A Muggle Girlfriend

You know, I really really did not believe all the stuff Dean told me yesterday. Well, I do now. But the trouble is, I can't tell anyone else because they wouldn't believe me, just like I didn't believe it. If you see what I mean. And even now, I still don't know what to make of it all. I mean, Dean's a nice bloke and all that, but this magic stuff ... I'm still trying to get my head round it.

I've known Dean since he was a small kid. I think we met at nursery school. He was the quiet type who just got on with things, which made him a bit different, given some of the other people around him. Me - I wasn't the quiet type, but even then there was something about him that I liked.

So we go through nursery school and primary school together. We didn't have anything going then - apart from anything else, I wasn't in to that sort of thing at that age. Not that you don't find out about the facts of life quickly enough round here, I must say. Mind you, Mum's always been - well, not strict, but she's tried to bring me up properly. Dunno whether she succeeded. I think she must have done really, looking at some of the girls round here.

Then we turn eleven, and it's a case of moving from primary school up to the local comp. Except Dean, who suddenly gets this mysterious 'scholarship' off to some boarding school. Now, no one, but no one, round us goes to boarding school. Unless you use that as a euphemism for 'detention centre'. And why Dean? I mean, he was quite good at school, and quite artistic, but not scholarship material. And he wouldn't say much about it - just that it was a 'boarding school a long way off'. And he wouldn't say what sort of 'scholarship'. Well, I know why now, don't I? But we all knew then was that there was something fishy about it - particularly since Dean wouldn't talk about it. I can always tell when Dean's being evasive. He's not a good liar. One of things I like about him, I suppose.

Well, come September I start at the comprehensive, and Dean disappears off to wherever. This mysterious 'boarding school'. He comes back in the holidays, of course, and we meet up then. But when I ask him about his school and what he gets up to there, he mutters stuff, and I know he's bullshitting. As I say, he doesn't lie well. Funny thing, though - you'd have thought with him being away so much, that we'd never have got together. But each time he came back, it was like it was new, fresh - yet at the same time, we were picking up the threads again. Anyway, one day we got to be more than friends, if you take my meaning. And it wasn't a bit of quick stuff on the side - I really cared about Dean, and I knew he cared about me. If it hadn't been like that, I wouldn't have done it.

Which made it all the more difficult about this school of his. I mean, what was it all about? He'd tell me nothing - or start making up some bullshit, and I'd tell him to give over. I asked him one day: didn't he have any friends from school that lived round here?

"Round here? You've got to be joking."

"In London, then."

He thought about that. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Well, don't you ever meet up?"

"I see enough of them during term."

Which was a fair enough point. Anyway, I can see he's thinking really hard about something.

"Don't burn it out."

"What?"

"Your brain. I can see it ticking away."

He gave a sort of grin. "Yeah, well." And he was silent for another minute, then: "Olive?"

"Yeah?"

"A friend of mine's giving a party. Do you want to come?"

"A friend from school, you mean?"

"Yeah."

I sat up. "Of course I do! I'd like to meet some of these mysterious friends of yours."

"I think I can arrange it."

"What do you mean? Is it that difficult? Are they all locked away or something?"

He gave another grin. "Not quite."

"Well then?"

"It might be difficult," he said slowly, "but I'll see what I can do."

"When is it?"

"Saturday."

"Oh, that's why you didn't want to go out at the weekend."

"Yeah."

"Who's giving the party?"

"Bloke called Harry."

"What sort of party is it?"

"Well, from what I can make out, he's moving into a new house, and it's a sort of housewarming."

"So are his parents going to be there?"

"His parents are dead."

"Oh." There's not a lot you can say to that, can you? "Well, his family then?"

Dean shook his head. "From what I gather, he's moving into his own place."

"Really? How old is he?"

"He'll be seventeen."

"What? A birthday party too?"

"Think so."

"Seventeen's a bit young to be moving into your own place."

"I think it was left to him."

"By his parents?"

"No, his godfather."

"You mean he's dead too?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Bummer. Where is this place, anyway? What sort of place is it?"

Dean shook his head. "Dunno. Haven't seen it."

"But where is it?"

