A Dementor's Kiss - Phan

Talons' Tattoos

The walk to Hogsmeade was not enjoyable, despite the buzzing atmosphere caused by the arrival of the tattoo parlour. Dan wrapped his (pink) scarf around as much of his face as he could, but the exposed part soon felt raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once, Dan wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, but he, like everyone else, was too keen to see the new shop to turn back. He wondered if a wizarding tattoo parlour would look like the muggle ones; bathed in dingy light and filled with the whir of needles from a back room somewhere.

Come to think of it, what did they use for wizarding tattoos? Were they traditional tattoos – with ink and needles – that had charms placed upon them, or was the whole thing done with spellwork? Would it hurt? Dan had only ever seen the outside of the tattoo parlour in Diagon Alley, and he hadn't given it a second's thought due to how normal to him the shop looked in comparison to all the other businesses in the Alley.

"Does anyone actually know where it is?" Chris yelled, his voice barely audible above the howling wind.

"Nope," PJ replied, squinting almost blindly in Chris's general direction. "I was thinking we'd just, you know, follow everyone else."

"Yeah, good point. Ben wants us to meet him at Zonko's, so it can't be too far from there."

"Hey, there's the old apothecary two doors down from Zonko's. It's been boarded up for years, I bet it's that one." Phil said, and PJ nodded in agreement.

"I never went in there." He mused.

"Well, that's why it went out of business then. I used to go in there a lot when I was trying to invent a spell for watering my plants automatically whenever they needed it."

"Hey Phil, I just realised. You're actually pretty smart. Why weren't you in Ravenclaw?" PJ grinned.

"He's certainly crazy enough." Chris quipped.

"That's not even an insult." PJ pouted. "Ravenclaws are thinkers. We're creative, and we're always lost in the clouds of our own little worlds. That's Phil in a nutshell."

Phil shook his head with a smile. They were drawing closer to the centre of the village now, and the small cottages seemed to be sheltering them at least a little from the wind. "I'm very happy right where I am, thanks." He said. "Here's the question: how the hell did Mr Salazar Slytherin, the original blood purity fanatic, let in a muggleborn?"

Dan's cheeks, already pink with cold, flushed red. It was a question that had been asked of him pretty much incessantly since the day he was sorted. "I'm not the only one ever," he mumbled. "It's just really rare. I've researched it. Obviously. 'Cos people go on about it so much. The hat puts your choices above everything else, so sometimes muggleborns get in. Because it's the choices and actions we take that define us, favourite colour and ice-cream flavour of preference are a bit irrelevant."

"So did you choose Slytherin?" Phil asked, curious.

"No; at least I don't think so, but I knew nothing about any of the houses before I arrived. I knew nothing about anything. My head was exploding when I was getting sorted. Maybe I was looking at the Slytherin banners and thinking they were pretty just as the hat got put on or something. I don't know. I mean, I don't mind, if it wasn't for the blood thing I wouldn't think twice about it. Slytherin suits me. It just doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, that is kind of weird." Phil considered. "Kind of awful for you too, because if anyone is going to be a nob about blood status then they're probably going to be in Slytherin, as that was Sally's big thing."

"Word of advice, Phil," Dan cringed. "If you're at all attached to the way your face looks right now, don't refer to Slytherin as 'Sally' next time you're visiting me in the Slytherin quarters."