[MP] darkness at the edge [open]

It felt strange adjusting to life outside of school at the age of thirty eight. Although Sam knew it was the right decision and not one he had made lightly, several times a day when he glanced at a clock, his mind would automatically remind him what he would have been doing at Hogwarts. Right now he was walking from Louise's studio, where he had spent the morning, back to his father's shop on Diagon alley, and it was a little after 1pm. Or, as his mind insisted, halfway through fourth period with the fifth years. Briefly he wondered how they were doing without him, before reminding himself that Professor Trelawney had returned. She'd taught him throughout his own divination classes, and while she'd struggled in recent years he had no doubt she would be delighted to be back. He really should write her a letter, he thought suddenly, but not now.

Now, he was expected back at the antique shop his father and older sister ran. Sam's new life consisted of mornings painting in a small room - little more than a cupboard - at the back of Louise's studio and helping tend the shop during the afternoon so his father could take some time off. Now in his seventies, Basil Dickinson was delighted to be seeing more of his youngest child, particularly when it also meant he could spend more time at home.

Sam hadn't eaten yet, so he stopped briefly at a cafe to pick up sandwiches and fresh coffee. As he stood in the queue waiting to be served, his eyes fell on a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet. The words, though few, made the Seer's blood run cold and he stared at it in a seeming daze until the woman behind him in line tapped him on the shoulder and dragged him back to reality. Apologising vaguely, Sam ordered a roast beef and salad sandwich and latte on autopilot, almost forgetting to take his change from the two galleons he handed over, and then dropping them absent-mindedly into the paper bag that held his lunch. He left the cafe in a daze, his mind racing.

Were the Death Eaters returning?

Was it all starting again?

There had been too many deaths, too much tragedy. It was all supposed to be over, things were supposed to be getting back to normal, back to being...safe. Sam didn't realise he had stopped walking and was leaning against the window of a nearby shop, staring into space, still holding the tall coffee cup in one hand. "Not again..." he muttered to himself, oblivious to the concerned looks from passers-by.

Even though most of her errands could be done by the Ollivander house elf, Oli the last four years Korrine made it a habit assigning a few tasks to herself. It was her way of insuring she step out of the house and store at least once a day. She often made the excuse to her upset house elf, that she needed to get some fresh air, or enjoyed socializing while she was out, but in truth the need to be outside in wizard society was likely from the time she spent in hiding during the last wizarding war. The Cabin fever and then depression she felt during that time was only known fully by her son. For by the time she was with her husband again the war ended, and she had more important things to focus on … like nursing her husband back to health. Still since then she tried to keep herself busy and often out of her house to avoid slipping into that depression that seemed to be waiting like a shadow in rooms of her empty house.

This drive to be out among others almost caused her to take a tour of the wizarding world last summer. She cancelled her trip when the German village of Strudelburg was destroyed. Instead took that time to raising knutts for the town and visiting Sweeten, French, and Germany and even attended the Would Quidditch Cup in Brazil in her efforts. Not quite the trip she planned but one she felt was worth the time spent. Although the Village of Strudelburg was a natural disaster, the light of compassion in the wizarding world seemed to Korrine to be flickering out and being replaced with ether callous, disdain or prejudice. Many were willing to complain about the village’s stadium destruction and the Quidditch World Cup location change but few were willing to help with the poor homeless wizards that lost everything. With the release of known Death Eaters, and the Russian and Sweden ministries seem to be facing off regarding Pure and muggle blood tensions could another war be possible?

This was one issues she was planning to discuss about during the Witches Institute meeting she was hosting at her house later this evening. She wanted to see what were the view of the young witches in the group. If they could read in-between the line of the Daily Prophet and if they had any acute awareness of the rising tides of factions.  It was a heavy topic that she knew most would like to stay ignorant of… but a witch of Korrine’s age could not help but see familiar signs.

Either way she put extra effort in this meeting hoping that if their conversation was not on a pleasant topic everything else was. Still, Tea socials was Ollivander’s specially and she had already ran all her errands and was on her way back to her husband’s store front with a basket full or breads pastries and large tin of fresh tea. Just a few yards from the door she noticed a tall blond man who walked quite unusually slow, come to a stop in front of her husband’s store. He leaned on the window and in stead of looking to get a glimpse of the wands he seemed to stare into space. She was just a step or two from him, when she overheard him say "Not again..."

