Stella was an eleven-year-old girl who grew up in a pureblood family. However, she had no knowledge of her real parents, and was adopted by the Malfoys. She always felt grey and depressed. Everything in the home seemed depressed. Her step-parents were a bit cheerful then the darn building, yet, somewhat cold. She was sitting on her bed, which was right next to a large window. She leaned her arms against the bottom of the window and stared outside. It was a sunny day. There were a few, small clouds floating about and it was a bit breezy. Stella didn't feel the breeze, but, oh well, the home was air-conditioned by magic anyway.
Speaking of magic, she was going to Hogwarts soon. She didn't know what to think of it, even though her parents were excited and crazy about it, as if it was a party or something. Her father always said, "Hope you get into Slytherin," to her. Both of her parents begged her to get the highest grade. Draco didn't say anything, and Stella didn't care because he was a spoiled brat anyway.
She hardly talked to people and wondered if she would look normal in front of them. Whenever she did talk to teenagers her age at Diagon Alley, she would stutter and mix a few words nervously. She would get lots of stares, most of them scaring her. Lots of wizards and witches thought of her as some sort of freak. She gave up trying to make friends. However, she wanted to look normal at Hogwarts, since she was going to live there for the school year.
It was nearly the end of August. "Just two more days," she thought.