Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter world which is owned by J. K. Rowling. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and the events which happen in this story are not canon. I am not profiting financially from this story. I only own my own plot ideas, which make up only a part of the plot, and original characters. Thank you J. K. Rowling for thinking up such a world as wonderful as Harry Potter.
Prologue
Holly Bisset POV
"Holly, darling, your dad and I have been discussing, and we've decided that you'll be staying with your uncle Albus in the United Kingdom while we attend to some business…We've already made all the arrangements…You'll be transferring back to Hogwarts for your fifth year…"
I'm not angry at my parents. At least not because they made me transfer schools. If anything, I'm upset at them for suddenly springing it on me a week before semester started. But then again, it doesn't matter that much. And being upset wouldn't be of help to anyone or anything.
As one could probably tell, I'm pretty nonchalant when it comes to most things. In many ways, it's a virtue. In my case, it may or may not be a virtue. Cough, sarcasm, cough.
I'm a French-Canadian half-blood witch; my dad's a pureblood from France and my mom's a muggle from Canada. In my first year as a magic student, I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Then, my family and I relocated to France and I attended l'académie de magie de Beauxbâtons a.k.a. Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic for my second through fourth years. And now, I'm fifteen and I'm transferring back to Hogwarts for my fifth year as a magic student.
I put Kanna, my black cat with the ability to talk, in her traveling bag before putting the traveling bag into my black shoulder bag along with the rest of my belongings. I then slung my shoulder bag over my shoulder, and pinned my special pin to my breast pocket on my black blazer.
"Holly, are you ready? We have to go," my mom called.
"Tying my Converse, mom," I answered, slipping on and lacing up my dark blue high top converse.
I looked at myself one last time in the mirror - not that I cared much for my looks but no one really wants to look so horrible that they look like they were in a terrible accident or something. Satisfied with my appearance, I joined my parents and we all Disapparated to King's Cross Station in London, England.