The wives of Appletree Lane all agreed on one thing, though it was never said aloud: the best way to spend Saturday afternoons was to sit out in the backyard and peek into the neighbors windows. The scenes displayed on the other side of the window were often the source for gossip, scandals and other deliciously horrible things.
This is why it was such a disappointment for Mrs. Gordon when the Jones family moved in next door six years ago. Mrs. Gordon, you see, had the biggest mouth on Appletree Lane, and it was impossible to shut. Mrs. Gordon had hoped that this new Jones family had some awful secret that she could share with her sister Dora. But the Jones family was, simply stated, hideously normal.
It consisted of Sam Jones, Rosa Jones and their rather plain daughter Megan. Mrs. Gordon could not have been more depressed. Sam was never discovered cheating with another woman, Rosa didn't smuggle or sell anything illegal, and Megan was well behaved and reserved. To add on to this, the family had no growling dogs, or pet gorillas.
No, the Jones seemed to be the most normal family on the street. Well, unknown to Mrs. Gordon, the Jones family was half magical. Rosa was a witch- in fact, she didn't really work in a department store; she actually worked in Dervish and Banges. And she carried a wand in her back pocket. Plus, her daughter Megan didn't really attend an all- girls boarding school in Wales, but rather Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. At least Sam Jones was normal- he was a children's doctor.
Yes, if Mrs. Gordon had known any of this her mouth would have exploded in trying to tell all the other neighbors as quickly as possible. But Rosa had done the most marvelous job of concealing all signs of magic in their spotless home. And now that Megan had turned thirteen, there were still no boyfriends or other interesting things or people involved in her life. The only thing that Mrs. Gordon could complain about concerning Megan was that she had lately been playing music very loudly in her second story bedroom.
Although Megan was embarrassed to admit it, she had always been rather fond of the muggle band Fleetwood Mac. And on the morning of August the 28th, she was playing their cd on her stereo while rummaging through her closet for her robes. Her mother had always told her to keep them at the back of the closet, in case one of her muggle friends should see them. But now it was finally time for Megan to re-enter the wizarding world, and she wouldn't have to worry about lying to any of her muggle friends. She finally pulled out a bright blue set of robes that were a bit wrinkled.
Megan's room consisted of a bed, a bedside table, and three bookshelves that were near to falling over under the weight of so many books. In a small corner there was a cage, in which a rather fat rat sat munching on something. Then there was a closet, besides the door. Inside this closet, behind all the muggle clothes and shoes, there was a cauldron, and a collection of heavy books with titles such as Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and Hogwarts, A History.
Megan combed her long brown hair and frowned in the mirror. She had brown eyes and a rather long face with a few freckles. A few too many, in her opinion.
Today she and her mum were going to Diagon Alley to get her schoolbooks for the new school year- her third year at Hogwarts. Megan could clearly remember when she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts just two years ago. Her mother had cried, she was so proud. Mr. Jones hadn't really been able to understand all the fuss, but he was quite amazed at the fact that his daughter was perfectly capable of doing magic. Not everybody's daughter could wave a wand, say a few words, and make just about anything happen. It had been a wonderful experience, and her parents had given her special congratulation presents. Mrs. Jones had, after all, thought that her only child might be a squib.
Before Megan got accepted to Hogwarts, she used to go to a rather ordinary muggle school, where the other children called Megan "freckle-face" and the teachers complained about how Megan never spoke up in class, while her essays and tests clearly showed that she was a clever girl. What those teachers didn't understand was that Megan rarely answered questions because she couldn't. She knew the answers, usually, but her hand refused to move, and her mouth turned to sandpaper. Then there was also the weight of knowing that her family was different. She had been to the other girls' homes- their mothers spent several hours cooking a decent meal, whereas her mother could make the same dinner in half an hour.
Another disadvantage of muggle schools was the dreaded parent-teacher conference. During it, the teacher would lecture Megan on not being nervous in front of the class, and then, as if to prove she really was a good teacher, she would show Rosa a test on which Megan had gotten 95. Rosa's reaction was always disappointing:
"Megan, sweetie, ninety-five? I don't know what's gotten into you lately- you should be getting a hundred! From now on I want you to study for at least ten minutes every day, okay? We can raise this grade together." The teacher would always look so disappointed.
"Megan, sweetheart, hurry up!" The voice floated up from downstairs and into Megan's room.
She ran down the stairs and smiled at her mother. Rosa scrutinized her face carefully. Then she pulled out a tissue from her pocket, licked on it, and rubbed it up against Megan's forehead. "Mum…"
"Be quiet, darling, there's something on your forehead and it won't go away."
Megan always hated when her mother used saliva to clean her, as if they were monkeys. She always felt cleaner before her mother did anything of the sort.
