Month: June 2025

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When Learning Changes: What I Learned from Supporting a Student with Young-Onset Dementia

This image is AI-generated

When I first started working in special education (SPED), I knew that it would be a different type of challenge. I never thought that I would also work with adults who are neurodiverse. This job came with many issues that I was never taught to deal with in school, and it took much research and heart to really give the students the best resources necessary.

Like any other job, your education doesn’t stop in the classroom, and you never really stop learning about your field. Tailoring Individualized Education Programs (IEP) for students is an ongoing job that requires constant monitoring and changes.

I have worked with many students who need different types of support. However, it was only recently that I started working with a young adult who lives with a condition I had never heard of.

Young-onset dementia (YOD), also known as early-onset dementia, refers to any form of dementia that begins before the age of 65. It accounts for approximately 5–10% of all dementia cases and can start as early as age 30. The most common causes include Alzheimer’s disease, frontotemporal dementia (FTD), vascular dementia, and Lewy body dementia, though some cases result from rare genetic or metabolic disorders.

While symptoms such as memory loss, communication difficulties, and impaired judgment are typical, YOD can present differently than late-onset forms, often with early personality or behavioral changes— particularly in cases of FTD. Because dementia is unexpected in younger individuals, it is frequently misdiagnosed as depression, anxiety, or stress, leading to delays in treatment. Diagnosis typically requires neuropsychological testing, brain imaging, and specialist evaluation.

The impact of YOD is profound: individuals are often still employed, raising children, or paying off loans, and support services tend to be limited for this age group. The emotional and financial burden can be significant. According to the Alzheimer’s Association and research by Rossor et al. (2010) in “The Lancet Neurology,” early diagnosis and age-appropriate support are critical to improving quality of life and care outcomes for those affected by YOD.

Helping a college student cope with young-onset dementia (YOD)—defined as dementia diagnosed before age 65—requires an interdisciplinary and compassionate approach that supports cognitive, emotional, and social well-being.

1. Academic Accommodations:
Universities can offer academic accommodations through disability services, including extended time on tests, note-taking support, and flexibility in course loads. Individuals with YOD benefit from environmental adjustments that reduce cognitive load and improve routine predictability. 

2. Cognitive Rehabilitation:
Cognitive rehabilitation strategies, such as memory aids, electronic calendars, and organizational apps, can help students maintain daily functioning. A study by Clare et al. (2019) found that goal-oriented cognitive rehabilitation improved self-efficacy in those with early-stage dementia.

3. Peer and Emotional Support:
Social isolation can worsen cognitive decline. Facilitating peer support groups or connecting students with others facing similar challenges is essential. Van Vliet et al. (2011) emphasize the psychological burden of YOD and the need for early psychological intervention to address grief, stigma, and identity disruption.

4. Mental Health Services:
Therapy and psychiatric care are crucial. Depression and anxiety frequently co-occur with YOD, impacting academic performance and quality of life. Early mental health intervention improves coping mechanisms and emotional resilience (American Journal of Geriatric Psychiatry, 25(3): 291–300).

5. Inclusive Campus Policies:
Institutions must create dementia-inclusive environments. Dementia-friendly initiatives, such as faculty training and signage improvements, foster dignity and reduce stress for students with YOD (Clemerson et al., Dementia, 13(6): 700–717).

Support must be person-centered, emphasizing autonomy, dignity, and participation in academic and social life. Interventions should evolve in tandem with the student’s needs, promoting inclusion and psychological safety.

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The Cognitive Benefits of Video Games for Neurodiverse Children

For decades, hundreds—if not thousands—of research papers by respected professionals have outlined the potential benefits of video games for children and adults with neurological conditions such as autism, sensory processing disorders, and even epilepsy, provided the individual is not photosensitive.

When deemed safe, individuals with epilepsy may benefit from specific types of video games, particularly those that involve puzzle-solving or survival-based gameplay. Certain forms of epilepsy are associated with memory and cognitive processing challenges, and in such cases, the brain may require more frequent stimulation than a neurotypical brain. Memory-based games, such as Dr. Kawashima’s Brain Training and Big Brain Academy, can help strengthen recall and cognitive endurance, while more complex open-world games offer continuous opportunities to exercise both memory and problem-solving skills. In fact, as one study notes, “The well-defined structural problem-solving of neuropsychological tests likely is fitted to reflect aptitude in algorithmic thinking, whereas the ill-defined and iterative problem-solving required in real-life situations draws more upon awareness and reflective thinking.”

