Crystalline

Rauthr Mystic

Murder Alley

Just being in the parking lot across from the dark alley and ramshackle pub was oppressive. The alley seemed to exude darkness and danger. The building had boarded up windows that were cracked and shattered in places. There was graffiti all across the face of the building making it difficult to tell where things should be. Hung on the door was a simple sign that said "closed for renovations". She knew that from her trip here with her family when she was younger.

A fortifying breath and she stepped out of her pristine white Mercedes A-class Hatchback. It was a solid family car and a statement about their affluence. Vernon took pride that his wife never had to use public transport (and that he never had to be inconvenienced by not having his own car). From the hatch she grabbed the nappy bag left by her sister. As expected, the bag was bigger on the inside than it should be. Searching through the space, she finally found the baby wrap. Surprisingly it was a simple grey colour. That made her feel less conspicuous. Taking the sleeping child from the car seat that she had kept in hopes of a brother or sister for Dudley. It was bitter sweet using it for young Harry.

The wrapping process took a few minutes to get the child secured on her chest. The weight was comforting. Also she knew she needed skin contact with someone magical to get into the wizards domain. She carefully put the strap of the bag over her shoulder, after putting her own purse in, and locked the car. Slowly she turned and faced the dilapidated building. The Alley next do the building was as ominous as ever. The building itself though had changed. Gone were the boarded up windows and graffiti. Instead was a pubface that would have fit in nicely in the 1600's. It was well cared for, though it could certainly use a clean and a nice layer of paint or fresh plaster. That was just the outside.

Walking towards the door she heard a voice behind her call out, "Lady, you don't want to be goin' into murder alley!" Put off slightly by the unexpected interaction, she turned slightly.

"Pardon me?" Petunia said quietly

"Murder Alley. 'S not the place for a baby." the man said as he stood by his own car, the driver side door open.

"I've not heard that." she said slowly. "Why is it called that?" She hadn't gone back to the Alley after that first time.

"During the war, The Second World War, dead bodies would be found there. No sign of violence or struggle, just dead bodies. The paper's all said the people died of heart related failures, but my da' told me 'if you want to live you stay away from that alley. Nothing but murder found there.'" He smiled as if he was giving her grand advice. "They never did find out why so many people were here, in this specific alley. Some called it Suicide Alley because so many people were found there. But no sign of suicide could ever be found." The chap seemed nice enough.

"Well thank you, I'll keep that in mind." she said politely. "However it seems this building next to the alley was left to the family and I've come to see if anything can be made of it."

"Ah. Well good luck. Can't remember any business surviving here" As she drew closer to the door, the man lost interest in her and abruptly said goodbye. It's odd how the wizard magic could affect normal people. Murder Alley, huh? She thought to herself. Just how long have the wizards been killing people? The longer Lilly had been in the wizarding world the more uncomfortable Petunia had become. She didn't understand the rules that lead them, their history, their economy. It was frightening. The one thing she did know though, was that the only bank they had belonged to goblins. It was the giant white structure that she needed to get to.

She opened the pub door, one arm keeping Harry close to her chest. Inside the building hung a nebula of smoke. Or smoke-like, she thought incredulously. There were smoke dragons, cats, dogs, shooting stars and things she had no words to explain. If it wasn't so garish she would call it magical. It seemed that it was a slow time for the pub. There was a witch, shroud in a black veil smoking a pipe, and in one corner someone was reading the paper (though all you could see was smoke coming from behind it). A few people sat close and talked in whispers. The pub itself was classic in it's dark wood and ornate moldings. Crystal chandeliers hung over the bar, sheets of cobwebs obscuring their light, and there were leather topped stools in front that were all empty. The wooden bar top was dinged and scratched and mostly clean. The floor was uneven stone and Petunia walked carefully in her black pumps.

"Excuse me sir," She said politely to the man working the bar. He wore a dark vest, over a ruffled, threadbare shirt that may have once been white. The billowy sleeves were held back by a simple garter at his bicep. The grey eyes looked up to her were curious, but his near toothless smile was a bit offputting.

"Name's Tom, Welcome to the Leaky!" he was friendly enough.

"Yes, thank you. I was hoping you could help me?" she said, patting Harry's back in her own nervousness.

"Well I'll do what I can," he said earnestly.

Taking a deep breath she prepared her speech. "My sister recently passed away and I've taken custody of her son. I need to settle her estate but I don't have a wand. Could you possibly let me into the alley?"

Tom open smile closed and became tinged with sadness. "Aye, there are many orphans. Sorry bout yer loss."

"Thank you," she said quietly. Still fighting back tears. Death does strange things to relationships. It puts things into a whole new perspective.

The barman quietly came out from behind the bar and led her down an 'L' shaped hallway that ended in a Gothic arched alcove. There was no seating, no paintings, just rough stone. Taking out his wand he tapped, what seemed to her to be, a random stone. As he stepped away, the stone began to melt outward until the alcove became an arched entry. The Alley was far from empty and Petunia could feel her heart rate increase. Cradling Harry closer she reminded herself: "I must do this."

