Owl Post Office https://i.postimg.cc/02FMX4g8/owl-po...ice-banner.jpg Since 1536 the Owl Post Office has been serving the greater London area, by helping you deliver what you need to be delivered. Whether it’s a letter or a package, our owls can do the job. We have five owls who can provide a variety of delivery services. As you head through the foyer inside the Owl Post Office you will notice the newly renovated shop. All new furniture has replaced the old and very dated. |
Open post. Taking a moment between customers, Osric decided since there was a small lull in business now would be the perfect chance to go and feed the owls. Even though the feeders which were there for the customers to use to feed the owls were about half full. That was just treats. The owls loved their treats. It was lunch time in the owlery. As Ozzy made his way over to the doors and slid into the enclosure. Filling each of the owls bowls, tidying up their nest and straightening out there spaces. While he was in there the charmed the broom to start sweeping up the mess of the floor. Of course he had to make sure every area of the Owl Post Office was well kept and tidy. |
Money fresh in her pockets, Oda headed for the post office. Once inside, she sat aside and wrote out her letter in her neatest of handwriting. She needed someone to help her and she needed someone to actually receive her letter. So writing to the castle was a shot in the dark, but she could not think about that. Odaline was alone in every sense of the word and the only place she could call home now was the castle that she hated. Except without her parents around, she had no way of getting back there. No way of getting her supplies. And nowhere to live for the summer. Maybe she could stay at Hogwarts for the summer? Was that allowed? Did the Headmaster live there? Someone, please.. |
Ivanna wandered in to the owl post to see if it would easier to distribute gifts from her visit this way or if she should just pack them in her bags to take with her after the quidditch cup ended. It was quite a predicament. She wanted people to know she was thinking about them and think she was thoughtful -- but at the same time, she did not want to hand deliver anything. That felt like it was quite too much effort. |
He was the only person his age without an owl or bird of some kind to deliver this or that, and Quentin was quite fine with it. He liked walking to the post office, he liked picking up his mail every morning, and he liked the distinct lack of bird droppings in his new flat. It helped matters that his own shop was not at all far from the post office, and so, on his way in and out he could peek right in without fuss. With a fresh copy of a muggle newspaper underarm and a small bag of mini bagels (for himself and Natalie if she cared to partake) in hand, Quentin stepped into the post office and right up to the counter. With a small, irony-filled grin, Quentin bopped the little silver bell and awaited the clerk. |
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Hearing the chime of the bell, Herjenmie gave an affectionate nip and tug on one of the shopkeeper's curls before accosting his earlobe a bit. "Sheesh, Herjenmie. I heard it. I swear," the man chuckled at the owl before making an honest, but in vain, attempt to dry his hands on a rag and remove some of the blackness from his finger tips. He had been attempting to clean up a several ink well spill in one of the cabinet drawers. Grabbing a crimson towel and slinging it over his shoulder just so, Zachaël gave his shoulder a pat to invite the eagle owl to perch on his shoulder while he tended to their latest customer - to which the owl flew over gladly in his wobbly flight pattern. "Salutations," he greeted as he stepped through the fabric divider between the backroom and the front desk - Herjenmie's talons flexing and unflexing on his shoulder while giving a bit of a feathery wiggle. "What can I do you for today?" |
Why was Chloe here, do you ask? Because her cousins were NEVER this unresponsive during the Hogwarts school year. Sure they were teenagers now - fourteen - and probably had other interests that were taking up their time (Read: Probably boys), but surely they wouldn't be ignoring her? If nothing else then to say thank you for the birthday gift they each received. Unless they didn't receive it. Was there a tracking system in place on owl posts? You'd think that would be one of the things the redhead would know. It wasn't as if she was born yesterday. For Merlin's sake, she was nearly thirty - okay, so it was like two years away ...... o.o The man. At the front desk. She hadn't seen him in like ... well, actually she could pinpoint exactly when she last saw him. Her sixth year closing feast. She ought to say something, but suddenly she felt speechless and completely at a loss for why she was even here. Why was she here? And forget about her fourteen year old cousins, because it felt almost as if SHE was the fourteen year old. |
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It was actually Nuria who alerted him to the presence of a customer, his own attention a bit too keenly focused on his instrument as it cut through the wood like a knife through hot butter, nearly nicking his finger from the sharp tug to the collar of his jacket. "We need to work on your people skills," he chuckled to the owl, bopping her head with his own forehead before glancing up over at the woman.....who was staring at him. .......um? Had one of the owls left some dropping in his hair again? He had a bit of a love hate relationship with that - one of the few non-wizard-made products he did not have a heart attack over touching his curls. ".....you all right there?" he inquired warily as he set his tools down, offering Nuria another quick glance while she ruffled her feathers. |
