A/N: Okay, general, in this chapter there is use of the movies as canon for their uniforms, as if you didn't get that already from the other chapter, and as the title says some meetings or two. I have to tell you too, that since I am taking exams for a while, the updates are going to be really separated. Hope you don't mind, bear with me for explanations and like this chapter.
Disclaimer: I can't say it enough, plot and the kids are mine, nothing else.
~*~*~*~
A Series of Meetings
When last anyone had officially entered number twelve, Grimmauld Place, it was shortly after the war and Harry's disappearance. The demise of the Dark Lord meant that further official meetings of the Order of the Phoenix were soon to end, the absence of the owner meant that going there felt inappropriate and eventually it was closed off, for good. Unofficially however, no sooner than had the Order left the old home of the proud House of Black, than a new series of meetings began.
These meetings had nothing at all to do with Dark Wizards, Death Eaters or even the upkeep of the house. They were not focused on finding the owner, or selling the furniture or even reunions for old time's sake.
No, these meetings focused entirely on something else.
What were they to do about a pair of identical twins?
Lupin was barely down to the cavernous, basement kitchen of the strange, dark house, when Mrs Weasley's voice came up to him, "When did Amaranthe die?"
He stopped a moment, startled at the sound of her voice, and then continued down, "Two weeks ago."
Another voice, a man's, asked, though without appearance of concern, "Where are the children?"
Lupin went over to main table and heavily sat down. Orange-yellow, the lights of the fire someone had started cast eerie dark shadows round the room and made the hanging pots and pans illusionary instruments of torture. On him, he was quite sure they emphasized the dark rings round his eyes and the lines on his face though he was still much too young for them properly. He took a moment to savour the warmth, and replied, "They should be at Hogwarts now, Nymphadora said that the Ministry received a French mistress and two schoolgirls yesterday, last night the mistress went back alone."
Silence greeted this answer, the three present allowing it to descend, before Mrs Weasley asked, "Where did they go?"
"According to Professor McGonagall, Julia… Aimee… to Gryffindor…" began Lupin, but was soon cut off by Mrs Weasley.
"Wonderful! I knew it! Just like her family!" she exclaimed happily.
Lupin continued, "And Maia to Hufflepuff."
Mrs Weasley's face, even in the poor light, visibly fell. The second man, Snape, said then without a hint of amusement, "I should have expected as much, Potter would have fit right in there himself…"
Lupin didn't let him finish, "I can assure you-not that anything is wrong with Hufflepuff-from what Professor McGonagall recovered from Beauxbatons both girls are of reasonable intelligence, courage and ability. They were just above average in all their First Year classes."
Mrs Weasley put in, "Just like their mother… a-and Hufflepuff is a house dedicated to hard work and fairness…. But it's unfortunate they were separated, they're twins. They should always be together."
"I say this respectfully, madam," began Snape, "but if they're anything like your sons we should be glad they've been separated. Hogwarts may have stood through centuries and wars, but one moment of stupidity, or two, could destroy it in an instant."
Mrs Weasley said nothing, but her eyes narrowed at him. There was a double meaning to that sentence she did not like.
Lupin broke the tension, "There's something else… a letter… their father's will… or Last Will more appropriately, is why they're here now. After Amaranthe died, a letter came to the school stating that the girls were to return to England upon the death of their guardian if they were not yet of age. A copy was sent to the Ministry… its Harry's handwriting…."
Gasping, hands flying to her mouth, Mrs Weasley asked, "Does-does this mean… that he's… that he's alive…?"
Lupin shook his head, "It was not dated… but I do recall Harry writing a series of letters, before the twins were born… I thought they were to Hermione… but…"
"Potter was making his preparations… I'm impressed, (again with no emotion so that it was hard to believe) I did not think it possible he had the mental capacity to do so… what of Miss Granger?" asked Snape.
"Nothing they could find, I believe she didn't think it necessary, after all, not even I knew to the last minute that she was going to part with her children," replied Lupin.
"It was absolutely necessary, the moment they slipped and the Dark Lord got wind of the children's existence they would be dead… or worse…" said Snape gravely.
"What's worse than losing your life to that monster?" asked Mrs Weasley, turning to arch an eyebrow.
