Outfit
Sat. Sept. 6th  |  4:00PM



Liadán Ó Móráin had not made it to Diagon Alley the night before after her visit to Knockturn. As such, after she took care of business earlier in the morning and had lunch, she apparated to Diagon Alley to finish up her shopping. First she visited her favorite clothing and accessory stores, purchasing a few pairs of shoes and two handbags. Then she dropped in on one of her business associates, chatting for a while and talking business before finding her way to Obscurus Books.

A bell tinkled over head as she carefully stepped over the threshold, doing her best not to bang her bangs on the door frame. She inhaled deeply after the door shut behind her, and smiled. Liadán loved the smell of books and of old paper. Bookstores held some of the best secrets in the world if you just knew where to look.

Liadán was on a particular mission at Obscurus today. She had been perusing a book in the family library that had made quick mention of the process of shrinking heads. She had always found the magical practices of different cultures fascinating, and the practices of African tribes was particularly interesting. Unfortunately the book she had at home had very scant information, and the information it did have did not seem to be very reliable. It was a shame, really. She shook her head in disappointment as she considered how many were probably misinformed by the information held in the volume she had at home.

She sought a clerk, and cleared her throat quietly in order to gain his attention. "Excuse me, sir," she spoke in a quiet, demure voice. "I was wondering if you could possibly help me? I am in search of a book on the magical practices in African tribes. I have not had much luck in locating something, and I certainly hope that you can help me." She gave a timid smile, before lowering her gaze. Sometimes it helped to play the part of an innocent young girl, it meant that clerks often would not question the reasons behind why she was looking for such information. It was better to not have to answer to questions that others asked, especially considering the reasons why she was interested- and that was to increase her knowledge of dark magic, and Liadán knew that the African tribes practiced quite a bit of dark magic.

Saturdays usually flew by in Obscurus, but today seemed to be an exception.  Business came and went and customers bought and browsed.  Zavier was keeping busy with rearranging some of the stock, fitting as many books as he could onto each individual shelf - within chronological reason, of course.  He hated having to rearrange his stock to make everything fit onto its designated shelf, especially at the expense of tweaking the actual chronology.           

One book in particular - a large leather-bound auto-biography - was putting up quite the fight.  Zavier strained to get it to fit on the top-most shelf in the third aisle, but unfortunately, there was no room for it.

He huffed out a sigh and struggled to at least wedge it into the offered opening.  Dissatisfied, he threw the book back into the cart and wheeled it back toward the counter.

"Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if you could possibly help me? I am in search of a book on the magical practices in African tribes. I have not had much luck in locating something, and I certainly hope that you can help me."
   
Zavier started.  He hadn’t heard the bell above the front door chime, so the suddenness of the young woman’s presence caught him slightly off guard.  He came to after a moment and nodded at her request.

“We should have a couple of titles related to African tribes and magic,” he said, beckoning to her.  “My guess is that they’d be in the History section, but I’m not entirely positive.  Let’s go look.”

Liadán found it a bit odd when he turned about. She always found it odd, she supposed, to see adults his age working in shops. The woman was fairly certain he did not own it, and anyone who was a clerk in such a place must either be hurting for money, or incredibly bored. Liadán knew that she would never bother herself with a part time job if she had been nothing more than a socialite, there were much better ways to occupy one's time. Then again, she also tended to forget that not everybody was born into the lap of luxury and capable of living the rest of their lives without ever having to lift a finger.

"I do very much appreciate your help, sir," she said with another smile as she followed him through the book store. History section? Liadán was looking for something a bit more practical, not just the blandness of a time line and basic information. Then again, she supposed it wouldn't be easy to find written accounts of how to do some of the things that they did. Not many ventured to study the tribes, she supposed, and even fewer were probably given all the information that they wanted and were able to write it down afterward.

"I have had a very difficult time finding anything. It doesn't seem to be a very popular subject. There are innumerable volumes about Ancient Egypt and magic, and even of the Druids and Celts, but it seems not very many are interested in the African connection to magic. Oh, there are some books on hoodoo and voodoo- but that is not exactly what I am looking for." Although voodoo did have some connection to head shrinking and zombie making. Still, the truth of voodoo was a bit too dark to be browsing for casually in so public a place.

