An envelope came with the post. It was sealed with wax, and stamped with a coat of arms seal. Jonathan took it inside his flat and ripped the top with a letter opener.
“Saint Flareous’ Academy of Sorcery…” he read aloud, and as he continued reading, his lips mouthed the words.
“Son of a bitch,” he concluded, his eyes saucer wide.
Jonathan plopped down in his armchair, knocking his copy of The Goblet of Fire off the armrest. For a long time, he stared at nothing.
The letter must’ve gotten lost in the post. It was Jonathan’s forty-seventh birthday.