"Mmm," Ominis thought for a minute, trying not to burst into laughter. "Oh, this one is hilarious."
"Fill me in."
"Remember the first time when you offered me help with flying?" James' ears went red. And Ominis continued, "Sebastian introduced us at...
Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou télécharger une autre image.
The light chill wind lazily puffs through the covered window. It touched the only messy thing in the room — a batch of chaotically opened letters. Atop the stack, a letter adorned with elegant, curling script stated:
"James,
It has been quite some time since I received your last owl. Did you happen to receive my letter? I believe you didn't. My beloved siblings care to find another way to annoy me this time. So they intercept some of my correspondence.
But I have big news to share with you.
My father told me that the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, an old friend of his, was so disappointed upon receiving a letter from Professor Kogawa regarding Black's dismissive attitude towards Quidditch that he wants it back this year. I can't believe Black said it is just a silly game.
Not that I am a fan, but he was completely out of line that day.
Nevertheless, I thought you would be thrilled to hear that. With Greig's graduation, everyone is convinced that you will be the next captain. You were meant to become one years ago. After all, you were the Keeper for five years and you're natural. I have always said so.
I thought you should know this as soon as possible. It's a pity we didn't cross paths in Diagon Alley; I could have told you sooner. Meet you at Hogwarts.
Yours sincerely,
O."
Next to the letter was a torn seal with an intricate family coat of arms. Behind it was a list of new subjects. The package felt noticeably heavier than the previous year's. Although professors say that the hardest is behind.
The rest of the room was perfectly clean. You can even say unnaturally clean, despite the fact that its occupant for sixteen years was a teenage boy. By the way, who was now lying on the bed and staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.
He looked as if he had finally been blessed with an absence of thought. Some might envy such a respite.
There was no sound in the room, only a sleepy clatter from the street. It was already ten, but the house was still empty. Except for James, who was now snoring with his eyes still open. But it's hard to count him since he grew roots into the bed.
Suddenly, the sound of the open front door cut the sleep, jolting James awake. The little spots swirled around his eyes because of such a sudden awakening.
He rose to his feet and mechanically descended the stairs to the ground floor.
"Hi", he drawled, still trying to shake off the remains of sleep, addressing the man's back.
"I noticed you did a good job cleaning the yard", the man replied, still with his back turned as he hung up his robe.
There was no need to respond. It was in his father's habit to drop comments like that every now and then. "I expect you've done all your essays already?" "You cooked dinner." "You passed all your O.W.L grades." "You are a fair Keeper, James, but you could be more."
