Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Except for Mirabelle and her
siblings. I don't own the settings other than Mirabelle's house and
hometown. I don't own the original Harry Potter story. I don't own the
movie (in any way, shape, or form) but I do own the twisted little ways I
screw up these people's lives. Please don't sue me. I have no money. All I
have are two teeny bitty doggies, a cat, a guinea pig, and a chab
(chow/lab). And some sketchbooks. But you can't have them.
Notes 'n stuffs: I will finish this. I promised myself. I have about a bazillion stories that I haven't finished yet, but I have been working on them a little bit sporadically. That is to say, about a paragraph per story, per 4-6 months. Pathetic? Of course. Oh yeah. About the French I've used: if you want to know what it means, just go to http://translator.dictionary.com/text.html. That's where I got it. It's really easy.
Mirabelle Après
Once there was a girl named Mirabelle. She lived in a tiny, cozy cottage in the woods of the French countryside with her younger sister and baby brother. The little house was covered in ivy, and had moss all over it's roof, so it looked like it had just popped out of the ground, pretty and white underneath. Most of the time, you could find Mirabelle in the front of the house, feeding wild deer or tending to her siblings. When they could, they tried to go to school, but of late, the school had started to refuse them, as they weren't registered. So they stayed at home, doing laundry, cutting wood, and basically just taking care of the home. Since their parents had died, Mirabelle took full responsibility; she was like a new mother to Melodie and the yet infantile Olivier.
Now, being only half-past-ten, the girl was accomplishing quite a feat by taking care of a six year old and ten month old. Sometimes Belle, as her sister called her, told fortunes using her mother's Tarot, her own crystal ball, or simply reading palms. Her customers were thrilled with the uncanny accuracy of the young girl's readings, but spiteful little children who came with their parents or older brothers or sisters spread nasty rumors. While it was true that Mirabelle was a witch, having been raised in an actively practicing family, and it was true she performed rituals and spells, and had herbs hanging from ceilings, it was not true that she did evil of any sort. One boy, jealous of Mirabelle's talent, told everyone he knew that he had seen her talking to the devil in her fireplace. Of course, anyone who really knew Belle saw right through the lie, but others shunned her. This hurt her a bit, but she carried on, using her profits to buy food and other necessities.
As the months passed, Melodie fell ill. Any remedy Mirabelle knew could not cure her sickness, and the small family had no money to buy medicine with. Melodie would surely die if they could not get help. Then, on May 13, Mirabelle's birthday, a letter arrived. It was strange, really. A large, tawny brown owl delivered it. It contained a letter, and a glass vial with pretty green liquid inside it. The letter invited her to a school in England called Hogwarts. Now, we all know that Beauxbatons is the magical school of France, but because the school wouldn't provide accommodations for the two younger children, and Mirabelle would never allow herself to be separated from them, Hogwarts accepted her instead. They would take care of Melodie and Olivier while Belle was at school, but it was back home for all three when summer came. Of course, Mirabelle was going to go, but what about Melodie? And where would she get her supplies? Luckily, the school knew all about her situation, and not only sent her school things, train ticket, and a Portkey to King's Cross, but a neat little necklace that would allow her to speak and understand English!
On September first, at nine o' clock in the morning Mirabelle and her two siblings were whisked away to King's Cross. Where they had now idea how to get onto the platform. Spotting a kind-looking woman with a ton of children and flaming red hair, she approached and said, "Excusez-moi, ma'am. Savez-vous obtenir sur des quarts de la plateforme neuf et trois?" Upon sighting the blank look on the woman's face, Mirabelle suddenly smacked herself on the forehead. "Merde d'Oh! J'ai oublié le collier!" She turned to Melodie and said, "Melodie, font sortir le collier de mon sac. C'est le choker noir de sild avec une broche de cameo là- dessus." Her sister reached into the leather satchel and pulled out the pretty black choker with a cameo brooch on it. Belle took it from her and put it on, then repeated, "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know how to get onto platform nine and three quarters?" The woman smiled.
"Of course, dear." She replied. "Hogwarts too? These boys are going. Shouldn't you be going to Beauxbatons, though? I thought you might be French, and Beauxbatons is a more reasonable school to go to, you know, being in the country." Mirabelle looked at the boys while telling Mrs. Weasley about the special circumstances. There was a tall, lanky one, two shorter, stouter boys who appeared to be twins, and another gangly one, only an inch shorter than the twins. They all had bright orange hair, like their mother. Then there was another, with wild chocolate hair and sparkling emerald eyes. Her eyes widened when she saw the last one. His small frame and delicate but boyish face was adorable, but made even more endearing by his round glasses. He smiled at her shyly.
"Hi." He said.
"H-Hello." Mirabelle returned, startled. "My name is Mirabelle. It's a pleasure to meet you.?" She trailed off as though to inquire his name.
"Harry Potter." The boy supplied. The other boys looked at him, mouths gaping.
"You're Harry Potter?!" they yelped. Harry nodded.
On the train, Ron Weasley, the shortest one, came to sit with Harry and Mirabelle. Soon the three became close friends, and Hermione Granger joined them that October. They even remained friends when Mirabelle turned out to be a parseltongue (along with Harry) and it was found that she was heir to Salazar Slytherin. They stuck through all the strange mishaps and adventures, quarreling as was natural, but remaining close as ever. Odd how these things turn out.
