It was a bleak Saturday morning. A week of training had passed thus far with few events of any note. Really, it seemed as though Zathras and Neville were observing the trainees. It was a good idea, in Justin's mind. They had to know their weak spots, and their strong ones of course. He only felt a little jaded that they hadn't done anything new yet. It was mindless and boring. 'Show us what you know.' Simultaneously Justin felt that he knew quite a bit and very little.
He sat at a tiny table in the most windowed corner of his cinder-box apartment. It overlooked the alley below and he could see out onto Diagon. People milled about in the wet falling snow. The clouds were low slung today, so low that they obscured the tops of the taller buildings in the greater part of the city. Before him sat a plate of rubbery eggs and soggy toast, thanx to Justin's D- in his Kitchen Witchery course back at Hogwarts. At the time, he'd been skeptical he'd ever use it. Now, he only wished he'd listened to his professor. Poking the solid yellowy mass with his fork without much interest, Justin propped an elbow on the table and leaned lazily onto it.
How was he going to spend his weekend? This really wasn't the life he'd imagined for himself. Alone, stuffed into a shoe box in the back of Diagon's closet, watching life go by outside without him. Very alone. It was all Justin could do at times not to ruminate on Hannah and what could have been. What was she about now? Maybe training to become a Healer? And then there was Ernie; wherever Hannah was he was there also. No girl, no best friend, no family, only a job that he wasn't precisely sure he wanted that wasn't precisely sure they wanted him either. He didn't even have a telle, nowhere to plug one in, it was ludicrous.
It was too early for a drink and too late to go back to bed. He might, he supposed, go out and look for another pub while it was light, or some semblance thereof, out. Donning his own ministry issue cloak, which was surprisingly warm against the London winter, Justin locked up and headed out into the wet streets. With the Christmas season over, and Valentine's Day a good month off, the shoppers out seemed as lost as Justin felt. Passing by Ollivander's Justin briefly considered popping in to say hullo, only he hadn't left on the best terms and he decided that perhaps the old man wouldn't really like to see him after all. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, Justin hunched onward.
Fortescue's wasn't far beyond the wand shop and he thought perhaps to stop for a hot cocoa. These plans were dashed as well, however when he spotted two people he hadn't intended on seeing for a good 10 years or so. Hannah and Ernie were walking down the alley in his direction. For a moment all Justin could do was stare. She was radiant. As much as anyone else, the years had been good to her. Her golden curls bounced and sparkled with snowflakes as she laughed at something horribly interesting Ernie must have just said. He looked the same as Justin remembered him, rather like a rugby player, very robust and rugged. Justin backed off of Diagon, trying to keep from catching their eye. He ducked behind a buttress, and watched as they obliviously passed and went about their business. Hannah, Justin couldn't help noticing, had grown rather large around the middle portion. He felt as though he'd swallowed a stone as he leaned against the building behind him. She was pregnant.
Justin's eyes felt frozen shut, the wind whipping up the narrow alley he'd backed into was icy cold and wet to boot. Prying them open he trudged down the slope leading further back into the dankness. He really wasn't in the mood for a hot cocoa anymore. Something a bit stronger was in order. His eyes browsed the dingy wooden signs that rocked on their chains above the doorways. At least half of the doors had no sign at all, and nothing looked remotely like a pub. He was stopped before 'Ingot Dungeon' wondering if it were a bank or maybe if he ought to pop in and see if he'd found his prize when someone knocked flat into him.
Books clattered to the frozen ground, and Suzan Bones let out a startled cry. Surprised to have bumped into her in such an unlikely place, Justin stooped to help her gather her things. She looked at him with a face of a doe in headlights. Concerned Justin handed her things over. "Alright there Suzan?"
"Oh, yes, I," She replied, flustered. She shifted her load into a manageable pile, and shuffled her feet, not meeting his eyes at first. "I'm only, it's just, um, studying material you know."
