Hi! I would love for any helpful suggestions to improve my writing!
Anyways this is about my character who is friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but doesn't get along with one of Ron's brothers. Like, they really hate each other, they can hardly be in the same room as each other.
And then he ends up liking her... but yeah, I've just basically told the whole story in a sentence. And it takes place in her 5th year.
Anyways, I hope you like this!


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, only my own.

Chapter One
Part One




I couldn't believe I was a witch. It was inconceivable. It was unrealistic. It didn't make sense at the time. I didn't know whether or not to believe the letter I had received just a week after my 11th birthday. Moments after I had ripped open the letter, my father picked up the envelope, uttered a small whimper in his throat and hastily snatched the letter out of my hands. Not before I had read the first sentence, though. My father had locked himself in his bedroom without saying a word, and I had assumed he had disposed of the letter, and so I didn't try to pester him about it.

My older sister took care of me while our father had his unexpected breakdown. She sent me to tears that night after yelling at me for upsetting father so. I had tried reassuring myself that it was only some sort of ludicrous joke, one that I didn't find amusing in any way. For the next few days, my sister and I had only seen our father at the crack of dawn and at every evening as we tended to our farm.

I lived on a small, sometimes a fastidious farm on the outskirts of Liverpool, England. I had gotten used to waking up early every morning, but I still can't say I am much of a morning person. My sister was only a year older than I, though in comparison, we looked almost nothing alike. My father and Kate both had light blonde hair, and they had eyes of bright blue, the color of the clear sky in daytime. I had just plain, brown eyes and dark hair. Both my father and Kate were rather tall, while, unfairly, I was handed the short gene. My father always told me I looked like my mother.

I couldn't get the piece of yellowed parchment with such neat emerald writing out of my head. It consumed my thoughts for an entire week, though no one mentioned it after my father had come out of his bedroom in a much better mood.

Naturally, I tried to talk to father about it, after I thought he was more calm, but before the words could even escape my mouth, he would take off in our pick up truck and be away for hours at a time. Something really freaked him out about this letter.

That's why I was scared when it came again, strapped to the leg of a large brown owl that had nearly pecked a crack in the glass of our kitchen window until I had no choice but to let it in. When this second letter came, I demanded an answer from father. I crept to his door one evening and rapped on the hard door twice with my knuckles, the unopened letter crumpling under the grip of my closed fist.

"Come in," sounded his deep voice from inside. I pushed the door open to see my father standing by the fireplace in which a fire was burning, his back toward me. He was flipping through a stack of photographs in his shaking hands.

A moment of silence passed, and with his body still facing the fire, he said softly, "I've always known this day would come."

I didn't know what he was talking about. "Father, that letter came again. This morning."

My father sighed sadly. "I know. They've been coming all month." He had finally turned to face me. The fire glazed in the grit behind him, highlighting the side of his face. The usual warm glint of his eyes was missing. Instead, they seemed rather lost. He walked stiffly to a table near an arm chair in the corner of his large room. A pile of yellowed envelopes with emerald green lettering lay on top.

"What?" I had said, outraged. "Why haven't I-" He wouldn't let me finish.

"Nikki. My dear Nicole." He picked up one of the letters that was still in an envelope. He laid down all but one of the photographs he had been holding on to. "You look so much like your mother." He stared down at the photograph, leaving me at a loss for words.

"Father," I said at last. "Who are the letters from?"

My father gave me the photograph. It was an old picture of a beautiful young woman with the same long, black hair that I had, and the same brown eyes. She was sitting on a swing, laughing in the colorful garden around her. My mother. It felt as if I had tightened my grip at all, the photograph would fall apart into dust before my eyes.

"Your mother was a witch." He said, deliberatly ignoring my question. "I figured you or Katherine might be one, too."

"What are you talking about?" I was starting to get scared. My father was staring at me. I didn't think I heard him correctly. How could my mother be a witch?

"I didn't know about her kind until I had asked her to marry me. I must admit, I was a little frightened," he sighed heavily, and lifted a callused hand to rub his tired eyes. "But I loved her so much." The sight of him nearly brought me to tears. I did my best to contain myself. My father rushed foward and took me in his arms.

"You're magic, Nikki. It's in your blood, as it was in your mothers."

