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Snippet #1584980

located in The Wizarding World, a part of Life--Or Something Like It--After Hogwarts, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Wizarding World

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Sander stumbled out of the fireplace and almost immediately felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders to keep him on his feet.

"Careful, boy," Bersven the troll keeper rumbled, laughing heartily as he gave the frail wizard a strong pat on the back. Sander smiled weakly and corrected his clothing, slightly displeased that his brand new clothing already was half covered in ash. The long black coat was quite different from his previously tattered robes, which had been discarded on sight by the troll keeper's wife with, he was told, a small ritual involving a fireplace. His other clothing was also quite a bit fancier than he was used to, and he couldn't help but to wonder how the wife had known his exact measurements.

They stepped out of the room among a great deal of other wizards and witches moving in different directions. Bersven didn't remove his hand from the boy's shoulder until they were out on the streets. He then turned towards him, inhaling with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Well, then. This is goodbye. You can find your way from here, I suppose?"

"I-I. Um. Yes. I've b-been there before," Sander answered. Bersven smiled and patted his shoulder.

"That's a good boy. Hope not to find you half-eaten in the woods again any time soon, then," he joked.

"Hah, n-no, I'll try to avoid it. Thank you for everything," Sander replied awkwardly.

"Oh, pish posh, no problem at all. I'll see you around then!" Bersven grinned widely and pulled the poor werewolf into a crushing hug, before letting go and turning on his heel. He disappeared into the crowd with surprising stealth despite being quite a lot bigger than his surrounding strangers.

"R-right," Sander mumbled to himself. "Hospital, then."

- - - -

Jim Carver was fascinated. His pursuit of Smith had led him all across Europe, and it had taken him more time than he anticipated, catching up with him after the incident in Spain.

A take-away cup of coffee in his hand, he sat down on a small chair on top of the building where he was observing the hospital’s entrance. It wasn’t too long ago since Smith had entered, and as he was unaware of Drake’s incident he couldn’t help but to wonder what the man was doing in there. Still, he decided not to risk his life or freedom by entering, and sighed pleasantly. He was certainly not in any hurry.