III:

The stars are blinding tonight. Without a cloud in sight, the full moon seems entirely too large to fit behind the Great Hall's ceiling.

The light from countless candles flicker in and out to a breeze that isn't there, leaving shadows to dance across the room, reflected against polished silverware. Faceless people surround her and she's trying hard to hide her trembles because she's nervous, of course. Nervous because she's an impostor, hiding behind the face of a little girl, behind the face of a name.

"Inglewood, Diana!" Mcgonagall calls out with a severe frown on her face. Swallowing one more breath, she walks forward, counting her steps to the beat of soundless drums. One, two, one, two, one, two.

She sits down on the stool and briefly, she fears she is sitting too high - fears she might fall -

"Oh, how interesting," a voice cuts her short. "This may be a first for me - what a fascinating case you are, Miss Inglewood. Or, would you prefer - "

"That's fine. Inglewood is fine," she interrupts hastily. "I hope that isn't a problem?"

"Well, not a problem at all, that's for certain," the hat answers smoothly. There's a hint of hidden depths behind those words, of ancient years that go far beyond what she has hidden herself. "I'm not one to follow every given rule. But moving on, I must say, minds like you are quite tricky. Now, where to put you?"

"Somewhere nice, maybe?" she asks. "I don't want any trouble."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessarily the case!" a resounding chuckle rings through her head. "Now let's see here…

"You can certainly be loyal when you choose to be, but that's not where your strengths entirely lie. Oh no, Miss Inglewood, you have a thirst for many things. A deep, hidden thirst for dreams you cannot comprehend, only belied by how you plan on getting it. What a silver, silver tongue you have! Hmmm, I see. Well then. I suppose it better be - "

BRRRRRRINGGGGG -

Like every other day, her arm flings outward to catch the alarm clock mid-ring, silencing the ancient device. And like every other day, Diana stares at the ceiling above and contemplates if staying for another five minutes would be pushing it.

But if she doesn't get up now she never really will, and so with a groan, she rises to the sound of her creaking mattress. Getting ready is a chore but it's a movement well-rehearsed at this point, and in a half an hour, she's all set to go.

Sundays, she yawns as her finger directs the laces of her shoes. It's always Sundays.

Rubbing her eyes, she hoists on a backpack (supplied with an Undetectable Extension Charm, Ministry certified!) and collects her meager funds. The pile of paper stacked perilously on top her table almost makes her reconsider doing errands today. But no, those weekly reports can wait; she'll do them later tonight.

Staring into the small mirror hanging next to her front door, she decides the image is good enough and heads off, appreciating that almost two decades in this body has removed all discomfort when it comes to those cold, gray eyes.

I need eggs, she thinks, not wanting to have a repeat of last night's cereal for a very long time. Locking the shop with key and a muttered "Colloportus," she repeats her list: eggs, milk, bread and bacon.

Walking at a sedate pace through the little alley, Diana considers the reality that she really, honestly, should get some vegetables.

Spinach, then, she allows, turning a corner and passing quickly through Diagon Alley, slipping around the crowds of people. And zucchini.

She ducks through several advertisement banners and heads south, entering a rather cramped street before making a sharp right. Stepping past a wooden stall, she finds herself immediately in the midst of an alleyway flooded with color.

Bright red and dull gold line the walls of stores and billows of smoke swamp the air. The scent of medicinal herbs and dried fruit is faint, nearly overwhelmed by the shouts of bargaining passerby. Magic, heavy and warm, lingers on her skin.

A cautious eye on the swarms of people stomping by, she treads along the cobblestone road, weaving through street vendors and performers. She drops a sickle for an elderly man playing on an old erhu and smiles at his returning nod.

Approaching a modest building, she glances at its gleaming words, "Red Lotus," written in English next to several other characters. Her eyes travel down to the eggplant stand underneath and immediately, her nose wrinkles. Without another thought, she walks through the aging open doors and calls out, "Āyí! Are you there?"

Grabbing one of the baskets nearby, Diana decides to start her shopping anyways, even if the store seems devoid of any life. She deftly ignores the cheap charms displayed at the front (but almost double takes at the jar full of vivid crimson shell pieces, speckled with gold), and heads straight to the produce section.

She grabs what she needs (minus the bacon) and picks up more that catch her eye (soy sauce, tofu, and onions! Another vegetable!). Hauling her groceries over to the register, Diana can't help but beam at the older woman sitting languishly at the counter.

