The Mudblood

Chapter 1 : Year 1

"I dare you to go up to that old lady and say, 'You're my bitch, witch'."

My twin brother's blue eyes widened in horror as he looked to the squat old witch standing across the road of Diagon Alley and then back at me. "Are you mental? She'll probably throw me in her oven and eat me for dinner!"

I snorted, shaking my head at his cowardice. "We're not in some 'Hansel and Gretel' situation, Lyle. Witches don't really eat children. You think I would eat you?"

"No, but you're not a creepy old lady," Lyle mumbled as he crossed his arms.

"Oh stop being a baby, Lyle," our older brother, Evan complained as he shoved Lyle's arm.

Evan and Lyle almost looked like they were the same person, Evan being only a little over a year older than us: with their messy blond hair, vibrant blue eyes and round boyish faces, they were often mistaken as twins when in actuality, Lyle and I were the ones who spent nine crowded months together in the womb. Other than the fact of our obviously opposite genders, Lyle and I were clearly unidentical, being that my long, smooth, dirty blonde hair was a few shades darker than his, and my eyes were often more green than blue.

"You're one to talk," Lyle countered, returning Evan's shove with an elbow to the gut. As Evan groaned in pain, I raised my eyebrows at my twin, who then let out an impatient sigh. "Fine, fine," he muttered, giving us both deadly looks. After clearing his throat, Lyle slowly and gingerly approached the pudgy old woman standing near one of the many wizarding shops of Diagon Alley. This particular store was called the Apothecary, a word I hadn't even heard of before being informed that I was a witch about a month earlier. Since then I'd done an extensive amount of research on the wizarding world as to educate myself and my Muggle family on this vast society that I was apparently a part of. 

When Lyle finally stood in front of the witch, she glanced up at him with a dull expression as he shuffled quite awkwardly. Evan and I giggled to ourselves as Lyle took in a deep breath, and recited the words, "You're my bitch, witch."

The old woman's nostrils flared in offense as she began to rummage through her pocket. As soon as I saw the long, slender stick grasped firmly in her hand, I dashed over to Lyle and yanked him by the arm.

"Let's go!" I hissed before the three of us darted down the alley. Yesterday I may not have thought much about that stick of wood, but after having just bought my first ever magic wand, I realized the power those simple objects could elicit.

"I can't believe you just did that!" I mused as we continued to run. Lyle was panting between chortles while Evan's mortified expression would give an outsider the impression that he'd been the one to insult that grumpy old witch. 

The three of us came to an abrupt halt when we bumped into two other, larger men who greatly resembled my brothers. They were standing outside of a broom shop, admiring the broomsticks on display in the window.

"Oh, there you are," my father greeted cheerily, turning to face us with his warming smile. Even in his early forties, his face exuded youth and liveliness, even more so than the dry-faced, blond-haired teenage boy standing to his left. At the age of seventeen, my oldest brother Garren was six years older than Lyle and I, who had just turned eleven last January, yet he often displayed the attitude of a grouchy, elderly man. 

"You're going to kill Lyle when we tell you what he's just done," Evan blurted feverishly.

My father glanced over at Lyle with the sternest look he could muster. "Lyle."

"It wasn't my idea," Lyle griped, unable to contain his persisting laughter. "Lainey told me to do it—"

I cleared my throat to interrupt my twin. "Er—what are you two looking at?" I asked my father and Garren in an attempt to avert the subject from my trouble-making.