"Being raised to hate… and to kill…" replied Snape coldly. His dark eyes took on a blankness that hadn't been there moments before, "He might have killed them at once, but Potter's children would have had certain… advantage… to him. Trophies, on one hand, meant to humiliate, and pupils, on the other, meant to be as wicked as he for as long as they were useful."
"Children are our immortality…" said Mrs Weasley absently.
Both men spared her a momentary glance, before Snape said, "This development, Amaranthe's natural… (Lupin nodded) death, certainly complicates matters… this entire thing is going to unravel before we have any time to control it. How much do the twins know? How much did Amaranthe think necessary to tell them when they started getting curious? For that matter, where is Miss Granger in all this, her memories?"
"I gave her an album… for her birthday…" said Mrs Weasley suddenly, and still in that absent way.
Both men now snapped attention to her immediately, "What?" asked Snape.
"Photographs… but she seemed to remember nothing, focusing only on Harry's picture and seeing nothing else," she replied, somewhat sadly.
"Why ever would you do something as foolish as that?" asked Snape.
She looked up to him with the hint of tears glinting in her eyes, "Because no mother should forget-be made to forget-her children. Because it's been eight years since last we saw a Death Eater or even had an attack. Because the girls are twelve years old, they need their mother now more than anything. Because the moment the war was finally over we should have re-introduced her to her children, made her remember them as much as we made her forget. Because…"
"We had no hand in that!" declared Snape in a low, reproaching voice.
"But we made no attempt to stop it did we…?" she demanded. "We could have told her instead of letting her marry that Quidditch player and move away? What if Harry is alive and Krum hadn't died? What if she had married him in England instead of Bulgaria? What would you have told her at the altar when the ceremony couldn't commence because she was married to another man she had no recollection of? What would you have told her if Harry had showed up in Bulgaria during the Quidditch World Cup and she realised she had two husbands? I don't care for controlling this anymore, I want it to unravel."
"You've made a serious mistake, three innocent people are going to be hurt at the end of this and their names are Aimee, Maia and Caspar, in addition to your youngest son and daughter. The moment the truth is known, everything is going to change for them, mentally and physically. Do you know how much they would pay to kill his child?" warned Snape.
"A long time ago I would have cared, but Ron is married to Luna Lovegood with a child, and happily so and Ginny is engaged. They've moved past that. Aimee, Maia and Caspar are half-siblings who do not know each other, I think the time for their introductions is long overdue. And as for their safety, what are we all? Dead? Harry's children will be in danger regardless. If someone finds out first… they could hurt them and no one would know why!" replied Mrs Weasley, her voice now bordering on shrilly.
Lupin cut in, "Molly… I…" He paused a moment and then continued, "I can't say that I disagree with you. She's right; we should let them know of each other… we've delayed too long."
Snape's face became an expressionless mask, and he replied, "Fine, but I suggest you be quick about it. Potter's children are at Hogwarts now, and if they're anything like their father it shouldn't take too long for everyone to know their secret."
Mrs Weasley sighed, seemingly unsatisfied even in her victory, and said, "I was lying before when I said I didn't care though… I'll care if they can't forgive us."
~*~*~*~
After ten full minutes of determinedly ignoring the bell of the front door, Draco Malfoy finally decided to answer it. And when he did he had every intention of giving his unwelcome visitor a piece of his mind. Didn't anyone care that he didn't want to speak to them?
But once the door was open the words died in his throat. Standing on the front steps, after fourteen years, were two people he never thought he would see again, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.
Both were obviously older, Pansy, still pug-faced and dark-haired had become slightly rounded, but covered this flatteringly in expensive clothing and jewels. Blaise, had grown distinguished, even more handsome in his fine suit, and stood tall behind Pansy with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Both wore heavy cloaks despite the warm weather, chatting with ease, and had stood expectantly for him to open the door.
Due to his shock, and aforementioned irritation, none was forthcoming.
Neither then waited for further invitation before stepping past the threshold into Malfoy Manor and beginning to remove their cloaks.
It took Draco only a moment to recover now, and sputter, "W-what are you two do-doing here?"
Pansy replied casually, "We heard rumours; we want to know if they're true. Are you "courting" that Mudblood down the street?"
"You mean Granger?" asked Draco, stupidly.
"No, she means one of the Creevey brothers, of course she means Granger!" snapped Blaise, glaring at him.
Draco glared back, realised how childish that was and said, "No, I'm not, I won't be caught dead within two feet of that-that… woman!"