"Dunno."

"You don't know where it is?"

"No."

"So how are we going to get there?"

"You'll find out."

"Mysterious, eh?"

"Something like that."

And he wouldn't tell me any more. But I get this text message from him on my mobile: 'Party OK. Be my place at 4.'

So at last I was going to find out more about this mystery school. I arrive at his place, and he takes me through to his room and sits down on the bed, pats the space next to him. I sit down too.

"Um, Olive, there's something I've got to tell you about the people tonight."

He wasn't looking at me, but down at his hands. "Yeah?"

"There's no easy way to explain this - but ... they can all do magic."

It's one of those times when you think you haven't heard straight. Then I thought: ah, conjuring tricks. Okay, but what's the big deal about that? "Magic?" I asked, trying to keep my face straight.

He nodded. "Yeah." But there was something in the way he said it which made me think again.

"Magic in like spells and things? Or magic as in conjuring tricks?" wondering quite what he was going to say.

"Spells and things."

He was being more serious than usual. As if he really expected me to believe it.

"Real magic?" I asked a bit cautiously.

"Yeah. Real magic."

He still wasn't looking at me. I decided he really was having me on. I mean to say - people doing magic? A whole school of them?

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious, Olive."

"You mean you can do magic too, then?"

"Yeah."

"Go on then."

He sighed. "I can't now. Because I'm under age, and we're not in school."

"Right," I said, drawing out the syllable. "Good excuse."

He looked at me for the first time. "When we get to Harry's I can."

"But that's not school."

"Yeah, but they won't be able to tell whether it's Harry or me. And Harry's of age."

"Thought you said he was seventeen?"

"Yeah, but that's of age according to the Ministry."

"Ministry?"

"Ministry of Magic."

I did laugh then. "Ministry of Magic?"

"Someone's got to be in charge," he said, slightly indignant.

"Is there a Minister of Magic then?"

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"

"Bloke called Cornelius Fudge."

"Oh, yeah, heard of him," I said sarcastically.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me. But - well, if you see funny stuff happening, you'll know why."

"Okay. Will all of them be magic people then?"

"Not sure. Hermione's parents may be there - they're Muggles."

"They're what?"

"Muggles. Non magic folk."

I stared at him. I was almost beginning to believe him. "Whatever. So how are we getting there?"

"Going to Lavender's first."

"Lavender?"

"Lavender Brown. She's from school too. Same House as me. It's called Gryffindor."

"Okay. How do we get to Lavender's?"

"Underground."

First sensible thing I'd heard that afternoon. "Right then, let's go."

I still thought it was some sort of practical joke, even though that wasn't Dean's style at all. I'd known him for years, and okay, he could be silly at times - couldn't we all? - but this just seemed ... well, just out of character. I was expecting him to say 'Fooled you!' any moment, but instead he just sat there and looked worried. I looked at him, and he looked back, then he just sighed. In the end, he stood up, and opened the door. We said goodbye to his mum and dad, and set off.

Lavender's place turned out to be North London somewhere, so it was a bit of a hike on the Tube. Dean was fairly quiet all the way there - mind you, he's never that noisy anyway. I was still thinking about what he'd been saying. It had to be some sort of joke, but I couldn't work it out. Well, I'd find out. Best thing was to go along with it - but it wasn't at all like Dean, that sort of thing. He's usually one of these really sensible types, which is why I like him.

So eventually the train gets there and we come out of the tube and walk along. Nice part of London. Much nicer than round us. And Dean takes out this scrap of, I dunno, didn't look like paper, and reads the address.

"This is it," looking at the number on the gate.

"Posh looking house."

And it was too. Nice big detached house, nice garden. Just what I'd like. As if.

We go up the path and Dean rings the bell. This girl answers.

"Hi, Dean."

"Hi, Lavender. This is Olive. She's a Muggle."

He sounded slightly defensive. And that word again - Muggle. What was it? Non magic folk, he'd said.

"Oh, right. She knows, does she?"

Talking about me as though I wasn't there!

"Yeah. Told her this afternoon."

"Okay then. Did you get that special Floo powder?"

"Yeah."

