I. A Shadow in the Dark

Night gently extended its dark mantle over Little Whinging. Lights lazily flickered to life inside of homes, and people slowly began to prepare for their sleep. In Number 4 Privet drive, a deafening silence reined the house. Yet, as unnatural as this silence may have seemed to those that have lived long enough to notice how noisy the Dursleys are, this has been the mood since the beginning of the summer. Gone were the bellows of anger from the beefy man with thick hair, bushy moustache, and no neck. Gone were the shrieks of the tall horse-like woman with long neck. It had been replaced with an uneasy silence, born out of fear.

Of course, this much would be clear to anyone who would look on Vernon Dursley's face. A deep shade of purple dominated his features, making him look not unlike a plum. He spent countless hours muttering under his breath, swearing and cursing in manners that most people would deem uncivilized. Petunia Dursley spent her time with a face similar to one that has been given something foul to smell. Her horse-like face was pale and taught. Although she did not mutter and swear like her husband did, her thoughts were less than pleasant. As for the overly large boy currently sitting in front of the television, well, let's just say that as long as his favourite show was on and he had a large supply of food within arm's reach, all was well in the world of Dudley Dursley.

This leaves with the other inhabitant of Number 4 Privet Drive. Unbeknownst to most people, and much to the chagrin of the Dursleys, there was a fourth person in the house. He lay on his bed barely leaving his room, save for those few times were he needed to tend to his body's needs. His unruly jet black hair was plastered on his cold and sweaty brow. His usually vibrant green eyes were dull and bloodshot. A shudder wracked his wiry frame as new tears found their way down his eyes. His lightning bolt scar ached with a dull pain that had not left him since that fateful night at the Ministry. His mind, stuck in what seemed to be an endless loop, constantly replayed the events of that night. Yet it did not play all of the events. No, it seemed as if his mind took some form of sadistic pleasure in forcing him to relive the highlights of the evening: the tentacles of the brains latching on to Ron accompanied by his screams of pain and terror; the sickly purple spell strike Hermione and send her crashing on the cold floor, unable to rise again; the spell from Bellatrix that pushed Sirius through the veil; and the pain from the possession by Voldemort. But of all these, only two made him cry every time that he saw them: the memories of Hermione and Sirius. Sure, he was affected by Ron's as well, but the thought of Hermione being injured was something that he could not bear to watch ever again. The death of Sirius struck him the hardest out of everything. Having lost his parents to the hand of Lord Voldemort had left a vacuum in his heart, one that could never be filled. And yet Sirius had somehow begun to resemble the father figure that Harry never had. And like all those that truly mattered to Harry, he was quickly taken from him.

Tears streamed silently from his eyes, which momentarily flickered with anger towards the Headmaster. Had Harry been informed of the Prophesy sooner, he might have been able to prevent the entire event from ever taking place. Had he known the true nature of the nightmares that had plagued him throughout the entire year, he would have listened to Hermione's warning and would have perhaps acted differently. In the end, his anger was quickly washed away by a feeling of guilt that had become so entrenched in his mind and heart ever since the resurrection of Voldemort and the subsequent death of Cedric Diggory. They died because of me. I am responsible… Sirius… Cedric… my parents… they all are dead because of me, he thought bitterly. It was in these moments of total anguish that he often found himself wishing that he had died early on his first or second year, not so he would have been spared from his suffering, but so that others may have lived on. He still felt his heart wrench at the unconscious body of Hermione as it lay on the Infirmary, pale as Death. She was always there for me, always by my side. And how did I repay her? By sending her to the Hospital Wing after she nearly died from a trap that I dragged her into. I almost lost two people that night. These thoughts continued to plague him through the night, with the only respite coming from a sliver of gratitude towards his relatives for leaving him alone. Of course, he was more than aware that they had been threatened into this not three days ago by the Order, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

Hedwig hooted softly in another attempt to comfort her Master. Ever since they had returned, she had watched in anguish as Harry slipped further and further into depression, and she had been unable to do anything to help him. Over the years, Hedwig had developed a motherly instinct towards her Master. Maybe it was the fact that she had been the first creature to truly show love to the young wizard, but since then she had shouldered the responsibility of looking after Harry in whichever way she could. She often brought him dead mice in an attempt to provide him with some food and much needed comfort, but all her attempts had been useless. She often hooted in frustration at not being able to provide Harry with the loving embrace that he desperately needed. Instead, she was left to watch sadly as he curled himself into a small ball in an attempt of providing the warmth that he required, trying to soothe the pangs from his heart as his thoughts continued to revolve around the faces of Sirius and Hermione.

