2nd August, 1888 — Borgin & Burkes, London
Kristoffer Lestrange
Kristoffer Lestrange
What the fuck was she supposed to do with this?
The letter in her hand contained the usual books list – longer this year than ever before thanks to OWLs – a reminder to parents that the first day of term would occur on the same damned day it always did, and a small metal badge that sat in the palm of her hand. The sheer unlikeliness of its arrival was staggering and Trixie had forced herself to forget it even existed before today. Girls like her didn’t get to prefects: she had been sure it would be the wolf-lover and she would spend a term miserably avoiding getting punished for no reason.
The bell above the shop door drew her out of her reverie and she looked up from her late letter (late because her brother had lost it rather than the Head of House sending her letter via senile owl) only to find a most unexpected, but welcome, face. Generally speaking their customers were of a certain kind and that kind almost always had a degree of grubbiness that matched the shop perfectly, but to see Mr Kristoffer Lestrange strolling into the shop, looking like a cocky Adonis made flesh, one would have thought Borgin and Burkes was a suite at the bloody Sanditon!
“It seems I’ll be joining your lot soon enough,” she said by way of a greeting, holding up the prefect badge that was the navy twin of the one she had seen attached to his chest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all? They had their own bathrooms and excuses to be out after hours… “Shame I won’t be able to send certain people to the stocks for the whole of term,” she added with a roll of her eyes that turned into an ingratiating smirk, nodding towards a pile of wood in the corner of the shop. “Ours make you reveal all your secrets.”