Brave { Neville Longbottom}

Chapter One*

Birthdays were always a large celebration in the Walsh family, especially when it came to celebrating Kefira's birthday. When the doctor had informed Cardel and Alana that their youngest had been born so prematurely that he wasn't sure that she would live through the night let alone a year, the parents were devastated.

Cardel remembered sitting in the hospital room as his wife had fallen asleep from pure exhaustion, looking down at the newborn. Her eyes were closed and her breathing faint but as he leaned in, he pressed his ear against her small chest and listened to her heartbeat.

For a child who had born so early and the doctors claimed to be so weak, her heart beat was strong. He lifted his head and took her tiny hand in his, in an instant, the baby gripped onto his finger and held on.

He couldn't help but laugh as her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened emitting a slight noise.

"You're a little warrior, aren't you?" he whispered.

Kefira lived through the night and proved her doctors wrong every year when she celebrated her birthday.

Cardel had been the one to name the youngest after his wife had named their three eldest daughters.

He had chosen Kefira as it translated to "lion cub" and he thought it was the perfect name for his little warrior.

Kefira lacked in height in comparison to where her sisters had been back at her age, and while she was small, many people made the mistake to underestimate how much power was packed into the girl.

Normally when they learned about her feisty nature, it was too late.

Rosemary was the eldest of the Walsh daughters and took her duty to look after her younger siblings very seriously. However, Kefira didn't make her job easy when she was getting into trouble, constantly. But all the Walsh sisters shared a close bond, even if they were different in personalities, they remained supportive of each other.

On that particular August morning, Rosemary awoke and tiptoed to Kefira's room while everyone else in the home was still asleep. It was Kefira's eleventh birthday and Rosemary wanted to be the first one to wake her and wish her a happy birthday.

Entering the girl's bedroom, Rosemary made her way over to Kefira's bedside observing the lump hidden beneath the covers.

She snuck up and launched an all out tickle war, only to discover that she was tickling a pillow.

"What in the wor-" she glanced up to see the bedroom window open.

"Kefi." she sighed sitting on the bed, blowing her dark locks from her face.

Enjoying the warm morning sun, Kefira climbed to the top of the large tree that overlooked the land. The sun reflected against her hair, giving her the appearance of a fiery glow. Birthdays were big to her family, that was true, but Kefira, she never understood the significance of such a celebration. It was only a day out of the year, and she never felt different on the day even if she was considered a year older.

She heard her name being called from inside the house, the voice belonging to her sister, Rosemary. The front door opened and she watched from her perch, as Rosemary made her way over to the tree.

"Why are you always up in that tree?" Rosemary asked her, the seventeen-year-old placing her hands on her hips.

"Why are you always on the ground?" Kefira quipped with a grin.

"Because I'm normal, Kefi."

"Sounds terrible."

"Will you get down here so I can wish you a proper happy birthday?"

"You could come up here!"

"Remember the last time I tried."

Kefira thought back to the moment where her sister had unsuccessfully attempted to climb the tree and wound up with so many cuts and bruises.

"Alright, I'm coming down. Calm yourself, lady."

Like all the other birthdays, Kefira was nearly squeezed to death by her mother while her father made the typical dad jokes about her growing old.

Rosemary, along with her other sisters, Lottie and Nellie fawned over her, occasionally teasing her about something embarrassing she had managed to do over the years.

The entire time, Kefira's focus was just on what kind of cake her mother was making her. Her mother made the best birthday cakes and never made the same one twice.

Kefira could only hope that year's cake involved chocolate.

Cardel walked behind her chair and knelt down and kissed the top of her hair, almost getting buried in her poofy curls that had managed to escape the braid her mother had made in her hair earlier.

She swung her legs back and forth under the chair she sat in while her mother left to the kitchen to check on the cake when she heard a tapping noise come from the back door.

Rising to her feet, Kefira left to investigate.

"Kefi?" her father called after her, but she didn't respond.

Opening the door, Kefira tilted her head as a peculiar looking man, with a stern expression stood in the doorway. Upon seeing the little one in the doorway, his left brow rose with a questioning look.

"Who are you?" she blurted out instantly.

"Are you Kefira Walsh?"

"You answer my question first," Kefira said crossing her arms defiantly. "Who are you?"

Her emerald gaze taking in the man's longer black hair and stoic features.

Before she could pester the man again for his name, Cardel appeared her, protectively placing his hand on Kefira's shoulder, and pulling her back into him.

"Can I help you?" Cardel asked the man dressed in all black robes.

The man didn't say anything as he pulled an envelope from the inside of his robe and held it out to the father.

It was addressed to Kefira Walsh.