Sporty Shopping Day PV Marshal Closed

♤♧ Say not that we age, but that our beauty develops with time ♧♤

@Lindsey Springhall

August ninth was a particularly anticipated day, enough so that Marshal might have been tempted to regress to his six year old self and inquire from the back seat, “Are we there yet?” However, he now prided himself on possessing the restraint to stave off from that course of action, which could certainly be seen as ironic, considering his marked lack of self-restraint in many scenarios. But he had learned at a young age that questioning the distance of a journey generally failed to shorten it, rather seeming to elongate said journey in a painfully frustrating manner. Not to mention, it was always a good idea to present an already discontented driver with as little distraction from the busy streets of London as possible.

Anybody would tell you that Marshal’s father was the kindest, most well-meaning man you would ever have the pleasure of meeting; that is, until they cut him off on the road.
Marshal had long ago decided that his father was inevitably possessed by some unseen demon every time that he sat behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle. There simply didn’t seem to be a more logical way to explain the dumbfounding metamorphosis that Aldous Mozor’s personality underwent in the short time it took him to open the car door and slide onto the driver’s seat. Perhaps the demonic conclusion made entirely no sense, but it was easier for the boy to accept than to believe that his father would actually say some of the things that had left his mouth over the years.
Of course he never turned the powerful road rage upon his wife or children, though that may have been largely due to the fact that his wife would likely throw him from the vehicle if he ever did so.

Another curse was tossed out the driver side window, earning Aldous a hardy smack on the arm from the passenger seat. Meanwhile, Marshal contented himself by rereading the letter from Lindsey and checking the time on his phone. Ten o’clock was approaching quickly.

Finally, with one last grunt of exasperation, his father parked the worn-out mini van in front of their destination - The Leaky Cauldron.
Eagerly undoing his seatbelt, Marshal quite literally jumped out of the car, leading the way into the strange building.

Once inside, they followed the directions that had been included with his invitation letter, showing the piece of paper to the bartender, who then designated another to lead the three of them through a side door. Once outside, their guide faced a towering stone wall, glanced around, then produced an object from his cloak that looked much like the wands Marshal had seen at summer camp, including the one belonging to Lindsey, whom he was scheduled to meet. Reaching out with the wand, the guide tapped the wall in some sort of pattern before taking a step back. After a moment, the wall shifted. Marshal and his parents stared, dumbstruck, as the stone bricks simply folded away until a large opening was revealed.
“That's marvelous! Where can I buy a wall like that?” his father exclaimed excitedly, any semblance of road rage having vanished, as was typical once he exited the car.
The guide offered no response, but his mother did. “Something tells me that’s not available at our local hardware store.”
“Just think, Serena. How cool would it be to have a front door like this?”
Now Marshal chimed in, “You have to admit it, Mum, we would have the most unique house in the neighborhood.”
His mother shook her head, still gazing at the opening in the wall with trepidation. “Don’t worry yourself about that. Between the two of you, I’m sure we’re already the most unique family in London.”

Their guide waited patiently as the unique family of three stepped through the opening like pardoned criminals who hadn’t seen the light of day for a decade, eyes wide as they flitted about their unexpected surroundings.
Marshal failed to notice the wall closing up behind them, much too engrossed in the new scenery to care.
Bounteous amounts of people wandered about the street, dressed quite unlike most that one would normally see in the city of London, but rather like… well, witches and wizards, naturally. The shops that lined the walkways were strange and fantastical, the sights and sounds were odd at best, and above all else, the very atmosphere was different somehow, as if you could feel the magic in the very air.

Scratching his chin, Marshal’s father said skeptically, “I’m still not convinced that this isn’t an elaborate convention of some sort. A nifty one, I’ll give it that, but magic? Maybe someone can make their dog disappear to convince me.”

No dogs disappeared, but they did set off in search of the quidditch store, being forced to weave through the crowd in some areas, much to Marshal’s discomfort.
At last, just before ten o’clock, they spotted a store entitled Quality Quidditch Supplies.
The first thing to catch his eye was the array of brooms set on display in the front window. One broom in particular drew his attention away from the others. He approached the glass almost reverently, wide eyes studying the beautiful craftsmanship. Written on the handle in gold was one word: Firebolt.

Mesmerized, he was unable to look away from the broom until a familiar female voice greeted him from the side. Wrenching his gaze away from the store window, he turned to see Lindsey standing nearby, the grin on his face betraying the joy he felt at seeing her.
“Lynn! I’ve been great, but I must say, I’m noticeably better now.” Turning around, he saw his parents examining a quidditch uniform and called out to them. Hearing his voice, they came closer, each with a smile equally as friendly as their son’s.
Facing Lindsey once more, Marshal made introductions. “Mum, Dad, this is my friend Lindsey. Lindsey, these are my parents.”
Ever graceful in conversation, his father spoke, the pride all too evident in his voice. “This is your friend? Well, I can see why you were so excited about this little shopping trip. Up top, pal.”
Marshal needn’t look to know that his father had proffered one hand in hopes of receiving a high-five. The blond-haired boy may well have taken him up on the offer, but his mother cut off any celebratory action by grabbing her husband’s hand and beginning to drag him away.
“It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Lindsey. We’ll meet the two of you right back here later. Don’t have too much fun!”
And with that, Marshal was left alone with Lindsey and a slight sense of embarrassment.

