(mark 2, as it happens. we've undergone a re-write here)
I decided this fic wasn't up to par, so I re-did it. Expect massive re-postings, and hey- what novelty- new chapters!
Please r&r, I love it when I get feeback, good or bad.
That said, if this is craptacular to your tastes, please tell me what it is that makes it so. Then I can fix it, and hopefully become a better writer, yay!
Of course, I'm not completely adverse to anyone showering me with praise, either...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. (can someone please tell me if we don't actually have to do this? I mean, who would think that I do own that ludicrously lucrative franchise that is Harry Potter? cough not bitter at all... cough)
Je m'appelle Florence Amelie Ames.
But you can call me Flo.
I'm French. (Well done if you worked it out.)
But I'm also a triplet.
Not as myself, obviously. I'm the very youngest of five.
My oldest sibling is Guillame Etienne. I call him Guy. He's tall, got dirty blonde hair, and the trademark Ames children blue eyes.
Next down is Capucine Marie- Cina, with her perfectly crimped, light blonde shoulder-length hair and immaculate nails, skin and dress sense.
Then, there's the three. Adrien Jaques, Didier Luc, et moi. All three dull blonde, sparkly blue eyed, and depending on the amount of sun, vaguely freckly- the only facial difference being the width of our lips (mine are distinctly girlish), and of course, hairstyles. Adrien- short; Didier- shaggy; Me: plaited down to my waist.
We all have completely different personalities, but all five of us are practically the same.
How do you think I feel?
Despite that convolution and confusion, though, I was part of a normal family.
A normal, wizarding family.
We all attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
My Mère worked around our beautiful home in Ariège. My Père was a researcher, a man who liked to experiment.
We worked the farm during our holidays, using magic, mostly. Sometimes we would go into Mirepoix, our closest town, to sell our produce. All the Muggles loved Ames farm produce. They said it was magic, the way even during dry spells or other tough times, our crop always yielded perfection. Well, it was magic, so there.
We all coexisted in the typical dysfunctional family way, Guy, with his unappreciated genius and maturity, kept us levelled. Capucine, with her seemingly endless vanity, made us laugh, and have fun. And as for the triplets, we were close at home, just as close at school.
It wasn't what you'd call the perfect nuclear life, but it was all right by me.
Then, in my third year, a letter arrived.
It was from Guy.
Since leaving school last year he'd been studying English at home. We had figured it was just Christmas cards. But only one piece of parchment was inside.
Cina read it out to us.
And we learned our parents had died.
It was a train crash. A mundane, Muggle train crash. They had both been pronounced 'morts à la scène.'
And it just wasn't fair.
We all came home for Christmas.
It was a sombre affair, spent in black attire and mourning. The funeral was on the 23rd of December. We scattered the ashes across our fields and erected two memorials under the old weeping willow in our back garden. The one we had all, as children, climbed up, fallen out of, and built a cubby in once before it had collapsed on Cina.
We said some words that couldn't express what we really wanted to say, and spent the night camped out next to their little headstones.
And then we went back to school.
It became our sanctuary, a place where suddenly being orphans didn't matter. But when we were alone, without our precious friends, there was a change in us all.
Cina engrossed herself in obscene flirtation, becoming more and more frivolous, uncaring of her reputation. My head was in my studies, usually sitting under the old weeping willow on the lawns. Adrien spent a lot of time climbing the ancient oaks, or swimming in the pools, or running nowhere in particular for no reason in particular. Didier absorbed himself in becoming destructive. He was given detention several times, usually for hexing the legumes at dinnertime so the carrots would jump down your trousers.
It was a neat trick- good for cheering us all up- until it got Capucine. She and Dids got into a huge row, and everything was worse.
The slightest thing would set us all off on our new 'hobbies'. We wrote a lot of letters to Guy, who had become our legal guardian. The school owls were never fast enough to return.
When our friends were around us, we functioned. My best friends, Zoé and Isaac, were the greatest. Isaac lent me Luc when we got annoyed with the School birds, Zoé woke me if I had a nightmare, and hugged me until the tears stopped.
Others were there, too. Noémi and her twin Thierry. Zoé's older brother Zacharie. Even Jean-Claude, Capucine's on-off, on… off-on, off-on-off boyfriend was there for us.
We all stuck together, and we survived.
By the end of the year, we were okay. Well, as okay as you can be having just lost both parents.
We were working as a tight-knit family. Even without our friends, we were good. Everything was good.
On our last day, packing our blue uniforms away for another year, Isaac burst into Zoé and my dormitory.
"C'est une lettre pour vous, Flo."
I took the envelope and tore it open.
Chere, tout le monde.
I've got a new job. It's a great opportunity- more money, nicer work- but it's in London.
So I'm writing this now because we may have to move. To England.
I won't do a thing without you, but it's a really, really great chance for us all.
Hope you're all well,
So that's where I'm going now.
I'm leaving everything, my school, my friends, my home.
What choice was there? In all reality, there was never any choice in it.
The Ames children were going to London.
And that meant we were going to Hogwarts.