Mafalda Prewett-Weasley is an...odd child. She prefers the indoors to the outdoors, has an awful over-studying habit, and absolutely despises her cousin Ron. Her journey is just about to begin when she first arrives at Hogwarts, very eager (perhaps...
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Mafalda Prewett was a peculiar girl. Her mother was a muggle, and her father a squib. He was an accountant, and wasn't home much at all. Same goes for her mother, who was a librarian in their small town. In fact, Mafalda spent most of her childhood living with her cousins, the Weasley's. Because of this, she grew up confused with her personality. By the time she turned eight, she simply called herself Mafalda Weasley, and no one argued.
But, her story really began the day she came to visit the Weasley's for a very special occasion.
"Goodbye!" My father attempted to wave, but was rather preoccupied with his cellphone, and the way he was being herded back onto the train with several other passengers.
"Muggles..." I groaned, under my breath.
I rolled my eyes, turned on my heel, and walked into the rush of the station. Of course, Uncle Arthur would be waiting for me at the curb beside King's Cross: I was expecting that. However, what I wasn't expecting was my least favorite family member sitting in the Weasley's magical Ford; it was Ron. He looked like his six other siblings, tall, skinny, ginger.
My features were similar, if not a variation of Ron's own; my hair was a bit more auburn-colored, my eyes a lighter hazel, covered up by large rimmed glasses, and my skin paler from spending so much time inside. To be quite frank, I looked ridiculuous.
Uncle Arthur gave me a hug, which I appeared to accept reluctantly: in truth, I hadn't embraced anyone in five months. Sitting beside Ron wasn't as pleasant, as he just looked over his shoulder -he was facing his window- and muttered,
"Hi ."
I responded with a mimic of his own voice,
"Hi ."
That was all we said to each other for the rest of the week.
The Weasley household was a mix-matched burrow that, at first look, might appear to be three or four cottages stacked on top of each other sideways and such. But, it was generally my home, and I couldn't complain; my Aunt Molly made amazing food, the twins -Fred and George-were respectful enough, and I had an entire room, all to my own.
It was in the basement, where I could get a little peace and quiet, and take time to write in my diary. Yes, I know; keeping a diary is a very juvenile thing to do. But I was only twelve, mind you.
Yes, you heard me right. I was twelve. Usually, first years are eleven. But, this was the first year that I had convinced my parents that I should actually be allowed to go to Hogwarts. So, my Uncle called up some of his buddies at the Ministry, got me registered, and had me take a pre-test. I passed with flying colors. It was decided that I was quite advanced for my age, and could attend Hogwarts at a third year level instead of as a first year. This might've been the main reason I had such high expectations for myself that first year.
