Djura glowered down at the boy, his cold face betraying a dangerous expression as he regarded him. It was enough for even this cocky brat to cower. Personally, Djura felt it wrong that the lad wasn't to be traditionally punished — what kind of justice did they have in the wizarding world? The problem was, Djura did not wish to embed himself further in said world by marching this boy down to whatever their equivalent of a Police Station was.

So he didn't argue. The Countess was right; he didn't have his foolish magic stick any more, so at least there was that. Fighting every instinct in his body, the solid Baron let go of the boy, who vanished into the nearest alleyway like a shadow into the night.

With no such foul distractions remaining, and the rain showing no sign of returning, Djura looked at the Countless now, as if finally seeing her properly. "So", he began slowly, deigning to address the elephant in the room. "You are..." a witch, he wanted to say, but the word seemed extremely discourteous to him. "In possession of a magic wand."

He wondered how many more of his peers held the same secret. It didn't bear thinking about.