A sudden cry of rage startled the white owl and prompted her to glide and perch herself on the headboard of the bed. Harry screamed again into the mattress as his heart was filled hatred towards Voldemort for having once again taken something from him. For once again destroying any hopes that he could have of being with a normal, caring family. The screams soon turned to wails of anguish as the Prophecy replayed in is mind, decidedly focusing on one line: "neither shall live while the other survives". How was he, a mere boy of 15 almost 16 supposed to defeat Lord Voldemort, the single most powerful Dark Lord that the world had ever seen? He could barely defend himself against the Death Eaters from his infamous inner circle, and he was supposed to somehow defeat their master? And what was the power that Voldemort knew not? Dumbledore was convinced that it was Harry's ability to love. He seemed even more convinced after Harry had been able to successfully throw Voldemort out of his mind, but how was he supposed to use love? Hug the Dark Lord to Death? And so Harry sank even further into his agony and despair, while Hedwig frenetically hooted her comfort above him. Neither one noticed a figure that was standing outside the window, just far enough that light could not touch his features, but close enough that his outline was still visible.

Standing tall in the shadows stood a man that had not been seen for the past 1,000 years. Had anyone from that time stood there next to him, they would have said that he looked the same, that he had not aged a day. Of course, this was to be expected. After all, this was no ordinary man or wizard. He was one of the last High Elves to exist in the world.

He stood there, clad in black robes that hid the body beneath them. His eyes were like two pools of water of seemingly infinite depth. His skin shone weakly in the moonlight, giving him a god-like aura. His long hair cascaded in a river of the deepest gold with streaks of a dark brown, like the bark of a tree. His pointed ears, a signature of his race, quivered lightly in the night, listening to the faintest of sounds. As all Elves, his senses were heightened beyond those of any creature, magical and non-magical. He could see a person walking from miles afar, and he could hear each step that person took, along with the smell that the person carried with him. His face was one that women would melt over, expressing both ferocity and kindness; power and grace.

To an observant, he would seem not a day over 25. Then again, appearances can be deceiving. Lord Galdir was the oldest Elf alive, being over 1,100 years old. But these things mattered little to him. After all, age was but a number. What truly mattered was the wisdom and knowledge that had been acquired throughout his long years of existence. Casting his mind forward, Galdir reached out and skimmed the thoughts of the troubled youth. To his surprise, he first encountered the worried thoughts of Hedwig. Smiling at the strong bond between the familiar and the boy, Galdir pushed forward, and what he found made him freeze in horror. I should have died that night. Maybe then Sirius would still be alive and Hermione would never have been harmed. I should have died with my parents… Galdir's eyes filled with grief as he continued to listen to Harry's thoughts. So different, and yet so similar, thought Galdir as he absentmindedly stroked the exposed part of his arm, tracing the black lines that were etched on his skin as he supressed a shudder at his memories. He could feel his heart grow cold as he silently relived the horrors of his youth, only to be magnified by the anguish that was rolling from Harry. He felt his eyes begin to change and he started to breathe deeply in order to bring his emotions back under control.

As soon as he was the master of his own emotions, he began to mutter in a language that had not been heard since the times of Merlin and the Four Founders of Hogwarts. Ancient Elvish was now almost a lost art, even amongst the Elves, which preferred to communicate and practice magic in Modern Elvish. But, knowledge of this language was very useful, not to mention its inherent beauty. Slowly increasing his tempo, Galdir raised his voice until it was little more than a whisper. As soon as the spell was completed, he retreated slowly into the night leaving no trace of his presence, save for a calm aura that now seemed to permeate the room were Harry Potter wept silently, unaware of the activity that was taking place where his owl once sat.

Hedwig felt a slight tingle in her as the Elvish magic took over. She was slowly levitated from her perching place as her wings slowly melted into arms, and her legs lengthened into those of a beautiful young woman. Her white feathers faded to leave behind a skin that a Veela would have envied. From her head spilled a stream of silvery hair that was softer than silk. Soon, there stood a woman so beautiful that wars would have easily been waged for her hand. The only remainder of the snowy white owl were her unnaturally bright yellow eyes. Hedwig glided gracefully over to the small mirror that was on the wall and studied herself. So this is what having hands feels like, she thought. She slowly twirled, admiring the soft silk dress that covered her gorgeous figure. A soft wail of anguish interrupted her meanderings as her attention was quickly brought back to her Master. She silently laid herself on the bed and turned Harry from facing the wall and placed his head in her chest. Harry immediately threw his arm over her and gripped her tightly, not caring that there was an unknown woman in her room, instead seeking shelter in the loving warmth that she provided. Hedwig wrapped her arms around Harry and slowly stroked his unruly hair, while whispering soft words of comfort in his ear. "It's okay Harry. I am here for you. You are not alone", she said to him. Slowly, Harry's shuddering slowed down and he eventually drifted into a dreamless sleep, as Hedwig continued to stroke his head, all the while thanking whatever power had allowed her to provide his Master with the comfort that no one else would give him. Shortly after Harry succumbed to the ever loving arms of Morpheus, Hedwig closed her eyes and joined him in the land of dreams.

