Chapter 1

"Shh… Buckbeak, it's alright. She's going to be fine, you'll see. If anyone can help Sheflyer, its Hagrid. And Hermione, well, she's the brightest witch of her age she is. I trust them both with my life," Harry stroked the rough beak of the majestic hippogriff. He turned to the window where he saw his two friends in the backyard of Number 12 Grimmauld Place which he had inherited from his godfather Sirius Black. Hermione was patting a snow white hippogriff below in the yard, "Hermione, Hagrid, how's it going?" Harry called leaning his head out of the window and peering down in the lawn.

"Sheflyer is almost finished. Man, It's a wonder these muggles don't hear a thing," Hermione yelled up at him. Without warning, Sheflyer let out a loud screech and her head fell to the ground. Witherwing couldn't bear to see his beautiful mate in so much pain. He spread his wings out far, smashing Harry against the wall in attempt to push him away. Buckbeak ducked his head, pulled his wings into his warm, feathery body as much as he could, and charged through the window. Shards of glass fluttered like rain to the ground as Witherwing opened his wings to catch the wind and glided gently beside Sheflyer.

"Harry?" Hermione called. No answer came. The only sound she heard were Sheflyer's low screeches and Witherwing's huge claws and hooves stomping on the ground pacing around her, "Harry!" she began to worry for her best friend. She looked at Hagrid who also had worry in his eyes. She couldn't bear the unknown, "Hagrid, look after Sheflyer; call me when the baby comes," she dashed off toward the house, which was hidden by magic from muggles and door-to-door salesmen (which everyone knows are Death Eaters in disguise).

She stomped up every other step. Her hair whipped behind her as she dashed down the skinny hallway. Hermione had to ignore all the pictures screaming about her dirty blood and how she was a traitor. She jiggled the doorknob but it didn't budge. "Harry!" she was screaming now. She reared back and heaved her whole body against the door but it didn't open. "Harry, answer me!" Once again she thrust her body into the door and this time it bursts open. Harry lay motionless with a large, bloody gash diagonally across his chest, "Omigod, Harry!" she ran over to him. She tried to shake him awake but his eyes remained closed. Again she tried waking him but to no avail.

Hermione placed her ear in the center of Harry's chest. A slow beat pierced through his skin to her ear. She would have let out of a sigh of relief if she wasn't trying to choke back tears. She began to unbutton his blood shocked shirt. She chuckled to herself a little about how Harry hated this shirt Mrs. Weasley gave him. She TOLD him to do laundry but did he listen? Nope. Now look what happened. He ended up getting killed in his least favorite shirt. Well Harry, that's what you get!

A tear escaped her grasp and splattered on the button she had once sewed on his shirt after Fang got a little too excited when they went to visit Hagrid a few months back. She was shocked at how one little piece of cloth could hold so many wonderful and not so wonderful memories. The tears flowed as she began to pull the shirt slowly from the wound. She couldn't lose her best friend because of a stupid hippogriff. He defeated the Dark Lord for God's sake!

The gash was at least an inch deep. She pulled off his shirt completely allowing the blood flow freely from the wound. Being the smartest witch of her age, she decided to pull off her own shirt (secretly thanking God she was wearing a spaghetti-strap tank-top) and began to clean the wound with the cotton material. Feathers were plucked from the cut and water was poured over it that was found in a rain collector sitting on the windowsill. A large blue bruise appeared and puss began to leak out around the gash. She took his jacket off the floor and wrapped it around his waist to help the bleeding slow.

She sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder and continued to sob. The pain of her fallen friend reached her heart at that very moment, and all she could do was cry. She looked over at the red rag that used to be her shirt. "He could have lost less blood than that with Sectumsempra," she thought to herself. Why didn't she just allow them to put that stupid hippogriff down in the first place?

Toast, Harry's new tawny owl, appeared in the window and immediately flew onto Harry's other shoulder and began to peck affectionately at the wound, getting blood all over his beak making Hermione realize it was already bleeding through the jacket she had laid on top of her shirt and she needed more wrapping.

Hermione hopped up and grabbed a piece of paper out of her pocket and scribbled a note to Ron using a pen from Harry's jacket pocket. She quickly shoved it into an envelope.

"Toast," she always thought it was a dumb home for an owl but then she didn't care, "take this to Ronald Weasley at the Burrow. Don't wait for his reply just come right back," the owl took off. A low cough escaped from Harry's lips, "Oh Harry!" she ran over and kissed his head in a friendly way. His eyes fluttered, "I sent a letter to Ron telling him what happened. We can't send you to Saint Mungo's because poor Buckbeak would have to change his name again," she sat beside him, trying not to hug him so when Ron came back he wouldn't get the wrong idea. She bit her bottom lip, but she gave in and hugged him tight around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and sobbed again. This time, Harry was caring for Hermione. He put his arm around her and whispered to her.

"It's alright, I'm okay," he tried to hide the pain in his voice, but he was worried he just made it worse.

CRACK. Ron apparated in. Hermione continued to sob into Harry. Ron ignored this and began to undo Harry's jacket and Hermione's shirt that was still around the wound. He took out bandages he had brought with him and rewrapped the gash.

Ron sat up and moved beside Hermione. His hand brushed her back and she instantly latched onto him, "What happen?"

"W-Wi-Witherwing spread his wings and… and…" She sobbed again. Ron smiled mischievously. He pulled Hermione away from himself and looked down at Hermione's body.

"Hermione! Where's your shirt?" he winked

"Ron!" she giggled. She knew he was joking.

Harry chuckled.

"Is Harry alright?" Hagrid called.

"Yeah I'm fine," Harry tried not to sound in pain, "How's Sheflyer?"

"You'd better come down."

Hermione held Ron's hand and Ron held onto Harry's shoulder as they disapparated from the room. Sheflyer was lying motionless on the ground in a pool of blood. Buckbeak stood over her body.

Harry had his hand clutching his stomach under his bare chest. Hagrid's eyes widened, "Harry-"

"What happened, Hagrid?" Hermione was silently glad he had interrupted him because she didn't want to talk about it again.

"Sheflyer's dead," Hagrid hung his head.

"And the baby?" Ron squeezed Hermione as if shielding her from the news ahead.

"Dead,"

Hermione sobbed harder into Ron.

"How-How's Witherwing?" Harry grunted. With that, Buckbeak took off away from number twelve Grimmauld Place, blasting through the barrier and disappearing behind the clouds.

"It's worse than that-" Hagrid paused; before he could speak again Harry was on his feet. He swayed side to side trying to regain his balance. Suddenly he fell into a heap on the ground.

They all crowded around him and began carrying him inside, but someone was there to meet them. At the doorway stood a man, a man they didn't know, a man with the Dark Mark on his left arm.