[BEING GRADUALLY REWRITTEN INTO THIRD PERSON]
"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance"
- Aristotle
What if this inward significance was being able to create a piece moments before it happen...
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═══════════════ CHAPTER TWO ═══════════════
The summer holidays wrapped itself up and gave the desperate parents a sigh of relief as it meant being able to send their children back to school
After having an already eventual first year, Ophelia was praying this year it wasn't going to be as chaotic. Especially she was hoping her friends weren't planning on getting possessed this year
With that hopeful thought, she fluttered her eyes open and Rose herself out of bed. Comfortably, she threw on a pair of blue denim jeans and a sweater as she then pulled her hair back
A sigh escaped her lips as she looked over to her already packed trunk. She was genuinely elated to be returning back to Hogwarts for another year of learning magic, however at the same time she felt uneasily about the upcoming year and what it might bring
"Ophelia" A knock at her door pulled her away from her thoughts. She processed the voice as her father before he spoke again "Breakfast is ready"
"Coming" She responded, going over to the door and making her way into the kitchen where her father greeted her. He sat at the table with a plate of stacked pancakes by him. A smile danced on her lips as she took her seat, squeezing the syrup over them before cutting into it. Her mouth practically watered at the sweet taste which filled her mouth
Seeing as the day was growing later, she finished up before returning back to her room. Making a mental checklist, she went through everything she knew she'd need for school. Her eyes then wandered across her room, looking in case she'd forgotten to pack anything
When she felt certain everything was ready, she pulled her luggage out of her room and through their flat. Carefully she lugged the trunk down she stairs, bringing it into the bakery where she safely left it in the corner
"Well if it isn't my favourite twelve year old" A voice grins. Ophelia turns her heads to see Marisol Vendetta, a usual customer at their bakery. She had been coming for several years now and always went for the same order. The middle aged woman had dark blonde hair which dropped to her shoulders and ocean blue eyes. Warmly, she opened her arms, anticipating a friendly hug in which she received
The two females rocked back and forth slightly as Ophelia properly greeted her with words. A soft chuckle escaping both of their lips
"Good luck with school, yeah" She grins "Second years always harder than the first"
"Of course it is" Ophelia scoffed, rolling her eyes. The woman patted her shoulder as another voice rung out
