Very late in the evening


He startled awake. One of the boys in the dorm was having a coughing fit, though it soon died down. Feliks sat in bed a while longer and failed to recall the threads of his dream; having grown up most of his life in one place, sometimes he was surprised to find himself here. The curtains of his bed were drawn close so he drew his wand to cast a weak Lumos.

Feliks had fallen asleep on the duvet without meaning to, clutching Johann's latest letter[1] to his chest. The postcard that preceded it was already taped to a place of honour on his headboard, alongside one of papa's photos of a Hungarian Horntail.

He reread the letter, smiling unabashedly. There was guilt beneath his smile. Feliks drew open the bed curtain as quietly as he could and put the letter on his nightstand, to answer later. Then he waited in silence, listening to make sure everybody was asleep. They seemed to be.

The thing was, he had done two stupid things. He had hid the medallion he received by owl. He also had not told anyone about sending a note back[2] by the same owl. Reading Johann's letter made him want to come clean. Only... Johann was proud of him for acting sensibly. Surely he would be angry if he found out what Feliks had hidden?

Even so, he had to find out if there was a reply.

1.	Unfriendly Owls
2.	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." - On This Boy's Mind

Feliks threw on one of his oversized Quidditch jumpers and took a moment to alter his appearance so that he resembled the awful Bobbie Childs. It was a good imitation, certainly one that would pass in the dim halls if he were to be glimpsed. He left the dorms in his socks - and slipped out of the common room, where an older housemate had dozed off before the fireplace.

Hogwarts at night seemed bigger, or at least it seemed like it took twice as long to reach the Owlery than it normally would. When he did, the tower was almost pitch black - a sliver of a crescent could be spotted through the open windows. Feliks lifted his wand to gently light the space.


Feathers ruffled, round eyes reflected the magical glow like luminous moonstones. Only a few owls were in; most were away on letters or snapping up wild mice. He hunted around for the same owl who'd delivered the package, but none resembled it. Finally, after a few moments, a small short-eared owl hopped off its perch in the wall and glided over to him. He held out his arm, where it landed.

A roll of brown paper was tied to its leg. Feliks swallowed nervously, heart thundering in his chest. It was the same paper he had sent. He unrolled it: on the outside was his own handwriting, his eager question. The young wizard turned it over.


It was not written but formed by letters cut out from a newspaper. He was disappointed - he wanted a real answer. Feliks sighed and sat down at the window. The little owl took off just then, into the sky.

He reached into his sweater collar to take out the silver medallion, rubbing his thumb over his mother's engraved name. Stay alert. Trust no one. Why would somebody tell him that? Somebody who probably killed a werewolf? Feliks thought of Greer and Temple, then of Greyfriar. None of them meant him harm. They were all sad and pathetic at the SAWS meetings, especially the girls.

Feliks decided he didn't like the note. He rolled it up and pocketed it, looking out across the grounds. Spindly treetops stuck out, the dark silhouettes of the Forbidden Forest against the highlands. It was nice.

The boy stayed a little longer, thinking about how the school felt more like home than Siberia had done, and almost as homely as Edinburgh. He got up to leave before he started nodding off again. Tomorrow he would think about replying to Johann's letter.