Children of the Revolution: Year One

Chapter 2 - Genevieve Rosier

THE time was 10:00, on the dot, and I had already packed all my things up. Due to my mother's undying punctuality, I made sure to be ahead of schedule in order to adhere to her standards. My two trunks were on my bed, filled with clothes that were nicely folded inside. I carefully counted and made sure everything was in order, "Alright, pants, shirts, socks, jumpers, and sweatshirts-" I muttered to myself, tucking a dark curl behind my ear.

Just as I finished fastening my trunk closed, my mother's voice called out, "Genevieve, darling, it's time to go!"

I looked up just as she opened my bedroom door. I nodded once and finished up with my trunks before I did my best to carry them off the bed and to my mother.

Mother received one of my trunks, leaving the other for me to handle. She carried the trunk out into the hall before she cleared her throat, "Pimsey!" She yelled, loudly. With a crack, the short creature appeared, cowering next to my mother. She paid barely a second of her time to the creature, dropping my trunk before it. The creature whimpered, gaining a venomous glare from my mother. "Pimsey," she began once more, "Take the trunks to the sitting room. Do not bump into the wall again, or else I will leave you to Tobkey's will again." She hissed. Pimsey flinched and scurried to grab the trunk from my mother. I held my trunk out for the creature and it disappeared with another crack.

My mother mumbled under her breath about the stupidity of the house elf, but I ignored her in favor of taking one more look around me before I would be off for school for months.

The Rosier Manor was grand and beautiful. Each room carried high ceilings, shiny dark wood floors, priceless art pieces, family heirlooms, and most importantly generations of rich, family history and wealth. The Manor was made up of assortments of deep browns, white, and teals, a color palette that also made up a majority of my late grandmother's closet. I was grateful mother never instilled the idea of carrying on her drab wardrobe. Despite this, I still owned more than a few family crest pins made up of the teal and brown emblem and a collection of robes embroidered in white and teal detailing.

The manor spanned a few acres, creating a perfect open space for a young girl to explore and play, even alone. Tutors had their own dedicated teaching room, a room that would now be laid dormant as I left for school. My own bedroom, one of the room's I would miss most dearly, was just as grand as the rest of the house, but held enough of my own personal touch that it felt, admittedly, less claustrophobic and sterile.

The Rosier Manor lay on a plot of land miles out from other Manors, leaving my family isolated, just as other pureblood families lived. I had no desire to live any other life, truthfully, although it would have never hurt to grow up with more companionship than a select few other pureblood children. Well, perhaps a kneazle would have been appreciated.

I walked closely with my mother down the hall, mimicking her strict posture and holding my chin high. I wondered if other children had lessons on manners and the intricate ways of presenting oneself. I held back a snort.

Of course they didn't.

We descended down a long staircase, making our way to the sitting room where I could only assume my father would be waiting.

I knew my mother wished to hold onto our stern, silent pace, but a question itched at the back of my mind. "Mother," I started carefully, ignoring her resigned sigh, "What if I don't fit in?" I asked her as we walked down the staircase.

"Any daughter of mine would have no such concerns," She stated, tone bland, "And if any such doubts lie in your mind, I might wonder just how much Rosier blood you truly have." I did my best to hide my wince and tried my hardest to fall back into pace with her, but my nerves were now heightened and a deep feeling of shame was growing within me.