December 31st, 1894 — Diagon Alley, New Year, New You

She had been to London before—once to attend the Ministry of Magic, and to acquire school supplies as a child. Gwyn Conway had never had an opportunity to have fun in the city, though, and even though she sometimes found even Hogsmeade overwhelming, in comparison to the Glen, she was practically vibrating with excitement at the opportunity. The young dragonkeeper had always been the sort to wear her emotions on her sleeves—and express them quite readily—which, in this instance, meant she was no doubt particularly obnoxious.

"...know we're here on buisness," the witch retorted as she and Howell stepped through the entry to Diagon Alley, "but after. Really, Howell, you could do with lightening up."

This was about as likely as dragons teaching potions at Hogwarts, but Gwyn nonetheless believed her...not quite father figure, but perhaps cranky uncle figure would be much happier if he sought and expressed joy more than once a quarter.

— Howell Howell —

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   Howell Howell

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— WELCOME TO AVALON GLEN - Here Be Dragons —
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“I don’t like London,” Howell retorted, with a hmph. He liked being out of the Glen little enough when he came alone, but Gwyn tagging along made London somehow more unbearable than usual. Perhaps because he had to be doubly anxious – once for himself, and doubly in case she would go tearing off getting into trouble and probably end up stabbed and bleeding out in a gutter somewhere. She had no sense of danger. “And I’ll thank you not to give me advice.”

Or he would give her some in return. Namely that she would be clever to keep her mouth shut and stop getting on his nerves, else she could skip off home to the Glen right now.

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"Don't like London?!" she gasped in mock horror, elbowing him good-naturedly. Gwyn knew, of course, that Howell had his limits, but had long since learned how to dance right up to the edge of them before scurrying away cackling. "Do the folks at Witch Weekly know your dark secret? I should think—oh!" the young dragonkeeper stopped in her tracks, momentarily distracted from her ribbing of the gruff wizard. "What's that?"

The little stall seemed like an island in the hustle and bustle of the street, altogether nondescript save for the word CHANGES bannered above it.

— Howell Howell —

  

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— WELCOME TO AVALON GLEN - Here Be Dragons —
mj is an artiste ♡

Damned little heathen. He had been ready to open his mouth at that Witch Weekly comment, because if any of those Weekly Witches so much as knew of his existence Howell would wither away on the spot – but of course Conway could not be kept on-track for more than half a second, anywhere.

“There’s nothing there. You’re seeing things,” he deadpanned, rather wishing that was true. Because whatever that stall was, it looked like it was best avoided. All the look of it did was raise questions – and everyone knew how Howell felt about questions.

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