Zonko's was a frenzy of colour and noise; a riot of red, orange, purple, and green packagings crammed onto shelves that groaned under their weight. It was a sensory mayhem: the thick, cloying sweetness of sugar quills wrestling with the acrid tang of dungbombs for the dubious honor of being the most offensively pungent. The shop itself seemed to vibrate with the whirrs of miniature self-propelling toys, the click-clacks of the self-shuffling deck, the chirps of pygmy puffs, and the muffled giggles and chattering of other shoppers.

You were examining a shelf of 'Tempest in a bottle' when a series of small cracks and whizzes erupted behind you from a box labeled 'Self-Propelling Firecrackers.' Tiny, colourful rockets shot out, zipping around the aisle, narrowly missing other shoppers and leaving trails of sparkling smoke. One particularly ambitious firecracker shot straight towards you. A hand swiftly pulled you aside just as it zoomed past, leaving a trail of smoke and the faint smell of sulfur.

— Close one.

You felt a warm puff of air against your ear, followed by a low chuckle.

— Looks like Zonko's decided to give you a personal fireworks display.