17 March 1895 - St Paddy's Festival, Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop

Idris wasn't entirely sure she believed in luck, but she did enjoy trying out now things. She needed a new quill and had plans to buy one anyway, but the draw of pulling a random one to see what it might do was enthralling. Maybe she'd get the one that wrote in gold ink. The one she pulled was ordinary enough looking, sleek and well balanced, at least until she tried to write with it on the spare parchment the shop had set out to test out the quill's luck.

It wasn't completely obvious what the jinx was, although not even a dot formed when Idris pressed the nib against the paper. The moment she set it down, the quill jerked away from her grasp. Idris sighed and reached for it again to tuck it away, but this time it skittered across the parchment like it had somewhere else it needed to be entirely.

The quill darted left. Then right off the edge of the edge of the counter. She caught it midair, only for it to wriggle free, flipping end over end before landing gracefully on the nearest shelf as if it had planned the escape all along. She grit her teeth at the fact that she couldn't catch this stupid quill. It shook itself, as if mocking her.

Just as Idris leapt to grab it again, the shop bell jingled to signal a new customer was walking in. The quill sprang to life once more just as the person entered, but instead of aiming for another shelf, it veered itself toward the newcomer, its silver nib was aimed directly at the poor soul's upper lip. A mustache. It wanted to draw a mustache.

Idris’s eyes widened. "Oh!" It was all she could say, knowing she wasn't going to be quick enough to stop it.

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MJ made me something beautiful<3

Old Mr Tucker would be retiring soon from the Hogsmeade office, he was a good man who had served his father and subsequently Harrison admirably over the years so Harrison thought it was a good idea to spend a few galleons on a personal gift. The man enjoyed his correspondence, so what better than a nice hand-picked quill of exceptional quality to send him on his way.

The gentleman pushed open the door only to be ambushed, but not by a person, as was typically the fashion, no, he was being ambushed by a quill that had apparently had a magical jinx set upon it.

A young lady, the original bearer of his surprise he assumed, only watched on with shock as the quill made quick work of his upper lip and drew on a moustache that would make the mostly moustache-twiddling comedy villain envious. Thick black lines led from his philtrum right across his cheek to end in a luscious curl. Harrison froze in confusion as it worked before it finished, bowed and lay on a nearby table.

He looked at the young lady, not sure whether to be cross or to burst with laughter. "Excuse me, Miss, is this yours?" he glanced at the quill that lay on the nearby desk basking in its own self-satisfaction. His face was evidently shifting towards the more amused end of a potential response.

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Idris Oakby (Gus Lissington)