Floo powder? What was that then? Dean wasn't into drugs, I knew that.

"Come in then," and she holds the door open for us.

There's something odd about the house, and it takes me a moment or two to work what it was. Gaslights! Gaslights, in this day and age. I don't say anything but look at Lavender. And she looks slightly odd too. Something about the way she was dressed. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the stuff she was wearing - well, it did seem sort of odd.

"Mum?" she yells, and this women appears from somewhere. She seemed to be dressed funny too. "This is Dean and Olive," Lavender says.

"Dean Thomas? I've heard about you from Lavender." What had she heard, I wondered.

Dean nods and smiles. "Nice to meet you, Mrs Brown."

"Olive's a Muggle," Lavender says.

"Oh, really?" goes her mum. She's not in on it too, is she? Seems unlikely, but you never know.

"Anyway, we're off now. Don't wait up."

"Well, have a good time, all of you."

"Thanks, mum. See you later."

Lavender takes us into this big room - told you it was a posh house - and goes up to the fireplace. Enormous great thing - almost big enough to stand in.

"Does she know about Floo powder?" Lavender asks Dean.

This girl was really beginning to piss me off. I have a name, and I can talk. Too much, sometimes, Dean says.

"Not yet," says Dean. "You can give a demonstration."

"Right then. See you at Harry's."

She reaches up to the mantelpiece, put her hand into a pot, takes some stuff out, steps into the fireplace, then she yells something and disappears in a sheet of green flames. See, I told you they were all conjurors or something. I walk up to the fireplace. It was quite warm, but there was no sign of Lavender.

"Where's she gone?" I ask.

"Harry's."

"Yeah, yeah. What's the trick?"

"No trick. It's magic."

I turn round. "Look, Dean Thomas, I've had enough of all this. Now where's she gone?"

He comes up to the fireplace next to me and reaches into his pocket. "Had to get this stuff specially, seeing that you're a Muggle."

"I thought you didn't do drugs?" He smiled again, in that sort of 'I'll explain later' way. God, I was getting fed up with this. "Okay, okay, just tell me what to do."

"Take my hand and stand in the fireplace."

Anything to make him happy. So, we were standing there, and he takes out this powder, throws it down, and he yells something too.

It was horrific. These flames shoot up, then it seems as though we're falling over and over, and it keeps on going on like that, until eventually we stumble out of the fireplace.

"Dean Thomas! If you ever try anything like that again ..."

But we were somewhere else. In a hall of another house. And that Lavender girl's looking at me again, with that 'Oh, my God' expression. So I shut up, and brush myself down, and look round.

There were loads of other people milling round, shouting, "Hi, Dean." They all seemed to be dressed in that odd way too, and there were gaslights here too.

"Where are we?" I whispered to Dean.

"Harry's place."

"How did we get here?"

"Floo powder."

"Oh." Well, at least that answered one of my questions. I didn't know where to start with the ninety nine other ones.

But then he starts introducing me round: "Seamus, Ginny, Padma - this is Olive, and she's a Muggle." And I was getting those looks again.

Another voice: "A Muggle?" A girl with big bushy hair.

"Hi, Hermione. Yeah."

"You better come with me," she said, and took my hand. "My parents are Muggles too, so I know what it's like."

Oh yeah? "Dean said you could all do magic," I said, a bit desperate.

"That's right."

I turned back to Dean. "Go on then. Show me."

"Right." He pulls out this stick. "Got anything on you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Anything - keys?"

I fish out my keys from a pocket and give them to Dean. He puts them on a little table, points the stick at them, and mutters something. My keys become a little metal toy soldier.

I blinked. "What did you do?"

"Transfigured them," obviously pleased with himself.

Hermione steps up and waves her stick at the toy soldier. It becomes a little shiny metal ballerina. Then Lavender decides to show off too, and tries to make it into a statue of a bloke - except it's still got a ballerina's dress, and everyone laughs, and Lavender looks embarrassed. That's her taken down a peg.

"Pity about the keys," said a voice over my shoulder. A bloke with red hair - no, two of them. Twins.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you won't get your keys back. They've been changed, haven't they? You're locked out now!"

I turn to Dean. "What?"

