Penwick

The picturesque red brick building at the edge of Wyrdlan was, in Luke's opinion, highly deceiving. The window display showing various rare stamps had looked so promising! At last, a shop that took its business seriously! He had imagined someone neat and orderly behind the counter, someone who knew the difference between a misperforated stamp and a miscut stamp, someone who didn't give him odd looks when he asked if they had a penny stamp. The owner, he had thought, would be someone knowledgeable and serious: probably wearing a monocle and a fitted suit, and they would be very keen on talking to him, and they also would be very impressed by how much he knew about stamps.

With his hands folded neatly behind his back and his chin at a hopeful tilt, Luke entered the Post Office, ready to display his vast and detailed knowledge of stamps dating all the way back to the Victorian era.

Perhaps if he had looked down a bit more, he would not have tripped over the large parcel that had been parked near the entrance. He yelped, then immediately jumped back a step when a large barn owl, perched on a crossbeam, hooted loudly at him. There were several more in various corners, none of them caged, and all of them now looking at him with their eerie, gleaming eyes. Startled, Luke took two hasty paces back, ready to flee, but hesitated just long enough for the proprietor to notice him.

"Don't mind them, they means you no 'arm," a voice sounded from the back of the shop. It was rather dark and gloomy inside, but Luke thought he could make out the shape of a man that could have just as well been a walrus, if he'd been a little fatter.

"Harm," Luke corrected stiffly. "Not arm."

The man behind the counter paused his riffling through a stack of letters and looked up. "That's what I said, innit?"

"Is it not," Luke said. "You said arm but you meant to say harm because you did not enunciate properly and-"

"You coming in or what? And close the door, would ya?-"

"You. Would you-"

"-it gets drafty if youse keeps the door open standin' there gawking an' all"

Luke's retort died in his throat. Some people just refused to be educated. Reluctantly, he shuffled into the shop and closed the door behind him. The owls stopped hooting, but they were still staring at him, and a couple of them were rather large and had sharp beaks and talons.

"So what can I 'elp you with? Expecting a package? Sending one? Muggle post just came in this morning." The postman tipped his cap toward one of many piles of letters that had spilled off his sagging desk and onto the floor. Luke honestly couldn't be sure which of the bundles he meant, but nodded anyway, a hopeless attempt to be agreeable.

"Is it always like this?" he piped up after a short while. He scrunched up his nose when he noticed there were a few owl droppings on the beams, though he could not spot any on the stacks of post that almost reached the ceiling.

"What?" said the owner.

"I meant your shop. Is your shop always like this?"

"Aye, we're always busy. People's lazy these days, you wouldn't believe how many cauldrons we get delivered every week, not the small size ones either, I've gotta send out half a dozen owls for the big uns and-"

Luke let out such a deep and profound sigh that the man stopped talking. "That's not what I meant. I meant the state of things. I nearly tripped over that parcel as I came in, I could have seriously injured myself you know."

The man gave him a slightly stunned look, then burst into laughter and smacked him so hard on the back that Luke tripped over his feet and barely managed to stay upright. "Don't touch me!" he hissed through his teeth.

The jovial postman shrugged and mumbled something under his breath about "are you always like this?" while he continued sorting the post, effectively ignoring the tiny blonde nuisance that had entered his shop.

If not for the stamps he'd seen in the window display, Luke would have turned and left. Instead, he briskly walked over to the window, eyeing the stamps up close. Price was no real concern, but whether he wanted to support a business ran by someone so unserious posed a real dilemma. At least the man had been smart enough to place the stamps in this particular window sill, out of direct sunlight, or they would have faded otherwise.

Soon enough, Luke was lost in thought by the window, pondering which of the stamps he would get for his collection. Not even the occasional hoot of an owl could break his concentration. The same, however, could not be said about the two boys who were making their way to the cosy red brick building on the edge of town...