The seventy two year old woman's face broke with concern as she circle him trying to look into his face as she asked. “My dear, are you well?”

Only after their eyes met that Korrine remembered who he was. The young master Dickinson, Basil and Louise Dickinson youngest child. Korrine had been a house mate of Louise and had known Basil since they were Hogwarts sweethearts. Their son … Samuel if she remembered correctly, (not having quite the wonderfully sharp memory of her husband Gerrick) had became one of the youngest deputy Headmasters that Hogwarts had known. It looked at one time that he might become the schools new Headmaster. That was if McGonigal ever retired, but with Merlin’s blessings she would likely out serve Dumbledore.  Korrine vaguely recalled that he became ill during the Nasty Victory Plague incident and lately took a sabbatical from his positions at the school. She was surprised that he didn’t travel and instead had glimpsed him on the street and in the Dickinson store on occasion. She wondered what was the reason for the change.  She did not have a chance to ask Louise about iit yet.  She hoped it was not because he did not never fully recovered from the illness. She wondered if this is what he was currently inflicted with. Yet she put aside her unjustified fears and continued to ask him, “Mr. Dickinson, Are you feeling ill? Do you need to sit down?”

It had to be a mistake. Just the Daily Prophet reporting a rumour some junior reporter had heard. They'd probably print a retraction in a couple of days and all would be well. Nothing to worry about, he tried to tell himself. Nobody else was going to die...

Then Sam realised someone was speaking to him. A kind, concerned voice, reminding him vaguely of his mother, dragging his thoughts back to the present. His eyes refocussed and he was facing an elderly witch, familiar and yet for the moment he couldn't place her. Someone who frequented his father's shop, perhaps? Shop... The thought grounded him sufficiently that he took in his surroundings, glanced around and realised precisely where he was. Which meant this lady was... "Mrs Ollivander?" he didn't mean it to come out sounding like a question, but she knew his name, and clearly thought he needed assistance.

Of course she knew his name. The lady might not be blessed with her husband's phenomenal memory, but in this case she didn't need it. Her daughter was a recent Hogwarts graduate; while the girl hadn't been in Sam's house she had studied his subject all the way to NEWT level, so he had known her well. Lesleigh had been in the same year as poor Linnet, he recalled. "I...I'm fine. I just saw something in the paper that...disturbed me for a minute" he said, transferring the coffee cup into the hand that held his lunch bag, leaving his right hand free to offer by means of greeting. "It's nice to see you. I hope you're well..?"  He almost said something more, then remembered that anything he'd had to deal with paled into insignificance compared with what this woman had experienced in the past few years. His parents had been separated by the war; but his mother had left the country to live with his older sister and her wife when the first reports of the muggleborn registration committee had come out. Mr Ollivander had had no such luxury, he'd simply vanished. Sam couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like for his wife and family.

Belatedly, the Seer realised that Mrs Ollivander was holding a basket, and it looked heavy. Despite still holding his lunch and rapidly-cooling coffee, he offered his free hand for a second time and said "May I help you with that?"

The witch smiled as he recognized her and her face softened with relief when he said he was fine.

"Oh, yes. The paper has been quite disturbing as of late has in it?" She gave a mournful nod of understanding. His faculties seem to be returning as he attempted the civil niceties of society. Korrine who was taught to always carried her things on her left to have her right hand free for such an greeting occasion, extended out her hand and gave a soft grip. She replied, "It is nice to see you too. I am well. Trying to stay young by keeping myself busy as always." She gave a wink as if it was her secret. She perceived that being a number of decades older then the young man he would not assume she was being flirtatious.

The young wizard seemed quite recovered and well trained as a gentleman as he offered to carry her shopping basket for her. She almost took him up on the offer out of respect to the young man's wishes when she remembered just a minute ago he was slacked and seemed to troubled to continue. Perhaps what the young man needed was a ear to voice her opinions too.. and obviously some were to drink his coffee. Besides she would enjoy the company. Her errands did not take her nearly as long as she wanted to be out today.

