The days began to blur, and before I knew it, I was eight years old and no longer an only child, my mother had given birth to adorable twin girls with black hair and blue eyes. Sitting at the dining room table, I watched Mum battle with the twins, they had just turned two and were being a textbook case on why two-year olds are known as the terrible twos.

The twins seated and locked into their highchairs were putting Mum through hell. Towering over the girls, Mum wearing her grey stained potions robe, commanded, "Girls, eat your oatmeal."

Sasha, the twin on the right side, responded with an eloquent, "No." Not to be outdone by her sister, Rebecca put her two cents in by sticking her tongue out and spitting.

A smile strained my mother's face, and she promised, "Not only are you going to eat it, but you are going to like it."

Rebecca's blue eyes widened as if she couldn't believe her mother said that. Deciding that Mum needed a wake-up call, she locked eyes with Sasha, and they both grinned and pushed their bowls in opposite directions off the high tables.

Mum's smile froze in shock, and when the bowls hit the ground and cracked, her left eye started twitching. Blond hair erupting madly behind her, she pulled out her wand and angrily threatened, "You little brats, you're going to stay in those chairs until you eat." She waved her wand, and the bowls flew back up to the table. She grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of the twin’s highchairs, determined not to move until the girls ate their breakfast.

By the time I finished eating, the standoff was still going strong, with no end in sight. Deciding to help mum out, I walked over to the twins, giving mum a sly look, I made a grabbing motion towards Rebecca's breakfast and said. "You know, since you don't want this, I guess I want it."

Before I could take it, she grabbed her bowl, "Mine," she said, with an offended look on her face. She grabbed her spoon and began shoveling the oatmeal into her mouth as if afraid I would try again. Turning my head towards Sasha was all it took to convince her she was next, so she too began to eat quickly.

With a bewildered look on her face, Mum glanced at the girls eating and then back to me, then again to the girls. After a moment, her eyes shifted towards me suspiciously and accused me, "This is a conspiracy, and you are in on it."

Snorting with laughter, I replied, "You just need to know how to speak their language."

"I blame you; you never acted like this when you were little. If you had, I would be more prepared." She whined.

Deciding to change the subject before it became my fault the twins were troublesome, I asked, "Where's Dad? The match begins at noon, and we are supposed to meet up with Cedric and Anna before the game."

"I'm here," Dad's voice rang out.

After turning, for the first time since being reborn, I was struck speechless. Dad was trying to win an award that declared that he was the Arrow's biggest fan. His long brown hair was pale blue with streaks of silver through it. His skin on his face was magically turned pale blue as well with two silver arrows on each cheek. Wearing a robe that had pictures of the entire team flying on brooms. He eagerly asked, "You ready for some quidditch?"

With a grin on my face knowing how much this was going to embarrass Anna, I eagerly begged, "Me too."

With a knowing grin, he pulled out his wand, and began twirling and twisting it towards me, saying, "A little of this, and a lot of that, perfect."

Grinning, I turned to Mum and asked, "How do I look?"

She summoned a mirror and pointed it my way. Seeing my reflection, I grinned. My face mirrored my dad, I turned to the twins and asked, "What do you girls think?"

Both of their eyes widen with fear as if realizing that their parents could turn them into different colors. Seeing their wide eyes, Mum began cackling evilly and threatened, "Guess what happens the next time you don't want to eat?"

Turning to Dad, I asked, "Can we go already?" Not about to be left behind, Athena climbed up the back of my clothes until she was perched on my shoulder as if to announce she would be coming as well.

"Hold on, we're waiting on Cedric and Anna to get here," He patiently reminded me.

When Cedric arrived, he took one look at me and doubled over with laughter, "Oh, Anna is going hate you so much,"

Smiling mischievously, I replied, "Don't you mean she'll hate ‘us’."

When Anna arrived, and she saw all of us decked out in blue and silver, she blanched and stammered when she saw our grinning faces, "Don't you dare."

