I could see her, from the shadows, walking the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, her eyes taking in the filth and misery around her. A sneer graced her hollowed face and a wand was in her hand, but I didn't care. I had everything I needed: my little bowl for change and my rocks. My rocks, all sorted by type, lustre, texture, and color. I had loved rocks for years, and even before my parents found out about Hogwarts, they had urged me to become a geologist - and I nearly did. Magic was fun, but rocks were far better.
I could feel a chill over my bones, and I turned to see a pair of high, black boots standing in front of me. I looked up, only to see the woman who had been walking down the street. To me, she looked unhappy.
"Oh, hello," I said cheerfully. "Are you admiring my rock collection, or do you want to contribute? I'm an important person you know, but it's obvious you're much more important than I am. My, are you unsavory? That scowl on your face is really unbecoming, and you should do something with your hair - make it more tidy -"
"Shut up!" the woman snarled. "Why aren't you looking at me? Look me in the eyes, like the filthy Mudblood you are! Show some respect."
I found that behavior rather rude, and I didn't feel like looking into her eyes, so I continued to stare somewhere above and to the left of her navel. "Well, I'm just implying that being pleasant to others is a better way, and you
could do with some respect: I have the greatest rock collection in Diagon Alley. Look at all of the geodes and slate, truly marvelous! Do you want a closer look?"
"I don't give a damn about rocks!" the woman hissed, and suddenly I recognized her: the Lestrange girl that I had gone to school with. She had never liked me, but, then again, not many people had. They called me 'odd' or 'strange' or 'mad'. In my opinion, those were good names for a wizard - and a geologist.
Regardless, it would be impolite not to point out the obvious. "Miss Lestrange, I don't want any trouble now, but you see, I am the most important person on this block -"
The woman did something odd then. She laughed, very hard. She even had to clutch her stomach. I was bewildered. What was so funny?
"And I would think that you should show me more respect," I continued sternly. "Unless you want to see my rocks -"
Abruptly she stopped laughing. "I remember you, now. The deranged little boy who needed counseling all the time." Her smile grew wider, and I could only assume that a warm hug (and maybe even a warm meal) might follow it.
Instead, she pointed her wand at my rocks - my rocks - and said slowly, relishing the words, "Reducto!
I could only scream when the bolt made my rocks crumble, breaking apart into thousands of pieces, bits of dust and grit, unrecoverable. Destroyed.
"You r-ruined it," I stammered, tears already coming to my eyes. "Y-you d-destroyed them all! How could you? H-how could
you?" I was already on my hands and knees, trying to salvage anything I could.
But when I turned back to plead for help from my old schoolmate, I could only see her walking away, muttering 'retarded Mudblood' under her breath.
She left me alone, in my little niche, with my tears, and my shattered collection of rocks.