August 25th, 1994.
As the early sunlight spread across the city, the air felt warm and fresh, hinting at the promise of a beautiful day ahead. The garden in front of me was bursting with life, buzzing and alive in every corner.
I walked along the curving stone path, the gentle crunch of gravel under my sandals creating a calming rhythm. The grass, kissed by morning dew, sparkled like diamonds, and the scent of blooming flowers wrapped me in a gentle hug. The colors were vibrant – fiery reds, cheerful yellows, and calm purples painted the scene in a delicate blend.
A wrought-iron table sat in the shade of the ancient oak tree as old as the Victorian house itself. Its sprawling branches provided a welcome escape from the sun's warmth. I settled onto a seat, feeling the coolness of its metal against my skin. Leaves were rustling softly, accompanied by the distant sounds of the city, creating a soothing blend of nature and urban life.
The air smelled of freshly cut grass, with a twist of heat, the rare warm breeze coming through the bushes ever so often. The thick bushes gave the house the very needed privacy of a wizard home, even without the countless charms that prevented muggles from peeking into our garden. I poured myself a cold glass of iced tea.
Suddenly, a loud crack burst my bubble of thought and made me drop the heavy glass, spilling the tea all over my dress and the newspaper that was waiting for me next to the pitcher.
''Ugh!'', I groaned at the three figures appearing in front of me.
''Good morning miss!'', said an unfamiliar small house elf, quickly picking up the glass and putting it back on the table, tea still dripping from it onto my dress.
''Oh Merlin, I missed you so much!'', cried Amelia throwing herself at me in a crushing hug. Her tanned skin was glowing warmly, she seemed to have absorbed the sun's embrace during her trip. The sun-kissed highlights in her hair were shimmering in the morning light. Around her wrist, a dainty bracelet of seashells and beach stones added a touch of coastal charm to her otherwise vibrant ensemble.
I stood up, untangling myself from her. Graham stood tall and proud, with a Cheshire smirk on his face. His complexion contrasted his usually sleek dark hair, giving him the distinct rugged charm of someone who would probably catch on fire if left in the sun for too long. Today however it was as if he had just emerged from a day spent in mountains, his hair tousled by the wind and a healthy flush on his cheeks.
''You could have knocked you know. Also, you're early.'', I sounded like my father if someone were to mention England being crushed by Romania in the Quidditch World Cup, rather unhappy.
''That would be no fun. Plus, the muggles would have seen us had we apparated in front of the house.'', he ruffled my hair and proceeded to grab a biscuit from a tray on the table. ''Why are you just standing there? We have to go!''
''He's been acting like this since last week. Boys.'', Amelia rolled her eyes at him.
''Come on, chop-chop ladies! The match of the year is waiting! Imagine the booze the Irish will bring...'' he seemed to have gotten lost in the thought.
''Speaking of boys, where is that handsome little brother of yours?'', Amelia asked sneaking a look at the window of Theo's room.
''Stop that! He's in Cornwall with Father, I highly doubt he would raise his nose out of his books to watch Quidditch with you two. Ugh, now I need to change.''
It was a half-truth. I didn't completely understand why my brother preferred our stately or rather country home to the London house. It was colder, darker, and always felt more formal, probably because of the sheer size of it. But Theo was under our father's watchful eye this whole summer even more so than he usually would be, studying old magical tomes and having weekly tea with the Malfoys. I missed them both, but not enough to put a hold on my summer of hedonism.
Graham shrugged in agreement and Amelia was already dragging me towards the open double doors of the house.
''I always forget how cliché you Notts are.'', Amelia said, looking at the house, its imposing facade stood as a testament to history and luxury. The sun cast a warm, golden glow upon the elegant brickwork, giving the building an inviting aura. Tall, proud windows lined the back, each adorned with curtains that seemed to dance with the gentle breeze. They were like portals to another world, offering a glimpse into the life of opulence and sophistication that resided within. The windows were adorned with intricate ironwork, showcasing the craftsmanship that had gone into every detail of the architectural masterpiece.
My mother decorated it a long time ago before I was even born. She was a French high society lady and a vision of grace and refinement that lingered in my memory like a delicate perfume. In the scarce memories I still recalled, her presence was elegant, each movement and gesture executed with the poise of someone accustomed to the grandeur of aristocratic life. The house had many floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with brightly colored books, some of which were even written by muggles - classics she told me once and insisted that if I wanted to learn the true meaning of the arts I had to be thorough. I was six at that time so it all sounded like gibberish to me anyway, the only reason I truly remembered it was because she was gone in just a few days. They felt like gaps in my memory – could those have been the last words my mother said to me? I had no recollections of her brief illness.