Confused, he glanced at the title of her top book, recognizing it as a dark arts potion manual at once. She'd done nothing but surprise him all week, but this actually seemed a bit more like the Suzan he know. "Well that's an awfully good idea. I suppose that's how you know as many spells of that sort as you do. I'm a bit behind myself, it seems. Do you need a hand at all?"
"Oh no!" She said quickly. "No I can manage on my own, in fact I'm meeting a friend just up the way so I ought to get going actually. I'll see you Monday then."
She pushed past him before he had a chance to reply, glancing over her should as if to be sure he wasn't following. Odd that, he thought, she seemed a bit edgy about his finding her here. As he watched her bustle up the alley, Justin noticed that the sky had begun to grow darker. Night came so early this time of year. Despite the fact that he wanted to find a new haunt, he really didn't think this was the sort of street that would have one to suit him. And truth be told, now that porch lights were clicking on, where they were even used in this part of town, he didn't much want to be hanging about here. Slowly he trudged back out to Diagon and took his time wending his way home. He'd have a long evening of nothing to do ahead of him. Perhaps Susan really had the right idea, a bit of reading to pass the time couldn't hurt.
After mounting the winding staircase to his apartment, Justin raised his wand to unlock the door but found, to his horror, that it was already ajar. Sure that he'd tightly shut up before he'd gone out, Justin kicked the door open slowly, wand at the ready. What would anyone want with his apartment. It wasn't as though he had anything of value in the first place. But they'd taken everything anyhow it seemed. Indeed, he'd been burgled. All of his bedding was gone, his closet was empty of even the hangars, they'd even taken the chairs that were part of the 'furnished' apartment décor (the table and bed were nailed down). The only thing left were his personally papers, scattered about the floor. Letters from his mum with muddy footprints on them, his little sisters drawings ripped in two.
He was on his knees without realizing it, two scraps of binder paper with a childish drawing of Justin slaying a dragon in each hand. Hot tears burned his frozen cheeks as they made their suicide jump to the floor below. What on earth would anyone want with his things. They hadn't been worth anything. And worst of all, how could any human vandalize his most prized possession and leave them for him to mourn like this.
The evening was spent gathering and cleaning and mending what was left of Justin's life through a bit of wandwork. His back pressed against the cold stone wall and the door still wide open. He slept with only his cloak to stave off the night.
He sat at a tiny table in the most windowed corner of his cinder-box apartment. It overlooked the alley below and he could see out onto Diagon. People milled about in the wet falling snow. The clouds were low slung today, so low that they obscured the tops of the taller buildings in the greater part of the city. Before him sat a plate of rubbery eggs and soggy toast, thanx to Justin's D- in his Kitchen Witchery course back at Hogwarts. At the time, he'd been skeptical he'd ever use it. Now, he only wished he'd listened to his professor. Poking the solid yellowy mass with his fork without much interest, Justin propped an elbow on the table and leaned lazily onto it.
How was he going to spend his weekend? This really wasn't the life he'd imagined for himself. Alone, stuffed into a shoe box in the back of Diagon's closet, watching life go by outside without him. Very alone. It was all Justin could do at times not to ruminate on Hannah and what could have been. What was she about now? Maybe training to become a Healer? And then there was Ernie; wherever Hannah was he was there also. No girl, no best friend, no family, only a job that he wasn't precisely sure he wanted that wasn't precisely sure they wanted him either. He didn't even have a telle, nowhere to plug one in, it was ludicrous.
It was too early for a drink and too late to go back to bed. He might, he supposed, go out and look for another pub while it was light, or some semblance thereof, out. Donning his own ministry issue cloak, which was surprisingly warm against the London winter, Justin locked up and headed out into the wet streets. With the Christmas season over, and Valentine's Day a good month off, the shoppers out seemed as lost as Justin felt. Passing by Ollivander's Justin briefly considered popping in to say hullo, only he hadn't left on the best terms and he decided that perhaps the old man wouldn't really like to see him after all. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, Justin hunched onward.
