Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the rights to "Harry Potter" (Book #6 coming out July 16th!). As practically everyone knows, J.K. Rowling does, and if I were to plagiarize her work, the whole world would know. I do, however, own Marie Keaves and all her family members. So no stealing.

Note: If you'd like me to write more about Marie, then just say so. I'll be only too happy to oblige.

The Second Letter

It had been a bad dream, though I couldn't remember what it had been about. Perhaps I had dreamed that I had forgotten everything I had learned about potion brewing. Ah well, it didn't really matter. What did matter, though, as this large lump of feathers now resting on my stomach.

The thing was a grayish color, and might be a fine slate if I lit up my wand. It had muscular, scaly bird legs, dark gray in color, and a long beak. I recognized the bird at once; it was my Grandfather Stuart's Diricawl, Scuff. He had a letter for me, which was rolled in a tough leather tube tied to one of his legs (the common thing for my letters to be in). I picked up my watch from the bedside table and quickly checked the time: four in the morning. Not wanting to disturb my fellow roommates, I splashed some water on my face, grabbed my wand, and crept up the spiral staircase leading to the Hufflepuff common room. Scuff the Diricawl followed clumsily.

The house-elves of the school had obviously been by. The fire (which was at the center of the circular common room) and candles had been extinguished. Since no light came into the lower regions of the Hogwarts castle, I had to light up my wand. After having done so, I tiptoed over to a large leather, yellow recliner; Scuff jumped into my lap once I had sat down.

Of course, I was pretty worried about the letter. Just last summer, Aunt Becky had said that Scuff only "teleported" to other family members when something extremely good -or extremely bad- happened to another family member or close friend. I even remembered the time Scuff had crossed the Atlantic to deliver news of my Grandmother Emma's death. That had been one of the reasons why I was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and why my parents and I had to leave the United States, all because of Nature and her glory. Anyway, back to my story...

As I was stroking Scuff, I thought. What if Grandfather Stuart had died? What if my parents had been killed in some freak accident? What if, what if, what if. My head was filled with pessimistic thoughts, but what if it was something positive? What if Dad had gotten a promotion at the Ministry? What if there was an increase of wizards and witches doing business with Mom, who bred Crups for a living? There was certainly only one way to find out, and I had been dim enough to just think of the possibilities!

Scuff was surprisingly patient with me; usually, he'd be running around like crazy, getting into all sorts of mischief. By looking into his amber eyes, I could see pain and suffering --and longing. It was like someone had died a few hours ago. I untied the tube from his leg and retrieved the letter from it, unrolling the paper. Recognizing the sloppy handwriting of my Aunt Becky, I read:

Dearest Marie,

I suspect you are worried at the time you are reading this, remembering what I told you last summer. Don't worry about your mother, your father, or me; the three of us are just fine. I truly wish I could say the same about your Grandfather Stuart.

You see, I'm writing this from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Your grandfather has just had a rather serious stroke, and is developing unusual blue boils. Rather strange since he's always been a very healthy old chap. The healers here suspect some kind of poisoning, or a disease of some sort, but they're waiting for the jerking about to subside before they do their tests.

I truly wish that you could come visit your dear grandfather; I'm sure you would want to, too. You have about a month of your 4th year left, though, and your parents would like you to finish schooling first. Perhaps your head-of-house, Professor Sprout, can arrange a weekend visit sometime soon? Hopefully, it can be done without interfering with your schoolwork.

Your parents and I send our love.

Aunt Becky

PS - Scuff will be staying with you for a few days, to give you comfort in dealing with this news. That, and the healers had trouble getting near your grandfather with him here; the silly bird wanted to protect him!

I stared at the letter with numb shock. Grandfather? In St. Mungo's? This... couldn't be, or at least, it shouldn't be. I had to reread the letter a few times before finally setting it down. I would have gone, then and there, to Professor Sprout, but it was way too early in the morning. Once again, I checked my watch:

5:08 am.

Sighing, I decided to stay up here, in the common room, and try to get some sleep. If I even tried to get myself down the stairs, I might start to wail and moan, waking up several other Hufflepuffs.

With Scuff still on my lap, I cried myself back to sleep.