apples and scented candles • h.potter ✓

• ten •

When Corben arrived home and went to his bedroom, there was a familiar tawny owl perched on his bed, pecking at his pillow. He stopped short, a sharp pang shooting through his chest. He didn't make any move, but upon hearing his footsteps, the owl turned to him and gave a friendly hoot. As he had expected, a small wrapped package lay in front of it, and an envelope.

Exhaling a sharp breath, he turned away and went to the bathroom, taking his sweet time to shower and change. Then he went to the kitchen and fetched a biscuit and a small platter.

Mocha the owl hooted angrily as he came and sat down on the bed. Corben broke off a small piece from the biscuit, crumbled it and served it to the bird on the platter. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he apologised, stroking its head. Mocha sulked for a moment, before accepting the treat.

Corben picked up the envelope and placed the package on his lap. It was prettily wrapped with glossy paper, finished off with a pink ribbon. The envelope smelled of something sweet – he sniffed, but couldn't quite make out what it was.

Mocha finished the entire biscuit and flew out through the open window. Corben watched until the bird became a dot before disappearing in the  sky, and finally allowed himself to tear the envelope and extract its contents.

A cream coloured paper fell out. In very familiar, very elegant handwriting, were written a few words:

Dearest Corben,

You haven't paid a visit in a long time. I don't feel there should be the need to say it – I'm sure you know it – but I do miss you a lot. Richard has been asking a lot about you and your brother after I have revealed to him that I have children, and he has expressed his wishes to meet you.

I am arranging a dinner on the tenth, and it would be my utmost pleasure to have you there.

That being said, I have sent a little present for you. I am certain it will catch your interest.

Hope to see you on the tenth.

With love,
Mother

Corben stared at the signature at the bottom. The entire letter was written in small words, with no unevenness, no error, no scratch. No emotions. It could easily be mistaken as a printed letter.

The signature was the only indication that his mother has, indeed, taken the time to sit down and write a letter for him, that she has dipped her quill into one of the expensive inkpots taken from her collection, and has inscribed those words into the crisp parchment, before signing it off with her perfect signature – with the same curls, the same thickness at the same places. It comforted Corben to know that his mother has at least put some effort into something for him.

He crumpled the letter between his fists and tossed it aside. Then he reached for the present.

The ribbon came off easily, but he couldn't tear open the wrapper. After some futile attempts, he realised that perhaps she has used magic to wrap it up. So he pulled out his wand and uttered a spell. The wrapper fell open easily.

Inside was a cardboard box. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled it open. He was met with something crystalline, the surface reflecting light into his eyes. As he put his hands in to pull it out, a transparent cover, rippling like water, broke and disappeared into the air – a protective charm that his mother must have placed to prevent damage.

It was beautiful – that he couldn't deny. It was a crystalline structure of a whale, translucent and glittery. The edges sparkled as they caught the light, and it looked as though it was made of a million balls of light strung together. Corben wondered if his mother had placed some magic on it to make it look such – she probably has.