An old Asian woman sits on a red barrel arm chair in front of a glowing fireplace. Her straight black hair is graying as the roots, but her brown eyes are still lit up with bravery, adventure, and mischief. She's flipping through what looks like an old notebook. It's red as well, with intricate gold patterns along the borders. A little boy, probably six years old, runs into the room. He smiles up at her and sits cross-legged on the carpet in front of the fire. She acknowledges him with a knowing smile, and flips to the first page.
"Ah, you want to hear more of Nana Quinn's adventures. But aren't you supposed to be in bed?" She smirked when the boy grinned cheekily at her. His stormy blue eyes reflected the fire, and in that moment, it reminded the old lady of the ambition of two Slytherins she had met during her years as a student at Hogwarts.
"I didn't wake mummy and daddy up, Nana." Suddenly, a sound came from the next room. The old lady rolled her eyes.
"I know you're there, you can come out." Two more children, one a little older than the first, and the other a little younger, clambered over and sat down next to the blue eyed boy. The oldest was a girl with straight black hair styled in a bob with a red ribbon keeping it out of her brown eyes. The old woman smiled, this was how she used to wear her hair. The youngest had wild, light brown hair and steely blue eyes. He had amazingly pale skin, almost translucent.
"We want to hear more stories, Nana Quinn!" The eldest exclaimed, clapping her hands. The old woman raised an eyebrow.
"Do you now? You know, it's way past your bedtime."
"It's the weekend, Nanakin," the youngest tried to pronounce her name. The middle child, who had arrived first, sat quietly, fiddling with his hands. The old woman almost laughed; he was so much like his grandfather.
"Please? We want to hear about Grandma Amelia!" The girl with black hair begged.
"And Hogwarts and Albany and you and Luke and Tristan and Quentin and Amelia and-" The youngest boy continued. The old woman rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Gregory, Eloise, Barclay, I'll tell you a few stories. But you have to promise to go to bed afterwards, yes?"
"Yes!"
"We promise!"
"Okay."
"Okay. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" The old woman reached over to a pair of glasses that were resting on the coffee table and put them on. "The beginning…" Nana Quinn smiled sadly at the first entry in her notebook. "I suppose we should start with Harry, then."
"Harry Potter?!" Eloise exclaimed. "You knew Harry Potter?!" The old woman chuckled.
"The next best thing, as he used to say. Harry Wolfenstein."
"Oooooohhhh." Eloise looked disappointed.
"What did he look like?" Barclay asked.
"Tall, skinny, blonde." Nana Quinn answered. "With a wide smile and unusually sharp teeth."
"What house was he in?" Gregory spoke up quietly.
"He was a Gryffindor, like myself. Cocky bastard. He was one of the bravest men I have ever known, too." Eloise, now interested, smiled.
"Tell us, tell us!"
The fire crackled and popped as the old woman began to tell her story.