A/N: So, I must hate myself. I am going to be doing Henria's story through Denali's eyes. It isn't going to be as detailed as Henria. The first couple of chapters are going to span the months before Christmas. Maybe the first four. It is going to be Denali's musings and Denali's thought process. I found him entertaining in Outsider in the Inside.

This one is for dracodarlingxx! Because she supports my bad habits. Like drama...

Want some drama, go read her story Legends Never Die! It is a next gen fic with a lot of swearing and dramatics. Plus, Albus is a grumpy, macho man's man. He has said so before. So, go read that also! She is brilliant!

Happy reading!

Henny, that lucky Penny!

My Witch

The dingy room was not too bad. My witch and I were relatively comfortable. And Diagon Alley was not too terrible. My witch only went out there when we needed some supplies. She had been grumbling about how many of those vile drinks she had left from her stock. The amount of caffeine flowing in her system was giving me a headache, but she was stressed out about having left Alaska. I understood her need to give me the headache.

I tried to comfort her as best as I could. She was constantly stroking my wings and feathers. Her soft kisses brought comfort to the both of us. I wished that I could bring her father here. He would be able to comfort her even better than I could. I felt useless as I listened to her silently cry herself to sleep at night. I felt angry every time she would look longingly to the west, quietly wishing for some snow or mountain range. I would hoot softly when I would watch her stare at the floor, longing it to be carpeted with the pale lavender of her room. She was already breaking and we hadn't even finished our journey.

I tire of the strange looks we accumulate as we walked to get our supplies. Had no one seen an owl perched on a shoulder before? The people in Sitka never looked at my witch like that before. I guess it could be that I was as dark as night. Or that I was the size of a babe a year old. It could have been because my witch never spoke or spared them more than a glance. She was forever searching. She was forever guarding. But in all fairness, I was too. I studied the auras of those I could. Most were untainted and afraid. Every now and then I would see one with dark spots. They had been practicing dark magic. I could not only see the dark, but I could smell it. It was sulfuric and rotted. Those people I would follow with my gaze and make sure they didn't touch my girl.

Finally, after two weeks of mostly silence, we were on the train to our destination. The platform was bustling with nervous children and parents. There were excited young witches and wizards, calling out to their friends and giving their parents last hugs and kisses. I felt my witch's heart hurt in the feeling of being lonely. She wished for her friends so hard, that I could feel my heart begin to break. She wanted to see her father one last time before the daunting task that had been laid before her was to begin. It really was a lot to ask of her from Minerva. But the older witch had been so tense and lost when she arrived two months before, I thought she might fall over from a heart attack. My witch would never leave someone high and dry.

"What are you so understanding about?" hazel eyes bore into my black irises. I just gave her a comforting hoot to let her know I was here and not going anywhere without her.

We embarked on the train. It didn't take her long to find an empty compartment. I pushed off Hernria's shoulder onto the bench. I knew to feel comfortable, she would need to unload her luggage. She pulled out what look like toy boxes. A wave of her wand and they enlarged to her trunks. Even with her tiny stature, she hefted them up to the luggage rack. My witch always makes me feel proud. She is a strong girl with hardly any fear. She may get nervous or overly excited, but she has bearing and discipline. I am very proud of her.

Henria sat down and I could feel the nerves coming off her in waves. She was a little nervous and guarded. It was more pronounced when a black boy opened the compartment door. I felt her stiffen and she began studying the new comer.

I did too. He was a stranger. But he didn't smell like he had any malcontent. I saw him looking over my mistress and sizing her up. Everyone was sizing up everyone these days. I could feel it in the air. No one could trust anyone. I didn't trust anyone, except for my witch and her family. The air was always dark and rotten. It reeked of dark magic. It reeked of fear. But in this compartment, it reeked of mistrust. My witch didn't trust this boy. And this boy didn't trust my witch.

Well, he shouldn't. She hexes first and asks questions later.

After their abrupt conversation that ended with my witch being rude, I hopped onto her shoulder. She stroked my feathers to try and comfort herself. She was doubting her being here. Honestly, I didn't think she could handle it either. Henria's friends, Kadie and Mark, had been with her before I hatched. They had always been with her. During our training, they were on the sidelines, cheering and supporting her.

The door opened again and I smelt Minerva McGonagall before I saw her. She had a warm expression that smoothed the lines in her worried creased face. She was imposing with her rigid posture and her power came off her in waves. The two witches embraced and they started talking. I ignored their conversation and studied the over taxed woman. She was worried about this year. She could feel the skies clouding with the emminent danger. Her cat senses were feeling the shift in power.

They embraced again and she was gone. Henria sat down, her shoulders tense once again. I could feel that her vile drink had run its course and she was drained. I felt so bad for Henria, but I could nothing more than offer her the comfort of my feathers and the encouragement of my soft hoots. It was all she needed to get through the day and it helped. She pulled just enough from me to keep her head up and her senses alert. At night, she would recharge and we could do another day.