My father sounded insane to me. I stood there, smelling the familiar scent of hay in his sandy hair from working in the field all day, my face buried into his shoulder. He rarely talked about my mother to either me or my sister.

My mother had died eleven years earlier, while giving birth to me. I loved my father, as he loved me and my sister, but there was a lost expression in his eyes sometimes when he looked at me, the same lost expression in his eyes now, as he let go of me, and looked at me with fixed eyes from an arm's length away.

"I-I'm what?" He was still staring at me, his figure outlined with the glow of the roaring fire in the otherwise darkened room.

"You're a witch, Nikki." He handed me the letter. I regarded my father carefully, and then looked down at the envelope.

Ms. Nicole LaVoie
Willow Shade Farm
Liverpool
England

It was, of course, adressed to me, as were all the letters on the old wooden night stand next to my father. "Go ahead, open the letter," My father said softly. His mustache twitched into a smile.

Dear Ms. LaVoie,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later that July 31.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress

I read the letter twice through. it was impossible. There was no such thing as magic. I stood there in silence, staring at the yellowed parchment in my hands, my father grinning at me widely.




All right, that's all I can type for now, but I'll have part two of chapter one shortly!

New Reader!!!

That^^ was an awesome start!! Can't wait to see what happens, and who this guy is

PAMS

Jenn

Why thank youuu=D
I'm currently touching up part two, and I'll most likely have it on here later today!
Thank you for reading!

Brilliant post and can't wait for the next one!!!

I wonder which brother she isn't going to like??? Ron has quite a few!!!

PAMS!!!

Jemmz
xxx

Haha thanks!
I'm hopefully gonna post the next part later. I'm stilllll working on it, haha.

Yay! People are reading my story! =D

Take your time, I really want to know what brother it is though

Okay, part two was really long, so I shortened it and added the rest into chapter two. haha. This one's kinda boring, but I didn't want to bore you even more with a super long post. haha.

Chapter One
Part Two

And so the next day my father wrote a letter telling this school of magic that I would be attending it this year. I honestly wasn't sure if I wanted to go or not. I was much more anxious than scared, and I couldn't bare the thought of leaving Kate here at the farm. I didn't think I could stand being away from her for the school year, as we had gone to the local elementary in the past. This year was supposed to be her last, and then she would go to a private school, and I'd join her next year. Instead she would go through the school year alone and continue with tending the cows and chickens as I run off to some magic school by myself.

September 1st had arrived quicker than I had thought it would. I had never seen my father cry, but as he loaded my things into the truck, he had to wipe a tear from his eye.

"i'll be home for the holidays," I said, trying to console him once my sister and I had piled into the backseat.

My father got into the front seat. "I know," was all he said. We were on our way tot he London train station while I recounted the last week, which must've been the most elicit, exciting and bizarre week I had ever had. First, a very old, tall man dressed very peculiarly in purple robes appeared on our porch soon after we had sent the letter. I had hoped the robes on my supply list weren't supposed to look like his did, for they were a bit odd. I could still see the twinkle in his eyes behind his half moon spectacles. He was the headmaster of Hogwarts, and he explained to my father the itinerary for the school year. He told us about Diagon Alley, where I'd be getting all of my school supplies from. He showed us into Diagon Alley, behind a place in London I've certainly never been to, the Leaky Cauldron. After all the times I've gone into London, not once have I ever noticed this place. After showing us in, Professor Dumbledore left to get back to his school, and then to all the other coming first years with non magic parents. Diagon Alley has the most incredible and unbelievable shops I could've ever imagined. That's where I got my cauldron, my robes - which, thankfully, were a plain black and not a vivid purple - and the rest of my school supples, including my wand, ebony with unicorn hair. The past month had seemed like a dream, a wonderful, exciting dream that I never wanted to wake up from.

We finally reached the station, and got out of the truck. "Nikki, what's the number again?" my father asked.

"9 and 3/4's." My sister piped up before I could answer. She hadn't talked to me much since I had told her about my going away. I was surprised when she told us she wanted to see me off at the station. We usually got along well, but lately she had been avoiding me around the house.

"Ah, yes, that's right." My father said, leading the way into the station.

