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.