The Westhaven family was a stickler for rules and manners and all things decidedly not fun, well, at least not fun to an eleven year old boy on his birthday.  There was, however, one rule put in place by his Aunt Isalena that he simply adored her for.  The rule was this, every year on his birthday, Emrys was allowed a day of freedom.  No rules, no manners, no suits or wizarding robes, just him in what he liked to wear best, and his favorite Aunt.

Emrys lived for these days.  He was tired of all the tutors, the instructions in manners, dancing, etc. that his parents thought he should have just because he was the heir to the family.  He hated it.  He missed the late night stories from his grandfather. That was so much more fun than sitting in the parlor getting talked at by a tutor that only was there because his parents had money. 

So, this morning, Emrys woke excitedly and rushed through his morning routine.  He didn't dare wear muggle clothes around his family, so he kept a dressing gown on, rolling his eyes as he put it on and went downstairs for breakfast.  As per his parents rules, there was no talking at breakfast.  But as he finished and was headed back to his room to get dressed, he heard his mother wish him a happy day. His father said nothing, simply shook out the pages of the Daily Prophet he was reading.

Emrys rolled his eyes and raced to his room, too excited for the day to start to hear his mother's tone admonishing him for running up the stairs.  He quickly got dressed and went back downstairs to wait for his favorite relative ever.  Isalena Westhaven was nothing like the rest of her family.  She was outspoken, never dressed appropriately (according to everyone in the family), and rarely did anything she was told.  And today was no exception. 

She showed up not ten minutes after Emrys entered the study where the floo was connected and ruffled her nephew's hair like she always did, "Ready squirt?" she asked him.  A blinding grin and nod later and they were off to Diagon Alley. 

Three hours later, a tired pair sat at a table outside of the ice cream parlor  and relaxed.  They'd been to Muggle London first and after about two hours running all over the place, buying anything Emrys desired, they entered the Magical section of London and set off for their first stop which was the bookstore.  After buying four or five books, they hit the joke shop and for the heck of it, stopped into the Yelling Compass where Emrys found a china teapot that would yell obscenities in different languages if you left it on the heat too long. 

He bought it with a grin knowing his mother would absolutely hate it.

Resting at the table at Fortescue's, Emrys was still grinning, "Thanks Aunt Izzy."

The 15th of August—and, subsequently, the 1st of September—could not possibly come fast enough to suit Nicky. Her older sister Rory had gone off to attend her first term at Hogwarts late last year, and it was only upon her absence that Nicky realized just how much she relied upon Rory for entertainment! The constant sisterly bickering (only devolving into out-and-out shouting matches every now and then) livened up her days; without Rory to antagonize, Nicky was bored.

Louis was her only other source of amusement, now. She loved her younger brother without reservation, but there was an emotional bond than ran deeper than words with Rory...

... all the same, Nicky and Louis got along much more amicably, in practice. Where her relationship with her sister was fiery, explosive, and bothersome to every adult that knew them, she was much sweeter to Louis. Why, she had even helped him write a lovely note for their dearest elder sister just a few months ago... oof. Flying a howler off to Rory at school had earned her quite a talking to from her grandparents (Louis was, of course, blameless; Arthur and Molly Weasley had raised enough children to recognize the mastermind of a plot) and her parents. Her uncles George and Ron, however, had laughed themselves into a stomach ache when she told them—they could appreciate a good joke, even if it had meant borrowing grandpa's wand while he napped.

Rory had been livid on her return in early April, during Hogwarts' Easter holiday. She had forgiven Nicky within days, however, and the girls made up so that they could fight about more topical subjects, like whose socks were whose, and whose turn it was to do this or that chore, or... well, anything, really.

Unfortunately, Nicky wouldn't see Rory 'til the end of term in early June, and so Louis was her only source of companionship—at least in her own age range—for the next week or two.

It was with her younger brother that Nicky sat in front of Fortescue's ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley, each trying to decide what they wanted to do for the rest of the day. Their father had brought them to the city for a day out, but had abruptly been called in to work at Gringott's. He swept away from them with assurances that he would return as quickly as he could, and now the siblings were left to their own devices. Nicky wanted to visit a few shops and see what they might buy with the tiny allowance they had been bequeathed by their parents; Louis wanted to visit Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which was bound to be staffed by somebody that they knew, even if Ron and George were away.

"You just want to flirt with that pretty blonde girl they hired last month, Louis," Nicky teased.

"I do not!" her brother responded, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Despite only being eight, Louis was already a charmer and a lady's man, getting on rather well with girls and reveling in their attention. Their father had already remarked on more than one occasion that he'd be a 'lady killer' when he grew up—an observation that seemed to frustrated both their mother and grandmother, for reasons that Nicky could not discern.

