When Luna was sure that the guard had gone, she could breathe easily again. She needed time to think about what she had just been told without worrying about being caught.
My grandmother was like me. She said this over and over in her head, hoping it would sink in and make sense if she repeated it. My grandmother was an Animagus.
Of course, Luna was not an Animagus. She did not have control over her transformations. As she bitterly brooded over the unfairness of this, she heard a rustle. At first, she was nervous, but then she felt herself turning back to Stella. It was a good thing, too, or else the boy who walked into the clearing just then would have been unpleasantly surprised.
He was surprised, though. Evidently, he hadn't been expecting anyone else to be here.
"Hullo," Stella ventured, rather awkwardly.
The boy, however, seemed more self-assured. He also seemed to feel that politeness was suited for lesser mortals, as he said,
"Stupid muggle. Beat it! This is my spot."
Stella regained her powers of speech. "Who're you calling a muggle?" she asked indignantly. "And I do believe this is a public park. I have every right to be here."
The boy went on as if he had not heard the last part. "Nice accent. You don't even know what a muggle is, of course," he said. "Don't they teach you anything at those Australian schools?"
Stella stood up. "A muggle is a human-being who lacks magical powers." She went on despite the look of surprise on his face (which, she noticed, was rather handsome). "I am neither a muggle nor a human being."
"What? What are you, then?"
Stella had not meant to do more than tell the insolent boy off. "Nothing," she muttered. "Nevermind that last bit."
She tried to shove past him.
"Wait," he said, blocking her way. She looked up at him, annoyed, and looked at him for the first time. The boy was not just handsome, but he had the same pale skin and silvery hair that she did, only more blonde.
"Sit down." He motioned towards a bench. "Tell me about yourself. Do you live in England? I don't recall you being in school..."
Stella, as well as being flattered by his interest in her, was to weary to argue and allowed herself to be guided to the bench.
He repeated his question. "Do you go to Hogwarts? I haven't seen you. I'm sure I would remember if I did," he added.
Stella, choosing to ignore the last bit, said, "Actually, I'm starting at Hogwarts this term. I just moved to London from Melbourne in Australia. I used to attend MAM."
"M-A-what?" he said, confused.
"Oh," she said. "It stands for the Melbourne Academy of Magic. It's the best wizarding school in Australia," she added with pride.
He put on his snobbish face again, the face from which he had temporarily taken a rest. "Well, if you're going to Hogwarts, you'd better hope to get into Slytherin. It's the only house worth being in.
"I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be that bad, but Hufflepuff is for idiots and Gryffindor is for idiots who suffer from the delusion that they're heroes. By the way, I'm Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you. I come from one of the most illustrious wizarding families in Britain. Who're you?"
Stella merely goggled at him, baffled. She had never spoken to someone this concieted in her entire life.
"Er...Stella Minor..." she managed to say.
As though he had not even heard this, Draco Malfoy continued, "My father, Lucius Malfoy (you've heard of him, no doubt) practically runs the Ministry of Magic. He's really important. Call me Draco."
She's really pretty, though Draco. I wonder if she'd go out with me.
I'd never go out with him, Stella thought. But he is really hot. And concieted. And hot. And a jerk...Right, this stops now.
"Well, erm, Draco, it was a pleasure meeting you. I really ought to be getting home, though." It was past midnight and she wanted to get some sleep.
As she walked away, Draco, looking slightly put out, called, "I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express, then."
But Stella and Draco would be seeing each other much sooner.
Ronald Weasley woke up feeling refreshed. The orange posters which graced his walls always seemed to have that waking-up affect on him. He got up and looked at the Chudley Cannons' motto which always seemed to help him face the day: "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best." The Cannons were doing remarkable well this year--twelfth in the league rather than their usual thirteen.
As Ron took a shower, he remembered a dream he had had a few nights ago. His best friend (and the girl he secretly had a crush on), Hermione Granger, had been lying on the beach in a revealing bikini. When she saw him walking towards her, she got up and ran to meet him. She started kissing him. Then, she pulled away, and said that there was something she had to tell him. But he had woken up.