“So, you’re the expert here,” he said, scratching his neck sheepishly. “Where should we start?"

Interacting with @Marshal Mozor

Her face was lit up when she saw her friend. And his parents. The Mozor family seemed an united one, and the members got along with each other very well — like her own.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr and Mrs Mozor!” she grinned. “See you later, then!” she waved. Diagon Alley was her kingdom. Now the queen here would take a foreigner on a trip around the country. Setting her foot on the pebble street, she felt that she was back home — back at the cozy place that she grew up.

“I suggest starting from the Ollivanders.” she answered. “It’s the wand shop — you couldn’t survive without a wand in Hogwarts. I’m quite certain on that.” wands were one of the most popular things among wizard born kids. They were eager to get a wand pretty much from the time they learnt they were magical — just imagine, hold a stick, and cast your own spells! She was among those children when she was young. Actually, Lindsey did not know which wizard kid wasn’t eager to get their own wand.

“The wand,” while leading the way, she mimicked the tone of Mr Ollivanders, “chooses the wizard. You would be greeted by a man — that’s Mr Ollivanders — and he would pick wands for you to try after measuring your height, length of your arms, etc. The process is really fun and exciting, believe me! You’d try tons of wands — no, I mean a couple. I’ve tried…like three, I guess?” slightly she chuckled. If it was possible, she would love to repeat the process again.

Summer of London was adorable. She had learnt some geography at the muggle primary school, well, of course it was in the subject of science, which she was so amazed at. The old science textbook told her that London had agreeable summers — if you ignore the rains. She was a native London resident, and she’s quite used to the fact of raining. Nay, if she could, she’d probably live in London for her whole life — it would be just fascinating.

“Almost there!” soon she announced. The Diagon Alley wasn’t a really large place, so they reached the small shop soon. A small grin appeared on Lindsey’s fair face — ah, how exited she was at here last year! “Arrived!”

She led the way, and pushed the large wooden door open. Her own beech wood wand was in her pocket, waiting to meet its maker. Upon their arrival, an old man slowly appeared behind the desk.

“Ah, nice to see you. Hogwarts student for a wand, huh?” the man started. The shop was quite dark, and Lindsey made an effort to manage to see things clearly. “Miss Springhall. A pleasure to meet you again.”

It was quite a surprise that the man still remembered her name. Though, he’s supposed to know everything, right? Everything?

Before she could even gave a proper greet to the man, he started again. “Beech wood and phoenix feather core, 34.2cm, bendy, isn’t it? A quite powerful wand.” ahhhh…he’s talking about her wand. Her precious little eleven year old birthday gift.

“Excellent memory, Mr Ollivanders!” she exclaimed. “I’m here today for a friend of mine who would start his Hogwarts years this September.” She pointed to Marshal. She wasn’t really sure if he’d amazed, nervous, or exited. So the badger gave the boy a small encouraging smile, and retired to the back, leaving the place in front of the desk for Marshal and Mr Ollivanders.

It would be fun, really. She thought, watching the whole scene and listening to their conversation attentively.

Reducio

Note: Mr Ollivanders is an NPC, so you could make up his conversation with Marshal according to your own thoughts!

♤♧ Say not that we age, but that our beauty develops with time ♧♤

@Lindsey Springhall

Despite his father’s shameless antics, which would have made most girls decidedly uncomfortable, Lindsey seemed unfazed, sending a cheery wave at his parents, her warm smile standing in defiance against all awkwardness. Marshal knew he liked her for a reason; well, there were actually multiple reasons, including - but not limited to - her flowing waves of golden brown hair. But here was yet another reason! The ability to look past his father’s straightforwardness was a special one indeed.
His already high opinion of this girl from summer camp only continued to grow.

Lindsey quickly made a suggestion as to where they should begin their little shopping spree, and Marshal nodded enthusiastically in response.
”Yes, please,” he said. ”I can’t wait to get a wand and make things happen that don’t make any sense. I mean, I don’t make sense a lot, but this will take being weird to a whole new level.”
Needless to say, he was eager to be more odd than ever, which was certainly no small feat.

