The Loft
Location: The Weasley-Granger House
Date: 25th July 2017
Time: 2:20 pm
Rose just wanted to get away from it all. Her parents were having a little “get-together”, which normally wasn’t a bad thing. Normally, being the key word. However, today Hugo had gone to visit his friend, Sam, leaving Rose alone. As Rose was quite “an eloquent young lady” (as her mother put it anyway), she was invited to join the adults in the sitting room. Rose had politely but firmly declined. She had nothing against the people whom her mother worked with, but… well they were rather boring. Rose had then promptly retired to the loft, where she now sat.
It was late July and if one had cared to step outside that day, they would have been sweating within moments. Rose giggled slightly, as her mind conjured up an image of her brother and his friend flying around outside on Cleansweeps, drenched in sweat. The loft, on the other hand, held no such problems. A breeze drifted in from the open window, fluttering the curtains slightly. Rose was surprised by how cool the gentle drift of wind felt on her skin. Okay, Rose thought to herself, this place isn’t really a loft; it’s more of an attic actually. It was at this moment that a memory surfaced unexpectedly.
“What’s up there, Mum?” said a tiny Rose, tugging gently on her mother’s sleeve. Hermione Weasley turned to look at her daughter and smiled good-naturedly. “That,” she said, “is the attic.” “Can I see? Can I see?” Rose clamoured eagerly. “Well, I suppose you can. If it’s okay with your father, of course.” At these words, both mother and daughter turned to the third member of the Weasley clan. Ron stood there silently and ran his fingers through his red hair. “Well…” he began. “Oh, please!” a little voice piped up. Everyone swivelled around, to face the direction the voice had come from. Unbeknownst to them, Hugo Weasley had toddled his way down the hall to where they were standing. Hermione scooped him up into his arms and looked down at him, a quizzical expression on her face. “How did you get out?” she queried in a puzzled tone. Hugo giggled and pointed to the playpen. The family groaned in unison. “That’s the third time this month!” exclaimed Ron. It is hard to describe exactly what the playpen looked like, but it would be fair to say that no Muggle could have fixed it. “Reparo,” Hermione said, brandishing her wand. Perturbed at being ignored, Rose tugged her mother’s sleeve again. “Oh, all right,” Hermione said. The four Weasleys ascended the steps into the attic. Rose was immediately enamoured by the attic, “Wow.” “This is the attic,” Ron swept his arm around the small room, in an encompassing movement. Rose wrinkled her nose slightly, “Attic sounds so plain. Can we call it the loft?”
And from then on it was known as the loft and nothing else. It was Rose’s thinking place, the place where she played games, wrote stories, had adventures. Adventures, Rose thought. One of the biggest adventures she would ever have would not be in this loft. It was a sobering thought and one that made Rose quite sad. That “biggest adventure” would of course be going to Hogwarts. She had received her letter at the start of the month and now that they were almost in August, the time when she would go to Hogwarts loomed. She remembered how thrilled she had been when she had gotten her letter. Now, she couldn’t replicate that same feeling of excitement and anticipation.
A glint of sunlight caught her eye and she turned. The sun was reflecting off the glass prisms she had begged her mother to buy from a Muggle market. The walls sparkled with coloured rainbows. Rose laughed out loud, no longer focused on the future or the past, just happy to be in the present. Her worries, if they ever returned, could wait for another day.
Date: 25th July 2017
Time: 2:20 pm
Rose just wanted to get away from it all. Her parents were having a little “get-together”, which normally wasn’t a bad thing. Normally, being the key word. However, today Hugo had gone to visit his friend, Sam, leaving Rose alone. As Rose was quite “an eloquent young lady” (as her mother put it anyway), she was invited to join the adults in the sitting room. Rose had politely but firmly declined. She had nothing against the people whom her mother worked with, but… well they were rather boring. Rose had then promptly retired to the loft, where she now sat.
It was late July and if one had cared to step outside that day, they would have been sweating within moments. Rose giggled slightly, as her mind conjured up an image of her brother and his friend flying around outside on Cleansweeps, drenched in sweat. The loft, on the other hand, held no such problems. A breeze drifted in from the open window, fluttering the curtains slightly. Rose was surprised by how cool the gentle drift of wind felt on her skin. Okay, Rose thought to herself, this place isn’t really a loft; it’s more of an attic actually. It was at this moment that a memory surfaced unexpectedly.
“What’s up there, Mum?” said a tiny Rose, tugging gently on her mother’s sleeve. Hermione Weasley turned to look at her daughter and smiled good-naturedly. “That,” she said, “is the attic.” “Can I see? Can I see?” Rose clamoured eagerly. “Well, I suppose you can. If it’s okay with your father, of course.” At these words, both mother and daughter turned to the third member of the Weasley clan. Ron stood there silently and ran his fingers through his red hair. “Well…” he began. “Oh, please!” a little voice piped up. Everyone swivelled around, to face the direction the voice had come from. Unbeknownst to them, Hugo Weasley had toddled his way down the hall to where they were standing. Hermione scooped him up into his arms and looked down at him, a quizzical expression on her face. “How did you get out?” she queried in a puzzled tone. Hugo giggled and pointed to the playpen. The family groaned in unison. “That’s the third time this month!” exclaimed Ron. It is hard to describe exactly what the playpen looked like, but it would be fair to say that no Muggle could have fixed it. “Reparo,” Hermione said, brandishing her wand. Perturbed at being ignored, Rose tugged her mother’s sleeve again. “Oh, all right,” Hermione said. The four Weasleys ascended the steps into the attic. Rose was immediately enamoured by the attic, “Wow.” “This is the attic,” Ron swept his arm around the small room, in an encompassing movement. Rose wrinkled her nose slightly, “Attic sounds so plain. Can we call it the loft?”
And from then on it was known as the loft and nothing else. It was Rose’s thinking place, the place where she played games, wrote stories, had adventures. Adventures, Rose thought. One of the biggest adventures she would ever have would not be in this loft. It was a sobering thought and one that made Rose quite sad. That “biggest adventure” would of course be going to Hogwarts. She had received her letter at the start of the month and now that they were almost in August, the time when she would go to Hogwarts loomed. She remembered how thrilled she had been when she had gotten her letter. Now, she couldn’t replicate that same feeling of excitement and anticipation.
A glint of sunlight caught her eye and she turned. The sun was reflecting off the glass prisms she had begged her mother to buy from a Muggle market. The walls sparkled with coloured rainbows. Rose laughed out loud, no longer focused on the future or the past, just happy to be in the present. Her worries, if they ever returned, could wait for another day.