I felt her body relax into an easy slumber. I tried to stay awake as long as I could, but the soft rocking motion of the train soon lulled my eyes closed.

A sudden jerk had my talons seeking anchorage on my perch. I felt them dig into soft flesh and immediately regretted my action. Henria caught my body and as soon as I got my bearings, I flew down to the bench. I knew I had hurt my Henria. She would never blame me though. She knew I only did what was natural. But I could tell I had hurt her bad. I tore her soft tissue deeply. Her breathing was labored with the effort not to show the pain on her face. But it was in her brown eyes.

"Let's visit the hospital wing, eh?" her voice had me looking at her cautiously. She only patted the shoulder I had not mutilated and I made my new perch there.

The slow journey to the castle was uneventful. The Thestrals didn't like the work I did. They snorted at the smell of fresh blood and Henria just looked at them fondly. Her fascination with the darker things in life kills me on the inside a little. I've caught her reading up on dark magic before. I can stand the blood magic, that is acceptable because not all blood magic is bad. But I've looked in on some of the pages she has read and had to restrain myself from biting her face off. All those kinds of spells call for is trouble.

I could feel the weakness from blood loss enter her body. I started worry that I had just killed my witch. Her footsteps were sluggish and her breathing was even more labored. I felt my wings itch with the thought to fly ahead and pester whoever was in the hospital wing and get them to Henria post haste. But I knew that Henria would hex my tail feathers unless she were passed out. So, I waited to see how this would play out.

When she pushed the doors open for the hospital wing, she nearly fell over. If I could speak human, I would have started cursing her. But I am an owl; a familiar and all I got to do was watch her right her weakening body and call out for the mediwitch. A small, bossy woman came out looking suspicious. Not many students come in with owls perched on shoulders, I wager. But she took my presence with a grain of salt as she led my witch to a white bed. I hopped from Henria's shoulder onto the pillow and watched the two woman work.

My witch began to relax as a salve was worked into the gashes. I saw the torn red meat and guilt rushed through my blood. I had done that! I had hurt her! I was not supposed to hurt Henria; I am her guardian. I had shredded her flesh and she didn't even bat an eyelash at me in blame. But she should. She won't be able to do anything for many weeks with wounds that deep. I've broken my mistress!

Henria appeared in front of me in clean clothes. I jumped onto the extended hand and she placed me on her uninjured shoulder. I found I couldn't trust myself not to hurt her again and desperately wished she would order to the woods. I didn't want to be near her in fear I would incapacitate her permanently. But she wouldn't. Did I mention she was stubborn? Well, it takes a stubborn owl to know a stubborn witch. We made quite a pair.

The injured witch caught onto my sour mood and chanced a glance into my eyes.

"Quit your moping. I'll be fine." she murmured to try and comfort me, "Beside, you didn't hurt me that bad." I hooted softly in reponse and she ruffled my feathers. She has a good heart.

We paused as we came upon the double doors. A could hear faint chatter coming through the thick wood. My heart beat faster. I'm not ready for this. And I know that Henria isn't ready for this. But for the sake of my mistress, I will be there for her and I will help guide through this terrible journey.

And then I smelt it.

I smelt dark magic. I smelt sulfer and rotting flesh. It clouded my beak and I had to fight the urge to bristle my feathers and screech a warning. Minerva was on the otherside and if she were around, Henria would be safe. Finding the dark wizards amongst the children was Henria's job. That is what she was trained for. I was trained to keep a look out and have her back. That was my calling.

Henria proceeded to push open the doors and the hall went quiet. Kids began to stare. They stared at Henria. They stared at me. They alternated between staring at Henria and I. Henria didn't even bother to glance their way. Her target was Minerva. She needed to inform her what had happened. I was the one who analyzed the new place. Children in green robes had spots in their auras. I was not happy about that. One of the teachers had significant spots. His aura was very dark. Why the hell was this guy a teacher?

I heard whispering and then my witch tensed in frustration.

"He is not dangerous." her cross tone had me looking at the elderly witch. She was eyeing me suspiciously.

The hall erupted into loud whispers. Most of the children were looking in Henria's direction. I felt my gut turn uncomfortably. I hate when people stare at her. It makes me believe they will cause her harm. I don't prefer human blood on my talons. It's harder to wash out.

Henria's body was turning towards the hall and I quietly studied the faces of Henria's new peers. They didn't look much different from the ones back at home. Some looked at her curiously and others sneered in her direction. That is about the same reaction she gets from those in our town. A mixture of caution and curiousity. I should probably think about sharpening my talons tonight. Just to look more menacing.

"Although, while she has a free period, she will attend classes and be known as Miss Henria Sownbinder. She will be a peer amongst you as well."

The silence in the hall was thunder in my ears.