Post by Felix I. Genero on Jan 2, 2008 11:26:49 GMT -5
The trial had finished and all the people filed out of the small courtroom into the streets of the Triangle Tunnel. At first Felix followed them out to the cold street, a few of the people disappeared quickly but Felix was at a lose of how to get home. A man in a black robe and small glasses had given him a medium size bag of apparent medal by the sound of the clinking. The young Gryffindor had no use for such an item and the thought he might indulge himself to a treat once he got back to the University. That is, if he ever got back.
With only the money, wand, student robes, borrowed dress robes and confused mind, Felix wondered back into the Ministry to change and return the robes. Finding a small hallway marked with an highly enthusiastic arrow and two moving entertaining simple portraits of Man’s Room and Woman’s room. Felix changed back into his normal robes and was glad to find his pocket contests was still there. Feeling silly Felix scribbled on a scratch piece of paper, “Black Forest Church Dungeon Wardrobe.” And stuck it too the dress robes. The boy hung it up on a hook and left it hoping he wouldn’t be arrested for doing such an act.
Out in the corridor a bunch of wizards and witches busily went about business. Totally lost, Felix found his way out the door and back onto the street’s of the Tunnel. He had no map, no way to get home.
Realizing to late that the he had missed his fellow students departure Felix had not a clue what to do. He could ask someone to take him with them back to Firefox but he had no idea which towering, busy wizard or witch to ask. He had money, he could try and pay someone to return him. But who to trust? A boy coming up with a galleon asking them to transport him back home was an easy way to kidnap or rob him. Easily someone could just pull him to a dark ally and see how many more galleons he had and leave him for the beggars and ally rats to finish him off.
Slumping against a wall Felix stared out into space. Thinking of the small squirrel that he had seen in the jail. Flying Shakira and almost falling off. Even the Firefox representative who he still did not know the name of. Would he ever get home? The previous day had been so eventful it seemed like forever.
Rummaging in his pocket he found a piece of paper with the word ‘Quintaped’ scribbled badly. Chuckling slightly he remembered that right before he entered the greenhouse that started this whole thing he had gotten distracted on his way to the library for research on the particular creature he was going to investigate. Now, almost a day later without sleep, he still did not know what it was. But that was the last of his worries.