Despite recent efforts by parents and educators to limit screen time, if a game demonstrably supports a child’s cognitive or emotional development, it should be considered part of their allowed screen time. That said, if a child prefers to use their screen time for other activities, there are alternative ways to stimulate their brain outside of gaming.

It is critical that games do not induce stress, as elevated stress levels can trigger seizures or exacerbate symptoms in children with neurological conditions. The goal is therapeutic support, not overstimulation. Games that promote exploration and critical thinking in low-pressure environments are ideal.

One example is The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. This open-world game allows players to move at their own pace, free from the stress of strict time limits or punitive consequences. If a particular challenge becomes frustrating or overwhelming, the player can simply walk away from the task or exit the game altogether without penalty. The game also offers both short-term and long-term goals, allowing players to track their progress. This structure helps develop a sense of accomplishment, sustain motivation, and cultivate planning and time-management skills over time.

From personal experience, I’ve seen video games help neurodiverse children enhance their problem-solving abilities. That said, parents must be mindful in selecting games that support growth rather than provoke frustration. Like any tool, video games can become harmful if misused—excessive screen time or gaming addiction can interfere with responsibilities and contribute to emotional dysregulation. Ultimately, it is up to each parent to evaluate whether gaming is beneficial for their child and to maintain a healthy balance.

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I Slept on the Beach

2014
Newport Beach, CA

11 years ago, I slept on the beach.

I brought a book and I read it in the ocean. I don’t remember the name of the book. It doesn’t matter. I sat in the water and slowly sank into the sand as the waves washed in and out and back and forth.

I remember it being hot. So hot… but when I look it up, the high was only 87 that August, but the waves that washed over cooled me.

At some point, I dropped the book into the sand, and the waves washed it away. My feet were still buried in the wet, heavy sand, but I was stretched out on the sand with my eyes shut, dreaming as the waves washed over me and immediately pulled away.

The lullaby of the waves rocked me to sleep. It was soft and reliable. I knew when it was leaving and I knew when it was coming back—a clean aroma mingling with the faint scent of sun-warmed salt, anchoring me in the present moment. The warm sun on my face, the refreshing chill of the water sliding over my skin, and the wet, heavy sand pressing softly against my feet.

The ocean took care of me.

Each wave rolled in gently, like a hand smoothing out creases in a bedsheet, brushing over my skin and pulling away before I could fully wake. The coolness wasn’t jarring—it was tender, almost motherly. It lulled me deeper into sleep, quieting everything inside me. My body, half-submerged and softened by the sand, felt weightless. The heat of the sun on my back faded into the background, replaced by the steady hush of water meeting shore. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t dreaming. I was just there—held, cooled, cradled by something vast and indifferent, and somehow, that made me feel safe.

Sleeping on the beach made me feel like I belonged to the landscape, not as a visitor, but as something native, natural. The way the sand molded to my body, how the tide came close but never too close, it felt like the earth had made room for me. The wind skimmed across my skin without asking questions. The gulls overhead didn’t care who I was or what I did. And as I dozed off, the hush of the waves whispered as if I’d always been there—some lost piece of driftwood that had finally washed home. I wasn’t trying to be anywhere else. I wasn’t trying at all. For once, I wasn’t observing nature—I was part of it. Folded into it. Accepted without effort.

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Drowning

My pool has been closed for months. I have nowhere to go. The Newport Coast Community Pool—my sanctuary—was drained, its cement smashed and cleared away. I don’t know how they plan to remodel it or when it will reopen. All I know is I have nowhere to swim.

It might sound trivial. It may sound privileged. But you don’t understand—I need to swim.

When I swim, I don’t have to think. My body moves on instinct—fluid, certain. Everything falls into rhythm. I glide forward without resistance, without friction, and before I realize it, I’ve reached the end.

And I exhale.