"Oh, dear young Mr. Dickinson, you flatter me, but it is quite unnecessary. You see, my house elf was quite beside herself that I took it upon myself to run the errands. It would be an injustice to her to have someone else assist me so close to home." She said with a smile that alluded to a plan she was about to reveal. Korrine only had to say the name of the house elf to have the spry gray hair floppy eared elf in a crisp white pillowcase and an apron made out of scraps of lace popup next to her. Korrine hadded her basket to the elf as she addressed her. "Would you see that this is brought up stairs, Oli?  I would also love to take an early tea out here to enjoy watching the shoppers and the afternoon sun. Can you also bring down a bistro set for me?" 

The elf face rinked in a smiled before she disappeared. Korrine turned back to the young blond man "Mr. Dickinson I would love some company, if you are not otherwise engaged for what I might dare to assume is your late lunch and coffee."

A white olive leaf patterned iron bistro set appeared next to them. Korrine took her seat and waved for the young wizard to join her. "Back to what you were saying, I agree that the paper has been quite 'disturbing' lately. In fact I was going to bring up some concerns with the young ladies in my Witches Institute meeting this evening." She was about to continue to describe just what she found disturbing but thought better of it. The Philanthropist was not only skilled in social graces but knew when to hold her tongue until she figured out just what side of the political fence her company stood on. It prevented back peddling, and uncomfortable moments.

Already Sam was starting to feel a little better, the shock of what he had read beginning to subside as he spoke with the older woman. She reminded him of Minerva in some ways; working with the Hogwarts headmistress had been one of the greatest honours of Sam's life. He missed talking with the wise witch more than anything else; while she had insisted he keep in touch it wouldn't be the same as sitting in her office of an evening, discussing the students, classes and anything else that needed their attention. Mrs Ollivander had the same quiet dignity - though he somehow couldn't imagine her animating a whole row of statues to do battle with quite the same glee. Even the arrival of the elf helped him feel better; another familiar creature, if not face, that made him feel calmer and more grounded.

"Actually, that would be lovely. I'm working at my fathers shop this afternoon, but I don't have to be back for another half hour or so" he said with an attempt at a smile that was almost convincing. Before he could say anything more a table and chairs had appeared, no doubt thanks to the little elf who had just disappeared with Mrs Ollivander's basket. Gratefully he subsided into the seat that was offered, placing his sandwich bag and already cooling coffee onto the table. Aside from his troubled thoughts, it was a pleasant afternoon, the sun shining through sparse clouds and casting a pattern through the ironwork of the table onto the pavement. "Thank you" he said again, a little unnecessarily, but not wanting to bring up the subject of his concerns without some sort of prompting. He supposed he could have commented on the weather, but...

Thankfully Mrs Ollivander returned first to the subject, just as he unwrapped his sandwich from the bag, flattening out the brown paper to act as a makeshift plate. He didn't start eating though; if his companion was planning to take tea he wasn't about to be impolite by starting before her. At the renewed mention of the Daily Prophet Sam nodded thoughtfully. He'd heard of the Witches Institute during his years at Hogwarts, though he wasn't sure what it was other than some sort of exclusive club that wealthy young witches seemed to belong to. It didn't surprise him to learn that this lady was involved. "Yes. I read that someone...who had previously been released from Azkaban was now back in England. If rumours are to be believed" he added "and it made me wonder whether there was a reason for that. Whether...we have to be on our guard all over again." He toyed with his coffee cup, long fingers running around the rim as he asked, almost in an undertone "I don't suppose anyone at the Witches' institute has...heard anything of these rumours?"

[OOC: So sorry for the long wait!]

“Oh, you are quite welcome, but it is truly my pleasure.” Replied the gracious witch.

She noticed that he had unwrapped his sandwich but set it down, apparently waiting for her tea to arrive. Again, she thought how Mrs. Dickinson must have done such an excellent job in raising this young wizard with superb manors and tasked herself to tell her old friend so.  Her own son had been able to grow quite well polished too, but her daughter hasn’t, at least yet. Maybe her daughter would mature in the next 10 years and gain the graces of proper wizard society.  Yet as in tradition of wizard society, the pleasantries can't last forever when there are dark roomers to discuss.