"Thank you Tom," she said as she stepped into the Diagon Alley. The thing that drover her mad was the disparate styles around her. Every shop was built differently. Some were quaint and could easily fit into many country villages. There was some that belonged in a caricature Gothic novel, and yet others built in a Tudor era were right next door. It was chaos. Their cloths were no less nonsensical the only thing that was common were robes. Yet even those were all in varying styles. The style was eccentric at best: Hats with vultures, powdered wigs with feathers and pearls, hair that changed color or glowed, there was something different everywhere you looked. It made Petunia stand out that much more. For this meeting she had chosen a solid soft pink dress, that hung to her knees, black pumps and her pearls. Her blonde hair pulled back into a bun.

Petunia you don't have time to gawk, She told herself severely. You have things that need to get done and only so much time to do it. Bracing herself she began to walk with aplomb toward the towering white building she could see down the alley. It was another unique building. It looked like a child had placed large blocks of stone into a tower. Somehow it stayed upright, defying gravity by it's very existence. It took her a few moments to make her way through. She certainly got a few derisive looks but no one was bold enough to actually approach her. Thankfully.

Approaching the bank she saw that there were stairs leading to the door. The entry way roof was held up by columns. The doors gleamed in the weak light that entered into the alley. The bronze was cold to the touch, with six panels. What they depicted was beyond her, but they were masterfully done. There were guards in heavy plate armor to each side of the door with great spears. They stared straight ahead. "Excuse me, do I just enter?" she asked the guards who didn't even look at her. Shrugging she pushed, and the thick door glided open as if it were but a feather. Inside the building was exquisite. It was richly appointed but not garishly so. Simple and understated as much gold chandeliers, and silver veins forking their way through the walls could be called such. Along one wall, at exact distances from eachother, were more guards. Some ended up flanking archways that, if this were a normal place, would lead directly into the alley. Here they probably lead to a warren of halways. Sconces along the wall and on columns throughout the buildingl, were sculpted and elegant, even if they were more fighting goblins.

In the middle of the rectangular space was a table that seemed to contain various documents, quills, and ink. Atleast that was relativly normal. Accross from the guards was a long raised counter, topped with cages that kept the bank tellers seperated from their customers. Whether they were procting themselves from possible theft or protecting the clients from the bankers was uncertain. She walked slowly to a short queue. Wizards and witches muttered among themselves. Their conversations were nonsensical to her and pointed out that here, she was the outsider. It wasn't a feeling she enjoyed. Pixie mating cycles and the benefit of swarms that hibernated versus those that migrate was a heated discussion going on in front of her.

"Dursley!" startled Petunia looked around. Stepping out of an archway was a well dressed goblin. He wore dark grey twill trousers, a dove grey blazer with a purple pocket square. Petunia appreciated the normalacy of the goblins appearance. Even if his skin was tinged green, the high forehead with slickbacked black hair was not at all uncommon in the normal world. It was the wide nostrals set in a long pointy nose, long ears that stuck out of the side of it's head and fanged eye and canine teeth that truly set it apart. That and it's lacking height.

"Yes?" Petunia responded to his call. He motioned for her to come towards him as he walked to meet her.

Bowing slightly at the waist he said solemnly, "We here at Gringotts wish to extend our condolences to you and your family in this time of grief."

"Oh," slightly off put she didn't immediately know how to respond. "Thank you. Did you know my sister?"

"I met Mrs. Potter a few times," he repsonded. "please follow me." He lead her back towoard the archway he had come from. "My name is Griphook. My boss was notified when you entered with the young Potter heir. As their account manager he will be the one you will need to see."

"oh," seemed to be the only response she was capable of. She hadn't expected things to go so quickly.

"Goblins appreciate effenciecy madam." Griphook responding to her unanswered question. He lead her into a cavern like hallway with a raised walkway they journyed down. The walls were moist and the cave formations were cleverly lit and breathtaking in their natrual beauty. They walked in silence for a moment before they turned right and stepped down into a comfortable waiting area. It was it's own office conatained within a small grotto. The door at the rear, was set in worked stone. A contrast to cave around them. "Please have a seat Mrs. Dursley. I will notify the account maanger that you are here. Can I get you a drink? Water perhaps?" He head her to a black leather couch flanked by endtables topped with ferns.

"Oh. um. Yes please. Water would be perfect." She tried to smile as she sat, somewhat dazed. He returned shortly with her water.

"Account Manager Gorul has been notified, your wait should be too long." With that the goblin went to his desk and began doing whatever it was that kept him busy. Petunia sipped from the crystal goblet. She was surprised to find that the water had a pleasant floral smell. The toddler at her chest sighed as he snuggled close reminding her sharply that while coming here was difficult for her, his whole world had recently shattered. Their world was changing. It seems murder still stalked this wizarding alley.

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