One Night

Nothing had changed.

The skies were still dark, the brooding clouds laden with a light drizzle which had begun to spit over the roofs of Diagon Alley. The shops had closed up for the evening, the little plaques in the windows turned round so the dark calligraphy of ‘closed’ stared out onto the cobbled street, informing those who passed, their necks retreating into the turned up collars of their coats, that trade had ceased for the day. It was through the thinning throng of people that still lingered, packing up the wares that had spilled out onto the streets in vibrant colours that Ariel Greyback walked, his hands digging in tightly into the thin coat that hung from his shoulders. Around in his head, a thousand thoughts were coursing as he wondered after the changes that had adjusted the equilibrium of Diagon Alley, of his home, beneath the façade.

Too much had changed.

The ramshackle building that housed what was now an ancient pub had splintered and spat off much of the wood and slate that still clung desperately to its form and after a succession of cruel evenings with the wind and the rain refusing to abate, much of the debris was littered in pieces before the establishment. A few people had set about picking up the mess and tidying their patch of cobblestone as best they could and it was through them that Ariel strode, pushing open the door that took him into the warmth of the ale house. The smell of crushed peanuts, dusty pipes and thick larger invaded his senses immediately and despite himself, Ariel found a smile rising to his lips.

It hadn’t changed.

Settling himself down on the bar, Ariel ran his hands over the beaten mahogany, awaiting the arrival of the barkeep who, hands busily cleaning glasses, grunted out his demand for an order. Ariel’s lips quirked into another smirk as he ordered a glass of Firewhisky and soon enough the familiar burn was crawling down his throat, warming his chest and numbing his thoughts which had hindered him thus far. His destination was more than a handful of miles out of the capital and it was to his friend that he knew he would eventually turn but he was determined to enjoy one evening of nothingness. One evening of himself. Just for tonight.

He hadn’t changed.

Snow... snow... and more snow with a light drizzle was all Sophia seen as she walked through the crowd street of Diagon Alley. Nothing changed over the years, the buildings were still the same with the same cheery witches and wizards selling things from potions to robes. Walking through the street Sophia passed through the crowd of people who were getting some last minute shopping done before all the shops closed for the day. With her hands in her coat, Sophia trailed along the path looking at the shops before she stopped and looked out the Leaky Cauldron. It still had that old ruskist run down look making her smile.

Walking into the dim lit pub, the smell of liquor and peanuts hit her nose making her smile even more. The place still looked the same, a bar in the middle of the place with round tables with witches and wizards smoking pipes and talking about their day or what's going on in the world today. Walking to the bar, Sophia sat down as she waited for the bartender to grunt and ask what she wanted. "A firewhiskey if you will please."said Sophia. As he set the firewhiskey in front of her, Sophia threw some money on the counter. "Keep the rest as a tip."said Sophia.

Taking a drink of the hot liquid, Sophia felt it burn her throat making every numbing her thoughts and worries. Sophia was not much of drinker, but there was nothing like a good firewhiskey to calm your nerves. Plus after the second drink, it didn't even phase Sophia seeing how she drunk it so many times. Taking a another drink of her firewhiskey Sophia looked down at the beaten bar as a smirk came to herself, she had alot of good times at this bar and quite a few bad ones as well, but it was all in the pass. Ah... those were the good ole' days before life went crazy.