Korrine nodded with comprehension as the young wizard talked about being concerned that the Wizarding world of Britain should be ‘on guard ’ over the supposed Death eaters return. Like her husband, Korrine traditionally kept on the fence with most political issues, preferring instead to see it from both points of view. It helped immensely when she rubbed elbows with dignitaries whom political views tend to be as colorful and assorted as their country’s cuisine. She only wavered when her compassion or empathy pulled when a party suffered or was in dire need of help or support. The recent events of the Second Wizarding war pushed her to the brink of almost falling over this 'fence line' completely. She had to work exceptionally hard to find any compassion for those in the party that was responsible for the abduction and torture of her husband. It appeared that the damaged to her own biased was harder to repair then the damage to her husband’s body. She had to lately push aside her own bristling coat and use her empathy towards the other party to keep her balanced, and amiable among their company.

“I am afraid it might be true, but no we had not heard much more than what the Daily Prophet already posted.” She replied tactfully. He may or may not be aware that Miss. Grosvenor was one the Witches' institute members. She was the niece of the recently released Death Eater Purcell, who were both noted in the article. The polite group of multi-affiliated witches had an unwritten rule to not to promote gossip, especially among themselves. Although some younger and more drama oritated members have done so, Korrine was certainly not going to break this rule now. Yet many of the group, could not help but to guess that Miss. Grosvenor had visited Purcell during her recent trip to Italy and then more than one said they saw her in Singapore, attending the Quidditch Gala on his arm. Korrine was not sure Miss. Grosvenor's social defying actions were based on the love and need for family connection, but the one thing she was sure of was that Purcell did not travel to Britain to see her as the article dismissively claimed.

Korrine was preparing to dance around the subject, as her tea set and a tiered tray of a small assortment of finger sandwiches and her favorite french biscuits arrived. She noted that a napkin and plate appeared for the young wizard too. Oli was always good at providing for her guests. Korrine picked up the napkin and placed it in her lap. Then tending to her tea, she pour and dress it she continued to explain, “Since he was never exiled, I knew Purcell would eventually return to the British Wizarding World, although it seems a little too soon to be sensible. I do not think seeing his niece, is his main objective, but I suppose it would only be natural for Purcell to want to return home even if he is likely watched like a hawk by our Ministry. Although it has raised quite a number of concerns with me as in others, I am trying to put my faith back into Wizard society and hope it would not repeat even the most tame indiscretions of the war.”

Korrine took a sip and allowed for the young wizard to reply. Finding the tea acceptable, she continued to analyze the assortment of finger sandwiches and settled on a light cucumber one considering she had just had a light lunch. “What had me concern in the Daily Prophet” she started to say as she gingerly placed two sandwiches slices on her small plate. “was that article on the muggle-born lash back in Russia. Don’t get me wrong I am for equal rights for everyone, but one could not help but notice it sits quite opposed to Swedish recent actions. Especially in view of the forced release of Purcell and relocation of Durmstrang to Sweden. I am worried that other Ministries have not learned from our mistakes and as a result there is a brewing of political extremes."
 

The little elf reappeared as Mrs Ollivander was talking about the Witches' Institute, bustling around and replacing his brown paper bag with a plate and napkin. Without thinking that some people might consider it strange, he thanked the small creature and was rewarded with a pleased, low bow. Sam hadn't seen any house elves until he'd gone to Hogwarts, but his close friendship with several Hufflepuffs had meant that he had quickly learned the location of the kitchens had had been fascinated by their love of preparing the food, taking care of the young witches and wizards...their desire to serve. It was easy to see how so many of the poor creatures had ended up enslaved to less thoughtful families. The Hogwarts elves had fought on that terrible night, despite several professors telling them that nobody expected them to, that they were allowed to remain safely in the kitchens.

He knew little of the Witches' institute, aside from the fact that it was an organisation for women of all ages who wanted to help others and perform charitable works. At least, rightly or wrongly, that was Sam's view of the group. The fact that they hadn't heard much about Purcell or any of his surviving comrades made the Seer feel somewhat better, though what Mrs Ollivander was saying made sense. The man hadn't been exiled, but it was unlikely he was returning to Britain just because he wanted to visit family. "Yes. The Ministry, of course" he said with a sigh of relief, as if this was the only thing he had taken in from all that the lady had just said. Because the Ministry weren't going to allow anything untoward to happen, especially not with Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge. He managed a smile, and now removed the lid from his coffee and took a sip. It had cooled quite a bit, but not enough that it was unpleasant, not if he drank it quickly.

