Tag: Diana Wynne Jones

#12 Eloise Jenkins

Who doesn’t love a Harry Potter character?

Eloise Jenkins grew up near Cardiff, Wales and attended the local comprehensive. It wasn’t very interesting, save for the few times that her Great Uncle Howell would show up, much to her father’s frustration (who grew up to be quite like his mother is ways that Uncle Howl always sighed dramatically about). He didn’t show up often, though, so her life was quiet and dull for almost eleven long years.

And then a few weeks before her  birthday in June (which, she had been told by her great uncle and his wife Sophie, to never give out; it was advice she took quite seriously because while Uncle Howl could be quite silly at times, Aunt Sophie was often not), a great barn owl appeared on her window sill with a parchment envelope in its beak.

Everything got rather interesting after that.

It was a few years after the Second Great Wizarding War when Eloise attended Hogwarts, so many repairs were still taking place and a whole lot of recovery was going on. These were the reasons why they were so intent on getting her to come, said Uncle Howl, since there had apparently been a Compelling Charm on the letter before he got a hold of it. (Probably the least surprising thing about this whole magic business was that Uncle Howl was a wizard himself, though a self-taught one apparently. It ran in the family, just like parents who didn’t want their children to go, as she’s the first formally trained witch in their family.) However, the fact that it was magic and real was enough for her to overlook things like still-bordered shops and too much black clothing.

Eloise was sorted into Gryffindor, even though wasn’t feeling chivalrous or brave at all. Her lessons went decently enough, but she was far better at theory than application, unless setting things on fire in the first five attempts was an acceptable course of action. Potions and Herbology were her best subjects in First and Second Year, and the less said about her Transfiguration grade the better. In Second Year, she worked up the nerve to try out for Chaser, didn’t even make reserves, and then was inconsolable for hours afterwards. And covered in green slime.

In Third Year, she signed up for Arithomancy, which she loved, Divination, which she did not like at all until Uncle Howl finally decided to help her (which he didn’t because the magic he knew was much different than what she was learning) and sent her a magic eight ball. Not like one of those silly Muggle toys which gave out ambiguous answers at best, but a proper enchanted magic eight ball that nearly landed her in a lot of trouble. Apparently being able to spy on anyone no matter where they were as long as you knew their name (unless you were Uncle Howl or Aunt Sophie for some reason) was nearly as bad as the fact that it was an enchanted Muggle object that resisted deenchantment.

She tried out for Keeper in Fourth Year, and was explicitly forbidden by her dorm-mates from ever trying out for Quidditch positions because green slime in the bathroom again.

In Fifth Year, she went mildly insane with OWLs nerves, which was perfectly acceptable. What was not acceptable was the coffee-drinking at all hours of the day for nearly five days straight before passing out mid-sentence and tumbling down a flight of stairs. She still passed most of her OWLs, aside from Transfiguration.

Her Sixth Year was much quieter than her previous years, given that most of the reconstruction was nearly done. Teachers resettled into their old classrooms and quite a lot of mix-ups occurred. Aside from losing her way to class too many times to count in September, Eloise was quite bored. The reduced number of courses was no good for her – or maybe it was the lack of Transfiguration, which caused enough fright and frustration for eight whole classes – so now she went off looking for trouble. Not into the Forbidden Forest, no, but the Restricted Section was quite interesting. What was especially interesting was the whole section on other worlds and portals and making them, and the ghostly whiteness of her great uncle’s face when she managed to open a door to Ingary.

Eloise Jenkins was never bored after that.