Margot stood against a wall, so still she might have been mistaken for a fixture on the building. Her eyes were open but glassy, staring out into nothing, and her hands were pressed flat against the stone behind her as though anchoring herself for support. Her breathing was barely audible and very slow. Most of her focus was on controlling it and keeping it unnoticeable. Not that it was doing her much good, of course. Ghosts didn't need to hear you to know where you were.

A horde of spirits filled the street before her. Some of them passed without looking her way, but many of them had stopped to check her out. None had spoken to her yet; they just whispered amongst themselves, glancing over at her now and then. A few laughed. Margot tried to ignore them, but that was hard to do when her eyes were still open. She didn't dare close them, though. Closing your eyes was the worst thing to do when there were ghosts about. So instead she picked a little gargoyle sitting on the rain gutter of a shop across the street and stared at it, looking above the pale, smoky heads of the dead.

She had no idea where she was. Rudolph had been cranky that afternoon and Margot had decided to give him some space; since he insisted on following her around the house to complain, that had required her to leave SHOP completely. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going and before she knew it, she had left the warmth of Diagon Alley and ended up in this dreary, dark place. As soon as she realized it, she had flattened herself against the wall. It was safer that way; if she tried to find her way back, she would probably just get even more lost.

She had seen a few people, none that she really felt safe speaking to, but it seemed to her there were more ghosts in this place than living persons. They all were scowling and unhappy, many of them hunched over, several with chains. That more than anything told her what sort of place this was. It was the sort of place that sucked people in and bound them irrevocably; a malicious place. She wanted to get out, and felt some tiny flutters of panic in the pit of her stomach; but she stayed put and did not move. Sooner or later, Atlas would find her. Someone would find her.

Ella didn't like Knockturn Alley. It was dirty and grimy, and most of the ghosts were extremely rude and didn't even move out of her way when she walked down the street. It didn't make much of a difference to her that some of them were chained and that it took effort for them to move, she just knew that she certainly wasn't going to step aside for them and that it was unpleasant when they coincided. The Alley was the kind of place where dust would fly if you walked too quickly, where bumping into a wall meant getting scum on your shirt sleeve, and where looking at someone in the wrong way could get you hexed. For Ella, the hexing was not an issue- she was largely expressionless and would likely be one of the people to take offense at an odd glance- but the dirt was absolutely disgusting. That alone was usually enough deterrent for her to stay away.

Today was different though. Today she had a purpose. The search for a pureblood husband was about to get more intense, and Ella was tired of having to be nervous when confrontingmeeting a new prospect for the first time. Until now, her methods had been rather conventional. Consult the list, hunt down her man, intimidate themflirt a little, hope they don't do any research on her before they marry her and create pureblooded children... really just by-the-book husband-hunting. Now she had a new plan. One that wouldn't leave room for mistakes and awkward conversations.

A love potion! All she had to do was find and stalk someone to make sure she chose the perfect one, poison them, and the man of her choice was hers. Yes, she'd have to continue poisoning them for the rest of forever in case they left when they found out what was happening, but Ella really didn't have any qualms about that. She'd get a pureblood husband who loved her unconditionally, which is really all that was required for happiness anyways. Of course, the love potion plan was strictly secret, and her parents would most likely frown on tricking someone into loving her. This meant that Ella felt the need to walk through Knockturn Alley almost entirely covered up, robes on with fabric covering her head, looking slightly ridiculous (that much clothing was entirely unbecoming) but not out of place in such a shady place.

She was keeping her eye out for an apothecary of sorts, or maybe one of the ugly and crazy people lining the streets would be able to help her. Either way, Ella was hoping to find what she was looking for soon- Knockturn Alley was not a good place to aimlessly wander, and she thought it best to get in and out as quickly as possible. Looking around, she noticed a girl on the side of the street who had that crazy look about her, but was at least cleaner than most of the others. Ella adjusted her head wrap a little to make sure she couldn't really be seen and walked over. "You there," she said, ignoring the look of fear on Margot's face and choosing instead to talk to her as if she was simply insane. "I'm looking for..." Ella hesitated here, not wanting to say what she needed until she knew the girl could help her, "a shop. I'm looking for something in particular, but everyone I've come across so far seems completely incompetent." Here it where a normal person would have simply asked for help or direction, but Ella was not normal and would never directly admit to needing something from someone else, so she just let the girl assume that was what was required.

