The sun that streamed lavishly through the gaps between the jutting upper stories of the shops in Diagon Alley warmed the skin of those who lifted their faces up to greet it or who had, in an effort to combat the heat of exertion tempering their skin, rolled up the sleeves of their robes or clean, starched button-down shirts. It had been weeks since Isadora had gone to Diagon Alley, too. Months, even, you might argue. After being slathered in sun cream by one of her grandmother’s ladies-in-waiting, Isadora donned her sunhat and was helped to apparate by one of the butlers named Smith, just Smith. No first name? Or was Smith his first name? Who knew?
Isadora and Smith appeared with a crack in the Leaky Cauldron and he followed her out into the courtyard, getting them entrance into the shopping district. He left her then, promising to pick her up later on, not specifying a time, and then Isadora was on her own, beginning to walk through the alley, weaving through the thrumming crowds, towards the spot where she promised she’d meet Jessica. It had been a quick letter correspondence, both girls appearing excited for the trip to the shopping district. Isadora herself had her paycheque to burn and was eager to do so and perhaps, even, cast a cursory glance over a wedding dress or two. Though she wouldn’t think about that. No, she would just focus on something else – anything else. That was for the best.
Soon enough, Isadora reached Jessica. “Good morning!” She greeted the girl warmly. “How has your summer been?” She asked.
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