That'll never happen, he thought regretfully. For two reasons: A) she likes Harry Potter and B) Hermione wouldn't be caught dead in a bikini...Oh well.
Ron got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, greeting the various members of his family as he went. As he passed his sister Ginny's room, he saw through the crack in her door that she was gazing at a picture of Harry Potter that had lipstick marks all over it. Since the photograph moved, as did all pictures in the wizarding world, Harry had been trying to dodge the kiss marks by squeezing into a far corner of the frame.
"Ick. I did not need to see that."
"What? What happened?" asked his brother, Fred, as he walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. Judging by the bangs and whistles that Ron heard during the short period in which the door was open, George was still within, working on whatever the latest of the twins' inventions was.
"Oh--oh, nothing," Ron said. However disgusted he was, he didn't want to relate what he'd seen to Fred, who would surely make Ginny's life miserable due to the evil grin that was forming on his face.
Ron swept past a disgruntled Fred and down the stairs that led to the first level. Upon reaching the kitchen, he was promptly ignored by his mother and father, who were apparently distressed about something.
He caught snatches of their conversation:
"Where do you suppose they got all that money?" his mother, Molly, was asking.
"Maybe Ludo finally paid them back..." his father, Arthur, said in a hushed tone.
"What?"
"Oh...erm...Ludo borrowed some money off them at the Cup last summer..."
Ron could tell that his mother wasn't buying it. "I see. Well in any case, it's very suspicious..."
Ron interjected. "At least I got some new dressrobes out of it. Those old ones were awful, no offense, Mum."
His parents had not heard him enter and jumped.
"Good morning, Ron." Mr. Weasley smiled weakly at him. "Didn't...erm...hear you come in. Would you like a piece of toast?"
Stella couldn't believe her eyes. Back in Melbourne, the magic shops had been scattered all over town amongst the muggle shops. They simply couldn't be seen by them. But she had never seen an entire alley with wizards walking around in the open, free to do what they wanted.
She wanted to go to the shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies, but Mother steered her instead towards Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, saying school things first, treats later.
This didn't upset Stella very much as she was very interested in how English wizards differed from Australians. After her school shopping was done, Stella found herself in front of Ollivander's Wands.
"Grandfather, I don't need a wand," she said. "Remember? I've got one already." The quarrel of the night before had been put aside for the time being, and she was being civil to them, but still managed to give them the cold shoulder.
"Yes, I remember. But this Ollivander is an old friend of mine," he said. "We were at Hogwarts together. Besides, I figured we could have your wand checked out for fun. See what's in it."
Mr. Ollivander was a spooky old man, but Stella was not scared of him; rather, she felt oddly at home with him. He smiled when he caught sight of Grandfather.
"David, you old scallywag! Still dying your hair, I see!"
"I do not, old man. I've never had a gray hair in my life. You, on the other hand, don't have any left--"
They laughed and hugged each other. Then, Mr. Ollivander noticed Stella and her mother.
"Hello, Margaret. You're looking lovlier than ever," he said, embracing her. "This must be your daughter." He regarded Stella fondly. "Is she looking for a wand, then? Looks a bit old for it, doesn't she?"
"Oh, I don't need a wand, I've got one," Stella said, surprised at her own boldness in the face of a strange old man. "See?" She handed it to him.
Then Mr. Ollivander did something she did not expect. He almost began jumping with excitement, he looked so happy.
"This is a very interesting wand," he said, examining it gleefully. "Very interesting indeed. You have a very strong connection to it."
"What?" asked Stella, interested in spite of her attempts to act unhappy in front of her mother and grandfather. "How's that?"
The old man continued eagerly, "It seems to have a part of you in it. Hang on..." he said, his smile fading somewhat, "...This can't be possible! How could part of you be in it? You're not a unicorn!" He glared at her. "You're not even a tree!"