"Āyí! I knew you would be here," she laughs when the woman clicks her tongue, levitating the basket to the high table.

"Hmm, you haven't been around these days," the woman, Yue, remarks considerably. She makes a vague motion with her hand and immediately, Diana presents her backpack.

"I've been a bit busy," Diana says sheepishly as the other woman places her groceries into little bags. "You know, with a new store and everything."

Yue mutters something briefly in Mandarin and Diana's smile widens even further.

She had stumbled upon this alley (and consequently, the store) years ago, curious to find any magical equivalents to her memories from another life. It's not entirely the same, especially considering the predominant language here, but they have soy sauce, so that's all that really matters, she supposes.

"Business doesn't mean you stop eating," the woman warns severely, her thick accent transforming the words to something more stern. "Look at you! Not eating, yet you still gained weight."

In automatic response, Diana wraps defensive arms against her waist.

"I'm working on it, āyí," she says helplessly in protest.

Her thoughts travel to the store's entrance and she adds slyly, "Besides, that's better than selling fake Fireball egg shells, right?"

"Careful!" Yue hisses, narrowed eyes cautiously circling the empty aisles. A nearby, tiny folded fan smacks Diana's hand. "Customers might hear!"

Huffing at Diana's responding laughter, the vendor places a brief stasis charm on them before putting them in the backpack.

"Don't forget to come back, okay?" Yue says, casually adding in some snacks on the sly as Diana pays. "And bring that Chinese girl with you next time. Very pretty. I like her much more."

With a warm smile, Diana agrees, thanking the older woman and leaving with a bow. She departs into the crowd, the hordes of people thickening with the rising sun. Still, it hasn't reached midday just yet, and so she deigns it good enough to go back the way she came.

By the time she steps into Diagon Alley, summer's hold on Magical Britain is clear when warm winds blow past the strands of her hair. She steps along the side of the alley, brushing by a family restaurant and a local flower stand, entirely set on napping after that exhaustive shopping trip when a distinctive voice calls -

"- ana! Diana! Oh my god, are you bloody serious - DIANA INGLEWOOD!"

"Oh no," the now identified Diana says, a touch remorseful. "My nap…"

With a sigh, she turns, immediately staring at a slightly lower angle. Her patience is rewarded when a pale, honey-blonde girl emerges from the crowd.

"I can't believe you! Making me wait over a week for your letter!" the girl seethes, stomping a high-heeled boot onto the pavement with a click. The sharply drawn lines around her eyes crystallize the green in them. "And keeping your store address a secret, the nerve! You're lucky I haven't tried a tracking ritual to find you!"

"It's good to see you too, Abby," Diana steers the much shorter girl to a less populous street. A sympathetic smile emerges at the growing upset on the other girl's face. "You know how busy I was this week."

The girl folds her arms with a huff.

"But I am sorry," Diana continues with an appeasing smile. "Come on, let's get some lunch while we're at it."

"Lunch?" Abby blinks, the tune of her mood shifting to something much lighter. "That doesn't sound too bad…"

"Egg sandwiches," Diana says in turn, wrapping an arm briefly around the other girl's shoulder. "With fresh bread and tea. We can catch up while eating. My treat."

"Well, I guess if you really want to," Abby mutters, clearly wavering between two emotional extremes.

Unable to hide a snort, Diana guides her to a familiar cafe nearby. "I insist."

Despite the brief, emotional upset from Abby, it's simply too easy to fall back into their years of friendship. Their initial meeting at Hogwarts is legendary, so to speak, and that's a kind of relationship many struggle to find in their lifetime.

"I've been hanging around Diagon since graduation, just seeing people, y'know?" Abby remarks, running a hand through her perfectly straightened hair. They enter the near empty cafe and head straight to the register, already familiar with the menu of one of their usual haunts.

"Well, I definitely can imagine that," Diana says, eyes roving over the daily pastries offered behind the counter. Abby, immediately catching on, swoons,

"Oh man, those look so good! Let's share one!"

"Carrot cake," Diana says simply, and it becomes a done deal.

"A breakfast sandwich and a slice of carrot cake, please," Abby says to the cashier. The younger boy stammers out a reply and Diana hides a laugh at his flustered state.

(That had been the usual case, especially in the later half of their time at Hogwarts. Though they shared a similar circle of friends, it had always been Abby and Diana, and the former never appeared less than perfect in public. It attracted undue attention, much to the girl's ire, and left Diana thankfully in the shadows.).