"Oh, is it `woman' now?" asked Pansy, nastily. "Are you going to be calling her Hermione, Hermy or `Mione next too?"
"Don't be stupid Parkinson!" snapped Draco, "I haven't seen Granger since she moved here; she's playing the `reclusive widow'."
"Have you seen the boy? Her son, what's his name? Connor? Castle? Something with a `C'…?" Blaise asked.
"Caspar… and no, I haven't seen him other than in those pictures in the paper. Why do you want to know this?" he asked, getting annoyed as he grew accustomed to their presence. "You know I wouldn't associate with those kinds of people… Father would turn over in his grave… or hell… or wherever they sent him after Potter left him to the werewolves."
Neither though, seemed pleased with this answer.
This irked him more, "What? Did I do something wrong? Can't say I'm sorry for it though, I don't follow the Powers-That-Be anymore. I want to live."
Blaise then began, "I would have thought you to want a trophy? Or at least revenge?"
"What?" asked Draco, confused, and then it dawned on him, "Are you insane? Have you both forgotten the existence of Weasel? Hell, Potter's many other `friends' nowadays? And haven't they already had their trophy, no Scarhead to parade?"
"I don't agree with it either, Draco," said Pansy. "But you have to look at it rationally. How better to seal their humiliation than to have a former Death Eater actively seeking their heroine? The sensation it would cause, the…"
"The shortened lifespan, the constant attention when all I want is a little peace, the wrath of Granger, Weasel and those people helping them who know werewolves-worse than Greyback mind you-Aurors, Ministry officials…? `I have to look at it rationally?' I didn't betray those bastards to become their poster boy to celebrate Potter's absence!" he declared. Then after a moment added, "You know what; I think you two should leave, you've disturbed me long enough."
"I don't think we're finished…" protested Blaise, but Draco had had enough.
"I think we are… no, I know we are… after all this time, to come back now to ask me to become some kind of gigolo… I'm thirty-one, not twenty-one, I have priorities!" he said and threw their robes at them.
"Yes, you do, to everyone who died in the war fighting for the cause!" declared Pansy.
Draco looked at her then as if he had never seen her before, and said, "Be careful Parkinson, or you're going to become just as crazy as my `dearly departed' aunt. I owe those who died nothing, didn't you hear me before? I betrayed them and you! I don't care for any causes, I don't care for any wars and I don't care for you, now leave!"
Blaise began to make for his living room, saying, "Fine then, it was just a joke. Do you actually think we would come back after all these years to ask you to do something ridiculous like that? Why Draco, you have changed. I'm done playing `junior Death Eater'; I couldn't take the mark in the first place…"
Draco didn't catch the punch line, and he was very serious about their leaving. Pansy began to join Blaise in the living room though, and he knew they weren't going to.
Blaise was speaking again, "How about we just `catch up' instead, it's a Sunday afternoon, Rhiannon's at school, my wife's… somewhere, I don't know-oh by the way, I'm married with a daughter, Slytherin-Pansy's got no other place to go… we know you don't…."
Draco wanted to rage but didn't. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. He just stood as they settled onto his sofas, looked around for a house-elf or drinks, conjured a few iced glasses of wine when they didn't see either, and waited for him to join them.
He didn't.
Blaise began, "Here's something to break the ice, my daughter reported that they're two new students at Hogwarts, a pair of twins transferred from France… that French school… whatever."
"I've read the papers, `British-Born French Students Transfer to Hogwarts!' What does this have to do with me?" asked Draco, annoyed.
"Oh nothing, just `spreading the gossip'…" he said casually, "But she did say that when they were going off to bed, she saw their trunks. What was stamped on them should interest you."
"I don't think I care," said Draco.
Pansy smiled at him, "Oh you will, it was `Toujours Pur', the crest of some family of yours, the House of Black if I'm not mistaken."
Draco rolled his eyes and yawned at them both, "One of my late uncles… the convict, blood traitor… Sirius left everything to Potter when he died. In Sixth Year someone started selling things from the house… it was probably something from there… Grandmother Black must be turning in hell with Father…"
He smirked to himself at this, but the others didn't. Blaise continued, "You see, we're not so sure about that. One, the trunks were new, and two, the girls' name is Black. And before you even say it, they're not Muggle-born."
Draco tried his best to look uninterested as he asked, "And how does your daughter know that?"
