"The man clad in the tennis uniform looked to be neither athlete nor prince, though he moved with grace. Tall, with his father's long red hair and angular features, he could almost have been a very flat-chested woman instead of a man, though if you looked carefully, you could tell the proportions were wrong. He stood on the court, a ball in one hand, racket in the other, about to launch a serve, smiling gently as he did so, a man who played for the pleasure of the game, rather than for the cheers of the crowd at victory. A strange wand leaned against one wall of the tennis court behind him, topped with something that vaguely resembled a duck head in a very stylized manner. A golden locket hung from his neck, the kind in which one keeps a picture; I wondered whose picture dwelt within."