How's that for a first chapter? I know it's a little short, but it's just the beginning. Oh yes..You don't know what Mirabelle looks like yet, do you? Well, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. In which they are attending sixth year.
Notes 'n stuffs: I will finish this. I promised myself. I have about a bazillion stories that I haven't finished yet, but I have been working on them a little bit sporadically. That is to say, about a paragraph per story, per 4-6 months. Pathetic? Of course. Oh yeah. About the French I've used: if you want to know what it means, just go to http://translator.dictionary.com/text.html. That's where I got it. It's really easy.
Mirabelle Après
Once there was a girl named Mirabelle. She lived in a tiny, cozy cottage in the woods of the French countryside with her younger sister and baby brother. The little house was covered in ivy, and had moss all over it's roof, so it looked like it had just popped out of the ground, pretty and white underneath. Most of the time, you could find Mirabelle in the front of the house, feeding wild deer or tending to her siblings. When they could, they tried to go to school, but of late, the school had started to refuse them, as they weren't registered. So they stayed at home, doing laundry, cutting wood, and basically just taking care of the home. Since their parents had died, Mirabelle took full responsibility; she was like a new mother to Melodie and the yet infantile Olivier.
Now, being only half-past-ten, the girl was accomplishing quite a feat by taking care of a six year old and ten month old. Sometimes Belle, as her sister called her, told fortunes using her mother's Tarot, her own crystal ball, or simply reading palms. Her customers were thrilled with the uncanny accuracy of the young girl's readings, but spiteful little children who came with their parents or older brothers or sisters spread nasty rumors. While it was true that Mirabelle was a witch, having been raised in an actively practicing family, and it was true she performed rituals and spells, and had herbs hanging from ceilings, it was not true that she did evil of any sort. One boy, jealous of Mirabelle's talent, told everyone he knew that he had seen her talking to the devil in her fireplace. Of course, anyone who really knew Belle saw right through the lie, but others shunned her. This hurt her a bit, but she carried on, using her profits to buy food and other necessities.
As the months passed, Melodie fell ill. Any remedy Mirabelle knew could not cure her sickness, and the small family had no money to buy medicine with. Melodie would surely die if they could not get help. Then, on May 13, Mirabelle's birthday, a letter arrived. It was strange, really. A large, tawny brown owl delivered it. It contained a letter, and a glass vial with pretty green liquid inside it. The letter invited her to a school in England called Hogwarts. Now, we all know that Beauxbatons is the magical school of France, but because the school wouldn't provide accommodations for the two younger children, and Mirabelle would never allow herself to be separated from them, Hogwarts accepted her instead. They would take care of Melodie and Olivier while Belle was at school, but it was back home for all three when summer came. Of course, Mirabelle was going to go, but what about Melodie? And where would she get her supplies? Luckily, the school knew all about her situation, and not only sent her school things, train ticket, and a Portkey to King's Cross, but a neat little necklace that would allow her to speak and understand English!
On September first, at nine o' clock in the morning Mirabelle and her two siblings were whisked away to King's Cross. Where they had now idea how to get onto the platform. Spotting a kind-looking woman with a ton of children and flaming red hair, she approached and said, "Excusez-moi, ma'am. Savez-vous obtenir sur des quarts de la plateforme neuf et trois?" Upon sighting the blank look on the woman's face, Mirabelle suddenly smacked herself on the forehead. "Merde d'Oh! J'ai oublié le collier!" She turned to Melodie and said, "Melodie, font sortir le collier de mon sac. C'est le choker noir de sild avec une broche de cameo là- dessus." Her sister reached into the leather satchel and pulled out the pretty black choker with a cameo brooch on it. Belle took it from her and put it on, then repeated, "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know how to get onto platform nine and three quarters?" The woman smiled.
"Of course, dear." She replied. "Hogwarts too? These boys are going. Shouldn't you be going to Beauxbatons, though? I thought you might be French, and Beauxbatons is a more reasonable school to go to, you know, being in the country." Mirabelle looked at the boys while telling Mrs. Weasley about the special circumstances. There was a tall, lanky one, two shorter, stouter boys who appeared to be twins, and another gangly one, only an inch shorter than the twins. They all had bright orange hair, like their mother. Then there was another, with wild chocolate hair and sparkling emerald eyes. Her eyes widened when she saw the last one. His small frame and delicate but boyish face was adorable, but made even more endearing by his round glasses. He smiled at her shyly.
"Hi." He said.
"H-Hello." Mirabelle returned, startled. "My name is Mirabelle. It's a pleasure to meet you.?" She trailed off as though to inquire his name.
"Harry Potter." The boy supplied. The other boys looked at him, mouths gaping.
"You're Harry Potter?!" they yelped. Harry nodded.
On the train, Ron Weasley, the shortest one, came to sit with Harry and Mirabelle. Soon the three became close friends, and Hermione Granger joined them that October. They even remained friends when Mirabelle turned out to be a parseltongue (along with Harry) and it was found that she was heir to Salazar Slytherin. They stuck through all the strange mishaps and adventures, quarreling as was natural, but remaining close as ever. Odd how these things turn out.
How's that for a first chapter? I know it's a little short, but it's just the beginning. Oh yes..You don't know what Mirabelle looks like yet, do you? Well, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. In which they are attending sixth year.