Hedwig stretched her legs through to the toes. She'd never thought she could miss being human, but it had been a long year without it, and she suddenly wasn't as used to constantly being an owl. She lay across Harry's bed while he was rummaging around frantically. Moonlight was shining through the window, and he wasn't being as quiet as he ought to have been. Harry was walking circles around his opened, but empty trunk.

"Just pack," she scolded him. "He's going to come."

Harry stared again at the letter from Dumbledore, telling him that the Headmaster was going to come and take Harry to the Burrow mere hours from now. He shook his head. "If he doesn't, I'll have to unpack everything for the rest of the summer here. It would be unbearable."

Hedwig rolled her eyes and sat up. "He's going to come, I feel it. Besides, now you're just going to throw everything in your trunk at random when he does come. You're bound to lose something."

"When have I ever lost anything?" he retorted, taking a seat in his chair but still fidgeting.

"Loads of times, Harry, you just never noticed because I always kept track."

"Well thanks, I guess." He was fiddling with the letter now, rolling it back and forth in his palm.

"He's going to come."

He just shot her a look, an "I can't take that risk" sort of look, and she rolled her eyes again. He was stubborn. She guessed that was one of the things she liked about him, though it drove her mad. They were often both too stubborn to deal with each other.

"Have it your way, but when Dumbledore shows up, I am going to be ready." She gave him a slightly condescending look as she changed, and fluttered into the open cage. She pulled the door closed with her beak and waited for him to latch it.

He grinned at her, but got up and shut the cage. "If he doesn't come, I'm not letting you out of there."

She stared right at him. I dare you.

When Harry had fallen asleep in his chair, snoring and oblivious to Hedwig's attempts to wake him, Dumbledore showed up precisely on time. Harry jolted awake and began to run around the room, throwing objects randomly into his trunk. Hedwig hooted gloatingly, and he just looked briefly at her as he ran around. "You win."

In all honesty, he was too excited about the prospect to care much that she'd been right. They were going to the Burrow, and not even an injury to Harry's pride could spoil that.


"What do you think of Dean Thomas?"

Harry and Hedwig were sitting in their room again, Hedwig staring out the window and thinking of flying despite the dreary rain, and Harry sitting on a table playing with his Invisibility Cloak.

"I'm sorry?" she said, turning to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You know, Dean Thomas. Is he…do you think he's…y'know, handsome?"

Hedwig stared at him. She considered for a moment. "I…suppose, yes."

Harry frowned and stared down at his cloak. She backpedaled. "Or not? What is this about?"

"It's nothing." He looked away from her, at the opposite wall.

"Harry, it's me."

He turned his head around, and exhaled. When he spoke, it was a soft, ashamed sort of voice. "It's Ginny. She's dating Dean, and I don't understand why."

Hedwig had to suppress a laugh. The sudden interest in Dean's looks instantly made more sense. She had been aware of Harry's pining after Ginny for the better part of this year. He'd been talking about her more, and occasionally when she saw him at breakfast she'd catch him staring at Ginny while he ate.

"You like her," she said, smiling. It wasn't a question.

He threw his Cloak aside. "No, that's not it, no, I just wonder what she sees in him is all…"

"Oh, stop, Harry. You can't fool me. We know each other too well for lies."

"You fooled me into thinking you were an owl for two years," he pointed out.

She shoved him playfully. "That wasn't a lie. I am an owl." He laughed slightly, then looked down at his hands. She sat next to him and spoke more softly.

"They'll break up, you know. Not even because they aren't getting on that well, just because she's fifteen. It's bound to happen sooner or later. And when it does, you just have to do something about it."

He groaned. "Like what? The only date I've ever had was with Cho, and that was a disaster! The only other thing even close was…" He trailed off like the unfinished kiss that still hung in the Gryffindor common room. The one that an ever-smaller part of Harry still wished they could go back to. The one that Hedwig would never admit she missed.

"It was a disaster with Cho because it wasn't right. Also because you're terrible with girls, but mostly it just wasn't right." She took his hand. "It's not like I have so much experience, either. I'd say just follow your heart. When the time comes, seize it. Girls like spontaneity, anyway."

"I hope so," he muttered. "Because there is no way I can plan anything that won't make me look like a total git."