Megan had always loved Diagon alley. The babble of voices, the smells, the excitement of people everywhere, the owls screeching, the shop signs, and of course- the shops themselves. Small havens filled with everything imaginable under a particular title; books, wands, cauldrons, ingredients and brooms. It was all just so exhilarating.
As they walked through Diagon Alley, occasionally wandering in and out of shops, carrying more and more shopping bags.
"Rosa! Megan! Rosa!" a shrill voice cried from behind them.
Mother and daughter turned around to see a rather plump woman with a squashed face come closer.
"Ah, Phyllis! How lovely to see you," replied Megan's mother.
Phyllis and Rosa kissed each others cheeks and Phyllis turned to Megan. "Oh, Megan, you just get taller every time I see you! You'll be a pretty young woman some day!"
Phyllis smiled down at Megan, who managed a small smile while wondering why adults had to say such ridiculous things. Megan was sure that Phyllis knew that she was not getting any taller- her legs firmly refused to grow.
"Oh, Rosa, have you heard? Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban! It's dreadful- no ones ever done it before," shrieked Phyllis.
"Yes I have heard! It's terrible! How can anyone get past those horrible dementors?"
"I don't know!" then she lowered her voice. "Have you told Megan?"
Yes, Megan had been told. She knew very well of all the fuss. And, like all the other witches and wizards, she was just as fearful. She was perfectly alarmed at the signs on the shop windows, the ministry officials, and the Daily Prophet headlines. She had also noticed her mother's hysteria when the news broke out.
"Oh, yes, and I feel so sorry for her- after all, how are we supposed to live a happy, normal life, when maniacs like him are running around?" Phyllis and Rose both clucked their tongues, sounding like two old hens. "It's the ministry's fault, of course." Both nodded their heads in agreement.
It was typical of the wizarding world- there was a major problem, scandal, or something more or less dreadful, it was a mutual agreement that it was all the ministry's fault. Who else was to take the blame, anyway?
"And Megan is such a sensitive girl, you know," Rosa continued. "She thinks about things- how will this ever affect her, poor thing?" Phyllis looked at Megan with sorrowful eyes.
If there was one thing that Megan hated, it was how adults had a tendency to talk about her as if she wasn't there. As if she was too young to understand. She had been once, but as she grew older it became more and more irritating. Megan wasn't one to express opinions easily, so people had a tendency to forget her presence, or treat her as a younger child- which, in her mind, she was not. She believed that she could have quite mature thoughts, and do advanced things. Megan briefly wondered if listening to the pop groups of her parents' teenage years was considered mature. Her thoughts wandered on, as the women continued discussing Sirius Black; slowly, their voices turned into a blur, as her thoughts crossed her brand new quill that she was dying to use, her rat Addy, who got too much to eat this morning, and slowly to the night before, when she tripped over her cauldron and bonked her nose into the floor. That had really hurt. Her nose had gotten quite red, which was a shame, seeing as it was so freckled that people generally noticed it. Luckily she hadn't started bleeding, though she suspected that-
"Megan? Megan!" Megan snapped out of her daydream. "Phyllis just asked you if you were looking forward to your new school year."
As Rosa and Megan entered Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions, Rosa gasped. "Oh, Megan!" She cried, dashing across the floor to claim a bright pink set of robes from the rack. "Isn't this lovely? I love it! It would be so wonderful for daily wear, you know?" She held it up against Megan, and then sighed. "If only you weren't so plain." Rosa turned around and put the bright pink robes back on the rack.
Those side comments of Rosa's had existed as long as Megan could remember, and each one was as crushing as the previous. Rosa had never meant any harm by it, and rarely even noticed how that small statement had hurt her daughter. But Megan had gotten used to one thing- no matter what; she would never be good enough for her mother. No matter how many 95 she would ever get, she would never be good enough- never perfect. Her hair didn't curl, her eyes didn't have any particular sparkle, her nose was long and normal, she had no outrageous sense of style, she was, in her mothers eyes, plain. Just that. Plain. And Megan knew it.
"Why, hello, Mrs. Jones, Miss Jones, how might I help you?" It was Madam Malkin, a fake smile plastered to her face. Megan could never understand how shop owners kept up those smiles. Maybe they took a class to learn just how to keep a sickingly sweet smile on their faces.
"Megan needs new school robes, her old ones got ripped, and no matter how much I fix them, they'll never be perfect again." Rosa said.
"Tsk, tsk," was Madam Malkin's reply.
Madam Malkin measured Megan, and then made a noise in her throat. "This much I can say- in one year you've grown half a centimeter. Half! I've rarely seen a thirteen year old grow so slowly as you!"
Not only were her legs not growing, but Megan had noticed that while the other girls had started growing in the upper part of their bodies, her chest remained as flat as pancake. It was, really, quite unfortunate. The way she was so remarkably commonplace. Especially in comparison with the other girls.