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Hi, my name is Morgan
Byrd
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 | Hate That I Love You -8- (HP) |
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 5 with 1 vote(s)
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| Created: 2008-03-24 03:43:27 |
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The first part of the day in Hogsmede didn’t go as badly as had thought it would. After having an extremely quick breakfast (as I had woken up so very late =S) with Al, Rose and Darcy, we met Tom and some of his friends; Bradley Goldstein and Adrian Gage (both of whom were a bit boring and annoyingly stupid but I suppose they were okay!) in the Entrance Hall and made our way across and out the grounds down into Hogsmede, where firstly we all went into Honeydukes. After Darcy had eventually managed to drag Al away from the brand new Whizzing Whirls (white, milk and dark chocolate swirls that spin frantically around once in your mouth before exploding and releasing the succulent strawberry mousse inside. Pure heaven!) we – typically – were hauled into Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes; Even Rose can’t stand that shop, and George is her uncle! After saying hi to Mr. Weasley, we – that is me, Darcy and Rose – couldn’t stand it in there another second. We separated from Tom and his minions (he wasn’t even that bothered that I was leaving him; the cheeky so.d!) and made our way – once again dragging Al in our wake – out into the cobbled street.
“Right, who wants to get a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?” Al asked. “I’m seriously contemplating passing out otherwise!”
“I’m in,” Darcy said straight away; Rose and I both smirked at each other.
“Ummm…..Yeah, why not, it’s freezing out here!” Rose agreed, turning to look at me. “Mo?” But I was no longer listening. My eyes had just that instant landed on an extremely small, extremely ancient looking bookshop that never in my time at Hogwarts had I seen before. I couldn’t place a finger on it, but something about its look and the slightly open wooden door seemed to be drawing me in with a force that gave no sign of relenting.
“Morgan? Morgan. Morgan Byrd. Helloooo, an invalid in a little bit of a tender state here! Morgan! Morgan Byrd! MORGAN!!” A few passers by started and skirted round the edges of our group at Al’s frustrated cry, which quickly shook me from my reverie. I stared at him absent-mindedly.
“Say what?” Giving out a cry that greatly matched my dear mothers when Tyler had once set off his whole collection of WWW’s at the same time, Al cuffed me round the back of my head.
“That,” I said, rubbing the back of my head tenderly, “is woman beating! And that actually hurt!”
“So sue me!” Al snapped back. “I’ll most likely be out cold by then so, to be honest, it won’t really bother me!” Darcy and Rose burst out into giggles. “D’you want to get a Butterbeer or not?” I glanced behind me to the ancient little shop, still drawing me in.
“For Christ’s sake Morgan, are you coming or not?!” Al snapped. I only had to think for a second.
“I’ll meet you in there; there’s something I want to do first-”
“Fine, we’ll get you a Butterbeer!” Al cut in, grabbing Rose and Darcy by the arm as he made his way across the street to the warm and welcoming pub that contrasted greatly with the cold day that it was. Laughing quietly to myself, I turned my attention back towards the little bookshop. Taking a deep breath, I began walking towards the slightly ajar shop door.
It was like stepping into a Gringotts high security vault (except maybe a little less shiny!). Hundreds – no, thousands – of books of all shapes and sizes, thicknesses and colours stood on shelves that seemed to just rise up and up with no sign whatsoever of ending. The entire shop was almost completely deserted apart from a tall, thin, boney woman standing meekly at a counter also piled high with yet more fascinating books.
“A fan of reading, are you m’dear?” she asked suddenly in a soft, quavering voice as I realised that my face more than mirrored my thoughts; those of complete awe.
“What – no! I mean – uh – I.....is it that obvious?” I asked weakly. The old woman chuckled quietly.
“I’m quite the guesser, you know. You don’t like libraries, am I right?” I looked at her, half frowning, half smiling.
“You’re quite accurate in your guessing I must say!” I said in amusement. She smiled faintly.
“You’re quite like me; you love books but hate being all confined and imprisoned in those stuffy old places. Quite right too, I think!”
“I think you’ve got me sussed!” I laughed, still looking around, just as transfixed as before. The old woman paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face.
“If I’ve read you completely right, I think you’ll find the section over in there very much to your liking,” she said, nodding in the direction of a particularly cluttered and ancient looking corner of the little shop. I glanced back at her, uncertain.
“Take a look; you never know if the right thing’s just around the corner!” She persisted, smiling encouragingly at me. I returned the smile and walked slowly towards the corner.
This was by far the most mysterious part of the shop; books that were stacked so precariously on tables and looked as though they might topple and engulf me at any moment stood stock still and did not even wobble in the slightest as I brushed past them. Titles jumped out at me that I had never heard of before: ‘The Three Witches of Gustaf’, ‘War of the Wands’, ‘The Young Darkness’ being just a few. They too had that same force I had felt outside on the street, drawing me in, enticing, almost daring me to reach out for one of the many tired and worn volumes. I was just about to reach for the most faded hard-back from the middle of a significantly larger stack of books, when-
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Morgan.”
.:~to be continued~:. |
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