Dedicated to: Gehlo, Ja2x, Nichz, Lai2x, Pawla, Seatmate, Yuklideanz and those I know love Harry Potter. :) 0-0
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, in any way, Harry Potter characters, original book plot, among others. Rowling has. It's only Marguerite Corneille that I have. No one and nothing else.
Enjoy reading, as much as I did writing.
CHAPTER 1 - Marguerite
There was a weird and peculiar feeling I was having as I dismounted my broomstick. It would be really nice if I didn't need to go to this place I had never laid my eyes on before. It was the Burrow. The house of my last relatives. It was still dark, though the sun was slowly rising, casting dim orange hues everywhere. I was tired. Of course, anyone should be. Imagine having to fly across the English Channel for twelve hours, without even a minute rest. Anyway, here I was now. And I couldn't back off.
I set foot on the doorstep and with hands trembling from fatigue, knocked impotently at the door. I waited. There was a nasty surge of heat across my face. It was searing, but not for long. The door finally opened.
And here was the plump and little aunt of mine, Mrs. Molly Weasley, beaming at me. She had tears in her eyes, though.
"Oh, dear, Marguerite!" she mumbled, jittering, and took me to her embrace. It was warm, comforting. I felt tears stinging my eyes. "How come you didn't tell us you'll be coming? We should have been the ones to pick you!" she added, looking at me straight in the eyes. She was indeed my aunt. The sister of my mom.
"I can't wait, Aunt Molly. It's just really murky out there, having no one to be with me. But really, I loved the ride though it's really nicking my head out," I said, trying to mask the jolting my throat was doing.
Aunt Molly heaved a great sigh, closing her eyes. Then she turned to me again. "Well, here you are now. We can't do anything about it. Besides, you're still my loveliest niece." She giggled. I did. "Come on. I know you're tired and disheveled and oh, Marguerite! If only I've been you're mom, I would take the stuffing out of you!" She sniggered as she led me to the table. "Who am I, in any way, to do that?"
"Who else would you be? My mom's loveliest and tiniest sister."
We both laughed. She took a toast and started to butter it for me. I sat awkwardly on the wooden stool and thought of the day ahead. The sun had finally risen to its half and it deepened my loneliness. It would be the first day that I would spend alone. I missed my Mom and Dad. Badly. And it hurt so fathomlessly that I wouldn't want to see the great golden ball kiss the blissful sky.
"Dear, I know what you're going through. And I'm just here for you. We are." Aunt Molly's cool voice broke the cascade of thoughts and feelings in my mind…and soul.
I was stifled by a deep sigh of indifference. It hurt so much. Tears began to pour right down my cold face. They were too freezing. I wanted warmth. Warmth that Aunt gave me. I thought I would be all right, but the zeal seemed to melt the petrified emotions deep down. And it pierced even more.
How long Aunt Molly had held me snugly, I didn't know. But one inept noise out the dim corner of my mind made me jerk.
It was just after I had poured all my pain had I glimpsed a distorted image of two boys and two girls, all had red hair except one of the girls, who had bushy brown. Tears were still brimming my weary eyes and so I didn't realize who they were until I had wiped my face off. My heart leapt with joy as I exchanged looks with Fred, George, and Ginny―three of my beloved cousins. We didn't blink. Nor moved. After a minute's pause, they all trotted toward me and enveloped me with their tightest, most heart-warming hug. Did Fred and George really embrace me? But really, I was overwhelmed.
"Marguerite, how are you?" Ginny asked shakily.
"Of course she's not fine!" Fred retorted, and I was shocked.
"Really, Ginny, I guess your senses need exercise," George added.
"A lot of exercise. Want to try?" And then Fred took something out of his robe that looked like a candy. "Marguerite, this is one of our…finest delicacies."
"Eye-Opener mints," George proudly announced, brandishing another right to my eyes. "Only for three knuts."
There was a sudden bang. Sparks flew high into the air, and instead of two, a dozen of Fred and George's mints landed on Aunt Molly's shuddering hand. She looked dangerously outraged. "HAVE I NOT TOLD YOU TO NEVER―NEVER―SHOW ME THESE INANE PRODUCTS OF YOURS?" she wheezed through gritted teeth. "ACCIO! ACCIO! ACCIO! " And with another flick of her wand, everything the twins were hiding landed on the dust bin.
It might have been most probably because of all the racket down the kitchen that footsteps rushing downstairs echoed through the cold silence that had followed the fleet of anger. Four figures appeared in the dark kitchen, and now I could see them well. One was my uncle, Mr. Arthur Weasley, tall and balding, my other cousin, Percy, smug and conceited with his brother Ron, gangling and blushing, and the last one, whom I didn't know, was a boy with round glasses, jet-black hair, and green eyes.
"Marguerite! Oh, dear!" Uncle Arthur exclaimed, shattering the utter silence. He walked toward me and patted my head. "You should've told us that you'll be coming, not that you flew all by yourself all the way from France!"
"She's from France?" came a rather fidgety sort of voice, making me glance above Uncle Arthur's shoulder. And there I saw Ron elbowing the four-eyed boy right at the ribs.
"Ssshhhh!" whispered Ron, although I heard it so clearly. The boy massaged his ribs and made a face, and I caught his gaze, felt a sudden unsteady jolt at the pit of my stomach, making me blush. I quickly looked away. It was then that I realized that I looked so much as a laughingstock. Of course I was. Imagine flying from France to Britain? Stupid, isn't it?
