Getting the ball rolling
Date/Time: Lunchtime, August 10th, 1996
Characters: Pansy Parkinson and OPEN
Location: Knockturn Alley
Rating: ?
Warnings: ?
Pansy sighed heavily as she turned away from the bright exuberant crowds that cluttered Diagon Alley. The little side-street that led to Knockturn Alley was characteristically deserted, which relieved her in some respects. She wasn't really all that fond of crowds - certainly not whilst she was shopping. Children running all over the place like wild monkeys, getting under her feet, spilling drinks on her expensive shoes...not to mention that they seemed to let just about anybody in to Diagon Alley, these days. She was starting to feel quite convinced that someone had been handing wands out like candy, along with a set of written instructions on exactly which bricks to tap to get in to the wizarding street.
She turned in to Knockturn, pleased to see it as quiet and sombre as ever. Certainly no children running about here - nor any bemused looking muggles shepherding their mudblood offspring in to Flourish and Blotts for school supplies. Something about it still gave her a chill, however. She remembered her first trip here, with her Father. She'd been six or seven, and he'd been doing a book signing to promote his latest. He'd taken her along after much pleading on her part, only to get extremely frustrated with her, later, when she buried her head in his cloak, crying and begging to be taken home. The people had frightened her, with their mask-like faces and gravelly tones, their bony fingers prodding her, making lewd comments about 'when she grew up'. It was too dark for her, too cold, too rough.
The people still frightened her, sometimes. But she wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't afraid to hex the hags and drunks in to the middle of next week if they so much as tried to touch her, and they were well aware that 'no magic outside of school' wasn't going to stop her. Her father had connections.
In point of fact, it was those 'connections' that brought her here. Her father had put a reserve on a little item at Borgin and Burkes, and had asked her to pick it up for him. She'd thought it an odd request, really, since they could just as easily have sent it via owl post, but she hadn't argued. It was nice to get out of the house, at any rate, and she had some school shopping to do, later.
She approached the dingy little shop casually, glancing around to make sure she wasn't being followed. These were strange days, and her father had made sure to impress upon her how important it was to keep safe. As if she needed to be told.
Characters: Pansy Parkinson and OPEN
Location: Knockturn Alley
Rating: ?
Warnings: ?
Pansy sighed heavily as she turned away from the bright exuberant crowds that cluttered Diagon Alley. The little side-street that led to Knockturn Alley was characteristically deserted, which relieved her in some respects. She wasn't really all that fond of crowds - certainly not whilst she was shopping. Children running all over the place like wild monkeys, getting under her feet, spilling drinks on her expensive shoes...not to mention that they seemed to let just about anybody in to Diagon Alley, these days. She was starting to feel quite convinced that someone had been handing wands out like candy, along with a set of written instructions on exactly which bricks to tap to get in to the wizarding street.
She turned in to Knockturn, pleased to see it as quiet and sombre as ever. Certainly no children running about here - nor any bemused looking muggles shepherding their mudblood offspring in to Flourish and Blotts for school supplies. Something about it still gave her a chill, however. She remembered her first trip here, with her Father. She'd been six or seven, and he'd been doing a book signing to promote his latest. He'd taken her along after much pleading on her part, only to get extremely frustrated with her, later, when she buried her head in his cloak, crying and begging to be taken home. The people had frightened her, with their mask-like faces and gravelly tones, their bony fingers prodding her, making lewd comments about 'when she grew up'. It was too dark for her, too cold, too rough.
The people still frightened her, sometimes. But she wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't afraid to hex the hags and drunks in to the middle of next week if they so much as tried to touch her, and they were well aware that 'no magic outside of school' wasn't going to stop her. Her father had connections.
In point of fact, it was those 'connections' that brought her here. Her father had put a reserve on a little item at Borgin and Burkes, and had asked her to pick it up for him. She'd thought it an odd request, really, since they could just as easily have sent it via owl post, but she hadn't argued. It was nice to get out of the house, at any rate, and she had some school shopping to do, later.
She approached the dingy little shop casually, glancing around to make sure she wasn't being followed. These were strange days, and her father had made sure to impress upon her how important it was to keep safe. As if she needed to be told.