Twinzel

The Twins

My name is Mary Potter. Younger twin sister to Harry Potter. I am the Girl Who Lived. I was a tiny version of our deceased mother. Thick, waist long red curls draped from my head, my sharp, green eyes always filled with wonder and curiousity. I had a soft, almost porcelain looking skin and a melodic voice. I have lived for Ten years, Seven months, Four days, Nine hours and Thirty Two minutes. And in all that time, I've never said a single word to anyone but my Twin Brother. I am a very bright, very cunning young girl. My IQ levels are through the roof. But I hate attention, and I much preffer to be the invisible one. Harry and I live with our strict aunt and uncle. Aunt Petunia was a very interesting being. She looked like a giraffe, with her long neck, and a scared swine, with her face. Her voice always seemed to be a few octaves higher then necessary, and she used this screeching of hers to force chores on me and my Brother. Uncle Vernon however, only greatly resembled a swine. He was a fat man with a mustache, a horrible mood, and sweat coming from every pore. Right about now, Harry and I heard stomping above our heads, cobwebs and dust falling on our faces and heads. I groan quietly, a scowl on my face. I forgot to tell you that the giant pig is not our pet, but our Cousin, Dudley. And that our 'room' was a broom closet under the stairs. Dudley found great amusement in waking us up by jumping on a certain staircase before coming downstairs completely. I sighed softly and rested my hand on my sleeping brother's shoulder, gently shaking him until he woke. Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, nudging his glasses on before looking at me. "Good morning, Twinzel. Ready for today?" His drowsy voice questioned me. You see, that is why he is such a great brother. I have an Eidelic Memory, which means I can remember every, scent, feeling, touch, smell or sight I ever saw. Including our parents actual death. I sometimes had anxiety attacks because of this. Every morning, Harry would make sure I was good to go, or else he forced me to stay while he did all the chores on his own. "I'm ready." I murmur softly. A dreamy smile formed on his lips before he opened the cupboard, clambering out. 

My voice was special. It seemed to give people an almost hypnotic happiness. So I never used it but with Harry, who after all these years, still hadn't gotten used to it. Harry and I were special too. We could make weird things happen by being angry or upset. I stumbled out of the cupboard as well, taking a moment to regain my balance. Together, we then walked to the dining room with the open kitchen. "There you are!" Aunt Petunia's ugly screech came as she saw us move over. She sprang up from her seat and shoved us into the kitchen. "Breakfast, you little Freaks. Hurry, hurry!" She added, before sitting next to her pig... Son, again. I rolled my eyes at Harry, who was struggling to contain his laughter. I popped bacon and an egg in the frying pan, the sizzling noises of cooking filling the kitchen as we made the Dursley Family's breakfast. I plated their omelets and balanced the three plates on my arms as I hurried to the table, leaving Harry in the kitchen to do the dishes. While eating, Dudley had slipped in one of his famous, raging temper tantrums. He had over thirty gifts for his birthday, but it were two less than last year. So he flipped. I had safely retreated back in the kitchen, watching with big eyes. "Over thirty gifts and he's complaining? All we got were socks. Every. Single. Year." Harry muttered to me in disgust. I nodded viciously, absolutely agreeing with him. Somewhere inbetween their argument with their son, Uncle Vernon ordered us to get the mail. Harry and I shared a look before we went to the door and took the mail. 

As we strode back to the diningroom, I suddenly poked Harry's ribs and pointed at the letter. "The Potter Twins. 4. Privet drive. Cupboard under the stairs. We got a letter!" Harry read in wonder, shoving the other mail on the table. The Dursley's halted their argument to see the little Twins hunched over a letter, and about to open it. Dudley snatched it from Harry's hands and laughed. "The Freaks got a Letter! The freaks got a letter!" He repeated in a sing-songy voice, flailing the paper around. "Give it back!" Harry demanded as we both jumped around, trying to reach it. Uncle Vernon took the paper from his son and scrunched his nose at it. Both Harry and I froze, our big eyes pleading our Uncle to hand us our letter. "Filth doesn't get any mail." Was his only answer, his hands ripping the letter to shreds. My jaw dropped, involuntary tears gathering in my eyes. "That was ours!" Harry shot back, his own sad look eyeing the pieces of paper. Who cares what exactly it was? But it was ours, for a change. And now it was gone. Harry took my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as I just stood there, anger building up inside of me. I can't remember ever doing something bad to them, and with my memory, I know I'm right. So why would they be so God-awful to us? "Piss off!" Uncle Vernon snapped at us, our que to get back to the cupboard. We hurried into it, Harry wrapping me in his arms. "Maybe another letter will come.." He started hopefull as Aunt Petunia locked the cupboard behind us. "Maybe.." I whispered half-heartedly as I burried my face in his chest. I hope so.