'Please try to behave yourself Reene. With your record, I highly doubt any other Headmaster or Headmistress will be as generous as Dumbledore.' ordered my mother as we stepped through the barrier onto Platform 9 and ¾.
'Yes ma'am!' I replied, saluting my mother. I had momentarily forgotten that I was lugging my trunk with that hand, and my trunk to fell to the ground with a loud thump. Luckily it was very loud on Platform 9 and ¾ and only a few people in close proximity of us glanced in our direction, but returned to their business shortly. My mother raised her eyebrows in a way that said really?
She is beautiful, my mother. She has perfect skin, long legs that allowed her to pull off any dress, enticing olive green eyes and to top it all off wavy golden brown hair that always looked like it deserved to have an article dedicated to it in the hair section of Witch Weekly. Being muggle-born, she loved and owned many fashionable items from muggle designer brands.
I am a completely different story. I don't have sexy long legs, I'm only 5'4". I have bad tan lines from playing quidditch almost every single day of the summer. I do own a vast wardrobe full of delicate and might I add highly uncomfortable pieces of clothing thanks to my mother, but I find that my pyjamas are a better option. There's really no need to change out of them when you are not having any guests, right? I have been told that I have tantalizing faded blue-green eyes, but I don't really care about my appearance. A couple of years ago, my mother nearly fainted when I returned home for Christmas with a pixie cut. I thought it was brilliant because I didn't have to brush it and it never got in the way of anything. It's pretty annoying playing quidditch with long strands of hair flying around your face and distorting your vision of bludgers. My mother on the other hand thought it was ridiculous and grew it back with a flick of her wand. Apparently, the only beauty that managed to be genetically transferred to me was the naturally wavy, shiny hair. I was forbidden to ever spontaneously cut off my hair and she even wrote a letter to Madame Maxime to make sure I never did such a thing ever again.
So right now I'm stuck with stupid hair flying in my face and tickling my nose. I began swatting at my hair, probably looking like a complete idiot when someone grabbed my wrist. 'What? Now I'm not allowed to even touch my hair?' I asked in an annoyed tone, thinking it was my mother. Except it wasn't my mother. It was a tall, red-headed male who looked around my age. My mother was in the distance introducing herself to a group of mothers. He let go of my wrist and tucked my loose strands of hair behind my ear, his eyes never leaving mine. Not being use to such actions, I awkwardly jerked my head away and took a small step away from the boy. He seemed to notice and let out a small laugh.
'Hi, you happen to look very much like that pretty young lady who got expelled from Beauxbatons for setting off fireworks in the dining hall and destroying ze ice sculptures' he announced, holding out his hand. 'I'm Fred Weasley.'
His faux French accent was so pathetic that I laughed. Smiling, I ignored his waiting hand and gave a little waved instead. 'I'm Reene Edwardson' I said in my slight Australian accent.
'Alright mate!' Fred exclaimed in a terrible Australian accent. 'Listen, my twin George and I would really love you to join us in our compartment. We're sitting in the last one, so come find us when you have decided to stop hitting yourself.' He smirked and walked towards to the Hogwarts Express, turning back to send me a wink before climbing on.
Not happening buddy, I thought. I'm not the type of person to go sit with a stranger who just tucked my hair behind my ear like couples did in cheesy romance movies. He did seem like a nice person though, but I'm feeling like some alone time in my own compartment to finish off reading Confronting the Faceless, our Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook for the year.
'Oh he was rather good looking' said my mother as she suddenly appeared next to me, nudging me in the arm and wiggling her eyebrows. 'It's people with looks like that that make wish I could go to back to school. Do you think Dumbledore would let me hang around the grounds?'
'Mum! He's half your age!' I moaned. 'Now I have to go or else there won't be any empty compartments left and also because I don't want to be near you if you start handing out our address to strangers telling them to write. Bye Mum!' Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, I ran off to board the train before she began lecturing me about my behaviour. The only empty compartment left was near the back of the train and I quickly slipped in, shoved my trunk away and plopped down onto the seat. Making myself comfortable, I pulled out Confronting the Faceless and began to read where I left off, only to hear a soft knocking on my compartment door.
This is my first fanfic so reviews will be greatly appreciated! Hope you liked it!