Ronan lit up at seeing Alina smile, it always made her smile, ever since the day she was born. Her mind went back wee little feetsies, wee little hands, wee little nose. She got that look in her eye that quite simply said one thing, 'proud mother,' and why shouldn't she be? Most wee bits didn't make it to their first birthday, and those who did rarely made it to age eleven. She stook a breath, still a long road ahead, or a short one.
Her grey stormy hues widened when the girl mentioned quidditch, "Lass has workin in the factory with me taught ye nothin of how dangerous that sport--" Her voice trailed off as she saw her daughters own eyes filled with hope. She stared at her for a long moment before sighing, "We'll see how ye grades are, and then we'll jump that hurdle." Maybe, if they were lucky Mister Pettigrew could give her a discount on a broom, luckly no brooms were allowed for first years.
She picked up an old telescope with a cracked lense. "Ye talkin bout repairo." Ronan knew it well, as it was a required spell from her Maggie days. "Word of caution lass, the spell only works on broken muggle items, not magical items, which is why ye should ask yeself, why this has not already been repaired."
A voice boomed from behind them, "Because that belonged to Claudious Albenhiemer, a wizard of great notoriety within the noble field of Astrology!" The man was hunched over to where he appeared half the size of Ronan and nearly the size of Alina. He had wobbly knees, and was kept upright with a cane. His beard went all the way to the floor and dragged down the long hallway. "5 galleons."
Ronan shot the old coot a glare, "Do ye wish to make any money in this store boyo?" She asked flatly. The old man gave it some thought, "I meant 5 knuts." Ronan nodded. "And the gloves?" The man responded, "Mmmm, one sickle a pair?" Ronan shot him down, "Try again."