Vincent Crabbe leaned lazily against the decaying brick wall of Borgin and Burkes, counting down the minutes until Mr. Burke shooed him away from the shop. It had been a long five years since he lost his best friend, Gregory, in the war and he was worse for wear. Knockturn Alley, once the seediest spot in London, had been undergoing 'restoration' ever since that filthy mudblood Granger was elected Minister for Magic.
A man with a dark hood draped over his head paced by, twitching and muttering to himself. Vincent's eyes followed the man as he circled back in the alley, walking by him once again. Vincent reached for his wand when the man walked by once again. As his stubby fingers wrapped around the hilt of his wand the man stopped suddenly.
"I'm–uh–looking for a fellow named Felix. Have you seen him?" The man asked Vincent with an unreasonably broad grin. His eyes, golden yellow and shining bright, were darting to and fro, never actually resting on Vincent's face. Vincent's grip tightened around his wand. He recognized dependency when he saw it and he refused to sell anything to someone so close to losing it.
"Sorry chap, if you're looking for some luck you need to follow the rainbow." He dismissed him casually despite his growing sense of unease. He was well acquainted with the overconfidence and recklessness that accompanied wizards with a Liquid Luck addiction that far along.
"You are the Leprechaun, aren't you? Man, I'm just looking for a small horseshoe, nothing that serious!" The man asked him in an accusatory tone. His loud voice echoed down the alley and caused Vincent to grind his jaw. The last thing he needed was a horde from the Department of Intoxicating Substances searching his place again.
"Mate, you better move along or your luck will run out tonight." He quietly told the man through clenched teeth.
He reached in his pockets causing Vincent to pull his wand out entirely. "You're going to turn down a paying customer?" The man asked as galleons clattered on the cobblestone.
"People like you are bad for business, mate. Paying or not. Move along." He hissed.
Before the man could retaliate, ancient Mr. Burke, with a scowl and bad attitude, stepped out of his shop with a jingle of the doorbell.
"You again." Mr. Burke's voice dripped with disdain at the sight of Vincent.
"You don't own the street." Vincent growled. Today was not his lucky day.
"I don't, but if you don't get out of here I'll ring up a few of them law enforcers you're trying to dodge. I'm sure they'd love to have a chat with you." Mr. Burke threatened, narrowing his eyes so tightly they were indistinguishable from his vast wrinkles.
Vincent kicked off from the wall with a roll of his eyes.
"Fine. You win. Only the nutters are out today anyway." Vincent grumbled pushing by the man and casting one last glance at Mr. Burke.
"Hey, man, I'm–uh–looking for a fellow named Felix. Have you seen him?" Vincent faintly heard the man ask Mr. Burke.
"Oh, piss off, you burnout." Mr. Burke spat at the man.
"What'd you say to me?" The man asked, voice echoing throughout the alley. Knowing what was coming, Vincent almost stopped to turn back and help Mr. Burke. Almost.
"I said piss off, you burnout." Mr. Burke repeated in a tone usually reserved to explain a complicated task to a toddler. Vincent braced himself for the impact. Sure enough, the sound of bone slamming against brick resonated and Mr. Burke cried out in pain.
"You little–" Mr. Burke gasped. "Expulso!"
The man blasted backwards into the decaying brick wall and Vincent turned to the next alley, whistling to himself.