Post by Max Kameren on Jul 31, 2017 21:07:52 GMT -5
The sun had been down for hours. Nearly every business in Diagon Alley was closed, sending its patrons out into the night hours before Max was off work. On weekdays between two and five in the morning, only the pubs remained open for the truly desperate. It was the perfect storm of emptiness for Max: the only time he could freely walk the Alley.
At the end of these fortuitous late-night shifts, Max had a ritual. He would walk up and down the Alley, just wandering to see what's changed since he was last able to walk it pain-free. Then he would stop for one drink with the oft-bored bartender at the Leaky Cauldron, before exiting through to the Muggle World and heading home. It was a small, secret indulgence he did for himself, even after his most dog-tired late shifts. He'd been doing it long enough that the late-night bartender at the Cauldron recognized him as another of his insomniac regulars, and left a stool open for him.
This morning was no different, and Max's ritual had gone no differently. He sat quietly, tiredly sipping a scotch at empty bar, enjoying the quiet, idle chatter of the old bartender Carl's radio. It was relaxing, being in a public place and only feeling his own aura and the familiar Carl's. If he didn't look at the hour, it felt normal.
"What, Max?" Carl raised an eyebrow at Max as he preemptively cringed, a second before the door opened and an unfamiliar aura joined them and shattered his quiet.
At the end of these fortuitous late-night shifts, Max had a ritual. He would walk up and down the Alley, just wandering to see what's changed since he was last able to walk it pain-free. Then he would stop for one drink with the oft-bored bartender at the Leaky Cauldron, before exiting through to the Muggle World and heading home. It was a small, secret indulgence he did for himself, even after his most dog-tired late shifts. He'd been doing it long enough that the late-night bartender at the Cauldron recognized him as another of his insomniac regulars, and left a stool open for him.
This morning was no different, and Max's ritual had gone no differently. He sat quietly, tiredly sipping a scotch at empty bar, enjoying the quiet, idle chatter of the old bartender Carl's radio. It was relaxing, being in a public place and only feeling his own aura and the familiar Carl's. If he didn't look at the hour, it felt normal.
"What, Max?" Carl raised an eyebrow at Max as he preemptively cringed, a second before the door opened and an unfamiliar aura joined them and shattered his quiet.