It was a rather cool night, for late spring; cold even. Jonquils and other spring flowers nodded in the moonlight, yet there was a low mist over the Forbidden Forest, and a bit of frost twinkled on the road that wound down to Hogsmeade. Hedwig kept her feathers fluffed against the cold. From a high piney perch near the Shrieking Shack, she could see the town and the road that wound down to it, the forest, castle and even the lake beyond. She also could see the returning Thestrals, circling above the forest, looking for a place to alight. The town below her was a picture of serene repose.

She had flown out over the valley earlier that evening, after the children left Hogwarts for London. She liked to hunt, though she was a tame owl, and now, full of mice, she rested deep in meditation. A frosty mist rose from Hedwig's beak with

every breath she exhaled. It rose twisting and shining about her head, then drifted away up into the starry sky.

It was a good night, the owl mused. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be emptying for the summer season in no time. Then it would be back to the confinement of Number 4, Privet Drive. Little winging in Surrey, Hedwig thought, and enjoyed a little owly chuckle at her pun. She was very fond of Her Boy, loved him even, but spending most of the summer locked in a cage would test the patience of a... well, an owl. She hoped Harry would have allot of correspondence this year. Maybe then the Dursleys wouldn't notice her. So thinking she drifted off to sleep.

Hedwig was deep asleep, dreaming of fat mice dancing under a summer moon, when suddenly the peace of the night was ruptured. There was a tremendous blast, like the blast of a cannon, and a 1937 Rolls Wraith apparated on the road, just in front of Hedwig's tree. Alarmed, she nearly fell, and had to flutter, and grab with her beak, to save herself. When she did regain her balance, and a moment later her dignity, she glared down at the thoughtless intruders, a white ball of feathered indignation.

Below her she saw two women had gotten out of the car. Or rather, one had emerged of her own volition, then stomped around the car, and dragged another woman out by her hair. Something was clearly not right here. Hedwig crouched low on her branch, hiding herself amidst the boughs to avoid detection.

The first woman, the angry one, was tall and slender. She had ash-blonde hair that was perfectly coiffed, and her clothes, gray satin silk beneath a flowing, black velvet traveling cloak, were stylishly elegant. She wore huge glimmering pearls around a neck that was at both swan-like, and yet repellently stalk-like. She might have been beautiful, in a cool and elegant sort of way, except for the nasty, sneering look on her face; a look that had the appearance of being, to greater and lesser degrees, a permanent feature. When she dug her perfectly manicured nails into the soft upper arm of the other woman, so that blood oozed up beneath them, Hedwig nestled deeper into her cover.

The other woman seemed at first glance almost a girl, perhaps just entering her teens. But after a moment Hedwig realized that was because she was so thin (far too thin really, as certain muggle women were apt to be), and perhaps as well, it was the simple, pleasant expression on her face. More correctly she guessed the girl was in her early twenties. Her appearance otherwise was shocking. Her skin was pale to an unhealthy extreme, as if she hadn't seen the light of day in years. Her dark-red hair was very long, and untidy. She was wearing a thin nightgown, which was at least two sizes too big for her, so that it sagged from her thin chest most unbecomingly. She was barefoot; and, most shocking of all, her shoulders were scored with bleeding wounds, as though she had been beaten.

In spite of all this, the younger woman was extremely beautiful.

The blonde woman jerked the girl around, almost pulling her off her feet, and began stuffing one of her arms into the sleeve of a large, black cloak, with the initials 'LM' monogrammed on the lapel.

"Put it on idiot," she snarled, jerking the girl around the other way so as to stuff her other arm into the other sleeve.

The cloak was really much too large. The sleeves hung down to her knees, and the hem puddled a good ten inches on the ground around her.

"I know you, don't I," the girl asked, her tone pleasant, if a bit strained, as though she were trying hard to be polite to a rude stranger.

The other woman gave a nasty, ironic snort, and then jerked the cowled hood up around the girl's face, so that she was now quite hidden in folds of dark drapery. Then the blonde drew a somewhat battered wand from the folds of her own cape and shoved it into the girl's hand.

"Hold it up, and out like this," she said, holding her own arm out as if to curse. The girl obeyed, a sweet smile on her lips. "There," said the blonde, standing back to admire her handiwork. "A perfect, little death eater you are. With any luck some nervous-nelly will blast first, and ask questions later. But either way I'm glad to finally be rid of you!"

"What was your name again?"

"Shut up, just... SHUT UP! How I despise you!"

The girl's eyes widened for a second then she smiled again, seemingly unaffected by the other woman's spite.

"I know this mess is your fault," the blonde fumed, "I don't know how you did it, but you've finally ruined me." She grimaced in over-dramatic and unconvincing grief. "Lucius caught... caught red-handed, in the Ministry of Magic no less. After all my hard work, the expenses," (more correctly her husband's expenses), "and all my sacrifices... It just isn't fair!"

After a moment the blonde dropped her pretense of grief, and, hard faced again, grabbed a handful of the front of the girl's cloak, dragging her forward, off of her feet, so that the girl stumbled, with a small cry of pain, and fell against her tormentor.

"I may have to go, but I am sure Voldemort will reward me quite handsomely when I tell him what you have hidden away. I may have failed to find where you hid it, but he won't. Yes, I shall be quite comfortable, and far away from all this mess. I think the tropics sound nice, don't you?"

"Yes, indeed, the tropics sound lovely."

"Shut up," She sneered, then paused for a moment, puzzling. It felt as though there were something she was missing, or forgetting...? After a moment, unable to grasp what it could be, she gave the girl a shove towards the town below.

"Go on! Drat you, GO! You have an appointment with destiny. And glad I am to see the last of you."