"How could there be a platform 9 and 3/4's?" Kate asked dubiously, her eyebrows raised.

I shrugged my shoulders and followed father. We stood in the middle of the archways between platforms 9 and 10.

"What now?" I asked, having no idea where platform 9 and 3/4's could be. Nobody was really paying any attention to us, but I had this weird feeling that I somehow looked different, not normal I guess. It was strange, dreamlike.

Just at that moment, a sandy-haired boy my age ran through a wall closer to platform 10, followed soon after by a woman with the same color hair.

I blinked twice. "Woah," My sister said, staring at the wall where the two people had dissappeared into.

"Is that how I-"

"I believe so," My father said, turning to me. If this was a dream, I thought, I really have nothing to fear about running straight into a brick wall. "Nikki, before you go, I want you to have this." From inside his pocket he brought out a silver chain and laid it on the palm of his hand. He held it out toward me. "This was your mother's," He said softly. It was a small silver necklace, with a small crescent moon pendent hanging from it.

I reached up and hugged my father, this time not bothering to hide my tearing eyes. He hooked the necklace around my neck.

"You'll be fine." My father said, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Have fun."

"Don't forget to write!" Kate said as I hugged her good bye. As she pulled away, I noticed her staring at the necklace around my neck.

"I won't." I looked back one more time at my family before I turned and ran toward the wall with my trunk behind me, as I had seen the boy do. I was half expecting to crash into it, but a moment later I had arrived in front of a gleaming scarlet train.

OH my gosh! This is soooo cool, really it is! I love it and so does Sabrina!!!

PAMS!!! I wonder who the sandy haired boy is... I think I know... keeps it a secret!

Jemmz
xxx

OMG! this story is amazing! I can't believe I didn't notice it yesterday. Well, PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS!!!
~Michelle~

Haha. Thank you very much. =D
You'll see who the sandy haired boy is later, probably. It's not too important thoughhh=D

Thank youuu!!! =D


Chapter Two

I dragged my luggage behind me as I wound my way through the gathered families saying goodbye toward the large scarlet train just ahead of me. I was a bit fraught with anxiety that I felt sort of nauseous. I boarded the train to try and find a compartment, most were filled by now. Halfway down the train, there was an almost empty one with only a boy my age inside. I slid open the compartment door. "Mind if I sit here?" I asked, already dragging my trunk inside.

"No, not at all." The boy said. He looked as if he had been crying. He had a plump face and his eyes were all red and swollen from rubbing them with his fists.

"Thanks," I said, sitting opposite him. He sniffed loudly. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"You haven't seen a toad, have you?"

"A toad?" I asked. This was an odd question. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"It's just, I lost him on the train, I can't find him anywhere." He slid off the seat and peered under it.

"What's your name?" I asked, watching him curiously.

He sat up straight. "Neville Longbottom. What's yours?"

"My names Nicole. LaVoie. You can call me Nikki." I said. just then, the compartment door opened by a girl with rather large front teeth and bushy brown hair.

"Well, Neville, I've searched all over for your toad, but I didn't see him anywhere." Neville's face looked crestfallen. The girl continued, "I've heard some boys talking about a toad down near the end of the train, though. It might be Trevor."

Neville jumped up. "Do they have him?" he asked desperately.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Who're you?" she looked at me quite suddenly, I was kind of surprised.

"Oh," I said, standing up. "Nikki LaVoie."

"I'm Hermione Granger. It's nice to meet you, Nikki. Come on Neville, let's go look for your toad.

"Can I come?" I asked, not wanting to be left alone in the compartment.

Hermione Granger looked at me oddly. "We're just going down the end of the train."

"You can come." Neville piped up, and we convoyed our way down the isle.

Hermione peered into the compartments as we passed them,all the while telling us, a bit loquaciously, "There were about three boys in the compartment, and they were laughing about something. They were being rather noisy so I told them to quiet down, and before I closed the compartment door, I heard someone say something about a toad. I don't know if it was yours, Neville, but we'll ask."

"Thanks, Hermione," Neville said appreciatively.

"Here it is. Oh I can't believe it. They're being so loud!" She huffed, and tapped on the compartment door with her fist. It slid open by a red headed, freckle faced boy who looked older than the three of us.

