gravity

She wouldn’t spoil her arrival after everything she’d done to get to that blasted port key. 

Sucking in a tired breath, Petunia scrubbed her hand over her eyes before setting her stern gaze back onto the other woman.

"Where is Albus Dumbledore? Is he here?"

Tucking her wand into the pocket of her robes, Irina wrapped her arms around herself, waiting and listening - and more than anything else, wondering. Wondering how a Muggle had not only managed to find her way to Hogsmeade with no assistance, but also managed to know so much other information.

Closet full of clothes, “Fuck it all, I’ve nothing to wear,” 

Pantry full of food but not what you’re craving, “There’s nothing to eat,”

Maybe someone else would’ve taken the time to plan, but Digg never saw the point in that. After he heard the broadcast about Blackburn, he’d stamped his feet into his boots and apparated over. It doesn’t sound mighty interesting, not with only Walkers prowling around, but he wouldn’t say no to being one of the first to loot a fresh place of supplies. Knowing the Order lot, they’d be wasting time pairing up and making a mission out of the damn thing, and most anyone else, he figured, would at least be talking strategy.

As for Digg? He was touching down in Blackburn no more than a few minutes after WWN had gone back to static with his satchel equipped with an Undetectable Extension Charm. ‘Course, the place was mostly abandoned as he suspected, but it wasn’t long before he came across a small grocery, its door ripped off its hinges. Might have some perishables, he figured, and hopefully would have some toilet paper. Or booze. 

When he entered, he noticed someone, maybe around his age, in a far aisle and approached, wondering who would’ve beaten him here. Definitely someone he should say hello to, either way. As he got closer, though, something else caught his eye —

In the round security mirror above, another figure shown around the corner, approaching the stranger. Instinct told him it was a Walker, but he didn’t think to observe any longer before charging over. Like a moth to a flame. 

"On your right," he announced, grin in his voice, barely giving the person notice before shoving past them in the narrow aisle, wand extended. "Confringo!”

The Blasting Curse ignited the figure and much of the surrounding aisle immediately, the small explosion flaring up with a satisfying crack and a blinding light, and extinguishing itself soon after. Too easy — Digg always preferred them in groups. 

If it was even a Walker, anyway. No telling now. He turned around to regard his witness, their safety not having crossed his mind in the slightest. 

The broadcast of Blackpool's breach had been only been earlier in the day, the murmurs of the supplies that laid within the town continually growing. A faint whisper that was a constant reminder to pique her curiosity. Normally, when people happened to find supplies, all they managed to come back with was some canned food item and water, but this time it was more - sugar and salt, alcohol, cigarettes. As she continually noticed the bottles of alcohol in the storage room growing fewer and fewer with every passing day, no chance for them to be replenished any time soon, her mind was made up before she had even made her decision. It was slightly terrifying and strangely exhilarating all in the same breath, as she was never the best witch around, not by any means. But she had a business to run, and this was for the good of the business. 

Leaving Greta in charge of the pub for the night as she told her she had other things to attend to, Irina pulled her bag over her shoulder, adequately charmed to carry whatever she could find in Blackpool, her wand held tightly in her fist as she apparated away, slightly unsettled and completely out of her element.

The grocery store was the first thing she had seen, almost like it was a gift from the heavens. Apart from a small crack in the front window, it looked as if there was nothing wrong with it. Or so she should think. "Bombarda," she hissed softly, pointing her wand in her white knuckled grip at the door and watching it sail off the hinges. Moving quickly, before anyone else noticed her presence, she took a few steps into the store, trying to listen for any noticeably out of place sounds. As she heard nothing, though, she darted through the aisles, grabbing as many things as she could get her hands on and dropping them into the bag. If she wouldn't use it, it could go to the stash in Hogsmeade. 

So preoccupied with dropping the bottle of liquors that were left on the shelves into her satchel, completely unaware of her surroundings. It wasn't until she had heard the other voice that she startled, looking up and finding herself in the path of a Walker. Panic instantly set in, paralyzing her on her feet. Her hands were empty, her wand laying on the shelf a few feet away from when she had put it down. All she could do was stare and watch as she heard a sickening crack, leading to the Walker and much of the front of the aisle to be engulfed in flames. 

She moved quickly to grab her wand, before turning to look at who had more than likely just saved her life. A thought crossed her mind that she should thank him, but after seeing the expression on his face, she decided against it.

Petunia’s teeth nearly bit her tongue in two as they slammed together, eyes unwavering from the sign at the entrance to the village. Old words came to mind and her stomach knotted as they broke through her teeth at a hiss.

"This document hereby serves to state the aforementioned Third-year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is permitted to visit the village of H-H-Hogs—”

As a familiar crack sounded behind her, the woman was quick to un-holster the gun from her backpack, barrel aimed at the Wizard’s throat as the safety clicked back.

Or perhaps not.

She heard the click of the gun before she saw it raised to her throat. But still, she could notice the way it shook in the hands of the woman in front of her- if she could even be called that. Still, Irina slowly raised one of her hands in a show of innocence. "Won't be finding any monsters here, I'm afraid," she said softly and evenly. 

It won’t be the undead that kills me, oh no, it’ll be boredom. Is that petty?

Frankly, I don’t care if it’s petty or no. I must have read every book in Hogsmeade and Godric’s Hollow, I can’t exactly cook my boredom away because food supplies are important.

So, let me get this straight.