What appeared to be a 5'2" bundle of blankets with feet approached the owlery after what felt like the longest trek ever from the basement level of the castle. But it was no ORDINARY bundle of blankets. It was, in fact, one Tobias Tempus, though you'd have been forgiven for not realising this on sight. This heap of blankets was, for example, lacking that essential bounciness that always seemed to account for most of Toby's presence. The fourth year was wrapped up in the blankets from his bed as though he was ill with the flu or something, though that wasn't the case.

Still all wrapped up, which served to guard him against the cold as well as being an interesting fashion statement, Toby braced himself and pushed open the door. He dashed in, squinting around the storm-ridden room. At least he'd had some forewarning about the weather in this room, it meant he was prepared and could quickly dash in and out to send his letter.

Or so he thought.

Literally as soon as he stepped inside, Tobias became aware of the ENTIRE OWL!CONTENTS of the room taking flight and FLEEING THE CASTLE. ABANDONING THE FREEZING SHIP.

Toby's eyes went wide in horror and he flung the blankets off of himself, running to the window and skidding on the icy floor as he went. He was still in his pyjamas, and his hair was wild and sticking in every direction.

"NO!" the fourth year screamed after the feathered fiends, a mixture of panic and... was that rage?... in his voice. "WAIT!" In one hand, Toby still held the unsent letter to his grandmother, and he waved it at the retreating owls in futility. "My letter..."

But no. They'd gone. And if he'd just gotten here a few SECONDS earlier, he'd have been able to send the letter. But no.

In an uncharacteristic moment of pure blind temper and desperation, Toby kicked out at the wall and let out some kind of animalistic cry of rage that would have surely emptied the owlery of its occupants had they not already flown away (not that it would have been heard over the howling of the wind). He regretted the kick instantly, and clutched his foot whislt howling in pain, which soon turned to another cry off anger out of the window and into the void. Just a few seconds earlier.

... Wow. So that had been thrilling. Toby hadn't actually lost his temper like that in... ever. It wasn't much, really, but for him? Very out of character. He stood there, still at the window, foot throbbing as he fought back what felt horribly like tears.

It was cold here. Freezing. And there was no reason to be up here.

Still feeling a mixture of completely outraged and on the verge of bursting into tears, Toby stomped back to his now probably filthy pile of blankets, pulled them back around himself and left the owlery before anyone could see him like this. He needed to be alone for these particular emotions.

The owls would come back soon, right? Right?