Diagon Alley

Mortimer whisked her through the narrow lanes, she followed close behind, carefully drinking in the noise and light, staring back at the eyes she caught. Despite being half-hidden by his billowing cloak, she walked tall and proud, dressed in fine silk robes the color of clotted blood, her hair in black tendrils trailing down her back. Mortimer's eye was drawn to Borgin and Burkes, they'd already gotten her supplies, Mortimer had insisted she study the books from the first two years, though she suspected she'd already learned it, "There's something I want to get, I won't be long.", he narrowed his eyes but nodded curtly, turning his back sharply and striding into the store. Lyra sighed, painted on her most charming smile, and made her way to Olean's, checking her wand was tucked discreetly away.
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"Elder and phoenix feather, 12 inches, firm. I've been waiting for that wand to choose its master for quite some time. A rare combination, and very powerful, though I'm sure you'll be up to the task, my dear."
"Yes, I should think so. My thanks, Mr. Olean."
"Oh no it's my pleasure, Miss. It's not often I help someone find a second wand! I hope it serves you as well as your first."
Lyra bowed her head pleasantly, and swiftly walked to where Mortimer was sure to be growing impatient.
"Find what you were looking for?" Mortimer drawled, his keen eyes betrayed the boredom of his tone.
"I did indeed, Sir." She gave him a wide-eyed look conveying pure innocence, though he simply hummed, moving on when she said no more.
"Both your parents were placed in Slytherin, no other house has such a staunch reputation for creating wizards of both merit, and...talent. Perhaps you will find yourself among peers there." They were still walking briskly, he seemed eager to leave the crowd now that their business was concluded.
"One might wonder if I was not already among peers, Durmstrang has quite a reputation for its... selectivity. I hear Hogwarts is not quite so discerning." She glanced up at him swiftly.
"Durmstrang is indeed quite wise, not many schools still teach the Dark Arts, a squandered opportunity. As for discernment, only the one house can be called that."
"Was...my father in Slytherin?" She tried to not betray any emotion, keeping a level tone of casual interest.
Mortimer's eyes flashed and his head snapped to look at her directly, she kept her eyes straight ahead, but he saw her ears pink up ever so slightly.
"Your father, was a Gryffindor," he grimaced, "he was immature, reckless, arrogant... You would do well to not follow in his footsteps, Lyra, in more ways than one."
Lyra nodded, placating him somewhat. "My apologies for such sudden questioning, I agree one must rise above such base emotions, it is a sign of weakness."
There was a moment of silence, a curious tenseness in the air.
"I think I shall like to be Prefect." Lyra thought aloud, choosing to relax her shoulders. He did not reply, and they lapsed into silence as they neared the floo network. It was strange to be back, Lyra wondered how much had changed since she'd seen him last summer, there was something off about his silence, it carried secrets now.
Category:Scenes