"Morning," Alexander said supressing a yawn behind his hand. Rubbing his eyes he placed an empty bowl in front of himself. He scooped out oatmeal from the bigger bowl and after suppressing another large yawn he poured a large amount of treacle into the bowl. At least he thought it was treacle.
"Eugh," he said pushing the bowl away from him. He had accidentally placed a liberal amount of malt vinegar on the oatmeal. Those that had been sitting around him roared with laughter at this and Alexander joined in as well.
Just as the rowdy group calmed down and returned to their breakfasts and conversations. Alexander placing safe scrambled eggs and sausage onto his plate. A flutter of wings had brought him to look back up, the eggs and sausage left forgotten as hundreds of Owls swooped down, some dropping their post as if it was about to explode, other owls including Alexander's flew down and sat down at the table.
"Pickle," Alexander greeted the Owl,
"News from father and mother?", he slowly picked at the knot that had been tied to secure the envelope to the Owl. Alexander could tell it was his mother's writing. He undid the knot and after an affectionate hoot, the Owl swooped up and flew up to the ceiling where she'd undoubtedly fly through one of the open windows, designed for Owls to enter and leave through.
Wondering what was in the letter, Alexander grabbed a sharp knife and slit the letter open. The letters and ink was his mother's and he knew that this couldn't be any welcome news.
Alexander Andrew Sowerby,
We have arranged with your Head of House, Mr. Hart. For you to stay at the School for the last infernal week of December. Do not come home. You are not needed nor wanted. We are too busy. We have no time nor energy to have Doge and Bunce watch over both you, your sister and brother.
Signed
Mother
His eyes filled with tears as he felt someone sit right beside him. Blinking the tears away he folded the letter and put it lovingly in the pocket of his robes. He knew that his eyes would be extremely bright when someone would look at him, and perhaps the slight pink tinge in his cheeks would be a give-away, but he couldn't care right now. He could always say he was getting the flu. One way or another he absent mindedly faced the person who just sat down.
"
Hello" he said.
Edited by Alexander Sowerby, 28 October 2011 - 10:24 PM.