"They're only pulling your leg, Olive," says Hermione. And she turns the statue back into my keys again. I pick them up and look at them but they seem to be okay. I put them back into my pocket before anyone else has ideas.

"What are those things then?" pointing at their sticks.

"Wands," said Hermione.

"Dean's got a wand," said one of the twins leeringly, and it was obviously just what he was talking about. Hermione makes this disgusted noise, and I turn round and look him straight in the eye.

"Yeah, he has, and he knows how to use it. What about yours?"

The twin goes red, and everyone cheers. I look at Dean, but he's standing off to one side, smiling a bit. I can't tell whether he's blushing, not in that light. Not with that complexion, either.

"Don't mess with this one, George," said the other one.

"Hmm," and I could see him looking at me, thinking of what to do next.

"No tricks," said Hermione sharply. "She's a Muggle, and it wouldn't be fair."

"Who said anything about being fair?"

"I did," said Hermione.

They thought about that, and I could see that Hermione was someone else not to mess with.

It still hadn't quite sunk in. I turned back to Dean, and he saw my face. He raised an eyebrow. "Still don't believe me?" He pointed that wand at my skirt. "Never did like that colour."

There was another flash. My skirt had turned blue!

"Dean Thomas!" I yelped. "Turn it back this instant!"

Everyone was laughing, and I could see that Lavender girl sniggering. I shot her a dirty look.

"Oh, really!" said Hermione, sounding exasperated, and she pointed her wand. I panicked - I didn't know what she was about to do, and yelled "No!"

There was another flash, and my skirt returned to normal. I gulped. "Thanks," I said weakly. She smiled, then scowled at Dean. I think I was convinced now.

"Boys," she muttered, and I began to like her. A thought struck me, and I pulled her through into the other room.

"You go to school with Dean. Right?" She nodded. "Well me what he's like."

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Dean. And that school of yours. He never tells me anything about your school."

"Oh." Her face cleared. "Hasn't he told you anything at all?"

"Nope. Not until two hours ago. And I didn't believe him then."

"Do you believe him now?" she said, looking amused.

"I think so."

"Well, can you imagine me, at the age of eleven, being told I'm a witch?"

"Not really," I said, looking at her. "Anyway, what's this school of yours called?"

"It's called Hogwarts, and it's where they train up witches and wizards."

"So that's what Dean is? A wizard?"

"That's right."

"So what's he like?"

"Dean?" She shrugged. "Dean's okay. He's not top of the class or anything, but he's quite good."

"Who is top of the class?" She went a bit pink. "Don't tell me - you are."

"Well - usually." Which I reckoned meant all the time. And she goes on telling me stuff. Dean reckons I talk too much, but compared with her, I'm an amateur.

Eventually I get to ask a question. "And who's Harry?"

"Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Dunno. The bloke who owns this place."

"That's me," said someone behind me.

"Oh." I turned round and there was this bloke standing there. He looked at me and grinned. A bit of all right, by the look of him.

"Sorry," he said, "but I heard Dean had brought a girlfriend, so I thought I'd check her out." Hermione looked amused by that.

"Well, I'm Olive, and I'm a Muggle."

"Yeah, Lavender told me."

"Her!" They both looked amused again.

"I was brought up by Muggles," he said.

"Oh?" Then I remembered what Dean had told me. "I mean - well, I'm sorry about your parents." He shrugged and looked down at his glass. "And this place is yours?" He nodded, then I realised I'd put my foot in it again. "Oops."

"What?"

"Dean told me about ... was it your godfather?"

"Yeah - but never mind."

I was rescued by another of those red haired kids. "Harry? Neville's here - his grandmother's with him."

"Oh, right - I'd better go and say hello. Catch you later, Olive."

The red haired kid moved up to Hermione, sort of hovering. Hmm, I thought, there's something going on between those two. And there was a kind of family look to that red hair.

"You a brother of those two?" I asked him.

It was his turn to look amused. I seem to spend my time here saying things they all found funny. "The twins? Fred and George?"

"That's them."

"Yeah, I'm their brother Ron - but don't worry ... I've suffered at their hands as much as anyone."

