In a small attic of a flat in England, a piercing shriek split the air. It went on for a few seconds until cut off as if by a knife. There was a shattering of glass and a small white smudge sped off into the air, streaking by like a bullet, all part of a mirage of snow and starry night.
The smudge, a magnificent owl, scored and slashed the air and merry white flakes on her furious trek through the skies. Somehow, she knew where she was going and knew how to get there, despite the flurrying fall of snow. She flew long and hard, faster than any owl should, her second eyelids blinking rapidly to clear her eyes and her head swiveling to catch any sound she could.
Just as the winter sun shyly crept over the horizon, the owl gave a shrill hoot and spiraled down to land on a foreshadowing tree, its branches bare of leaves and stabbing the scenery. She stared fiercely at three figures under the tree. A fourth lay several feet away, unattended. One lay on the snowy ground, eyes shut and black hair casually mussed, silent and still, with no trace of life left for the owl's glowing golden eyes to see. The other two humans had looked up when they heard her call. At the sight of the snow colored owl, a thick haired brunette broke into tears in the arms of a tall redhead, who squeezed her tightly and held up his free arm for the owl with a grim face.
The owl, without caution, fluttered down to land on the outstretched arm. The man bowed his head in respect and the owl gave a small incline of her head to acknowledge him. The woman, controlling her tears, looked up and smiled.
"Hello, Hedwig," she whispered. Hedwig hooted quietly and butted her head against the woman's hand. In a powerful down stroke that stirred both humans' hair, Hedwig lifted into the air and hovered for a few seconds before they got the hint and moved away from the body of their dead friend. Yet again, the woman began to cry and the man grimaced up at the sky. Hedwig floated down to land on her human's chest, hooting softly and nuzzling his head, waiting to hear the delicate sound of his breathing or for his eyes to flicker open under their glass shields. She knew it was hopeless though. The silence of his chest was deafening to her and she hooted softly in dismay, and her call began to grow in volume and pain until it echoed into the sky. The woman broke free from the man's hold.
"Hermione-" called Ron. She shook her head and went over to the mourning owl and knelt down, careful not to look at the face of her best friend.
"Come here, Hedwig." The owl looked at her distrustfully for a few seconds before sidling over and stepping delicately onto her arm. In her other gloved hand was a wand and she muttered a quick incantation. A piece of parchment and a quill appeared, floating in the air. Hermione dictated to the quill, which dutifully scribbled along and then signed her name. Ron, who had come over, flicked his wand and his signature appeared on it as well. Hermione conjured a piece of string and tied the rolled up note to Hedwig's ankle and stood up. "Take this to the Minister?" she asked. Hedwig nodded- it would take her mind off her human. Hermione lifted her arm a few times and then threw the owl into the air for a quick takeoff.
Hedwig sped off into the snow-free air, gliding and coasting elegantly, stark against the shadow-colored clouds. Her sense as a carrier owl led her directly to Rufus Scrimgeour, in a troubled sleep in his large house. Landing delicately on the sill, the snowy owl tapped her beak against the window. The Minister's eyes shot open and he quickly got up, pulling on a robe over his pajamas and calling to a house elf, who glanced at the owl and disappeared. The Minister of Magic quickly opened the shelf and bowed politely to the owl he had seen only twice before.
"Good morning, Hedwig," he said as his elf reappeared with a bowl of water and a fresh roll. He quickly untied the note and placed her gently on the tray. She didn't touch the food, only stared at him. "Good news, I hope?" he asked as he gingerly untied the letter. Hedwig swiveled her head and hooted softly in a kind of shrug. The Minister unrolled the letter and scanned it quickly, his face blank.
i Minister Scrimgeour,
Good morning. We'd like to report that all is well, but it is not. Lord Voldemort has been defeated, his Death Eaters in hiding. Harry is dead. The Dark Lord used some sort of spell that we could not hear to take Harry with him. You will not be able to apparate to us. Go to the old Riddle House in Little Hangleton, where a Mr. Frank Bryce was killed six years ago. Go to the bedroom of Tom Riddle, up the stairs and to the left. On the dresser, you will find a dead snake. Touch the fang of the snake, still in it's mouth, to the notch in the closet door. Then say the incantation for the Dark Mark. A tunnel will open and you will find your way from there. You will find us, Harry and Voldemort. Please come soon and bring guards.
