❝How about we keep that back-up murder thing as a plan B, yeah?❞
In which the girl who just wanted a fun adventure regrets all of her life decisions.
BOOK ONE!
started: 28th july, 2020
finished: 26th december, 2022
[Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fi...
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VIOLA MERELY GROANED in annoyance when Hermione nudged her shoulder and told her to wake up.
The sunlight from the opened curtains pierced her eyes, and the cold she felt hitting the exposed part of her foot was in no way encouraging her to get up and get dressed. She pulled the duvet up to shield her eyes, not at all happy to feel the weight of her clothes thrown at her by Hermione.
"We're already running late and Mrs. Weasley has made breakfast!" Hermione snapped.
"I'll get something on the train," Viola murmured, then cried out as Hermione tugged the duvet off. The hairs on her arms immediately stood up as the air hit her, and her pyjama bottoms didn't do much to shield her from the cold.
"Come on, you need to eat something before the guard gets here!"
"The guard?" Viola asked groggily, beginning to sit up. "What guard?"
"We have to have a guard accompany us to King's Cross because they want it to be safe for Harry," Hermione explained. "Now get dressed!"
"Alright," Viola said begrudgingly, finally getting out of bed and grabbing her pile of clothes, ignoring Hermione's impatient stare. She went down the hall to the nearest bathroom, got ready as quick as she could, then put her pyjamas away.
Hermione wasn't in the room anymore when she got back, and Ginny had long since gone downstairs. Viola sighed before grabbing her trunk and lugging it down to utter chaos. Mrs. Weasley was running around, waving a wooden spoon about and shouting at people; Ron was arguing with George; Harry was sulking, and Hermione kept looking at her watch every couple of seconds.
Viola snaked her way through the thick clutter of bodies, all the way to the table where she managed to snag a half cold piece of toast.
"Leave the trunks, Alastor is dealing with the luggage!" Mrs. Weasley screamed to the room at large, and suddenly Viola was being ushered out of the kitchen by an Order of the Phoenix member she didn't know the name of.
She only realised that Mrs. Black's screeching portrait was a chunk of the racket resounding throughout the house when she reached the hall. It was almost a relief to see the front door open, out onto the run-down old street that was quiet, and she wasted no time in hurrying up her walk to make it outside.
When everyone was finally ushered out, they got going, not slowed down at least by the extra weight of luggage. With not much time to spare, they were going to have to walk quickly to make it on time.
