The One For Me ~ Fred Weasley FanFiction

2 ~ Black Cat

My hands are shaking. I open the mailbox. A letter. A letter with a red seal.

"Hogwarts...", I mumbled to myself. I ran into the house screaming as loud as I could. "Mom, mom, I got a letter!" She hurried in my direction, snatching the letter out of my hands before I could read any further. "Dejame ver! (Let me see!)" I whine. Worry penetrated her eyes. Something was definitely off.

"Ama!" I whined. She scolded a very harsh no at me. I stand over her shoulder and begin to read the letter with her.

"Dear Ms. Preto, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." 

I took several steps back. What the hell? Me? A witch? It can't be. I'm just the weird girl at the back of the class. Nothing else. Magic, witches, and a school? It all seems so surreal.

I look up to see mom, to realize that she's in her room. I run down the hall to her door and find it locked. I press my ear to the door, listening for any details. She's rambling in her worried, panicked voice. I can't follow the conversation. If only I could open this damn door. After about a minute of rambling, I finally hear a name I recognize, "Martha'', my aunt. Why was she calling my aunt?

"Me dijeron que nunca iba ir a esa escuela por lo de su papá. Y hoy llegó su letra, DOS AÑOS TARDE. Que voy a hacer? Tienes que venir, por favor. No se como le voy a decir. (They told me she was never going to go to that school due to her father. And today her letter arrives, TWO YEARS LATE. What am I going to do? You have to come over here, please. I don't know how I'm going to tell her.)," I could hear the lump in her throat and the tears falling down her cheeks.

I make my way to our small living room. Staring at the floor, trying to understand everything. My father? My father was a mean abusive drunk that made my life a living hell for twelve years. He drank away everything. Money, love, empathy, sympathy, but the one thing he didn't drink away was anger. Sometimes at night, I can still hear his loud screams, I can still feel the bruises on my body, and the emptiness that came with all of it. He died a month after my twelfth birthday. That day brought me complete numbness. I didn't know what to feel. I'm still not sure, but one thing I do feel is anger. Anger towards him and everything he put us through. A year later I still feel all of the anger and I shouldn't, he's dead. This just couldn't be about him. He was nothing special. It just couldn't, I refuse to believe.

I wipe the tears from my eyes. Looking up from the floor, searching for answers. As if they're going to be in my living room. I try taking my mind off things. I look out the window that sits in front of the small dining table and notice a black cat staring inside the house. The cat sat on the sidewalk. It kept its head level, eyes blinked every once in a while. This is just great.

First the owl, then letter, now this damn cat! It scurried along when it saw my Tia (aunt) Martha coming. She rang the doorbell, I was hesitant to let her in, but decided I should or else mom will. I don't have the heart to see her cry right now. She greets me with the biggest and warmest hug. She always gave the kind of hugs that you'd want to stay in for hours, the ones that make you melt. This was just what I needed. I pulled off of her.

"You must have a million questions and I promise to try and answer as many as I can." I nodded. "Where's your mom?" I point toward her room. She made her way down the hall and knocked on her door. The door opened and greeted my mom with a hug. I sat down at the kitchen table.

The cat was back. Only this time it layed on the concrete. . .