I need that relief because I don’t know if I have any other healthy outlet for the stress that I carry. And it’s not just my own stress. I carry the weight of others, too—my clients, their families, my grieving friends, and the chaos my partner faces at work.

When I swim, I don’t think. I just go. I concentrate on counting laps and not hitting the wall. Before I knew it, I’ve swum a mile. Every spring, when I jump back in the pool, I swim a straight mile despite not swimming since last October.

Besides a glass of wine or two… a shot or two… a cocktail or two… It’s the only form of stress relief I have left. It’s the only healthy form of relief I have.

Now, there’s no relief. Days are spent carrying my clients’ stress. Weekends, I absorb the grief of my friends. And always, the silent weight of my partner’s struggle at work.

Days are spent carrying my clients’ stress. Weekends, I absorb the grief of my friends. And always, the silent weight of my partner’s struggle at work.

I sit at the desk. I sit on the sofa. I sit up in my bed, waiting to fall asleep. I don’t want to sit anymore.

My body aches to move, but there’s nowhere to go. No place to stretch, to breathe, to release the weight I carry. The stillness has settled into my bones.

Without the water to hold me, I’m sinking beneath everything I’m supposed to stay afloat for.

I’m drowning.

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Huntington Beach Reads: Measures A and B Have Passed

The so-called “Parent Review Board” at the Huntington Beach Public Library has been disbanded.

And Chad “Porn Man” Williams has conceded.

The public library remains one of the last truly inclusive spaces in our community—welcoming to everyone, regardless of race, sexual orientation, or income. It offers a wealth of resources without asking anything in return. It is not a place for political agendas.

I’m not a parent. I’m not a teacher. I’m not a librarian.

I’m a private tutor. I help children thrive—both inside and outside the classroom. Many of the parents I work with are immigrants whose first language isn’t English, and some have resources that most families can only dream of.

One of my students is a nine-year-old who absolutely loves to read. I’ve worked with him since he was four, when he didn’t speak a word of English. I taught him to read. Today, he reads at a 10th-grade level. As someone partially responsible for his education, one of my most important tasks is choosing the books he reads. I stay current on newly published titles, follow his favorite authors, discover rising voices, and research books that reflect his interests—as well as books that challenge him to grow.

This past school year alone, I’ve purchased over $2,000 worth of books for him—ranging from novels and comic books to science texts, historical fiction, and nonfiction. Over his lifetime, it’s probably closer to $10,000. He’s read them all. But the reality is, most parents don’t have that kind of budget.

That’s why many families rely on the public library.

They trust that the books on those shelves were chosen by educated professionals with children’s growth in mind. They trust the library to broaden their kids’ horizons—especially families who didn’t get the chance to read widely themselves and want more for their children.

Immigrant parents. Working-class parents. Parents who may not speak English fluently or have formal education. They trust me to guide their children’s learning. And they trust librarians to do the same.

Librarians do this work not for power or profit, but out of a deep belief in education and access. That’s their job—and they do it well.

This vote was never about “protecting our children”—it was about government overreach, the fight against censorship, and the defense of our fundamental rights.

So when someone tries to turn the library into a political battlefield, it’s not just offensive—it’s dangerous.

Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t trust the judgment of a teen-mom high school dropout and Chad “Porn Man” Williams to curate your children’s reading material— actually… yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. The choice is ultimately yours– and if a parent wishes to defer their child’s education to these two, I suggest they contact Williams’ office for the time and location for his next book club meeting.

Let this be the end of it. 

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Chapter 10: Across the Black Lake

The train hissed and groaned as it slowed to a stop, steam billowing around the windows. With a final jolt, the Hogwarts Express came to rest beneath the deepening dusk sky. All around them, the chatter of excited students rose like birdsong, echoing off the nearby cliffs.

Duchess stood up, smoothing the sleeves of her black robe. Melody bounced in her seat beside her, already reaching for her trunk.

“We’re here! Do you think the castle’s really as big as they say?” Melody asked, her eyes wide.

“Probably bigger,” Duchess said quietly, grabbing her satchel from under her seat.

Melody stopped tugging on her trunk and turned to Duchess. “Wait—where’s all your stuff?”