He grinned when Lindsey adopted the voice of what seemed to be an elderly individual, though he had no real idea of who she might be imitating. Perhaps it was this Ollivander fellow. That seemed like as good a guess as any.
He couldn’t quite grasp the idea that an inanimate object would somehow choose him, rather than the other way around, nor did he understand how the shopkeeper would make his decisions based on measurements. Oh well; if it was as exciting as Lindsey was making it sound, then it didn’t need to make any sense. Frankly, he was beginning to care about logic less and less anyway.
Before long, they came upon a new shop, rather unique in appearance. Marshal hadn’t spotted it before now. He followed Lindsey through the door, curious eyes exploring the interior of the building as he entered. Quite honestly, the sight that greeted him was a bit underwhelming. There was a distinct lack of things like… furniture. One lonely wooden chair stood in a corner, accompanied only by shelves - floor to ceiling, containing nothing but piles and piles of suspicious boxes. This theme continued throughout the entire building, with boxes covering every inch of the narrow walls. Well, as far as he could see in the dim light, anyhow.
The only other piece of furniture in sight was a desk, from behind which a rather old fellow emerged. Marshal eyed the man with fascination. While he may not look like much, he made magical wands for a living, for goodness’ sake; who knew how powerful he was?
The man spoke, confirming Marshal’s suspicions that he had been he subject of Lindsey’s mimicking a few minutes before. In fact, her impression seemed to be spot on. He was impressed.
Evidently, Mr. Ollivander found ‘Miss Springhall’ every bit as memorable as Marshal did. He mused about her wand, the meaning of his words flying straight over Marshal’s head like they had somewhere entirely better to be.

Lindsey made an introduction on Marshal’s behalf, and he produced a lackluster wave.
”Hi there,” he said, a bit of uncertainty blending with the excitement in his voice. “I’m Marshal Mozor. Pleasure to meet you. I guess you’re really good at making cool sticks?” He noticed Lindsey stepping aside, which cemented his certainty that something was about to go down.
Regarding him with a quizzical gaze, Mister Ollivander replied, his words slow and deliberate, ”Mister Mozor… Off to Hogwarts, are we?”
Seeing an opportunity for the joke that nobody wanted to hear, Marshal shrugged. ”We? Well, we only just met, but I’ll tell you what; if you give me an extra pointy wand, then I’ll let you sit next to me on the train.”
Ollivander didn’t laugh. He didn’t giggle, snicker or smirk, but merely scrunched his brow. ”Yes, well, let’s begin with finding a wand for you, eh… pointy or otherwise, shall we?” With that, the shopkeeper moved to grab some things from behind the desk, leaving Marshal feeling as though his joke had obtained less appreciation than it undoubtedly deserved.

Returning with a few measuring tools, Mister Ollivander proceeded to take multiple measurements of his new customer. Seeing as Lindsey had mentioned this procedure earlier, Marshal wasn’t surprised. He waited a bit impatiently, tapping one foot in an effort to relieve some anticipation while Ollivander worked.
Finally satisfied, the gray-haired man wandered farther toward the back of the store, mumbling to himself as he rummaged through various boxes. After a few minutes, he selected a package, turning thoughtful eyes back to where Marshal stood, in the front of the building.
Hastening to his customer, he presented the selected box, removing the top to reveal a wand, nestled safely in a cushion on the inside. Once more, he spouted different facts about the object that meant next to nothing in Marshal’s mind.

Eyes wide, the boy gently took hold of the wand and lifted it closer to his face for inspection.
”Go on, then,” Ollivander urged. ”Give it a wave.”
Marshal glanced at the wand, then Ollivander’s face, then the wand again, before complying with the old man’s request. Raising it into the air, he gave it an enthusiastic wave. Without any delay, a loud explosion was heard, and numerous boxes were blown from the shelf that the wand had been pointed at. Marshal stood frozen, dumbstruck as he gazed at the previously crammed bookshelf, which now had plenty of empty space to spare.
”Oh my,” he vaguely heard Ollivander say. ”Let’s not do that one.” He pried the wand from Marshal’s grip, as the boy continued to stare at the affected shelf. Moving to search among the boxes once more, he selected a new one, then returned and offered it instead. ”Try this one.”
Turning his attention back to the man, Marshal grasped the new wand and gave it a wave as well, prepared for something exciting to happen. But nothing did. All was quiet. Growing impatient again, he waved it a second time, with no added success.
”Well, let’s try another one then.” Ollivander snatched the wand and disappeared into the dark depths of the shop.

Minutes later, he reemerged with yet another open box. ”30,4 cm, cherry wood with a dragon heartstring core.”
Yet again, Marshal grasped the proffered wand, lifted it to the air and waved it vaguely in the air. This time, however, he felt something different, almost like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, and a missing piece of his being restored. A white light glowed at the tip of the wand.
”Ah, yes. Very good. That will be the one,” said Mister Ollivander confidently.
With a goofy grin spreading across his face, Marshal glanced over at Lindsey, pointing at the glowing wand with his free hand. ”Do you see this? It’s like I’m a wizard or something!” He flicked the wand and shouted, ”Hocus Pocus!” At that, the light died instantaneously, leaving no trace of its existence. Apparently the wand wasn’t a fan of his spell.

