A/N: This story is prone to going on long hiatuses (is that even a word?). I have a busy life, and a bit of a procrastination problem, so I'm sorry ahead of time for when that happens. (I'll do my best!) If you don't think you can deal with long pauses between chapters, maybe you shouldn't start reading this. I will understand completely. Other than that, please enjoy!
Hedwig beat her wings against the wild gale in a frivolous attempt to stay on course. Tied to her leg was a letter of record-breaking length, written to Harry by none other than Ginny Weasely. They'd been writing a lot to each other during the two weeks of winter break, always covering at least a page with words of utmost love and devotion. (Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, and Ginny's parents had wanted her home with them).
This is for Harry, Hedwig thought as a particularly strong gust of wind threatened to send her spinning away into oblivion. She often thought those words when on difficult deliveries. Sometimes they were the only things that kept her going. She knew…she was positive…she couldn't be more certain that she and Harry were soul mates. Hedwig, with her piercing yellow eyes, could see past the species difference, into the very depths of the boy's soul; she was meant for Harry, and he for her.
Of course, he had yet to realize this, but all in good time. Soon he would realize that each time she nibbled on his ear, she was telling him how much she loved him. Soon he would see that the Weasely girl was simply not the one for him, that their relationship might infringe upon his friendship with Ron, that one way or another, things simply wouldn't work out. Either that, or Ginny would be captured by Lord Voldemort and die a tragically slow and painful death. So sad. It was obvious to Hedwig that somewhere, deep down, Harry had feelings for her. Feelings that went beyond those of any regular schoolboy with an especially trustworthy owl. Feelings of love and—
Who am I kidding? thought Hedwig sadly. Harry doesn't love me "in that way" and surely never will. He and Ginny are the ones meant for each other and nothing can change that. Nothing can ever change the way I feel about him, though. A she-owl can dream…
Drat. Lost in thought, she had run into a tree. Stupid tree. How inconsiderate of it! She decided to take a little rest on the branch. As she took in her surroundings, she realized that she had no idea where she was. Snow weighed down the branches of the exceptionally rude pine tree she was sitting in, as well as covered the ground below her.
Hedwig suddenly noticed the deep footprints in the otherwise untouched snow. She stood stock still. If she wasn't much mistaken, she could have sworn she heard murmuring voices…a twig snapped, and suddenly Hedwig gave a wild shriek as she felt a net being thrown over her. But – but – where was the net? She couldn't see it, though she felt it restricting her movement…she must be going senile! Or perhaps she had schizophrenia? She was having both auditory and tactile hallucinations, which she knew from personal experience (don't ask) were possible signs of mental illness.
And no, she most certainly was not on drugs – she'd given up gillyweed long ago!
But then she saw them. Two figures, both masked and one pointing a wand directly at her! She immediately resumed shrieking and flailing her wings. "Aaaak! Let me go! I said, let me go this second! Don't you know how to treat a beautiful snowy owl? Didn't your mother teach you manners? Hello-o! I've got do deliver this letter to Harry Potter! PUT ME DOWN!" Still shouting, she dug her talons into the branch as she felt herself being pulled down, away from the tree, and no doubt into a bad situation.
Ignoring her shouts, her two abductors succeeded in grabbing her from her perch and roughly untying the letter from her leg. "Ouch, dat's by beak, you ibbecile! Kidely refraid frob grabbeeg by face ad stob –"
"I wish the ruddy owl would shut up! All it's screeching is going to give me a bloody headache!" Hedwig was interrupted by the voice of the man who had spelled the net over her.
"Nott, if it's bothering you so much, why don't you stun the damn thing?" drawled a woman's voice. "It"? "Damn thing"? What am I – a plush toy? thought Hedwig angrily. She didn't have time to think much longer, for just then, "Nott" decided to make good on his companion's advice and stun her. The last thing she was aware of before she blacked out was being stuffed unceremoniously into a sack, and having her feathers very rudely rumpled.
When Hedwig first awoke, she didn't open her eyes. She wanted to convince herself that it had all been a dream, that she hadn't just been shanghaied while on her postal delivery, that she hadn't recently been referred to as both "it" and "thing," and that maybe, just possibly, Ginny was not still alive and well. (Hey, if I'm going to be a wishful thinker, I might as well go all out! she thought.) Finally, she slit one eye open, and then the other. The room she was in was so dimly lit that any normal animal could have gone on hoping that they were not, in fact, very, very far from home.
No such luck.
Hedwig silently cursed her night vision as she took in the tiny room she sat caged in. Her prison (as she presently thought of the too-small birdcage she was locked in) sat on top of an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A chilly draft, coming from a dirty, cracked window, sent shivers up her spine, and she noted wistfully that the stone fireplace in the wall opposite her was currently not in use. The only pieces furniture in the room, other than the armchair, were a dusty wooden writing desk and a rickety-looking stool.
Hedwig turned her head when she heard the door open behind her. In walked a tall woman with voluminous, glossy black hair and dark, hooded eyes. She had a sour expression on her face, and was carrying a tray of what looked to Hedwig like roadkill. The owl wondered vaguely what on earth the woman was planning to do with a pile of dead mice and shrews.