"Oh, hello again!" he said brightly to Hermione.

"Haven't I asked you before to keep the noise level down?" She said angrily.

"I believe so," the boy mused. Behind him were two other boys, one of them looked exactly like the one we were talking to, the other was a black boy with dreads.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Have either of you seen a toad?" she asked, becoming exasperated.

"What, this one?" said the twin inside the compartment, holding up a green amphibian.

"Trevor!" Neville yelped gleefully, moving past Hermione and into the compartment. The boy didn't hand over the toad to Neville, though. He stood up from his seat, his hands clasped around the squirming toad.

"Oh, we found him in here. Is this your toad?" He asked, glancing at his twin and at the boy across from him, who were both smirking.

"Y-yes." Neville stammered.

"Give him back." I said suddenly, sounding a lot braver than I felt. The three boys were being rather vexatious, and I had a feeling they were going to make a game out of this. Hermione crossed her arms and was glowering at the twin closer to her.

The boy with dreadlocks laughed. "All right, come on George, enough fooling around. Give the boy back his pet."

"No," George said slowly, his blue eyes falling onto me. I didn't shrink from his glare, which was more inquiring than menacing. "I think we'll keep him for a bit longer."

George's twin looked back at him with a confused visage. "George, this isn't like you, mate."

"Give Neville back his toad." I said again, more firmly, my teeth clenched.

"And what'll happen if I don't?"

"I'll-We'll-" I didn't know if there was anything that I could do about it.

"We'll go get a prefect." Hermione said loudly, sounding a lot more courageous than I had. She had straightened up and her eyes were narrowed unwaveringly at the boy with Neville's toad. "Now stop acting so immature and give us Trevor."

"Fred, what is it with these little first year telling us what to do?" He laughed arrogantly.

"I don't know, George," his twin, Fred laughed with him. I was starting to become furious. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I waltzed into the compartment, and to my own amazement, I stomped down hard on the boy named George's foot. He yelped and jumped backwards in surprise, falling onto the seat beside him.The toad had jumped out of his hands. Neville scrambled on the floor as he tried to catch him.

"Hey, now!" Lee said, trying to control his laughter, unlike Fred, who was laughing so hard he was holding his stomach. George jumped back up, his face as red as his hair.

"That's not funny!" He said profoundly as I turned on my heel and left the compartment. I made my way back to my own compartment, my heart racing. I was so furious at that boy for picking on Neville for no reason at all! At least the other two, Fred and Lee, had tried to tell him to stop.

Hermione ran to my side. Neville was close behind her, trying to keep hold of his struggling toad. "You really shouldn't have done that." she said. Now she was starting to agitate me. "He was saying how you'd regret that."

"I don't care." Was all I said, still infuriated.

"Thanks, Nikki," Neville said timidly as we got into our compartment.

I managed a small smile. "No problem."



And so began the endless dislike between me and the insufferable George Weasley.

I had a feeling it was going to be George. I can't believe he would pick on Neville like that. *slaps George* Nikki did the right thing by stomping on his foot. *Cheers Nikki on* Oh and before I forget PAMS PAMS PAMS!!!

Haha, you had a feeling? How come George? haha.

I know! When I read through it I was like, this doesn't sound like ANYTHING that fred or george would've done. Because they arent mean like that.

But I guess george really didnt mean to pick on Neville, it was just the fact that these 1st years strolled into their apartment and were all demanding and such.

*Slaps George on the other cheek* That was for being very very mean.

Sabrina says well done to Nikki though for stomping on his foot!

Keep going!!! This is really really good!!

PAMS!!!

Jemmz
xxx

Haha, thank you =D
I'll post the next chapter soon!

Ahh, I missed two posts!! I love chapter two, it took alot just to not burst out laughing, I would because it was so funny, but Im at school, dont think it really would of been appropriate. PAMS!!!

Me neither, bad George, bad! Don't pick on Neville, he's so much littler than you But I love that it's George that she doesnt get along with

PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS!!!

<3Jenn

Ok, so now it fast forwards to about 4 years later.

Chapter 3

An old, exhausted looking gray owl tapped vigorously outside on the window. I awoke with a start as I was a light sleeper. I climbed out of bed, nimbly whisked my long black hair away from my face sleepily, and hurried to let in the hapless owl.

