Back at the Burrow, Hedwig had to say goodbye to Crookshanks because Hermione wasn't coming to stay with them. At least she had Arnold and Pigwidgeon.

Hedwig stayed obediently in her cage and kept an eye of Harry. Pigwidgeon did the same, so they never did much talking. When Arnold came round, Hedwig would chat a bit but other than that she was rather quiet.

Hedwig supposed that she could never plan much with anyone else around. She also learned that Harry had eavesdropped during Slughorn's party and found out Professor Snape had tried to help Draco do something. She pondered about this for a while, wondering if she'd have to help him to find out what Draco was up to as well.

On Christmas Eve night, everyone had been downstairs. Guests had arrived, the rooms decorated, and food cooked. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon could smell the delicious scents floating into Ron's bedroom. Arnold had even come up to stay while Ginny was downstairs, he would leave when he heard voices come up the stairs.

They were gathered round Harry's trunk with books and clothes pouring out, talking about a dull Christmas and other bedtime stories that made Hedwig yawn. But Arnold was a young Pygmy Puff and wanted to hear more stories, tragic or happy.

'And then the little owl flew far, far away where they could never find her.' Pigwidgeon finished dramatically. After a pause, he added, 'While it was snowing.'

They turned to Hedwig. She was out of stories, but to make them happy, she decided to make one up.

'Erm, there once was a— give me an animal, I'm out of names.' She turned to them.

'Rat,' said Pigwidgeon, thinking about 'Scabbers'. Hedwig made a face.

'No, let's make it a mouse; I'm not a fan of rats once Peter betrayed Harry.

'So that particular mouse was a small gold coloured one. It looked like a snitch. The mouse's name was Snitch- I'll name it snitch anyways- and he was very curious. He learned about the real snitch and wanted to look like one and be able to—'

'Fly,' suggested Pigwidgeon. Hedwig snorted.

'Flying is natural. Mice don't just fly.'

'Fly,' Pigwidgeon repeated insistently.

'Oh all right, fly. He wanted to fly. So he wished he could attach a pair of wings or charm himself by a wand so he could go wherever he wanted. Then he met a mail owl and asked what it was like to fly. Give me a name for the owl.'

'Wings,' Arnold suggested, and then made a face. 'No, that's lame.'

'It doesn't matter; it's a made-up story, not like it's going to be published. So, yes, Wings told the mouse that it felt quite normal and that he should try—' Hedwig never got to finish her sentence. There was a shuffling sound of footsteps and voices, and then Arnold said, 'Bye Pig, Hedwig, finish the story later!' and rolled out in a flash. Hedwig was surprised and wondered where Arnold had learned to roll that fast.

'Humph,' she said. 'Well, I guess I'll finish tomorrow.'

She glanced at the side of Harry's trunk, and then suddenly remembered her trick on Romilda. She had told her friends, and they agreed it was brilliant. Hedwig wondered if it really worked.

'All right then Pig, time to go to sleep,' she said to Pigwidgeon as the voices got louder.

A/N: The next chapter I'll express Arnold's thoughts.