"So that's supposed to make me feel better?"

He shrugged, then takes another look at me. "Hey, is it true - you're ..."

"... a Muggle?" I finished for him. "Yeah. So?"

"Well, er - it's just that ..."

"Don't keep digging, Ron," said Hermione, smiling.

"What?"

"Digging yourself in deeper."

"Oh, right. Well, anyway, you'd better stay away from my dad."

"Why? Is he like Fred and George?"

They both laugh again. "No. It's just that he's fascinated by anything to do with Muggles, and he'll keep you talking for hours."

"Like I'm some kind of freak show?"

"You're that, all right." Dean had come back and caught what I'd just said.

"Yeah? Listen what's talking, then."

They were all right really, I suppose. I still wasn't quite believing it all though. Someone was going to come in any minute and cry 'April Fool' - even if it was the wrong time of year. What really made it come true was at midnight when we went into to the other room to wish Harry a happy birthday.

The room was packed. One good reason for that was a bloke sitting in the corner, who was twice the size of anyone else. And he'd got this woolly hair and beard - scary. Dean saw me looking at him and squeezed my hand. "That's Hagrid. He's the gamekeeper. He's a good bloke."

Well, if Dean thought so, that was good enough for me. Then I saw some of the others. They were weird too. There was this old bloke in the middle of the room, dressed in a really funny way, and he'd got a beard too, but a white one, and it reached all the way down to his waist.

"That's Dumbledore - our headmaster."

"Headmaster??" I looked at him again. No way. Our headmaster was a boring old git in a grey suit. This bloke - he couldn't be a headmaster. Not even of a school like that.

"He is - really. I'll introduce you later."

But then the old bloke held up a hand, and everyone shut up. He then started on about Harry, who stood there looking embarrassed.

"Is Harry something special?" I whispered to Dean, after a couple of minutes of this.

"Kind of. Shush."

Then this - I don't know what it was, sort of small and funny and wrinkled with big ears and big eyes - came up with a birthday cake.

I couldn't help it. "What's that?"

"Shush."

Harry took a knife and went up to the cake, but then the old bloke stopped him.

"I think we can come up with something better than that, Harry."

And he whirled his hand up in the air and came down with this great big sword. Really fancy it was, too, with all sorts of jewels and things. Everyone started whispering.

Harry looked at it, then at the old bloke, then took the sword and started cutting the cake. Everyone started cheering and singing 'Happy birthday'. I could cope with that.

When they started handing round the cake, Dean grabbed my hand and took me up to the old bloke.

"Professor Dumbledore, this is my girlfriend - Olive."

The old man looked at me and suddenly I could see him as a headmaster: it wasn't quite that he scared you, or anything like that, but somehow he was someone you wouldn't lie to, or mess about. But he had a nice smile.

"Very good to meet you, Olive."

"Thank you, sir. By the way, I'm a Muggle."

"Of course." I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "If you had been a witch, you'd have been at Hogwarts."

"It's weird, all this."

"How long have you know about Dean?"

"Oh, just a few hours, I suppose."

"Then it must indeed seem strange." Someone came up to him and whispered in his ear. "You'll have to excuse me," he said to us.

"Come on," I whispered in Dean's ear, "let's go back into the other room." It didn't seem quite as - well, odd in there.

It was really good meeting all of Dean's friends though, after all that time of wondering what exactly was this mysterious school of his. I still wasn't sure I believed it all though - especially when Ron started on about this game played on broomsticks.

But it started getting late, and Dean went off to look for Lavender. He came back looking really pissed off.

"She's gone home."

"We could still use her fireplace."

"Yeah - but then we've got to get out of the house, and I bet it'll be locked. And the buses and trains will have stopped running by now."

Dean was looking really upset, and Harry came over.

"What's the matter?"

Dean told him. Harry looked round. Almost everyone else had gone by now.

"You can stay here for the night if you like."

"Nah, can't ask you to do that."

"It's a big enough house - and there's only me and Remus." I could suddenly see he was working up to another question. He was looking embarrassed. I could see he was wondering whether we'd be sharing.

"If you've got a room, that'd be great," I told him.

