Rain was pouring in buckets from the steely grey sky. It seemed to Anna, as she raced down the partly flooded street with a copy of Les Sorcier Nouvelles over her head, that the heavens chose quite a time to weep all over her. Icy rain dribbled down the neck of her dress robes and soaked the hem. A car sped by, bathing her in mud and a few choice words concerning her abnormal fashion. Stupid Muggle, she thought, and hurried on her way. Since she'd had her Apparating license revoked last month for a particularly painful splinching (it wasn't her fault, really. She was totally stressed and late for work!), she had had to walk to and from work every day. Now, as twilight descended upon her, she reflected angrily that the French Ministry would not let her connect her apartment to the Floo Network. Her best robes, ruined! All because she had to retake that stupid course like a seventeen year old kid.
She rushed up to the front entrance of her apartment building and punched in the code to open the doors, all the while wishing she didn't have to have a Muggle landlord.
"Costume party, Mademoiselle Potter?" asked the desk clerk as she dripped in, trying to hide her sodden newspaper in her robes to prevent him from seeing the moving pictures. She gave him a nasty look and hurried past, feet squelching on the linoleum tiles.
When at last the elevator arrived at her floor (after stopping at what seemed like every floor along the way), she was on the home stretch. She gleefully exited the small box full of staring Muggle eyes and made her way to her door—only to be stopped by a burst of smoke and then total darkness.
It couldn't possibly be that the power had gone out; there were windows scattered around. Anyway, there was a generator or two, and backup lights. Anna drew her wand, hesitated, and then, throwing caution to the wind, whispered "Lumos."
It didn't work.