Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or anything to do with the wonderful world that J.K. Rowling created. :
"Aurora Alexandra Potter, you get yourself down here this instant!"
Such a pleasant sound to wake up to in the morning, isn't it? Mother dearest always wakes me up in some uncivilized way. I mean, I can't help it if I'm a sound sleeper!
I suppose I should start off from the very beginning. Although I can assure you that I won't go into any details about my wonderful birth, because even that makes me want to throw up. I don't see anything wondrous about popping a child out of you. I'm getting off topic though. My name, as you probably could have guessed, is Aurora Potter. Rory for short, and if you mention the Potter part, I'll murder you. I'm seventeen years old, and I totally hate life. Ah, how melodramatic, right? Well, if you knew half of my history, you'd understand. Hermione control-freak Granger, is my mother. My dearest mother whom I love so very much. And of course, Harry Potter is my father. Although I'd deny it if someone asked me in public. The publicity isn't fun, contrary to popular belief.
"Aurora! Don't make me drag you out of your bed young lady!"
Okay, before my mother has a total conniption, we'll just fast forward to the present. Don't worry, I'll fill you in with all the juicy details when I feel it's appropriate.
"Rory! Honey, come on. Please come downstairs!"
Ah, the pleading voice of Ms. Granger. It never gets old. In fact, I wait for it until I oblige to do whatever ridiculous thing she asks of me.
"We're going to be late for one of Molly's dinners!"
That's why her undies were all in a bundle. Molly Weasley's annual dinners. Once a month, Molly forced her family, and us to come to a dinner at her house. Usually I got out of it, but this time Harry would be there. Poor me. Harry and my mother, the two best friends while attending Wizarding School, were no longer on speaking terms. I think it's bloody brilliant, personally, but everyone else thinks that it is a crying shame.
"I'm awake." I replied in my early morning raspy voice. One thing that you had to know about Molly. You couldn't just go there for dinner, like planned. No, you had to spend the whole day with her. Don't get me wrong now. Molly is like the grandmother that I never had. You know, the one that always cooks, cleans, frets, and constantly looks after you. I love her for it. I really do! Sometimes she just gets a tad bit annoying. That's why, on this marvelous July day, I'd much rather be spending bonding time in my bed, rather then with the Weasleys.
"Don't fall back asleep, Rory!" I didn't think that this caused for a remark, so I simply rolled my eyes, and shook my head. A groan escaped from me as I saw that straight raven black hair fall in my eyes. Of all the things to get cursed with, it was my father's looks. Oh right! I almost forgot to tell you why Harry Potter is my worst enemy. Well, you see, it started when my parents were supposed to be in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Instead, however, they went on some insane search for Horcruxes, or something like that. Apparently my father and mother had sex, and therefore I came to exist. So basically I was a huge mistake. Since then, my father and I don't get along. He never shows up when he's supposed to, and he is the most unreliable person in the whole wide world.
Climbing out of my bed, with a pout on my face, I walked over to my closet, and opened the door. For a girl of seventeen, I didn't have much enthusiasm about clothes. I suppose I took on my mother's aspect on fashion. Thank Merlin I had my mother's personality. No, I'm not some mean snotty know-it-all, but I am rather smart. Therefore, I am a Ravenclaw. That was probably the biggest disappointment of my father's pathetic life. Score for Rory! You should have seen the crest fallen look on his face when he found out that his only daughter didn't make it into his house. Aww, poor Harry. He makes me sick.
Deciding on wearing black pants, and a white shirt, I made my way over to my makeup draw. My mother always told me to look nice on these trips to the Burrow. Under any other conditions, I would have protested, and dug out a pair of old, ripped jeans, and a tee-shirt that would be five sizes to big for her. Today was different. Harry would be there, and I knew that mum had enough on her plate. Dealing with a rebellious seventeen year old would not put her in a better mood.
Without another though, I took the lid off of my eyeliner, and applied it skillfully on my eyelid. You see, I always layered it on there. I figure that it'll make my eyes look less green. Is that pathetic? I continued pouring it on, until I was satisfied that the attention wouldn't be on what color eyes I had, but rather what the heck I was thinking by putting on so much eyeliner. I was a carbon copy of my father. A mini Harry, if you will. It's so embarrassing to be known as The Boy Who Lived's daughter. Really, if I had this choice when I was first born, I think I'd rather pick death then live in the public's eye. Every move I make, some reporter has to pick up on it. I suppose that some people have nothing better to do then read about the woes of Harry Potter's daughter. They need to get lives, if you ask me.
"Rory! I'm begging you here! We need to leave! Don't forget that we have to travel by Floo! If you remember right, someone didn't pass their Apparation test!"
And I would never live that down. It wasn't my fault I had the meanest instructor in the world! I left a shoe behind, and I failed. See how unfair that is? I never had the guts to go back since. I'm Rory! I don't fail things. I'm the one who got all O's on her O.W.L.'s, thank you very much! I don't fail anything, especially simple Apparation tests.
"Fine! I'm coming!" I replied, in a mood that showed I wasn't enthusiastic about leaving any time soon.
With my pout still in check, I stomped down the stairs, and walked into the living room, where my mother was already standing half way in the fireplace.
"Must you pout like a spoiled three year old? Come along now. Take some powder! We haven't got all day."
Of course she'd come out and say something like that. If I was the one acting like a three year old, then why was she the one who kept fretting about seeing Harry? Honestly, that woman confused me sometimes. I hoped I'd never turn out like her.
Sending her a glare, I grabbed some powder, and was about to say 'The Burrow', but the phone rang. Now you might think it strange for witches to have a phone, but my mother always brought muggle appliances into the house. Carefully, I sent my mother a grin, and placed the powder back in the bag where I had taken it out of.
"Now it would be rude not to answer the phone, wouldn't it?" I asked her, a look of complete innocence gracing my face.
"Oh dear. Make it quick, okay?"
"Of course." And with that, I pranced out of the fireplace and picked up the phone, more then welcoming the phone call.
"Hello?" I giggled softly as I heard my best friend on the other line. Hayden Wood , son of Oliver Wood, and Cho Chang. Let's call it revenge, shall we? The first time I met him, I admit that my goal was to befriend him, only because my father loathed his mother. But I actually started liking him as a friend, and we've been the best of friends since our first year. He, obviously, had a phone also. I think I convinced him to get one in our third year, when I told him I was going to die without human contact, when I had to spend the whole week with my father.
"Rory!"
At the hint of exasperation in my mother's voice, I held a finger out to her, and mouthed 'one minute'. I sent her a small apologetic smile, realizing that my phone call would probably cause us to arrive at the Burrow last. I knew how much she hated to arrive someplace last, especially when attention would be on her. Especially Harry's attention.
"Not yet. No. I'm leaving now." I paused for a minute, and I rolled my eyes at him, even though he couldn't see it. "If you don't call me within an hour, Hayden, then I'm going to kill you. I won't be able to survive in a room with my father for more then twenty minutes!" Boy was that true.
"Aurora!" I noticed my mother stomp her foot, and couldn't help but smirk at the little notion. She could be as much of child as I could.
"Promise you'll call me?" I waited for Hayden's reply, and smiled as he gave in to my plea. "Thank you. I have to go before my mother explodes." With that I hung up my cell phone, and placed it in my pocket.
Stepping back into the fireplace, I took the powder, and dropped it as I said "The Burrow", in a clear voice.