Not Potter and the Chamber of Children
Chapter 1:
Sneaking and SneakersNoel
I poked my head around the corner and looked both ways before rushing down the 2, trying not to be seen. Usually I loved coming to France, getting to stay at the Avery Chateau or Villa, but this year, I was finding everything to be quite nightmarish. After the events of the Sorcerer's Stone, my parents could no longer overlook my horrid betrayal in being sorted into Gryffindor and making friends with muggleborns and blood traitors alike. Which meant that I had been strictly forbidden from any letter sending or receiving. A point that had been made even more clear following the letter I had received from Laura not a day into holiday. I shudder, thinking of my father's reaction and subconsciously raise a hand to my cheek. Luckily, I managed to get a letter to each of my friends, with Kidget's assistance, giving them specific instructions as to where to address my letter and what time to send it. Right now, it is approaching said time, 10 pm, or 9 pm if you're following UTC time. As such, I am currently making my way to the point of receival, the attic. If I do not get there just on time, I run the risk of someone else hearing the owl and my letter getting intercepted. That is why I am sneaking about as best as I can.
"Où allez-vous?"
Where are you going, a voice calls out from behind me. Bloody hell. I turn around to see my youngest cousin, Antoine.
Go away, I dismiss him, "M'en aller." Quickly continuing on my way and hoping beyond anything that he's not following me. When I reach the door to the east turret, I turn around, no Antoine in sight. He probably wandered off to find Javier or one of the other older boys.
Keeping my back to the door, so I can continue to monitor the hallway, I slowly push it open and slip inside. Taking a deep breath, I let myself relax, knowing all I have to do from here is pull open the trap door in the ceiling that leads to the attic. I lift my gaze to the ceiling and find the carefully hidden outline of the door. The attic is really just for storage, so why my family chose to hide the door leading to it is beyond me. I reach up and carefully push on the trace outline, muttering "ouvert la porte" as I do so, causing a square section of the ceiling to glimmer away and a thin ladder to fall down.
Once I am up the ladder, it disappears and the square chunk of wood shimmers back into solidarity. I slowly move towards the center of the circular, sloping-roofed room, to where I have pulled out an old trunk to act as a desk. I open the lid and pull out all the letters I have received so far. I have them separated by sender. Laura's pile looks to be the biggest, she tries to write to me once a week, but sometimes forgets. Then there are weeks where she writes me almost everyday. To be really positive who's wrote me the most, though, I'd have to count them, seeing as Hermione's pile isn't far behind Laura's, as far as height goes. She writes to me consistently every Friday night, very punctual, and has yet to forget once. Ron writes to me whenever he remembers, which you can't really expect to be consistent, seeing as it's Ron. So, his would be the tallest, that is if Harry had bothered to write me at all. I was positively fumeing for an entire week before I discovered that he had been similarly silent on everyone else's front as well. Now, I was just plain worried about him
I sighed as I sifted through the letter's. Today was Friday, so I decided to reread my favorite letter, one from Laura telling about her and some muggle boy going down to the beach by her house and seeing who could run the fastest on the rocky shore, as I waited for Hermione's owl. I let a smile trace my lips as I reread the well worn piece of parchment. I tried to imagine doing such a thing with one of my cousins and nearly laughed out loud thinking of any of them dirtying their new summer robes for messing up their perfectly groomed hair racing through the sand.
Laura
My back laid against the cool summer grass, my hair sprawled on the ground. My feet were rising in the air, leaned against the large oak tree in front of me. In my hands I held The Secret Garden, I could feel the pulsing of the tree moving from each vibration, and that happened often. Though I had come here to just read outdoors, Thomas decided that reading didn't suit his entertainment needs. So, whilst I happily relaxed, he embarked his mission to climb to the top of the tree.
I heard his feet scuff against the tree and watched as bits of bark fell down past the pages of my book. I kicked the tree hard, a silent signal for him to knock it off. I doubt he realized.
"Laaaaaauraaa," he sing-sanged, "Laura, Laura, Laura, look at this! I bet no one's ever climbed this whole tree." When I ignored him he continued, "Come on, look up! If you don't look up I'm gonna climb higher. Laura, Laura, fine, I suppose I must continue my daring climb."
I rolled my eyes at the pride in his voice. That idiot was going to get himself killed. I sighed and snapped my book shut. I figured it was better to just look up than get grounded for negligent homicide. For, if he didn't shut up, I might just throw my book and happen to knock him out of the tree.
I lifted my eyes to the branches above me and immediately regretted it.
"Laura!" Thomas exclaimed with a cheeky grin as he released his handhold on the branch to remain hanging by his knees, "I'm so brave, aren't I?"
"You're going to fall and crack your head open," I replied coolly.
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, "Calm down, mum."
I ignored him and opened my book again, only to nearly avoid getting whacked on the head by a rather large falling object. I turned to glare at the thing and came face to face with one of Thomas's trainers.
"Hey, could you throw that back up," I heard Thomas call from above.
I was just arranging myself to chuck it at him when a better thought entered my head. The perfect revenge. I was going to run away with Thomas's shoe. I stood up, calmly wiped the dirt off of my back, and set my book carefully at the bottom of the tree where I could retrieve it later. Then I began walking off down the street, shoe held above my head where Thomas could easily see it.
"Hey," the shout rang out from behind me, "Hey! Get back here! Laura! Laura I swear if you-"
I ignored his shouts and continued to walk calmly until I heard a lot of rustling branches, swiftly followed by a soft thud and a loud harumph.
Then, I began to run.
I sprinted around the corner and dove behind a bush. Even though I had a head start, he was still loads faster. It would be much more enjoyable to confuse him, then jump out and chuck the shoe at him. Preferably at his face. Plus, it would be loads less exhausting. I made sure that I was seated in a way that would allow a quick escape before risking a glance around the corner. What I saw forced me to curl in on myself as I fought to withhold fits of laughter.
There, trailing around the corner, was a practically fuming Thomas with a head full of dirt and one shoe missing. I watched him simultaneously run a hand through his hair and shake bits of gravel off his exposed sock as he attempted to determine where I had darted off to. I allowed him to amble down the street a bit. Watching him periodically jump at an unsuspecting bin or karate chop a gust of air as he attempted to determine where I was. Finally, he made his way to standing exactly two feet in front of my hiding spot. Hitting him in the face would be quite rude and I would so regret having to deal with a Thomas with a bloodied nose. This in mind, I set my aim for a new target as I jumped out from behind the bush.
Score! Square in the stomach.