Ella Hart believed her life was completely ordinary. Well, as ordinary as it could be for a witch. But what if a simple discovery could flip her world upside down. What if there were secrets that could change everything she knew to be true!
...
f...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I groaned as the morning sunlight beat down on my face, interrupting me from my sleep. I yawned and tugged my blanket over my head.
"Finally, you're awake!" Hermione exclaimed.
"No, I'm not," I muttered.
"Come on, Ella! You can't sleep the day away! It's Christmas!"
I felt a chill come over me and my eyes snapped open. Hermione was pulling off my blankets and folding them neatly.
"Hermione, please! I'm freezing!"
"You have to get up! Don't you want to at least open your presents?"
If there was one thing that could convince me to get out of bed, it was presents.
I reached for the first box and tore it open. It was another jumper from Mrs. Weasley.
I looked over and noticed that Hermione didn't have a jumper from Molly. In fact, I couldn't remember if she had ever gotten one before. But I figured it would be rude to ask, so I pushed the thought aside.
The next package said it was from my mother. When I opened it, I found another book and a note.
My Dear Ella, I know how much you loved the poetry book I gave you last year. This one is another one of my favorites, and I know you'll enjoy it. I miss you so much, please write to me soon! Have a great time at the ball! Love, Mum
I didn't ever bother to tell my mum that poetry wasn't really my thing. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, especially after figuring out that she had charmed the book to give me advice.
I took the book and flipped to the first page.
Life is unpredictable, It changes with the seasons, Even your coldest winter, Happens for the best of reasons, And though it feels eternal, Like all you'll ever do is freeze, I promise spring is coming, And with it, brand new leaves.
~e.h
Just like always, the poem made no sense. I threw the book aside and picked up a small envelope with my name on it.
I tore it open and a small piece of paper fell out.
It was a photograph of my mother. She was sitting in our kitchen, grinning at whoever was behind the camera.
I flipped the photo over and read the date: 12 October, 1979.
