Fancy meeting you here (Victoria) (Light swearing)

Olivia pulled the hood over her head and walked, fast, into a side alleyway. It was a bleak day, sunshine nowhere to be seen and fog was covering the streets of Diagon Alley. It only made the dodgy little alleyway seem more suspicious and dramatic, like a murderer could jump out at any given moment. It gave off the impression that some sort of black market was operating out of one of the houses, that drugs were being sold, or even made there. Well, to be honest, Olivia wasn't entirely sure that that wasn't the case.

She wasn't there to murder anyone, to make, sell or buy drugs and she certainly wasn't there to sell any of her internal organs. She was there to buy some hard-to-get-but-strictly-speaking-not-illegal potions, to get some old records in a tiny shop somewhere around there and to get the first edition of Fahrenheit 451 for her brother.

Basically, Olivia was running errands, but it was all much more dramatic in her head. It was nearing her oldest brother, Anthony's birthday and he had been dropping not-so-subtle hints what he wanted. The guy may be the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd, but Olivia loved him, so she tracked down some old lady who owned one of the first editions of the book and convinced her it would be much better if Anthony owned it.

She had already gotten the book, sat through a cup of tea and torturous chatter, ate some of the best biscuits she had ever had and petted four cats at the same time. The good outweighed the bad and it certainly wasn't one of the worst experiences of her life. Sure, Mrs. Peters asked her about a boyfriend about five times, said some pretty racist stuff in an off-hand manner, insulted her piercings, but on the other hand...
There had been cats. Four of them. All of them nuzzling her with their tiny snouts, curling up on her lap, playing with the strings of her hoodie, swishing their tails across her face... It was like heaven, really.

Now she was on her way to a semi-legal pharmacy, where you could get rare potions for a reasonable price, if you knew the right people. Luckily Olivia knew the right people.

She turned a corner that lead into an even more suspicious alley, with graffiti all over the walls, the fences torn, windows in the houses were mostly broken. She could hear fighting and yelling, things being thrown into walls, a baby was crying somewhere and some trashy music was being blasted in one of the flats. Olivia walked up to a building with chipped paint and what looked eerily like blood on the front door and pressed one of the buzzers. A few seconds later, there was a loud buzz and the girl pushed the heavy doors, careful to avoid the red patches.

Fifteen minutes later, Olivia walked out of the building, her bag heavier and her wallet significantly lighter. With the hoodie still on her head, she made her way out of the creepy alleyway, leaving behind her the angry shouting, the sound of plates breaking, the baby that was still screeching and what she now knew for certain that was blood on the door.

She hurried along the empty alleys onto to crowded streets of Diagon Alley, one of her hands always resting on her shoulder bag. The final stop was on the other side of Diagon and by the time she reached it, Olivia had plotted murder of at least ten people. She didn't like other people much at their best, and when they all poured out onto the streets, pushed and yelled at others, elbowing anyone who stood in their way, or stopped in the middle of the street for no apparent reason, she absolutely despised the whole human race.

As if that wasn't enough, some guy deliberately bumped into her when she was entering the store.

"Watch it asshole!" Olivia yelled after him and he only flipped her off without even turning around. She flipped him right back and then went into the store, ready to commit mass murder. Luckily there weren't many people in the tiny shop.

There were records in cardboard boxes, they were stacked on the shelves or just piled on the floor as they pleased. Olivia walked to where she knew metal records would be stored, placed her bag on the floor next to her and looked through the records, regaining some of the inner peace as she did so.