Later, my father recounted numerous stories about her. He described how she openly displayed her disdain for the British, a fact that puzzled me considering she had married one of the most traditional English wizards imaginable. I could envision her, unapologetically French at heart, wearing intricately woven robes that spoke of her status. Her jewelry, a display of pearls and diamonds that caught the candlelight, mirroring the social circles she moved in. Each piece holding a story, reflecting her lineage and connections. Even in her choice of accessories, she mastered the subtle art of diplomacy.
I could picture her scolding the wives of her husband's friends during dinner parties. She would say sharp things about her favorite muggle jeweler or pastry chef that even my father wouldn't agree with. He enjoyed talking about her, it was like he was bringing her back to life by sharing memories with us.
''Oh excuse me, Miss Summer-villa-in-France. How's that been by the way?'', I replied, walking up the spiraling marble staircase toward my bedroom. Amelia's family practically invented the notion of being stinking rich and snobby, but in swooped Amelia Rosier with her own brand of rebellion – a mix of vulgar language, inappropriate clothing, and men - none of whom she actually slept with, all of it an intricate show meant to upset her family.
''Awful, honestly,'' she replied. ''Had to be with my parents the whole time. I met some boys at the beach but my daft brothers spooked them. Pigs. What did you do all summer?''
''Don't know, I listened to music I guess? Read too.''
''You've spent two months listening to music and reading?'', she raised an eyebrow.
''Hush there, I went old a little.''
''More than a little, I'd say.'', Amelia threw me a copy of Witch Weekly that was conveniently in her bag.
She came prepared.
It wasn't anything I haven't already seen, the parties that our mutual friend Maggie took me to were documented in excruciating detail for the past eight magazine issues. I was never mentioned by name, but you could pick me out in most pictures.
''Come on, you were invited too...'' I nudged her and she rolled her eyes.
Her parents were less lenient than my father. Or more observant.
We laughed and recalled our escapades. We turned the bedroom into a mess of clothes, throwing them around without care. Suddenly, the floor was covered in a colorful pile of clothes, and we couldn't stop talking. This was the first time we had spent more than a week apart since we were eleven.
''Does this say skank or down to party?'' I showed her a skirt.
''Skank. Besides we're going to a quidditch match so wear jeans. Maybe a vest too, the muggles think those are very fashionable.''
Although Amelia considered herself to be a genius when it came to muggle fashion, the three of us didn't fit in well on the streets of London. The stores we moved by showcased the charm of the city – record stores, vintage boutiques, and neon-lit arcades. The air smelled like street food mixed with smells of coffee and heat rising from the gravel. We looked mismatched, Graham was wearing plaid formal pants and a bright yellow raincoat, and Amelia had on red rubber boots with purple overalls, it hadn't rained at that point in weeks. I decided against the vest and wore jeans with a black spaghetti strap shirt instead, paired with a silvery house robe that I didn't tie up.
We reached the meeting point, a narrow passage bordered by aged brick buildings, which seemed like a hidden secret amid the city's busy commotion. Just one glance at the man outfitted in scuba gear was enough for us to realize that we didn't look too bad ourselves. We took the port key and were suddenly dropped in what looked like the middle of nowhere.
''Good morning! May I have your names, please?'', a wizard wearing a kilt with a poncho appeared in front of us, another man dressed just as colorfully standing slightly behind him.
He directed us to proceed to the second field and seek out a certain Mr. Payne. At first, we couldn't see him but after noticing a man who was obviously a muggle, strangely looking around at wizards and tents, we knew we were at the right place.
''Mr. Payne?''
''Ah yes, present!'' the muggle answered me with hazy eyes.
''Oh...um...what name did your father put us under?'', Graham whispered.
''One tent for Nott, booked last week I believe?'', I asked, eyeing the muggle suspiciously. Graham took over, he looked very curious about the man and continued to talk with him, giving him the money for the night in the end.
''Come on!'', Graham yelled at us and marched past Mr. Payne.
The match was a glorious event. With a good-looking Bulgarian player and funny leprechauns, it was easy to have fun watching the game even for those who weren't sports fans. But the party after the match was even better. Maggie got us invited to the private tent of the Irish team and it took Amelia approximately five seconds to find a new guy to obsess over. Meanwhile, I found out that Graham was right about the drinks – they were really good.
We danced and sang with them for a while, but after accidentally tripping over a chair and falling flat on my arse, I figured it was time to leave, preferably without much notice – an Irish exit. It was completely dark outside, and I quietly slipped away from my friends, setting off toward our tent. It was a bit far, but I enjoyed the cool breeze in my hair and on my flushed cheeks. I had taken my shoes off, so I sort of walked and danced at the same time, moving along the grassy path that led past the shiny structures – some of them hardly resembled actual tents.