Fortescue's wasn't far beyond the wand shop and he thought perhaps to stop for a hot cocoa. These plans were dashed as well, however when he spotted two people he hadn't intended on seeing for a good 10 years or so. Hannah and Ernie were walking down the alley in his direction. For a moment all Justin could do was stare. She was radiant. As much as anyone else, the years had been good to her. Her golden curls bounced and sparkled with snowflakes as she laughed at something horribly interesting Ernie must have just said. He looked the same as Justin remembered him, rather like a rugby player, very robust and rugged. Justin backed off of Diagon, trying to keep from catching their eye. He ducked behind a buttress, and watched as they obliviously passed and went about their business. Hannah, Justin couldn't help noticing, had grown rather large around the middle portion. He felt as though he'd swallowed a stone as he leaned against the building behind him. She was pregnant.
Justin's eyes felt frozen shut, the wind whipping up the narrow alley he'd backed into was icy cold and wet to boot. Prying them open he trudged down the slope leading further back into the dankness. He really wasn't in the mood for a hot cocoa anymore. Something a bit stronger was in order. His eyes browsed the dingy wooden signs that rocked on their chains above the doorways. At least half of the doors had no sign at all, and nothing looked remotely like a pub. He was stopped before 'Ingot Dungeon' wondering if it were a bank or maybe if he ought to pop in and see if he'd found his prize when someone knocked flat into him.
Books clattered to the frozen ground, and Suzan Bones let out a startled cry. Surprised to have bumped into her in such an unlikely place, Justin stooped to help her gather her things. She looked at him with a face of a doe in headlights. Concerned Justin handed her things over. "Alright there Suzan?"
"Oh, yes, I," She replied, flustered. She shifted her load into a manageable pile, and shuffled her feet, not meeting his eyes at first. "I'm only, it's just, um, studying material you know."
Confused, he glanced at the title of her top book, recognizing it as a dark arts potion manual at once. She'd done nothing but surprise him all week, but this actually seemed a bit more like the Suzan he know. "Well that's an awfully good idea. I suppose that's how you know as many spells of that sort as you do. I'm a bit behind myself, it seems. Do you need a hand at all?"
"Oh no!" She said quickly. "No I can manage on my own, in fact I'm meeting a friend just up the way so I ought to get going actually. I'll see you Monday then."
She pushed past him before he had a chance to reply, glancing over her should as if to be sure he wasn't following. Odd that, he thought, she seemed a bit edgy about his finding her here. As he watched her bustle up the alley, Justin noticed that the sky had begun to grow darker. Night came so early this time of year. Despite the fact that he wanted to find a new haunt, he really didn't think this was the sort of street that would have one to suit him. And truth be told, now that porch lights were clicking on, where they were even used in this part of town, he didn't much want to be hanging about here. Slowly he trudged back out to Diagon and took his time wending his way home. He'd have a long evening of nothing to do ahead of him. Perhaps Susan really had the right idea, a bit of reading to pass the time couldn't hurt.
After mounting the winding staircase to his apartment, Justin raised his wand to unlock the door but found, to his horror, that it was already ajar. Sure that he'd tightly shut up before he'd gone out, Justin kicked the door open slowly, wand at the ready. What would anyone want with his apartment. It wasn't as though he had anything of value in the first place. But they'd taken everything anyhow it seemed. Indeed, he'd been burgled. All of his bedding was gone, his closet was empty of even the hangars, they'd even taken the chairs that were part of the 'furnished' apartment décor (the table and bed were nailed down). The only thing left were his personally papers, scattered about the floor. Letters from his mum with muddy footprints on them, his little sisters drawings ripped in two.
He was on his knees without realizing it, two scraps of binder paper with a childish drawing of Justin slaying a dragon in each hand. Hot tears burned his frozen cheeks as they made their suicide jump to the floor below. What on earth would anyone want with his things. They hadn't been worth anything. And worst of all, how could any human vandalize his most prized possession and leave them for him to mourn like this.
The evening was spent gathering and cleaning and mending what was left of Justin's life through a bit of wandwork. His back pressed against the cold stone wall and the door still wide open. He slept with only his cloak to stave off the night.