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Post by Bartholomew Malaki on Apr 21, 2007 12:49:49 GMT 10
A place to meet such as this was a choice made wrongly. Bartholomew did not appreciate having to set foot in the Three Broomsticks and indeed he was looked upon as an unwelcome visitor from the moment he stepped in. The drink in front of him was one he ordered only because he knew it was necessary for pretences to do so, though he didn’t not dare lift it to his lips. It had been a very long time since he and the proprietor of this establishment had clashed, but that had been the last interaction between them and he did not dare think he could taste a drink free of; at the very least; spit.
He sat in a table in a far corner looking out of the window to the muggle town lower on the mountains side. He had not been to Thredbo for a very long time and though even now it was amazing how the people in the muggle town were so close to Koaltumut and to the school and had never seen it. Such was magic, he guessed.
He stirred uneasily as he felt an arm sweep past him. The delivery had been made, though it would be inappropriate to rise from the chair straight away. He felt his pocket and saw that the package was indeed where it should be. And so he lifted his glass to his mouth under the pretence of drinking it. When he put it back on the table a small amount of the amber liquid was now gone. Though not one drop of it had actually reached him. Again; such was magic.
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