"I'm afraid I hadn't read about that" Sam admitted "though I did find the sudden move of Durmstrang surprising" he made a point of paying attention to anything that affected any of the wizarding schools, simply through force of habit. During his years at Hogwarts, Sam had found that the best way to quash rumours was to make sure one was informed about everything that was going on, and had read not just the Prophet but also the Quibbler and several other smaller publications, as well as corresponded with professors from the other schools. It was far easier to inject a note of authority into one's voice when telling students that no, Beauxbatons definitely hadn't been taken over by werewolves when you knew for a fact it hadn't happened! But this...a lot of what was written in the paper seemed to be speculation at best. It was rumoured that Purcell was back in Britain. He had been sighted...maybe Sam was worrying prematurely.

But this latest news was worrying. Sam took a bite of his sandwich while he thought about it. "Extreme political views are always worrying, if only because they're so...extreme" he agreed "I've never understood why some people have a problem with equal rights. If you want to enjoy freedom for yourself, you have to allow it for others - and we all have to abide by certain laws to avoid anarchy" he said with a sigh. "But you're right. It feels like finally things are going right here, I'd hate for parts of Europe to end up fighting the same kind of battles that we have done."

Hearing the young wizard confessed his lack of knowledge, disappointed the well-aged witch. She believed any proper wizard, no matter their social background should make reading the Daily Prophet as part of their morning routine. Other then certain fanciful articles of horoscopes and fan letters which could be skimmed or skipped, every wizard should read it in full. It was in fact an adult wizards’ responsibility to be well informed of the social and political events of the whole wizarding world. Although Mr. Dickinson current deficiency could be overlooked, for it was just past noon and he might have saved the other part of the paper to entertain himself over his lunch. There was also a possibility that the one article of Purcell had disturbed him so much that he could not continue to read the surrounding articles. Taking in account of the state she had found him in, she thought this was the case.

Korrine took a bite of her sandwich and then sipped her tea as she listened to the young wizard as he shared his thoughts on the recently unveiled subject. Please that he at least expressed himself better than some of the figureheads she dealt with. When faced with a question to a topic they should be well informed in, most of them tend to jabber about their personal opinions, some unrelated issue or just regurgitate what was just whispered to them by their aid, all to cover their lack of knowledge. No, at least young Mr.Dickson had admitted his deficiency of the article and replied with an adequate, heartfelt but naive remark.

“I would agree. Peace is always preferable, but it could only be obtained by not only a balance of power and faction but a cohesiveness which only occurs when all the parties are working together towards the same goal.”  As she talked she gave a flick of her wand in the general direction of her house above the Ollivander's store front. Just as she finished her statement the door opened and a news paper which appeared to be reading inself walked out. It flipped a few pages as it made it's way to their table before folding itself up to a nice tiedy rectangle and placed itself between them. The witch gesture to the article in question as she stated, "It is only natural for the faction of Muggles to grow in sympathy and power after the events Britain suffered. This is rather obvious displayed by the Russian muggle party petitioning Wizengamot for 'a new platform of governance' assuming to allow their Muggle-born-Minister Krupin more power. One would hope that he had the whole of the Wizard community of Russian inmind, but the statement by the opposition seem so extreme I worry it may not be the case."

Korrine gave a sigh before continuing in a slightly lower tone as if she was confessing more intimate thoughts. "Then I couldn't help but to notice the paper just opposed this article with the one describing the Japan agreement with Sweden. At minimal, the article is a boast of an alliance and appears to be purely social growth and economical driven. But given the Swedish Ministers actions and willingness to host the non-muggleborn school, it seems the country's factions are swinging the opposing direction of Russia. I know, I know, it is all assumptions and feelings."

Korrine gave a dismissive wave as if she did not want to hear her companions reaction to this statement, but she actually did. She had hesitated to bring these perceptions up to Garrick for fear it might cause more worry or stress that which could potentially reverse his progressing recovery. Yet, she had not been able to shake the feeling that factions were brewing and felt the need to share them with someone. There was also a bit more insight that all of this was stemedform. Last summer, Korrine had a chance to meet, or more accurately TRY to meet the Swedish Minister Nils Nyström in regarding to her humanity efforts to rebuild the Village of Strudelburg. Unfortunately, the Minister proved exceptionally busy at the conference and to occupied by the Durmstrang end of term game to talk. Still watching the young Minister at the two events allowed Korrine to get a sense of his character and she felt more a passion for power from him, then of empathy. Still she was not in any case a diviner, but then was not she sitting across from one now?

