Ivy Potter, a fifth year Hufflepuff is starting her new year at Hogwarts. Everything is normal when she re-encounters someone from her past. And he changes everything from that moment on...From that moment on everything feels like a dream to Ivy. Th...
My eyes sprang open to meet the face of a grinning boy with ruffled black hair and round silver glasses. "Get up! Get up!" My thoughts started to come back together after the rude awakening. It's Christmas! I instantly sat up and jumped out of bed.
"Race you!" The boy sprinted across the girls room, hurled the door open, and ran out of view.
The girl was, Ivy. Her brother, James Potter, was often looking for competition, particularly easy competition, from his younger sister. He would frequent make everything a game, even if it not necessary. James would do this because he knew he would win, being older. That didn't stop him from bragging every chance he got.
Ivy kindly put up with her brother, and would let him win just because. Ivy was a delightful, good-natured, sympathetic girl. She always has been. She would always look out for others and that's what made her the most happy.
James had finished half of his first year at Hogwarts, where Ivy would go to in two years. James had come home for the holidays and excitedly told Ivy and her family about all the new friends he'd made. His friends consisted of Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black.
As soon as James told his family about his friends Euphemia had wanted to meet them. She asked James to invite them to their Christmas party that they had every year. James had been thrilled that his friends would come over, he was distressed though by the Black family.
He had heard stories about the Blacks, and although he knew Sirius was nice he was apprehensive towards the other Blacks. There were rumors going around that the family were Death Eaters. James tried to push his worried thoughts away but they always crept up.
Their loud footsteps echoed through the entire mansion. James was well downstairs by the time Ivy caught up to him.
"Wait, wait. Don't open up any presents yet, you two. You need some breakfast in you." She waved them over to the table. It was full of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and muffins.
"Thanks mom!" Ivy said as her mom came over to kiss her on the cheek. "Yeah, thanks mom!" James said with him mouth full of food. Mom then came over to hug him.
Their Dad, Fleamont sat at the table with a hot coffee reading the Daily Profit. He looked up from the paper and smiled at his cute kids, "Happy Christmas, guys." "Happy Christmas dad!" They both replied grinning from ear to ear.
They took a few more bites scoffing down their food, then abruptly ran to the floor to sit next to the Christmas tree.
"Oh, Monty, get the camera!" Euphemia said eagerly, wanting to take a picture at her beautiful kids.
Fleamont hurried back quickly, camera in hand and took the picture. "I'm keeping that forever." Euphemia squealed. "Mia, should I put this in the album?" "Yes, good idea!"
Since as long as Ivy could remember her mom would always have a new photo album every year marking achievements and memories of that year. Euphemia would want every moment to last a lifetime. She was already sad that James was going to Hogwarts and soon Ivy would join him. Until then, she took her pictures savoring the special moments with her kids.
"Can we open them now?" James asked eagerly, squirming around. His eyes longed at the gift in front of him.
"Yes, you may open them now!" Fleamont replied.
As soon as James heard the word 'Yes' he grabbed the nearest present with his name and ripped the wrapping paper off in seconds.
"Aw, cool!" He admired the present, it was the newest broom. It's dark oak wood was smooth to the touch. It shinned beneath the light of the Christmas tree.
"Thank you dad!" James stood up and wrapped his arms around his father. "You'd like to take it for a spin?" "Would I?" The two got up and ran out the back door to the big luscious backyard. Out of the widow came the sight of James flying around and him screaming with excitement.
Euphemia smiled to herself happily. "Do you want to open your presents Ivy?" "Oh, sure!" Euphemia got on the ground to sit next to her daughter. Ivy was very particular when she opened her present she would try to keep as much of the wrapping paper as possible.
Once Ivy got through the paper and into the box she gasped. "Oh, mum! It's beautiful! I love it thank you!" She opened the big brown box and inside of it was a dark blue leather box with a dazzling golden necklace with a gold rose.
"I knew you'd like it!" Euphemia squeezed her daughter and kissed her on the head. "Let me put it on you!"
Ivy turned her back toward her mom and moved her hair out of the way. She saw the gold come into view and the necklace drop onto her chest. "All done. Do you want to look in the mirror?" "Yes!" They both walked over the bathroom and looked into the mirror.
Euphemia hugged Ivy once more, happy she could bring joy to her life. Ivy was still stunned at the remarkable piece of jewelry. I never want to take this off.
"Help me in the kitchen, we have to make lots of food for tonight."
***
They day went by as James and Fleamont awed over the broom and Ivy helped her mom cook. "We should start to get ready!" Euphemia set down her cooking supplies and the girls headed upstairs.
Seeing as Ivy was only nine, Euphemia helped her with what to wear, and how to do her hair.
Ivy never liked dresses, so she wore a pretty pink sweater and jeans with her hair put up cute. Ivy also had her rose necklace on.
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After Euphemia was done dressing Ivy she went to get herself ready. She wore a long blue dress with silver heals. The girls walked down stairs together into the kitchen.
"You look so stunning my darlings!" Fleamont beamed up at his girls. He and James were all sweaty from outside.
Fleamont stood up and kissed Euphemia which Ivy and James fake vomited to. "Ok, ok I don't want you to get me all sweaty!" Euphemia laughed push Fleamont playfully.
"Come on James, we ought to get ready too!"
James groaned not wanted to wear a suit, but complied.