"Who's that?" Louis asked, inclining his head towards the boy seated a few tables over with an older woman. "Do you know him?"

"No," Nicky replied quietly, glancing briefly at Emrys. "I don't know everybody, Louis."

Without warning, Louis—perhaps preferring that, were Emrys able to overhear them, he could not understand them (and laboring under the assumption that the boy wasn't bilingual!)—switched to French, chattering at Nicky both quietly and rapid-fire, his mastery of the language questionable:

"Ne pensez-vous pas qu’il est votre âge? Peut-être qu’il sera à Hogwarts l’année prochaine, trop!"

Nicky rolled her eyes.

"Je vous ai tout dit, je ne sais pas. Arrêter de poser," she answered.

Catching Emrys' eye, she raised her hand and offered a lazy finger-roll in lieu of a proper wave. Flashing him a smile, she called out:

"Hi!"

The frock swished smartly— a little ominously— as its owner pressed a dauntless path into the cobbles with bejeweled Mary Janes. Brisingamen Lyons-St. James looked perfectly at ease in tulle, despite the resting frown. The bubblegum ensemble that might have itched at the arms, pinched at the chest, tickled at the knees of another child only seemed to embolden an already far-too-confident girl. And something else gum-like— mostly the fear one might step in its sticky trap— flourished in her wake.

Her mother had combed back a loose curl of Bridie’s hair, kissed her cheek, and stowed a cardigan under her arm before ushering her from the shop where they’d Floo’ed into the Alley. She’d made Bridie promise that she would go straight to the book shop. The promise had been honeyed by the fistful of coins Freyja had carelessly pressed into her daughter’s hand, money to spend during her scholarly stalking. Her mother’s golden encouragement and clear instructions were hardly a barrier to any alternative plans, but they both already knew it. It had never stopped Freyja from giving Bridie free, unsupervised reign and too much spending money.

Bridie disappeared around a corner, content to make a path that lead more or less to the book shop. She spared only a cursory glance behind her to make sure her mother was not on her tail.

The cheery windows of the ice-cream parlour were nearly mirrors, they’d been so thoroughly cleaned and drenched in light. They reflected the sway of the cotton floss dress opaquely, like the shadows of shark swimming near the surface.

The shark swam toward the shop doors, before pausing just outside of them.

The day's occasion was immediately presumable— those telltale stacks of boxes and the look of satisfaction on Emyrs’ face. Some rite of passage or foreign holiday, probably the former. Had he got his letter? They were nearly the same age, she knew. Their mothers ran in similar circles, and if Bridie had never properly befriended him, she had still been expected to say hello. Bridie appraised him for signs of improvement with age, and quickly decided there were none. Her eyes floated to the redhead and smaller boy— obviously her brother— who were chattering in French nearby.

She approached Emrys as his aunt busied herself with something else. Bridie ran a finger leisurely across one of the neatly arranged packages, wondering after its contents. “So you’re eleven now?” She asked, though it was less of a question, more a demand that he demonstrate as much. “Have you bought a wand?” She peaked over the edge of the shopping back.

Her attention moved to the siblings again. She snapped her hand away from Emrys’ shopping. “Are these your friends?” She asked, cocking her head just barely to the side as she studied them. The redhead looked about her age, more casually dressed, and put charge of the younger one... probably by some adult who, like Bridie’s mother, had trotted off to run errands. "I’m Bridie Lyons-St. James.” She extended a hand as she’d been taught, but it was not especially warm. It was, however, unwaveringly confident.

 “We should get in queue for sundaes before it gets too long.” Bridie hated queues. Her eyes flounced to the shop, scoping out what lay beyond the window. She stood taller and with some gesture that beckoned the three of them. The assumption that they were suddenly a group who would feast together was not subtle.

Some aspects of business were interesting enough to capture the attention of an eleven-year-old, especially those that directly involved the subjects of that business: the fabrics, knick knacks and ingredients that filled shipping crates.  As her mother and father oversaw the delivery of a merchant’s wares, Elaine loved to fawn over the contents of the shipping crates as they unpacked and inspected.  Especially those spools of brightly patterned Japanese silks; she could just picture herself in some fine summer witch’s robes skillfully crafted from each of those patterns. 

When the conversation turned to numbers, weights and other matters of proper business, Elaine’s interest quickly waned.  Luckily, Enid Bellamy had recognized the signs of restlessness in her daughter and had slipped a few gold galleons into the long fingers of Missy, one of the family’s house elves.  Under Missy's careful watch, Elaine went out to explore Diagon Alley.
 
