"Briar Lupin had dreamt, predicted, foreseen death more times than she cared to admit. If she actually remembered all of the times it had occurred, at least."
Sequel to Blue.
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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JUNE MARVELL
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
SHE WORE A BROWN wig over her blonde curls, and various makeup cosmetics concealed the rest of her facial features that were most noticeable. But, she had a feeling that she was going too far with the disguise, because when Briar had asked Fred what made her face easy to recognise as hers, he had said everything. So, Briar was trying her best to look as different to her usual self as possible, just in case she guessed and got it wrong, and got someone hurt in the process.
Foundation covered freckles. Eyeshadow had been used to make her eyes look brighter. An assortment of dark-coloured clothes hung from her body, all of which being a style her own clothes definitely weren't. She walked down Knockturn Alley, her pocket concealing shrunken versions of one of the joke shop's products, a mixture between a Walkie-Talkie, and the Extendable Ears. Briar described them as one-way Walkie-Talkies, or like those muggles baby monitors. All she knew was that they were good for listening into conversations from a good distance away.
Briar walked into Borgin and Burkes, the man at the desk immediately walking over to her. "Do you know your way around here, Miss?" he asked, his accent cutting off any h's. "We have members, if you want to join—"
"Oh, no, I'm only visiting London for a week," said Briar, adopting the thickest American accent she could. She couldn't do any place in particular, just a generic American accent. "Thought I'd drop in, whilst my husband dealt with his work. Of course, I don't work. I'm just a rich housewife!"
The clerk continued, "Do you want any assistance—?"
"I'll be fine, thanks," Briar responded, panicking slightly as the American accent faded slightly back into her own voice. Be had been said somewhat more "British" than "American," and therefore fine, thanks had been said with such a thick American accent that it might've been a bit too harsh.
The clerk nodded, and Briar wandered off, trying to act as if she wasn't an eighteen year-old pretending to be far older. Maybe she should've tried to paint wrinkles onto her face. It could've worked. It might've, anyway.
Briar walked around, systematically sticking one of the monitors around the shop. She finished her rounds through the shop's makeshift aisles, and stopped her walking for a moment. Her eyes darted around momentarily. She needed to find something to buy, whatever had the less ties to dark magic. But, considering she was in Borgin and Burkes, which was on the street notorious for black magic, her best option seemed to be the small gold hourglass standing in-between a strange tea cup set, and gemstones marketed as actual bloodstones.