Harry woke with a start as he sensed a foreign presence on his bed. He was keenly aware of his armed being draped over something. Not something, someone, he thought. Slowly reaching to grab his glasses, green suddenly met yellow as Harry's eyes locked with the stranger on his bed. He quickly realized that it was a woman that was hugging him tightly, a small smile etched on her beautiful face. "Morning Harry. Did you sleep well?" she asked in a voice that reminded Harry of someone, though he could not surmise who it belonged to. He became aware of several facts as his brain suddenly kicked into gear, clearing the cobwebs that had formed from days of inactivity. First and foremost, there was an unknown woman in her bed, and he had no memory of who she was or how she had gotten there. Also, he felt a great deal of trust towards this woman even though he had never seen her in his life. He felt that they knew each other for long, but he could swear it was the first time that he had laid eyes on her. Moreover, he was certain that he would remember having met her, as she was exceptionally beautiful. She looked maybe three to four years older than him, and her beauty easily outmatched that of Fleur and her sister Gabrielle, or at least so thought Harry. Slowly regaining control over his mouth, he managed to stutter a question: "W-Who are you?" he said with a heavy blush making his face glow. If Harry was expecting some form of reaction, the one that he received certainly was not it. The woman began to laugh softly. It was a clear and beautiful laugh that immediately seemed to wash all of Harry's worries away.

"You know Harry, if I didn't know you better, I'd feel insulted that you don't recognize me", she replied sweetly.

"Uhm… You still haven't answered my—" His train of thought was interrupted as his eyes snapped back and really noticed the yellow orbs on the woman's face. They seemed so familiar… "Hedwig?" he asked incredulously.

"Bingo! I mean, I know I look different, but you'd think I'd be easier to recognize" she said as she folded her arms indignantly.

"But how—"

"Think Harry. How could I have changed from a snowy owl to this?" she asked, Harry scrunched his face in thought.

"Magic is the obvious answer but I didn't cast it. I don' think the Ministry would be too happy with me doing magic here again", replied Harry.

"Right on one. It was magic but it was not your own. I would know" she said.

"How would you…? Never mind, better question: how did this happen? It was one of the Order wasn't it? It was Fred or George or Tonks. This has prank written all over it", said Harry cautiously. Hedwig puffed her chest in a way so reminiscent of her owl form and smacked Harry in the head.

"Harry James! How dare you suggest that I am a prank! Here I am in this form to help you and what is your reply? A prank! You'd think that all those years of hanging out with Hermione would've taught you something", she said indignantly. Harry stared confused at her.

"B-But—"

"Listen to me very carefully: you can't transform an animal into a human", she said with her eyes narrowed.

"So you really are Hedwig?" he asked. This earned him another slap on the head.

"Of course I'm Hedwig you big dolt! How else do you explain my mysterious appearance in your room?" she asked.

On hindsight, Harry should not have asked such obvious questions. He knew that it was impossible to fully transfigure an animal into a complete human. It was possible to mimic human behaviour with magic, but it would never be as complex as the attitude of Hedwig.

"Sorry, I guess I should've known", said Harry.

"Darn right you are", replied Hedwig.

"But how? How did you do it?"

"I don't know Harry. I was perched on your bed when I suddenly felt a slight tingling sensation that eventually levitated me away from the bed. My body started to change, and eventually I ended up as you see me now", she explained.

"Hmmm. So can you switch back or do I need to get a new owl?" If looks could kill, Harry would have died the second he uttered the last syllable from the glare that Hedwig gave him.

"You will not get another owl! Of course I can change back! I haven't done it because I can help you more as a human than as a bird. Trust me, I know" she said.

"Help me how?" asked Harry.

"For starters, we'll start with your feelings of the Ministry raid. It's not healthy to bottle up like that Harry, nor should you spend your days like this. Sirius would not be happy if he saw you like this."