By the time we had all arrived at the stadium, all of us were covered in blue and silver. Glaring resentfully at me, Anna warned, "So help me, the instant I get my wand, you’re dead. Do you hear me, Alexander Fawley?"

Wincing at her full use of my name, I knew I would need to watch my back in a few years. Trying to distract her from her anger, I consoled, "It's not so bad, your Dad is playing. I bet he gets a kick out of seeing you like this."

Before she could respond, the announcer interrupted in a magically enhanced voice, "Here come the Appleby Arrows," our section in the stadium went nuts. Shooting into the sky announcing their arrival were silver arrows that exploded into blue sparks.

In response to the silver arrows erupting into the sky, a loud buzzing came from the sea of black and gold from the other side of the stadium. The announcer continued, "Here come their fated rivals, The Wimbourne Wasps."

Seeing her dad take up his post near the three goals, Anna's personality changed from a well-behaved lady to a demon child, screaming at the top of her lungs, "DESTROY THEM ALL DADDY, MAKE THEM REGRET BEING BORN! MWAHAHAHA!"

Seeing her cackle madly, I shot Cedric a worried look, while remembering her early promise of vengeance.

The game began with the Arrow's chasers grabbing the quaffle and scoring within the first minute. Silver arrows followed our cheers; however, the wasps recovered and began beaming across the field to even the score. The arrow's chasers tried to intercept, but the wasp's beaters were able to break apart their formation by sending the bludgers to intercept them and made their way to the goal passing the quaffle back and forth. But, just as they made the shot, Anna's dad was able to block it. Anna, Cedric, and I cheered as loud as we could.

The match ended abruptly; thirty minutes later, the score was 80 to 10 with arrows in the lead when the wasp's seeker dove towards the ground, with the arrow's seeker right on his trail. Luckily, a stray bludger caught the wasp's seeker on the leg, snapping it, and he crashed towards the ground, and the arrow's seeker caught the snitch. The game came to an end with the announcer declaring the arrow's victory at 230 to 10. Stunned that the match ended so soon, we looked at each other and started celebrating.

While waiting for Anna's father outside the stadium, the four of us were discussing the match when a mocking voice rang out, "Fawley, it's good to see you." My father's hand that was on my shoulder tightened in response.

Turning in the direction of the mocking voice, I saw an older man in his 40s approach our little group in a swagger. He was wearing an immaculate black suit with golden broomstick cuff links that adorned his sleeves. His black hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and on his face, a small goatee hid a weak chin. But his eyes are what marked him as dangerous, they were piercing black, full of intelligence and ruthlessness.

I watched his eyes move from my father, over to my friends, and then come to rest on me. As his eyes met mine, my hair stood up, and Athena's tail wrapped protectively around my throat, and she hissed a warning. An oily smile appeared on his face as he turned his attention to my father and sneered. "So, Henry, how is the old business coming along?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

In a tightly controlled voice, Dad responded, "Everything has been going well as could be expected, Whithorn."

He nodded and replied condescendingly, "I am surprised that you were able to keep it afloat after I left, Old Jack was a great wizard, but a terrible businessman and shopkeeper. It didn't surprise anyone when the warehouse burned down. Nothing but sloppy management."

After hearing him insult my grandfather, my hands clenched in anger, turning white from the lack of blood. Sensing that something was wrong, Cedric and Anna closed in around me as if they would somehow shield me from this man's words.

I saw my father, who I had never seen once act in anger, twitched his hand towards the pocket that kept his wand. Knowing that he had struck a chord within my father, Whithorn smiled.

Wanting to defend my family's honor, I replied scathingly, "I don't think he was a terrible businessman, just a bad judge of character. After all, he wasn't able to see you for the rat you are."

Whithorn's eyes snapped to mine, seemingly looking for some knowledge within them, and after a moment he smiled and replied, "What an accurate choice of words, young man. A bad judge of character is indeed a great way to describe old Jack." He paused dramatically and continued, "Why else would he have been running around with he-who-must-not-be-named?."

