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Twenty-one Leve Don smelt like balsam since the wooden chairs, the wooden doors and all the wooden boxes, except one last box, were polished. Janna took the last of the boxes from the left of her from the floor, she hadn't seen this box before. On the flaking ebony wood there were metal plates with curling patterns which decorated the corners of the rectangular medium sized box. Janna had never seen this one at all. Mrs Winslow usually had square boxes with jewels and small polished decorative gems making them sparkle.

Mrs Winslow did say to polish Janna shrugged before opening the box, there was a subtle creak and a click as the lid stopped at the hing. Janna looked over her shoulder to the door then quickly stared into the box, she lifted it onto the dressing table, she lifted herself up and leaning towards the box. Lying, perfectly placed, on a lumpy blue velvet throne laid what looked like to be a well-polished stick; maybe about eleven or twelve inches long.

Janna's eyebrows puckered in confusion, she lifted the stick out the box with the cloth over her fingers, the stick was a dark brown, a near black colour; which seemed to have a red tint within its sheen. "A stick?" Janna asked, staring at the stick "why would she have a stick?"

The stick seemed to have its own source of illumination, Janna knew that this was not any old stick, but she couldn't figure out what this stick was maybe to be.

There was whispering around Janna—she froze, her eyes slowly rolled around the room, there was no wind or birds outside. Nervously Janna gently ran her thumb over the stick, it hummed to her in a melody which made Janna feel relieved, she let the cloth drop onto the floor into a small lump as she continued her observation, the stick then let off a chorus with the melody, Janna could feel there was something missing in this stick, what was it—?

"Julianna!" Called a voice from downstairs—this voice wasn't Mrs Window's—however Janna still accidentally dropped the stick, she gasped, quickly slammed the box, put it back which the others, she stuffed the cleaningcloth in her pocket—the stick! Janna froze when she saw she'd forgotten the stick, she pulled out the box and she quickly placed the stick in with the velvet before sliding the box back into the group of boxes.

"I'm here!" Janna called back, she lifted the bucket of polish with her greatest effort as she carefully walked out the room, gently passing through the corridor between the stairs and bathroom.

"How has your day been? Were you alright this morning?" Asked a warm voice, Janna slowly came down the stairs, she spotted the greying complextion of Mr Winslow.

"Oh—I-I was er... very alright" Janna nodded, she tried to smile innocently as she realised her sentence didn't make any sense.

"That's good," Mr Winslow then shed his blazer before shouldering a sofa with it, "was your mother in a hurry this morning?"

Janna carefully opened the cupboard door which showed the innards of the sink, "yes, Mrs Winslow had told me to prune the buds" Janna carefully slid the bucket into the cupboard under the lowest shelf before hanging the cloth on the pipe "have you ever seen those flowers the vines have?"

"No, sadly not, they only came about a few years ago and those flowers don't often show in this part of the world" Mr Winslow explained as he tiredly slumped down in a couch. Janna saw he was tired, he was usually tired, he never had a good night sleep since he was nearly at work for a whole day pushing papers at the Ministry of Magic, he knew Janna didn't mind him relaxing, but when Mrs Winslow came along—

"Do you want tea, I was going to make myself a pot" Janna asked as she came and stood near Mr Winslow who smiled softly through his trimmed iron streaked beard.

"That would be lovely, Janna, you can make it a strong brew before your mother comes" Mr Winslow said as he sat up a bit, he ran his hand through his hair before rubbing his eyes to wake up a little more. There was a knock on the front door, Mr Winslow immediately looked sharp, his eyes shined as he spotted Mrs Winslow strutting towards her husband.

Now, why would Mr. Winslow have a job he hates even though the world has far more opportunities? Well... the Winslows were a special kind of wizard, they were squibs, contrastingly Mr Winslow's sister was a witch, who usually brewed Janna potions to help with the full moons, the Ministry had been kind enough to give Mr Winslow a job but it was too low a pay job for his intelligence. Mrs Winslow had inherited quite a moderate sum of money way back when, this granted the Winslow's some stability.

The couple was a sight to behold, their marriage was set on being there for each other, Mrs Winslow had been quite the looker in her day, but in the present her skin was covered with so much make up you'd be able to make a whole life sized sculpture of her whole body with the makeup left over after one day on her face. Her natural beauty still lingered, her bright true blue eyes, long slender face and long black hair made her a natural beauty.

Mr Winslow was a scrawny man, he was lean and usually surrounded by a cloud of good will and kindheartedness, his hair had its own age, since he was fifteen his hair began to grey from its ash brown to a darker grey with grey streaks, he eventually grew a trimmed beard on his handsome face, he was never bothered with his looks despite being good looking for such a scrawny man.

Mrs Winslow sat herself next to Mr Winslow who immediately planted a peck on her cheek, she smiled dearly before leaning on his shoulder and giving a quick glare at Janna, who was still wondering about the polished stick in the jewellery box and why it was there in the first place, was it a part of the box? Mrs Winslow wouldn't ever have something look that lumpy. Janna got a quickly glance at her wrist, she gently pulled the sleeve of the frumpy jumper to where her thumb began.