"Simple," Blaise replied, "they told her."
Draco scoffed, "Just like that, are they Slytherins too?"
"No, one is a Gryffindor and the other's a Hufflepuff, but they were raised in France," said Blaise, as if this was some form of explanation.
Draco missed it completely, "And…? I think you should be concerned that your daughter is talking to a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor."
"McGonagall's, and that blood traitor Weasley's doing, the Houses have a lot more joint classes and some other propaganda to `foster inter-House relations'. Almost every other weekend the students are mixed up in the Great Hall for dinner so they can talk to each other. As luck would have it, Rhiannon got to sit with Aimee and Maia." Blaise explained.
"Who?" Draco asked, all prior irritation gone.
"That's their names," said Pansy, "Aimee and Maia Black."
"As I was saying, she got to sit with them and they talked, of course, everyone else at the table wanted to talk to them too… but with the Hufflepuff in the basement, we are partially guaranteed information… if you want it?"
"What do I care for two little girls…? I don't know your daughter, I haven't seen you two in years, and all of sudden you come here wanting to share? Joking about me after that woman and acting like the moment I disappeared you didn't abandon me as dead?" demanded Draco, his irritation returned at Blaise's preposition.
Pansy came to him with softened voice and an innocent smile, "Draco… all we want is to help you get back out into the world again. You've been locked up in here too long… Potter's dead, his friends are distant, if anything, we just don't want us to become like them."
"I don't want trouble," Draco said seriously, looking away from her, "and you two are bringing it."
~*~*~*~
As he had predicted, Ron found that by Monday morning all talk of the twins had faded away and the school resettled itself. In fact, when next he would see either sister it would be in the first class of the morning, coincidentally a joint one with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.
Seated up front in black Hogwarts robes-lined dark red for the Gryffindor, Aimee, and dark gold for the Hufflepuff, Maia-they arrived before much of the class and stood when he entered the room. Remembering the Beauxbatons delegation in Fourth Year, he told them, "Good morning girls… um, you don't have to do that here."
They blushed slightly and sat down. Their black hair was loose now, cascading their shoulders like veils, splashed gold in the light coming through the windows of the room. They had the appearance of being thoroughly scrubbed, powdered and perfumed, the perfect little ladies. It was also a bit annoying that they looked so bright and perky when Ron had fought to awaken moments before.
Maia spoke first, (he had to love this separation thing) saying, "Merci, bonjour professeur, did you have a good weekend?"
For the fact that this was the first time in three years a new student didn't immediately ask him some Second War-related question on the first meeting, he had to arch an eyebrow at her. She appeared unfazed however, and even unconcerned that she should be gushing over his friendship with the Great Harry Potter right then instead of minding his weekend. He replied eventually, "It was fine, thank you, and yours?"
Aimee spoke up, "Wonderful, our housemates showed us around the whole school, but not the forest, they said it was forbidden… can you believe that? I mean, what is the point of having a forest on the grounds and then tell everyone that they can't go into it, it's an open invitation."
Immediately assuming teacher-mode, Ron said, "Miss Black, it is not an open invitation, there are… dangerous… things in that forest."
She had the grace to flush red at this, but said bravely, "Even more of a reason to go in there, imagine that… Daddy said that he could barely keep himself out of it…"
"Aimee!" her sister suddenly exclaimed and her mouth clamped shut mid-sentence.
He had to wonder what had just happened there, but chose to ignore it, warning, "I'm hoping I won't hear about you two wandering into the forest anytime soon… will I?"
Both girls shook their heads, and then Maia started again, "So, we have some questions…"
Ron stopped her at once, "If any one of them have anything to do with my friendship with Harry Potter, Harry Potter, or any rumours you've read in the rags they call papers these days about Harry Potter, I won't answer."
Both girls though, looked affronted.
Aimee protested, "We were not going to ask you anything about Harry Potter."
"You didn't let me finish," added Maia.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed, and then still sceptical, he stopped, "Oh… okay… sorry…."
"That's quite all right," said Maia with dignity, and at that moment Ron was struck with the uncanny reproduction of Hermione in Fifth Year. Continuing, she asked, "We just want to be clear on some things, are all our classes joined?"
School-related-this furthered his embarrassment-but he replied, "Uh… no, sometimes you have classes with Ravenclaw or Slytherin and sometimes it's just one House."
