Many years later the room was no longer pink. The color had been changed to a soft blue, and any resemblance to a nursery was no more. A young girl was perched upon the bed with an air of tense excitement. Her eyes kept darting to the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:58 . . . 7:59 . . . 8:00. She sprang up as if shot, tearing down the hall to the master bedroom.
Her swift paced slowed abruptly as she reached the doorway, ending in a complete standstill. She held onto the doorframe, leaning precariously into the room. A quick glance told her it was empty. She cautiously entered the area, heading over to the nightstand. She rifled through the pile of papers, only to throw them down in disgust. Only old bills waiting to be paid. With a roll of her eyes, she angrily stormed out of the room and headed towards the kitchen.
Both of her parents were already present. Her father was pulling plates down from the upper cabinet while her mother finished cooking their eggs. Both turned around as she entered, Brooke quickly noticed the annoyed look in her daughter's eye. Amused, she turned back around, continuing to beat the yolk.
Harry got down their plates and set them on the table. The girl was already seated, and Harry pulled up the chair next to her. The two sat for a moment in uncomfortable silence, the girl's eyes occasionally darting up to assess her father's face. Finally, Harry spoke.
"You know, Anne, I'd really like to read the Prophet. Would you mind getting it for me?"
Anne paused a moment, staring at Harry in surprise, yet wasted no time reaching the front door. "Crap," she thought, "they didn't bring in the post?" Anne, a typically late riser, was used to having her parents perform this task for her. She had originally thought that their omission of its contents had been cruel and unusual punishment - withholding such information would be easily defined as this.
Anne stepped out onto the front porch, glancing around at the neighboring houses she knew contained her peers. She grinned - apparently they were far more prompt than she was. A noise attracted her attention and she turned around, focusing across the street. Another girl of about the same age stepped out, catching her gaze. Anne raised her hand in greeting, yet quickly picked up the mail and reentered the house. Today there was no time for such formalities.
She let the mail fall onto the table, narrowly missing her father's breakfast. Her parents watched, curious, as she rifled determinedly through the mail.
"Junk, junk, junk . . . aha!" she finally cried triumphantly, proudly holding up a beige envelope. Anne eagerly tore it open, scanning the contents with growing excitement.
"Mum, Dad, I'm going to Hogwarts!" she gleefully announced, waving the letter around with pride. From behind she was enveloped in her mother's hug, while Harry, always the proud father, picked up the letter and read it with pride. Anne, after her celebration, looked up at her father and smiled.
"By the way . . . happy birthday, Dad."
A/N – haha, last phrase total fluff! You'll just have to bear with me, it seemed like the perfect ending! Okay, of course it's a short chapter, but it seemed like the perfect place to end it. Touching moment, you know? Okay, next chapter is on its way now . . . seeing as how the first few are written, it should come fairly quickly.