"The same sandwich for me, please," Diana says, failing to hide the amusement completely from her voice.

Soon after, the two sit at a high-resting table, with Abby conjuring a mirror to check the state of her lipstick.

"So, let me tell you everything," the girl says firmly, swiping a finger carefully along the sides of her mouth. "I've been preparing for my exam and damn, are those supplies expensive - "

Taking a slow sip of her cup of milk and tea, Diana lets her lips curl into a smile. It's nice to hear someone talk again, she decides, gratefully accepting the plates of food levitating towards them. Those weeks holed up at the shop were probably not entirely healthy.

The conversation continues for a near hour, covering topics both frivolous and not. They talk about Abby's upcoming beautician licensing exam (could she stop by and practice? Yes, she could), what their former peers are up to, what their other friends are up to, who is corresponding with who, and -

"Did you hear?" Abby says lowly, conspiratorially, and Diana nearly rolls her eyes in return. She knows how this usually goes. "Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts this year."

"Well, that hardly matters for us," Diana says wryly, ignoring Abby's growing pout. "We've graduated, we're basically adults. Little Harry Potter will have to have his education without us."

"You're right, I guess," the girl says, dutifully ignoring Diana's muttered response of "Of course I'm right."

"Still, to be Head Girl while Harry Potter is at school," Abby clasps her hands dreamily. "Could you imagine?"

"No," Diana says, voice muffled as she swallows the rest of her sandwich. "I wasn't Head Girl. And neither were you."

"A girl can still dream!" Abby fires back with a huff. As if a thought suddenly occurred to her, she hesitates. At the sight, Diana lowers her fork with a raised eyebrow.

"Speaking of new students," Abby starts slowly. Already realizing where this is headed (coming from another world helps with that), Diana raises her fork again to reach for the carrot cake. "I heard the Weaselys have another son going in this year."

"Good for them," Diana says, inhaling a bite of cake. Her tongue rolls over the sweet frosting, relishing how it melts in her mouth. "They have a girl left, I think."

"They should've stopped after the first one," Abby retorts. She stabs her fork viciously into the cake, causing the table to wobble slightly. "The nerve of that family, letting their children run rampant! "

"It was just one child, actually. And it wasn't - "

"That's not the point!" the girl shoves nearly half of the cake into her mouth. Morosely, Diana wonders if she should retaliate by taking the other half. "They're absolutely fucking shameless letting him off like that! And Mcgonagall! She just turned a blind eye, as if he did nothing wrong!"

Far used to Abby's tirades, Diana rests a chin on her palm and says, "That's not unusual. The head of your house turned a blind eye for you several times too, y'know."

"Well," Abby sniffs, deflating rapidly. "Professor Sprout is fantastic like that. Hey, wait a minute, where did the cake go - "

"She is! I think she was a great teacher," Diana says agreeably, plowing through the confusion and sending the finished plates off to the disposal bin. "But you probably shouldn't let it get all in your head; it's not very healthy."

"I know, I know," Abby hops off her chair while Diana simply leans forward to stand up. The girl rests defeated hands on her hips. "It's just, I'm angry because you never will be."

"I was angry then too," Diana reminds, shoving herself none-too-gently into the smaller girl. With a laugh, she adds, "But that's all in the past. Just let it go - I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," Abby responds glumly as they leave the cafe. "It's just really unfair."

"Things happen," Diana shrugs, remembering moments that feel so far away. "You should focus on your exam instead."

"Yes! The exam, oh my gosh, it's so soon," Abby bursts with a new wave of energy. "So, I'm coming over this week, right?"

"Sure," Diana says easily. "I'll have it cleaned up by then."

"Great! Wear something nice and not - not this," Abby wrinkles her nose at Diana's apparently lackluster attire of plain pants and a shirt. "Gosh, you're a tailor and you still dress like this? You're shaming the entire beauty community."

With a wave of her wand, she transfigures the pants into a modest skirt and charms the shirt's color to a pastel blue. "There, that's better."

"Leave my wardrobe out of this, Abby," Diana says with a roll of her eyes. She changes the skirt back to its original form with a tap of her wand, while returning the shirt's former color with a brush of her fingers.

"Hmph," Abby turns her nose and sniffs, utterly unrepentant. "Spoilsport. Anyways, I'll see you this week, okay?"

And without waiting for another response, she disappears, quickly apparating away with a sharp crack!

Sundays, Diana thinks, left alone in the middle of an alley. She begins her walk back to the shop with a sigh. Why is it always Sundays?