Hoot, hoot.
The sudden cry of an owl roused Twiddle from his sleep, the sound cutting through the silence of the cold night air. The exhausted house elf got to his feet with a start, reaching a hand out to steady himself on the old, stone brick walls of Lancaster House. The initial moment of waking disorientation cleared as he realised he had dozed off during his gardening duties, worked to the bone by his current mistress. The Lancasters were a harsher family than the Alicastells or the Summers he had served for so many years prior. There was rarely a moment where the small creature wasn't given a task to perform. Eustacia made sure he was constantly occupied. "The moment you stop being of use to me is the moment I make use of your head as a wall decoration. Now get out of my sight." She'd told him when her daughter had first transferred his service to the elderly witch.
Hoot, hoot.
The sound came again, causing Twiddles large, bat-like ears to twitch. He turned toward of the sound, bulbous eyes now clear and focused. An owl, with brown feathers flicked with white, sat on the window sill overhead, a small white envelope nestled between its sharp beak. The two made brief eye contact before the bird let the envelope flutter down toward the earth. Twiddle was quick to reach out, his thin fingers snatching the letter out of the air. The owl took flight, disappearing over the treeline as the house elves eyes scanned over the rough lettering etched into the back of the paper. It's addressed to Master Sern. Twiddle thought with surprise. The young man residing in the house never received mail, no matter how many times he'd sent letters out. But Twiddle knew that Eustacia would intercept them before they got too far. He was sworn never to mention it to him, however.
Clasping the mail tightly to his chest, pressed firmly against the dirty fabric of the rag he wore as a shirt, Twiddle hurried back into the house, careful not to trip over the Venomous Tentacula that grew so abundantly in the Lancaster Gardens. Sern was the kindest of the wizards and witches that the house elf was surrounded by, and the only person he knew from his previous servitude. Though he was sworn never to tell Sern that his letters were taken, that didn't mean he couldn't show him one. It was the first time anyone had wrote anything back to him in years.
As the house elves tiny feet pattered across the polished floorboards, he had a surge of hope that perhaps Sern would try and leave the house again and perhaps take the elf with him. He hoped Eustacia and the other residents were already fast asleep. Sern however had a tendency to stay up late in the night. One, two, three steps up the spiraling staircase in the main foyer. In a few seconds the creature reached the top step. Sern's room was at the end of the hall, he just had to-
"Oof!" A sudden pain caught him in the chest and he was thrown backwards through the air, the envelope slipping from his clammy grip.
The sudden cry of an owl roused Twiddle from his sleep, the sound cutting through the silence of the cold night air. The exhausted house elf got to his feet with a start, reaching a hand out to steady himself on the old, stone brick walls of Lancaster House. The initial moment of waking disorientation cleared as he realised he had dozed off during his gardening duties, worked to the bone by his current mistress. The Lancasters were a harsher family than the Alicastells or the Summers he had served for so many years prior. There was rarely a moment where the small creature wasn't given a task to perform. Eustacia made sure he was constantly occupied. "The moment you stop being of use to me is the moment I make use of your head as a wall decoration. Now get out of my sight." She'd told him when her daughter had first transferred his service to the elderly witch.
Hoot, hoot.
The sound came again, causing Twiddles large, bat-like ears to twitch. He turned toward of the sound, bulbous eyes now clear and focused. An owl, with brown feathers flicked with white, sat on the window sill overhead, a small white envelope nestled between its sharp beak. The two made brief eye contact before the bird let the envelope flutter down toward the earth. Twiddle was quick to reach out, his thin fingers snatching the letter out of the air. The owl took flight, disappearing over the treeline as the house elves eyes scanned over the rough lettering etched into the back of the paper. It's addressed to Master Sern. Twiddle thought with surprise. The young man residing in the house never received mail, no matter how many times he'd sent letters out. But Twiddle knew that Eustacia would intercept them before they got too far. He was sworn never to mention it to him, however.
Clasping the mail tightly to his chest, pressed firmly against the dirty fabric of the rag he wore as a shirt, Twiddle hurried back into the house, careful not to trip over the Venomous Tentacula that grew so abundantly in the Lancaster Gardens. Sern was the kindest of the wizards and witches that the house elf was surrounded by, and the only person he knew from his previous servitude. Though he was sworn never to tell Sern that his letters were taken, that didn't mean he couldn't show him one. It was the first time anyone had wrote anything back to him in years.
As the house elves tiny feet pattered across the polished floorboards, he had a surge of hope that perhaps Sern would try and leave the house again and perhaps take the elf with him. He hoped Eustacia and the other residents were already fast asleep. Sern however had a tendency to stay up late in the night. One, two, three steps up the spiraling staircase in the main foyer. In a few seconds the creature reached the top step. Sern's room was at the end of the hall, he just had to-
"Oof!" A sudden pain caught him in the chest and he was thrown backwards through the air, the envelope slipping from his clammy grip.