The owl nearly fell onto the desk in front of it. I picked up the exhausted owl and held it up to see it properly in the moonlight. "Poor Errol," I said quietly before untying the letter Errol had on its scrawny leg. With the letter still in my hand, I walked across my bedroom to my own owl's perch, Morwenna. The slumbering owl had magnificent, pure black feathers. I had received my owl my very first Christmas at Hogwarts as a gift from my father.

I opened the cage door and picked up the silver water dish from inside it without waking Morwenna, and placed it onto the desk beside the gray barn owl. I unscrolled the letter, already knowing who it'd be from, for Errol was the Weasley's family owl.

Nikki,
Sorry this is late, but dad'll be there to get you to come to the burrow tomorrow evening, at six o'clock if that's ok. Send you're reply immediately. Hermione's already here, and I need someone sane around here, you know what I mean. She won't stop going on about spew. Well, see you soon.
Ron

I got out my own piece of paper from my desk drawer and quickly scribbled a reply. I figured he needed me to answer immediately, what with the return of Voldemort and the chance of letters becoming intercepted. That probably was the reason why he didn't mention Harry's name. I tied the letter to the owl's leg and opened the window for it to take flight again. It walked feebly toward the window, and was gone into the starry night in a few moments. I glanced at my alarm clock on top of my nightstand. It was a little after 11, and after shutting the window, I crawled back into bed.

I arose early as usual the next morning, more truly appreciating the fact that I was leaving for the burrow tonight. As I entered the kitchen, I saw two blondes sitting across from each other, one glowering at the other, who was talking incessantly to my father while he scrambled eggs at the stove.

I perched myself on the kitchen chair beside my sister, Kate, who stopped her hard staring. My family and I were all pretty well built from working on the farm all our lives, unlike the lady across the table, who could've passed as a stick if it weren't for her dyed bleach blond hair, heavy make up, and bright orange sun dress.

She was, my father's new girlfriend. The most superficial of them yet. I knew what she was after, she wasn't the kind to go for personality alone, not saying that my father was unattractive. He was 46. She was 25. A bit of a difference?

"I've talked Clarice into helping with our chores this morning," my father said cheerfully, placing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the kitchen table in front of us. "Told her that if she wants to get used to being around here, she's got to get used to the work too." I exchanged looks with Kate, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. This bimbo won't make our lives any easier, that was for sure. She wouldn't be able to handle the work, and she'd dump it all on our shoulders. I cannot say that I was looking forward to this summer. And then I remember I'd be leaving!

"I thought it was a - er - lovely idea, dear." She said, a wide smile on her face that showed off her pearly white teeth. When my father turned the other way to get the orange juice out of the fridge, she scowled in disgust and began filing her nails. I did all I could do to hide my annoyance as I piled eggs onto my plate.

After a big breakfast, my sister and I pulled on our old boots and trudged our way out the door to the big, red barn outside to do the usual morning chores, Clarice moaning along behind us as father left to let the cows in.

Father had me helping her with the simpler things, like feeding the calves and the chickens. She stood there, hand on her hip in some old clothes Kate lent her, examining her nails on her other hand.

"Here." I said, handing her an old once white pail filled halfway with frothy milk. "Third from the first stanchel."

Clarice snorted. "You're Kidding. Right?" And she went back to examining her freshly pedicured nails.

I sat down the pail for the calf to drink and I turned to the unbearable woman next to me.

"Listen. It's not hard at all. Just set it down in front of the calf and don't let her knock it over. A ten year old could handle as much."

"Then hire one." She laughed. She thought she was so amusing. I didn't say anything though. I wasn't about to deal with this so early in the morning, my temper was usually rather short at this time.

"All right," I sighed. "If you're not going to help with the calves, go feed the chickens. They're at the coop near the end."

Her eyes surveyed the disgusting floor of the manger which was covered in straw and calf business. "And what? Get my boots dirty?" She looked down at the old pair of boots. "Uck, what am I saying? They can't get anymore filthy!"