She laughed softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. He was sixteen now, almost of age. He seemed to have stopped growing taller, but there as a new sort of maturity in him now, something she couldn't measure. "You're way better than Dean Thomas, Harry. Once Ginny realizes that for sure you'll have no problem."


Hedwig felt the commotion before she heard it, and well before she saw it. There was a great rumbling in the Owlery, a shifting of feathers, a disconcerted hooting from every corner and every perch. Her instincts were telling her that something was wrong, like a thunderstorm brewing or an earthquake building. The other owls felt it too – they became agitated, trying too hard to stay still.

Then there was the noise. Shouts from downstairs, though it was too late for shouting. Running footsteps, a few shrieks. And then the unmistakable sound of spells being cast. Hedwig's whole body tensed; something was very wrong. She took off immediately for the highest window, trying to catch a glimpse of something, of anything. Then she saw it, high and shimmering in the sky. Though it was her first time bearing actual witness, she had heard it described often enough to realize she was staring directly at the Dark Mark.

She was diving before she even realized it. There were Death Eaters around, maybe Voldemort himself. That's what the commotion was. There'd been a breach at Hogwarts. She didn't care how, or when, or who, or even what they wanted. She only cared about finding Harry. She flew first to Gryffindor Tower, rapped on the dormitory window, but no one answered. Only Neville seemed to be in, flying past in a panic, grabbing his wand and pulling up his pajama bottoms. No Harry.

Where could he be? Knowing him, he was somewhere in the fight. He was throwing himself into danger. She flew back in through the open Owlery window, past the terrified barks of the other owls. The hallways were already chaos. Jets of light flying this way and that, Death Eaters trampling after students Hedwig recognized. But no Harry. She expected him to be leading the charge, but he was nowhere in sight. She dodged a jet of light and dove farther down, hitting herself on the floor of the corridor and skidding along. She got up slowly, and took off wobbling. That was when she saw a flash of red – not a spell, but someone's hair. Ginny. He'll be with Ginny.

She followed Ginny, who was running to take a defensive position against a fierce looking Death Eater she was dueling. They traded spells, and Ginny was miraculously unharmed as she sent a Stunner straight to his chest and knocked him clean over. But Harry didn't appear to be with her. Hedwig flew over, just to make sure, but Ginny was up and running away again. "Hedwig?" Her eyes widened and she briefly stopped. "Hedwig, get out of here!" Hedwig followed Ginny anyway, convinced she would be going wherever Harry was. It was like Ginny understood her, in that moment, because she responded. "Hedwig, Harry's not here! Get out of the battle!" And she ran off.

Hedwig stopped, hovering in midair. What did she mean, Harry wasn't here? Where would he be? He'd be in the fight, he'd be doing something…no….no, he was doing something. He'd gone off with Dumbledore. He had told her earlier, but she had forgotten. It was possible he wasn't even in the castle. Wherever he was, surely he was with Dumbledore. Surely he was safe.

As she hung suspended, she saw several figures rush past her, coming out of the Astronomy Tower. They were mostly Death Eaters, casting curses as they ran. It looked like they were fleeing. Have we won? she thought. Is Harry okay? Among them, Severus Snape ran fastest of all, sprinting down the corridor and deflecting spells thrown at him. When he was out of sight, Harry came bounding down the stairs. Thank Merlin, he didn't look hurt, but he was pulsing with rage. He sprinted after the Death Eaters, shouting.

Hedwig snapped herself out of the trance. Harry was going to do something stupid. He was going to get himself killed. She flew after him, down the corridor, speeding through the air, but she could not catch him. She had never seen him move this fast. Suddenly they were on the grounds, and Harry was giving chase and throwing spells, until Snape was forced to turn and face him. They were having a confrontation, shouting and dueling. Hedwig did not know what she could do. She thought maybe she could distract Snape long enough to help, but she didn't know if it would do any good – she only knew that Harry was too angry to realize that he could not win this fight.

It was just when she was scrambling for any way to help that she spotted him – Buckbeak was circling Hagrid's hut, which had gone up in flames under a Death Eater's curse. She raced toward him. Buckbeak knew Harry; Buckbeak owed Harry his freedom. She barked as loudly as she could manage, praying he would hear her. Buckbeak! BUCKBEAK!