"Maybe I am just reading to much into the articles. I am certainly not a diviner, but weren't you one Mr. Dickinson? Tell me, you don't by chance have any insight that could relieve my hopefully unfounded worries?"

If she had known the truth Mrs Ollivander would have been even more disappointed in her lunchtime companion. Sam hadn't simply failed to read the Prophet today or been too busy to get around to it yet. Rather, since leaving Hogwarts, he had actively avoided reading any but the most frivolous news out of fear that he might learn something upsetting. More students dying, or another disease, or a the renewed rise of the Death Eaters... but what was the sense in that, really? Wasn't it better to be informed and to know what might be coming instead of one snippet of bad news coming as a terrible shock when he did see it? As if she was reading his own thoughts, the older lady flicked her wand and summoned a copy of the newspaper.

What she read wasn't particularly enlightening or reasssuring, it seemed to Sam. One article suggesting that Russia was pro-muggleborn; and at the same time the knowledge that Sweden seemed to be leaning in precisely the opposite direction. The Seer really wasn't sure what to say; it was clear to him that Mrs Ollivander was much better versed in political matters than he was and he was hesitant to say too much. It was one thing to speak on a subject that he knew and understood well, but Sam had never been very good at discussing political matters. Not only that but having been teaching during the second war, he had learned that it was unwise to even have an opinion that differed from what was being indoctrinated. That time had passed, but he still found it difficult to know what to say.

Thankfully the learned witch saved him from trying to discuss something he wasn't certain about by moving the conversation into much more familiar territory. It wasn't something he was entirely comfortable discussing, because Sam didn't really enjoy being the centre of attention for something he had little control over. He was only grateful that he had managed to keep his abilities hidden from you-know-who's followers during that year, otherwise he doubted he would still be sitting here now, at least not with his mind still intact. “Yes, I am...but I'm afraid the Sight doesn't always work as reliably as I wish it did” he said, frowning slightly as he spoke.

“It does seem to me that there are different factions rising again. But this time instead of being all within Britain, its different countries that are developing different viewpoints. I could check my journals, but...” he realised he was getting ahead of himself. Sam didn't want to presume how much or little Mrs Ollivander knew about Seers, but unless she was close friends with one, he suspected she might assume, like many people, that he could decide to have a vision of something particular and it would happen. He took another drink of his coffee as he thought about how to explain.

“I can't control my visions, or even direct what I'm going to See. I can meditate, and relax my mind, and concentrate on a specific subject, all of which can make it more likely that I'll See something, but there's no guarantee. I have to be actually touching a divination tool in order for a vision to be triggered...” that in itself had proven embarrassing on more than one occasion when he'd had a vision whilst looking into his almost-empty teacup. One such vision had actually occurred in the presence of Minerva McGonagall, though that had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. At least the Hogwarts Headmistress no longer considered his subject to be entirely worthless. “But I can, as you say, attempt to divine what is likely to happen. I think...” he reached into a pocket and pulled out a well-worn pack of playing cards “...yes. Let's see...” slowly at first, he began to shuffle the cards.

Korrine knew it. She had converse with enough seers and diviners to understand that the future was not a wizard radio station that one just needed to be tuned into. She had once summed it up to a friend, Divining the future was   as mystical as the mists of Avalon, allusive as the fountain of youth and as temperamental as a Veela haired wand. Still she wanted to know something, anything that would put her concerns at ease. Her fears were a torrent of winds that were hidden behind her mask of sweet faced puffy pale clouds. She knew any moment the wizard world winds would change and pull her from her children and sweet morgana for bit,  her husband once again away from her. Yet she still had to smile, host tea parties and pretend she was not waiting for the wizarding world to at any moment, fall down around her again.

She calmly raised her tea to her lips and sipped the rapidly cooling chestnut colored liquid. She thought the way her nerves were around this topic of conversation, maybe she should have some forethought and asked Oli for something more herbal based. She listened to her dear friends Louise’s intelligent son state the same conclusions that she had. Yet there seemed hope. She put her cup down with mention of the journals, while leaving the finger sandwiches forgotten on her plate. “Is it a Journal of your predictions or visions? Oh how interesting.” She guessed, sitting somehow more erect than before.

