1201 Pemberton Circle
In the two-story, blue house on Pemberton Circle, a light turned on and a slight shadow moved around almost in a frantic. The time was 4:47 in the morning, just the time when the moon has set, the stars have lifted, yet the sun has yet to make an appearance, so the sky is jet black with nothing…unless you really look and you know what you're looking for. The ministry was still strict on broomriding, but witches and wizards were now allowed to do it at night as long as they knew how to avoid humans.
Miranda had had everything packed and ready since a week ago, but she had awoken this morning with the realization that she had completely forgotten to read the last chapter of Witches and Wizards: Contemporary Problems. Professor Nobhil had been so sure she was ready for this intensive course, and now she was going to disappoint him. With that thought, she had jerked awake, opened her trunk, and dug through all her nicely clothes until she reached her books at the bottom. She pushed the old, yellowish, torn Quidditch for the Modern Girl aside and let out a sigh of relief when she had the right book in her lap and opened to the very last chapter: "Gender Discrimination in the Work Force."
She was not even half way through the chapter when there was a knock on her door.
"Honey, are you awake?"
Without taking her eyes off the book, she called out for her mother to come in.
"What on earth are you doing?"
Miranda barely heard what her mother said.
"You're leaving in two hours," Miranda could hear her picking u p the clothes on the floor, placing them back in the chest.
"I just need another fifteen minutes to finish this," Miranda said quickly.
Her mother gave her a quick hug. "Sorry I can't go see you off darling. Very sorry. It's not like I'm dying to go to the Ministry Coalition Meeting anyway, but you know with the Quidditch World Cup coming up—."
"Fine, fine, fine," Miranda rushed the words out, turning the page of her book.
"Your father will see you off," her mother let her go and walked towards the door. "And, Miranda, no more trouble with that Malfoy girl, do you hear me? Just walk away—Miranda? Miranda!"
"Yes!" Miranda answered with exasperation. An image of skinny, blonde, blue-eyed Alicia Malfoy popped into her head, and just the smallest annoyance boiled in her. "I heard you, okay?"
"You don't want to waste away your last year at Hogwarts fighting with a girl over stupid things."
"I said I heard you," Miranda repeated. Now she needed twenty more minutes. What will Professor Nobhil think of her? Just the thought worried Miranda enough that the idea of not going to Hogwarts popped into her head. It was immediately cast aside.
"All right then," her mother's voice came out strangely, a note of worry in it. "Good luck with quidditch and that contemporary class you're taking, and I'll see you during graduation."
Miranda finally looked up but her mother was already gone, leaving the door ajar. She shrugged and turned back to the book, eyes dashing back and forth across the page. They had already said their good-byes last night at dinner since her mother was leaving early to go prepare for an "important" ministry meeting. Miranda didn't understand why the ministry was taking such precautions. The only World Cup that had gone terribly wrong had happened when her parents were still going to Hogwarts, and that was more than twenty years ago. From what Miranda had learned in history class, Voldemort's followers returned and created havoc by putting a skull with a snake curling through its mouth in the sky: the mark of the dark lord.
It took her eleven minutes to finish the chapter. It took her a while to get everything tidied up again. When she finally went downstairs, her father was sitting at the kitchen table with the sport section of the Wizard's Sports, a weekly magazine, in his face. From what Miranda could see, there was a moving picture of Peter Salsbury, England's best chaser in years, flying across a crowd of people to catch the small golden ball with white wings that Miranda herself knew to be quite irritatingly fast. Her little brother James sat in the chair next to her father and stuck his tongue out at her when she walked in. James had been a surprise that neither of her parents had expected. A surprise that had become an annoying eight-year-old.
She sat down opposite him and poured out some cereal for herself. "How's England doing, Dad?"
The magazine finally came down and her father grinned at her, a wide grin that her mother had insisted finally won her over. The corners of his brown eyes cringed behind his round glasses. "That last win put England in third place. Another win is all we need. If we don't go to the World Cup, I think Ron will absolutely go crazy."
"I'm meeting Daniel Weasley today," James announced, milk dripping from his mouth.
Daniel Weasley was the youngest of Ron Weasley's three sons. William, the oldest, was Miranda's best friend and the new prefect of Gryffindor Tower, and Kevin was a second-year at Hogwart's. The Weasleys seemed to have run out of girls in their family. Even Bill and Fleur had all boys. For sure it seemed as though Ginny would be the last one.
As James went on about going with dad to Diagon Alley to meet Ron and Daniel, Miranda shoved food down her throat as fast as she was capable of doing. Coughing and hitting her chest in order to push the food down, she looked over at the kitchen clock and dropped her spoon. Milk splashed across the table.
"Miranda!" James cried out, wiping the liquid from his arm.
She didn't hear. Blinking hard, she looked again, just to make sure she was really seeing the time. A quarter to 7:30. A quarter to 7:30!
Miranda Potter was late for her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.