The Potters' Manor was dead asleep and no sound could be heard as dusk had fallen upon its old walls. But per usual, that silence wasn't going to last much longer.

     In fact, the peace had never seemed to reign the halls of the Potters' household ever again after the birth of James and Jenna Potter; the twins made by the devil himself – as their neighbors called them.

     If it was too quiet for longer than usual, Mia and Fleamont Potter would assume that it was probably the silence before the storm, and made sure to prepare themselves for their kids' next mischief.

And that day, the first of September, was no exception.

With mischievous grins playing on their lips, James and Jenna gave each other one last approving nod, and the silence was broken for good when they threw a set of Dungbombs in their parents' bedroom.

The moment the first one burst, the twins ran downstairs laughing, hearing their mother's shrieks after them.

"FOR THE LAST TIME!" She bellowed, as James and Jenna made an escape for outside the house. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOR IN MY HOUSE!"

Once outside and in the garden, the twins looked up towards the windows of their parents' bedroom, watching the green gas filling it up.

"Nice one, J.P," they said together, fist-bumping with satisfied grins on their faces.

The two stayed in the garden, busying themselves with their brooms as they shot into the air, though not too high to be seen by their neighbors, even though it felt like their houses were a mile away.

"Oi! I think the coast is clear!" Jenna called out to James, and so after receiving a thumbs-up, they both landed on the ground and left their brooms laying there, making their way back inside.

Mickey – their house-elf – had already set the breakfast table. An angry Mrs. Potter was sitting behind the table with folded arms as she watched the twins come forward innocently, acting like nothing had happened.

"Hi, Mum," said Jenna sweetly, placing a small kiss on her mother's cheek before sitting down.

"May I just say," James started, smiling handsomely, "you look extremely beautiful today, mother."

"Are you mocking me, James?" She asked with a raised brow, pointing at her messed up blonde hair and dirty clothes, which were due to the unexpected way she was woken up.

"I would never!" James gasped dramatically.

With the sound of footsteps, their heads turned around, spotting their father entering the kitchen still in his pajamas, his jet-black hair all over the place as always; although a few strands of gray hair had appeared beneath that mess.

Yawning, he sat down at the table, saying brightly, "Good morning, Potters."

"Morning, dad," said the twins together, trying to hold back their sniggers as they watched the remainder of their Dungbomb's green gas raising from their father's head.

But Mrs. Potter did not share the same amount of good attitude as her husband. "Aren't you going to say something to them, Fleamont?"

"Oh, Mia. I would think that you are used to all this after years of dealing with these two," said Mr. Potter, putting some jam on his toast. "But you are surprised every time."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't applaud them for this unique way of waking us up!"

"No need to apologize, mum," said Jenna.

"Yeah, there's enough time for the applause," said James. "We have four hours until we have to get on the train."

Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes, trying hard to suppress her smile. Sighing in defeat at last, she took a toast herself. "Why did you wake up so early, anyway?" She asked.

"We couldn't sleep," the twins said in sync, obviously excited for their first time of going to Hogwarts.

"Jenna, your hair's doing that freaky thing again," said James, pointing at her sister's orange hair.

"James, what did I tell you about using the word 'freaky'?" said Mrs. Potter in a warning tone as Jenna shook her head to try and turn her hair back to her normal brown state.

Jenna was born a Metamorphmagus; which meant that she had the ability to change her appearance. Although she hadn't learnt how to do it on will, and usually it was only her hair that would change color according to her emotions.

"Mickey, would you please get the kids' trunks downstairs?" Mrs. Potter asked the young house-elf kindly, waving her wand to clear up the breakfast table herself.

"Yes, my Lady!" said Mickey, bowing so low that his nose almost touched the ground before disappearing from the kitchen.

"Did you pack everything last night like I asked you? I don't want Mickey doing all the work! You have to learn to do your own stuff." Mrs. Potter pointed a finger at the twins, but they just gave each other a knowing look before standing up from behind the table.

"Delicious breakfast," said Jenna.

"Oh, yeah! The best!" said James, and so the two ran out of the kitchen with a start and back to the garden.

"I don't know what we're going to do without them, Fleamont." Mrs. Potter sighed, turning towards her husband who was still eating. "But I do hope they would stop causing so much trouble in Hogwarts."

