Noelle strolled along the streets of Merlin with only one destination in mind. It was the very same shop that she visited on nearly every trip into the wizarding hub of France, although one would easily be fooled by her appearance. She was not dressed like your average Quidditch player, of course, the sixteen year old could not exactly wear her practice clothing out in civilized society; sweatpants and tank tops were best kept on the field...and out of the closet where her mother could come across them. On more than one occasion Noelle had returned to her room only to find that her mother had not only rifled through her belongings, but had thrown away a several Quidditch items that the women deemed unfitting for a girl of her status. It was no secret that Francis and Renee Sol did not approve of their youngest daughter’s interest in the sport, but her father never went so far as destroy her personal belongings. Her mother’s destruction had subsided substantially after Noelle’s continued participation on the team....and her connections with someone the most powerful purebloods that graced the Gaston team. The matriarch of the Sol family may not approved of her daughter’s hobby of choice, but she certainly would not dare speak ill of a sport many of her friend’s children played.

Thankfully, her father was considerably more amiable to girl’s desire to play a sport originally intended for men, though, Noelle was certain that it was due to the fact that she had managed to rub elbows with the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports right after she had been given a spot on the team. From that point on, the blonde had used that to her advantage and her father was willing to support her little “hobby”....for now, at least. And as usual, that came in the form of a substantial allowance that practically burned a hole in the pocket of her blazer as she made her way to Quidditch Forever. It was hardly the most prestigious place to purchase decent Quidditch equipment, but it would certainly serve as a means to an end. Nearly every item that Noelle used on the Quidditch pitch was custom made and personally ordered from the finest craftsmen money could possibly buy. After all, if she was going to disobey her parents, she certainly needed to do it with a little bit of style. From her broomstick to her tailored gloves everything had been made to fit her form and frame; enhancing her skills and molding her into perfection.

With her head held high, Noelle sauntered through the door to the sounds of chimes tinkling from up above her. She looked about curiously, her eyes settling on the patrons of the shop: a small, wizened man that did not look like he could get his leg over a broomstick, a narrow nosed, rat face woman with a her beady black eyes glued to a flashy picture book, and a vaguely familiar boy that Noelle was certain she had seen at one time or another. Seeing no one of value, the blonde pushed her way further into the shop, brushing heavily against a boy at the Irish rack as she made her way by. “Excusez-moi! Some of us would like to get to the teams that actually matter,” Noelle shot at him with a tone of irritation accompanying the scathing glare she sent toward him.

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