This story contains my own characters, with a few old, familiar ones from Harry Potter- but not many.
Don't own Harry Potter, etc.
In the beginning, she didn't believe in magic.
It wasn't Eva's fault, really. It was how she had been raised. Her parents were the sensible kind, running their home in a strict, orderly fashion, and always busy at their jobs. They didn't always have time for Eva, try as they might. Their constant business trips landed her at her aunt's house more frequently than she liked.
Her aunt was all right. Not the most interesting person to be staying with. She was always silent, and just let Eva watch television and play on the computer as much as she wanted. Sometimes, she'd start to say something, but stop herself and resume silently reading.
At night was a different matter. She could hear her aunt pacing the halls, followed by long periods of silence. Eva had gotten out of bed on several occasions to see what was happening, but her aunt was nowhere to be found in her little apartment.
She was nine when she discovered her aunt's secret.
It had been the same old nightmare that woke her up- the one with the ghost staring at her. Eva would try to run, but she could hardly move. She would grab onto objects and pull herself along, until one broke and she was sucked back. Then she would wake up in a panic.
She could hear her aunt moving about, and got out of bed. She needed to talk to someone, and her parents weren't even on the same continent.
Her aunt disappeared into the study. Eva followed, just in time to see her step into her fireplace.
Everything went cold. Her aunt had just walked into fire, and was nowhere to be found. She had- well, pretty much killed herself. Eva curled up in an armchair and cried herself to sleep.
She woke up the next morning to a near explosion in the fireplace. Emerald flames were shooting out of it, casting shadows across the room. And then there was something alive, crawling out of the fire. Eva screamed.
"What?"
"Aunt Gwen!" Eva realized who was standing there. She ran over and threw her arms around her. "I thought you were dead," she sobbed.
Her aunt patted her hair and let her cry. "I think it's high time we talk to your parents."
"They're gone away, remember?"
"We can go to them." Her aunt threw a handful of powder into the fire, picked up Eva, and stepped once again into the fireplace.
Her parents weren't too happy to see them.
"Gwen," scolded Eva's mother, "we were going to wait."
"I think now is a good time, considering she's been spying on me."
Eva's mother looked over to Eva's father, who shrugged.
Aunt Gwen sat on a nearby chair. "I'm a witch, Eva," she said, "and so are you."