After nearly a fortnight of being cursed, Barnabas decided the home remedies and that one teashop in Hogsmeade weren't going to remove it anytime soon. Rather begrudgingly, he'd gone to the hospital to have proper treatment. It would have been better if the welcome witch hadn't laughed at him, nor at the handprint that he'd left on his own face due to his reaction to her laugh. It still stung; likely a bright red outline of his hand could be seen on his cheek.

His cane clicked against the floor tiles as he made his way to the waiting area. It had been surprisingly empty, only a woman and an annoyingly fussy infant in her arms. Without warning, she rushed at him, blurting some excuse he couldn't quite catch before she took off. Then she was gone and said fussy infant was now in his arm. What the devil? How had... how had she been so bloody fast?

"Ma'am!" He shouted after her, "I don't know who you think I am, but I do not want this!" The shouting seemed to have startled the infant. Its chubby face crinkled up and suddenly it was scream-crying. Barnabas stared at it in complete bewilderment. What was he to do now? Return it, he needed to return it. Though he didn't know if handing it back to a mother who had dumped it in a stranger's arms was the best choice, either. Either way, he carried the surprisingly loud thing in one arm, like a sack of potatoes—having no idea how it was supposed to be held—while using his other arm to maneuver his cane in an attempt to chase the woman down.

Tabitha Chevalier