Disclaimer: I did not write this story, my friend did and asked me to upload it onto here because
she is having problems with ff.net. She does not own any of the characters. Her name is Stephanie.
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Near a small chain of mountains, next to a salty river,
there was a house, placed daintily on a foothill, where the Hawkins lived.
It was a remote town; the Hawkins didn't wish to interact with muggles anyway.
The weather was usually warm with occasional precipitation, which this family valued.
In this family there were two parents, Renée Hawkins and Jacob Hawkins.
They had an impressive daughter, Lyndal who was attending Hogwarts as a 5th year the next day, in Gryffindor house.
The Hawkins's and the Weasley's were friends from back to their childhood days at Hogwarts, and kept in touch over the years.
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Hawkins grew up in the same neighborhood in London and had attended the same wizarding school.
Their children vaguely knew each other, but occasionally smiled or waved in the hallways. This subject was
discussed during dinner.
"That Ron," began Mr. Hawkins, "Such a character!"
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Hawkins chimed in, "Isn't he going to be a 5th year, like you Lyn?"
After a few moments of waiting for an answer from Lyndal, Mrs. Hawkins grew impatient, but only
sighed and cleared the table from their Turkey meal.
"Yes, he is, mum," the girl said finally, she despised when they brought up the fact that she and Ron were
in the same year, and how they weren't friends.
"Well, that's all you had to say," said Renée with disappointment. This is where all of their conversations
about the Weasley's went, into an argument. She saw "The Look" on her father's face, which told her she had not been
acting properly, and before he would erupt, she excused herself from the table.
In her bedroom, her dark purple walls had been painted the week before, and her white rug was also a new addition.
Her room was not large, nor was it small, but it was most definitely cozy and tidy.
In the corner, lying on a dark red cushion was her black cat, Frank, who did not wish to be disturbed during
his frequent cat naps. Above the cat, perched on a silver chain, was her Snowy owl, Charms.
The next day she would be running through the brick column, leading her to the platform nine and three quarters,
she couldn't wait. Frank was awake, and strode over to Lyndal's bed, purring for attention.
The cat jumped onto her bed, which was at least three feet off the ground, and walked over his master's stomach,
in case she hadn't noticed him yet. She stroked him, for a few minutes, but it was late, and she soon drifted off to sleep.
she is having problems with ff.net. She does not own any of the characters. Her name is Stephanie.
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Near a small chain of mountains, next to a salty river,
there was a house, placed daintily on a foothill, where the Hawkins lived.
It was a remote town; the Hawkins didn't wish to interact with muggles anyway.
The weather was usually warm with occasional precipitation, which this family valued.
In this family there were two parents, Renée Hawkins and Jacob Hawkins.
They had an impressive daughter, Lyndal who was attending Hogwarts as a 5th year the next day, in Gryffindor house.
The Hawkins's and the Weasley's were friends from back to their childhood days at Hogwarts, and kept in touch over the years.
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Hawkins grew up in the same neighborhood in London and had attended the same wizarding school.
Their children vaguely knew each other, but occasionally smiled or waved in the hallways. This subject was
discussed during dinner.
"That Ron," began Mr. Hawkins, "Such a character!"
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Hawkins chimed in, "Isn't he going to be a 5th year, like you Lyn?"
After a few moments of waiting for an answer from Lyndal, Mrs. Hawkins grew impatient, but only
sighed and cleared the table from their Turkey meal.
"Yes, he is, mum," the girl said finally, she despised when they brought up the fact that she and Ron were
in the same year, and how they weren't friends.
"Well, that's all you had to say," said Renée with disappointment. This is where all of their conversations
about the Weasley's went, into an argument. She saw "The Look" on her father's face, which told her she had not been
acting properly, and before he would erupt, she excused herself from the table.
In her bedroom, her dark purple walls had been painted the week before, and her white rug was also a new addition.
Her room was not large, nor was it small, but it was most definitely cozy and tidy.
In the corner, lying on a dark red cushion was her black cat, Frank, who did not wish to be disturbed during
his frequent cat naps. Above the cat, perched on a silver chain, was her Snowy owl, Charms.
The next day she would be running through the brick column, leading her to the platform nine and three quarters,
she couldn't wait. Frank was awake, and strode over to Lyndal's bed, purring for attention.
The cat jumped onto her bed, which was at least three feet off the ground, and walked over his master's stomach,
in case she hadn't noticed him yet. She stroked him, for a few minutes, but it was late, and she soon drifted off to sleep.