Silence belonged only to the secluded alley. As Wizet and the little Thunderbird approached its mouth, the noise grew clearer and clearer.
This was Brooklyn, New York, after all. Even well past midnight, it was still restless, though tonight the unrest seemed especially pronounced.
The alley led to a shabby little square packed with people. Wizet took a quick look; there were at least seventy or eighty of them.
The crowd included both men and women, dressed in overcoats or work clothes. They formed a semicircle, all looking up at the man standing in the middle of the square.
They all held torches, the flickering flames illuminating face after face twisted with fanaticism.
The man in the middle of the square was tall and wore a brown leather jacket. He waved his torch as he delivered a speech, his somewhat hoarse voice powerfully stirring.
"They think what happened in Paris was their victory! A clarion call heralding a brighter future for the wizarding world! I'm telling you, it was nothing but the death knell of their arrogance!"
Something seemed to catch the little Thunderbird's attention. Standing on Wizet's shoulder, it rubbed its beak against his cheek and gave a puzzled call. "Chirp, chirp?"
As the little Thunderbird grew puzzled, the man continued his speech. "That Wizet! That evil wizard! He's the one responsible for the situation we're in today!"
"We must never let him deceive us. What he's bringing isn't change, but a blatant threat! If he can make trees grow out of that tower, he can turn our homes into trees too!"
"If he can make white light descend from the sky, he can use that light to enslave our souls! A bright future? Progress? It's all a lie! Those are the whispers of a devil beguiling our hearts!"