Interacting with @Marshal Mozor

Chocolate brown eyes sparkled while she watched her friend choosing a wand. Oops, no, a wand choosing her friend. Mr Ollivanders would certainly correct her if she said that out loud to him. Marshal had been trying several wands — but either they had no effects when he waved, or they caused something damaged. She hoped that some wand could actually choose him — oh please, let a wand choose him.

She was overjoyed when a cherry wood wand beamed out light in Marshal’ hand. “Ah, yes. Very good. That will be the one.” she heard the old wandmaker said with delight. That will be the one…the words sounded familiar. She perceived that the old man had said it to her a year ago…well, maybe that’s the words that Mr Ollivanders always said…but never mind, every time it was said, it was to a brand new person who was looking forward to a brand new life.

“That won’t…gonna work.” she said doubtfully when her friend tried to cast a “spell” with his wand. “There’s, um, specific wand movements and incantation. You’d learn it very soon though, I promise.” she gave him an reassuring smile. And then she stood up. “Thank you, Mr Ollivanders. I guess I would see you around then.” See you around. Yeah. It seemed pretty normal for a girl grown up in the wizard world, right? The princess of the Diagon Alley should always be in her kingdom.

Lightly jumping out of the little dark shop and landed on the cobble street, Lindsey stretched her arms. “Cherry wood, I heard?” she asked, smiling. “With dragon heartstring? Gosh, that would be an extremely powerful wand — nice match!” she had heard that this match was great. Well, to be honest, she herself had been expecting this match before — of course, that was when she was a wandless witch and after she read tons of books about wands.

“Wands are…um, nice. I’m really interested in them. I’ve done tons of researches for them before…in Hogwarts, I mean. We have a grand library!” the library was somehow the girl’s favorite. She had always enjoyed sinking into an old armchair and read a couple of books under those ancient lights. The library was always peaceful. It seemed that she could forget everything. Everything about her own life. She was not a Springhall anymore. She was the queen of the fantasy world.

Feet tapped the cobble stones slightly. With a wide grin, she looked back to Marshal. “Where to go next? The Flourish and Blotts — pardon, I mean the bookshop — or the Madame Malkins? That’s the cloth store — shops in Diagon Alley tend to have a rather weird name. Any ideas?”

Graphic by Leonard Oaksworth

[font=Times New Roman]@Lindsey Springhall

Lindsey furthered the cause against his uneducated attempt at casting a spell, explaining that there were more details to using magic than he had previously anticipated. The news didn't exactly please him. He was notorious for being excitable and impatient. The less he had to learn to do something, the better, and from what Lindsey said, it sounded as though 'less' was not an option. Unfortunate.
Memories of the so-called wise words buzzed in his mind. 'Nothing worth having is achieved easily.' Or something along those lines.
While he knew those words to be true, and believed them - deep down - he simply could not help his natural affinity for things that came more easily. Though he supposed most people were that way. Easy was.. well, easy.
But no matter. He had succeeded in many difficult endeavors throughout his life; it seemed magical prowess would have to be added to that list.

His companion thanked Mister Ollivander and led the way outside. Following closely, the boy turned and waved his newly obtained wand in farewell.
"Thanks for giving me a cool stick and letting me blow up your stuff!" He called through the closing door before his view of the old man was cut off, leaving him alone with Lindsey once more - well, as alone as two people could be on a busy street, anyhow. "He seemed nice," he added to the girl.
She replied by gushing about the type of wand that he had received.
"Powerful, eh?" He muttered proudly, twisting the wand this way and that between his fingers as he examined it. This news pleased him greatly. If he had to go through great lengths to learn how to cast spells, he might as well have a powerful wand to do it with. And besides, it only made sense. After all, as far as he was concerned, he was certain to become one of the most powerful wizards ever to have existed. It was only a matter of time.
And if that wasn't his fate, then perhaps he could at least obtain the ability to play magical pranks, like the one had witnessed Opeila perform, back at Summer Camp. To be honest, that goal was far more important to him than becoming truly powerful.

Lindsey proceeded to speak on her fascination with wands. Apparently, she had studied them extensively, having made use of the wonderful library at the school.
Marshal always tended to drift away from any conversation that trailed too closely to books and research. He prevented his mind from wandering only because it was something Lindsey was obviously quite interested in, which automatically meant that he was interested as well. He simply would not ignore her, nor grow bored of her, no matter how far their conversation strayed from subjects that inherently intrigued him.
Giving her a crooked smile, he responded, "You clearly know a lot more than I do. Dragon heartstring? Does that mean they had to kill a dragon to get the material? How would you even do that?" He legitimately wanted to know. The thought of killing a dragon both saddened and invigorated him. He could scarcely imagine the kind of thrill that such a hunt would provide, or how unconquerably powerful one would feel upon succeeding in the feat. But then, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to kill a creature so magnificent, even if he did have the chance. In fact, he knew he couldn't do it.
To see and be near a dragon in person would be excitement enough for him.

