RP: Twelve boxes, fifteen viles and one chuckling wizard.
Date: 09 August 1998
Time of Day: 5:50 PM
Characters: George Weasley, Verity Thruston
Location: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley
Status: Semi-Public/DND
Brief Summary: Supplies arrive and all hell breaks loose.
Complete
Levitation had never been particularly difficult for any witch or wizard that wasn’t a squib. Yet, even what George was currently levitating, meandering lazily through Diagon Alley with monthly supplies freshly purchased and floating in mid-air was both an accomplishment and a sight to see.
There were brown-packaged parcels of every shape and size ranging from boxes that could sit on your fingertip to crates large enough to store several younger siblings. Circular orbs and at least one long, thin, oddly wrapped thing hovered along side clinking glass bottles and test tubes. George had even purchased a new cauldron to replace the one most recently burnt through by a batch of Hogwarts Hormones. Several canisters of paint topped off the pile with a handful of brushes and two wooden planks. The sea of purchases took up nearly the same space as a medium-sized elephant and there were certainly enough belongings to make the already jam-packed store decidedly more crowded than before.
When George reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, it was an enjoying challenge trying to fit everything through the front door and into the back of the shop without knocking out any display cases. In the end, George floated the objects one by one in through his workshop window and piled everything neatly in the middle of the room. There was nowhere else for it, or even him, now trapped in the back corner of the room, to go. Suddenly, expanding into Hogsmeade seemed like the most brilliant idea George had ever conceived.
“Verity!” George singsonged from his workshop as he tried to maneuver himself to the door that lead into the floor room. “My Beauty. My Dear. My Saving Grace! I think I need a little help back here-!”
And though George could have played it off as emphasis on his need, by the time the crashing, clatter-bang following his cries for help brought Verity rushing in to make sure he wasn’t dead, George was half buried in the pile of supples crying tears of laugher.
Time of Day: 5:50 PM
Characters: George Weasley, Verity Thruston
Location: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley
Status: Semi-Public/DND
Brief Summary: Supplies arrive and all hell breaks loose.
Complete
Levitation had never been particularly difficult for any witch or wizard that wasn’t a squib. Yet, even what George was currently levitating, meandering lazily through Diagon Alley with monthly supplies freshly purchased and floating in mid-air was both an accomplishment and a sight to see.
There were brown-packaged parcels of every shape and size ranging from boxes that could sit on your fingertip to crates large enough to store several younger siblings. Circular orbs and at least one long, thin, oddly wrapped thing hovered along side clinking glass bottles and test tubes. George had even purchased a new cauldron to replace the one most recently burnt through by a batch of Hogwarts Hormones. Several canisters of paint topped off the pile with a handful of brushes and two wooden planks. The sea of purchases took up nearly the same space as a medium-sized elephant and there were certainly enough belongings to make the already jam-packed store decidedly more crowded than before.
When George reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, it was an enjoying challenge trying to fit everything through the front door and into the back of the shop without knocking out any display cases. In the end, George floated the objects one by one in through his workshop window and piled everything neatly in the middle of the room. There was nowhere else for it, or even him, now trapped in the back corner of the room, to go. Suddenly, expanding into Hogsmeade seemed like the most brilliant idea George had ever conceived.
“Verity!” George singsonged from his workshop as he tried to maneuver himself to the door that lead into the floor room. “My Beauty. My Dear. My Saving Grace! I think I need a little help back here-!”
And though George could have played it off as emphasis on his need, by the time the crashing, clatter-bang following his cries for help brought Verity rushing in to make sure he wasn’t dead, George was half buried in the pile of supples crying tears of laugher.