Post by lucrezia conti on Apr 16, 2024 20:51:57 GMT -7
January 3, 2029
The combination of drunken revelry and the setting off of fireworks on New Year's Eve had meant that there was more noise than usual in Horizont Alley and its vicinity and far fewer donors or recipients in and out of the blood bank, but Lucrezia was surprised to hear the commotion recommence after a lull of a few nights—in the early morning, as strange as it was. Living nocturnally, there was a lot that she saw that others didn't because they were asleep, though she didn't know what was happening on a random Wednesday, either. The winter sun rose sooner, so Lucrezia grabbed her parasol out of instinct before stepping out of her flat connected to the blood bank to investigate.
Once outside, she was immediately met with not only rain but the odor of something's having burned. It wasn't just the stale cigarette smoke from overnight, and as she neared Diagon Alley, Lucrezia understood why. Ollivanders, the wand shop at which so many witches and wizards had purchased their first wands, had burnt to the ground. She didn't get closer to the scene initially, however. There were all kinds of officials investigating, and Lucrezia had no information to volunteer.
Veronica Ollivander, the present owner of the family-run business that had been around for centuries, was there among what little remained of the historic shop. It was a challenge to imagine how devastating the experience must have been for her. Lucrezia hadn't been part of the magical community in London for her entire life, but she had lived there for almost eighteen years and owned and operated the blood bank for a few years less than that—long enough to know the Ollivanders and the various other families with a long-standing presence there.
Grateful for the cloud cover, Lucrezia returned to her flat, whipping up a quick batch of brodo di pollo—Italian chicken soup—and putting some in a large metal vacuum flask so that it would stay hot. With the vacuum flask of soup, a spoon, and a blanket for some added comfort all in a bag (and a proper umbrella over her head), Lucrezia then returned to the charred wand shop. She was sure that Veronica, who reminded her of her own daughter, hadn't had an opportunity to eat anything, and she had probably been out there in the cold the whole time.
"…Veronica?" Lucrezia called out, the Italian pronunciation of her name evident as she spoke. "I have some soup for you." She stood back slightly, not wanting to get in anyone's way and be told off by some Ministry worker for looking decades younger than she was.
veronica giselle ollivander
Once outside, she was immediately met with not only rain but the odor of something's having burned. It wasn't just the stale cigarette smoke from overnight, and as she neared Diagon Alley, Lucrezia understood why. Ollivanders, the wand shop at which so many witches and wizards had purchased their first wands, had burnt to the ground. She didn't get closer to the scene initially, however. There were all kinds of officials investigating, and Lucrezia had no information to volunteer.
Veronica Ollivander, the present owner of the family-run business that had been around for centuries, was there among what little remained of the historic shop. It was a challenge to imagine how devastating the experience must have been for her. Lucrezia hadn't been part of the magical community in London for her entire life, but she had lived there for almost eighteen years and owned and operated the blood bank for a few years less than that—long enough to know the Ollivanders and the various other families with a long-standing presence there.
Grateful for the cloud cover, Lucrezia returned to her flat, whipping up a quick batch of brodo di pollo—Italian chicken soup—and putting some in a large metal vacuum flask so that it would stay hot. With the vacuum flask of soup, a spoon, and a blanket for some added comfort all in a bag (and a proper umbrella over her head), Lucrezia then returned to the charred wand shop. She was sure that Veronica, who reminded her of her own daughter, hadn't had an opportunity to eat anything, and she had probably been out there in the cold the whole time.
"…Veronica?" Lucrezia called out, the Italian pronunciation of her name evident as she spoke. "I have some soup for you." She stood back slightly, not wanting to get in anyone's way and be told off by some Ministry worker for looking decades younger than she was.
veronica giselle ollivander
