Cliona had come to Knockturn Alley for a reason. Oh, a very good reason indeed, because Cliona Eolande Morfessa didn't leave Schull without a very good reason, of course not. She stood in the shadows of an alleyway just a few yards off the intersection between Knockturn and Diagon and considered what the reason might have been. It was... June? No, later than that, because the late evening sky was almost free of clouds, so she couldn't have been shopping for Rhiannon's birthday. Not that she couldn't get her niece a present while she was here, anyway. Cliona was so proud of the little girl, already finished her first year at Hogwarts and...oh, that's right, she was at home on the estate and had begged to be allowed to come along. Definitely August then.
Satisfied with her reasoning and oblivious to the fact that she still hadn't remembered what she was here for, the old witch made her way down the street, peering into each window as she passed. Something seemed strange, but in a good way. Usually there were lots of people about - not as many as in Diagon Alley, but enough that she felt uncomfortable when she tried to look at each one in turn and decide whether or not they were purebloods - but today, there were just a few. That man in the dark grey cloak with a hat pulled down over his eyes, a large trunk following him closely behind. The young, very short woman in the even shorter skirt, gosh she must have been cold! Cliona was about to ask if she wanted to borrow some gloves when a nice man approached and held out some galleons. The Irishwoman nodded in approval; knowing the young woman would be able to buy herself a nice set of dress robes now. There were some lovely people around when one looked for them.
Slowly realisation dawned that most of the shops were closed, and that it was actually getting quite dark now. Cliona hadn't quite yet figured out that the two things were connected, nor did it occur to her that Knockturn Alley after dark wasn't the best place for a somewhat unstable, lone, seventy-something witch to be wandering without any particular purpose. So she strolled from one window to the next, thinking how pretty that emerald necklace was, and how interesting that apothecary would be if only the door was open, and how interesting it was that a skeleton would be walking around without it's skin, and how half a pint of mead would go down very nicely right about now, and...
A skeleton walking around without it's skin? Didn't that hurt? Had it lost it's skin somewhere? Cliona recalled tales of ancient merrow that could change their skin in their pureblood forms, tales from her childhood whispered around the fire on dark winter evenings. At the time they had seemed so real; it hadn't been until she'd attended Hogwarts and learned the truth that such childish stories had been put behind her. Now, in the darkening alley, they returned, vivid as when she had been eight or nine years old. And suddenly the woman was certain that this was the reason she was here. She watched the figure with her eyes. Then her head turned. And then, seemingly without conscious volition, her feet began to follow as well...
