She had decided not to change in front of him. It would only scare him. Even seeing as much as he had, she understood she was one of few constants in his life. This thought formed a lump in her throat. It almost made her not want to tell him.

She waited for a time when the Dursleys went out, and they took their horrible son with them. Harry had been left alone, which was not always the case. And he left his room, just for a moment, just for long enough to give her the chance. It was now or never.

Hedwig took a deep breath and fluttered calmly from her cage. He kept it unlatched for her when no one was looking, and she easily opened the door. She positioned herself on his bed, atop his rumpled sheets and careless scraps of notes and doodles. Then her eyes closed, and she did it.

It was odd, the change. Quick and slow at the same time. It felt both like becoming something you weren't and returning to what you were, like falling asleep and waking up at the same time. It had been a while between human periods; she had been feeling more and more comfortable on her perch. Without thought or pain, she was herself again: or a version anyway. Pale, and too thin, with a single sheet of blonde hair, and the air of a person who was once broken. Her clothes had come with her, as usual, but they felt uncomfortable now. Muggle clothes she had picked up far too long ago to remember, lying oddly on her bony frame. The one constant was her eyes: the same deep amber in either form.

He was coming back. He was expecting an empty room and a full cage. Would he scream? Would he run? Would he be appalled that she had been living with him this whole time? She bit her bottom lip as he entered, and tried to look nonthreatening.

Harry walked into the room nonchalantly, certainly not expecting anyone to be inside. He didn't scream. His eyes simply grew wide, and in a flash he'd whipped out his wand. She felt small, suddenly, and frightened. It was not a condition she was used to, certainly not from her boy.

"Who are you?" His words were calm, but his fingers tightened around the wand.

"Put that away." She stood up slowly, arms raised. "I'm not going to hurt you. Besides, I'm unarmed."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but held the wand tighter. "Who are you?" he repeated.

"Please. Set it down." She was nervous at wandpoint. She needed a clear head to break the news to him.

She watched him deliberate for a moment. She had seen the face a thousand times; deciding whether it was worth it to give Dudley a swift punch, wondering which shirt to wear, calculating his next action in a time of danger. After a moment, he put the wand slowly in his pocket, not taking his eyes from her. "For the last time: who are you?"

A breath of relief escaped her. She tried to look at him the way she always did, tried to restore the familiarity they'd had not five minutes ago. "Harry, it's me." He was puzzled. "It's Hedwig."

It was the first time she'd tasted the name in her mouth, but it didn't feel out of place there.

"Hedwig." He was skeptical. His eyes flitted between her and the cage, which was clearly empty. He took a look at the firmly locked window, too. "Hedwig…my owl."

She nodded, and took a small, exploratory step toward him. "It's me."

"You're crazy," he said. "What have you done with Hedwig?" His eyes were flitting routinely back to the cage now, a look of panic accruing in them.

"I'm not crazy," she said. "And I am Hedwig. I'm an Animagus." She took a pause and a breath. "Like Sirius. Like your father."

His wand was on her again, anger flashing quickly in his eyes. "How do you know -?"

But before he could finish, she was changing again. Looking always at him, she folded herself back into her owl form. Once there, it felt as natural as the human form had – her wings no more out of place than arms, feathers no different than skin. She looked up at him, at her boy, whose eyes were wide with shock. She fluttered up to his eye-level, and he raised an arm for her automatically. It wasn't conscious; it was years of the same habit. She took it, a comfortable seat for her, and nipped him affectionately, as she had a hundred times. She focused her eyes on his, so green and so confused.

He was bewildered for a moment. "He-Hedwig?" he sputtered. He searched her face for something, trying to find a difference, but she knew he would realize eventually; this was his owl, his constant, his friend.

There was a sound from downstairs, a distinctly loud and lumbering and Dursleyish sound, and Harry turned to face it. He looked back at her, still unable to decide what to feel.

"They'll be in in a second, to check, to see I haven't made any trouble, so, er, stay…like this? I mean, you know that, I guess, you're…" He trailed off and took her back toward the open cage, where he placed her gently. He closed the door and secured the latch. His eyes ran from it to her, flustered. "Er, sorry." She ran her beak along his hand to show him she didn't mind. He only blinked once and then tried to assume an unobvious position on the bed.

When the door creaked open, it seemed that the first thing to enter was a birdlike nose. Aunt Petunia followed it, staring disapprovingly into the room. "What are you doing in here?" Her voice almost came out as a chirp.

