"Can I call you Tori? You know Tori, I'm a great friend."
"I don't get it, why are you being nice to me?"
"Maybe I don't want to see you friendless."
When Victoria Silvers, who comes from a long line of Slytherins, is sorted into Gryffindor her life...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp and as fresh as dawn. A now-adult Dove rushed around her house, flicking her wand around in order to clean up.
"Victoria! Get down here! We are going to be late!" She called up the stairwell, hoping the message would reach her daughter.
"I said one more minute, Mum! I need to fit this in... my trunk!" There was a loud crash from upstairs, causing an older Dove to sigh. She ran her fingers through her thick hair, standing at the end of the stairwell in her house. A door opened across the room, causing Dove to turn and frown.
"I'd say that's going well," Her husband chuckled, kissing her on her head while grabbing his coat from the couch.
"She's just like her Aunt. Annoyingly stubborn... Victoria!"
"One minute, Mum!"
"Well then, I'd say we named her accordingly." Her husband nodded, gesturing to the kitchen. "He's all set up and ready to go."
"That makes one of our children..." Dove sighed, storming up the staircase, leaving her husband to chuckle to himself as Dove's voice rose.
"I told you, you do not bring those fireworks! I don't care if they were a gift from George! They are staying home!"
"DAD! Can I bring the fireworks that Uncle George gave me for my birthday?" The sound of footsteps came running down the stairs as a young girl came into view. Victoria was a spitting image of her mother, and they were both wearing the same frown.
Dove watched her husband as he sighed. "Vicky, listen to your mother, alright? We haven't got time for this. Dove, he's in the kitchen."
Dove nodded, walking past her daughter and turning to her husband. "Make sure she gets packed." When she walked out of the room, her husband turned to his daughter, who was pouting.
"Hide the box under a couple of jumpers in your trunk. Now come on. If the train leaves without you I'm not driving you."
Dove sat down next to her son, who was seated on a chair against the window. "Are you excited?" She asked him, glanced over at his trunk which was fully packed.
Her son nodded, fiddling with his robes. "I'm a bit nervous," He admitted, "But excited."
"That's perfectly normal," Dove replied, running her fingers through his hair to straighten the top of it out. "And you're sister will be there to help you out and take care of you."
"What if we're in different houses?" Vicky asked, appearing at the kitchen door.
"You'll still take care of him because he is your brother," Dove said, narrowing her eyes. Vicky put her hands up innocently, "I'm only joking, Mum, of course, I'll take care of him."
"Alright! Everyone pile in the car now! We've got to get going." Dove's husband called from the living room.
