Prologue

She stood near the window, her breath fogging up the frost-covered pane. It was a cold day, and her teachers were talking inside the classroom, and she was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Mais ils sont prets!" (But they are ready!) For what? The girl thought, confused.

"Nous devons leur apprendre à réellement défendre!" (We need to actually teach them to defend!) the girl stood, worried. Were they entering into a battle soon? She took out her mahogany wand gingerly out of her burlap bag. If they were, her wand would have to be in good condition.

"Vrai, vrai, bien. Mais les filles vont accepter toute cette formation dure?" (True, true, alright. But will the girls accept all this hard training?) Nervously, the girl opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately the teachers stopped their bickering and shared uneasy looks.

"Bonjour, Camille. Est-ce que tout va bien?" (Hello, Camille. Is everything alright?) The young, pretty French student, called Camille, stepped inside the little room, and shook her head, her lips forming a pout.

"Non, professeur, cette feuille de calcul est beaucoup trop dur!" (No, teacher, this worksheet is much too hard) cried Camille, upset. The teacher gave her a sympathetic look and helped her with some of the problems. Camille left the room soon after, with confidence in her charms skills. However, she was still a bit suspicious about what the two teachers had been conversing about earlier.

Nevertheless, Camille skipped home, a teen, to the little chateau her family owned a little south from Beauxbatons. The road, bumpy from many fresh tire ruts, was an interesting path to take, as it would wind miles and miles down to places never traveled. She opened the door hesitantly, and there stood her mum. Today was the last day of school, and she'd been sure that the teachers were talking about next year's work/defense/practice or whatever it was.

Her mum was a pretty, respectable lady. She worked as a wizarding lawyer at a nearby law firm, and had long, light brown, almost blonde locks with big, full green eyes and a heart-shaped mouth. Her little sister, Amelie, had inherited her good locks from their mum, while Camille took after her dad, a tan, blonde accountant for Gringotts, as one of the few wizarding folk that worked there. He often came back from Scotland to visit, and today was one of them.

"Ah, Camille ! Comment était l'école?" (Ah, Camille! How was school?) Camille smiled reluctantly and told them about her day. Her parents shared looks and Camille waited expectantly for their news.

"Donc, vous vous souvenez comment vous n'aimez pas Beauxbâtons?" (So, you remember how you do

not like Beauxbatons?) Camille nodded. Beauxbatons was often not the best place to go to, as there were many bullies and biased teachers. Also, the boys there just weren't hot! "Eh bien, nous vous transférons à Howarts School of Wizardry , en Ecosse," (Well, we are transferring you to Hogwarts School of Wizardry, in Scotland )

Camille was ecstatic. She'd heard of Hogwarts school. They said that it was the best wizarding school, by far. "Est-ce que je commence là au début si l'année prochaine?" (Do I start at the beginning of next year?)

Her parents said yes. "Votre petite soeur, Amélie, sera à partir de sa première année là aussi!" (Your little sister, Amélie, will be starting her first year there, too!)

Camille grinned. This would be great, after all, Dumbledore was at Hogwarts, wasn't he? She'd heard bits and pieces of gossip in the UK wizarding newspapers that he was offered position as Minister of Magic, but instead declined and the helpless wizard Cornelius Fudge became the minister instead. He must be a great man, she thought to herself.

Amelie came back from Beauxbatons school soon later. She was often mistreated by some of the pureblood teachers, and they constantly taunted her, calling her a "muggle-lover" and other things related to the title. Hence the name "blood traitor." Camille had it easier, because of how many boys favored her.

She went up to her father and hugged him tightly, then sat down her leather satchel and hung it on a neatly polished hook.

"L'école est enfin terminée! Hourrah!" (School is finally over! Hoorah!) she squealed excitedly. Camille flipped her glossy, honey-colored hair over her shoulder.

"Oui, et je suis très excité aussi. Maman, papa, tu vas lui dire les nouvelles, aussi?" (Yes, and I'm very excited too. Mum, dad, are you going to tell her the news, too?)

"Oui , Camille , je suis maintenant . Amélie , vous allez commencer votre troisième année à Hogwarts!" (Yes, Camille, now I am. Amelie, you are going to start your third year Hogwarts!) her mother replied, all the while saying it to Amelie. The youngest Santerre squealed, but then sank back into a murky haze of feelings.

"J'espère qu'ils ne vont pas me taquiner sur notre famille..." (I hope they won't tease me about our family...) she said thoughtfully, probably pondering over many things. Camille sighed and rolled her eyes at Amelie.

"Ils ne vont pas. Crois moi." (They won't. Believe me.) answered Camille with conviction. Amelie smiled at her.

***

The next day, Amelie and Camille received their acceptance letters. Each girl ripped open the letter excitedly, although Camille did try to act sophisticated opening it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF

WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, Class, Grand Sorc., Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Santerre,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The thing was, Amelie and Camille Santerre weren't supposed to receive acceptance letters from Hogwarts. The prestigious school only extended out arms to English and Irish wizards. But the family had heard that Albus Dumbledore was a very kind, fair, and generous man, and so he was, because they were admitted. The father of the so-called "blood traitor" family had pulled some strings while he was in the UK, and somehow, all his effort had worked.

Camille pulled Amelie upstairs, their skirts swishing to the faint breeze that had mysteriously made their way in to the chateau. Their steps the wooden planks fitted into he stairs barely made any sound as the two ambled into Camille's room.

Amelie had no idea where they were going, or why Camille had all of a sudden pulled her upstairs. Suddenly she got very annoyed with Camille, as she was gripping her arm so tight it was turning purple. It was as if she couldn't control her aggravated, jumpy emotions, and Amelie morphed into her animagi form, a beautiful, white arctic fox with a sleek pelt that had faint grey dots flecked in it. A low growl sounded from her throat.

Camille backed up a little. "Qu'est-ce que tu fais? Amelie, pourquoi avez-vous changé les formes?!" (What are you doing? Amelie, why have you changed forms?)

Amelie turned back into her normal self. "Désolé , Camille , mais je me sens comme ... comme quelque chose de mauvais est à venir ... et ça vient notre chemin." (Sorry, Camille, but I feel like... like something bad is coming... And it's coming our way.)

"Eh bien, nous allons Hogwarts et rien de mauvais peut arriver là-bas, à droite?" (Well, we're going to Hogwarts and nothing bad can happen there, right?"