Reaching up, Liadán began to carefully twist the pendant of her necklace as she watched the man peer through the titles on the shelves. "I suppose if I don't find anything here, I'll have to abandon the search and find something else to read about." She sighed heavily, obviously disappointed. It was a genuine disappointment, too. Liadán did not want to abandon her research on African magic. And she desperately wanted to find a more detailed description about the process of shrinking heads.

“It’s no trouble,” he said.  “Business as per usual today.  No afternoon rush like we have during the week.”

He tapped his timepiece and chuckled.  “Of course, days like today tend to drag by slowly.”

Leading her into the History aisle, Zavier trailed his fingers along a select few of the spines, reading each title he touched silently.  Unfamiliar with African magic and culture, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure if they were carrying exactly what this woman was after.  

Still, it didn’t hurt to look.
  
“I’ll admit, my knowledge of Ancient Africa is rather limited,” he said, pulling a black hardcover book off of the middle shelf.  It was thick; over five hundred pages, presumably.  He handed it to her.

“Looks like you’re in luck,” he tapped the cover. “The Occult of Ancient Egyptian Magic.  Why don’t you try that?”

Liadán frowned slightly when he handed her a book on Ancient Egyptian magic. Egypt was in Africa, yes, but she wanted more on tribes, not on the civilized Egyptian world. She smiled politely, and shelved the book from where he had pulled it. “No, that’s not quite what I want. Ancient Egyptian magic is very different from tribal magics.”

She peered at the titles, and smiled lightly as she pulled a smaller volume from the shelves titled The Magical Theories and Practices of Vodun. “This is more along the lines of what I was looking for.” Liadán hoped that he would not realize that Vodun was the basis of Voodoo. Vodun was specific to the Western coast of Africa, and held more truth to it than Voodoo did. Haitian voodoo and the voodoo which was practiced in the Americas was much different- much more sensationalized and less truthful, as many who were not magical claimed to be able to make magic happen from it.

Liadán flipped through the book, noting different passages that would definitely be of great interest once she got home and could peruse it better. “Yes, this is just what I was looking for! Although there doesn’t seem to be…” she trailed off for a moment, clutching the book to her chest and then tilting her face up to him. Even in her heels she barely breached five feet tall, and the man was a good foot taller than her.

“I do hope you don’t find this to be off putting, but I was actually looking for specific information on the practice of shrinking heads. It was mentioned casually in one of my books at home, but I have not found any further mention of it elsewhere in any books I have on African tribes. This one here doesn’t seem to have it, though it does have other things I have also been looking for information on. Do you happen to know anything of it?”

“Well, perhaps we have something else that will suit your interests.”

He put the book away and scanned the shelves.  Titles of all authors and sizes crowded this particular section, presumably because there was a heap of literature relating to ancient - and present - Wizarding culture.  There wasn’t a single fictitious piece to be seen on those shelves - those types of books had their own section.

“Ah, voodoo,” he said, nodding.  “I remember a unit in my Defense the Dark Arts class that was based around that practice.

“Of course, we never preformed such evil magic ourselves,” he added with a hearty chuckle.

“I do hope you don’t find this to be off putting, but I was actually looking for specific information on the practice of shrinking heads. It was mentioned casually in one of my books at home, but I have not found any further mention of it elsewhere in any books I have on African tribes. This one here doesn’t seem to have it, though it does have other things I have also been looking for information on. Do you happen to know anything of it?”

Shrinking heads... he was silent for a moment, before suddenly, the thought came to him.

“Ah!  I do remember the art of shrinking heads having originated in the Amazon... vaguely, but... yes!  Here...”

After a few minutes of scouring the shelves again, he pulled another book down and handed it to her.

“Try that.”

"Oh?" she asked. "We never learned much of anything practical while I was in school studying Defense. It was all very boring- centering around magical creatures, and the occasional countercurse to save ourselves in a tight spot. I suppose they were afraid to teach us anything useful, for fear we might use the things they taught us to defend ourselves against." Liadán shook her head and sighed. “Pointless class, really, now that I look back on it.”

