Chapter 01

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Mrs. Potter woke up that day with an unsettling feeling of suspicion in her stomach. The house was quiet; perhaps too quiet. With other families, this was probably considered normal. But at the Potter household, quietness was never a good sign.

So with that worrying thought, Mrs. Potter turned her head as she was laying on the bed to glance back at her husband, who was sound asleep.

"Fleamont," she called him out in a whisper, gently shaking him by the arm. "Fleamont, wake up."

But Mr. Potter only groaned and drew the covers over his head to block his eyes from the bright morning sun, which was beaming through the window's curtains.

"Fleamont, don't you think the house is too quiet?" Mrs. Potter whispered, trying to get his attention.

"It's not quiet while you're talking," Mr. Potter's witty voice came from under the blankets.

Mrs. Potter glared at his direction before shaking her head and getting out of bed. She then wore her silk dressing gown and ran a hand through her long blonde hair to try and make in neater, before walking out of their bedroom.

On her way down the corridor upstairs, Mrs. Potter peeked through her children's separate rooms, seeing that they both had the blankets fully over their heads and were still sleeping in their beds.

So she shrugged to herself, deciding to just walk downstairs to pour herself a cup of coffee. But she had barely reached the second stair when she realized something.

It was true that their son usually slept till noon and had to be woken up sometimes by force, but that wasn't the case for their daughter; she was always the first to wake up in the household.

So with her eyes narrowed in suspicion, Mrs. Potter started to tiptoe back toward her daughter's room and slowly opened her door wide. The figure on the bed and under the covers was too still. Something wasn't right.

Mrs. Potter walked toward the bed and ever so gently lowered the blankets. But her face fell when she realized that no one was under the blankets, though there were many pillows set underneath it to make it look like a person.

Mrs. Potter sighed to herself, shaking her head. "Oh, for Merlin's sake... What are you two little devils up to again?"


As the morning wore on a much warmer color and the rays of sunshine splattered across the Potter Manor, unknown to their parents, James and Jenna Potter sat at the back of their enormous yard, under the tall willow tree which had been planted there years and years ago.

James had a little blade it his hand as he was sitting next to the tree trunk, trying to carve something upon it as he focused hard, pushing his lopsided glasses up his nose with a finger.

"Let me do it! You'll end up ruining it!" Jenna groaned as she watched her twin brother examining the tree with the blade in his hand.

"No, you can't do it." James shook his head and then turned to face his sister, his grin widening. "Let the men handle the blade."

James then went back to observing the tree trunk, trying to decide where would be the best spot to carve their names. But it went unnoticed by him that at his words, Jenna eyebrows suddenly furrowed together and then slowly her hair started going red from anger.

Jenna was a Metamorphmagus, which meant that she had the ability to change her appearance at will. Although most Metamorphmagi could only change their hair colors at the age of eleven, but Jenna was more advanced than what she was aware of.

But just then, her hair turned back to brown and a grin was formed on her lips as an idea made its way through her head. So with that, Jenna closed her eyes and focused, and moments later, she managed to turn her hand into a lobster claw.

Without warning, she suddenly pounced, shoving her claw-hand in front of her brother and near his face. James let out a rather girlish shriek in horror and hurtled over the grass and fell to his back, dropping the blade from his hand.

With a satisfied smirk dangling at the edge of her lips, Jenna briskly took the blade off the ground and in a quick motion sat by the tree trunk where James was and started to carve their initials.

"Hey! You could've seriously hurt me!" James retorted loudly, but Jenna only kept grinning.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, J.P." She laughed. "Besides, if you kept staring at the tree any longer it would've dried out."

"Haha, very funny." James said blankly, but then he moved forward to watch her sister do the blade work.

"All done!" said Jenna cheerfully after a minute or so, finally pulling away to watch her masterpiece with satisfaction.

There, right on the tree trunk, the word 'J.P' was carved.

"What are you two doing?" James and Jenna turned abruptly at the voice, seeing their mother standing a few feet away from them with her arms folded.

Jenna quickly pocketed the little blade as she and James said in sync, "Nothing."

Mrs. Potter shook her head at them, but said nothing on the matter. "C'mon, you two. Let's get back inside. I asked Mickey to set the breakfast table."


"I'm starving!"

The twins said at the same time as they got to their feet and with that, they raced each other back toward their house. As promised, their young house elf, Mickey, had already made them pancakes and bacons for breakfast, with warm toast and fresh pumpkin juice.

Their mother joined them soon after she had gone upstairs to wear better clothes. But they were in the middle of eating when their father walked into the kitchen, still in his pajamas, his jet-black hair messy, and his brown eyes only half-open.

"Morning, Dad!" James and Jenna said loudly, knowing well that their father wasn't a morning person and loud noises could easily annoy him at this hour.

"Shh... too much noise... too early..." Mr. Potter mumbled as he went over to pour himself his morning tea in a cup.

When he returned back to the breakfast table and took his usual seat, James and Jenna watched him carefully from the corner of their eyes in silence, their hearts beating in excitement.

But then, just as Mr. Potter raised the cup of tea toward his mouth to take a sip, he let out a loud shriek when the cup suddenly bit his nose.

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