A scream. A mirthless laugh. A flash of bright green light -then everything went dark.
I awoke drenched in sweat, hot tears flooding down my cheeks. My parents last moments came flooding back to me, as they did every night. My eyes drifted to the alarm clock on my bedside table. It read 4:16 A.M. Around this time, I would usually grow scared and wake up my Gran for her to comfort me. But lately, I had found ways to comfort myself. I knew i had to fall back asleep. We had a big day tomorrow. I was going back to England. We would leave France. Leave all the memories that held pain and sadness. Loneliness.
I turned on my left side and what met my eyes made fresh tears well up. It was a picture 5 years back. Me, Papa, and Mother. But someone else who's name I will not even think. I turned to the opposite side so the images of my lost family would not disturb my last few hours of peacefulness. Or somewhat peacefulness.
The next morning, all I heard was the "hurry up" from my Gran. She was French, and didn't know much English, so we conversed in mainly French.
I was born in England on May 11th. My mum met my Papa at a bakery in Switzerland. Papa was traveling abroad for experience. Mum was visiting a friend who had moved a couple years back. While walking back to the parking lot to apparate, Mum had spilled coffee all over Papa's front. He had been struck by her beauty and had (in the heat of the moment) taken her hand. Papa had always been one who acted on impulse, not careful thought. Mother was the exact opposite. A year later they were married and mom pregnant with me. Papa was French and wanted to move back to France, but Mom wanted me to grow up in England and go to Hogwarts. Filled with love for his wife, Papa agreed. When I was 6, we moved to France, because I had a brother then. We stayed until the accident 6 and a half weeks ago. Now, we (me, Gran, and Grandpapa) were moving back to England where we could start anew. Fresh and without the whispers and stares of our equals here. I was fifteen and unlike so many people. I was not sassy, or unique. I had plain brown ringlets that moved with me when I walked.
Unlike all the other French here, I had a natural british accent, which I was proud of. It made me stand out, made me a tad different from the rest.
"Evelyn, viens! Nous devons reprendre notre Portoloin!" yelled Gran. Evelyn, come! We need to catch our Portkey!
"Coming!"
I grapped my bag and ran out the door. Grandpapa was gonna apparate to bring our luggage to our destination, but Gran decided to just use a portkey. She had a deathly fear of apparition ever since her colleague having splinched half her organs. I shuddered at the gruesome image blew into my mind.
As I heaved my bag onto my back, the golden sock glowed blue. I grabbed it before It could leave without me. Suddenly, I was whipped off my feet and rose in the air, glued to the sock by my hand.
My knees collasped as I fell out of the sky on a green rolling hill. As i groaned and looked up Gran was standing, looking as fresh as ever.
"Well, Evelyn thats it," she said. As I followed her gaze, i could see a 2 story house looking welcoming and new.
THATS IT, i thought, MY NEW HOME
A/N: Sorry for mistakes and the fact that it is such a short chappie! Kisses and PLEASE REVIEW!