            Hermione gave herself a minute to gaze around at the entryway to Paris’s Wizarding District. It reminded her quite a lot of Diagon Alley, with its shops and lights and patrons milling about, despite the late hour. Only where Diagon Alley was all crooked roofs and gleaming cobblestones, the buildings here were intimidating with their white, stately brick and black iron fixtures. The same color pathed the wide street spread before her, the brick gleaming under the glow of acid-green gas lamps.