A Different Kind of Magic.

It was the summer of my third year at Hogwarts when I first met Fred Weasley. My mother had died a few months earlier giving birth to my stillborn baby brother, and my father had decided to uproot the two of us and start a completely new life in the small but quaint town of Ottery St Catchpole. It was very different from the hustle and bustle of London that I was used to, but I knew better than to complain. The country air would do us some good, of that I was certain.

We’d moved into a small house on Winter’s Lane, and I’d set about familiarising myself with the streets and the shops, so I soon knew my way around. The people of Ottery St Catchpole were pleasant enough, but my social phobia kept me from making any friends in those first few weeks. It was halfway through the summer when my father burst into the kitchen in a fervour, having been wandering around town for the last few hours.

“Em! You won’t guess what I found!”

I looked up from the breakfast I was making, half a sausage in my mouth. “What?”

He looked positively ecstatic. “I found a house behind a whole load of trees and –“ he lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper, “- I think it’s made with magic!”

I swallowed the sausage half with a large gulp. “Seriously? We move to a small town, far away from where we used to be, and we find other people from the Wizarding world?”

He smiled. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent certain, but if my twenty-plus years in architecture has taught me anything, it’s that a building like the one I just saw must have something magical holding it up. Wanna come look?”

He looked so excited for me that I had to grin. I knew the last few months had been hard on him – not only was he thrust into the role of single-father-looking-after-a-teenage-daughter, but also the role of Muggle-father-looking-after-teenage-witch. Life had been hard enough for him when Mum had still been alive he never really knew how to ask me questions about school as nearly anything magic-related confused him, but the last few months must have been five times harder. I was almost looking forward to going back to school, just knowing that Dad would be able to slip seamlessly back into the Muggle world without worrying about me.

“Okay, well we’ll go after breakfast, okay?”

He nodded and disappeared to get his coat.

Thirty minutes later, we were standing on the very outskirts of town, where there seemed to be nothing but trees. I glanced at my father, but he only winked. “Just a little further, I swear.”

And, true to his word, not even five minutes later we were staring at the tallest, wonkiest and coolest house I’d ever seen. It was definitely using magic. No way could it be supporting itself, not the way it was leaning so.

I was about to congratulate my dad on his find when a car came shooting out from the sky, and out came three redheaded boys and one brunette. I recognised the brunette – Harry Potter – as he had been the topic du jour last year, and was pretty famous, and I knew the younger redhead to be his friend, though I didn’t quite know his name. The other two I assumed to be the older brothers of the redhead – all I knew of them were that they were in the year above me and notorious for their pranks.

Suddenly, an angry woman came out of nowhere, yelling at the top of her lungs about an enchanted car. My father and I looked at each other and mouthed: magic.

The tirade didn’t end for quite some time, and I was determined to go home before we were seen, but my dad was steadfast in his decision to stay. I just hoped he wouldn’t get a stupid idea into his head about making friends.

Unfortunately for me, that’s exactly what was going through his mind.

As soon as they disappeared into the house, a determined look crossed his face and he grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s go introduce ourselves.”

I looked at him in abject horror. “No. No way. Not going to happen. I don’t care if they go to Hogwarts – no.”

His eyes sparkled. “They go to Hogwarts! Perfect! Come on, Emilia, you need to make friends. This year will be your third year and you haven’t made a single friend. At least be a friendly neighbour.”

I sighed, rubbing my arm. “Fine. But if we get yelled at because she’s angry or because we shouldn’t be on their property, I’m blaming you.”

He grinned and before I could blink, he was dragging me toward the house, calling out a greeting at the top of his lungs. I didn’t think my face could burn anymore than it currently was.

The woman came out of the house, her cheeks as red as mine felt.

My father beamed. “Hello! We’re new to town and I was just wandering around in the wee hours of this morning when I stumbled across your house and immediately I was convinced that it was held together by magic so I went home to ask my daughter – “ He gestured toward me, “- a third-year student at Hogwarts, and made her come and look at this wondrous house. I then thought that we’d be good neighbours and introduce ourselves! I’m Robert, and this is my daughter Emilia. “

I’d always been impressed by my dad’s ability to sum up a whole day’s events in three sentences or less.

The woman blinked, then smiled. “Hogwarts, you say? I have several children that attend Hogwarts, though none of them are entering their third year. Why don’t you two come in and I’ll cook you up some breakfast?”

I was about to say we’d already eaten, thanks to Dad being a morning person, but he silenced me with a look and beamed. “Thank would be lovely, er-“

“Molly. Molly Weasley,” she smiled.

“Molly, right. That would be lovely, Molly.”

I was amazed at how magic seemed to ooze from every nook and cranny of the house. Even when Mum had been alive, our house hadn’t been particularly magical. A self-cleaning floor had been about the extent of it.

We’d just sat down to a hearty breakfast when I heard shouts from the yard. I looked up immediately, a habit picked up in London when the neighbour’s kids would often come and destroy our garden, and Molly Weasley smiled.

“Don’t mind that dear,” she said, “that’s just the children de-gnoming the garden as punishment for taking an enchanted car for a joyride in the middle of the night and returning with Harry Potter, no less.”

I nodded, knowing better than to say anything else. Molly’s eyes had narrowed slightly and her cheeks had a flush to them. She was still angry at her children.

It must have been at least a half-hour later when the others came indoors, sweaty, exhausted and grinning.

They all stopped short at the sight of my father and I. Automatically, I felt my stomach begin tying itself in knots, and wished the ground would swallow me up, It didn’t help that I was facing them – my father was lucky enough to have his back to them.

“Boys, this is Robert and Emilia Evergreen – Emilia’s beginning her third year at Hogwarts, and recently moved to Ottery St Catchpole.”

I tried to muster up a demure smile, but I could feel my lips quivering violent due to nerves.

Harry stepped forward. “Hi, Emilia, I’m Harry.”
I nodded, still trying to smile. “Hello.”

The youngest redhead was the next to introduce himself. “I’m Ron Weasley. What house are you in?”

“Gryffindor, and it’s nice to meet you, too.”

One of the twins was next. “George Weasley at your service, and Gryffindor? I haven’t seen you around before.”

I blushed. “I tend to veer more towards the, erm, library. I don’t particularly – I mean, I feel more… comfortable there. Nice to meet you George.”

And finally, the last boy was up. “I’m Fred Weasley, the better Weasley twin and prankster extraordinaire. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Emilia.”

My cheeks were bright red and I felt slightly dizzy. Oh, no. Please, no. I hadn’t felt this way since Thomas Marcell in fourth grade.

“Erm, nice to meet you too, Fred. I guess I’ll just have to take your word on it that you’re the better twin, seeing as I don’t know the two of you well and therefore cannot formulate my own opinion pertaining to the better twin.”

His eyes sparkled and I felt stupid. I also tended to either over- or under-speak when nervous.

“Well, maybe we’ll just have to make sure you do get to know us better, then, won’t we George?”

And with that, I was smitten.