That man nearest had an awfully familiar-sounding voice. And a familiar way of moving, and familiar... hair? As he ran, Corrie's eyes drifted up, following the string to the kite itself. An eagle. Suddenly she felt warmer than even the lion suit could account for, and a little queasy to boot.
It couldn't be. Sure, he'd been a Ravenclaw and that was the house mascot, but that didn't mean anything - a quarter of wizarding Britain were former Ravenclaws. And it wasn't like only Ravenclaws could make or use or wear anything with an eagle on it, anyway. Americans were probably all over the eagle motif too, it was something to do with their country... though he hadn't sounded like an American. He'd sounded like-
And he was the right age to be-
And he was the same shape too, basically-
But it couldn't be Lorcan, he'd left and he wouldn't come back to her turf without saying, it was breaking the breakup rules. You could leave anytime you liked for as long as you wanted (the longer the better), but you couldn't return without warning the other person and telling them where you were going to be, so they could avoid you. Or something like that.
Of course, Lorcan wasn't very good at following rules anyway. And what if he'd written something about coming back in the last Christmas card? Then that would be following the rules, technically... Maybe she should have opened it after all.
Head spinning all of a sudden, Corrie watched the man with the eagle kite more closely now, waiting for him to say or do something completely unLorcanish, like slap a small child or drink a couple galleons of firewhiskey.