For the Net-Gen Drabble Tag!
Albus Severus Potter. Owls.
His teeth were gritted, his jaw clenched. It was a bit funny; he never usually had his face set this hard.
But it was not funny enough to make him laugh and drop his stone facade.
He couldn't even see himself ever laughing again; this had been the final blow that had tipped him over the edge.
So he focused on the dark clouds instead of listening to everyone's oh-so helpful words, and he wished he was one of those owls that was thrown around in the storm like leaves.
Then he would only have to focus at staying alive.