Just on the edge of Diagon Alley, where it met with the spooky Knockturn, there was a sweet little cove where Claire had taken up residence. Having run out of couches to surf on, she was now staying in whichever spot she fell down drunk. It was easier that way, drunk. It had taken one night of trying to fall asleep moderately sober for Claire to realize that it wasn't an option. It never crossed her mind that she might need to find a new job, now that she was on probation at Zonko's. One too many incidents had occurred where she was caught sleeping on the job or was massively hungover. She had been too erratic to explain what had happened with the whole squirrel thing. It was a mess.

She didn't care, though. She had her trusty monster bag that had lots of goodies inside. Trusty magic had given her the ability to store her most needed belongings while she was on the streets. Namely, several flasks of alcohol. Claire pretty much had a full bar stocked in her bag. She also had a few of her Byrnes, and of course always wore her trusty dinosaur defense-lace around her neck for protection.

Yawning, Claire sat up and leaned against the wall and sat with her feet straight out. It was then that she discovered she was barefoot and her feet were astoundingly dirty. Well, sod it. She unscrewed the lid of the flask and tipped it into her mouth only to make another discovery: it was empty.

"Aw, feck," Claire groaned, tossing the useless container on the ground.