𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚, 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐬 || 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

II: Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

NOTE: UNLESS IT IS MINERVA SPEAKING OR SOMEONE FROM HOGWARTS (WHICH WILL HAPPEN LATER ON IN THE STORY) THEY DO HAVE A FRENCH ACCENT. I KNOW THAT IN THE BOOKS THEIR ACCENTS ARE WRITTEN AS WELL (I.E. WE 'AVE NONE OF ZIS IN ZE 'ALLS). BUT I HONESTLY DON'T THINK I CAN WRITE THAT WAY BECAUSE I'M BOUND TO BUTCHER IT. SO IF A BEAUXBATONS STUDENT OR STAFF MEMBER SPEAKS, JUST IMAGINE THE FRENCH ACCENT. THANK YOU!

Smiling for miles
In pink dresses and high heels
And white yachts
But I'm not that

•September 1, 1947•
Across the North Sea

5:00 PM

A tiny lick to her cheek is what had startled Minerva out of her sleep. She cracked open one eye to find Oliver millimeters away from her face.

"What are you doing?" She laughed quietly as the kitten pawed at her nose. Minerva blew out a puff of air from her nostrils, causing Oliver to retract his paw quickly.

"How do you feel about going to France, Oliver?" She asked the cat who looked up at her with big blue eyes at the sound of his name. "Do you even know where France is?" She added, her voice rising in pitch to amuse the little thing.

The Scottish Princess laughed loudly as Oliver playfully pounced on her. Once she had managed to pry his claws from her dress, she held in from of her by the scruff.

He dangled there for a few minutes, not really minding the way he was currently being held.

Minerva tickled his stomach with a manicured finger and pulled back quickly when he bared his claws.

"Well, that was rude." She told the cat who did not seem to care about what she had to say on his behavior. Finally letting the kitten go, she let Oliver explore the small space of the carriage.

The girl snickered as she watched her cat rub his scent glands... everywhere. As Oliver did whatever it was he was doing, Minerva picked up the only personal book she brought with her.

It was the book Papa read the day she was born. And the book that gave her the inspiration to name her Minerva.

She ran her fingers along the leather bound cover and the indents of its spine fondly. It had only been an hour, but she missed her Papa dearly.

Sniffing lightly, Minerva shook herself out of her emotional state and snuggled under the tartan afghan she brought along.

She would be the only Scot in a school full of French... and a few other countries probably, but definitely not Scotland.

Rubbing her arms for comfort, Minerva felt her wand under the sleeve of her dress. Gasping lightly, she tugged the wand from the strap that held it in place.

Minerva fingered the wand for a while, sitting in a daze as she waited until they had reached their destination.

"Your Highness," the coach man called from the front, startling Minerva from her reverie.

"Yes?" She answered, sitting up straighter and smoothing her hair down.

"We're about to land," he informed and Minerva nodded as she plucked Oliver up into her lap. She let him nibble on her fingers for a while, realizing he was getting hungry.

The sound of neighs caused Minerva to jump slightly and peek out through the curtains of the carriage. She was awed by the other carriages and she could hear the other students laughing from the inside.

The Princess gasped as the carriages shifted downward, barely registering the coach man's apology. From what she could see, the older students had already arrived.