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In the quiet of the Gibbs' household, an alarm clock started blurring obnoxiously loud, urging everyone in a close enough proxitimity to stand up and shut it down in any way they could. Despite the incredibly annoying sound it made, though, the only adult in the house kept snoring away in her room, while her daughter—the one that had set the alarm clock in the first place—let out a barely audible groan, an eye popping open to glare at the clock vibrating on her nightstand. She pushed herself up, her gaze never leaving the object that was set on making her mandatory existence in this world a thousand times more unbearable than it already was, and shut it off, extremely gently if one were to judge by the violent way she was woken up. Once the alarm clock was turned off, she fell back on her bed.

She threw the sheets away as she stood up, not bothering to pick them up again as she reached to a chair she had in a corner of the room and retrieved the clothes she had left there the previous night. On her way to the door, she reached down to grab a pair of black combat boots before she left the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. She crossed the corridor from her room to the other side of the hall and opened the door, slipping in before closing the door behind her. Within a few seconds, she had undressed herself and was hopping in the shower. She had finished in a few minutes.

She got dressed in front of the mirror into a white shirt with a black skirt, a black robe with green embodiments, long black socks and after putting on her shoes, she moved on to the rest of her uniform. She tied a green and silver tie around her neck, pinned a silver and green pin on her shirt depicting a serpent along with her name in the bottom of it, then she pinned another pin next to her other one that wrote in proud, capital letters, 'Prefect'.

A couple of short silver chains she wore as bracelets on either of her wrists jingled as she moved, putting on her loopy silver earrings, then fixing her make-up as she did every time she were about to leave the house—dark eyelashes appearing longer, a perfect wing with her eye-liner forming once she was through with it, plump lips painted in a shade of dark red—and then, once she had finished, she let her hair down. It took her almost an hour to fix the dark mane of hair into elegant curls but in the end, she thought it was worth the effort. With half of her hair up and away from her face, and her appearance finally up to her standards, she left the room. Her mother had yet to wake up.

She didn't even bother checking the hour as she got in her bedroom, grabbed a trunk and started dragging it after her with one hand, grabbing a rather fancy broomstick with the other on her way out—she already knew she was running late—the girl didn't even bother to keep quiet as she made her way to the front door and got out. She instantly looked around, her dark eyes narrowed as she searched across the garden, until her gaze fell on the brown cat with the black stripes moving towards her, parting the overgrown grass on its way to her.

"Cleo, come here."

Cleopatra, or for short, Cleo, the brown cat with the black stripes, raised her head, her brilliant golden eyes falling on her. She meowed softly as she walked over towards her, and as the girl lowered herself to the ground, she moved to her feet and raised a paw her way. With a small sigh, she reached down and picked her up with some difficulty, holding her close to her chest. She let the trunk to the side as she searched in her robes for a while, taking out a long dark stick of wood she called a wand. She raised it in the air, aware that the neighbours around couldn't see a thing—they were too far away to have any idea what was going on—and the tip of her wand brightened. A second later, a red bus stopped in the side of the road in front of her with a screech.

The girl walked over as the door of the bus opened and a man around his thirties got out. "Welcome to the Knight Bus. How can we help you?"

"Cut the formalities and help me with my trunk, Will," she called out with a smirk as she got on the bus, holding her broomstick with one hand, Cleo and her wand with the other. The man chuckled as he reached for her trunk.

Glory |A. Potter|Where stories live. Discover now