Errol and Why the Window is Eeeevil

I don't like windows. They're mean. To the human eye, they're just there, sitting, minding their own business. But oh, no. They move. I swear on a week's worth of vole meals, they move. I'll be flying along, going to deliver a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley when BAM! the window moves right in front of my path. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley and Fred, George, Ginevra, and Ronald think it's funny. I don't know why. I think it's cruel. Sure, if a human walked right into a person's path every single bloody time that person went to deliver a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley, that person would beat the other person up! But every time I go and peck that window, trying to pursue revenge, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley swat at me and say, "Oh, Errol, quit it." (Who is this 'Errol?' They can't mean me, my mother named me "Whirrrrgill." Errol must be very naughty. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley scold him a lot.) But that window keeps on moving. I think it laughs at me when I can't hear it. Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley laugh at me too! Just a further reason the Window must be destroyed.

"Errol," said Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley one time, (again with this Errol!) "Send this to Sirius. S-I-R-I-U-S. Sirius."

When Errol did not make himself known, I volunteered to take the letter to Sirius, though I did not know if I could fly that high. Allowing Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley to tie the letter to my leg, I flew as high as I could, until I risked death. Hovering at this level, I flew on, knowing that Sirius is quite a large star, and that it would take quite some stamina to fling the letter to it. I, being the great owl that I am, summed up all my strength and found the approximate location of the star Sirius. Pecking at my leg rope repeatedly, the letter finally came free, and with complete precision I flung it into the sky as it arched and then....then.....fell.

I knew this was not right. Flying over head, I dove after the letter, but it was too late. It hit a balding man's head, knocking him to the ground. Oh no. I perched on his chest and noted that he did not move, was increasingly cold, and was stiff as a board. Seemed fine to me. Retrieving the letter once more, I repeated the flinging process, but it fell again, this time on an unsuspecting woman. When the same symptoms appeared, I flew home, note clutched in my beak.

"Dear God!" cried Mr. Arthur J. Weasely, reading the newspaper I had brought him after an unsuccessful flight to avoid the window.

"'Rogue letter kills two, mysterious owl arrives!'" read Mrs. Arthur J. Weasley.

"Errol!" yelled Mr. and Mrs. Arthur J. Weasely together. Oh no! Errol was in big, big trouble!

"OUT!" they cried together, swatting me out the evil window, which had moved in my path again. Revenge was at hand.