Thursday, June 8th ~*~ Afternoon
The book was very carefully propped up out of the way on her kitchen counter. Its pages were tattered and yellowed, and Daphne was treating it with the utmost of care. It had belonged to her father, and his grandmother before him; names carefully inscribed inside the front cover going back several generations.
She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and double checked the instructions handwritten on the page, her finger hovering just above the words to guide her.
Daphne had just picked up a razor sharp knife and turned to the glass jar containing a live newt when there was a whisper soft knock at her front door, quickly followed by two more and silence. She rolled her eyes and crossed the flat to open the door just as one final rap, louder than the first three, ran out.
"Seriously, Mister Fletcher."