Chapter 1 : 'ogwarts
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It was that time of year again. August had ended, September was upon us. Time to go off to “‘ogwarts,” as my mother called it. She always left off the “H” even though she barely had a French accent anymore. It was her way of showing her disapproval of the school. ‘ogwarts was nowhere near as good as Beauxbatons.
When I was eleven, she had argued furiously with my father about the matter. “Beauxbatons is zee best school,” she had said, letting her French accent slip back, as it often did when she was angry.
My father hadn’t been angry with her, he never was, merely adamant. I was going to Hogwarts, whether Fleur Delacour Weasley wanted it or not.
My mother hadn’t come to see me off at Platform 9 ¾ until I was a Third Year. That was when my sister, Dominique was a First Year. Mother only came to see Dom, her favorite child, off. And she’d come, complaining all the time, every year since. Now, I was in my Sixth Year at Hogwarts and Dom was in her Fourth. My little brother Louis was only a Second Year.
“Give your Mum a kiss,” Dad said to Louis.
Louis pouted but walked over to Mum. “Bye, Mum,” he said quickly, giving her a peck on the cheek.
Mum smiled, “Au Revoir, Louis.”
“Bye, Dad,” Louis nodded at my father.
My father nodded idly glancing around the crowded platform. “Where are they?” He asked. “I don’t see Ron anywhere.”
“Maybe you haven’t spotted him,” Mum said, absently.
“I doubt that,” my sister Dom grinned, joining the group. “Uncle Ron isn’t exactly hard to miss.” It was true, my father’s younger brother was just as tall as he was, over six feet, and had the same bright red hair.
“Shouldn’t the train be leaving now?” Mum asked anxiously. She glanced around the crowd, which now consisted more of parents than of students. “Louis, get on the train, now, alright?” She ushered my brother towards a carriage before hurry back to make sure Dom was coming.
“Dominique!” Mum called. “You don’t want to miss the train.”
Dom shook her mane of silvery blonde hair and walked over towards Mum. “Don’t worry,” she drawled. “I’m never late. And if I was, the Hogwarts Express would wait for me.”
I watched a bit bitterly as Mum fussed over Dom, fixing her hair, asking her if she’d forgotten anything. When I was a Fourth Year, Mum hadn’t said much more than goodbye to me.
A warm hand descended onto my shoulder and I turned around to see my father standing behind me. “You’re getting so old, Victoire,” Dad said, with a gentle smile. “My little girl, all grown up.”
I managed a small smile. “I’m not that old, Dad. I still have two years to go before I graduate, that’s a long time.”
He shook his head, his long red and grey hair pulled back into a horsetail. “I know. It just seems like yesterday that you were a baby.”
“Dad,” I turned to face him, reaching up to put both my hands on his shoulders. “Stop being so nostalgic. You’re beginning to sound like Mum!”
That earned me a wince. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. “How a good year, love.” He gave me a quick kiss on the head and pushed me towards the train. “We’ll see you at Christmas.”
I nodded, “Yeah, bye Dad.”
On the train, I quickly found the carriage where my best mate, Grace Michaels was sitting already. “Hullo, Grace,” I said a bit dejectedly.
Grace looked up from her magazine, the newest copy of Witch Weekly, and gave me a smile. “Hey Vicky. How’s things?”
I sighed and sat down in the compartment. “Usual I guess.”
Grace made a sympathetic noise, “Your Mum at it again?”
“Yeah. You should have heard her. ‘Oh, Dom, you won’t want to be late.’ ‘Oh, Dom, let me fix your hair.’ ‘Oh, Dom, need any more spending money?’ I don’t think she even said goodbye to me.”
Grace winced and shook her head, making her brown curls bounce. “Pity. At least your dad is a decent bloke.”
I laughed at that. Grace has always been a bit taken with Dad. She once told me that if he were about thirty years younger, she would have snatched him up for herself. Grace likes a bit of danger in her men. “Yeah, at least he is, at any rate.” I stared at out the window for a moment before remembering. “Oh! How’s Polly doing?” Grace’s younger sister Polly was a first year.
“Oh, she’s alright,” Grace waved a hand dismissively. “She only had two breakdowns this morning. I left as the second one started, but I know the first had something to do with being afraid that she would be in Slytherin.”
“Slytherin? Polly? Please!” Polly was the sweetest little girl, with Grace’s curls and a dimply, if a bit pudgy, face.
“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen.” Grace shook her head. “Honestly, though, I’m not sure if she’ll make it to Gryffindor.”
Me and my siblings, as well as Grace were all in Gryffindor. “Yeah?” I asked. “Why not? It’s in your family, right?”
“Well, both my parents were in it, but I don’t know about Polly. She’s a bit soft, if you know what I mean. Probably end up in Hufflepuff.” Grace sighed. “But there’s not much you can do about that, is there?”
“No,” I agreed and began to wind a strand of my hair round one of my fingers absently mindedly.
“Say,” Grace said after a minute, when the train began to lurch forward. “Where’s Meera gotten herself to?”
“Prefects, car, right?” I said. “She and Neel both. And Teddy too.” Meera and Neel Patil, twin sister and brother, were both our fellow Gryffindor Sixth years and happened to be prefects. Teddy Lupin, my sort of cousin was Head Boy.
“Bloody Prefects,” Grace muttered.
“You’re just jealous that you’re not one of them,” I pointed out.
Grace was saved from responding when the door to our compartment flew open and a couple of boys stood outside.
“Hey Weasley!” A boy called out. “Come sit with us, eh, love?”
I glanced at the group of boys, three of them, all wearing Ravenclaw colors. “No thanks,” I called, “I’m happy here.”
“Michaels can come too,” Evan Davies said with a grin.
“We’re fine here, aren’t we, Grace?” I said, giving a smile and a wave goodbye.
“Suit yourself,” Evan shrugged. “But my invitation remains open, love.”
I merely waved again, until he shut the compartment door tight and sauntered away. “Arrogant git,” I muttered.
“Hey hey,” Grace said. “Don’t be so dismissive Vicky. At least they asked you, right?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “But they’re probably going to go and ask my bloody sister now.” Not that I resented that at all.
“Well, you can’t blame them, can you?” The girl shook her head. “You’re a quarter veela, darling. That means that men have to like you.”
I sniffed. “Who cares about that? I still hold that I didn’t get any veela blood. Honestly, I think Dom stole my share.”
“Those sorts of things don’t work like that,” Grace said in a haughty voice. “It’s even, Vick. Anyways, you don’t see any boys asking me to come join them do you?”
“That doesn’t mean that you’re not pretty,” I said quickly. “Really, Grace, I wish that I looked like you.”
“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” Grace asked acerbically. “You, Victoire Weasley, are much, much prettier than I am.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not true.” My hair was a combination of my parents, not red, not blonde. More of a straw color, with bits of red. I had too many freckles on my face and certainly didn’t have the figure that my mother had.
“I’m not talking you, right now,” Grace declared and picked up her magazine.
I glanced around, wishing I had brought something to do, but I hadn’t been so lucky. I would just have to wait until Meera and Neel returned, or until Grace decided to talk to me again.
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