They were witches now, witches of the Revour Academy of Magic.

They were also, as some people so accurately put it, beauties. Beauties who climbed into their teens with enthusiasm and cheer and joy, beauties who loved quidditch - even if they were not that good at it - and played wizards’ chess - which they were good at - and were amazing students.

They had the same eyes, the same hair, the same height, and both of them were stunningly gorgeous. But one of them was wiser, more thoughtful, and one of them - in so many senses! - deeper, more innocent-looking.

To them, these tiny differences did not matter. Their hearts were one, and so were their souls. They were best friends who, between themselves, shared everything there was, could be, to share; who made chums but never entirely revealed themselves to anyone except each other; who laughed and cried together.

They were bonded in love, and they realized it. And as they grew up they realized, too, how much better at magic they were than those around them, how much more powerful.

In their third year, they learned of Voldemort, a young dark wizard who was gaining more and more power by the day, a young dark wizard who had already gathered armies and who was now indestructible.

In their third year, they learned of Voldemort, a young dark wizard who had once been, like them, a student who was admired by those that taught him, looked up to by those he hung out with.

In their third year, they learned of Voldemort, and that he had been barely fourteen when he had killed their parents when they caught him breaking into their house.

From then on, their paths separated.

- As one of the twins began to hate the Dark Arts, the other’s fascination with it began.