All our times have come

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*Shop signs flip magically to Open, umbrellas bloom over outdoor tables, street venders set up their carts, and arrangements of cages, stacks of cauldrons, and painted sandwich boards walk themselves out onto the cobblestones in front of storefronts. The highstreet slowly fills with the wizard world's early risers. Teas and coffees are clutched in the hands of businessmen, Ministry employees, and shopowners as they make their morning trips to the post office, stop for copies of the Prophet, and bustle in and out of Gringotts.

But as these daily routines are carried out, the sky overhead darkens and an unusual wind sweeps around the expanse of ankles. The air grows unnaturally cold and dark for September, and a feeling of unease hangs above them all. Witches and wizards in the streets slow, gradually, some checking the faces of those nearby to see if they feel it as well. No one is quite sure what to make of this mass wariness upsetting their schedule, until, down near Ollivander's, several dark stretched figures sweep noiselessly into view.*