"Nothing." There was a bite in his tone that might have seemed like anger if Hedwig hadn't known he was nervous.

"I heard your voice. You don't have…" she seemed nervous. "You haven't got any of that freak business in here?"

"No, I haven't," he said curtly.

"Then who were you talking to?" Her arms were crossed over each other like two wires twisted together. He sat up and stared her down. Oh, Harry, Hedwig thought. Don't be stupid.

"Just Hedwig." She was amused to realize he didn't even need to lie.

"The creature?" Petunia clicked her tongue distinctively. Then her eyes were on Hedwig, with the same disapproving glance she'd seen a hundred times. The look that said vermin. Hedwig was too proud for it to bother her, but Harry had a definite squirm in him.

"Yes, Hedwig. Is that a problem?"

Petunia snapped her fowllike gaze back to him. Hedwig was surprised she could speak through her pursed lips. "Make sure it stays quiet." Then she was gone.

Harry sprung up, nervously, back to the cage. He didn't know what to do with the new information. There was definitely a different look in his eyes, though she couldn't tell if it was an improvement. "So…I need to, I mean, we should wait until they're in bed at least, but, I'd…like to talk to you." She nipped his fingers, which she hoped he could recognize as affirmation. His fingers slipped as he undid her latch, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid of being harmed by whatever came out. Then she glided to his desk, and perched there like she usually did when he was writing and she was waiting to carry his letters somewhere.

He looked at her, like he hadn't ever looked at her. His eyes were moving rapidly back and forth, the way they always did when he was experiencing something new. She was used to the look; their first year, she had seen it thousands of times. He didn't realize how well he actually knew her, but it was clear she knew him better than ever. "I don't mean to stare or anything, I'm just…confused." She hooted reproachfully. It's just me, Harry.

She couldn't tell if he got her meaning, but he hadn't often misinterpreted her before. He smiled at her for the first time since he'd learned. She gave him an approving sort of coo in return. This was what she wanted.

For a while, he did a sort of dance around her. They were waiting for the snoring to begin, so she could change again. She was used to this: this had been her everyday routine for the past two years, and she knew how to deal with that. But Harry was confused. She watched him try to read his books, try to tidy the room, try to practice catching a snitch-sized ball. Every few seconds, though, he was looking at her again. Shuffling nervously from task to task. Unsure what to do. He obviously didn't want to talk to her now that he knew she could answer back: he wanted to wait to hear her. So he was silent with her in his room, like they'd been together for months on end, because for him something was different.

She wasn't bothered. She thought it was sweet, and certainly one of the best reactions she could have imagined. And in all honesty, she liked the attention.

Then, what seemed to her suddenly, the usual symphony of snoring had begun and it was time. He heard it too, and gave her an encouraging look. She flew to the spot beside him, and after a second, she was her normal height, slightly taller than him, watching him cope with the shock all over again.

"I can't…get used to that."

"You will," she replied. "I did."

"So you've been…I mean…where do I start?"

She smiled at him, a tiny laugh bubbling up. "Hello, Harry Potter. I'm Hedwig. We met two years ago."

"Er…hi. So Hedwig is your actual name, then?"

"Well, no. Not the one I had originally. But it's my name now. Sure, you said it first, but I like it. I've decided it suits me."

"What were you called before?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. "Oh, the usual stuff. Snowball, Sugar, Cupcake…and Nina, once."

"No, I meant…" he hesitated. "I meant the first one."

Her heart dropped a little, but she kept her eyes on his and her chin up. "I don't remember. It's been too long being mostly an owl. I've had too many names given to me by too many people."

He scratched his head. "Well, I think…you're right. Hedwig does suit you."

"Thank you." She flashed a smile at him. "That's why I picked it."

His turn to grin. "I picked it."

"No, you came up with it. I decided that I would allow it."

He laughed a little. She really loved to see him laughing.

"So you're an Animagus."

"I should think that's fairly obvious. But yes. Animagus. Taught myself to be one when I was young, younger than you. It was difficult, and it took years. But my father helped me. He used to turn into a great leaping Saint Bernard."

"Your father?" He raised his eyebrows. Perhaps he hadn't yet thought of her as a being with parents.

