❝ MERLIN'S GHOST! ❞
❝ I MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRONG. ❞
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Albany Bronwen was no Chosen One by any means, but being haunted by the ghosts of the greatest sorcerer of all time and a former king had to count for something, right?
❃ in which a lone...
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ALBANY WALKED THE WINDING PATH TO Hogsmeade with purpose in her stride. The village was always a little colder than the castle, being higher up in the mountains, and so she had her green and silver scarf hiked up over her ears. The odd fashion statement also helped her tune out Merlin and Arthur's incessant attempts to talk to her, as they refused to leave her alone.
She had quickly figured out that nobody else could see or hear the ghosts; they were a little unlike those who haunted the castle, such as the Bloody Baron and the Fat Friar. Merlin and Arthur held much more colour to themselves, and weren't as transparent. And were far more annoying.
"Albany. Albany. Albany," Arthur had taken to repeating, not unlike a broken record.
"She's not listening, don't bother," Merlin had tried to interrupt.
"At least I'm trying, unlike a certain someone."
"That certain someone is sick of listening to your voice. And so is she."
Albany continued to ignore the two of them. Truth be told, her head still spun if she properly acknowledged what was actually happening to her. The whole situation felt completely surreal; and though she knew they were itching to tell her more and more, she didn't know if she was ready to hear it. It was all a little overwhelming, and while she wouldn't wish for them to go away forever, she was realising that she might have undervalued the simplicity of her daily life. Now it felt as though she'd been plunged into cold, unfamiliar waters, and she couldn't swim back to the land she knew.
Not to mention that she really had been looking forward to putting her plans into action, and wasn't about to let this - however important they insisted it was - stop her.
The little village in the mountains was such a happy area, always bustling during the school year. A thin layer of snow had begun to dust the rooftops already; there was almost always snow when Albany visited. She walked down the main street with a small smile; each open doorway was warm and inviting, music and chatter reaching her covered ears. Students were everywhere, laughing with their friends, pressing their noses against the windows or gorging themselves on sweets. Honeydukes was probably the most crowded shop in the village at weekends, and for good reason.
Albany reached her destination quickly, slipping past groups of other students and a few older witches and wizards who permanently resided in the village. She stood before the bright red store front of Zonko's Joke Shop, and realised she'd never stepped foot in there in her life. The window was filled with all sorts of colourful products and moving displays, and as she pushed open the door a little bell rang above. The inside sounded like a cuckoo clock on drugs; everything seemed to have its own unique sound.
It wasn't quite as crowded as Honeydukes or the Three Broomsticks, but there were still numerous students making their way around the shop, laughing and waving products at each other. Most of them were younger students; plenty were third years, who were experiencing Hogsmeade for the first time.
