The eleven year old practically danced into the shop. Because wands. The only thing stopping her was the fact that her cat was using her as transportation and she didn't feel like provoking the Wrath Of The Beast today.
Immediately upon entering the shop's threshold, Freya's ginger monstrosity (a term of endearment, she swears) jumped off her shoulder and onto her father's retreating one. Well, more like her father's head. And face. There may have been some blood, but that would remain a mystery until she caught up with him later.
She was alone. At last.
Not for long, however, as she hadn't so much as taken a good look at the place before an enchanted tape measure was getting all up in her business. She waved it away from her face, but otherwise the thing was pretty rad. She wondered if it had ever strangled an intruder.
"Hello," she waved to the shop-person.
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