"Okay…" said Maia, they both took this in a moment, and then Aimee asked, "Where's the Owlery?"
"Upstairs… but you don't have an owl… I saw a cat…?" asked Ron, wondering if he had missed something.
"Socrates… no, we don't have an owl, but if we needed to use one it would be good to know where it is," said Maia.
"Right… tallest tower, northernmost… just follow the stench… there are school owls up there you can use," he told her.
Aimee had taken out a quill, finest eagle feather, and quickly wrote down the directions, though she did pause at the word "stench" and smiled. The sight of the quill though, drew Ron's attention to the twins' uniform.
Not one inch, from the striped ties round their necks to the shoes on their feet spelled Madam Malkin's. There was a touch of luxury to it that Ron normally accorded to Malfoy and other wealthy students, with the exception of Harry, when he had been going to school. The effect actually added to the `little lady' appearance of the girls so that he wondered what his mother would think if she met them. Their father, or whoever had purchased their robes, had gone for the best.
The handiwork of Mme Fontaine no doubt, if he thought about it.
Maia was speaking again, they seemed to take turns, "About the Quidditch teams, are any looking for players?"
Now this was Ron's kind of question.
He replied quickly, "I don't know how it worked at Beauxbatons, but here you can only play for your Houses' teams. Gryffindor doesn't really need anyone… maybe a new team altogether… (He whispered this) but Hufflepuff's always looking for new talent. (He suppressed his amusement) What kind of brooms you have, I saw Hagrid bringing them in…"
"Silver Arrows," said Aimee.
Ron was about to tell her that they had discontinued making those brooms a long time ago, when Leonard Jewkes, as sole producer, couldn't meet the demand. But his thoughts cleared immediately when he remembered that the company that had produced the Firebolt had recently purchased Mr Jewkes' plans and remade the brooms, naming them the Silver Arrow II.
He sputtered then, "Silver Arrow IIs, those are the best brooms under professional level you can get… and they're in limited supply like the Firebolt was… they're… how did you two get one… a pair?"
"Papa had Tantie Marie get them for our birthday this year, when we came home they were waiting for us," Maia explained, and then both sisters saddened.
It was then that Ron remembered their recently departed aunt; he tried to change the topic, "Any other questions?"
The girls recovered, and Maia, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, asked, "How do you get stuff delivered here… from Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. We heard about them from this boy, Philippe Weasley, and he said that you would know…?"
Ron narrowed his eyes at the mention of his nephew, smart and dedicated he may be but Philippe had a tendency to mischief. He told the twins then, "'Stuff' from the Weasley joke shop is banned here in Hogwarts, you're not allowed to have anything of theirs delivered…"
"But Philippe had some of the Puking Pastilles, he gave them to…" said Aimee and once more her sister cut her off.
But this time, Ron had to note, the silencing was put-on. He was quite sure that they had had every intention of telling him about Philippe's clandestine operation.
There was a moment of silence then, and Ron replied, "Anything ordered is delivered as normal to you once you clearly state your address, in this case, name, house, and the school. Once it passes Filch… Mr Filch's inspection, it will come to you. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
Aimee made another note, Maia spoke up, "Um… do-do you know anything about Mrs Hermione Granger-Krum…?"
When he made to protest to this line of questioning, Aimee joined in, "Nous pardonnez, we know you said that you won't answer anything about Harry Potter, but this isn't about Harry Potter. We only asked because we know you're her friend-well, that's what everyone tells us-and we were there when her husband died in that game… Tantie Marie took us… we saw everything… is she all right?"
How cute, they had managed to side-step his protest. And for some reason, instead of refusing, he replied, "She's fine, I saw her on Monday for her birthday, and she seems to be doing all right. Going for a job at St Mungo's… you're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"
The girls shook their heads, and then Aimee asked, "What's she going to do there? I want to be a Healer too… is it going to be in ordinary Spell Damage or worse things?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask," said Ron, and then felt rather ashamed for it. He continued, "I have a question of my own though, I know that you've only just got here, but… do you have any relatives here that we can contact? Anyone we should inform that you've gotten to England… your mother, another aunt, uncle perhaps?"
The girls became even more solemn, and Maia replied, "Our grandparents are dead, both sides… and our mother… well, I don't know…. But we have some Muggle relatives, our mother's and father's. Our mother's relatives don't know us at all… and our father's don't like us… or know about us either… but we're supposed to go to a house in London for the summer, our father's made all the arrangements."