“Well, I don’t intend to perform the magic either,” Liadán lied convincingly. “I just find it fascinating, that’s all. Plus, I was thinking of visiting Africa and I would like to know what I am getting myself into. We are thinking of importing some creatures from Africa to breed on the farm. Some African creatures contain rare potions ingredients, and if people did not have to import the ingredient it would save them money while giving me profit.”

The young woman was good at lying by this point, she had made it a constant part of her life since she was a child. She had no intentions of visiting Africa, or of importing any creatures- the only useful ones were illegal to breed by the Ministry’s standards. Still, he might know that. It’s not like everyone a person ran into was an expert on magical creatures.

“The Amazon? Oh! Yes, that’s right! The book I was reading was discussing how many people confuse it for an African practice, and explained that it originated in South America. That explains my confusion. How unintelligent I must have sounded! Going on about it being an African practice all day.” She clucked her tongue, scolding herself. “I must learn to retain information better.”

She took the book that he handed her, and inspected the cover. It was very old, and the golden letters imprinted across the front were nearly faded entirely. Liadán brought it close to her face, squinting. It was titled Amazonia: The Jivaroan Peoples of Ecuador and Peru. Flipping open the book, she peered at the table of contents, and nearly squeaked in joy at noticing a chapter that focused entirely on the practice of head shrinking.

“Oh, this is exactly what I have been looking for! Thank you very much Mr…” She trailed off, realizing she had no clue what his name was. Generally Liadán saw no reason to find out the names of those who were clerks- (except for those who sold and fitted her clothes, being friends with them could beget huge discounts) but Liadán was glad for this man’s help and his knowledge on the subject which had helped her to locate two very useful books for her research.

“Really?” he smiled, able to recall some of the more hands-off lessons.  “Well, I suppose so... I personally enjoyed learning new counter-curses.  I agree, though – there should have been less focus on that bloody textbook.  The class was much more interesting when we were allowed to use our wands.”

He beckoned to her.  “Come on, I’ll ring you up.”

Taking his usual spot behind the counter, Zavier busied himself with finding the cost of the book while she spoke.  Her lie was convincing, for he considered her answer to be laced with innocence.  The art of shrinking heads was fairly uncommon in modern times, but it was still researched for academic purposes.

"That's intriguing, I must say.  I've never been there - you must come back after your visit and tell me all about it!

"And don't worry - it's quite a common misconception.  The ancient Amazonians shared similar traits and traditions with the Africans.  It's easy to confuse the two."

The register pinged suddenly and a total appeared.

“That will be... five sickles and two knuts.”

Smiling, he offered a hand.  “Zavier’s just fine.”   

“I imagine you had much more hands on experience than we did. I just graduated a few years ago, and the class I’m sure has changed quite a bit since you graduated.” Liadán knew she was assuming his age, but she also knew that he had to be at least a decade older than she was. “I’ve considered, if I ever have children, moving so that they won’t go to that place. I don’t find it very conducive to teach the sorts of things that I expect my children to learn and understand.” The place was far too soft, and muggle loving, two things that Liadán’s children could never be.

She smiled, and nodded, not really agreeing to return. The man had been a kind clerk, and was obviously at least marginally intelligent had he been capable of correcting her facts. Plus, it would be difficult to return and tell a story of something that had never happened.

Before he gave her total, Liadán began to pull a few coins out of her bag. She was surprised at how inexpensive it was, expecting the books to cost much, much more. Books that were difficult to find generally did end up costing more. Liadán quickly changed out the money she had extracted, handing it the clerk with a smile.

Liadán took his hand gently in hers, giving it a slight squeeze before releasing it. “It is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Zavier. I’m Liadán Ó Móráin.” It was her habit when introducing herself to give her last name, generally to watch people either realize exactly who she was, or be clueless. The clueless ones were generally written off as unimportant and useless to her.

“I’m sure it has,” he said, and added with a smirk, “but now I feel old! 

“I don’t think that Hogwarts is necessarily a bad school – I quite enjoyed it.  And, don’t forget, it is considered one of the best Wizarding schools in the world.  After all, you might have had a not-so-capital experience there, but who’s to say that your children wouldn’t?”