Girl and elf had already stopped by the bookstore and the quidditch supplies shop by the time Elaine spotted the cluster of children outside the ice cream store.  Conversation and ice cream.  Was there a more appealing situation?  The house elf had, likewise, already noticed what was bound to catch Elaine's attention.  Before the girl could even ask, the elf began tallying up what remained of their spending money.

"There's more than enough for a treat, Little Miss.  So long as it won't spoil your supper." Missy pipped up, large bright eyes looking up at the eleven year old.

"Wonderful!  I'd love some lemon ice!"  Her cornflower blue silk dress rippled and red curls bounced as Elaine trotted over to the group by the tables, reaching the ensemble just as the other girl asked about the boy's age.  With the other girl's back to her, Elaine hadn't initially recognized Bridie but the voice was enough to identify her as a familiar acquaintance.  They'd frequently crossed paths at the occasional social event and Elaine loved to invite the other girl over for tea whenever the opportunity arose. 

"Ms. Bridie!"  With a bright grin, drew up next to the group and leaned in to give Bridie a small kiss on the cheek in greeting.  Elaine did love to be continental; the French could be so charming with their greetings!  She then turned to greet the others in the group properly.  "My name's Elaine," she offered to the other children, turning to the second young girl and leaning in to offer her a kiss on the cheek before extending a dainty had to the boy. 

"Are you all starting Hogwarts in the fall, too?"  Elaine asked.  "Won't that be lovely?"

Emrys was minding his own business, enjoying a very rare treat with his aunt who only visited so often when he heard or rather saw the red-headed girl say hi.  He waved at her, not knowing her, but maybe he could make a few friends before he started Hogwarts.  Then he saw her... that girl his mother was always trying to get him to befriend... Bridie or something.  He couldn't stand her.  He liked kids of his own age that were more into either reading or his latest fascination... soccer.

His mother's tuition in manners made him say something.  "Good afternoon Ms. St. James" and then he became a regular boy, "What are you doing talking to me?" His aunt kicked him under the table, for even though she was the odd one out in her family, she wasn't going to sit by and let her nephew be rude to a young lady.  "Forgive his manners, he's a boy." she told the girl.

Emrys rolled his eyes and rubbed his leg where his aunt had kicked him.  He nodded to Elaine who had just joined them... she was another one of those girly girls. As he steadfastly ignored the hand she held out to him, he said, "Ms. Elaine." he greeted with slightly more manners than he had Bridie. Then he told Bridie, "I'm not here for a sundae, or even to have a party.  It's just me and my aunt and you have ruined it.  Now if you don't mind, I see a friendly face over there that I would much rather talk to than you."  He began to walk towards the red-headed girl and he assumed her brother. He did turn around though and give a look to the two girls,  "Good day Ms. St. James, Ms. Elaine."

He walked over to where the girl and her brother were, "Hello, mind if I join you for a moment? I'm feeling rather crowded over there."

“My mother says boys shouldn’t be given a pass just because they’re boys,” Bridie pointed out dryly, eyes heavily lidded despite the eye roll in her words. She flat out ignored Emrys’ barb. Mostly because his aunt was in her way. She would get him back for it at a more opportune time. “Even if girls are superior.” Her voice rose an octave with the addendum, relishing the thought, and, for a moment, she sounded far more like an 11-year-old girl. Boys were useless, on the whole.

Hex him for using his aunt like a Shield Charm.

But then the call of her name provided an appropriate distraction. She turned toward the saccharine greeting, lips pressing together into a conservative smile when she spotted the red hair— so unlike the other girls’— and the familiar dressings. As Elaine pressed a kiss to her cheek, Bridie’s mouth transformed again, this time into a proper, friendly expression. “Elaine,” she whispered loudly, collusion tickling her throat. Bridie’s hands fastened themselves to the girl’s befitting light blue sleeves. Hattie glanced her over, but mostly locked eyes. The possibilities for stealing a corner table and murmuring clandestinely revived themselves.

Elaine Bellamy was more her speed than this sticky lot, anyway.

Her eyes flashed dangerously at Emrys as his niceties became accusations. “If you feel your ice-cream has been ruined, maybe you picked the wrong flavor. That’s pretty difficult to mess up, even for you,” she congratulated, her eyes continuing burn jinxes in his direction.

“Emrys will be in our class,” Bridie explained dismissively, the word unfortunately hanging in the air, almost visible. The aunt prevented it from being vocalized. The St. James girl stepped back, shoes clacking their disapproval as he moved past them, her hand clasping Elaine’s upper arm somewhat possessively. “And then with the remedial Trolls, if Christmas holidays are good to us," she added loudly, turning head from his aunt so as not face any adult reproach.

"You’ll be in Slytherin, too, won’t you?” She added, turning her questions and gaze on Elaine this time.