Chapter Text
I can't remember much about that night, for obvious reasons.
But I have memories of warm brown eyes staring at me, and big arms holding me up.
I also remember a sweet lady's face and playing with her hair while she took me into her house.
It was raining outside; my clothes were wet and I was sneezing.
The woman who found me, Molly, had a long conversation with her husband.
I remember hearing something along the lines of "where would we even take her?", and the man didn't respond.
Finally, about two hours later, when I was already dry and enjoying homemade cookies and a hot sippy cup of tea, they came to an agreement, and the woman picked me up on her arms again, muttering words that I will always keep in my heart:
"Welcome to our Family."
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"Charlotte, wake up! Mum's calling!" I hear a high pitched voice saying and I groan, rolling my eyes and covering my head with the blankets. "Charlotte, I'm serious!" The voice repeats and I sigh, sitting up on the bed, my curly mess of a hair falling in black waves on my shoulders. Ginny turns red as her hair at the sight of it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." She says and then rushes to her wardrobe, starting to get dressed. "But mum's back with our school supplies!" She smiles widely at me and I chuckle at her excitement.
I shake my head as I get up and open the window, smelling the fresh air and looking at the grass outside. Oh, Merlin, how I love this place. I remember playing tag with my brothers when I was younger after grandma was done teaching Ginny and me how to knit. We do this every year, even if I am extremely less gifted in the athletics department.
It is my understatement that Ginny intends to try out for the Quidditch team in her Third or Fourth year, and I have no doubt she'll get in as she is a very talented athlete, and I wonder for the 100th time this week what my future at Hogwarts holds. Of course, first I'd have to survive my First and Second years, which seems unlikely given Ron, couldn't stop telling us about how he met Harry Potter, or, as the papers have been calling him, The Boy who Lived (which, in my opinion, might be the stupidest title ever), and how they almost died during a terrifying Chess Match. Knowing Ron, he was probably exaggerating the details, but, the thing is, Voldemort (or, as we were all taught to say, 'You Know Who', also a dumb title), intended to return from his ashes, and Ron helped Harry end him. So much for a normal education.
I look around the room and spot Ginny almost ready, and that means I have to get ready myself or Mother will ramble about how I shouldn't be so late and that I should behave more like Ginny and yet another lecture would begin. With that thought I get up, rushing to my wardrobe, looking at the small mirror on the door and taking my comb.
The main thing that could differ me from Ginny or the rest of the family (apart from the shade of my skin), is the absolute mess of curls my hair wakes up as, meaning I need to take longer to brush it or it will look like a lion's mane. Mum always says I have beautiful hair, even if it takes a village to care for it, but she can never find a unique word to describe it since its colour is always changing. Perks of being a Metamorphmagus.
As I finally finish with my hair, Ginny sits on her bed, and I can tell she's impatient by the way she plays with her shoelaces. "You can get going if you want to, I'll be down in a minute." I tell her, but she shakes her head.
"I want to open my supplies at the same time as you." She says with a smile and I smile back, knowing she wishes to share these moments with me makes me feel more connected to my sister, which is always nice.
Three minutes and a lot of comments from Ginny later, I'm finally dressed up, and Ginny and I rush downstairs. Sometimes, mum complains about how don't I try Ginny's more "comfortable" outfits, but it always ends up the same way: I'm not the biggest fan of her clothes and I very much don't like how they look on me. Ginny and I grew up in a house full of boys, and yet she seems to be the only one affected by their style choice and the wonder of secondhand clothing. Not that my clothes are new, they're mostly passed down from grandma or mum's sisters, making my wardrobe mostly comprised of skirts and dresses.
As we reach the living room, I can smell the scent of mum's cooking, and I can hear the loud noise coming from the kitchen, my eyes opening widely as I hear a familiar dry, low voice.
"Bill? Bill!" I yell as I see him, rushing through the kitchen and jumping into his open arms.
When it comes to my siblings, and you can maybe count my cousins in that equation as well, Bill happens to be the one I am closest with, apart from Ginny. In fact, I believe him to be one of the people who understand me the most. I think it's because he always felt like an outsider as well, being the more quiet and "lowkey" member of the family, if you don't count his style.
"Hey, look who's all grown up." He chuckles, messing up my hair. I roll my eyes.
"I just spent forever taming the mane, mate." I say, trying to put my mess of a hair back together, he grins.
"So, are you nervous?" He asks and I shrug.
"Absolutely, but I'm working on it." I smile. "It's hard when you factor in the 'you can die' thing." I chuckle.
"That's not a very Gryffindor attitude." He smirks and I blush.
"Shut up." I shake my head. As if I needed to be reminded of that.
I ignore the increase of my heartbeat as my brain considers the possibility of ending out outside Gryffindor, and sit down near Ginny as mum hands us two big bags, choosing to focus on this nice moment instead.
"1..." Ginny starts.
"2..." I follow.
"3!" We yell.
Then, we both open the bags, smiling at what we find inside. Ginny suddenly wraps her arms around me, the excitement of a child in her eyes. "We're going to Hogwarts!" She smiles. "We're finally going to Hogwarts!" She says and I nod, my throat suddenly feeling dry.
We're going to Hogwarts.