Shocked, and not knowing what to say about this bombshell, I turned to my father. Only to see his blue face beginning to turn red in anger.

"HOW DARE YOU!" My dad bellowed, pulling out his wand.

Whithorn remained unmoved, by my father's actions, "Just try it, Fawley," he hissed, “You know who my father is and what he is capable of doing.”

Before anyone could make a move, a good natured voice rang out, "Now, what seems to be the problem here?"

The tension seemed to break as everyone glanced towards the sound, everyone seeing Taylor Lancaster striding confidently in his pale blue quidditch robes. His dark brown hair was slicked with sweat from the match. Taking in the scene, he paused, his friendly brown eyes found his daughter. 

Suddenly remembering where we were, my father put away his wand swallowing his anger.

Delvin Whithorn's expression turned on a dime, as he replied smoothly, "Mr. Lancaster, we're just having a bit of fun, no harm done. Congratulations on a match well done, if you ever need a new Nimbus, don't hesitate to look me up." Turning to leave, he shot us a smirk and swaggered off.

Anna's father watched him leave with a puzzled expression on his face. Turning his face back to his daughter only now did he seem to realize that her skin and hair were dyed blue and silver. His eyes dancing with mirth, he laughed and teased, "Anna, seeing that you are such a big fan. From now on, before every match, I'll turn you blue and silver."

Cedric and I began snorting in laughter; Anna shot me a vicious look while stamping on my foot. "Hey, why are you only attacking me?" I grumbled.

Seeing our antics, our parents began laughing. "Let's head home so we can go give your mom the good news," Taylor interjected.

By the time everyone had gotten home, it was late in the afternoon. Deciding that I needed to organize my thoughts, I didn’t greet anyone and I retreated to my room to think before confronting dad about what Whithorn accused grandfather of doing.

I sat at my desk, pondering everything I knew about my grandfather. Was he a death eater? Why would he have been a supporter of Voldemort? No one else in our family seems to hate muggles.

I mean, the ministry isn't very popular with our family. But I have never seen any indication in our family that would explain him being a Voldemort supporter. However, we are an old pure-blood family; maybe he was a death eater.

Unable to make heads or tails of the situation, I turned to Athena, who was lying contentedly on my bed and asked, "What do you think, was grandfather a death eater?" Ignoring my question like it wasn't worth responding too, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

By the time night had fallen and no closer to an answer than when I started, I decided to confront dad about the truth. Knowing that I would probably find dad in his study, I headed in that direction. Pausing at the door, I got a good look at my father brooding in his favorite chair with a glass of brandy. Walking in, and sitting across from dad I softly questioned, "Is it true?"

With a heavy sigh, he responded, "It's not that simple,"

With a stubborn look on my face, I argued, "Yes it is, either he supported he-who-must-not-be-named, or he didn't."

Meeting my eyes, he replied, "When he-who-must-not-be-named first rose to power, do you think he went around holding a sign that said I'm a dark evil wizard? No, he was persuasive, he knew just the right things to say to bring him support. A lot of people like to forget, but at one time, many wizarding families supported him. He had a lot of supporters until he revealed his true colors."

"So that makes it ok," I replied, feeling disgusted.

"Let me finish," my father angrily interrupted. He continued, "To understand everything, you have to step back in time and look at what allowed he-who-must-not-be-named to rise to power. Most of what happened can be traced back to the signing of the International Statute of Secrecy. It was never popular among a lot of old pureblood wizard families, but after the families of muggle-borns and half-bloods began getting attacked in religious fervor, some wizards put their heads together to think of a solution. The solution they came up with was the Statute of Secrecy, and to enforce the Statute, the Ministry of Magic was formed. Every region created its version of a government, and all of a sudden, many wizards who previously answered to no one but themselves found themselves underneath a government they did not want."

