It was mid morning when the mail owl swooped into Level Two, and found its way to the Auror Headquarters. It squawked loudly, feathers ruffled, a piece of crumpled parchment tied to its leg much too tightly and intricately to be easily unbound.

The owl fluttered furiously around the auror office. It had no idea who the letter was meant for, the only address on the parchment saying "Level Two, Ministry of Magic". Finally the owl settled on the side of a cubicle, angrily preening its feathers. It glared at anyone who dare approach.

It was not going to be a good day for this owl. It would take at least two of the witches and wizards to retrieve the note attached to its leg- at least one to hold the bird and the other to cut or untie the string. Unless, of course, they dared to use a spell for it- which might likely sever the leg of an owl as crotchety and obviously upset as this one.

The letter it carried had no signature on it. The scrawl upon it was barely legible, and looked to be written either by a young child or someone who had no control over their own hand as they penned it.