The owl drops a card into your outstretched hands - and from the tiny, untidy handwriting, you can just about guess it’s from me.. Unfortunately, the chocolate I’d put inside as well as the story proved too tempting for beaks to resist, and the rain has got in and spoiled much of the rest.
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So, here are the answers behind the polls - hope this works and that filling in the gaps is at least moderately amusing! )
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It's not that I mind not getting an owl-pecked drabble... I just don't want you to think I don't care!
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Never mind, as luck would have it noone chose Crabbe, so perhaps you could virtually claim him for some not-to-exist Christmas fic....
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I'll get back to you when I've figured out what old Nott and Miss Bulstrode have done in that church in order to end up in St Mungo's offering stuff to a Healer :D...
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Glad I made you smile!
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