Duchess froze for a moment, her hand still clutching the worn leather strap of her bag. She remembered Hermione’s voice, firm and clear: “Never tell anyone about the satchel, not even your friends. It’s protected.”

Duchess pasted on a polite smile. “Oh, my mum sent my things ahead of time. She thought it would be easier.”

Melody blinked, then shrugged. “Wish my mum thought of that.”

Outside, students were hauling their trunks off the train, stacking them on the stone platform, and running off into the fog, their laughter trailing behind them.

A booming voice rang out over the crowd: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

The sea of students parted slightly, and a woman nearly seven feet tall stood at the edge of the platform, waving one enormous arm. Her thick brown braid was slung over one shoulder, and her cloak flapped dramatically in the breeze.

“Oi, you lot! First years this way! I’m Olyvette—Olyvette Maxim Hagrid!”

Duchess and Melody joined the trickle of younger students moving toward her. Olyvette beamed down at them.

“My dad was Rubeus Hagrid,” she announced proudly. “He’s the one who saved Harry Potter when You-Know-Who first tried to kill him as a baby. Dad helped Harry through every year at Hogwarts—well, six and a half years, anyway.”

The kids around Duchess exchanged glances.

“Wait,” Melody whispered, “why only six and a half?”

“Harry left in the middle of seventh year,” Olyvette explained, clearly overhearing. “Ran off to help defeat You-Know-Who. But after he finished him off, Hogwarts gave him an honorary degree anyway. He earned it. Him and my dad are still mates. As for my mum—she was headmistress of Beauxbatons in France. Both retired now. They’re off traveling the world, looking for magical beasts.”

The students oohed and murmured in awe.

“Now then, follow me! Boats this way!” Olyvette said.

They trudged down a narrow path, the mist thickening the farther they went. As they rounded a bend, the lake came into view—vast, black, and eerily still. Small wooden boats bobbed at the shore, lanterns flickering on their prows.

Duchess shivered. The cold cut straight through her robe.

“You cold?” Melody asked, noticing.

“A little,” Duchess admitted. “I’m used to… well, it doesn’t really get cold where I’m from.”

Melody grinned. “You mean the Southern California place again?”

Duchess nodded.

They climbed into a boat with two other first-years. Duchess wrapped her arms tightly around her satchel, trying not to let her teeth chatter. The water beneath them was pitch black, like spilled ink, and Duchess could see nothing beneath the surface—no fish, no reflections, no light.

The boat rocked slightly as it moved, paddling itself as if steered by an invisible hand. Around them, dozens of boats drifted silently across the glassy lake. Above, the castle loomed—lit up in golden warmth against the navy sky, its towers and spires reflecting in the water below.

“It’s beautiful,” Melody whispered.

Duchess said nothing. She was too busy watching the water, hoping she wouldn’t see anything… or worse, that something might see her.

When they reached the dock, Duchess hesitated.

“C’mon,” Melody said, hopping out.

But Duchess’s legs felt locked. One misstep and she’d be in the freezing water.

“Need help?” Olyvette called from the front.

Duchess shook her head and stepped off the boat, careful to avoid the tiny gap between wood and stone. Her boots landed safely, and she let out a slow breath.

“Form two lines now! Let’s keep it tidy!” Olyvette called.

The students fell in line, and Duchess found herself walking behind Melody, the path winding slowly upward toward the immense front doors of Hogwarts.

The castle was close now, glowing in the mist like a beacon. Duchess tied her satchel underneath her robes, the only warm thing she had, and followed the others into the unknown.

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Chapter 9: Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans

Melody bounced in her seat, unwrapping a Pumpkin Pastie. “You have to try one—like a warm hug in pastry form!” Duchess smiled politely. Melody pushed a box of Bertie Bott’s toward her. “Every Flavor Beans—every flavor. I once got sardine and soap. Roulette for your tongue!” She pulled out a Chocolate Frog next. “They jump! Eat it fast. And it comes with a famous witch or wizard card.” A frog leapt past Duchess’s elbow. “Oops!” Melody giggled. “Last—Cauldron Cakes. Gooey, chocolatey, and technically not cursed anymore.” Duchess raised an eyebrow. “Anymore?” Melody winked. “Don’t worry. I only brought safe snacks.”

