Who: Harry Potter and OPEN! What: Making small talk! When: Early, Friday morning. Where: The streets of Diagon Alley. Why: For the heck of it?
The morning light was warm and buttery, and as Harry took one last fleeting look at the giant clock behind him, the hour hand turned to read 5:00, exactly. Now well more than three-quarters done with his run, he rounded the corner of Duffelpud and Frostlings Pastry Shop; waving to the steady bakery employees that were retrieving out fresh sheets of browned croissants from their over-sized ovens. Being that it was so horribly early, Harry and Bologna (who chased and nipped happily at Harry’s heels) very nearly had free range of the Diagon Alley walkways – there would be, perhaps, three of four others, who did little more than tip their hats and go on their merry way. It was, frankly, fantastic for a quiet run, and since he took a hearty sprint at least twice a day, one could easily set their watch by Harry, as he passed.
Slowing considerably, the sound of Harry’s trainers against the black, slick cobblestones began to leisurely dwindle into nothing, as Harry’s six-mile lope had, apparently, come full-circle. Putting both his hands behind his head, he gracelessly plopped into an old wooden bench, and caught his breath, tickling Bologna’s ears as the poor mutt yanked restlessly at his leash. “Alright, alright!” Harry finally agreed, remerging to his feet with renewed stamina.
Then catching a quick glimpse of a familiar face, Harry beamed and called out a polite “Hello!”