"Oh, you don't have to worry, Mia, dear." Fleamont shook his hand reassuringly. "They're two little angels, fallen straight from heaven."

"That amount of sarcasm about your own children is not appreciated."

***

"We'll miss you, Mickey." Jenna hugged the elf after watching his large blue eyes get filled with tears.

"Oh, what is poor Mickey going to do without his two little saints running around the house and causing trouble!" He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his little hand.

"I think you've misunderstood the meaning of saint, Mickey. Because saint and trouble usually don't come in the same sentence." said James teasingly, trying to cheer the house-elf up, but it only made him sob harder.

"Oh, how Mickey is going to miss his little master's witty jokes!" He said between sniffs.

"I'll miss you, too." James patted his head. "But we'll come back soon for Christmas break!" Mickey's mood was slightly picked up by that.

After bidding their goodbyes, James and Jenna walked along with their parents for a few minutes until they finally reached the main road.

Mr. Potter took out his wand and gave it a quick wave. "Alright, then. The Knight-bus will be here any moment now."

And sure enough, there it came; a gigantic purple bus pulled up out of nowhere. The man helped with their trunks as James and Jenna raced each other inside, looking around them.

     They had to hold on tight until they finally got to King's Cross station, but they made sure to enjoy the ride and its fast speed.

     When they finally got to the station, it had gotten too hard to control their excitement as they ran around to find platform 9 and 10.

     "I still can't believe we're not allowed to bring our own broomsticks." Jenna muttered.

     "Yeah," James nodded in agreement. "We would've totally made the Gryffindor team."

     "And how are you so sure that you're going to be sorted into Gryffindor house?" Asked Mrs. Potter, half angry that her kids had taken over from her husband's house-prejudice.

     But she quickly came to regret asking because the next moment, James and Jenna pretended to draw imaginary swords out of their robes and pointed them up in the sky, saying together, "Because we belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!"

     Mrs. Potter threw a deadly glare at her husband, knowing all too well that he had rehearsed that line with the twins and was responsible for all of this.

     "But does it really matter if we're sorted into another house, though?" Asked Jenna, less enthusiastically.

     "Of course it doesn't matter. We'll be happy either way," said Mrs. Potter kindly.

     "Of course we'll be happy," said Mr. Potter, smiling reassuringly before adding in a mumble, "as long as you're in Gryffindor."

     "Fleamont!"

     "Oh, alright. It doesn't matter to us." He said with a teasing eye-roll.

     "Even if we're sorted into Slytherin?" James asked with a mischievous grin, trying to provoke his father.

     "Slytherin – ouch – yes, fine, it really doesn't matter." Mr. Potter exclaimed in disgust, but had to change his tone after receiving a smack on his arm from his wife.

     "There! Look!" Jenna suddenly pointed when she spotted the platform, her hair turning orange in excitement again.

     But she quickly tried to focus and turn it back to brown when she saw a few Muggles passing by giving her weird looks.

     "Ready, guys?" said Mr. Potter brightly.

     "As ready as one can be!" James said eagerly, but confused for not hearing her sister's remark on the matter, he turned around to look for her.

     Jenna was frozen on the spot, a few steps behind the rest of the family, her hair a deep shade of gray as she stared at the ground.

     "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Asked Mrs. Potter gently, putting a hand on her daughter's arm.

     "What if – what if everyone thinks I'm a freak?" said Jenna anxiously, pointing at her hair.

     But before her mother could comfort her, James walked forward with his chest out as he said proudly, "Then they'll have to be prepared for their asses to be kicked! I'm the only one who's allowed to call you freak!"

     Jenna giggled, but then said even more strongly, "I can kick their asses myself, I wouldn't need a boy to do it for me!"

     "That's my girl!" Mr. Potter said happily, as if cheering her on for wanting to beat others. "But then what's the matter?"

     "I just – don't want them to think I'm different."

     Her mother smiled kindly at her before saying, "Everyone's different in their own way, once you get to know them. And that's when you'll realize our uniqueness is what makes us special. And there's no need to feel ashamed about it."

     Jenna looked up at her mother with glimmering eyes and smiled, her hair turning a peaceful color of blue, but this time she didn't try to change it.

     "Let's do this thing!" She said, rubbing her hands together in glee.

     "Oh, yeah!" James beamed. "Hogwarts, ready or not, here we come!"