It was finally beginning to feel like Spring, and the chill that had kept Amelia bundled up in scarves and jackets and a host of other winter gear had finally receded. It was the perfect weather to stroll around Hogsmeade, which was fortunate because Amelia had cause to be shopping this weekend.
Raoul’s birthday was coming up, which put her parents on edge. They had done their best in the last few years to try to forget the fact that they had a son, though her mother did so much more convincingly. Her father was more sentimental, and Amelia had caught him a few times with a photo album, looking at pictures of Raoul flying around on a broom when he was only four or five, followed by pages of Raoul starring in the Gryffindor quidditch matches. The boy had been born to fly.
The impending holiday left Amelia with the feeling that she ought to be getting her older brother some sort of gift, though he had told her in his last letter that she oughtn’t get him anything at all. He didn’t have any room to carry it, he said, as he traveled from country to country, out enjoying his freedom. But Amelia wasn’t so easily dissuaded; there were very few people in her life she could consider herself close enough with to justify giving gifts, and besides, it was part of a social contract. Just because her parents refused to acknowledge Raoul’s impending birthdate didn’t mean Amelia would.
Decided on a gift, however, was more difficult. Raoul wasn’t just being stubborn when he said he didn’t have room to carry gifts; it was likely some version of the truth. He never stayed in any place for too long, Amelia knew, even though he never told her where exactly it was he was staying. She would have to get him something small enough to carry with him, and something good enough to be worth carrying around in the first place.
Strolling past the windows, Amelia passed easily by clothing shops and bookstores. Raoul had never been one for fashion, and he was even less invested in reading unless it was a sports magazine or the book that contained all the rules of quidditch, which seemed surprisingly long to Amelia for a game that involved people flying around on oversized twigs, alternately trying to hurt others or accidentally hurting themselves.
After a series of more stores that couldn’t possibly hold any potentially Raoul-worthy gifts, Amelia stepped in front of a store she had never really noticed before. It had a broom in the window, one with a shiny varnish and metal extensions that might have been meant for aerodynamics or for standing on, Amelia couldn’t be sure. Amelia hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, knowing this would be outside her comfort zone, but after a few seconds she forced herself inside. Obviously a broom would be too large for Raoul to carry – besides, he had taken his with him when he left – but perhaps there was something else worth having.
Inside, Amelia could smell varnish and leather, but it was the visual input that really shocked her. Who knew there were so many different pieces of equipment that went along with flying sports? There were gloves, goggles, brooms, kits for your brooms, extra attachments for brooms, saddle bags for your broom.
And here I was thinking a dustpan was a natural accompaniment to a broom… Amelia thought, her eyes wide as she looked from shelf to shelf.
Moving toward the closest display, Amelia picked up a pair of goggles and put them on. In the process of doing so, she touched a button on the side of the goggles, which immediately brought up an image that she supposed was meant to make the wearer see what one would see when they were flying. If this wasn’t enough to freak Amelia out, a moment later, a dark black spherical object was flying right toward her field of vision, and she immediately ripped the goggles off of her head, staggering slightly backward as if to avoid the projectile.
Note to self: look, but do not touch. Amelia thought as she quickly dropped the goggles back on the shelf.
by Amelia Lyons Wed Oct 07, 2009 8:29 pm
