Andrew was more than just a little relieved to see himself released from that stinking castle for the holiday. Hogsmeade was more than satisfactory for him. He had made a beeline to Michael's place, had "invited himself in," "helped himself to Michael's generosity," and then left again with his pockets filled with sickles and his backpack loaded with some of Michael's finer things in life, including a silver flask of firewhiskey, some nicely colored random gemstones, and, especially, a fine supply of Michael's beloved imported handmade Italian cigarettes.
However, in the process, he'd accidently let Michael's two "dogs" out. The two enchanted ottomans that believed they were cocker spaniels had bolted out of the house and down the Hogsmeade streets. The black leather "male" footstool, Otto, had been followed closely behind by the little french provincial footstool that was covered in pink brocade--Faleen. Andrew groaned unhappily. He usually could "provide for himself" without getting caught. Now here he was dashing down the darkened Hogsmeade streets amongst the Halloween decorations and odd holiday sights, as if the running footstools weren't odd enough. He watched them dash into some odd tent, and without looking or paying any attention, he dashed in behind the footstools, believing he could simply slip off his socks and lure them out with the promise of a treat. He remembered Michael telling tales that the stupid furniture ate socks for some quirky reason.
Once he got into the tent, he looked about and did not see the footstools in sight. He saw a fabric partition dividing one room from another, and it was moving. Damn. They'd gone into the other room. And just what was this place anyway? And how was he to explain two pieces of furniture that believed they were a mating pair of cocker spaniels, no matter who the devil owned this tent.
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