When I was little, my mother and father taught me a large mixture of children's stories. I always thought that I was lucky, that since I had a mix of Muggle and wizard fables, I had twice the lessons. So I was destined to have a smaller percentage rate of failing.
Turns out, I was wrong. My percentage rate of failure was probably doubled.
As I turned off the shower, I sighed at myself for the completely idiotic thoughts I had. My bad fortune had nothing to do with the amount of fairytales I was told. I pulled a towel around myself and exited the bathroom, chastising myself in low mumbles.
"Finally cracked?"
I jumped and pulled the towel tighter around myself, almost slipping in the water I was dripping. Peter caught me by the elbows and pulled me upright before taking a step back. Always the perfect gentleman.
I took a step toward him and pecked his lips, then moved away again. "Trust me darling. You haven't even seen cracked yet." I said in my best sickly sweet voice, then turned on my heel and marched into the bedroom I had claimed as my own. I was sure Peter was still standing where I had left him, mouth agape. It made me laugh aloud just picturing it. Maybe I had finally cracked.
I picked up my duffel bag off the floor and put on jeans and a black tank top, then pulled a sweatshirt over my head. I towel dried my hair the best I could before tightly braiding it. I had mastered braiding my own hair ages ago, one of the many boredom filled nights that led to over-exploration of the internet.
I slipped on my shoes and threw my dirty dress into my bag, zipping it up and throwing it over my shoulder. As I exited the room, Peter was not standing in the hallway, much to my disappointment. I jogged down the stairs to find both boys sanding at the doorway, talking about where Peter lived exactly, so that Hugo could safely Apparate us there. Hugo thought it was safer to Apparate to somewhere nearby that was always empty, so not to freak people out and cause a ruckus. So Peter told us about the old abandoned theatre house, no one was ever there and we were sure to be able to safely Apparate into the theatre without anyone seeing.
We joined hands and Hugo took a deep breath before closing his eyes. Peter looked prepared to get sick again, for his face had turned a sickly white. I tried to hold back my laugh, and as my giggle broke the silence, we were pulled away from Shell Cottage.
We landed less gracefully this time, all of us tumbling onto the hard wood of the stage in the theatre house. I stood and rubbed my right arm, which I had fallen right on top of. I looked around and gladly found Peter not puking. His face was flushed, and he was rubbing his knee, but he seemed fine otherwise. I walked over and helped him up, and Hugo joined us, face flushed with adrenaline.
"Wasn't that fun, mate?" He clapped a hand onto Peter's shoulder and smiled gleefully at me. "I'm the youngest wizard to ever really successfully Apparate."
I shook my head. "Your mother was the first."
Hugo scoffed. "She was the youngest witch to ever Apparate. I'm the youngest wizard. There's a difference, you twit."
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Hu."
"Are you two coming or not?" Peter called. Hugo and I looked toward the back of the theatre, where Peter was standing, propping the back door open. We both lugged out bags over our shoulders and made way toward the door.
We walked in silence. I'm not sure if this was on purpose or just because we didn't have anything to say, but it didn't bother me. The silence gave me some time to myself, to think over everything that had gone on in the last two days. It was hard to believe that just two days ago, I was finishing another year of school. That I was happy, carefree to some extent. My worst worry was whether I was going to have to take calculus next year.