He paused.  Then, he added, “I’m not trying to say that you wouldn’t be a good mother – quite the contrary.  All I’m saying is to perhaps give it a little more forethought.  Hogwarts really is paramountly August – which isn’t something you’d expect to hear from a Pureblood, I suppose.  But, that’s my opinion.  Take it for what you will.”

At the mention of her name, he preformed a brief double-take.  He’d heard that name before, but blast it all, where?

“Ó Móráin?” he repeated, at odds with himself.  Where had he heard that name before!?  “Forgive my curiosity, but I must ask – what is it you do for a living?"

Liadán looked properly apologetic as she placed a dainty hand to her mouth. "Oh, I am sincerely sorry Zavier! I didn't intend to make you feel old. I certainly hope you are not offended?" she inquired, arching a brow. "I could never forgive myself if I have gone about and insulted you, even if it is entirely by accident."

She listened carefully when he... critiqued her point of view, in a way that came so close to offending her, she was surprised to discover as he finished his speech, that she was not angry. "It has nothing to do with my experiences, I just don't believe the environment is going to improve by the time my children are old enough to attend. Some of us are still very old fashioned, and I hope to raise my children as I was raised. That is difficult to do in such an environment." Hogwarts was far too progressive, too muggle loving and too concerned with coddling to teach anything of use. Liadán's children would not be muggle lovers.

Then the conversation turned, as he repeated her last name. "I run the family business," she responded. "Ó Móráin Farms. My father, Cáel, left it to me after he passed. We specialize in breeding magical creatures to use for potions ingredients. We supply many shops in wizarding cities all over Europe. It has been in the family for generations upon generations." Liadán intentionally left out the fact that he likely had heard of it due to the criminal investigations that had taken place roughly ten years ago. It had been all over the paper for quite some time. But Liadán was slowly changing the reputation of the business.

"Since I took over we have made great improvements. I was surprised to discover I had such a head for business. You know how it is, I'm sure. Most pureblooded young ladies are raised to be wives and mothers, not to work. I rather enjoy it myself. It keeps me busy, and my nose out of trouble. I have no desire to be in tabloids surrounded by scandal like many heiresses my age tend to be. A person's reputation is exceedingly important, and I work very hard to maintain a spotless one."

Zavier dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m only forty-three after all!” 

He had a hard time determining if there was sarcasm in the way she presented her apology.  The way she pointedly covered her mouth was suspicious, but even if she wasn’t being entirely sincere, did it truly matter any?

“Forgive me,” he said with a solemn look on his face.  “I was merely curious.  Of course, you are welcome to raise them how you see fit.”

She told him of her career, and where he’d most likely heard her name before.  He nodded.

“I’m glad things are going well for you so far.  It’s always important to obtain a job doing what you love.”

He waved gestured around the room.  “This isn’t the most glamorous job I’ve had, but I rather enjoy it.  I love to read – always have.  It’s just organizing and re-organizing the stock that can become a pain sometimes.” 

"Forty-three?" she repeated. "Certainly not!" He did look to be in his late thirties or early forties, but it wasn't as though a person went around telling others things like that. It was more polite to act as though it was not at all true! Still, he was old enough to be her father. So her experience at Hogwarts had to have been a totally different one.

Not the most glamorous of jobs? Liadán chuckled quietly. "Oh, glamor has nothing to do with it," Liadán stated matter-of-factly. "I promise there is nothing glamorous about dissecting creatures to sell their body parts. Besides, I think book shops hold a certain charm to them that all other places do not. A great number of people use book stores a place to relax and escape. You sell people knowledge, which is certainly a very noble endeavor. When I was in school, I always looked forward to visiting the book shop in Hogsmeade during our weekends there. I'm always looking for something to pad our library with."

Liadán did genuinely love books, and did believe every word she uttered. Books were very important, and she found that his job was likely more of a civic service than her own. Then again, she wasn't in it to do good- she wanted to make money. Plus, with her family gone, who else was to run things? She certainly couldn't allow anything to go to her treacherous brother, now could she?