Ron noted this, and asked, "But still, we need to contact someone and we can't find your father… you're mother's relatives, do you know their names?"
The sisters looked at each other a moment, and one asked, and rather quickly so that he barely heard it, "Houldshay eway elltay imhay?"
It was pig Latin.
"Eway avehay otway," her sister replied.
"Onay eway ontday," protested the first.
"Ehay illway indfay utoay aterlay nywayay," was the rebuttal.
"Fine," was the final word in English and Aimee turned to him, "Puckle, that's all we have, their surname… Tantie Marie didn't talk about them much, but she did tell us their names."
A bit fazed by the display of twin-speak, Ron recorded the name and then asked, "Your surname is Black, when did your father go to school here… it couldn't be after me and I don't remember anyone here with that name while I was…?"
Maia replied quickly, almost cutting him off, "We don't know," and immediately Ron knew it was a lie. Nothing about her or Aimee had betrayed her response, but Ron just knew she was lying.
Well, maybe it had something to do with their conversation of before, and her haste, but he still knew she was lying. He had to wonder why.
Before he could question them further though, a bell sounded through the school, it was time for classes to begin. Ron and the twins looked around, and were surprised that they had been joined by the others while they had been speaking.
The girls gave him a shy smile, he displayed an apologetic one to the rest of the class and began, "Right, today in Defence Against the Dark Arts we're going to learn about basilisks, which is quite fitting if you've… sorry… since you've all heard about my Second Year here."
They all, including the girls, grinned.
~*~*~*~
Sailing on the cool wind of the dark night, the weary brown barn owl made its way to the darkened study of the house. Its journey had been long, the traverse from Scotland marred by freezing, driving rain and a quickly vanished moon. But it had a package to deliver, and until that was done it had to keep going.
The little girls who had sent it on its way had made their instructions clear: "A house by the sea in North England, the study is open to the cliff."
"He should be home, but if not you can just leave the message, don't wait for a reply, we'll get one later."
"If the address is wrong return it to us, we'll have to check it again."
And then their conversation carried off, forgetting the owl still on arm.
"It can't be wrong; it was in Tantie Marie's letter. She told us everything in that letter."
"Tantie Marie was getting old, everything was `Mes petites filles pauvres', she could have made a mistake."
"Sometimes I think you're getting old, you slip up too much."
"You too, have you forgotten the owl?"
"Oh… yeah… fly away little bird, bonne chance, donner notre amour au papa!"
"Oui!" said the other and that was that.
Finally though, its destination appeared in its sights.
It was not really on a cliff, more of a rise in the land before the sea. The house was not a mansion, but large enough so that one could think it was. Neighbours were barely visible but there, cars passed at odd intervals, no one walked the roads and the house it was going to stood silent and dark. No one was home, and it looked for months.
Thankfully, just as the girls had said the window in the study was open. It floated in effortlessly, to the sound of waves from the inky black sea crashing harmlessly onto the shore.
No sooner than had it landed though, than it made to leave again.
Piled in the study as far as it could see, was stack upon stack of dust-covered letters. Newspapers, books and magazines scattered unto the floor, owl droppings littered the windowsill, and a musty smell permeated the air. It was now very clear that no one had been here for months.
Just as it was about to go out the window though, a door opened and it dropped onto the windowsill and turned back. Someone had entered the room.
It was a man, tall, with black hair-possibly mussed from sleep-a pair of bright green eyes behind round-rimmed glasses and a very odd scar on his forehead. He was dressed as if he had just come in from a business trip, but minus the tie and jacket, and called casually to his visitor, "Hey there… what's that you got there?"
The owl hopped back into the room and perched itself on the desk. The man came over and carefully removed the letter, slipped the owl a treat from his pocket and flipped on a switch. The owl made to go away again but was stopped when the man exclaimed, "You're a school owl… this letter is addressed from the school… wait a moment…!"
The owl remained where it was on the table as the man tore open and read the letter, paused for a time musing over it and then finally scrawled a long letter in return. He revised the letter three times then, before folding, sealing and handing over the finished product, with ten Galleons in tow and a treat for the owl.
As the owl hopped to the window again the man said, in halting French, "Dire mes filles, bonne nuit."
It didn't seem to matter that the owl couldn't speak.
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