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Why was she here again? Oh right, because she didn't own an owl of her own and communication with family at Hogwarts was key. To be honest, she actually had no interest in owning her own owl ..... but that was besides the point. Taking a step forward, the redhead nodded again, unsure really why but it was automatic. "I need to send a letter. Two letters." Oh good, she found her voice... see, not so difficult. |
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Which the owl did not. So his teeth were fine. "Well, you've come to the right place in case that was a concern," he nodded cheekily, rolling up his sleeves a bit as though he were about to do some real heavy lifting. She had seemed lost...so...small reassurances? "Will that be economy, standard, or express?" |
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"Do you ... have delivery confirmation? The letters need to get to Hogwarts. And I'm not sure ... they're getting through ..." Which was her way of saying she'd sent letters before. |
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Eyes back on his current customer, he cleared his throat before repeating himself - with some reluctance. He ought to just charge her the express fee. "To Hogwarts? I can solve that riddle for you. Nothing is getting in or out from that castle. Been housing a few of the school owls here, actually." He wasn't sure about the rest but likely at the Ministry. "In fact, I've also got a stack of returned letters, parcels, and packages to sort through still and get owled out to their original senders. If you give me your name I can find them for you now." Sorting through all that had not been on his list of priorities when he had taken over the Owl Post, so it was a rather hefty stack. At least it was all in alphabetical order. |
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"Adara. Chloe." Ought to be easy since her surname began with an A; unless he wanted surname for recipient, not sender. |
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"Adara...Adara..." he repeated upon pulling a large wicker box up on to the counter with an unceremonious thud. The name somewhat rung a bell, like a muted distant memory of some variety. But he attested this to the sheer number of names he read through on a daily basis. "Ah...here is one," he nodded as he plucked it from the box and set it on the counter, followed by a few others. "Apologies for the puncture wound there," he lamented as his thumb brushed over the hole through the paper from one of the owl's talons. "Very uncharacteristic of them. My assumption is that something spooked the owl and that happened." Though he was proud that the letter had been returned period rather than dropped and lost to the elements. |
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"Salutations," Quentin said, greeting the other young man in kind. He could not help eying the owl- specifically the talons- as it sat perched upon the postman's broad shoulder. Rather novel wasn't it? The Owl Postman coming along with one of the very star players who made the business possible. the Botanist allowed the tiniest bit of amusement to slink its way into his good-natured smile. "I plan on sending a few items out, and- " He began as his dark, but kind eyes settled on the lively postcard display- "I'll be buying about.. let's do a dozen postcards, what teams do you have today?" Whether or not Thomaz, Shiv or Zai liked them was no matter, Quentin liked them and he firmly believed his younger siblings could do with something a bit silly, a bit flashy in their mail. |
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"I have some watercolors from a local artist," he began by gesturing towards the stand at the edge of the counter. "Local sights from London and Diagon Alley...as well as some from local photographers. All exclusives to the Owl Post. You won't find them anywhere else." |
Text Cut: Fletcherrr Can we emphasize how upset Duncan got when his father yelled at him??? In front of the wizards in cloaks, no less! Granted he got himself wet and tried to climb a fountain but this was not a big deal. His mother would've let him They were at the post office for some reason?? "Nooooo, I wanna go look at the pets." He whined, trying to free his hand again since this was a fairly dull place to be at. He could not climb anything here. "Mallory said we were allowed to have rats as pets." He was super excited to have a cute little rat! |
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"No no no no no no," Fletcher chuckled, shaking his head and then autographing some paperwork for his new employer. He tidied up the papers and looked down at his son. "Mallory was just pulling your leg. She's never even had a pet rat." Has she? There was a lot he didn't know and didn't want to know about his twenty-something daughter. "Wouldn't you rather have a nice..." erm, not another dog, "pygmy puff?" At least they were useful, with their booger cleaning tongues and all. |
Waful had been a bit a bit on edge ever since the encounter on the playground incident, which meant that Zachaël was giving the snowy owl a bit ore TLC than usual to try and calm his shaky feathers. Lighter packages as well and few important documents until he could be certain that the owl was back in tip top shape. Which was why this particular owl was perched on his shoulder while he sat on a stool a corner behind the counter while whittling away on another custom order for a wax seal stamp. Though he did settle the slender piece of wood on to his thigh and straightened when he heard the gentle ring of the bell above the door as it opened as the father-son pair entered. Standing, Waful screening in protest, he moved behind his counter properly. "Owls make for fine pets," he offered with a bit of a wink at the snowy owl. "Though I am of a rather biased opinion. Other than unsolicited suggestions, what else can I do for you today?" |