Yet she chose to hold any additional questions and instead concentrated on absorbing his brief explanation of how his skill worked. “That is very intriguing.” She said before he offered to attempt to devein something on the spot. “Oh, I would normally graciously decline such a honor, but I can’t tell you how tied up in anxiety over these silly little articles I have been.” She rested her slender manicured fingers of her right hand  momentary on her chest, to will herself to calm as she watched him pull out his cards. “I do understand, Mr. Dickinson, that you might be able to discern nothing on the matter. I do appreciate it wholeheartedly that you are doing the honor of trying. I am hoping it would put this old witch heart at ease.”

She said the last statement with a smile. For certainly she did not consider herself old and she was sure that her friends son would acknowledge it. She had meant to pause and wait to give him a moment to interject. (Although flattery was not required, one should always make room in the conversation for it.) Yet when her eyes glanced down as she watched him shuffle the card, she noticed his hardly touched sandwich. “Oh, my dear.” Reaching out to touch his hand to hold their shuffle. “I have created one of the gravest faux pas a host could make. Asking for entertainment when your guest had yet finished their meal. Please Mr.Dickinson don’t let this witch worries keep you from enjoying your late lunch.”

She made a show of it by picking up one of her finger sandwiches and taking a bite. Yet she still kept an eye on the cards, worried if they will return to his pocket they might not reemerge and unlock any secrets of the future, and her a dreadful source of her of late anxiety might never be relieved.

Sam smiled back, recognising the leading comment and knowing exactly what to say in response. Just as he opened his mouth to speak however, Mrs Ollivander continued, seeming to have realised for the first time that he hadn't yet finished his lunch. Really, the Seer didn't mind. During his time at Hogwarts he'd regularly spent his lunchtimes not visiting the Great Hall but instead eating a sandwich or even just drinking a cup of tea while he spoke with students in his office or classroom, and the habit remained. "It's not a problem, really Mrs Ollivander" he assured her, though he did stop shuffling the cards and instead laid the pack face down in the centre of the table "and my father always said you're only as old as you feel, and he's still quite young enough to be working almost every day as well."

Nonetheless, Sam was glad to take a few minutes to finish the food, glad that he'd picked a cold sandwich today. His coffee had been in a magically-insulated cup so while it had cooled a little, was in fact now the perfect drinking temperature. As the lady picked up a finger sandwich of her own he was already more than halfway through his food; his mind on the cards just as much as his lunch and the situation in which he had now found himself. He wasn't used to reading in quite such a public place and felt slightly nervous; on the other hand, his mind wasn't entirely focussed so it was unlikely he was going to accidentally have a vision in the middle of Diagon Alley.

Sandwich finished, he drained most of the coffee cup, leaving just a couple of inches of the dark liquid at the bottom. Then he lifted the cards once again and shuffled once more. A woman of uncertain age paused momentarily in the middle of the street and seemed as if she wanted to stand and watch, but them shook her head and went on her way with a slight smile, apparently realising that it wasn't polite to stare. Sam had already been pondering the type of reading he would use; there were some that used just three cards; others that used twenty one or even twenty four cards and just about everything in between. Those readings also took something like an hour or more to interpret correctly and he needed to be back at his father's shop before then.

So he laid out seven cards face down in a horseshoe shape, facing Mrs Ollivander. "Alright, so in order, these cards represent the past, the present, the immediate future, unexpected circumstances, people, obstacles, and outcome" he said, pointing to each card in sequence "...forgive me if you know all this already" he added, sounded a little anxious. It had suddenly occurred to Sam that he had no idea what Mrs Ollivander's educational background was; she could quite easily have a NEWT in the subject and simply be rusty in its practice. He smiled, hoping that he hadn't already morphed into teacher mode, and turned over the first card.

"Okay, so the King of Spades. This generally represents an ambitious or over domineering man, so..." he swallowed, and looked up at the older lady with an uncomfortable gaze. It was obvious who the card represented, and he suspected Mrs Ollivander would dislike hearing the name just as much as he would hate saying it. It did at least prove that the reading was likely to reveal something relevant, however. He turned the next card. "the two of clubs..." his smile widened and became genuine. "The card of the gossip. This one represents disappointment as well as idle talk, and as it's in the 'present' position, I guess we know what this one is saying..."

