It was five, nearly time for the disc of the winter sun to descend. The clouds drifting over Hogwarts were tinged orange and burnt red where they let the light through. Feliks Spectre climbed the slope to the castle - he had just left Uncle Sylvain's hut, a quill tucked behind his ear and clothes grass-stained.

Every weekend, or at least every weekend her could spare from Oma, the young wizard excused himself from indoor adventures to spend a few hours with the groundskeeper, who was his papa's good friend.

Here, he received an odd kind of education. One without much structure: they would tend Sylvain's gardening by the forest, some days, or wander deeper for mushrooms hidden in the shelters of old, collapsing trees. Before the bees went into hibernation last month they looked at their hives, checked their honey. If Feliks asked, they went searching for herbs - fresher, younger herbs than the ones taken to the dungeons for potion lessons.

Today they climbed trees and sat on branches where Sylvain taught him different bird calls. They spoke French when alone, though Feliks was learning to count in Arabic so that he could surprise Johann with this new knowledge in the Spring. As such, his heart was full of good learning, good feelings, by the time he made his way back. He wanted to write a letter to papa like he always did, telling him about his week.

            Th-ump!

The soft sound surprised him and Feliks glanced up in time to see a great owl[1] swooping overhead. He was on a grassy knoll, in full sight of the castle; a brown paper package had been the source of the sound. Feliks glanced about but there was nobody else around - didn't they usually get their mail in the mornings? At breakfast?

He picked up the package and turned it around: no name. The boy wizard sat on the grass then, underneath the closest tree, and unwrapped the package. If it belonged to someone else he would simply deliver it to them but he thought perhaps the owl knew its target. Owls were wise.

1.	19th Feb - O Mother Tell Your Children

The gifts were unmistakeable. Feliks' first instinct on finding the gloves was to slip his hand into one of them - but he recoiled, springing to his feet in the same motion. They were real werewolf hands! He thought that maybe they might be a joke, especially after the fuss he caused at the talk by Ballentyne. But the feel of the leather on the edges, the roughness inside, those were much too real.

It was only when he got up that he noticed the other thing: the little pouch, a silver chain escaping. His heart was racing. He was going to be in trouble! It was like the Tenacious Twine all over again!
 
This time he wasn't going to try and hide it, he decided. Feliks placed the gloves back in the paper before reaching for the pouch. It was heavy. He hesitated,  holding it in one hand, and then he quickly emptied it out on to the palm of his other. The silver medallion was polished well - it caught the late afternoon light brilliantly.

The metal was cool. Perhaps that was what sent a shiver through him; or perhaps it was the winter chill, a breeze racing up from the forest. But he knew it was neither of those. He had seen the name engraved on the medallion. His mother's. His mother was dead. Someone was sending him gifts from her, still.

Somehow... almost as awful as the thought of Ira Almasy was the thought that someone was going to take this away from him.

They had taken the twine, the book. Why did they have to take everything? Wasn't this his to have? Merlin knew how long he stood there. A while, for when he looked up the sun was nearly sunk. Feliks slipped the chain over his head, under his jumper. Then he glanced at the sky and saw the great owl was still there.

He cupped his hands around his mouth to call. The owl came to meet him. Feliks plucked his self-inking quill from behind his ear. He tore off a piece of the brown  paper and scribbled a line in it: "Who are you? Don't write to me. Write to the Owlery." The Owlery was a good idea - one he had gotten from his trip there[1] with Nicola.

There. That was done. Feliks rolled up the note and gave it to the owl. He had to do this all quickly or he wouldn't dare to later. He had to find out who was sending him these presents, and why.

The Slytherin gathered the gloves in the rest of the package paper, bundling them up together before heading straight for the Headmaster's office.

1.	15th Oct - Someone Likes You