The breeze of the night went well with the lingering tingle from all the whiskey I drank. So, when I heard shouts, they sounded like cheers of victory. It took me a few moments, but when I looked around and saw a crowd of people running to my left, extinguishing campfires as they hurried in a frenzy toward the forest, I quickly slipped my shoes back on and tried to follow the same direction they were all running to.
It all very quickly turned to panic and I was still too out of it to figure out what was happening. In the very back of the field I saw hooded figures with masked faces in a tight group yelling and laughing while firing spells everywhere. It took me another moment to even notice the levitating shapes above them.
Four muggles, upside down, dangling in the air above the masked figures like sacks of potatoes. I watched them awkwardly for a moment, and a woman pushed me so hard that I hit the ground, landing painfully on my ankle.
''Shit!'', I let out a curse, my eyes instantly filling with tears due to the pain. People were still chaotically rushing around me, so I attempted to stand up but was met with immediate failure.
''Merlin, take my hand.'', a boy ran towards me and helped me up. I didn't know him, but there was something about his face that felt familiar. His companion resembled him a lot, just a bit taller and leaner, with a longer face too.
''Thank you.'', I mumbled while holding on to him for balance.
''Can you walk? We should get out of here.'', I attempted to take a few steps, and with his assistance, we slowly made our way towards the forest. After a while, we came to a halt. The taller boy, whom the other one referred to as Will, surveyed our surroundings and then removed his jacket.
''Here, sit on this. I think we'll have to wait a bit for some help.'', he turned to the other boy and said, ''I'll look for Dad and the others, stay with her.''
I wasn't sure if he was referring to me or his jacket, so I shifted my weight awkwardly, trying to avoid damaging it against the tree roots beneath me.
The boy nodded and watched him run off. He took his wand out and lit the area around us.
''I think we're safe, for now at least...''
''Thank you, I mean really, thank you.'', I interrupted him, avoiding looking up so that he wouldn't notice that I was crying. I preferred to see myself as someone who would remain calm in tough situations, but the pain in my ankle was worse than I had anticipated. Now, my face and eyes were both burning with heat and tears.
''Come on, we couldn't just leave you there.'', he shrugged, ''I think I can help, but hold my hand it may hurt a bit.''
He whispered a spell, using his wand to tap my ankle. With a hushed yet sharp crack, it felt like the pain had vanished. I clenched my teeth, holding onto his hand more tightly, and I could taste blood in my mouth. After a moment, my ankle started to feel numb.
''Why... where did you learn that?'', I felt a bit foolish for asking, yet I figured it was better than enduring the uncomfortable silence we would've shared otherwise.
''Work,'', he said and looked at my lips. ''Damn, you've cut your lip. Want me to...?"
''Oh no, it's quite alright. I'll live.'', I smiled and he looked amused. I'd rather not have a stranger wave his wand around fixing something on my face. ''What do we do now? I don't know how to find...''
''FOR FUCKS SAKE, YOU HAD US WORRIED SICK!'', Amelia suddenly appeared from the shadows with a crack, running towards me with Graham at her side and yet another house elf that I didn't recognize.
''Oh Merlin you're alright! We've looked everywhere for you! We almost sent word to your father!'', Graham crushed me with a hug.
''I'm okay, it's all good. What happened to you? Who's this?''
''Doesn't matter, we ran out with the Irish not five minutes after you tripped out of that tent. Oh, and I almost got laid! Fucking angry mob! I'm cursed, I swear, cursed!''
Graham rolled his eyes, it was obvious to both of us that Amelia wasn't doing well under pressure either. He gestured with his hand to let her be as she circled us poking the air with her lit-up wand.
''And who would you be, good sir?'', Graham looked at the boy and then at me, waiting for an answer.
''I fell, he helped me,'' I didn't know his name, and now it just seemed rude to ask.
Will was running towards us, prompting Amelia to hide behind Graham.
''I found Dad, let's move.'', he said to the other boy.
''Yes, of course.'', the boy replied looking at me, I assumed he was waiting for the three of us to follow.
''We'll be fine from here. Let us at least apparate you wherever you need to go, it's safer.'', I said hoping to repay them for their help.
''Nah, we'll be fine. Thanks.'', said Will, picking his jacket up in a rush.
''Thanks again.''
''Don't sweat it. See ya 'round?'', the unnamed boy smirked and ran into the dark forest.
He was handsome.
''See ya 'round?'', Amelia mocked before we dissapparated. ''He was nice looking. Oh and by the way, you have blood on your teeth.''
Perhaps I should have stayed in the dark and dangerous forest, forever.