That Hotel Lady
It was a slow day, like every other day. Her hotel certainly was a five-star hotel, but considering the fact she had bought the place with practically nothing, she thought her hotel wasn't all too bad.
She looked out the window; the sky was filled with dark gray, so that she couldn't tell where a cloud began and ended. It was just another gloomy day to fit the people who came to her depressing hotel.
She listened to her employees gossip about the family that came in earlier; an overly obese man with a stick of a wife and a son almost as large as his father. Their other son took after his mother, apparently, made of more bone than meat. She wondered if there was some other relation between them. From the information she gleaned from the murmurs, their ages were close. She sighed as the new girl wondered quietly if the man had a mistress, even as an older girl argued that they probably weren't even related. Tired eyelids dropped.
The exhausted woman jumped when screams erupted from the gossiping employees. She jumped in surprise and looked back up again to see an owl flying towards her, some sort of paper in its claws.
The hotel owner was shocked when it dropped the paper on her desk neatly before flying out the window (she hadn't opened the window, so who had?). More owls swooped in and her employees fled the premises as she stood up, a dark frown on her brows. The middle-aged woman glared at the swarm of incoming owls.
No sound of astonishment escaped her lips; instead, she sat back down again and watched with the air of someone trying to figure something out as the letters on her desk grew.
Slowly, the flood of owls began to cease. Just as she thought they were all gone, one last straggler came fluttering in awkwardly. The speckled gray owl dropped down on her desk and looked at her with a soft hoot before flying off, leaving the last letter on her desk.
Mr. H. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth
The woman frowned at the wax seal before gathering up the letters, taking out rubber bands from her drawer. She took ten and wrapped a rubber band around them. She wasn't cruel enough to make whoever the letter belonged to clean the mess up. Even if the owls had done their best to stack them neatly, it hadn't worked too well.
Once finished (leaving one out so she could show it as proof), she went down to the dining room. She took a second and paused, considering who would most likely be the owner of the… letters. Her eyes landed on a family with two children around the age of eleven (the family her employees ever so helpfully gossiped about in front of her?) and she approached them.
"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."
The boy (the maybe non-relation) made a grab for the letter but his father (or some other kind of relation) knocked the boy's hand out of the way rather harshly.
She watched the beefy man slap the poor boy's hand and thought that something was definitely wrong.
Said man told her he would take them and she debated on whether to give it to him or not. She spares herself a moment to give the family as scrutinizing look before deciding it really wasn't her business and leads the man to her office.
He wobbled to a stop next to her when they reach their destination and she shoved the letters at him. The man managed a strangled smile at her before he waddled away quickly.
She wonders what the man will do with the letters. (She doesn't know that Vernon Dursley will throw the letters away before meeting with his family.)
She sits down in her chair, staring at the empty space on her desk and clicked her pen with a sense of wistfulness.
"'Ope that boy gets to Hogwarts just fine."