The effect was immediate. Upon hearing Sirius' name, Harry's eyes welled up with tears and he started sobbing again. Hedwig quickly reached forward and hugged the weeping boy. "It wasn't your fault Harry. There was nothing you could have done to change things. You did what you felt was right given the little information that you had" she whispered. Harry continued to sob.

"B-But h-e died because of m—"

"You listen to me now Harry James Potter" said Hedwig forcefully. "Sirius' death was not your fault. If you want to blame someone, blame Bellatrix. She was the one that killed him Harry. Not you." Hedwig cupped Harry's head with her hands and forced him to look at her. "You did nothing wrong Harry" she said softly. She's right you know, whispered a voice inside his head that was strangely reminiscent of his own. Sirius died the way that he wanted to die: doing something, defending his godson; not stuck in that horrible house like he had been for so long. Harry could not find any flaws with the voice's reasoning.

"I just miss him so much" he said, breaking down into sobs once more. Save these were not sobs of anguish or self-loathing. This was a child mourning the loss of everything that he ever wanted: his family. For the first time in 15 years, Harry wept for the loss of his parents, Cedric, his godfather, and the childhood that he was denied.

Outside, hidden in the shadows of a nearby tree and a considerable set of wards, Galdir smiled softly as he felt the tension roll off in waves from the young wizard. He noticed quickly that the foul mood of the other inhabitants of Privet Drive was threatening to overtake the warning that they had been given, and he swore softly in Elvish. He does not need this right now you insufferable idiot! Why are you incapable of following the simplest of instructions I wonder? Shaking his head in clear annoyance, he started to mutter softly in Elvish, erecting wards around Harry's room so he would not be disturbed. Satisfied with the results, he proceeded to scan the house for any additional means of protection, having neglected to do so before in favour of providing the grieving child with some much needed support. He quickly spotted some mild blood wards, that were little more than the minimum required to protect someone of such importance as Harry Potter. He also noticed a stumbling figure walking around the side of the house. She was, of course, hidden with a Disillusionment Charm, but Galdir could very easily see through such meagre spell. A metamorphagus! Well, I must say that I am impressed Harry. Quite a unique crowd you hang around with. It has been a long count of years since I last saw one of her kin. At least I know that Harry is reasonably well protected, but a few enhancements are in order, I believe. He began to mutter a very long and complex series of spells in Ancient Elvish, and slowly, an invisible fabric extended itself from his fingertips and began to envelop the house. As soon as the wards were done, Galdir turned around and retreated into the shadows. There is still much to prepare before the next meeting… he thought as he disappeared without a sound.

By the time that Harry finished crying, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders; a weight that he had not even realized he was carrying.

"Feel better?" asked Hedwig.

"Y-Yes. I think it's still going to be a while until I'm fully alright again, but I definitely feel loads better than I used to", replied Harry.

"Good, you certainly look better than you did yesterday", said Hedwig.

"I just can't shake off the feeling that I could've done more to save them. Every time that something happens, I seem to rely too much on luck. And we both know that it has cost me more than it has solved things", said Harry slowly.

"True. You are still alive, which is what matters in the end, at least if the Prophecy is to be believed—"

"How do you know of the Prophecy? I don't remember telling you that", said Harry.

"I don't know. I've been getting a massive overload of information since I changed". Hedwig's brow creased in thought. "Come to think of it, I think that these are your memories. I know way too much, considering for the most part of the year I am cooped up in the owlery at Hogwarts. I think that I have some form of bond with you, but I'm not entirely sure. That is unless…"

"Unless what? I mean, it's not that I mind or anything, it's just weird. I mean, you are a lot smarter than most owls, so I am not that surprised—"

"Oh! How could I have missed that! It was in one of your textbooks from school! You know, the one that described familiars?" Harry just looked at her, confusion written all over his face. Hedwig swatted his head.

"Oi! What was that for?" asked Harry as he gingerly massaged his offended scalp.

"How you can hang out with Hermione and not retain more than the bare minimum is beyond me. There was a passage in one of your books that described that true familiars can form bonds with their masters, and that it would give them a better relationship than most animals", huffed Hedwig.

"So you are a true familiar then?" asked Harry.

"It certainly seems that way. In either case, we got side-tracked. The Prophecy. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't given it much thought to be honest. Dumbledore seems convinced that the power he knows not is love. I mean, it makes some sense given how I managed to push him off my mind when he possessed me, but it still seems a bit farfetched. I mean, it's not like I can hug him to death or something is it?" Hedwig chuckled lightly.