Shortly thereafter, the question was cast concerning which shop he wished to visit next. Sadly, the two options included an oddly named clothing shop and an even more strangely titled book store. As a general rule, Marshal gave stores of either variety their well-earned personal space, avoiding them like a disease. For that, he blamed his mother, who held a particular fondness for books and clothing alike, and had dragged him on one too many long trips to such shops, where he was left to rack his brain for any reason that someone would purposefully keep themselves there for any extended amount of time. He never had come up with anything.
But this was Lindsey he was with, and he would follow her anywhere. So, like any real man should, he hid his displeasure as he answered, "Let's go to the clothing store first. Maybe if I get a new outfit, I can at least try to look like someone an angel like you should be hanging around." Eyeing the girl thoughtfully, he added, "I'm going to call you Lynn. Is that all right with you?"

interacts @Marshal Mozor

aug 9th, 2020

You ask what Lindsey’s thinking about when her feet touched the pebble street of Diagon Alley again? Well, she would tell you that she was thinking about nothing. But no. It was simply a lie, for tons of things had went through her fair head within seconds and minutes. She had had childhood. The best thing of growing up in a non magical neighborhood would be, that you would become highly interested in learning the world you should belong in. Indeed Lynn had tried hard to conceal her wizard identity along with her other family members from their neighbors and had succeeded, but she knew that her heart was for the wizarding world. She didn’t hate muggles, and actually loved them and their world, but she couldn’t fit in. Sometimes she couldn’t understand them like how well she could when the one in front of her was a wizard.

For example, the blonde muggle born boy besides her.

Marshal’s reaction to a dragon heartstring cored wand actually surprised the chocolate brown eyes a little bit. She was told that they were one of the strongest cores, and grew up knowing that possessing a cherry wood wand with dragon heartstring core was something that many wizards desired, especially a Japanese one. Lindsey had to admit, that she herself was wishing for such a wand timidly years ago, and spent time reading through numerous books to decide which wand core would be best for her - and she had decided on dragon heartstring. Within her knowledge young wizards would get extremely excited to have such a strong wand, and she was glad to see Marshal’s first reaction - plain delight. Delight in being able to cast spells on yourself from now on. She had expected this satisfaction to last longer, but simply - no. He became worried. Worried about the dragon that the heartstring was taken from.

A small fainting smile slowly climbed onto the girl’s lips. It was very hard to notice, for it faded away almost immediately. The blond boy walking besides her was the very first person to ask if getting a dragon heartstring had to kill a dragon. Oh well. Wonder what Mr Ollivander would say. She herself had never thought of it, seeing it as a very usual thing that happened everyday in the wizarding world. But Marshal had brought it up, rather unexpectedly. She was used to it, but he brought a change to her. Her right hand lifted up to her head, and thoughtfully threw some blondish brown curls which kept itching her face to the back. Should she speak the truth? Or not? Naturally it’s suspected that the heartstring’s taken after the dragon had died, though unknown if they died naturally or were killed. This was…truly a problem.

“Um, well…” she started, and then stopped rather uncertainly. “I do think so…but,” in a soft voice she continued. “Probably…probably they died naturally…? You know, like of old age…”

It was…weird to say, but this was the very first time that Lynn felt that she was not qualified for a Hufflepuff. Growing up as a rather compassionate person in her own opinion, it was…intriguing, for she had never considered such things. Maybe it was because she wasn’t that into animals. Lindsey did not realize that kindness was meant for both people and other creatures, whether magical or non-magical before, but now she did. She had decided to put a little more effort into spreading love to the animals now, besides only being kind to strangers.

Smiling a bit apologetically to her friend, she added. “But I’ll, surely, do some researches afterwards. Maybe we could even do some reading about this in the Hogwarts library together sometime, when we are both free!”

Quest number one done. Now onto number two: Marshal Aldous Mozor would be sorted into Hufflepuff for sure.

Seriously, why wouldn’t he? She analyzed her new friend logically in her head: definitely outgoing, undoubtedly fun, fiercely loyal, seemed quite hardworking, and finally, as she had just learnt, extremely kind and compassionate. Helga Hufflepuff would be proud. Lindsey couldn’t think if there’s any other houses more suitable for this boy - if there’s one, then it might be Gryffindor. But just might. It couldn’t be. She had already started to make up scenes in her mind about introducing Marshal to the badger basement. They would sink into the soft armchairs and have a cup of good hot tea together -

“Clothing store, of course.” she repeated with a smile. She knew that the boy must want to dress himself like a real wizard - and he would. Her lips curved into a curl while thinking about Marshal dressing in a black robe with his name tag - and possibly, even better, with a pointed hat. She was almost sure that light blond hair would look good under the black - well, they’d see. “Then that way. We’d probably head to the bookstore instead from this way.” she made a gesture.

