Yellow (George Weasley)

1 - Ford Anglia

I frantically ran my fingers through the many knots in my caramel brown hair in a futile attempt to straighten up my appearance. Sleep riddled the girl looking back at me through the mirror, having just rolled out of bed in a hurry and the fact that it was a few past midnight. I wasn't given a whole lot of notice, but any minute now three boys would be by to pick me up in a flying car.

It may sound quite ridiculous, but I've come to expect nothing less from the Weasleys. I grew up alongside the family, spending most of my summers with their seven children. I thought back on these memories with a smile as I shoved fistfuls of clothing into my battered trunk, worn from years of summer holidays.

My dad however will not be happy with my chosen mode of transportation. Especially considering who may be driving it. I assume that one of the older twin boys would be behind the wheel tonight, but the problem is I can't decide who would be the better of the two. The minute my father saw any one of the red headed boys behind the wheel he would be chaining me to the house.

No one could really blame him. He had a difficult time grasping the wizarding lifestyle since the passing of my mother, Amelia. I had inherited my magical abilities from her while my father on the other hand was relatively clueless about the Wizard World. My mum hadn't found out she was a witch until she received her Hogwarts letter. Both of her parents were Muggles, but luckily for her they were supportive. From some of the stories my dad has told me about her childhood, I think they were just grateful for some sort of explanation for her strange behavior.

She had fallen in love with a Muggle when she was just seventeen. They had met on a summer holiday by the ocean just before my mum's last year of school. From then on, their love blossomed and she had even went on to introduce him to her best friend and her husband, Molly and Arthur Weasley. Back in her days at Hogwarts, my mum had been sorted into Gryffindor alongside a young Molly Prewett. The two had been inseparable and thankfully were able to pass that friendship on to their kids, hence giving me my two best friends at Hogwarts.

I found myself cradling the small picture frame of my family that I kept on my bedside table. My mum and dad had their arms wrapped tight around a younger version of myself as I beamed up at them. I had inherited my mother's feminine features and bright green eyes, which I'm reminded of nearly every day by my father.

My mother was a kind, selfless person. I only wish she would have been around for more of my life. I was only three years old when she was killed in a Muggle car accident. At this point I've lived most of my life raised by my father — he did a wonderful job regardless of the devastating circumstances.

In the distance, I heard the puttering of a ratty old car engine. "Shit." I mumbled, closing the lid of my trunk with a click. I dragged my belongings by my bedroom window before creeping out into the hallway to say my goodbyes to my father.

Our house was still and quiet as I tiptoed into the dark room, jostling his shoulder. "Dad."

He instantly jolted awake. His nearly black hair was all out of sorts. "Is he back?" He croaked. "Oh, sweetheart. It's just you."

"Sounds like you were having an odd dream, dad." I giggled, watching the man sink back into his duvet with a quiet groan. "I'm leaving for school. The Weasleys are picking me up." Technically not a lie. Just not the entire story.

"It's the middle of the night." He glanced over at the digital clock on his bedside table with squinted eyes. "When you said you were leaving tomorrow I assumed you meant at noon not two in the morning."

"Well it's the time that worked best for them." I shrugged. Our conversation was interrupted by the bleat of a car horn. "That's them! I better get going."