"Is there not any sort of spell that could re-organize the stacks easier?" she asked. "I would assume that there is. Granted, I very rarely worry with such things..." She waved a dismissive hand with a slight smile. No, of course not. She had servants to bother with such things, and various assistants. It was a shame she had not inherited a house elf, though. Still, Liadán did not clean up after herself, so she wasn't entirely sure if there was a spell for it or not. But in her experience there was a spell for everything...

"Oh- and before I forget, I don't suppose that there is any way you could let me know if you happen to get any books in that are related to tribal magic practices? Not necessarily just African tribes, but in general? I find that it's extremely interesting, and it's my current... project, I suppose. I like to research certain subjects until I grow bored of them and move on to a new one." What a wonderful cover up! It sounded great, and the young woman stored the explanation away. No one ever need know she was really interested in learning more about obscure and dark practices. It would seem an innocent hobby and nothing more!

“Certainly.  I know for a fact I don’t look younger than thirty-five, though.”

Zavier chortled.  It was true – luckily, he wasn’t showing any obvious signs of aging.  He grimaced.  Knock on wood.  He could just imagine it.  Waking up in the morning, and wallah!  A gray hair.  Or hairs.  He shuddered.  That was every middle-aged adult’s worst fear, wasn’t it?

He considered her statement, tapping the side of his chin thoughtfully.

“I suppose so.  I’ve worked here for a while – I suppose that’s why everything seems so... normal now.

“Charm?  Perhaps.  I’ve been at Obscurus so long, I guess I no longer see it as such.  To me, it’s just... work.  Regardless, I still enjoy working here.”

He smiled.  “Ah, yes!  I quite agree; Hogsmeade does have some nice bookstores.  Have you ever been to Bristle’s Books?  They have a kindly selection fictitious titles.”

He produced his wand and flicked it at a pile of seemingly forgotten leather-bounds.  They rose into the air as if suspended by invisible wires, and moments later, settled into their designated slot on the shelf.  He turned back to Liadán and chuckled.

“Of course I do.  I’ll send you an owl if we get receive other books like that.”

He pulled a pen out of his pocket and uncapped it.

“Is there an address I can reach you at?” he asked, unphased by her seemingly innocent desire to ‘research’ the less-than-holy ancient tribes.  Little did he know of her true intentions with those books...

"I don't believe I have. Since I graduated Hogwarts I haven't visited Hogsmeade except on business. We sell quite a bit to the apothecary there. Students tend to go through things rather quickly, as do professors it seems. I admit, though, that fiction books have never really caught my interest. I've certainly tried to read them, but I just never find them as interesting as historical volumes."

The reason that she generally disliked fiction was because she could rarely connect to it. Romantic themes, bravado, the good guy always winning- it all seemed so incredibly fake. Liadán was a complete stranger to any sort of warm and fuzzy emotion. It was difficult, after all, to fan the nonexistant flames of her heart. Rarely did she feel anything apart from contempt, indifference, or anger. The few things that did make her happy were things that no human could inspire in her. (Or so she thought. She supposed that one day things like that might change.)

Liadán took the pen from his hand, and flipped over the receipt from her purchase. She carefully printed:
      Attn: Liadán Ó Móráin
      Ó Móráin Farms
      County Waterford, Ireland

"If one of my assistants gets a hold of it, they should send it directly to me if you mark it to my attention. I am very thankful that you would go out of your way to do such a thing for me." If he actually did send her an owl sometime, notifying her of a particularly interesting volume, she would do something to repay the favor. Liadán had learned quite some time ago that it was best to keep those happy who did you favors- however trivial they may seem. It fostered a sense of loyalty in most. At the very least they would think twice before doing anything that might come back to haunt her in the end.

"It certainly has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she told him. "However, I really must be going. I'm afraid I've spent too long alright. I have some business matters to attend to before I can return home for the evening. I will drop in my next visit, and let you know how the books were, and tell you of Africa if I have visited by then." She recapped his pen, and then handed it back to him, leaving the recept on the table. "I hope you have a pleasant evening, Zavier. Perhaps since it is getting late, you won't have too many wayward customers coming in, re-organizing the shelves." Liadán gave him a soft, friendly smile before exiting Obscurus, excited to get home and peruse the books she had just purchased.