"There's a spare room next to mine."

There was quite a big bed in it too: not a double, but big enough for Dean and me. We were both so knackered we went straight to sleep - and it didn't feel right to do stuff in someone else's place like this.

I suppose it was about ten in the morning before we stirred, and we didn't know if the others were up yet. Talk about creepy - even the mirrors in this place talk to you! And no, I'm not telling you what it said. No one else seemed to be around, so we creep downstairs - and everything was neat and tidy again. It had been a fair mess after the party. Then this thing appears again, and I give a little shriek and hide behind Dean. But it bows and says: "Would Harry Potter's friends like some breakfast?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks," says Dean.

"What is it?" I ask Dean in a whisper, but it hears me and gives a deep bow. Weird.

"I am Dobby, miss. I work for Harry Potter."

"Yeah, but what are you?"

"Dobby is a house elf, miss."

"What's one of them?"

"Dobby cleans and cooks for Harry Potter, and looks after his house for him."

"Sounds like me - Olive, the house elf." But it just looks at me. "Right, okay."

"If Harry Potter's friends would follow me ..." And he takes us out and down some stairs to the kitchen. "Please be seated." There's this big table in the middle of the room with chairs around it.

We sit down while the thing - Dobby - starts getting out pots and pans and the rest of it. Five minutes later, there are plates of bacon and egg in front of us. Then Harry comes in, and Dobby bows very low again.

"I'll have some of that too, Dobby," says Harry, and he sits down opposite us. He yawns, and there are black circles under his eyes. "Not so much hung over as knackered."

"Hey - happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks."

He starts on the bacon and egg, and then this other bloke comes in.

"Professor Lupin!" says Dean.

"Just Remus, please. And coffee, if I could, Dobby."

"Professor - I mean, Remus - used to teach us," Dean tells me.

"Oh?"

"Defence Against The Dark Arts," Dean adds. That didn't mean much to me. "You were good, Remus."

"Thanks," the bloke says, sipping at the coffee. He looked rough.

"Too much firewhiskey last night?" Harry asks.

"That hip flask of Mad Eye's - kept on refilling itself."

We laugh.

"So you teach at Hogwarts," I say, proud of getting that right.

He looks at me kind of funny, then says, "Used to."

"Oh?"

He looks up again, then back to his coffee. "Quite a few parents felt that having a werewolf teaching their children wasn't a good idea."

It didn't sink in at first. "A werewolf?" I said that without thinking. He nods. I look at Dean. He nods too. "But ..."

Werewolves? Witches? Wizards? House elves? What was I going to meet next?

The bloke smiles. It wasn't a very nice smile. "Don't worry. You're quite safe. Another week to the full moon."

"What happens then ..." and suddenly I realised I'd asked a very silly question.

"They lock me away," he says. It's one of those moments that whatever you say, it's going to make things worse. But then he looks awkward and says: "Sorry."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you weren't to know. And I've embarrassed you now."

"Well, so what? Anyway, it takes a lot to embarrass me."

"She's right," says Dean, "it does." I give him a punch on the arm. A werewolf? WTF? Better keep the questions until later, I thought. "Still," Dean went on, "we'd better be getting back home. Is there a tube station near here?"

"Ten minute's walk," says Harry. "But you don't have to go yet."

"Olive's mum will be on at me if we're too late back."

"And she's not someone to cross," I tell him.

"Fair enough."

It was slightly awkward - we'd have probably have stayed on if I hadn't put my foot in it. But what do you say when someone tells you he's a werewolf? Anyway, we ought to be getting back - it wasn't as though we'd brought a change of clothes or anything.

We say goodbye to Remus, who gives a rather sad smile. Poor bloke. Then we head up the stairs and outside. It's nice to be in the fresh air. Dean takes my hand and we start walking down the pavement, then something catches the corner of my eye.

"Hey! Where's the house gone?"

Harry smiles. "No going back. Hope you've left nothing behind."

"One of those magic tricks again?"

"Something like that."

We walk along to the station, but just before we get there, I turn and ask Harry a question.

"If a wizard and a Muggle have children, which will they turn out to be?"

I liked the looks on their faces!