"Mum, I'm home!" she called out into her house. Her arms held several bags: groceries, errands for her mother, and the one package that she knew her brother was going to tackle her for. She could already hear his footsteps running down the hall from the other side of the house.
"What'd you get me?" he asked in excitement.
"I'll tell you once you finish peeling these potatoes," she said, handing her brother one of the bags.
A disappointed look washed over his face as he stared into the sack.
She ruffled his hair with her hand with a smile as she walked to the kitchen to drop off the groceries. Her mother was already there, washing dishes from earlier in the day.
"What's all the commotion about?" her mother asked as Clarissa set the bags on the counter. She looked over and saw the bag from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and sighed. "Not those things again."
"It makes him happy, mum," she replied, "and gives us all a good laugh. Admit it."
"If your father was here..."
Clarissa rolled her eyes as she left the kitchen and jogged upstairs. She wanted to empty her lot before giving the bag to her brother, keeping all of the good things she wanted for herself.
Her house wasn't a big one. There was just enough room for her small family. She had two more brothers, although she only ever said she had one older brother. That one, Roman, was five years older than her and was in Romania helping study dragons. It had been his passion ever since he had gone to Hogwarts and talked with the groundskeeper about mystical creatures. He had developed a great passion for them and dragons just tickled his fancy.
Her other brother, though, she hadn't seen in years. Griffin was her elder by three years and had a heart as cold as ice. From a young age, she had always been afraid of him. He'd prank her to the point of tears and never showed much remorse for anyone. When he went to Hogwarts, it was no surprise that he had been sorted into Slytherin. As the years went by, her family saw less and less of him. His activities were always a secret and he'd grown even more cold than he was in his childhood. The summer after Cedric Diggory had been killed during the Triwizard Tournament was the last time her family had ever seen Griffin.
And to Clarissa, it was a good riddance.
As she walked back downstairs, she was happy to see that her younger brother, Michael, had indeed finished peeling the potatoes as she had asked and was now helping their mother prepare the other veggies for that night's meal. She dropped the package near his knapsack in the parlor and walked into the kitchen to help with whatever else needed to be prepped.
Michael was a fourth year at Hogwarts. He was enjoying all of his classes, having a particular gift with Charms. He loved Quidditch and was playing for Gryffindor during the coming school year. He could play as a Chaser or a Beater.
Looking at the four Caxton children, though, one never would have guessed that Clarissa was related to any of her brothers. The boys had all inherited their dark hair from their father, freckles lightly dusted across their faces. Clarissa, on the other hand, had hair that was a deep red color, matching her mother's. Her face was also freckle free, aside from the random beauty marks that graced her features. Michael always threatened to connect her beauty marks with a marker, the taunt always being met with a quick whack to the back of his head by their mother.
"So, I ran into an interesting person when I was in Diagon Alley today," Clarissa started, checking on the boiling potatoes at the stove.
"Oh?" her mother asked.
"Was it a boy? Because if it was I don't wanna hear about it," Michael announced, his face going sour.
Clarissa laughed. "Actually it was a boy," she replied with a smirk, "and he offered me a job."
YOU ARE READING
A Chance Encounter | Fred Weasley
Hayran KurguWhen a new worker steps into the lives of Fred and George Weasley, it isn't hard to see that she blends in seamlessly with the twins and their pranking natures. What happens when one twin falls hard and they all get tangled into her family matters? ...