"An amusing thought for sure, but not likely to happen. I cannot guess what that power is either. Given what I have seen, I know that you are unusually powerful, but I don't think that it is anywhere remotely close to matching Voldemort's power", said Hedwig.

"True. I mean, he has decades of experience behind him, and I am barely 16! How am I supposed to do this?!" he yelled in frustration.

"You could begin by preparing yourself a little better", offered Hedwig.

"Come again?"

"Look, it's not like you are really trying in school. If you dedicated yourself a bit more to your studies, it could prove useful. Though you probably won't learn a spell that can defeat Voldemort in class, it can certainly give you the foundations that you need to stop him", she explained.

"Hmm…"

"Look at it this way, Hermione is the brightest witch right?"

"Without a doubt."

"Right, but she just knows things. She can read a book and memorize it, but can she readily apply the spells? Or even, can she perform them on her first try?"

"I guess the answer to both would be no. I mean, Charms and Transfiguration maybe, but not for Defence. And she has difficulties thinking on her feet", he replied.

"Exactly. Now imagine if you had her knowledge of spells combined with your ability to do them all on the first try and with your power."

"But I can't do them on my first try. It's only worked when…"

"When you were properly motivated. Imagine if you could do that constantly, and with a huge knowledge of spells", said Hedwig.

"I mean, it sounds great and all, but how would I even go about it? It's not like I can practice magic here without somebody finding out."

"True, but no one is preventing you from reading. Understand, Harry. You already know the majority of the spells, what you now need is the theory behind them, and also a greater variety. Learn the spells, and when you get to Hogwarts, practice them."

"I guess that would work. I should also reconsider my choices in classes, I suppose", he said thoughtfully.

"It would be a good idea yes. You could see if you can take the same classes as Hermione", she suggested.

"That would work. Could probably get her to tutor me while I'm at it…"

His attention was quickly drawn towards the window, as a small owl sped towards them. As soon as Pigwidgeon entered the room, it started zooming all over the place, until it finally decided to settle on Hedwig's perch. He quickly abandoned that idea after receiving a death glare from Hedwig. He proceeded to offer Harry his leg so he could remove the two letters that were attached to it.

"Well, they are from Ron and Hermione. But I'll look at them later. Right now, I am in urgent need of a shower and food", said Harry. Hedwig nodded.

"You do stink you know", she said.

Harry chuckled softly as he gathered his things and left for the bathroom. After his shower, Harry left for the kitchen in the hopes that he would be able to nick some food from the kitchen. To his surprise, the Dursleys had decided to leave for the day, since the house was empty. He fixed himself a better breakfast that he would have otherwise, completely unaware that the food that he took magically restored itself. Bringing some extras so he could feed Hedwig, Harry returned to his room. He entered in the middle of a staring match between Hedwig and Pigwidgeon. Pig seemed to want to move back to the comfort of the perch, and Hedwig's stare was daring him to do so. In the end, Pig elected the safest choice and quickly left the room. Harry laughed for the first time since he had returned.

"I don't know what you wanted to eat, so I just brought you some of what I had", offered Harry.

"Thanks. I believe that human food should sit well with me while I am in this form", she said. After eyeing the food that was brought to her, she decided to meticulously eat it. While she had her breakfast, Harry decided to read the letters that he had received.

Harry,

How are you mate? How are the muggles treating you? Haven't heard from you since we got back from school.

Things are boring here at the Burrow, although the Order does keep having meetings every so often.

I really wish Snape would stop coming. That slimy git.

Anyway, hope to hear from you soon mate.

Ron

Harry sighed after finishing the letter. That was Ron alright. Short and to the point. At least he had not mentioned Sirius. I probably have Hermione to thank for that he thought. He placed the letter aside and wrote a quick response in some spare parchment that he had lying nearby.

Ron,

I'm fine. The muggles have ignored me the entire time that I've been here. Kind of thankful for that actually.

How can things be boring with the Order there?

Yeah, I agree about Snape. But he is on our side, or so we are told.

How is your family?

Harry

He rolled it up and prepared it for Hedwig, who was currently drinking her glass of orange juice. Harry smiled at her and then turned to Hermione's letter.

Dear Harry,

How are you? How are your relatives treating you? How are you coping?

I sincerely hope that you are not blaming yourself for anything that happened. Harry, it was NOT your fault. You had no way of knowing it was a trap and took the decision that you felt was right with the information that you had.

