<div class="floatleft">(https://31.media.tumblr.com/ef53f0bd576e98cb1f035dc7fc9fc8b3/tumblr_mzpvutA3sC1rjpd1ko1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name (PC/NPC):</strong>Anders Pedersen<br/><strong>Year/House:</strong>Papillonlisse, 5th Year<br/><strong>Relationship Status:</strong>Single<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Link (http://25.media.tumblr.com/b44d3f3281b03c69430f24527119c6ab/tumblr_mzq9wbskPe1rjpd1ko1_500.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Carriage from Lyon<br/><strong>Date:</strong>September 1st<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>As he sat in the cab, looking out the window to all of the sights of Lyon passing him by, Anders could not help but to feel as if his summer had been an utter failure.<br/><br/>It had started out just fine, just as all of his summers had when he came home from school.  His Grandparents showered him with their love and affection, happy to see him arrive back home in good health and spirits.  Back to his job he went, delivering pizza and take-out, daydreaming of the day when he would finally go back to the place where he felt he belonged the most in his life.<br/><br/>But then it all slowly began to crumble before him.<br/><br/>His hands reached into his pocket, unfolding the old, fading picture from years and years before.  It was the only lead he had, the only key he had in the hopes of finding out more and more about his father.  Chasing ghosts had brought him there, hunting down a phantom which had seemingly been lost to the sands of time.  A waste of time.<br/><br/>It had all started with the picture.  When he had first found it, cleaning out the attic on his grandmother's request, Anders had thought he had found gold.  The faded picture of his mother, embracing another man in front of some landmark on what seemed to be a sunny day, had been all he had to go on for the first time in years.  He had searched and searched through website after website, scanning the different pages of landmarks, until he found it, Place des Terreaux.<br/><br/>When he had finally found it, when he finally stood in the middle of the square, he couldn't help but to feel even more disappointed, feeling the crushing weight upon his shoulders.  On more than one occasion he had wished, hoped, that his father would be there by some chance, as if waiting for him to show up after all of the years.  Fruitlessly he asked around, hoping, even though he knew the chances were slim to none, that he would find answers.<br/><br/>Once again he was met with nothing but disappointment, nothing but more questions.  It was crushing, destroying his hopes.  It was another experience which made him feel as if he would never find him, that he would never have the answers he had wanted for so long.<br/><br/>Going back to school had been the only bright spot in his days.  The much needed distraction was what he needed, to throw himself into his studies and Quidditch, where his troubles and frustrations could not bring him down as much.  It was all he could think about through the gloom and frustration of his summer, the bright light at the end of the dark tunnel.<br/><br/>The ride from the hostel seemed long when he had his thoughts and frustrations with him.  When he finally arrived to the carriage, handing off his trunk to the attendants of the carriage, he climbed aboard, his broom case tucked under an arm with his owl sleeping soundly in it's cage.  The carriage was new to him, having been used to the carriage in Brussels and the familiar faces there.<br/><br/>He had found a seat near the middle of the carriage, tucking his broom-case in the overhead compartment before sitting down and staring out the window, wishing he was as far away from Lyon as possible.