I interjected, "How did the wizards regulate themselves before the ministry was created? And how does the Ministry of Magic being set up lead to some wizards hating muggles and muggle-born wizards?"

He explained, "Each region had a small wizard council, but mostly wizards governed themselves." 

He continued, "As to how the Statute and the Ministry led to some wizards hating muggles and Muggle-borns. There are several reasons, but it mostly has to do with the loss of power. Before the Ministry, old wizard families ruled like kings, they answered to no one. Then one day, a group of half-blood wizards and muggles-borns got together with some pure-bloods and decided that all wizards everywhere would have to obey this new law that was passed and to enforce it they created the Ministry of Magic. Needless to say, not everyone was impressed. However, they couldn't go against the majority, and every time the ministry expanded its power, added a new tax, or made an obscure new law that prevented wizards from doing something that they previously had been allowed to do, it only made things worse. This all led to some wizards to dislike muggles, and some wizards to hate them. After all, had it not been for all the muggle attacks, wizards wouldn't have to go into hiding, and the Ministry of Magic wouldn't have been created."

"But that still doesn't explain the hatred of muggle-born wizards," I interjected, not entirely convinced.

He thoughtfully considered my statement and replied, "Well, muggle-born wizards often bring in new ideas to our society, and that isn't always popular. For instance, the idea of the Hogwarts train was the idea of a muggle-born wizard. Before then, there was no set way for wizards to travel to Hogwarts, most either flew or traveled to Hogsmeade, via the floo network. After the train was made, some of the pure-bloods raised a fuss complaining. They didn't want their children on that muggle contraption. To these wizard families, the muggle-born wizards represent the muggles intrusion into our world."

Seeing that I nodded in understanding, he continued, "Now, when he-who-must-not-be-named first started gathering supporters, he wasn't disparaging the muggle-born wizards. He started off whispering that the ministry shouldn't have so much control over wizards, that it was time for wizards to return to the past. He was a very persuasive speaker and was able to gain a lot of support. Our family has never been huge admirers of the ministry, so my dad began attending some gatherings. Now, what I do know is that at one meeting, he-who-must-not-be-named’s message shifted, no longer was it about wizard freedom, but instead about muggle suppression and casting muggle-born wizards down. According to what I found out, my father openly disagreed with he-who-must-not-be-named’s speech and stormed out with about ten other wizards. My father and the others were never seen again.

In a small voice, I asked, "How do you know what happened at the meeting?"

With a heavy sigh, he replied, "We didn't know anything for the longest time. One day dad just didn't come home. It wasn't until three years later that we found out anything when my father's best friend came to our house in tears. He was at the meeting as well, but he had been put under an unforgivable curse called the Imperius curse, it can completely control someone's will. They had him ambush and assassinate his best friend. It was only after the death eater who had been controlling him was killed that he regained his freedom."

"So why don't you use his testimony to clear grandfather's name?" I challenged.

Closing his eyes in resignation, my father responded, "He killed himself less than a week later, he couldn't take the guilt of everything he had done while being controlled."

Not knowing how to handle all this information, I sat silently across from my father, watching the logs in the fireplace burn down. Before I left for the night, my father reminded me, "Don't ever let anyone say that our father supported you-know-who. He was simply one of the first wizards to challenge him and was killed for it. You should be proud of him, for being able to stand up and speak out against him, many wizards were too afraid to do so."

Before I left, I questioned, "If all that is true, then was Whithorn involved with the death eaters as well?"

"From everything your uncle and I have learned, he wasn't. We still don't know how he got our father to sign that magically binding contract. I believe the fire that burned down your grandfather's warehouse was that bastard's way of profiting from the chaos of our father's disappearance." Dad responded. "Now, get your butt to bed before your mum finds out you’re still up."

As I returned to my room, my mind still going over everything I had learned, I made a vow to myself that no matter what, I would get to the bottom of Whithorn's involvement. And once I found out the truth, he would pay dearly for everything he put my family through.