I wish my father could see her now, with her lips pursed and her nose upturned and her stance saying she's better that this. "First of all, you're in a barn, what did you expect? Second of all, they aren't even your boots!" I was becoming even more aggravated. "And third of all-"

I couldn't finish telling her off, for at that moment, my father appeared through the gate on our side of the barn, ready to stanchel in cows. "How're my pretty ladies doing?" He asked gaily. "Getting the hang of it, Clarice?"

"Oh yes!" She said, purposely making her voice sound more sweet than when she was talking to me. She lifted the bucket away from the drinking calf by the handle. "I've just got done feeding him! It's rather easy!"

"Her." I said scowling. "The calf is a her."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes, as my father continued down the barn, stancheling in the cows.

After chores, while Clarice was in the bathroom taking a shower and swearing to God she'd never step a foot in a barn again, I told my dad that Ron invited me to his house for the rest of the summer, like last year during the Quidditch World Cup.

"Why so early?" My father asked. "You can see your friends all year at school."

"Nikki, we don't see you often as it is!" Kate began but I cut across her.

"I know!" I said, already prepared for the guilt trip I had known they were going to put me on. I sat down next to my father on the couch. It was bright and airy in the living room, as all the windows were open wide, letting in the sun to fill every corner of the whole room with its warm light.

After a few minutes of begging and reasoning, I convinced my father to let me go tonight, although he wasn't pleased with how short of a notice Ron had given me.

I went upstairs to pack my trunk after my father had left with Clarice to go out to lunch. From the corner of my closet I pulled it out and opened it. It was empty except for my cauldron. I always emptied my trunk after every school year.

I set my trunk on the floor at the end of my bed, and walked back over to my closet. I had several sets of school robes hanging up inside of it, and I took them out and folded them neatly into my trunk, not bothering to see if they still fit. I set all of my old school books on top of my robes, because I wasn't sure of which ones I still needed. I packed some of my muggle clothes on top of those, then packed all that was left of my parchment and ink, though it wasn't much. I grabbed my sketchbook from on top of my desk, and put it inside the trunk as well, disregarding the paint tubes I left scattered on my desk, as I'd have to leave them behind anyways.

My sister fluttered into my room and sat down cross legged on my bed. "Nikki," she began. "Why don't you stay? For a little while longer? I don't think I'd be able to put up with that insufferable woman for much longer by myself."

"I'm sorry," I said adamantly. I realized I had forgotten my Nimbus 2001. I had gotten it in my second year. I was forced to ride a faulty cleansweep for half the year after making the Gryffindor Quidditch team as chaser, until Oliver Wood made me get my own, and so what if I had picked out the same as the git Draco Malfoy had, not to mention his whole team. Not that it matters, really, it is a perfectly good broomstick. Not as good as Harry's Firebolt, how I envy that broomstick.

I found it in my closet, leaning up against the side, and I packed that in my trunk too.

"I wonder what it'd be like to ride on a broomstick," Kate sighed dreamily.

"It's amazing," I told her. "Maybe I'll let you have a spin sometime, if it doesn't break any of the wizarding laws, that is. I'll have to ask Hermione about that."

"I'll hold you to it." Kate laughed, sliding off the side of my bed. She sat down at my computer and started surfing the web as I continued to arrange my things, trying not to forget anything. I threw Morwenna a couple of owl treats. I had let her out earlier and I wasn't going to risk letting her out again in case she neglected to come back before Mr. Weasley got here.

loved it Can't wait tos ee what happens at the Burrow!!!

PAMS PAMS!!

Chapter 4
Part One


My father arrived home alone a little after 5. I had taken a quick shower because I smelled like cow manure from the evening chores. I dried my hair and hauled my trunk down the stairs and into the living room, Morwenna in her cage under my arm.

"Well, I'm all set." I said, sitting down. I looked at my watch. It was almost 6 o'clock. I sat on the couch waiting anxiously. I didn't know how Mr. Weasley would be arriving, our fireplace isn't hooked to the floo network, and he didn't have his car anymore, thanks to Harry and Ron. I decided that he would probably apparate.

There was a knock on the door. I jumped up to get it, but my father had arrived at the door first. He opened the door wide, and welcomed in a tall, balding, red haired man with horn rimmed glasses. He was shaking my father's hand vigorously. The odd muggle clothes he was wearing forced me to hastily stifle a laugh.