Do not blame yourself for Sirius' death. He died defending you, which I am sure is what he would have wanted.

I'm fine. Fully recovered and already started the assignments. Already finished with Defence, Charms and Potions. Have you started your assignments yet? You should really try to finish them on time this year, I know you are usually trying to finish them at the last minute like Ron is. He is a bad influence on you.

On a different note, you will be pleased to know that the Daily Prophet has finally accepted that you were right and have stopped printing bad things about you. The news that they are printing are very grim though. There have been several attacks against muggles already and also some against muggleborns. Nothing major, but there have been enough Deaths for people to start panicking. The Order is worried, since they have not been able to track the attacks or stop them.

Anyway, I hope that you are fine and doing your homework.

When do you think you can come over? I am staying with the Weasleys and I really miss being with you.

Love,

Hermione

He found that although the mentioning of his godfather did make him sad, it did not depress him as it would have before this morning. His brow creased in worry at the news of the Death Eater attacks. He knew that Voldemort was gathering more followers, and that his attacks would only increase in number and violence. A feeling of impotence crept over him, as he knew that he could do nothing to stop them from happening. Shaking his head, Harry wrote his reply to Hermione and called Hedwig.

"Do you think you can deliver these form me? I would have sent them with Pig, but you kind of scared him away", he said with a smile.

"I did no such thing. It's not my fault that owl is so bloody annoying. Seriously, is it really that hard for him to stay put in one place?" she said in annoyance.

"Probably not. But then again, that's Pig for you. Both of them are at the Burrow, so you can just deliver the letters there", said Harry as he offered the letters to her.

"Fair enough. I want to see you with your nose in the books when I return though. It shouldn't take me that long."

Hedwig stretched herself from the bed, and started glowing softly as she prepared for the change. With a small pop, the snowy owl that Harry had always known was standing near his window. She offered her leg so he could tie the letters to it.

"Be careful girl. I'll see you when you get back." Hedwig hooted in reply and nipped his fingers gently. With a flap of her wings, she took off. Harry watched her until he could not follow her anymore, and with a sigh, grabbed a book from under his bed and started reading.

Having returned from his other tasks, Galdir watched as Hedwig left the house with two letters attached to her leg. Quickly muttering in Elvish, he warded the owl so no harm would happen to her, and to make sure the letters were not intercepted. Turning around to face Number 4, he reached out with his consciousness and located Harry in his bedroom reading. I'm glad that the spell worked as expected. He seems much more at ease now, thought Galdir. He also seems more determined to learn spells and broaden his horizons. I shall have to return to that later on, once certain things have been dealt with. Well, might as well make myself comfortable. It's going to be a while. After a quick spell, Galdir conjured a pillow and began to meditate.

Lord Galdir continued to watch over Harry as the day waned slowly into the night. A figure flickered next to him, awakening from his meditative state. His robes were grey, as opposed to the black that Galdir wore. His eyes flickered a light brown in the growing shadows.

"Lord Duvainor, to what do I owe this pleasure tonight?" asked Galdir in Modern Elvish. His voice was cold, and the temperature of the area seemed to drop by a couple of degrees. Lord Duvainor seemed unaffected by his tone, but his eyes sparkled with anger.

"A message from the Council, Lord Galdir. They have agreed to place the next gathering two days from now. Your presence is requested, as usual." The projection's voice sounded strained, and Galdir could clearly see the sneer that was on his face. Galdir sighed.

"It is not customary to give so short notice on a meeting like this. Is there something that you are withholding, Lord Duvainor?" he asked coolly. The relation with Duvainor was stressed to say the least. There was long feud between the two families. The feud itself was not the problem. It was the topic that it was on that was the issue, and the actions that this feud had spurned.

"No, Lord Galdir", answered Duvainor with a sneer that would make Snape proud. "I am merely passing on the message that was given to me by the Head."

"Very well Lord Duvainor. I shall see you at the meeting then. May the stars watch over you" He raised two fingers to his brow in the accustomed sign of farewell. Of course, the fact that they even bothered with such trivialities was a mark of their upbringing. After all, formalities must be observed.

"May they watch over you, Lord Galdir." Duvainor mimicked the gesture disdainfully and swiftly disappeared. Galdir returned to watching over Harry, who was beginning to fall asleep over his desk. With a quick mental suggestion to get to bed, the youth slowly transferred his tired body from his chair to his bed and promptly fell asleep. Ensuring that there would be no disturbances in his sleep, Lord Galdir disappeared into the night.