A knock at the door frightened poor Genevieve. She peered out the window and saw Mr. Diagon, the local postman. She wondered what in the world she would be getting. Mother and Father just sent a letter yesterday. Stamp prices were murder in Victoria, she heard in one letter. 13 Euros for a parcel to Ireland! What an outrage. She often looked in free catalogues, but she never ordered anything. It wasn't worth it. Genevieve decided that Mr. Diagon had waited quite long enough and opened the large, oak doors.

"Why, hello, Genevieve! Lovely afternoon isn't it? You look quite fine today. Hey, aren't your parents in New Brunswick? Oh, silly me, that's the Dubraugh family. Uhm… they are in Victoria, are they not? Ah, yes, I remember now. Canadian country they're touring." He rambled. Did he really think she was dumb enough to not realize her parents were in North America?

"Oh, hello Mr. Diagon. Is the package for me?" She cut him off mid thought.

"Well, who else would it be for?" He asked. Duh, Genevieve wanted to say, of course it's mine. She took the parcel from his hands and did a slight salute. The door accidentally slammed. Genevieve opened the door to apologize, but Mr. Diagon was already about three houses down, waving and smiling cheerfully back at her.

Genevieve stared at the package in her normal curiosity. The address was correct, reading 'To: Miss Genevieve Parsley, 3050 Eastbrook Drive, 50672, Dublin, Ireland.' Odd, there is no return address. She tutted the postale units as she delved into the mysterious little parcel.