Dear boys,
I don't have a lot of parchment and I'm not sure where exactly the post office is quite yet and I still need to send a note to Star and I don't know if owls will carry regular muggle paper in a regular muggle envelope—what if the weight throws them off or something? I don't have any idea about these things, there's still so much I don't know—but it's been a great holiday! It's just my dad and me here, so it's been kind of quiet, really, but it's not the bad sort! I've got a few new muggle books that I know you'll scoff at when I bring them back in my trunk, because who wants to read about girls two hundred years ago? Ah, that's right, I do.
Anyway, you'll have to send me a note back as soon as you can because I miss you like crazy! I know it's only a week and a bit before we're back in school, but tell me all about your mum and dad and your sister and brothers!
Love from,
Ever.
Dear Star,
I've just gotten around to picking up a pen and paper, and I don't really know what to write now that I've gotten here. Christmas at home has been...alright, but it's quite lonely without Mum, and I don't know what to write to make you less lonely without yours. I wish I knew the spell to make little drawings and things move, but even if I did I wouldn't be able to use it, so I suppose it doesn't matter. I can doodle things on the margins for you, though, and I'm sending you some of the chocolate that was in my stocking this year because I've heard that chocolate makes everything better, and I can't exactly disagree. AND, this chocolate doesn't bounce about on you when you open the package! There are no cool cards to collect with it, though, sorry about that. Anyway, I was thinking—you know what I told you about writing letters to my mum? Well, I don't know if that'll help you, but you could always write letters to me. We could pass them back and forth in the hall and stuff, and maybe that would help, just getting everything you feel down on paper. My mum wrote in journals and then ripped out the pages and burned them to get rid of the bad things. Maybe getting rid of the bad this way could help. I don't know. Maybe that's stupid. I miss you terribly.
Love from,
Ever.
On Monday morning, after her dad had left for work, Ever scribbled a quick note—gone out to find the post office for witches and wizards, be back by lunch if all goes well, love you loads, Ever, little heart—and slipped out of her house with two small rolls of parchment in one pocket of her jeans and a few knuts in the other, hoping that it would be enough to cover whatever postage fee she may have to pay. It only took her five minutes to walk down the street to the little healer's shop—if that was, in fact, what it was—but once she got there, she couldn't quite bring herself to knock on the door. What if this was all a mistake, and this was just a really strange house that somehow just...had flowers? Ever knew she was being ridiculous, of course it had to be a witch or wizard's house, what else could it be, but it took her a good five minutes of standing at the doorway before she worked up the courage to raise her hand to knock. Before her knuckles touched the wood, the door was open, and there stood a woman—young, pretty, and again Ever was thrown off by just how un-witchy someone in long flowing black robes and a pointy hat could be, without the warts or green skin or the like—smiling kindly down at her.
"Can I help you, dear?" For a moment, Ever couldn't answer; she was transfixed by the woman's hair. It was red, not quite the fire-engine color of the Weasleys, but in the lighting from inside the little cottage, it looked almost...pink.
"Er, sorry, I was just..." The young witch swallowed hard, and the older witch smiled again, gently ushering her inside and out of view of muggle onlookers.
"All the muggles see is a broken down old shack here," the woman explained quietly as she sat her down at the table a promptly placed a cup of tea in front of her, "and it wouldn't do to have a little girl standing in front of that. Someone might call the police and tell them there's a little girl risking asbestos at the end of the lane." Ever managed a smile as the lady plopped two sugars in her tea and a dash of milk, just as she liked it, and conjured a spoon to stir it all together for her. "So, what can I do for you, lovely?"
"What is this place?" the girl asked, staring around in wide-eyed wonder as she took a sip of the tea. There were sculptures all about the front room, sculpted from wires or paper or cardboard...whatever, it seemed, the older witch was able to get her hands on. Some of them moved, creaking back and forth, bending, swaying, while others were stationary. On the counter and mantle, there were mortars and pestles and measuring cups and...it was a strange mix of muggle and wizarding objects. Ever wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
"Well, on my resume," the woman began, taking a seat across the girl with a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee, "it says I'm a healer. In my free time, I make sculptures like those." She nodded to the closest one, a wire sculpture in the shape of a butterfly that was flapping its wings gently. "That's the newest one." When Ever met the woman's gaze—she had very green eyes, brighter than Ever's and her Dad's, brighter than Charlie and Bill's blue—the lady grinned down at her easily, like they'd been friends for a very long time, and the girl couldn't help feeling at ease.
"What's your name?" she asked, sipping on her tea.
"You can just call me Merit, love," said the witch easily, mimicking the little girl. "Now, what is it you came here looking for? Have you got a headache or a stomachache? I wouldn't think you'd come to a healer, not with all the muggle medicine that's probably in your cabinet at home..."
"No, actually, I was...I was hoping you could help me find a post office around here somewhere. My friend, Star, he told me this was probably a healer's house by the way I described it, and—"
"That wouldn't be Star Tellar, would it?"
"Yes!" The girl perked up immediately. "I've just met him at school, you see..."
"Heard about his mother," said Merit, swirling her coffee and staring down into the mug. "Terrible thing. She was a brilliant witch and a brilliant woman. Taught dance for little muggle students. Ballet mostly." There was no condecension in her voice, and automatically Ever found herself liking the woman that much more; when her own mum had died, there had been plenty of that, but every word from this woman's mouth was genuine. She'd actually liked and respected Star's mum.
"Anyway, love," sighed Merit, standing and directing the girl to the door. "To get to the nearest post office, you'll go straight down this street, and at the sign up there you'll turn left. It's just a few blocks down, and you won't miss it, there are owls all in the windows. It takes a knut to send a message if it's just a letter, and if you've got a little present or something you want to attach that's an extra knut—best prices in Cardiff for owl post when you haven't got your own, if I'm honest."
"Thank you," said Ever quietly. "For...everything."
"You're quite welcome, lovely," said Merit, tugging on the girl's ear very gently. "I know it's confusing, being a muggle born girl in the wizarding world, especially the first year or so. You just come back if you need anything, got it?" Ever nodded quickly, smiling up at her before she turned and headed in the direction Merit had directed her.
And, she thought, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans, I will. I definitely will.