He stopped circling briefly to look at her, eyes shining with rage for Hagrid. She only had to say one word: Harry! He looked downward, where Harry was sprawled on the ground, scrambling for his wand. They were still yelling, but Hedwig could not make out the words. Snape threw another curse at Harry, and he cradled his face and screamed in agony. Buckbeak dove with a mighty shriek and scratched wildly at Snape. He cried out in terror and ran for the gates. Harry was safe. He would be okay. Even now, as Hedwig looked back to her boy, he was stumbling towards Hagrid's hut. She flew after Buckbeak, who was chasing Snape to the Hogwarts gate. As soon as the wizard reached it, he Disapparated and was gone. Buckbeak made a discontented noise, but slowed his speed. Hedwig caught up to him, utterly out of breath.

Thank you, she said. Thank you.

He merely looked to her and inclined his head slightly, then flew back toward Hagrid. Hedwig tried to follow after him, but lost speed. She was exhausted, and losing altitude. She found Harry enchanting jets of water onto Hagrid's burning hut, and glided slowly to the ground. Harry saw her, and his eyes went wide. She saw him experience shock, then relief, then pain, though she did not know exactly why. While Hagrid was distracted with one side of the house, Harry approached Hedwig cautiously.

"Are you all right? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" She had never seen him so worried. She hooted softly, affirmatively, and hopped onto his arm. He stroked her feathers, and stole a glance back toward Hagrid. "You look exhausted. Rest a while, go back to the Owlery. There'll be –" he choked momentarily. "There will be things I have to do. I'll come and get you when it's over." She nipped his shoulder affectionately, her silent thanks that he was alive, that he was okay. He smiled at her and sent her off, where she flew gratefully back to the Owlery.

She tried to wait up for him, but there had been too much excitement. She woke instead to the soft sound of his slippers on the Owlery floor, and his gentle call of "Hedwig!" Immediately she was concerned again. She felt suddenly as if she was just waking up to the chaos. It took her a moment to realize she'd already found Harry, and they were going to be okay.

When they were in their room again, and she was changed back, she held him tight. "I'm so glad you're okay," she muttered into his shoulder. "I was worried, I couldn't find you, I thought you'd be with Ginny but you weren't. And you! Picking a fight with Snape! You know you can't beat him." Her tone was angry, but she took a step back to look at him, to make sure he was okay. He did not seem happy to be alive. His mouth was a hard, thin line. She put a hand on his shoulder, regretted scolding him. "Hey, it's okay, Harry, you're okay now."

He spoke in a deadpan. "Dumbledore's dead."

Hedwig had not known Cedric. Hedwig had only thought of Harry when she had heard of Sirius. This, this was different. It was like a brick in her stomach. Dumbledore had been Harry's ultimate hope. He had been Hedwig's ultimate hope. He was the reason that Hogwarts was safe, he was the reason that good could triumph over evil. He cared about Harry nearly as much as she did. The thought of him gone, just absent from their world…it was too much.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, he can't be. He can't."

Harry was still emotionless, staring with empty sort of eyes. "I watched Snape kill him."

Suddenly it made sense. Harry's reckless running after Snape. The shouting, the spells, the disregard for his own safety. Snape had killed Dumbledore. Snape had killed Dumbledore. She had been wrong – everything was not okay. Harry had come out of it alive, but Dumbledore – the one thing that had seemed permanent, stable, constant – Dumbledore was dead.

For the second time since Harry had known her, Hedwig cried. It did not take her by surprise this time: she felt the tears coming, like a wave building behind her eyes. Harry put his arms around her gently, and she wept into his shoulder. "This isn't right," she said. "It's not right."

Harry had grieved several times with several people tonight alone, but now he felt it differently. He cried with her, spilling tears into Hedwig's blonde hair and onto her bony shoulders. For the first time, Hedwig was not holding Harry while he broke down, nor was Harry holding Hedwig. They stood in the center of their room, holding each other, crying together, only supported by their mutual leaning. Neither was composed, neither was stable. They held on to each other for their very lives, crying for one of only two things they had always been sure would be there. The echoes of Fawkes's mourning song could still be heard on the grounds, and with every melancholic note, they held tighter.