She chuckled slightly when Marshal suggested he’d call her Lynn. Seriously, if he did that, he’d be the very second person to do it besides her intimate family - that would be, apart from Lizzie Callaghan. “Definitely, it’s totally alright! Seeing that I’ve already started to call you Marsh -” she stopped suddenly, and grinned at him. “Anyways anyways, we are here!”

Stepping up and managing to open the heavy door, she made a gesture, leading him in. “Still, it’s your time to shine!”

Reducio

Again, a nice NPC pops in! Not very sure if the real Madam Malkin is still owning the shop, but possibly we could say it’s just a friendly shop assistant

────── ❈ ──────

Graphic by Leonard Oaksworth

[font=Times New Roman]@Lindsey Springhall

Marshal didn't miss the initial expression of shock, then newly found concern, on Lindsey's face. For a few moments, she seemed to ponder on the matter of his question concerning dragon heart strings.
He would come to learn that she didn't actually know the answer, which surprised him. While she was rather hopeless when it came to muggle technology, he had convinced himself that she knew basically everything there was to know about the magical world. It had certainly seemed that way up to this point, from their interactions at summer camp until now. But, evidently, there were things even she didn't know.
She appeared convinced the great creatures passed from this life to the next due to natural causes, however, and he supposed that would have to suffice for now.

"We definitely should!" he replied to her idea of studying the subject together. Like usual, the very thought of willfully entering a library made him slightly ill, but he was willing to go just about anywhere if it meant spending time with this girl. So even if it meant following her to such a drastically unsavory place, he would put his concerns aside and take the bullet, as it were.

Speaking of unsavory places, her next words revealed to him that they had reached the clothing store.
The boy nearly recoiled physically when he turned to see the unholy shop standing straight in front of him, poised and ready to pounce on him with its bland, time-sucking powers. Glancing at Lindsey, he found himself sincerely hoping that she was nothing like his mother when inside one of these places. Placing one hand subtly behind his back, he crossed two fingers in some vain attempt to ward off any obsession with clothing that the girl might have.

In response to the crossing of his fingers, she mentioned the book store again, which didn't bode well for him at all.
In good news, however, she agreed to let him call her by a nickname.
He smiled at that. In his opinion, nicknames seemed more personal, like something that only good friends - or people even closer than friends - used. And that opinion led him to even greater joy when she stated that she had already started calling him by his own nickname.
He squinted slightly, attempting to recall a time he had heard her use the name. Nothing came to mind, but that certainly didn't mean it hadn't happened. His mind fell short of being photographic, or... sketchographic… for that matter.

His thoughts on the matter distracted him, causing him to miss when Lindsey moved to open the shop door for him. When he reaized what she was doing, he flinched forward, wanting to be the gentleman his parents had always taught him to be and open the door for her, rather than the other way around. But he was too slow. She grasped the handle and swung the door aside, revealing a portal to another world - a terrible and boring world.
He could practically hear his father scolding him for failing to show his inner chivalry for his female compatriot. He glanced about the street, ascertaining that his parents were not actually there.
Satisfied they hadn't witnessed his lapse in manners, he nodded gratefully toward Lindsey and strode through the doorway, braced for the impact of pain and suffering that generally accompanied his trips to such a place.

Much to his delight, the interior looked nothing like the clothing stores he was accustomed to. From the clothing to the very layout, nothing was the same. He spied long, flowing robes, among many other odd articles of clothing.
Naturally, the particularly pointy hats caught his attention as soon as he laid eyes on them, guiding his feet numbly in that direction, towards the back of the store.
"Welcome to Madame Malkines!" called a voice from somewhere that didn't involve pointed hats, which was the leading cause in the fact that Marshal didn't even hear the greeting.
He reached the cranium adornments, only to continue his gazing ways, hazel eyes roving over the different styles that presented themselves.
"Now, this is what a wizard should wear," he exclaimed excitedly to Lindsey, whom he presumed was still behind him. If not, he wasn't opposed to speaking to himself anyhow.
"Then that's exactly what you'll be getting!" came a voice that certainly did not belong to his friend.
Hearing the words this time around, he turned to face the newcomer, and found himself staring at a short, thin woman with a nose nearly as pointed as the hats in question. Her eyes were of a discerning emerald, with a seemingly genuine sense of kindness behind them. The kind of eyes that could convince a person that everything in their store was just what they needed. The exact kind of eyes that always seemed to be present when his mother took him shopping. It was no wonder she bought so many things.
"I presume you're here to check items off your list for Hogwarts?" the woman added, studying his form with those eyes. "You have that look about you. And besides, people your age don't usually come around here otherwise."
"Um..." Marshal started intelligently. Glancing back at the hats, then to the woman once more, he shook his head and continued, "That's right. I do have a list." He patted his hands along his person like an elderly gentleman who had misplaced his car keys. Finally, he remembered where his pockets were and searched them for said list, which his mother had been sure to give him before they left the car.
"I've got it... I had it..." His confidence quickly waned as one pocket, then another proved unfruitful. Had he lost it already? How could he have possibly lost it when he didn't even remember taking it out?
After searching every pocket he had, he checked all of them again, this time for holes; surely it was the fault of his pants - not him - that his very important list was missing.
To his surprise, there were no holes. And there was also no list. While he was crafting a new list of things he didn't have, he supposed any sort of functional brain should be mentioned as well.

