Better in a school than have all these birds swooping around the Ministry. It's madness.

All the packages. And flowers. Knickers, even. None of them dancing, though. Unless Pennifold confiscated them for himself. In which case, he's welcome to them.

It's the letters and cards, though. Screeching. Bleating. Croaking.

And the pictures. Ugk.

This couldn't have happened last winter when most private owls were tied up serving the Ministry? None of this chaos then.