My musing suddenly lingered away as Uncle Arthur patted me again. "By the way, Marguerite, I'd like to introduce to you…" he began, and turned to the two strangers Ron was standing with, "Hermione Granger."
The girl with the bushy brown hair took a step forward and I stood up, met her, and shook hands. I smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Granger, I'm Marguerite Corneille," I said, beaming at her.
"A pleasure Ms. Corneille," she replied, beaming as wide as I was. She let go of me, and turned to the four-eyed boy who was peering at me in a most scrutinizing way.
Uncle Arthur cleared his throat loudly and continued, "And of course, Harry Potter."
There was a sudden fleet of warmth across my face. Was he really Harry Potter? Anyway, I just didn't want to look as though I had never been this shocked as any moment of my life before. It was just that it was indeed surprising to find myself face-to-face with The Boy Who Lived. But don't get me wrong, I wasn't a fan.
Wanting not to give a wrong notion of my true reaction, I gave an impassive smile and offered a hand. "Oh, it's Harry Potter, The boy Who Lived. Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."
He gazed at me in probable awe, perhaps it had been the way I spoke, a rather indifferent tone. Gingerly, he walked toward me, took my hand, and said, "Same here, Ms. Corneille." He let go, making me blush a little bit more, as he flashed a smile.
"All right, everyone, be seated and we'll have breakfast," Aunt Molly announced. We did as she said.
At the table, everyone seemed so subdued (especially Fred and George who had been knitting their eyebrows together and crossing their arms around their chests). I myself felt like having to keep quiet, not until Uncle Arthur commenced a conversation.
"Now, Harry, Hermione," he said, looking at the two, "this niece of ours is the daughter of the younger sister of Molly. They had been in France since Celine had married the French wizard Pepito Corneille."
"Excuse me, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione suddenly. "Marguerite, why have you gone all the way from France to come to England?"
I knew she never intended to offend me or anything, but I was hurt. Everyone seemed to notice, even Hermione, for they all went rigid. Casting my eyes down my clenched fists on my lap, I swallowed and replied, "They've been murdered." I closed my eyes before the fresh pool of tears flow all down my face.
"I-I-I am sorry to hear that, Marguerite. I shouldn't have asked. You shouldn't have bothered to answer. Sorry," she murmured apologetically.
I sniffed. "It's all right. At least you know." Plastering a crooked smile, I looked at her. She did the same.
"Anyways, have you indeed flown from France to Britain?" Harry asked hopefully.
Trying to fight back a snigger, I nodded. His face warped.
"What's your broom?"
"A Firebolt."
His face contracted even more. Ron chuckled. "he's a Quidditch player, you see," he whispered. "He also has a Firebolt."
"Oh, I see. Harry, what are you playing?" I asked, suddenly struck with interest.
Harry sighed and said, "I'm the team Seeker."
That was really fantastic. Of all the team players, being the Seeker is the most taxing task. I was only a Chaser in Beauxbatons. And Harry Potter was a Seeker? He was starting to get into me. What was I thinking… or rather, feeling? Believing I would never meet this wonder boy, all I thought of him for the past years was a bigheaded tad too pleased of his victory against the Dark Lord. But as I now could see, he was no arrogant young man. He was the very opposite.
Right after breakfast, Aunt Molly bewitched the plates to wash all by themselves and the table to be clean and proper. Fred and George were still avoiding their mother's eyes, although I knew that Aunt Molly had already gotten over the argument. The twins along Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny huddled by the back door while Percy just went away to climb the zigzagging staircase, probably to finish another of his reports for the Ministry. I came to the group.
"Marguerite, we'll be going to the pitch. Let's play Quidditch," Fred said after a moment of silence.
"Oh, yes, we'll come too," said Ginny, elbowing Hermione gently, who rapidly made a surly expression.
Ron twitched his eyebrows. "Oh, come on, Ginny. You're not supposed to play Quidditch."
"Why can't she?" I retorted. "She's still human. Besides, I'm not going without a female company."
George turned to the other boys and sighed. "Oh, all right." Ginny and I giggled, while Hermione scowled, almost looking as though she had the same faces of the boys.
We then took our brooms and walked to the pitch. It was surrounded by a fence and apple trees abloom with red, ripe fruits. I took one from a low-hanging branch, mounted my broom, and yelled, "Hey, George, pitch this!", throwing the apple at him. He made an excellent swerve and Ron caught it. He threw it to Fred and as the fruit soared high up to the air, I directed my broom to where it was going, sped up, but then Harry blocked my way. He was indeed a good flyer, and it was Firebolt against Firebolt. Doing my best to keep him out of way, I noticed that the apple was going down. Making an about-face, I sped up to the fruit's direction. Harry was just tailing me and I accelerated even more. He was too good. But I knew I was better. Then hastily, he came in front of me just when I didn't expect him to, making me feel the notion that he would have the apple first. And I was correct. He clapped his two hands against the fruit and soared high up in the air, just few feet above me, raising the red, distorted apple.
He shone differently from this position where I was suspended.
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Well, that's it. First chapter. Kindly give a nice review. I'll appreciate it much! Salamat!
-four-eyed- 0-0