Who: Astrophel Fleetwood and Luna Lovegood When:Monday early afternoon Where: St. Mungo's. What: Astrophel burnt his hand and seeks healing! Rating: TBD Open/Closed: OPEN to whoever!
Most people assumed any strangeness to be had by Astrophel was a direct result of the lingering curse that still held tight to his mind best it could. Of course, that was only the people who didn't know him well enough. The truth was, a lot of odd quirks were hard to explain and were quirks he had since he was a child.
Once, when he was nine, he had went a whole day with two scraped knees without telling a soul. They were bleeding an awful lot and when their house elf inspected him later he was asked why he never told anyone despite how bad the scrapes were.
And the boy couldn't think of any reason.
Even now when the receptionist, a pretty witch in her thirties, asked him why it took him so long to come to St. Mungo's for his burnt hand his response was a simple shrug and warm smile.
"I don't know."
"Well... have a seat and they will call you back in a moment, Mr. Fleetwood."
He sat beside a child who seemed to be suffering from a mild cough and cold but showed no signs of dragon pox. Astrophel watched the child, despite his runny nose, smile happily as he colored in what happened to be his mother's magical journal.
"That's very good," he said. The boy looked up and went pink.
"Thanks."
"Can I color too?"
The mother, too busy gossiping with some witch a couple seats away, was unaware that her child was now sharing part of her journal with a grown man who was using his good hand to draw a picture of a purple tiger.