A trolley clattered to a stop outside their compartment. A plump witch with curly gray hair peeked in.

“Anything off the trolley, dears?”

Melody’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please! Oh, Duchess, you have to try—”

But Duchess was already standing. “We’ll take two of everything,” she said, reaching for her satchel.

The witch blinked. “Two of everything?”

Duchess smiled. “To thank Melody for all her treats.”

Moments later, their compartment was overflowing with Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

They sat cross-legged on the train seats, surrounded by wrappers and laughter.

“I think we might explode,” Melody groaned.

“Worth it,” Duchess grinned.

Chapter 10: Across the Black Lake

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Chapter 8: Platform 9 ¾ and The Hogwarts Express

The next week, Kim and Ben woke Duchess up early in their hotel room at 7AM. It was time to go to the train station.

The morning fog curled around King’s Cross Station, dampening the cobblestones and softening the world to a hush. Duchess stood between her parents, her small hand tucked firmly into her mother’s elbow. Her glittering silver hair caught the soft light as she turned to stare at the towering woman who had just approached them—Hermione Granger, Minister of Magic herself.

“Good morning,” Hermione said with a warm smile that felt both familiar and dazzling. “You must be Duchess.”

Duchess nodded, her other hand tightening around the handle of her golden cat carrier. Hermione gently took it from her.

“Let me,” she said. “I adore cats.”

The orange tabby inside blinked slowly through the grates as if it, too, recognized the gravity of the moment.

Kim, Duchess’s mother, squeezed her daughter’s arm as they walked, her own voice low and uncertain. “I don’t know where we’re going, either,” she admitted softly. “But just stay close.”

Hermione led them briskly through the station toward Platforms 9 and 10. “We’re headed to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters,” she explained. “To get there, you just walk straight through that wall.”

Ben laughed nervously. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t overthink it,” Hermione said. “Just a bit of speed and don’t hesitate.”

Duchess looked up at the solid brick archway and took a breath. With her mother’s fingers wrapped around her elbow and her heart pounding in her chest, they rushed forward—then vanished cleanly through the barrier.

The other side was something out of a dream. The air smelled faintly of smoke and sugar. A gleaming red steam engine—the Hogwarts Express—sat puffing on the tracks. Wizard families bustled around them, cloaks fluttering, trunks levitating, owls hooting impatiently in cages overhead. Children were everywhere, some already in their school robes, others still in jeans and sneakers, holding wands like they were toy swords.

Duchess turned to her parents, her voice caught somewhere between awe and goodbye. She threw her arms around them, first her father, then her mother, holding tight as the seconds dwindled.

Kim turned to Hermione, anxious. “Can she bring her phone? How will we talk to her?”

Hermione hesitated. “I’m afraid Muggle technology doesn’t work well at Hogwarts—the magic interferes with it. But don’t worry. I’ll set up a way for her to check in with you regularly. I promise.”

That was all the reassurance they would get. With a final kiss to her daughter’s silver hair, Kim stepped back, slipping her hand into Ben’s. The two of them would be on a plane back to the States within the hour, the rest of their day swallowed in quiet disbelief.

Hermione guided Duchess toward the train. “Go ahead and sit anywhere. The trolley will come by shortly—you can buy a treat if you like,” and Hermione turned around and left the trolley so quickly, Duchess didn’t even notice. It was like she just disappeared into thin air.

Duchess stepped onto the train with trembling legs, her cat carrier bumping gently against her knee. Most compartments were already half-full, but she finally spotted one with a single girl seated by the window. The girl wore plain black robes, just like hers. No house emblem yet.

“Hi,” Duchess said, sliding the door open. “Can I sit here?”

The girl looked up and grinned. “Of course.”

She had short purple hair—vivid purple—and eyes like storm clouds.

“I’m Melody,” she said. “First year too?” she asked, seeing Duchess’s robe didn’t have a house emblem either.

“Yeah,” Duchess replied, settling across from her. “I’m Duchess.”

Melody twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers. “I’m a Metamorphmagus,” she added casually. “I can change how I look—my hair, my face—but only one thing at a time. I wanted purple today.” Duchess hadn’t asked, but Melody could tell she was curious by how awestruck she looked.

