[included with the note are several expensive/rare vials of potions ingredients, as well as a silver self-stirring cauldron]
Pansy,
I know this is a little late, and that it won't matter to you either way. Feel free to discard the note. The point is that I've written it, rather than you read it. I wasn't going to send you anything for your birthday because it wouldn't mean anything to you. Still, here I'm doing it, and I remind myself that it does matter because of what once was. Things are changing. Maybe irrevocably, once everything is set right. Maybe it never will be right again. I don't pretend to know anymore. I'm just as lost as you are, even if you don't know it.