From Paris with Love...
It was a nice crisp morning in Manchester, a young lady was walking to her local coffee shop. Kirsten had been living here now for the past 4 weeks and was still finding
it depressing that she was no longer on the streets of the most romantic city in the whole world, Paris. She walked through the door of the coffee shop and was greeted
by a smile of the local barista who she recently learnt her name was Sasha. She took her usual seat by the window overlooking the canal, she liked to sit here so she could
people watch and daydream that she was in a Parisan coffee shop and not in Manchester. Sasha, a tall blonde girl who looked to be about 5 or 6 years younger then her came over to take her order. Kirsten smiled up at her " An Americano and a salmon bagel please, Sasha". Sasha smiled and floated away to the counter to sort out her order.
Kirsten smiled with envy, how she wished to be tall with blonde locks just like Sasha who looked so natural without makeup. Kirsten had a pale complexion like her estranged
father, ice blue eyes she inherited from her mother along with her dark brown wavy hair.
Kirsten's mother and father had divorced back when Kirsten was 5 years old. She never saw much of her father, he always seemed to be away from the family home. Her mother, Olivia always said he was away on business but Kirsten remembered all the arguments that always seemed to take place after her father had been away for days. Then one October afternoon her mother announced over breakfast that they were going away for a while to Spain to stay with a friend. Kirsten never saw her father after that day, in later years the reasons for her fathers absence were discovered. Her father along with his younger brother Lucius were part of the notorious death eaters, followers of
he who must not be named. Her mother who was from a neutral family left her father to start a new life in Spain stating they were no longer in love. Her father only had one love and it was not her mother but some madman . Her mother then met Kirsten's stepfather when she was about 6 years old, Alberto Dellacruz and they went on to have 2 children, Kirstens stepbrother and sister Luella and Sebastian. They were all living in Madrid and she was missing them dearly.
Kirsten pulled herself back to the present and thanked Sasha for the coffee and bagel. She sat there sipping her coffee and thinking about her upcoming job. She had just completed a potions mastery under Madam Lefonte who was a lead potions mistress in France and was potions mistress at the French Potions school, which was an International school and the most renowned in Europe. Kirsten enrolled there straight after Hogwarts where she was in the Ravenclaw house and had excelled at Potions. She had been accepted by Albus Dumbledore as a Potions apprentice and this would be a stepping stone to becoming a Potions mistress in a school. She was really looking forward to it but also nervous as sadly there was a war going on and she knew that eventually she would end up involved in it. Albus had already approached her about joined his secret society called The Order. She knew this year would be an eventful one as He who must not be named had been declared as being back from the dead. She was feeling disapointed about not working under Professor Snape like she had hoped, but Professor Slughorn but hopefully she would be able to get to spend some time with the number one potions master in the UK. She was hoping the rumours were incorrect and that he indeed was not a death eater.
After sitting there for too long, Kirsten paid her bill and left the shop to the cold outdoors. She strolled along the canal up to her modest little flat nearby. It was not anything special but would do until she went to Hogwarts where teaching quarters would be allocated to her. She would keep this flat on at least, so she had some where to retreat during the holidays if she did not go to Spain. She reached her front door and stepped through and smiled as she saw the moving pictures on the mantlepiece of her family. The Daily prophet lying on the table with the headlines of another tradgey concerning muggles. He had struck again and with a shiver she realised the war had well and truly begun.