(OOC: This comes with a bit of a sad story for Cobalt
)
Cobalt sat at his desk in complete silence, bottles of firewhiskey littering his desk, some empty and others full. He'd been trying to get drunk again, as he did every year around this time, and it wasn't working, just like it hadn't worked in the past six years. He picked up another bottle of firewhiskey and squeezed the top, cracking the glass and breaking the top off without really noticing. Lifting it up to his lips he drank from it until it was completely dry. He waited a few seconds.
Nothing.
Growling in frustration, Cobalt threw the bottle against the wall, where it shattered into millions of pieces. Looking at the dozens of empty bottles on his desk he growled and cast his arm across his desk in a rage, sweeping all of the bottles onto the floor, where they shattered as well. Sitting back down in his chair heavily, Cobalt looked down at his desk and found a single sheet of parchment in front of him, half splattered with fire whiskey. And once again, just as he had done every year for the past six years, he took out a self-inking quill and wrote a letter.
Dear John,
I know that I haven't written to you in a year but daddy's been busy working. Lots of students need daddy's help so that they can defend themselves against dangerous witches and wizards. Not to mention the mean muggles that want to hurt them. They're all ages here John, lots of them aren't ready to defend themselves but I promise I'll do my best for them.
How's your mother John? I only ask because you're in a better position to ask her than I am. After all, the last time I saw her she said she wanted nothing to do with me. But be a good boy and check up on your mommy okay?
Oh listen to me, using words like 'daddy' and 'mommy' when it's your birthday. You're 12 today aren't you? Can't go around calling me daddy anymore. You have to be a big boy and call me just plain old dad now. Keep calling your mother 'mommy' though, she still likes to think of herself as a mommy and not a mother I think.
I'm sorry I haven't been a very good father John. I'm sorry I haven't spent as much time with you as I should but you're in a place where I'm not welcome at the moment John. I'm doing my best to try and get in but it's slow going with work like mine John. No matter what happens though John, please remember that I'm sorry for sending you away. I didn't want to send you away. I never wanted to send you away.
Your daddyCobalt stared down at the letter for a long time, tears stinging his eyes as he did so. Six years of writing basically the same letter and it still didn't get any easier. If anything it got harder to write down how old he was every year.
How old he would have been.
He carefully folded the letter and slid it into an envelope from his desk. Sealing it slowly, Cobalt wrote the name 'John' on the front of the letter but otherwise left it blank. The quill fell from his grip as his body sagged with the completion of the letter. The same letter he wrote every year on the birthday of his son, John. The same letter he wrote on the anniversary of the day his son was taken from him due to his decision not to act. The letter that would never be delivered. Cobalt sagged forwards onto the desk, his head lying on top of the letter as he sobbed weakly into the parchment.
And all he could see, through the fog of his tears, was the name 'John'.
The name that haunted his nightmares and the namesake of his boggart and single greatest regret. The name of his son.
by 
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» A poem ^^
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