Duchess blinked. “You can do that without a wand?”

“Mm-hmm. Just born with it. You have brilliant hair!” Duchess blushed. “Is it like that all the time?”

“Yes. I was just born like this. People always wondered why I looked so different. I’m half Asian, and my mom has jet-black hair, while my dad has blonde hair. Who knows what happened to me… It’s kind of funny, though. Sometimes it’s more blue than silver, and sometimes it’s more silver than blue. I can’t control it, though.”

“I love it!” Duchess smiled at Melody, whose hair had turned back to her natural brown.

The train rumbled beneath them, soft and steady like a heartbeat. Duchess leaned her head against the window for a moment, watching the blurred streaks of green hills fly past. Across from her, Melody shifted in her seat, her legs crisscrossed, her vivid purple hair catching the chandelier’s glow.

“I love your accent,” Melody said suddenly, her voice full of curiosity. “Where are you from?”

Duchess smiled. “California.”

Melody’s eyes lit up. “No way! I know all about California! That’s where they make all the movies and television shows, right? My parents are both wizards, but they let me watch Muggle telly growing up. I’m obsessed. I don’t get how they make such amazing shows without magic.”

Duchess laughed softly. “They use technology—cameras, special effects, editing. People call it ‘TV magic,’ but it’s not real magic. Just a lot of time, effort, and… patience, I guess.”

Melody leaned forward, clearly fascinated. “That’s wild. You’d think they were using spells. The dragons, the explosions—have you seen that show with the thrones and the icy zombies? I swear those dragons looked real.”

“Yeah, the effects are amazing,” Duchess agreed. “But I’m not from L.A., where all the studios are. I live about two hours south of there, near the beach.”

Melody tilted her head. “What’s it like?”

“Quiet,” Duchess said, her voice softer now. “More natural. There’s salt in the air all the time, and the wind comes off the ocean like it’s bringing you secrets. Everything slows down at night. I think… I think I’ll miss it.”

Melody studied her for a moment, her purple ponytail swaying gently as the train rocked.

“You’ve got a bit of ocean in you,” she said. “That calm sparkle, y’know? You’ll be okay. Hogwarts has its own kind of magic.”

Duchess smiled again, this time a little deeper, a little steadier.

“I hope so,” she said.

The train gave a low whistle and began to rumble forward. Duchess leaned back, a swirl of emotion tugging at her chest—excitement, fear, wonder, everything layered on top of everything.

Melody tilted her head. “It’s a long trip—about nine hours. You should nap. It’s going to be a big evening.”

Duchess nodded. How can she nap sitting up? Plus, the train was bustling with such interesting personalities, she couldn’t help but stay wide awake and soak everything in. Melody couldn’t nap either. She talked and talked like she hadn’t had anyone to talk to in months.

“When we get there,” Melody continued, “we’ll get sorted into houses, eat a huge dinner, and then they’ll show us where we sleep. Tomorrow, after breakfast, one of the prefects from your house will give you a tour and all that.”

“I’m glad I’ve met you. I don’t know anyone there. No one’s told me anything about the school.”

“Well, I don’t know everything. I only know what my sister has told me. She’s 2 years older and she’s already at Hogwarts. She answered a lot of questions for me at home, but she said she’s only answering them now so I don’t talk to her at school. I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know her. So, I guess I don’t know anyone there, either.”

“You know me!” Duchess said brightly.

As the landscape blurred outside the window and the steady rhythm of the train lulled her, Duchess rested her cheek against the seat back and exhaled. As she finally shut her eyes, she saw Melody’s hair start to sparkle just like her own.

They were on their way to Hogwarts.

Chapter 9: A Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans

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Chapter 7: Look the Part

“Next, you need to get your school robes. You will need formal school robes and everyday robes. Everyday robes are black with the school logo and your house logo on it. You won’t know what house you are a part of until you go through the sorting ceremony. That is… you will find out what house you are a part of and you will live and take classes with your group. Now, you’re not required to have your house logo on your robe. Some people are proud of their house, some people think it’s too cliquey, but all the houses get along very well, now. It was more competitive when I was in school.”

