Djura should have predicted that wizardry would rear its unwelcome head, for they were on a street of magic broomstick shops and bubblejuice cafés haunted by attic ghouls. It would have been stranger if the thief had not drawn a magic wand. But Djura was not just a so-called "muggle", but a muggle who'd discovered the wizarding world in his forties. He would never get used to it.
And he would never forgive it.
The weapon was not enough for the brave Baron to unhand him, and soon the weapon went flying anyway; disarmed, Djura swiftly realised, by the elegant young woman. A witch.
As the grey clouds above threatened to open to rain, Djura held onto his quarry — the boy's skinny arm in one hand, the handbag in the other. He held this out for the lady to reclaim. "Madam", he gave a curt nod to the stranger, not yet sure how to address her, but assuming societal quality based on appearance alone. "Where should I bring this boy to face the consequences of his actions?" For Baron Crossridge was a stranger in a strange land; he could hardly march this little wizard up to the nearest Metropolitan Police Station.
... Right?
![[Image: djura-sig.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/19ZN7g0/djura-sig.jpg)
And he would never forgive it.
The weapon was not enough for the brave Baron to unhand him, and soon the weapon went flying anyway; disarmed, Djura swiftly realised, by the elegant young woman. A witch.
As the grey clouds above threatened to open to rain, Djura held onto his quarry — the boy's skinny arm in one hand, the handbag in the other. He held this out for the lady to reclaim. "Madam", he gave a curt nod to the stranger, not yet sure how to address her, but assuming societal quality based on appearance alone. "Where should I bring this boy to face the consequences of his actions?" For Baron Crossridge was a stranger in a strange land; he could hardly march this little wizard up to the nearest Metropolitan Police Station.
... Right?