Yours,
Hermione Granger
Ron Weasley i
After reading it twice more, Scrimgeour sighed and put the note down, calling once again to his elf.
"Lola," the elf appeared. "Please wake up Mr. Weasley," he began, naming his secretary. "And tell him to contact the most important reporters of Witch Weekly, the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and Sorcery England and send them here, to our house. Tell Percy to use the fast owls." Lola nodded and with a crack, disappeared. The Minister rubbed his face tiredly and turned to Hedwig, who still watched him.
"And what of you, little owl?" he asked. Hedwig gave her owl shrug again. "Will you return to Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger?" he asked. She hooted softly in agreement. He nodded. "Well Hedwig, might I say that I am deeply sorry for your loss and you are welcome anytime to stay in the ministry owlery, though I know you will be welcome in many places." Hedwig swiveled her head and hooted, fluttering to the windowsill and tapping against it. She hooted as she flew off towards Hermione and Ron again, a goodbye to the waving prime minister as several pops signified the arrival of the reporters, a few in bedclothes.
10 Days Later
A crowded cemetery. A gate in the front reads "Heroes of the War" in curly iron script. Unplottable, invisible to the regular muggles of the world. Wind whipped hair and hats and cold turned cheeks and noses red. Women cried quietly and men stared grimly at the ground. The cemetery was full of people, people from all over the world. In the front were the Ministers of Magic from all over Europe, as well as a few from Asia and some from the Americas. Teachers from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a family of redheads and a few odd men and women all around 23 years old. In the forefront stood a woman with straight red hair, glowing green eyes, and a swelling stomach. A three year old with her mother's eyes and soft, red-brown hair rested on her hip. Both looked sadly at the grave where a white coffin lay, waiting to be covered. Through tears, the woman conjured a candle and was about to light it when her daughter took the wand into her own hands and with a furrowed brow, set the candle alight before breaking into tears herself. Kneeling down, Ginny Potter scooped out some earth with her gloved fingers and gently placed the candle in it. Covering the remaining space with earth again, she placed a charm on it, keeping it alight for a year, until which she would relight it.
All present stood back as she heavily got to her feet. They bowed their heads for a prayer but were interrupted by a terrible screech. Everyone but Ginny looked silently for the source. Ginny simply held out her arm. Another call split the air as a small white owl spiraled down to land on the outstretched arm. Hedwig was tense and shifted from foot to foot on Ginny's arm.
"Hedwig," called the little girl. The owl stopped for a second to look at the little girl. "Hedwig!" she called again, stretching out her little arms. Ginny began to cry as Hedwig gently nipped Lily's finger before flying off again, disappearing into the skies, not to be seen. Lily waved goodbye to the owl.
i 1 Year Later i
"Don't be long, Gin. It's cold." The redhead smiled at Hermione.
"I'll be fine." She said. "Goodbye Lil, goodbye Sirius. I'll be back soon!" The black haired baby in Hermione's arm crowed a goodbye and the redhead holding her hand nodded and waved.
"Come back soon, mum." She said quietly. Ginny nodded and apparated into the Hero's Cemetery. The first thing she did was kneel down and redo the charm on the candle with a quick flick of her wand. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the earth covering the grave of her husband.
"He was a little boy," she whispered. "I named him Sirius, like you asked. Lil is growing up just fine, and she's a whiz at magic. I know you'd be proud of her. I'm going to teach her to play Quidditch soon." She smiled. "I'll have someone to play with again." She stood in silence for another five minutes before a hoot caught her attention. She turned, searching for the sound and saw a tree, not too far off. A white owl sat in a hollow, swiveling her head in curious recognition at Ginny, who smiled. She trotted over.
"Hello Hedwig," she said. "How are you, girl? Lil's missed you terribly." Hedwig hooted and stepped off of her nest to reveal several white chicks, sleek and beautiful with their new flight feathers all grown in. Ginny gasped in wonder as another handsome snowy flew into a fork in the tree. Ginny bowed respectfully. "Quite a catch," she murmured to Hedwig, who hooted softly. In the back of the hollow, the mother owl nudged the largest of the four white chicks to the front. Ginny, catching on quickly, put her hands out, and the white chick trotted trustingly onto her hands. "For me?" Ginny asked the snowy owl. Hedwig swiveled her head and hooted in a sound of agreement. Ginny smiled. "Same time next year," she whispered before bowing to the family and disapparating back to her home.