror. "Thank you, Affie," I grinned. "You're not supposed to acknowledge the help, nor should you greet them with familiarity," Dudley teased as he invited himself into my room, "they're below us." He then lost his composure and started cackling. "How was my Mum impression?" He asked. "Excellent," I said knowingly. "You wound me, Briar," he mock moaned, "what do you think, Affie?" Affie just smiled, "I don't think I'm at liberty to speak on that matter, sir," she said.
"Children!" Uncle Vernon shouted. Dudley and I immediately straightened ourselves out and stepped out of my room. Harry stood in front of me and we marched down the stairs single file. If we were called, we're meant to march to our destinations so long as we're in the house. Aunt Petunia says this is meant to promote order and structure within the household, but I'm almost certain she just came up with it after watching The Sound of Music. "Is everyone ready to go?" Aunt Petunia asked once we arranged ourselves in front of them. "Yes Ma'am," we answered. "I expect a win out of you, boy, don't disappoint us like your cousin," She warned Dudley. Harry bowed his head at the memory of his A minus. An A minus would be acceptable for Dudley and I, but not for Harry. Harry has to have perfect grades, I have to be the perfect artist in every sense of the word, and Dudley has to be the perfect athlete because in the Dursley household perfection is not just an expectation, but a requirement.