He turned the next card, the three of hearts. "Okay, so the near future is warning of caution and against saying anything that might cause regret later" he rested his fingers on the card as he spoke "which is likely to mean..." his voice trailed off, the final few words slowing and becoming indistinct. His eyes glazed over and he became very still, unresponsive for almost a full minute.

Her honey brown eyes followed the stack of cards as the young man's hands placed them gingerly on the white painted wrought iron table. When the older witch glanced up, she greeted his complement with a relief filled smile. Not that it was due to the complement at all, instead it was more for the fact that the cards lie in wait. For they were a promise to a future she hoped would be without any dark blight. The brightness faded slightly as his words sinked in, her eyes grew a bit harder. "Well,” the elder witch started, trying to organize her thoughts it to something more politely inclined. "You are right... You are only as young as you feel... Some days I have to remind myself that I am not as young as my children." She tempted her good-humored entertaining smile before she added, "Being that your father, Basil is only a year younger than me and is nowhere near retirement age for any respectable wizard, it is good to hear that he is not slowing down. I am under the impression that slowing down is also what makes you old."

The lace necked dress witch gave a more genuine smile and paused to take a sip of tea and finish her finger sandwich. Taking a moment to dab at her lips with her laced edge Ollivander crest embroidered napkin, before she continued. "My dear Garrick for example... He has always kept busy. We are over a decade apart; I have you know." The proper witch leaned in and raised her eyebrows slightly for emphasis. "Yet you would have thought by the way he carries on, he was the younger one. Well that is until recently. If is was not for ...."

Her voice faltered while she touched her fingers to her lips, willing for them to halt. After taking a breath she made an excuse before redirecting the conversation, "Well, with it being such a nice day, one should never discuss such dark events. So... well let's hope that the cards agree? Shall we."

The elder witch gave a playful wink before noticing that the young Dickinson had finished with his sandwich and appeared nearly finished with his coffee. Being so, she was glad that he did not hesitate to take her hint and re-pick up his cards and go back to shuffling. He soon delt seven cards arrayed in an arc before her.  His explanation was similar to one of the many she have heard that diviners had given her. Most parties will have a diviner or two among and it is rare that they don't show off their skills if the party allows. So her eyes recognize the pattern. When he gesture the the side that held the future her eyes fell on them like the heavy stone that the  finger sandwich turned into in her stomach. She wondered what would be the worst card to be in that position. The Five of Hearts or the nine or ten of spades?

Only braking her gaze when his apologize sunk in. The witch gave a graceful dismissive wave and then another alluding she wish him to continue.  Then added to explain, "Oh well, I am familiar but please continue I don't want to interrupt."

Thankfully he did and she found the cards being revealed in a painfully slow procession. The King of Spades... she could only be thankful that it was in the past position. The two of clubs nearly always present at the parties she attends but knowing the meaning one could barely hope for less. Then the three of hearts was revealed, Korrine gave out a sigh of relief. In her experience it might allude to infidelity or indulgence. Certainly bad card with someone with questionable values or a notorious trouble keeping their wizard, but exactly how it related to the political future of wizardkind Korrine was at a loss.  She glanced up at the young man who gave a new or alternative meaning for the card... warning of caution and against saying anything that might cause regret later. She could not help but think of her recent near slip. She had always played the social and political fence well, as one was required to do while they attend fundraiser functions. Yet when it came to her family's health and how the war affect them all she found herself biting her tongue more often than not. She waited to hear how he would link this to the events to come. Was there a reason that a warning of caution came up?

Just as the young divining wizard was about to explain the meaning of the card something about his face changed. His normal tentative, friendly expression fell, and he was no longer focusing on herself or the cards. It took a second before true concern set in the silver streaked blond haired witch. "Mr.Dickinson?.." she started, then she realized just what this might be. He was a diviner after all. According to his mother, his skills go well beyond teatime card readings... no he had the true sight. "Oh dear..." Korrine said at barely audible whisper so not to disturb the young wizard out of his trance. She had only been at one moment like this long ago when she was young. Lucky for her, others acted as witnesses back then. She realized she might have to this time.