Since we lived in Hastings, Mum explained, we had to go to London to get me ready for school. Dad didn’t come home the next day, so we planned a trip up north. “Where in London?” I asked.
“Diagon Alley,” she replied. I’d never heard of it before. I asked her if normal people knew about this place. “Of course not!” Mum laughed. “Muggles don’t know anything!”
“What’s a muggle?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound dumb.
“A muggle is a person who is not magical,” Mum explained, not at all annoyed with me. She was a patient woman, and she loved me.
We packed a few nights’ worth of clothing and supplies and took the train to London. I was excited to go there, because I had only been to London a few times before. Mum used to go by herself a lot, and now I knew why: she was visiting her non-Muggle friends.
When we arrived at our destination, Mum and I got off the train. Everyone around us looked completely normal to me. I asked her if many of them were wizards or witches. She smiled at me and said, “No. They are probably all Muggles.” I came to understand that most people were Muggles. What boring lives they must lead! But Mum and I took the Underground to a stop somewhere in the city and soon surfaced in the streets of London. It was a busy place. I loved the feel of it. Mum and I walked around, looking at various sights for a while. Then, she told me, it was time to go to Diagon Alley.
We walked down some streets until Mum stopped in front of a small place called the Leaky Cauldron. I barely noticed it was there. All the Muggles walking by seemed to ignore it, but Mum pulled me inside anyway. Inside, the place was dimly lit. People wearing long, flowing robes sat at tables, enjoying drinks and chatting amongst themselves. Nobody noticed us come in, except for a woman sitting in the corner. She stood up and walked over to us, flinging her arms around Mum in a tight embrace. Mum returned the hug. I stood there, wondering who this woman was. She was a little taller than Mum, and her robes were a dark green. Her hair was a reddish brown, like Mum’s and mine, and tumbled down her back in loose curls. She was thin and fair-skinned, with long fingernails painted in a cute purple color. Mum seemed happy to see her. After a moment, she pulled out of the embrace and put her arm around my shoulder. I still only came up to Mum’s shoulder, but she had always assured me that she had been the short one in her family, too.
“Susan, this is Melinda,” Mum said, beaming at the tall woman. Melinda bent over a bit and kissed my cheek. I stood still, unsure of how to react.
“Why, Susan,” Melinda reflected playfully, “is that the proper way to greet your aunt?”
Melinda was Mum’s sister, I reasoned. I smiled shyly and returned her kiss on the cheek. Melinda stood up, looking happy. “Oh, Mary, she’s turning into a beautiful girl!” she cried happily. I blushed. Mum lovingly looked down at me.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Mum urged presently. Melinda nodded and gestured to her little table in the corner. We sat down after Melinda hugged Mum one more time.
Looking around, I felt out of place in my Muggle clothing. Mum didn’t seem to care, so I put it aside. “Do you want a drink, dear?” Melinda was saying to Mum and me. I declined, but Mum sat back and accepted.
“Butterbeer, please,” she said gratefully. Melinda got up at went to the counter. She soon returned, carrying two drinks. Placing one in front of Mum, she sat down. They sipped the brown liquid for a moment. Then, Melinda spoke.
“So Susan,” she remarked, “you got your letter?”
“Yes,” I said, still sort of shy. Mum set her drink on the table.
“She got it three days ago!” she corrected, beaming. Melinda looked excited for me.
“Oh, isn’t that grand!” she grinned. I nodded and looked at Mum. Her grin was fading.
Melinda seemed to sense that something was wrong. “Mary? What is it?” she asked immediately. Mum took a gulp of her Butterbeer, then spoke.
“It’s Eric,” she sighed. “He’s gone.” I looked down at my hands, which were squeezed in my lap.
“Oh dear,” she said quietly. Mum nodded, and explained what had happened. Melinda shook her head.
“Some Muggles just can’t take it,” she reasoned. “They don’t want to know that magic is real. It upsets their perfect, little world.” She and Mum shared a look. “If only he had been different.” I sniffled a little, and Melinda turned her gaze towards me. “It must affect you greatly, and Susan, too,” she said soflty. Mum placed a hand on my shoulder.
We sat in silence for a while. Melinda and Mum soon finished their drinks. However, they didn’t go for another round. Instead, Mum stood up, shortly followed by Melinda. “Let’s think happier thoughts,” Mum suggested, forcing a smile. I relaxed, and stood up. Putting Dad out of mind, I followed the sisters to the little courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. Melinda pulled out a strange piece of wood, crafted into a long, thin shape. It was a wand, I later found out. Tapping various bricks, she soon had the bricks rearranging themselves so that an archway appeared before my eyes. I shrank back into Mum’s arms, but she seemed not in the least disturbed by the strange thing happening. Picking up our little bags of clothing, she pushed me in front of her through the archway, following Melinda.
