Disclaimer: Dang it. You guys caught me through my Joanne mask and blonde wig.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, very much, BECAUSEIMCLEVER12 for being the first follower and favoriter of my story. I can already tell she's an awesome lassie.
Also, I shall be doing a Trivia Question each chapter. Whoever gets it right, shall be featured on my story. :D
Trivia Question: How old is Harry at the end of the book?
Chapter Three: First Year III: Transfer
"Dad!" I tackled my father to the grown, sobbing. "I missed you."
Alright, I admit. When I saw my father, I nearly broke it.
He was still a redhead. I don't know what spell he used, because he still looked a bit young, and could move like it, too. He removed the silly earring he used to have. After the war, he became an Auror. He usually does paperwork, and then plunges into adventures—he sometimes goes with his brother, Ron, and Uncle Harry. Last month, he detained—singlehandedly!—a potential dark wizard who was trying to attack wizards. He simply casted a spell, (I didn't recognise it when he said it) and the wizard was detained.
I adored it when he came home with scratches as my mother scolded him for "being dangerous", got her wand, and performed a healing spell, and he sat on our large sofa and excitedly told us the exciting, adventurous stories.
Today, however, he looked grim.
"Dad, what's wrong?" I questioned as he took Victoire's arm.
"Hold tightly," She instructed, and I clapsed my arm around hers, squeezing as hard as I can. I felt something flutter in my stomach, and I felt myself whizzing—as if whizzing through time.
We landed in front of our house; after I was born, they decided that we had to move. It was a nice neighborhood in Cokeworth. A few Muggles lived there, however, so we were forced to be careful with Apparating. We had to Obliviate tons of Muggles.
We entered our house quietly, curiosity engulfing me.
"What's wrong?" I finally asked as we entered our house. He collapsed on the sofa, running his fingers through his long, red hair.
"L—Look," He said, his voice quivering, "Times… are tough, now."
I bit my lip. Were we getting evicted?
Apparently, sisters think alike. Victoire was much braver than me.
"Are we losing our house?" She asked. I tucked a strand of short red hair behind my ear. (I never really enjoyed my red hair. Sure, it was the mark of the Weasleys. But have you ever seen a Veela with red hair? That's why Aunt Gabrielle is Victoire's godmother. She loves her more because Victoire resembles her.)
"No, no," My father assured us quickly. "Something… happened at the Auror office."
I bit my lip, bracing myself.
"Voldemort's back?" I blurted out. I couldn't bear—oh, it'd be horrible! If he was back—Uncle Harry would be… Cousin Lily!
Dad gave Mum a worried glance, then took my hands.
"Dominique," He said slowly, "Victoire was named for, 'victory.' I saw Uncle Harry kill him—he's gone. Forever, alright?"
"B—But what about those Death Devourers—"
"Nope," He said. "All gone."
I nodded, feeling relieved.
"At the Auror office, someone was viciously murdered."
We gasped at the sentence. Fear stroke me.
"What?" Victoire whispered.
"It was a very, very, dark spell we couldn't recognise—we took him to the Healers so we could find out. It's not Avada Kedavra. It looks like he's been tortured with the Crucio Spell, then hit with the next. How they got in, I don't even know. We… we think there is a mole."
I ran my fingers through my hair.
"So—what's going on?" Victoire asked, peering at my father anxiously.
"Your mother was… hired to be a researcher. We're really down on the Healers—most of them aren't researchers. Your mother has medical background. She'll be a Healer."
Mum sat next to my father, taking his hands.
"We'll 'ave to ahjust to this, now. I weel be out and so weel 'our father. So, wee have decided that 'ou weel be staying with the Wheezleeys."
We gave them a blank stare.
"Which one?" Victoire asked finally.
"Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione," Our father answered finally.
I wasn't sure whether to groan, be sorrowful, or be happy. Ron was fine, and so was Aunt Hermione—but they were a bit mad.
"Why can't we live with my godmother?" I asked, knitting my eyebrows together. AUNT Ginny was a former Quidditch Player, and I wanted to know as much as I could with Quidditch.
"Because she already has two kids—one who is a troublemaker, the other's very whiny. She can't—"
"I'll start packing," She said, and trudged upstairs. Wondering what was wrong with her, I followed in pursuit.
The green flames barely touched me as I felt myself grow light. I ended up in another chimney that wasn't out. My face had soot smeared over, concealing my face-freckles.
I took off my cloak, and looked around.
"Welcome to our home!" I heard a familiar voice. Aunt Hermione peered anxiously at me. Her hair was in a bun. It had lost some of its frizz, I heard, but still had its bushy self. She was able, however, to slip it into a ponytail. Her warm, chocolate brown eyes were on me, and she gave me a grin.
"Aunt Hermione," I said gasping as I wiped soot off my face, "Y—You… you look—you're a housewife?"
"Oh, no," She said, shaking her head, "I would never. I am, however, being given a vacation."
I gave a grateful grin. Victoire came in second, and immediately hugged Hermione.
"Where's Uncle Ron?" She said, gasping.
"He's at the Auror Office." A smile wiped off her face. "I take it you—"
"Yeah," I said, my features growing sorrowful. "Mum is going to research on the body."
"I'll have to research the evidence," She said, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Tomorrow, actually."
I peered around the house. It was very nice and cosy looking.
"Where'll be spending our Christmas?"
"The Burrow," Hermione said excitedly. "I can't wait to see what Molly's cooking u—oh! Silly me!" She slapped her forehead. "I forgot to owl her to tell her we're coming. Please, excuse me!"
She disappeared from view, to the sound of hooting, and I fell on the leather couch.
"Don't you like it, Vic?" I asked her, wiping soot off my nose.
She nodded, but she was silent.
She patted her tawny owl softly.
"I have to go Owl my friends," She said. She took out a roll of parchment, ink, and a quill, took her owl cage, and slipped away.
"I guess it's just you and me, Athena," I said, sighing as I patted my eagle owl. She hooted in response, and I felt as if I were nodding off, plunging into a new sleep.
