Katie had been anxious the whole day, excited by the possibility of seeing three of her best friends at once. She'd had trouble listening to customers at Quality Quidditch Supplies ramble on about broom issues and who was going to win what game, topics she was usually at least interested in if not passionate about, and the other clerk working had asked her roughly fifteen times to "Stop fidgeting about, Katie, before I start selling tickets for people to come in here and see an Irish stepdancer." Her response had not involved a lack of fidgeting but rather a vehement retort about not even being a redhead. When she was finally allowed to lock up, she practically ran to the other end of Diagon, to the closed WWW, where one last mother was trying to drag her child away from the window displays. The lights were still on inside despite the sign being turned to closed, and she pushed the door open easily, shutting it behind her.
"Oi," she called out, peering around for the familiar shock of bright red hair, "shall I lock up, then?"