Griffin Scholarly
And the Seven Silver Boarhounds
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On a good day the dark alleyways of Knockturn Alley were less than inviting; On a bad day, they could turn away the most determined of brave wizards. Today, even though it was the middle of summer, the sky was a dark shade of grey and heavy drops of rain came down and plopped on the dusty cobblestones. The winds whistling through the tight lanes and rocking the squeaking shop signs from side to side were nearly at gale force.
A man shrouded heavily in black and purple robes walked against the wind, a hand shielding his face form the wind and rain. He coughed as the rising dust crept into his nostrils and he turned down a particularly small and dank alleyway.
He came out into a small cul-de-sac on the other side, four or five shops at most crowding into each other and looking as though they too were trying to shield themselves against the foul weather. Although each building looked terrifically old, the paint peeling on their rotting doors, their stone walls dirty and crumbling, they each held a definite sense of regality. The ground here was cobblestone too, but it was a lighter shade of grey and looked as though it could have once been white, or perhaps cream. A marble fountain of a snake stood in the centre of the court, towering fearsomely with a weak stream of slimy green water trickling from its gaping mouth; looking disturbingly like venom.
The man stalked up the stairs to the middle building. A rusty hinged, black sign hung from above the door, a green snake painted on it spitting silver stars, but there was no name. The tall and ornately trimmed entrance had no door knob, but a silver keyhole was situated at the top of the door. He reached out a spindly hand from his robes and whipped out his wand from his deep pockets. He pointed the wand tip at the keyhole and mutter "Alohomoras Potens."
The door swung open slowly with a creak like an old man huffily not wanting to be rushed. The man whipped his wand back into his pocket and muttering stepped into the darkness inside.
And the Seven Silver Boarhounds
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
On a good day the dark alleyways of Knockturn Alley were less than inviting; On a bad day, they could turn away the most determined of brave wizards. Today, even though it was the middle of summer, the sky was a dark shade of grey and heavy drops of rain came down and plopped on the dusty cobblestones. The winds whistling through the tight lanes and rocking the squeaking shop signs from side to side were nearly at gale force.
A man shrouded heavily in black and purple robes walked against the wind, a hand shielding his face form the wind and rain. He coughed as the rising dust crept into his nostrils and he turned down a particularly small and dank alleyway.
He came out into a small cul-de-sac on the other side, four or five shops at most crowding into each other and looking as though they too were trying to shield themselves against the foul weather. Although each building looked terrifically old, the paint peeling on their rotting doors, their stone walls dirty and crumbling, they each held a definite sense of regality. The ground here was cobblestone too, but it was a lighter shade of grey and looked as though it could have once been white, or perhaps cream. A marble fountain of a snake stood in the centre of the court, towering fearsomely with a weak stream of slimy green water trickling from its gaping mouth; looking disturbingly like venom.
The man stalked up the stairs to the middle building. A rusty hinged, black sign hung from above the door, a green snake painted on it spitting silver stars, but there was no name. The tall and ornately trimmed entrance had no door knob, but a silver keyhole was situated at the top of the door. He reached out a spindly hand from his robes and whipped out his wand from his deep pockets. He pointed the wand tip at the keyhole and mutter "Alohomoras Potens."
The door swung open slowly with a creak like an old man huffily not wanting to be rushed. The man whipped his wand back into his pocket and muttering stepped into the darkness inside.