She was so beautiful. Harry had never seen such beauty throughout his entire life. Her skin was fair and flawless, her eyes, dark like melted chocolate, created endless swarms of butterflies to form in Harry's stomach. Her raven-black hair swished gracefully as she walked; it made Harry’s stomach fill with butterflies just thinking of it. Her beauty entranced him to the point of his only being able to think about her. As Harry slept on, dreaming of this amazing, perfect girl, a dopey grin spread across his face.
Angela Petersen was an American witch whom Harry had met at the Career Conference for Aspiring Witches and Wizards. Ever since Dumbledore died, Harry had wanted to get information useful to his quest for Voldemort, considering becoming an Auror in the hope that they would train him enough that he would be able to fight him. However, after he met Angela, a new goal took root in the already dilapidated old one. She told Harry about a wizard exchange program between the schools and the possibility of her signing up to spend a year at Hogwarts, shadowing Harry and learning the ins and outs of Hogwarts life. It was the perfect opportunity.
Harry had spent a good portion of his summer at the Weasleys’. He usually spent his days practicing Quidditch with Ron in the small paddock up the hill from the Burrow. Quidditch was Harry’s life. Just the sensation of flying gave him an enormous rush that often went to his head. But outside of Hogwarts grounds, he had to be careful not to take his Firebolt too high in case Muggles should notice anything out of the ordinary.
The only other thing Harry did that summer was write to Angela. Mostly he wrote to her about what Hogwarts was like, what she would need, and went into as much detail as he could about the teachers and classes. He also frequently wrote about himself, his friends, and how eager he was to see her again. Harry got into so much depth with the letters that it often took days to complete just one. He didn’t want Angela to come to school and be completely unaware of what had gone on in Harry’s life up to that point. He wanted her to be as comfortable at Hogwarts as he was, maybe even more so. The words could not come out of his quill fast enough.
She replied to each of his letters with her owl, Lorenzo, whose feathers were a profound black in contrast to Hedwig’s snowy white plumage. She updated him every time her school’s headmaster told her more about the exchange program. Apparently, she was taking a boat across the ocean, sending her things via the Ministry of Magic, and was to meet Harry at the Leaky Cauldron the day before school started so she could buy all of her things for Hogwarts. Harry copied the supplies list for her so she could transfer sufficient galleons to Gringotts.
In her letters, Angela also told Harry more about herself. For instance, she was Muggle-born (her family took the news that she was a witch rather well, changing much of their Muggle money into Galleons so that she would have enough for her school things.) She was also a seventh year at her school, the Gizellda Acadamy. And, what Harry found most amazing about her, she was a Seeker on her school’s Quidditch team. However, to Harry’s great bewilderment, she also frequently pointed out her flaws, such as her tendency to sleep-talk, be obnoxiously loud, self-conscious, and get very angry at people for peculiar reasons, such as sniffling, mumbling inaudibly when they spoke to her, or moving their lips while they read. Harry wondered why she told him all of this but didn’t care, as long as she didn’t mind his tendency to skive off his Divination homework.
Before he finished his fourth letter to Angela, it was already mid-August. By that time, Hermione had come to the Burrow to go shopping with Harry and the Weasleys at Diagon Alley. They talked and played wizarding chess, Ron beating Harry every time, the two of them laughing as Harry’s king was beaten into a powder. But the tension grew higher as the date drew closer to September 1. It was the day before when Harry awoke suddenly.
Harry found himself waking up to see Ron fully alert, wearing his maroon pajamas, which by this time went barely halfway down his shins, and an unusually grim expression on his face. Harry grabbed his glasses off of the bed stand, and looked around the room. Today they were going shopping in Diagon Alley, and Harry would see Angela for the first time since they met in July. Harry looked back at Ron. He had to say something, or Harry would feel useless in the presence of his best friend, a thing he cringed at the mere thought of.
“Ron, we’re going shopping in Diagon Alley today and you look miserable. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Bloody hell, Harry, this is our last year at Hogwarts, and I haven’t even figured out what I’m going to do after we leave school! Charlie has Romania and his dragons, Bill has Gringotts and Fleur,” Ron paused to blush to the point of almost matching his pajamas, “Fred and George have their joke shop, and what have I got? A bunch of hand-me-down robes and a year to figure what to do with myself. Does that sound particularly cheery to you, Harry? Does it?”
“No, Ron, I can’t say it does,” Harry replied hastily, pulling on his trainers and tying them sloppily. “But we have all year to find out, and only a few minutes to get dressed. Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
“Why’re you so keen about being on ti… Harry, you great bastard!” A smile spread across Ron’s face as comprehension finally dawned on him. “You just want to get to Diagon Alley so you can meet your girlfriend! What’s her name again? Amy …Amanda...”
“Angela,” Harry said, realizing his chest had involuntarily puffed out a little more than he would’ve liked, making him look like the underdressed version of the Muggle comic book hero, Super Man. He quickly assumed his normal posture. “And she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my friend, so just leave it, alright?”
“Ooh, getting all defensive about your girlfriend, eh Harry?” Harry could tell Ron was enjoying this, but at least he had gotten his mind off school. Harry and Ron dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, where they were ambushed by Mrs. Weasley with a skillet full of sausages and eggs.
“What took you boys so long?” she asked. “Hermione and Ginny have already eaten and brought their trunks down,” she said, pointing her skillet in the direction of the girls, who were sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet and apparently giggling at an article about witches’ rights activists parading around London with signs bearing slogans such as “What’s Wrong With Scrimgeour?” and “Give Us Our Rights and We’ll Give You Your Dinner. ”
“You’d better hurry, or we’ll worry Harry’s friend, who’ll be expecting us at the Leaky Cauldron fairly soon.” Mrs. Weasley fussed.
Ginny looked up quickly.
“What friend?” she asked. Harry gulped silently. He had meant to tell Ginny about Angela when they arrived at Diagon Alley. However, it seemed he had no choice but to explain now.
“Angela is a friend of mine who will be joining us at Hogwarts this year. She wanted me to go shopping with her so she would know where to buy her school things,” he said, albeit reluctantly.
Ginny stared at him blankly, obviously too shocked to say anything.
Harry knew what she was thinking, and he didn’t want to make her think that their breakup meant nothing. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he added hastily, “or I would have talked to you about her earlier. She’s really great, I think you’ll like her.” Hermione gave a rather loud snort, as though to say she seriously doubted that would ever happen. Harry blushed.
This is it, Harry thought. She hates me. I really shouldn’t have kept this from her for so long. Harry was furious with himself, but he knew he’d have to tell her before they actually met.
“I’m sure I will.” Ginny plastered what was clearly a false smile across her face; it pained Harry to look at her like this. He ate his breakfast and went back upstairs to get his list of materials, most of which, he realized, he already had. The only things he needed were robes and books, as well as a restock of various Potions ingredients he had run out of. He went back downstairs. Everyone was waiting for him, and Ginny had an unpleasantly cold look upon her face. Mrs. Weasley broke the uncomfortable silence.
“The car’s waiting outside dear. Let’s go before traffic backs up too badly.” The children followed her out the door in silence.