Adrian Blackwood

Adrian opened the door, only to have it come right off the hinges. The witch made a sound of disgust which was echoed by his cat. "I'm glad I stayed in the carrier," Boston declared, ignoring Yelena and her points.

Typical cat.

He once more pulled his belongings from the back seat and then also helped Fanny to avoid any of the particularly rusty or sharp spots as she climbed out - just in time as the undercarriage began to fall apart.

"Not yet, Bran," he said and the broom's rustling got louder, more annoyed sounding. "We still don't know what's happening here or the rules. We didn't come this far just to mess it up by being impatient at the very end. I know this process has been a trial for all of us," he continued patiently as he slid the strap over his shoulders to secure the broom to his back. "But we made it! This is what we've been working toward for all these years! If we can't handle a bit of...transportation irregularities, we might as well turn around and go home."

"We could, you know," Boston said, looking up at him through the holes in his cat carrier. “They sell tickets back to Massachusetts."

"Absolutely not," he informed his familiar. "The coven is depending on us. So we're going to follow our lovely escort and assume that she's not lying or walking us into a trap."

"And if she is?" Boston asked.

"Then we handle it," Adrian replied. "But until then, I'm going to trust in Aunt Muriel's judgment and that, on the whole, people are better than not." A pause. "Warlocks and sorcerers notwithstanding."

"And loyalists."

"And loyalists," Adrian agreed.