As Margot stood there very carefully trying to ignore the ghosts, which were creepier than almost all the spirits she'd previously encountered, they started to move. Slightly surprised, she blinked and focused on the group. Many of them had looked away from her and were looking down the street, grumbling about pureblood attitude these days and the like. Atlas had said something to her once about the word "pureblood" and its associations in the wizarding world. It had been a passing mention, more of a warning really, amounting to nothing more than "stay away from them." Since Atlas hadn't proceeded to describe a pureblood, Margot had assumed it would be obvious.

"You there."

Margot blinked again and looked apprehensively in the direction of the sound. There stood whatever had spurred the ghosts to meander slowly down the street. It appeared to be humanoid in form, but honestly it was so heavily shrouded in fabric Margot couldn't be sure. It seemed to have a human face; at least, there was a pair of gray-green eyes peering down at her from a very small slit in the fabric. The voice, though muffled, sounded human enough as well. She wondered briefly if it was a banshee--Atlas had warned her about the banshees--but figured that as long as the creature wasn't screaming it couldn't hurt to talk to her.

"I'm looking for...a shop. I'm looking for something in particular, but everyone I've come across so far seems completely incompetent."

So far there was little in the creature's address that was alarming. She couldn't be far from Diagon Alley, since she hadn't been walking that long, and as far as she'd explored there weren't any bodies of water near the Alley. Clearly, the banshee was from out of town, so it made sense for her to be asking for directions. Margot nodded once, very slowly, waiting. This was the place in the conversation where the other person stated what they were looking for and asked if you knew where to find it. Margot doubted she'd be much help, considering she was in unknown territory, but she could certainly try. If all else failed, they could just ask one of the lingering ghosts. One of them had to have been there long enough to know the alley well.

The next part of the conversation didn't come, though. The banshee just stood there, her hard, steely eyes looking down at Margot expectantly. Did banshees only ever come to town for one thing? Was that thing common knowledge among wizards? Margot would hate to slip up on something so silly and ruin her whole cover. Was she supposed to read the banshee's mind? She was a medium, not telepathic. There was a difference; people so often forgot that. Should Margot ask her what she needed? Yes, that seemed to be the best course. Margot blinked again and looked up at the banshee very carefully. She didn't look her in the eye, though. She wasn't sure if that was dangerous with banshees or not, but Atlas generally counseled against looking at things in the eye in general. Instead, she focused on a bump in the fabric which she assumed was the banshee's nose.

"What are you looking for?" she asked slowly.

Ugh. The girl seemed fond of staring- Ella HATED people who stared. This was, of course, hypocritical. Ella herself had gone years with staring as her major form of communication. She made a habit of silence as a child, and since she rarely found anything to smile about, staring was her usual interaction with others. This girl seemed to stare out of confusion though rather than any ill will, which Ella would have preferred. Confusion tended to just be annoying.

After her obnoxious staring, the girl graced Ella's request statement only with a nod. A nod? Nods meant yes, an answer that didn’t exactly fit the question. I’m looking for a shop, she had said. Yes was far from an appropriate response. The idea then struck her that perhaps the girl she was talking to was mute. In all her years that she was mute-by-choice, she had never come across anyone else who refused to talk, so the issue hadn’t really come up. Now that she was working on speaking more (apparently trophy wives were supposed to be silent in some situations but were also supposed to know how to socialize) she found the other girl’s silence quite bothersome. This was not going to be a role reversal, Ella would not act like that bugger Ryan McKenna and talk to someone who didn’t talk back. If the girl went on not speaking and just looking at her strangely, Ella would simply walk away.

"What are you looking for?"

None of your business, you prick was the first thought to come to mind, but voicing that probably wouldn’t get her what she wanted.

Ella wondered why the girl in front of her spoke so slowly. Her words were drawn out, the way you’d talk to a child or a Muggle- anyone likely to not understand much. She found herself slightly offended by it, in fact. Ella was being perfectly logical, speaking full sentences at a normal speed; it was the girl who had the look of a crazy. Perhaps she just couldn’t hear her? That was probably it, what with all the ugly fabric wrapped around her, blocking her mouth. Ella didn’t like not giving her the chance to see her face anyways. People tended to treat her better when they looked at how pretty she was, and Ella could only assume that if everyone in Knockturn Alley had been allowed to see her face, she would have already been helped. She removed the head wrap, letting it act as a scarf so that her face could be seen the next time she spoke.