The girl began to limp along the road towards Hogsmeade. In a moment there was the sound of a car door slamming. The girl paused to gaze back over her shoulder uncertainly. Just then another loud report shivered the night, and when she looked back the other woman, and the Rolls Wraith, had vanished.

"Wait," the girl murmured, but she was not fool enough to waste breath pleading for the other to return. She didn't really want her to come back after all, even though she did feel quite alone, and lost.

She sat herself down on a mossy rock beside the road to think things over. She was very near Hedwig's pine now, so that Hedwig could hear her talking to herself. The owl noticed the girl was using much larger words and phrases than before, and in fact seemed to be debating something rather intelligently with herself. After a few minutes, seeming to have come to some decision, the girl stood up, and set off again on the road to town.

Alarmed, Hedwig glided down hooting. Going to Hogsmeade dressed like that was sure to bring disaster, and she already felt a liking for the poor girl, who was obviously not quite right after all. Trying to force the girl back, she flew around her head beating her wings, and clicking her beak threateningly. The girl threw her arms over her head, laughing, then stumbled and sat down hard in the road.

"What are you doing, you crazy owl," she laughed, flapping her hands in Hedwig's general direction. Hedwig lit, but continued her flapping and clicking.

"Oh. You saw all that did you? Not very pretty was it?"

Hedwig calmed a bit, but remained on the ready, should the girl try anything foolish again.

"Aren't you a pretty one. I haven't seen an owl in years."

Hedwig hooted consolingly, for certainly that was a shame.

"I'll bet you think I shouldn't go to Hogsmeade dressed up like this, am I right?"

Hedwig hooted a most definite owlish, 'quite right you are!'

The girl laughed. There was an edge of grimness to her laugh though now. "But you see I have to. I have to get to Azkaban right away. I have to get arrested. And now I have the perfect means. I didn't even have to commit a crime. Wasn't that helpful of the old dear? All I have to do is go down there, let them blast at me, and hope that no one kills me."

Hedwig hooted her most shocked hoot, as if to say: 'you are crazy!'

The girl laughed again, with more humor than before. "No, I've not gone around the twist yet. At least I don't think I have. Well, why don't I tell you my story. Then you can decide, and tell me what you think."

"It all began at Hogwarts..."

Hedwig did not want to appear too interested, but soon she was quite caught up. She leaned forward, eyes wide, and at one point hopped right into the girl's lap, hooting in commiseration. When she was done Hedwig heaved a heavy sigh, and blinked her eyes for all the world as if she might cry.

"So, that's my story, and my plan," the girl finished, rising to her feet. "You know, I could use the help of an owl. If you aren't too busy...? What do you say girl? Are you in, as they say in the American movies?"

Hedwig hooted her assent without more that a moment of hesitation.

"As long as your master can spare you. Well, why don't you see me off, and I'll look for you tomorrow evening at Azkaban?"

With a last doubtful hoot Hedwig took flight, swooping and gliding in front as the girl picked her way with care along the stony road into Hogsmeade.

The residents of town were used to the noisy comings and goings of the magical community. So, although one couple had been disturbed by the noise of the aparating and disaparating Rolls, soon enough they had turned over, and were once again fast asleep. Thus it was that no one noted the lone 'figure of dread' approaching town from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Nor did anyone see as she darted from shadow to shadow, to at last stand directly outside the lighted windows of The Three Broomsticks.

Hedwig lit on the roof of Zonko's to watch, wondering if there was anything she could do to stop what was about to happen. Now that it came right down to it, the whole plan seemed rather desperate; in fact all too likely to end in disaster.

It was late, but apparently not too late for the crowd at the pub. The place was packed. Strange rumors and reports were being passed along, for something remarkable had transpired at the Ministry of Magic that very night. It was all very tangled and confusing. Some said one thing, and some said another, but one thing all agreed upon: Voldemort, was back. And once more it all had something to do with Harry Potter. Neither the boy wizard nor Dumbledore were cracked after all, as many had secretly hoped. There had been a battle, and someone had died fighting the death eaters. Yes, the dark times had come again.

They were a frightened, almost hysterical gathering. Thus it was that when a dark hooded figure was seen, waving its wand threateningly, right outside the window of The Three Broomsticks, the pub fairly exploded. Curses and jinxes flew so thick that it seemed as if a rocket factory had ignited. Bottles fell, and exploded, some billowing clouds of green, purple or pink magical smoke. The windows blew out, and people poured into the street where the hapless death eater lay, quite collapsed.

Things might have gotten very nasty then.

One voice rose above the din of the crowd. "Avada," it began, but the curse was never finished, for a white owl swooped down out of the dark sky, and plucked the wand from the curser's hand, leaving the hand empty, and its owner most bemused.

Madam Muerta was a witch to be reckoned with, and she was having none of that foolishness. Her pub was about to be the scene of a murder! Her pub was on the verge of burning down! She rose up between the death eater and the mob, seeming to tower on her four inch spiked heels, and the hapless wizard whose wand had been snatched was the first of many to fall afoul of her wand that night. Soon enough her singed patrons calmed themselves enough to back away. Still the witch stayed, protecting the fallen sorcerer from the mob until the authorities arrived.

It did not take the ministry officials long to arrive from London. They were surprised, disappointed, and somewhat bemused however, they had been hoping to have located the escaped Bellatrix Le Strange. Instead they collected an unknown young woman, still smoking from the many jinxes and hexes that had been heaped upon her. And at least one ministry official was disturbed.

Hedwig left the scene as the ministry began taking statements, feeling that she had done her best, and feeling as well that she was needed back at Hogwarts.