Supercilious [On Hold]

A Trip to Diagon Alley

Lucille along with her father and brother was walking to Knockturn Alley, that Alley was where all sorts of cool and dangerous stuff was sold.

They had came to buy school supplies, now those were to be bought from Diagon Alley, but their father had some business in the Knockturn Alley first.

They entered Burgin and Burkes, Lucille looked around, A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay on the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Wicked she thought.

Her father crossed the shop and rang a bell on the counter before turning to them and saying, "Touch nothing, kids."

Lucille walked about, peering at what looked like a nasty hat, and quickly looked away when she realized it was coated in blood.

 Draco who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said Father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, sulkily and Lucille rolled her eyes, she knew exactly what was coming.

 As she walked around, started mouthing the words as he said exactly the same words, maybe she was being dramatic but who cares, 'Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor--He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead...'

He paused for a moment to bend down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

Lucille noticed her father watching her, looking greatly amused and Lucille gave him a sheepish smile.

"...everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick—" and it continues. 

Lucille was not mouthing anymore, just trying to ignore the tirade, her father seemed to have had enough.

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," he said, fixing Draco with a quelling look. "And I would remind you that it is not—prudent—to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear—ah, Mr. Borgin."

The owner of the shop had showed up, and as the men talked, Lucille wandered to a black cabinet that was opened a crack.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted—and young Master and Miss Malfoy, too—charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced—"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Father.

"Selling?"

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Father, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few—ah—items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..."

Lucille peered in threw the crack and held back a loud squeak, because inside stood Harry Potter, his face smudged with ash and his glasses broken, and was wildly shaking his head at her.

Lucille slowly stepped away, and lots of questions jumped up, but she knew she would have to wait for answers.

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of specks to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act—no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it—"