She only paused slightly. "Gone now. Mum too. Let's not talk about it." She brushed it off easily, the same way she usually brushed it from her mind. He seemed reluctant to let it go, but whether it was curiosity or suspicion she couldn't tell.

"So you're a witch, but… why aren't you going to school?"

She felt the urge to squirm, but as usual, she held it back. "Why would I? I already know everything." Her easily arrogant tone didn't convince him. He was looking at her that concerned way he did two summers ago, when he knew she was restless and hungry and couldn't help her. "Okay. I never had the chance. I'm unregistered, you know. As an Animagus, as an everything. I'm on nobody's radar. Don't exist." She forced a weak smile. "I never even had a wand of my own. I'm not really much of a witch. Really I'm more of an owl."

He looked upset. She hoped to Merlin that it wasn't with pity. "Look, I like it that way. I can hunt on my own terms, I can fly wherever I want, and I have a really peaceful, stress-free life. And besides, it was more of the owl in me that led me to you anyway, so I think it's serving me just fine."

"What do you mean led you to me? Like fate or something?" He was picturing Trelawney and crystal balls.

She knew nothing of that. "No, Harry. Not fate. I picked you."

He raised his eyebrows playfully. "Come on. Hagrid bought…I wasn't even there."

"Of course not. But I saw him with you, and I persuaded him to take me to you."

He seemed skeptical. He didn't know how well she could get what she wanted, even without words. "Why me, then? If you could pick anybody?"

She chuckled a little. "Well isn't it obvious? Aren't you the Boy Who Lived?" His slight smile vanished instantly. He averted his eyes in a way that caused a sharp jolt in her heart. "I'm sorry, Harry, I was kidding. I didn't even know, then. Who you are."

His tone was decidedly surlier. "Well, that's a first, isn't it?" He still wasn't looking at her, and the anger was creeping into his manner.

"Honestly, Harry. I'm on nobody's radar, I told you that. I didn't know. To me, you were just an eleven-year-old wizard wandering for the first time through Diagon Alley."

"So why, then? Why me, if I was nothing special?"

She was briefly shocked. "Harry, just because I didn't know about Voldemort's curse doesn't mean you were nothing special."

He was silent for a minute. She continued. "I felt a connection to you, I guess. Or maybe I just thought you seemed sweet. I'd been in a lot of households that…weren't. But you were kind-looking, and so young, and you didn't know anything. I wanted to watch you discover the world."

He turned his gaze back to her, and the anger was gone. He was looking at her again, like she was something new. She was not expecting what he said next. "You said his name," Harry sputtered. "Voldemort. You said it."

She'd heard the step-arounds: You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, The Dark Lord. It had not occurred to her that she was supposed to use them, too. It had been years since she'd talked to another wizard at all. "I only learned his name when we went to school. I wasn't raised with the fear, Harry. I don't know to cringe at the sound."

"I understand that better than anyone." Their hands were lying beside each other on his bed, inches apart. He was beginning to look at her the same way he always had, with the same easy companionship. Then it broke.

He stood up suddenly, crossed the room and stared at the wall. "So I guess you're leaving then."

She stood up after him. "What?"

He turned around, face deliberately calm. "I mean, that's why you're telling me, right? Because you've decided to…leave? Move on and go somewhere else? That's why you're telling me?"

Her mouth fell open, just slightly. She had to take a moment to pull herself together. "I've never told this to anyone, Harry. You think it's my parting gift? I'm unregistered. This is not a secret I hand out lightly."

"And you think you can tell me?" His expression was unreadable.

"I trust you, Harry. I know you. You think I've been here all this time because I had nowhere else to go?" She took a step toward him. "I'm not telling you because I've decided to leave, Harry. I'm telling you because I've decided to stay."

There was shock, first, and a hint of denial. Then, oh so slowly, he broke into a calm, steady smile, arriving in pieces like he still wasn't sure its source was real. He felt as if his heart was swollen. "That's…brilliant." He was beaming now. "But, er, are you sure? Isn't it weird for you?"

She couldn't hold back a return smile. He was so young. Only a few years younger than her, yes, but so new. He didn't understand her when she said she was more of an owl than a witch. He didn't understand that it felt nearly the same to her, in owl form. She responded by changing again, watching his eyes widen naturally. She leapt up to him, in a flutter of wings, enthusiastic. He put up his arm instinctively, the way he always did. She took her spot and nuzzled her head against his shoulder.

He stroked her head slightly, hesitantly. "I see your point."