Chapter 1 -:- Lawrence
Oswin walked hurriedly down the Market Street. He turned into a small alleyway. Looking around, he took a long, thin piece of wood and tapped on the wall of the alley three times.
With a slight groan, the ground parted beneath him. With one last glance around, Oswin muttered "sinkeus finite" and was sucked into the ground.
He slid a considerable amount, before landing in a cold, damp passage. The only light came from torches placed every fifty paces or so down the tunnel. The ground was uneven earth packed hard by the hundreds of feet that walked on it daily. The ceiling was low, with the occasional root hanging down. Oswin stooped slightly as he pressed on down the passage.
After about a hundred paces, Oswin came into a large cavern. The cavern was lit by what seemed to be millions of floating fireflies. Along every wall were shops-shops that were selling the strangest things. Owls, bat spleens, rat tails, books of spells, magical wands, cauldrons, amulets, star charts, and scales, among other things. A large banner hovering near a corner read WIZARD HOLLOW.
At the very end of the cavern, a stone fireplace was carved into the packed earth that made up the walls. The fireplace was ten men wide and at least twenty men tall. A green fire was roaring in its grate.
"Oswin! How are you, old chap?"
Oswin turned around to face a wizard with curly auburn hair and flowing emerald robes.
"Conan! What a lovely surprise! You've heard, I suppose?" Oswin smiled.
"I have, in fact. How does it feel?"
"I couldn't express the joy. I'm on my way home right now, so I can see him." Oswin started walking again toward the gigantic fireplace.
Conan glanced at the fireplace looming overhead and asked casually, "So… what do you think about the new travel powder?"
"I think it's the best thing to come along since the flying broomstick. Floo Powder, is it called?"
"I think so," Conan replied. "Well, I must be off. I told Muriel I'd be home before supper."
Oswin bid him farewell, then turned back to the fireplace. At the base of it was an ordinary barrel filled with glowing red powder. He took a pinch and threw it into the fire.
The flames turned bright blue as Oswin stepped into them. "Magnolia!" He shouted to the fire, and at once he was spun around on end up the chimney.
In about five seconds, he came to an abrupt halt and stumbled out of a fireplace into a kitchen.
"Hello, Oswin, dear. Come have a look at your son." His wife, Hilda, sat in a chair holding a baby boy.
Oswin walked over eagerly, with a childish grin over his face.
Hilda stood up and handed him the baby.
A tear formed into the eye of Oswin as he looked into his son's eyes. They were gray-a penetrating gray. His skin was light as snow and his hair was fair.
"Lawrence." He said. "His name is Lawrence. Lawrence Hawkins."