Strange secretly retrieved a book from the library.
At the King's loud shout, he pulled his arm back, placed the randomly selected book beneath a lamp, and began examining it closely.
A book with no title.
Its cover was very thick, seemingly made of some kind of animal hide. It had clearly been published a long time ago, and fibrous dust was packed into the creases and grooves, impossible to wipe away.
Strange leaned in and sniffed. A peculiar scent seemed to linger between the yellowed pages. It wasn't the smell of ink or paper. He considered it for a moment, then realized it smelled like the butter he'd opened a few days ago, with a hint of fermenting wheat.
Someone must have been drinking Butterbeer while reading, he thought, frowning as he silently condemned this fellow reader for ignoring proper library etiquette.
After his grumbling, the future Sorcerer Supreme plopped down on the wool rug warmed by the fire and ate the apple floating in the air in three or four bites. He brushed off his hands. Good, his fingers were dry and free of juice. Satisfied, he turned the page.
It was spatial magic.
Unfamiliar ancient characters curled and twisted across the page. The firewood crackling had become the perfect lullaby. About half an hour later, perhaps because the room was too warm, the man's back gradually relaxed. A flash of scarlet passed by, and a figure gently lifted a blanket from the sofa and draped it over his head.
His eyes had closed for only an instant.
Strange landed in a drab little alley.
He wasn't even wearing a coat, and stood there pitifully still. The cold air crept beneath his clothes, while bitter, sweet, pungent, and musty smells rushed into his nose all at once, making the man sneeze loudly.
"This is... huh?"
His vision was suddenly blocked. Strange instinctively reached up and felt a soft bundle of fabric.
The Cloak responded by wrapping itself around his entire head, forcing Strange to look up and see...
Diagon Alley.
Theme: Love and magic
