RP: Incense and Peppermints Date: March 21st, Year Two Characters:Albus Severus Potter, Octavius Pepper Location: Manteia Emporium on Hollow Alley Warnings: None Public/Private: Private Summary: Al indulges his curiosity by slipping into a quirky little shop. Fate only knows what happens there... Status: Incomplete
It hadn't been the first time that Albus passed the shop on his wanderings about the village. He'd passed by Manteia Emporium before, even stopping long enough to gaze in the window and see that the different books and objects all focused on the unsung art of Divination. It piqued Al's curiosity as he'd always had an interest in the subject, even though he knew that it was met with much skepticism even at school. Al decided there had to be something to it - his father's life had been wrapped up in a Prophesy, after all. Besides, if there was little magic involved then Al would doubt that Hogwarts would bother devoting an entire class to the subject. Still, he was always kept his interest in Divinations close to the chest but today, Al felt the inclination to give into his musing and step into the shop, deciding to buy himself a "Happy-18th-Birthday" present.
A small bell chimed as he stepped into the shop and the first thing he noticed was the lack of a cloud of incense that usually accompanied his entrance in the Divination's classroom. The absence of the large, squashy cushions were a nice touch as well as Al had never been truly comfortable perched on a tassled throw pillow despite the Professor's belief that all good Soothsayers preferred the slight discomfort as it kept them linked to the mortal realm. Albus didn't know much about the mortal realm but he did know that it gave him a right pain in the arse when he had to stand up an hour later.
Al found himself walking over to the shelves that held large tea cups and books on tea divinations. He was reminded of a story his Dad had told him about the time when a cooky Professor would always spy a Grim in his tea leaves, despite his Uncle Ron's insistence that it was a 'wonky bowler hat'. Poor Dad, he always did have poor luck when it came to visions of his future. "I wonder if I've inherited that trait," Al murmured to himself as he selected a book and flipped through the pages.