Rose Walker. 15 years old. Ravenclaw House. Witch.
Rebecca Collins. 15 years old. Hogsmeade Village. Squib.
I lied, straight to his face. And it didn't feel that bad. I sat down at my favourite place - a big rock a short walk into the forest above the Shrieking Shack. For about an hour I'd been walking around in the forest, but there would be another hour before the students started to leave the village and I could go home. I just couldn't stand the Hogwarts students. I hated them. They were always so loud, and the streets were full of them during their Hogsmeade weekends. The shops were crowded, the pubs were hot and sweaty and not even my own home was free from the loud voices and laughs from the streets outside. I can't think when they are around, so I always get out. Usually I just wander around in the forest or bring a book and sit here, on my big rock, and read.
I am the only one in Hogsmeade who don't like Hogwarts students. Everyone else love
them. All they see is happiness, emptied out shelves, curious and excited students and overflowed cash registers. I turned around, facing the Hogwarts castle.
My thoughts went to Nathan. He had been nice to me. He wasn't loud. My stomach felt like it was being dragged into a black hole. I had actually talked to one of them. He didn't suspect a thing. To him, I was just like any other Hogwarts student. Rose Walker, Ravenclaw. No, I did not feel bad for lying. I felt free. Being someone else, just for a couple of minutes. I had been one of them, just visiting Hogsmeade, returning back to the great hall for dinner tonight.
He would be looking for me, of course. And I wouldn't be there.
My mum was convinced I would be a Ravenclaw. I learned how to read when I was three years old, only by studying the books mum would read for me. When I started school, homeschooled like all the other children in Hogsmeade, my neighbour Mrs Murray had taken the responsibility to be my teacher, since my mother worked. One day when I sat in her living room practicing spelling she fell asleep in her worn out armchair. When mum came to get me she woke up and I had finished three chapters in my spelling book, all by myself. I loved to learn and was a quick study.. Soon I didn't need Mrs Murray's help at all, even if I still went to her house to study. I became my own teacher and quickly learned how to make up problems, think through them and solve them. I mastered math, english, geography and science all by myself.
"You are going to be a Ravenclaw, just like me," mum would say. But I turned eight, and nothing happened. I turned nine, but there were no signs of magic. Not a spark. When I turned ten, we both gave up. We didn't really talk about it, but mum gave me a book about squibs that had been dusting on our bookshelf for about two years. I guess she knew already. I was not going to Hogwarts, and that was that.
But it's okay. I survived. I laid down on the rock. The sky was getting dark. In about half an hour the students would return back to the castle and I would go down to the village. I had to prepare something for dinner, since mum had stayed at work today. I just didn't know what to make. I sighed.
What would Nathan do, when he didn't see me at dinner? What would he think? I said I was a loner, so he could just assume I was not in the mood for dinner. Or that I ate in Hogsmeade before returning to the castle. And if he thought that, maybe he wouldn't be too sad.
Why would he be sad to not see me? We only talked for a couple of minutes. He would forget all about me in just a couple of days. I wasn't important, just some Ravenclaw girl. Rose Walker. Loner and weirdo.
Of course, I couldn't give him my real name. When I turned eleven my friends all went to Hogwarts. After that they all seemed to forget about me. We say hi when we see each other on the streets in summer breaks, but no one ever stops to talk or hang out anymore. I guess I am not interesting anymore. But of course they would still recognize my name if some Hufflepuff boy started talking about me. And then everyone would know about me. A liar, a squib. A wannabe.
I looked at my watch. It was time to go home. I could see the stream of Hogwarts students from here, returning through the iron gate outside the castle. I wasn't going to cry again, one time's enough. Let them return to their huge castle full of magical spells and wonderful food, I don't care. I got to see my mother every night, and maybe tonight we would eat at the Three Broomsticks. Yes, that'd be nice. Then I wouldn't have to cook. After dinner we would have butter beer and listen to today's gossip. It would be just the two of us, and it would be great. Who needs magic, anyway.