As November crept along, she had an idle daydream of working on her poisonous cross stitch inside the Magizoology wing of the London Zoo. She imagined herself sitting in the warm room of the aquatic display where the fish darted around behind glass, all their brilliant shifting colours illuminating the otherwise dim space. She asked Ron if he’d like to come, but he hadn’t been interested. "What am I going to do there, beside you?" he’d asked. "Read a book? That’s more your thing, not mine."