"Good evening! It's good to see you again, Arthur! I don't believe you've met my daughter, Kate." My father said,ushering him inside.

My sister Kate was standing in the living room doorway, and Mr. Weasley rushed in to shake her hand too. "It's good to meet you. Sorry it's so late, I would've been here sooner, but I am so caught up in work lately. Tonight was the only time I was sure I'd be able to come-"

"That's quite all right," My father said politely.

"I have to tell you again, this is a lovely home you have here, Mr. LaVoie." Mr. Weasley's eyes were moving so fast around our house, I bet he was doing all he could to keep himself from rushing to the nearest muggle artifact and examining it.

"Mr. Weasley," I said. I feared he'd crack under the restraint he was putting himself under. "How're we leaving?"

He looked at me and smiled widely. "Well, I've tried to have the floo network connected to your house, but it wasn't possible at the moment. We'll have to fly, it's the only way."

"Fly? Like, on broomsticks?" I said eagerly.

"Exactly," Mr. Weasley said.

We stepped outside into the warm, air that was steadily becoming cooler as it was getting darker. Floating out in the middle of the driveway was an old broom of Mr. Weasley's. He walked over to it. He turned back to us, and his eyes caught the gleam of of our big green tractor in the light from the barn. "Is that a - what's it called?" he asked, pointing to it excitedly with his finger. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"It's a tractor," I almost laughed, as I bent over to retrieve my own broom from my trunk.

He looked at it sort of longingly. This time I did laugh. "Mr. Weasley," I said. "If you want to go look at it, we can."

"What? Really?" He said, if possible, a little more excitedly. He stepped toward the barn a bit, but then stopped abruptly. "No, I mustn't, we really must get back, lest Molly be worried." He pointed his wand at my trunk and owl cage and they tied themselves to the harness hanging from Mr. Weasley's broom.

"Well, it was good to see you again, Mr. LaVoie, nice to meet you Kate." He said,grinning widely again.

"Yeah, you too," My sister said.

"Yes, it was," My father said, nodding.

"Bye Katie," I said as she hugged me tightly.

"Goodbye, Nikki. If you need anything, just write." My father said, also hugging me.

"After you," said Mr. Weasley, mounting his broomstick. My father and sister watched curiously as I mounted my own. I shuddered as I rose into the air, feeling the surprising, cool wind lick at my bear arms and face. There was such a feeling of freedom and excitement rushing through my body as I rose higher into the air, watching as my father and sister shrank into two tiny waving specks below me. I hadn't flown in a long time, as there was no Quidditch matches during the Triwizard Tournament last year.

I flew alongside Mr. Weasley and it seemed like a lifetime had passed until we finally descended and I had landed smoothly in the front lawn of the Burrow. Mr. Weasley led the way to the kitchen door, and when he opened it,he stood back to let me enter. The sight of a cluttered kitchen and of a long table with mismatched chairs was soon obscured by a plump, kind looking woman who wrapped me into a hug immediately.

"It's so good to have you here, dear!" she welcomed me warmly. "Dinner's on the stove, should be ready in about half an-"

"Nikki!" Hermione Granger stopped in the process of setting dishes at the table to hug me also. Mrs. Weasley turned back to her stew. "Ron's outside, playing quidditch-"

"He is?"

"Yes, but it's getting late-" Hermione began.

"It's not dark yet. Come on, I haven't ridden in about a year, not since today!" As we were flying to the Burrow, I couldn't wait to land and get out of the cold rushing wind, but a quidditch match was just so tempting, and now I was dying to get back on my broomstick. "I'll just go put this upstairs."

Hermione helped me carry my trunk upstairs to Ginny's room. I set it inside at the end of the cot that had been set up for me. I hurried back down the stairs, Hermione tagging along behind me, and made my way to the apple orchard where I knew Ron would be.



My parents are kicking me off the computer, haha. So I'll post the rest of chapter 4 laterrrr.
I hope this isn't toooo boring so far.

It's not boring at all. Awesome post! I'm glad to see that my parents arent the only ones that kick me off the computer

PAMS!

No... bad parents... I want to read more of the story!!

It's really good! Keep it up! H/G4eva is right... it isn't boring at all!

Jemmz
xxx