𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍 ⦊ 𝘩. 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 ✓ {editing}

― i. wheezes distraction

Back inside, the store clerk looked out the window and sighed at the dark gloomy atmosphere that now suspended over Diagon Alley. Glancing down at the old watch that hung loosely around her wrist, she read that it was already half-past six.

"Miss Black?"

Edelyn winced. Forcing a curl to her lips, she turned her head to see a witch a few years older than her with a pixie cut standing to her left.

"Yes, Verity?"

"I wanted to ask if you could — um — you see, Mr Weasley asked me to stock up on supplies, but there are so many shelves and so many different products, and I'm fairly new, and—"

"You want me to do that while you take the register?"

Verity smiled sheepishly. "If that's okay?"

"Yes, of course. I was growing bored here, anyways."

"Oh, thank you, Miss—"

Edelyn hastily shook her head. "Verity, please, just call me Lyn."

Verity nodded and Edelyn moved around her toward the back of the store. Picking up a box labelled « Fanged Frisbees », she headed her way up the stairs to the second floor, not at all surprised when she found the shelf she was searching for completely empty.

She had spent the past fortnight of her summer holidays working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She was there from nine in the morning to ten at night every single day, leaving the store only to sleep, which she did at the Burrow in Fred and George's old room.

The joke shop served as the perfect distraction. It kept her busy and her mind astray from her own disconsolate thoughts, and it acted as the perfect excuse to be away from the Burrow. Though she was grateful for Mr and Mrs Weasley taking her in — the Order believing it safer for her to stay there than at the Diggories —, she could not bear the pitying looks from Mr Weasley or the smothering hugs from Mrs Weasley, and though Ron was her best mate, she didn't fancy spending time with him either. He was constantly looking at her with eyes etched in worry, a worry that wasn't unjustified, but a worry that made Edelyn's mind drift back to that dreaded night at the Ministry of Magic. For that, she could not stand him.

The twins were her safe haven.

But Fred and George Weasley were themselves starting to grow worried. Day after day, they noticed how thin and frail her figure had become and how her gunmetal blue eyes, once sparkling with mischief, were now empty and void. They also couldn't, for the life of them, get a genuine smile out of her, let alone a laugh.

And Godric did they miss her laugh.

"Why don't we just let her sleep here tonight?" George suggested at three minutes to ten as he and Fred entered their living room. Edelyn was snuggled under a blanket on their sofa, her knees hugged to her chest and head rested against the sofa arm. Beside her laid a quill and some parchment — she had been undoubtedly scribbling ideas for new products when she dozed off. 

Fred shook his head. "Have you gone mad? Mum would bloody murder us!"

George sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

Mrs Weasley had, reluctantly, allowed Edelyn to work at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes under two strict conditions: (1) Edelyn remains inside the shop at all times, and (2) Fred and George bring her back to the Burrow by ten each night. These conditions were not only set by Mrs Weasley but by Professor Dumbledore as well, for Edelyn's powers had been revealed during the battle at the Ministry in June and the girl was now a potential target.

Crouching down in front of her, Fred gave her arm a gentle shake.

She groaned.

"Come on, Lynster, we need to get you back to the Burrow."