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Yeah, Duncan WAS fast, his father was just s0o0o0o sl0o0o0ow. It was just a letter, shove it in and be done with it. Duncan did the whole crossing arms, scowling thing to let his dad know he was not amused in this place. ... ... a wax seal? Ooooooh, what's that. "Yeah, okay." He released his arms, and grabbed onto the ledge of the table to try and see what was the wax seal thing. "I can do it. Do I have to be strong?" Because he was. He was just checking, err, so he wouldn't break the seal. What was it again? "She didn't say she owned one, she just said I could. I want to." He beamed, totally forgetting the sulking act he was adamant on carrying from the leaky cauldron till here. "A pygmy puff?" He scrunched up his nose disgustedly. "No, thank you. They're for girls." Duh. They were fluffy and colorful and squeaky. He didn't deny it was nice looking, probably so soft to touch too, but he was a boy. So... yeah, no, thank you. He needed a rat. |
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Fletcher almost jumped when the guy behind the counter His pouty, but still sweet, little boy. "Mm, yeah, you need to be strong like me to make this work," Fletcher extrapolated as he got the blue wax ready for the boy. "Climb up on this stool here," see, there was something to climb everywhere if you looked hard enough, "and you'll be able to reach the counter. Each letter needs a seal in the middle." He demonstrated with the first one, sealing it with a the stamp of DMF in the middle. Fletcher found this task oddly satisfying. "Now you go." Fletcher passed him the next letter. "Is your sister in charge of you now?" Funny how kids thought they could boss around each other. Hilarious. Mallory would be receiving one of these letters if she kept pulling this crap. He caught sight of Dunk's face and stifled a laugh. "Naaaaaaaah, come on," Fletcher did crack a crooked smile at the thought of taking home a rat today. Jessa would LOVE it. "You want a pygmy puff. I had a... yellow pygmy puff when I was your age." That was a blatant lie; Fletcher had been friends with a butterbeer bottle and a tinfoil man, but his kid could do better than that. |
*pretends she was not blind to pixie's post* Quote:
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The wax seal? Wow. Duncan, smiling, took the stamp and waited for his father to place the wax in the proper place. "A yellow one?" Not even a boyish color, like brown or blue. He pressed the stamp onto the wax, being super slow but also strong once the stamp hit the letter, his eyes were so closely monitoring the process his nose almost touched the stamp. "But don't you feel that you shouldn't have gotten a yellow pygmy puff?" |
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That's right, hadn't his kid just wanted a rat? "They totally eat rats, by the way." Now Fletcher spared a glance for the owl itself. It wasn't going to like, peck him, was it? He mouthed a silent SORRY its way just in case, right over Dunk's head so he wouldn't see. The Fletchers simply didn't need another owl; their building had plenty of free ones to borrow. Plus he LIKED having an excuse to get out of the house and come to the post office. Having a family owl would take that joy away. A pygmy puff was a much more suitable choice for Lil Dunk. "Yep, a yellow one." Right, it didn't match him at all, ha bloody ha. "I was a Hufflepuff, you see." Fletcher passed him his last letter to seal. "Hufflepuffs like gold things and their house colors are yellow and black. And yellow is like gold, the color of money." Dunk knew that; everyone knew golden things were good. But back to the pygmy puff thing. "Don't tell your mum this, but I bet a pygmy puff would eat the vegetables you don't like right off your plate." |
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Wow, his father did know a lot about owls. It was not surprising, his father knew a lot about a lot of things. Owls, pygmy puffs, money, how to make mum happy after they had a small fight and much more. "They eat rats?" Duncan paused his stamping, a little horrified by this brand new information. Okay, they couldn't get an owl now! "I didn't know birds ate stuff other than grass." He added sadly, going back to his stamping. The talk about Hufflepuff cheered him up a little. It was funny how quickly children's emotions morphed at this age, right? They cared deeply but moved on quite fast, or was it just lil Dunk? In any case, he started to have a smile on the more his father talked about his house back in school. "I hope I'm also sorted in Hufflepuff, just like you." He commented spontaneously just before he moved his finger to touch the seal he just stamped. |
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"Yeah birds don't eat grass, kid. They like worms and bugs and things," he finally mumbled, getting a bit distracted by his post. He shuffled it all together in a stack and prepared to hand it over to the postman. He was just waiting on the last letter now. "Aww." Fletcher couldn't help but beam at what his boy said. "I hope you are too." Nevermind that Hufflepuff was just a house of mishaps who didn't fit in anywhere else. His son could TOTALLY be the next Glitterpuff, especially if they picked out a good pygmy puff for him. For all his earlier vigilance, Fletcher nearly missed his son trying to touch the warm wax seal on the last letter. "Oh---" he started to say, then stopped, because 1) it was too late; and 2) this was one of those things the boy just had to learn for himself. "Wax is hot, Dunk," Fletcher pointed out un-helpfully after the fact. "How's your finger?" |
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