Charles had worked hard enough for one day. With this weird fog appearing to slowly take over Irvingly, Charles had opted to give himself a little treat. He grabbed a small satchel of loose change, hoping it would be enough for a few drinks, kissed his mother on the forehead and said his goodbyes to his father. His brother was probably out copulating or god-only-knows what else and his sister was laying contently on the floor reading a book. It was rather peaceful in his household though sometimes, the peace did irritate him.
He pulled on a suit his mother had tailored for him and went to one of the ‘safe zones’ the Ministry had set up. It was an inconvenience for him but he absolutely refused to use the Floo network for several reasons. The most prudent of which, if he entered the casino – he knew he wouldn’t even make it Hogsmeade to go to one of his favourite pubs: The Three Broomsticks.
Arriving at the designated spot, he nodded to one of the ministry officials who seemed to be staring rather confusedly at the fog and patted his overcoat to make sure his satchel and wand were in his pockets. Once confirmed, his body contorted and as if being pushed through a particularly small tunnel, Charles appeared outside of a shop on the High Street.
He didn’t like apparating directly to The Three Broomsticks. The last time he had, he’d got himself covered in beer and did not want to revisit that experience.
Kicking a few stones as he gleefully walked in the direction of the pub, Charles noticed some figure slumped over on the ground. Curious, he approached to realise she was a young lady. A harlot? What on earth was she doing out of the slums?
Charles knelt down beside her and moved his hand under her chin. Tilting her head upward so as to see her face, Charles lulled his head to the side and pulled out a handkerchief with his spare hand, “Hey, woah there, Miss,” Charles said softly, “Ain’t a pretty girl like you supposed to have tears on her face,” His tone was dripping with an air of concern, “what’s happened?”
He pulled on a suit his mother had tailored for him and went to one of the ‘safe zones’ the Ministry had set up. It was an inconvenience for him but he absolutely refused to use the Floo network for several reasons. The most prudent of which, if he entered the casino – he knew he wouldn’t even make it Hogsmeade to go to one of his favourite pubs: The Three Broomsticks.
Arriving at the designated spot, he nodded to one of the ministry officials who seemed to be staring rather confusedly at the fog and patted his overcoat to make sure his satchel and wand were in his pockets. Once confirmed, his body contorted and as if being pushed through a particularly small tunnel, Charles appeared outside of a shop on the High Street.
He didn’t like apparating directly to The Three Broomsticks. The last time he had, he’d got himself covered in beer and did not want to revisit that experience.
Kicking a few stones as he gleefully walked in the direction of the pub, Charles noticed some figure slumped over on the ground. Curious, he approached to realise she was a young lady. A harlot? What on earth was she doing out of the slums?
Charles knelt down beside her and moved his hand under her chin. Tilting her head upward so as to see her face, Charles lulled his head to the side and pulled out a handkerchief with his spare hand, “Hey, woah there, Miss,” Charles said softly, “Ain’t a pretty girl like you supposed to have tears on her face,” His tone was dripping with an air of concern, “what’s happened?”