Annabelle was excited. She'd woken up exceptionally early, more early than usual. Not that waking early in her Slytherin dormitory was out of the ordinary, Annabelle was a morning person and didn't the other girls know it.
She wasn't the sort of girl to sleep all morning on a weekend she wanted to get up, make the most of the time she had - after all, time really was little. Of course Annabelle hadn't always been like this, she'd once slept in until three o clock in the afternoon before her Grandma had died... Before her Grandma had died.
The death of Ariana Carrow had changed Annabelle. Not drastically, just slightly. She was still outgoing, adventurous, somewhat troublesome and always enjoyed a gossip. Although the death of her Grandmother had made her realise time is precious. That death is inevitable and that the thought of it scares the magic out of her. She's brave, for a Slytherin she's incredibly brave, so brave the sorting hat thought about sorting her into Gryffindor for a moment. In the end, however, it had cried 'SLYTHERIN!'
Slytherin had served her well. Annabelle had only been part of the house for a month but already she'd made friends, some nicer than the friends she'd had back in France before her Grandma's death, but mostly not. Not that this information could account for anything, they'd only known each other for a month. There had seven years to go, and who knows what could happen in that time.
Marching across the pitch the Slytherin noticed an inflatable box, thing? It reminded her of a muggle bouncy castle that the French muggle's had once had at a birthday party.
Annabelle had grew up in France. During the second wizard war Ariana Carrow had fell pregnant and fled to France to avoid the discrimination from her brother and sister. Not that Annabelle was aware of this, Ariana had protected her grandaughter's sweet ears from this fact.
In fact, if it wasn't for Ariana's passing Annabelle would be at Beauxbatons, she was all set to go their, after all that's where her Mother had attended. Unfortunately Abigail Carrow had taken her daughter Annabelle to Britain after her Mother's funeral to escape the place that felt so dark without the Mother, Grandmother and their friend.
It helped Annabelle. Not having to be where her Grandmother had died, it allowed her not to dwell as much. Yet, it still had changed her daughter - well, it would be odd if it hadn't considering how close the pair were.
Whilst Abigail worked Ariana taught Annabelle how to read, write, cook, brew potions (the later of which Annabelle was absolutely awful at so stayed away from) and how to fly. Annabelle was in her element. This was the class she was looking forward to, the class that would bring her the joy she'd felt with her Grandmother hovering around a French field not far from their cottage.
Annabelle was by no means a phenomenal flier but she was good for a first year. She could summon the broom, mount the broom and hover - move and hover too. There was just once thing, she'd never manage to go higher than a hover without falling, perhaps that came with practice and there had been limited practice due to people possibly seeing them. Ariana had made sure they never went higher than a hover, it would simply look like they were holding sticks from afar that way.
Grasping a broomstick, it's twigs sticking out at odd angles and the handle slightly chipped, Annabelle made her way to the Professor. 'I'm Annabelle.' She greeted with an eager smile as she held the old broom with some sort of respect. Today was the day she would get to fly (hopefully). Her Grandmother wasn't here to finish the lesson but hopefully she'd be watching over. Or at least Annabelle liked to think so.
Taking a position besides a girl in Ravenclaw robes Annabelle laid her broom besides her and beamed at the girl. 'Hi, my names Annabelle!' She loved to meet people. 'Have you done any flying before?'
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