"I cannot believe that the Dark Lord is having me carry out such a lowly task!" the witch (Hedwig assumed she was neither a muggle nor a squib) muttered as she walked over to Hedwig's cage and unlatched the door. "Here." She thrust the tray of food in front of the owl's beak expectantly. Hedwig cocked her head, looking at it, rather puzzled. "Well, don't just stand there! Eat up!" the woman snapped, sounding as if she couldn't care less if Hedwig starved to death. Realizing the purpose of the pile of carcasses, she now gazed icily at the woman.
"I catch my own food, thanks."
"Hoot to you, too," replied the witch. Then, after another moment of holding the tray out in front of Hedwig, grumbled "Fine! Go hungry. God knows I don't give a damn," then added in a slightly pained voice, "Good Lord, I'm talking to an owl." She turned to leave, and was just almost out the door when a high, cold voice came from nowhere.
"Ah, Bellatrix, it appears that you have not yet learned to follow instructions." The woman shrieked and whirled around, only to see a tall, skeletal man appear from thin air in a whirl of black robes. She immediately ran up and knelt before him, kissing the hem of his robes.
"Forgive me, my Lord, but the owl, she refused –"
"Bellatrix, I do believe you possess a wand. If one were required to force feed an owl, one could easily accomplish such a task with such a handy instrument. But perhaps you'd forgotten how to use yours. Allow me to demonstrate – Crucio!" The wizard, who Hedwig knew could only be Lord Voldemort, held his wand pointed at Bellatrix. She writhed on the floor in pain for a moment, before Voldemort ended the curse and commanded icily, "Now get up. Feed the owl." Shakily, the woman stood. For a moment, Hedwig almost felt sorry for her. Then she remembered the woman's disrespect for an owl's eating habits, as well as how it felt to be yanked out of a tree, stunned, stuffed into a sack and forced to live in an inexcusably tiny cage. All feelings of sympathy vanished.
As Bellatrix approached Hedwig, the owl prepared herself to have food brutally shoved down her throat. Instead, though, when the witch pointed her wand at Hedwig and muttered an incantation, Hedwig felt herself go into the most blissful state of mind she had ever experienced. She was no longer locked in a cage in a cold, dark room, with the evil Lord Voldemort and the cruel Bellatirx. No, she was floating…up…somewhere, she didn't care where, and there were nice fluffy pink clouds, and it was warm and pleasant, and – ah! – there was a woman's voice! It was telling her…what was it telling her? "Eat the nice dead mice and shrews. You look hungry, Hedwig, and such a stunningly beautiful owl should never go hungry. Eat the tasty rodents. Go on, eat them."
Well I…now that's a stupid thing to do! Those carcasses are all cold and not freshly killed. But, if you say so… Hedwig dug her beak into the rodents that were suddenly conveniently in front of her. She gagged on her first mouthful. Euuurrgh! That was ghastly! It was cold and old and rancid and…and…I'd like some more! Hedwig wasn't sure why, but something was compelling her to continue eating the disgusting food. It just seemed right. She quickly finished the whole plate. She suddenly didn't feel quite so floaty and care-free anymore, and she found herself once again in the cold, unfriendly room with two cold, unfriendly people. She immediately regretted eating the carcasses.
"Hedwig, I suppose you must be wondering why you're being kept here," mused the Dark Lord. At an incredulous look from Bellatrix, he added calmly, "Yes, I can indeed speak to this owl, Bella. As you'll remember, I am an accomplished legilimense. She, too, understands exactly what we say, so you ought to be cautious what you say around her. Now, Hedwig, I'm going to tell you why you're here, because I particularly enjoy gloating to my victims about my perfect plans.
"My plan is fairly simple. We only had to capture you once to obtain secret information. After that, we simply send you back and forth with false correspondence." He paused for a moment, steepling his pale, spindly fingers as he began to pace the floor. A slightly manic grin began to slowly spread across is face. "But what we found was rather unexpected." He paused for a moment, apparently savoring a triumphant thought.
"Did you?" Hedwig prompted.
"Yes. We found a love letter. I was intrigued by the idea that Potter might have a girlfriend. Their pathetic attempts to hide that fact haven't fooled me, and now I have the ultimate proof. The person that matters most in the world to Harry Potter is Ginny Weasely." (Hedwig felt a surge of extreme hatred and jealousy at these words.) "Am I correct in saying that young Potter would go to any lengths to save the girl were she in any sort of danger?"
"Well, yes, but – what's your point?" Hedwig may have been an incredibly beautiful, loyal snowy owl, but she was not particularly good at making inferences.
"My point is, Hedwig, that I hope you are not opposed to sharing, because a certain Ginny Weasley will soon be your new roomie! Mwahahahahaaaa!" Cackling with mirth, the dark lord swept out of the room, leaving Hedwig sitting there, mouth open, emitting odd squeaking noises. She didn't appear pleased.
Not pleased at all.