"Yes, I know I had a list!" He planted a fist into the palm of his other hand, releasing his frustration in the physical movement and speaking as though he couldn't be happier about the situation. "And I also know that a pointy hat was on that list." He now pointed to the rack of hats, not knowing that the item was on his lost list.
The woman smiled sympathetically. "Oh, don't you worry yourself. I'm sure this young lady could write you a new list with everything you need." She gestured to one side.
Following the movement of her hand, Marshal saw Lindsey standing nearby.
"I can tell just by looking at her that she's been to Hogwarts before. And if nothing else, I could write you the list myself." She winked in a friendly manor, causing the young boy to scratch his head, a slightly uncomfortable grin on his face. "I know that one of these hats is most certainly on that list. Let's just get some measurements for that noggin of yours." With that, she turned on her heel and walked behind a nearby counter, her tall shoes clicking on the floorboards.

While he waited for her return, Marshal placed a sheepish look onto Lindsey. "I don't understand how I could have lost that. I don't remember doing anything with it."
In fact, he couldn't remember ever placing the piece of paper into his pocket after receiving it from his mother. Now that he thought about it, there was a very real possibility that he had left it on the back seat of his family's car. How lovely.
"Mum's going to give me an earful if she finds out I lost it. She says I'm just like my dad." He continued scratching the back of his head. It was a natural habit that made itself known when he was uncomfortable or embarrassed. "Can you write a new list for me? Do you know everything that was on it?"
Of course this whole thing could have been easily avoided, had he been gifted with an attention span surpassing that of a hummingbird.

interacts @Marshal Mozor

aug 9th, 2020

“Of course, like a true wizard.” she replied with an air of indubitability, eyes sparkling. Her attention was soon drawn by the smiley shop assistant, who jumped out of nowhere. The air here was much more better than that small dark shop of Mr Ollivanders, and Lindsey let out a relived breath - darkness was not that in her favor.

Her chocolate brown eyes flickered a little, eyeing the shop quietly. It hadn’t changed much since she last visited here, and the shop assistants were just as friendly as they used to be since she was a little girl. Probably, except the fact that she was much taller now, nothing had changed. She still remembered those smiley elderly witches who would often give a polite nod to her mother and would pat her head affectionately when she walked through the alley years ago, hand in her mother Carolyn’s. And she still remembered Edmund’s energetic housemates who would meet him up at the Quidditch supplies shop back in the days when she was still young for Hogwarts, when they would all burst out laughters at once, talking about stuffs about “that brilliant school”.

Oh, those golden ages! They were all “the good old days” like what the muggles sang in their songs, and she missed them dearly. Eyes flickering from the counter to the ceiling, and then falling on the blond boy who was busy exchanging words with the witch, her lips curled into a small smile. Maybe years after she would remember today dearly like she remembered those things, and she would visit here with Marshal again - again, together, and they would talk about what had happened this day. By that time Marshal would grow into a true wizard, and maybe it would be him who was leading the way - and they would meet up, share a drink, and laugh at how they survived those difficult Hogwarts years. Today would be memorable. Let everything about her weird aunt Dorothy fade away with the clean air. Let every thoughts on the her uncle’s disappearance vanish with the shop assistant’s friendly words. She had to grip every single little detail of today tightly, and note them down in her heart with sincere fondness.

Rather lost in her thoughts, she didn’t pay much attention in Marshal and the witch’s conversation. They seemed talking something about a certain list - possibly the school supply list coming together with the acceptance letter. Maybe Marshal was showing the assistant his list, ordering some certain kinds of robes listed on it - a pointy hat, yes, yes, she had heard Marshal mentioning it. “- I'm sure this young lady could write you a new list with everything you need.” glancing around with all alarm, it was thrilled to find that she herself was the only young lady around - and the words were certainly directed to her. “I can tell just by looking at her that she's been to Hogwarts before. And if nothing else, I could write you the list myself.” continued the witch, and Lindsey stared at her back with blank incomprehension.