“I need a potion,” Ella spoke as slowly as the other girl had, just in case she was as stupid as she sounded. “I need somewhere to buy a potion, to be more specific.” The thought then crossed her mind that specific might have been too big of a word.

There was a distinct animosity in the banshee's eyes. Margot wasn't bothered. What she knew of banshees implied that they were generally unpleasant creatures to begin with, so she didn't expect pleasantness from her. Their circumstances weren't conducive to happy interaction either; they were dirty, and it was dark, and they were surrounded by the nasty sort of ghosts. Margot generally wasn't one to be concerned one way or another with the attitudes of other people, but she supposed that in this case, if she had any interest in being offended she probably would have forgiven the creature anyway.

“I need a potion.”

Margot nodded again. She found potions to be very interesting, mostly because it was an area of magic that she could dabble in. It was less magical and more scientific; while she had never been very interested in science, it was interesting to see how mostly non-magical things could join together to produce magical effects. Her free time lately had been spent reading through the cleanest of potions books, and when Atlas was home, trying her hand at it. So far she had successfully made a Forgetfulness Potion and a Swelling Solution.

“I need somewhere to buy a potion, to be more specific.”

Couldn't she make it herself? Margot was under the impression that all wizards had at least some competence at potion-making. Then again, she knew there were some potions that were extremely difficult. She supposed it was just like science, or cooking. Everyone could toast bread, but it required a specialist to split an atom. So either she was lazy, or the potion was too difficult for her. A third possibility struck her: could banshees brew potions? She would ask Atlas the next chance she got. She didn't want to offend the banshee, just in case they could.

She thought about her answer. She had yet to see a place that brewed potions in Diagon Alley, but there was always Cal Ferox. Margot enjoyed it when he came to buy ingredients; he was an interesting character to observe. She had actually begun to formulate a theory of the connection between wizardry, Tolkien and the Rings of Power based on the similarities between Cal and Gollum; but beyond that, she knew him to be an expert potion-brewer. Whatever kind of potion the banshee needed, Margot was sure Cal would be able to brew it. She knew where to find him, too; Jasper Christie's jewelry boutique.

The problem was that the boutique was in Diagon Alley, and Margot didn't know how to get back there. It occurred to her that, if the banshee knew where Diagon Alley was, this could be her chance to get back. She would have to be careful with her words. She couldn't just tell the banshee that Cal Ferox would help her and that he could be found at Jasper's. The thing might just run off and leave her there. Or maybe...that was a good thing. Margot could just follow her back. It was a good thing banshees couldn't Apparate. But no--that was too risky. Better to maintain some usefulness until she was safe back where she belonged.

"I know a man who can help you," Margot said. "He lives in Diagon Alley."

Again with the nodding! How is ‘yes’ an appropriate response to everything anyone says? Ella also went through a silent phase, but she knew better than to nod at everything ever. It was stupid-looking, and if Ella knew what a bobblehead was, she would make the comparison. Nodding in response to a straightforward statement… it was simply strange, and Ella was a little hung up on it. If she were to just say “Oranges are orange” or “Ryan McKenna is a gay slut”, any sane person would either not respond or say something more than “yes”. Not that Ella was any sort of expert at conversing, but she did think conversations required a touch more than that.

"I know a man who can help you. He lives in Diagon Alley."


Oh my, how incredibly helpful. The moron in front had given her such vital information, she had no idea how she could ever thank her. A man in Diagon Alley! Ooooo. Because of course, there weren't hundreds of men in Diagon Alley on any given day. That would be downright silly. But wait! This man evidently knew how to brew potions. That would surely narrow it down. Except for... oh yes, everyone in Diagon Alley was a wizard and presumably knew how to brew a potion.

Ella removed the head scarf completely so that she could properly glare.

"Well well. Aren't you just a fountain of knowledge?" Ella asked, hoping her sarcasm was apparent enough. "Most men in Diagon Alley are able to brew potions. Kinda comes along with being a wizard. If this wasn't just the slightest bit important, I'd ask one of them, except for that I happen to need an EXPERT."

The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she was being a little harsh. Then she remembered that she didn't actually care. Her jaw was getting tired from having to explain herself in so much detail, and Ella was extremely close to giving up on this girl and moving on to the next crazy woman on the side of the alley. "Can you help me or not? I don't exactly have time to waste." Not entirely true- it wasn't as if she had a proper job or anything- but she was getting bored. Additionally, Knockturn Alley was beginning to smell.