In the bustle and sound of Diagon, Katherine sat by one of the outdoor chairs in front of a patisserie, content to watch the world pass her by. Her familiar sat on her lap, purring softly as she napped, while Katherine lazily stroked her fur with her left hand. Her right hand holding a large, chocolate dipped macaroon that she snacked on. Several more were in a small, brown paper bag that rested on the small table beside her, and she contemplated whether to finish them all here or save some for her brother.
She was staying at the Leaky Cauldron until the Hogwarts Express came, which was only a few days away. She had a very late start to her school shopping, considering that it was rather late when she decided to come back and finish her term. The Battle of Hogwarts was over a year ago, but it had taken her that long to recover. She wasn't the only one. There were many casualties from the war, and many lives changed because of it. Muggleborn wizards were allowed to come back, a year behind in their studies. Katherine would also be a year behind, having spent a long time recovering from her injuries. Her physical rehabilitation took months, but the psychological trauma took much longer. She cut off ties with most of her friends during her convalescence, afraid of being seen as weak. That pride of hers was never going away, although she was learning to lower her mental barriers just a bit.
She wondered if that would be enough to help mend the relationships she'd forged over the years and abruptly cut with her absence. Would she still have friends coming into Hogwarts? She'd never been the social butterfly, and not having kept up correspondence, she didn't know if her circle of friends were still in school or had moved on. While many decided to complete their education, many others decided to just head out into the real world and carve their own path from there. She thought she could do the latter at first, but she was a Ravenclaw to the core; she felt incomplete not having finished her education, even though she'd been studying throughout her recovery. It just felt good to say she'd finished all seven years, to give a sense of closure on an important chapter in her life and give her a milestone to use a platform for whatever her future goals were.
But those things were still far off, and she had more practical and more present things to deal with. She'd been staying with her brother in London, to be close to Diagon. However, even the convenience of Apparating wasn't enough to calm her increasingly frazzled nerves. She always felt that she was forgetting something, and the frequent trips were getting annoying. Because of that, she decided to just book a room at the Leaky Cauldron, so that she could easily resume purchasing items she needed on a whim's notice. Also, with her here, it meant Jonathan wasn't around as much to pester her as a chaperone. She could do as she pleased and sort out her thoughts at leisure, which is what she was doing now.
She'd just finished shopping for the day, and had stored all her purchases in her room. That gave her the afternoon to just relax and take a moment. She liked watching the wizards and witches, many with their entire family into, going about their daily lives, normal and mundane, like how things were back then. It was comforting. She hoped Hogwarts would also provide a similar sense of comfort, and not be the traumatic scene of carnage like when she left it.
As she lazily followed the people with her eyes, she caught sight of a familiar face within the crowd. There wasn't anything unique to his features, but Katherine could likely spot him from a kilometre away. Shouting his name would be mortifying. Her pride wouldn't sink to that level just yet. But Merlin be damned if she let him get away.
Luckily she was of age and could use her wand without caution. She tossed her half-eaten macaroon up in the air and deftly pulled out her wand in smooth, fluid motion. With the flick, she sent it zooming, weaving about people's heads like a pastry snitch as it went for it's target, landing with a decided whack at the back of Acario's head. The pastry rebounded, deformed from the impact, but was hovering about, gesturing where its source was located.
Even if she couldn't bring herself to call for him, she could manage a wave and, if he could notice from the distance, the warmest of smiles.