“I need a whole new wardrobe?” Duchess asked.

“You can wear whatever you want when you’re not in class, as long as it is school-appropriate,” Hermione replied with a warning. Duchess didn’t think she had anything that wasn’t school appropriate. Why would she?

“Where do we go for that?” Duchess asked, eager to visit the next shop.

“Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.” Hermione and Duchess continued down the path together.

Duchess stepped through the arched doorway of Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, the little bell above the door chiming like a charmed teacup. Bolts of shimmering fabric floated midair, sorting themselves by color, while a mannequin twirled in the corner wearing a velvet green cape that glowed faintly at the hem. Duchess blinked at the soft golden light filtering through the enchanted windows and took a cautious step forward, her worn trainers squeaking slightly on the polished wooden floor. A plump witch with spectacles perched on the end of her nose appeared from behind a curtain, a measuring tape already wriggling in her hand like a charmed snake.

“First year, are you?” Madame Malkin asked, her eyes already scanning Duchess’s frame.

“Yes, ma’am,” Duchess said, smoothing the front of her Muggle hoodie. “I need… everything.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Step up, darling.” Madame Malkin gestured to a footstool with a tap of her wand. “You’ll want at least three sets—black for daily wear, plus one for formal functions. Hold still, now.” As the measuring tape wrapped itself around Duchess’s waist and shoulders, she caught sight of herself in the tall mirror. For a moment, she saw not just herself, but the student she was about to become—robes billowing, wand in hand, spellbooks under one arm. She couldn’t help but grin.

“Put your animals over on that counter there, or give them to your parents to hold,” she requested.

“No,” Duchess said. “They’re mine.”

“How am I going to measure you?”

“I’ve never had a pet before. Please?” Madame Malkin let out a big exhale,

“Okay…” As Madame Malkin took her measurements, she looked up and smiled at her parents, who were tearfully watching her get ready to leave them for the year. “Now, since you’re a first-year, we don’t know what house you will be in. I’m just going to use the Hufflepuff emblems temporarily so I can make sure everything is in the right place when I take your measurements. It’s the only house emblem I can use. The kids who think they’ll be in Slytherin don’t want to wear anything with Gryffindor on it. And vice versa. The ravenclaws and hufflepuffs don’t mind any emblem, so it was just easier to pick one of those houses. I just can’t measure properly without the emblem on it. It might be too high or too low. Don’t worry, though, after you get sorted into your house, the emblem will transform automatically to reflect that.”

“How many will she need?” Kimberly asked Madam Malkin.

“It will be her daily wear, so we don’t want just one robe, do we? Arms out.” Madam Malkin instructed, and the tape measure flew, as if measuring the Duchess on its own. Madam Malkin walked over to her parents with a notepad.

“She will only need to purchase one set per year. Children grow fast, you know. So, I design the robes to fit her perfectly, but will alter them up to 2 inches. It automatically adjusts throughout the year, and whenever she needs new robes, she can come or, at the beginning of the next term, get new ones made that will automatically adjust another 2 inches as she needs. She can wear the robes of older siblings or families. Unfortunately, we don’t sell used robes because you’ll never know if the child who wore it before has jinxed it or something. It is also illegal to buy it straight from another family.” 

Madam Malkin was conjuring large boxes to pack the robes in when Kim approached her to ask, “Will she need anything else? Like pajamas? Clothes for when she’s not in class…” Kim lowered her voice. “Underwear?” Madam Malkin looked back at Kim, asking such ridiculous questions, but figured they were muggles.

“At Hogwarts, unless the students are out and about, they usually just wear Muggle clothes. Even the pure-bred wizard children prefer Muggle clothing. I don’t know why; it all seems so tight and restrictive. I know when they go to the village, Hogsmeade, they are all in Muggle clothing. The older wizard and witches don’t like it, but they can’t do anything about it, really. So, she can buy whatever underwear she wants from whomever she wishes.” Kim gave a nod, saying, “Thank you.”

Madam Malkin handed the stack of packages to Duchess’s father. They all bid farewell and left the shop, finally heading for home.

Chapter 8: Platform 9 ¾ and The Hogwarts Express

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