With a little thump, the archway closed itself behind me. I jumped slightly, and Melinda laughed.
“Never done magic in front of her before?” she exclaimed.
“How could I, Melinda?” Mum offered. “Then Eric would see it.”
“True,” Melinda admitted, and suddenly changed the subject. “Do you want to come back to my place first?”
“Of course,” Mum said brightly, not letting herself fall into a bad mood. I took my bag from Mum and held her hand. Melinda smiled and turned away from us.
We set off down the street that had been behind the archway. Not bothering to ask how this street could be here at all, I looked around me in wonder. Shops lined the cobbled street, selling magical things like cauldrons and broomsticks. I allowed Mum to pull me to a stairway in between a pub and a store called “Flourish and Blots.” The stairs were a bit old and rickety and were covered by a sagging roof, but soon we had reached the top. A few doors stood in front of us on the little landing. Melinda walked straight up to one on the right and pulled out an oddly-shaped key. Thrusting it in the lock, Melinda muttered something and turned her hand. With a click, the door swung open. Melinda stepped inside. Mum followed her.
“Come on, now,” Melinda encouraged. “Don’t be shy.” I stepped inside the place as Melinda shut the door behind me.
We were in a small, dark hallway, or at least that’s how it started out. Soon, Melinda had whipped out that wand again and flicked it towards small candles on the walls. Flames immediately sprung to life and the hallway was lit up. The walls were covered in dark, maroon wallpaper. A painting rested here or there. I stared at one, then jumped. The person in the picture had blinked at me. Mum laughed at my fear, and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. In our kind of paintings and photographs, the images always move.” Our kind. I was one of them.
The floors were paneled in a soft wood that felt well traveled. The little hallway wasn’t very long, and contained only a coat rack. Mum pulled off her sweater and hung it up. I did the same. At the end of the hallway was a door, which we crossed to. Melinda pulled it open and ushered us inside. The room we next entered was brightly lit, with windows to the right looking down over Diagon Alley. It was a pleasant living space, with a homely kitchen and a cozy living room beside it. Three doors stood to the left, suggesting additional rooms, most likely bedrooms and bathrooms. Melinda was definitely in her comfort zone; the carpeting was thick and soft, so that I was tempted to kick off my shoes and let my toes sink into the plush mass under my feet. The walls, unlike those in the hallway, were crisp and smooth, with a deep red texture that fit the happy mood. Melinda took a deep breath, saying under her breath, “It’s good to be home.”
Mum looked around, laughing at some of the paintings on the walls. “You still have this one of me?” she cried. “I must have been only five years old when Mum took that!” Melinda’s eyes twinkled.
“I know. I stole it from the attic,” she said mischievously. Mum rolled her eyes.
“You always had some scheme or other cooked up,” she joked. I felt myself grin along with them. When Mum was happy, so was I.
“Let’s put your things away and relax for a minute,” Melinda persuaded. Mum agreed immediately and moved to open one of the doors. Melinda and I followed her.
“You have only one guest bedroom, so Susan and I will share,” Mum decided after surveying the quaint room. It had a queen sized bed with a wild floral print quilt and matching pillows. An old armoire stood in the corner, and a cushioned armchair sat beside it. It all looked perfect for a rainy afternoon in which one was best off curling up with a good book. Mum and I put our luggage on the bottom of the bed. I took one last look around the place before going back out into Melinda’s main rooms.
“Have a seat,” Melinda offered, gesturing towards the sofa near the windows. “Since we already had drinks, I don’t think I’ll make tea.” We all sat down. Mum and Melinda chatted for a while, but I spoke only when I was spoken to. It seemed that the two of them hadn’t spoken for a few months, since Mum didn’t get to come up to London that often. Melinda never came to Hastings. I don’t think she’d ever been to our house at all. I let them talk, resting my mind.
It was about half an hour later that Melinda stood up and said, “Well, we’d best go get Susan’s supplies for school.” Mum looked excited. I shared her feelings on this, and jumped to my feet. Melinda went into her bedroom. We heard her fumbling around with locks on drawers. After a minute, she returned with a small key. Presenting it to Mum, she looked at me brightly. “Let’s go!”
A/N: Thank you for reading, once again! And props to Annie for giving me Melinda's name. (Rock on Charmed Ones!)