She caught Marshal’s rather sheepish look. Finally feeling a bit nervous on being unable to tell what’s going on, she mumbled hastily. “Yeah…Hog…I will…second ye…yeah…” being flustered, her fingers reached the hem of her clothes and played with the small piece of clothing - a usual move when she was feeling uneasy. “I don't understand how I could have lost that.” she heard the blond remarking. Her sensitive ears caught the words. Lost. Lost the…the list. It must be. A flash of satisfaction sparkled in her eyes, but almost immediately it was replaced by a worrying air.

“You sure it’s gone?” she questioned with hope, while stepping a few steps forward to meet the blond eleven year old up. “Maybe it’s somewhere here…on the floor, maybe.” Lynn suggested, while scanning through the shop. No, it wasn’t there. At least she didn’t spot it. Disappointed, she looked back at Marshal. “Ah…probably it’s out there on the street…” she muttered, while starting to scratch the hem of her clothes again. Marshal asked if she could write a new list. Probably. Although Lindsey wasn’t the best at remembering things (she kept forgetting some important dates and years in the History of Magic textbooks and some of the planets’ names in Astronomy exams), it wasn’t completely without hope. Growing up as the youngest kid in a wizard family meant that she had scanned over all her brother and cousins’ acceptance letter before she had received her own. Though it was still difficult. Apart from the clothing part, which was certainly easier, Lindsey doubted if she could remember the whole list.

“Well…I may try.” she answered, trying to make her tone as merry and confident as possible. “This is like an extra-exam during the summer vacation, Professor Mozor.” she said in a teasing tone. “Let’s see if I can score an O.” chuckling a little bit as if she was in full confidence (oh, Merlin knows how nervous she was!), she threw some curls to her back, and looked at Marshal with all sincere. “Um, hello, madam? Could you please lend a quill and a scroll of parchment? And guess I have to temporarily use your counter a bit.” those kind emerald eyes looked up, and met her chocolate brown ones. Receiving the witch’s permission (“Go ahead, young lady.”), she jumped towards the counter and picking up a quill right under the witch’s pointy nose. Leaning towards the counter, the quill started to move on the yellow colored parchment.

“Like what you have just said, I do believe there’s a pointy hat.” she remarked, while putting the words “pointy hat” down. Eyes flickering a bit, she added the word “black” on. “Oh, and it should be black - though those blue ones do look fancy.” taking a small breath, she carried on, right hand moving as fast as possible. “Pretty sure you need a robe. Black, if I hadn’t mistaken, and,” - squill stopped - “and, possibly, two?” almost as soon as taking down “two”, she crossed it. “No, no, maybe three. I think my mother got me three - nope, two - ah, three. With name tags.” after crossing the words over and over, she finally decided on “three”. “It’s three, right, madam?” she turned to the witch for help, and the latter nodded kindly. “Well…and then…Professor Mozor, your test is rather difficult.” she made a gesture to the boy, while starting to scan the shop, hoping to find inspirations. “Dancing dress…possibly…ah, nope. Walking stick? Definitely not, though maybe Headmaster Lear needs one. It suits him perfectly.” she mumbled, though still loud enough for the other two to hear. “Shoes…possibly shoes…nope…ah, gloves!” almost exclaiming, she took “gloves” down. Adding “protective”, she grinned. Not very bad. She couldn’t remember if there’s anything left, so possibly that’s all.

“I think I’ve finished, professor.” she grinned at her friend, while offering him the parchment to scan. “Do you think there’s anything left? Anything you could remember?”

[font=times new romans]-pointy hat (black)
-danci
-shoes
-black robe, two three two three
-gloves, protective gloves, a pair
-extra, name tags on the clothes[/font]

“I could add those books and other supplies later, if you wish.” she said hopefully. “Of course - if I’m able to remember all those things.” giving a small excited laugh, she jumped up and faced Marshal, looking him right into the eyes. “Well…do you think this deserves an O?”

Reducio

omg I was so convinced that I have replied but now it’s over a month almost two T.T I am incredibly sorry for this, and I promise I wouldn’t do this sudden disappearance again
Also, attaching the supply list copied from my registration owl in the reducio below so that it would be easier for us to RP for the ease, Lynn missed a winter cloak in her list XD

Reducio

-Supplies:
-A wand;
-A remembrall
*note by Lin: not very sure if this is needed IC…maybe we could just ignore this one.
-A cauldron (standard tin model, size 2);
-A box of glass or crystal phials;
-Copper scales.

-Clothes:
-Three (black) plain work robes, standard model;
-A pointed hat (black);
-A pair of protective gloves;
-A winter cloak (black with silver fastenings).
-All clothes should carry pupil’s name tags.

-Books:
-Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger;
-Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk;
-Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling;
-The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble;
-Hogwarts, A History by Garius Tomkink;
-A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot;
-Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.

-Extra note:
-Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomstick.

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