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Chapter One The Emotional Renaldi Covey
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On the morning of September first, Davina Jeanne Covey was wide awake at four a.m. She'd spent the night restlessly tossing and turning in bed, that she even woke Florence who told her to sleep in the living room.
Instead, Davina walked downstairs and popped in one of her favorite films and watched it to completion. Maybe I am a little too obsessed, Davina thought to herself once she went back upstairs to dress for the day. She shook her head in amusement and opened the door to her and her younger sister's bedroom.
Inside, Florence Covey held two blouses in her hand, trying to decide which would be better to wear. Luckily for her, Davina walked in just in time. "DJ, which do you think is prettier?"
The raven-haired girl glanced at the blouses once and replied, "Yellow, definitely yellow."
Florence pouted her lips and sighed. "Yellow it is."
Unlike Florence, Davina quickly dressed and pulled her hair into its usual ponytail. When Florence left the room, Davina reached under the bed and pulled out a small, hand-crafted wooden box. The box had been a gift from her father when she was younger. He had given it to her, hoping she would be able to place anything she treasured deeply inside the wood. And now, it protected her deepest secrets.
Switching the lock to the side, Davina opened the box and pulled out the letters inside. She took the one on top and opened it — it was Peter's letter. A rush of relief filled her as her eyes traced over the words her eleven-year-old self had written.
"What are you doing?" The voice of Florence reappeared in the doorway, which caused Davina to scramble and shove the small chest into her school trunk. She picked up a book in order to act as if she had been searching for it instead.
Out of habit, Davina replied in French, "N-nothing, just looking for a book to take on the train."
The younger girl narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Taking Davina's awkwardness as nothing more than her usual state, Florence nodded. "Maman says breakfast is ready and to put your trunk by the fireplace."
Taking her leave, Florence rolled her eyes when she heard Davina groan in annoyance. Traveling by Floo Powder was one of Davina's least favorite things in the world (right next to winters in Bulgaria). When she was nine, Davina had mispronounced Anomalies et entités magiques de Floria and ended up in Anolie's Ties and Margins on Florida Avenue in Leicester. Renaldi and Elio had a field day in search of the young girl and finally managed to locate her with the help of the Department of Magical Transportation.
Davina shook the memory of her thoughts and looked around her bedroom for any last minute items. Taking the batch of hair ties on her nightstand, she grabbed the floral colored one and placed the rest inside her trunk. With one last look at her bedroom, Davina went downstairs to join breakfast.
Renaldi smiles warmly and kissed the girl's forehead as a greeting. "Morning, chérie. Got everything?"
"Bonjour, maman. Everything's set," Davina said. Renaldi handed the girl her bowl of oatmeal receiving thanks.
After breakfast, the Covey girls traveled one by one through the fireplace to arrive at the Platform. Davina being the last of the three to appear at the Platform, with soot across her cheeks.
Renaldi rubbed her cheek which caused Davina to push her away. "Maman!"
"You have soot! Hold still."
"I wouldn't have soot if we hadn't traveled by floo!"
Renaldi lowered her hand and pushed the girls along towards the train. As usual, the Platform was filled with families off to see their children as they journeyed to Hogwarts. For many, it was a time of happiness and excitement. For Davina, it seemed nostalgic and all she really wanted to do was stay at home. She did love school, don't get her wrong, she just missed her home more than anything.
"Don't start crying, Maman," Florence said with a cringe across her face while her mother's eyes glossed.
Renaldi grinned and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I just can't help it. You're both so grown up."
"You say that every year," Davina said.
"Because you grow every year!"
Before Davina or Florence could say anything else to comfort their mother, a familiar blonde pushed their way through the crowd and joined them. "I knew that French sounded familiar!"
Roman Diggory had a wide smile across her face, gleaming brightly as she usually was. The girl, who was the younger sister of Amos Diggory, a seventh year Hufflepuff, was Davina's roommate and close friend at Hogwarts.
"Aren't you only familiar with our French, Roman?" Florence questioned snarkily, sending the blonde an eye roll.
"That's not the point, Flo!" The girl said with a huff. "Anyways, it's almost time to board and Peter's saving us a compartment."
Both of Renaldi's cheeks were kissed as Davina and Florence went to board the train. "Salut, Maman!"
"You two better write me!" Renaldi called after them as they stepped on the train with Roman.
"Of course!"
Renaldi clasped her hands together and watched the girls disappear with a sad smile. As much as she wanted her daughters to go to school and learn to be successful, she simply wished that they wouldn't leave her alone. She prayed that she would never lose her daughters like she had lost her husband. Renaldi could never bear their loss — Davina and Florence also knew she wouldn't handle losing either of them. Florence, although younger, vaguely remembered the time of her father's passing. Davina, however, remembered it clear as day. And she hoped she would never have to see her mother like that ever again.
Davina passed a window as she followed Roman and her sister, and looked out to see her mother. She held a hand up and waved, smiling when Renaldi waved back.
Roman called down from the end of the small hallway, "Davina!"
She tore her eyes away from her mother and went to join them. It didn't take long for the three girls to find their friend saving a compartment towards the end of the train.
Peter Kavinsky smiles brightly as the three girls entered the compartment. Davina taking a seat beside him while Florence and Roman sat across. "What took you three so long?"
