HPFF(6)
Harry was angry. He didn't know who he was angry at, or why, but nothing mattered at the moment. He needed some time to himself to sort things out. Solitude was just what the young Gryffindor needed.
Harry opened the boys' dorm window and plunged out – after 6 years, he had his mid-air starts up to a remarkably professional level and his trusty old Nimbus 2000 cruised through the atmosphere faultlessly. He flew for a minute, observing the school grounds from a safe bird's-eye view. Harry saw tiny figures freegliding, playing Quidditch and socializing outside. Hagrid's cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest looked like a brown Muggle-Monopoly house.
At this point, the young seeker wondered why exactly a forbidden forest was on a school campus and why it was called "The Forbidden Forest." In his opinion, this fact supported the widespread theory that adults did not understand the desires and anxieties of adolescents. If something, anything, was forbidden, it was almost like a special invitation to curious teens.
Clearing his head of all thought, Harry closed his eyes and let the rushing wind fill his ears. This trance-like state of relaxation was suddenly disrupted by a feathery touch on his shoulder. Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring face-to-beak with his snowy-white owl, Hedwig. She had obviously decided to join him on his evasive cruise.
Boy and owl raced, their spirits free and soaring. Flying higher and higher, Harry and Hedwig broke through a layer of fluffy, white clouds. Hedwig flew higher and faster. Unable to keep up with the horrendous pace his pet had set, Harry tried to call her back and let her know he had forfeited. His calling was interrupted by a loud rumbling behind him. Harry glanced over his shoulder and gasped.
Never before had he ever been so close to a Muggle jumbo-jet. And unfortunately for Hedwig, she got a special, one-time-only tour through the largest of the airplane's turbines.
"Noooo!" cried Harry, watching in horror as his wing-ed friend was reduced to bits of feathers and bones. In a flash, Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve. "Zip-Locus!" he yelled, preserving the meager remains of his beloved owl in an air-tight, re-closable plastic bag.
As the Muggle jet flew on, the clear bad evilly decided to obey gravity and plunged toward the ground at a atrocious speed. The juvenile seeker lurched after it. Retrieving the bag, Harry flew back to the boys' dorm.
He clutched the bag tightly to his chest. A lengthy funeral was the least – not to mention the last – thing he could do for his faithful owl, Hedwig. And the feathery messenger surely deserved on the best of epitaphs. To my beloved friend of six years, no, To the very cherished Hedwig, beloved and missed..
Harry valiantly wiped a single tear from his eye. He sniffled. Then Harry realized the bag containing a few fractions of his owl had a leak. Once again, he plucked his wand from his sleeve.
"Arctico!" declared Harry, freezing the bag. That, Harry thought, should preserve her until after finals. Bravely, the Gryffindor stored away his frozen pal in his trunk. Then he went down to the common room to sulk in front of the fire.
Ron entered the Gryffindor common room. The redhead was chewing on his fingernails and washing them down with a cup of Muggle coffee. It did not seem to be his first.
"Harry!" yelled Ron despairingly, "Harry, have you seen Hermione lately? I've been looking for her all over!"
"No," said Harry glumly, "But I've had the most awful day.."
Ron ignored him. "I haven't seen her since she left for her private animagus lessons. It's really not like her to be so late!" worried Ron.
"As I was saying," Harry said pointedly. He was very much willing to share his problems with Ron and – "Wait. What did you say?"
"It's not like her to be so late!" repeated Ron in a panicked voice.
"No," said Harry, "since when has Mione been having animagus lessons?"
"For about three months now," said Ron, "but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that she's not here."
"Isn't she a little young to be an animagus?" asked Harry, unaware of his lack of compassion.
"Well yes," Ron said, irritated. "She was going to be one of the youngest animagi in the country. But where is she now?" He looked sick with worry. "Are you absolutely sure you haven't seen her?" Ron implored his friend. "Her animagus shape is a white owl – "
"WHAT?!" shouted Harry, who was very unsettled by this discovery. What if Hedwig had not really been Hedwig but .. Harry did not let himself finish his thought. It was just too gruesome. "Come with me!" he commanded, grabbing Ron by his sleeve and dragging him to the Owl Tower.
"What are you doing?" snorted Ron, out of breath and temper.
Harry stared in shock at his snowy owl Hedwig, who was busy fluffing up her feathers. This meant that..
"Hermione is dead," Harry whispered inaudibly.
* * *
Harry woke up bathed in cold sweat. Ron was sleeping peacefully in the four-poster at the other end of the room and snoring loudly to prove it. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry got out of bed. He began to pace the room. What did this mean? Why was he dreaming about his friends' deaths? It was a clear premonition and it was never a good sign when people started dying in Harry's dreams.
* * *
"Must I remind you," Hermione reminded Phebe, "that he has not had the best of childhoods? It is natural that he was a few, well, mental glitches. How do you expect someone who has lived in a closet for the first ten years of his life to be totally normal?"
"I know," said Phebe, who knew everything about the cupboard, the cousin and the godfather, who was a pardoned Azkaban prisoner and Harry's legal guardian. "I don't expect him to be normal."
"He was no regular, standard-issue child, You-Know-Who made sure of that. And he is no ordinary adolescent. Harry's famous, for godsakes! He has been since his parents were killed and he didn't even know it! You don't seem to understand that. Honestly, sometimes I think you are – " just totally wrong for him, Hermione finished in her head. "– forgetting these things," she said out loud.
Phebe's left eyebrow shot skyward. She knew Hermione's tolerance for her was limited, but she had no idea how very constrained it really was.
"Well than," said Hermione, gathering her books in preparation to leave the library. "I guess I'll see you later." With that, she off towards the Gryffindor dorms.
"That," declared Vanessa, who had been sitting mutely and listening to Hermione's and Phebe's conversation, "was very revealing."
"Make that re-veiling," corrected Phebe. "She is definitely hiding something."
* * *
"What would you consider revolutionary and innovative?" Vanessa asked Phebe thoughtfully. The girls were eating artificial cookies they had just learned a spell for in Home Economagics. The cookies were not very good.
"I would think it revolutionary if Terry said something intelligent for a change," Phebe said. "Remind me to never even attempt to make cookies again in my life," she added, putting the cookie down and grimacing.
"Hmmph," agreed Vanessa, swallowing the last mouthful of a hateful cookie.
"Well, what do you consider innovative?" inquired Phebe.
"The words International Wizarding Network come to mind," hinted Vanessa.
"Oh? Has the Diggory Memorial Fund gotten anywhere with that?"
"Sure! The DMF is on the verge of installing the first connection right in the library." Vanessa smiled proudly.
* * *
Phebe succeed in avoiding all things Gryffindor for two consecutive days by skipping meals periodically and avoiding popular meeting places until Monday morning. Phebe had not been steering clear of Ron, Hermione and Harry for any particular reason – it just had been sort of a experiment to see if she could. On Monday, the Ravenclaws had Arithmancy with the Gryffindors.
Remus Lupin, their were-wolfish Arithmancy teacher, droned on and on about Merlin, the world, and why the sky was blue. Phebe found her thoughts wandering. She drifted into a daydream. In her mind, it was Thursday; she had Advanced DADA with Professor Finstad – and Xelan.
The Phebe felt an ungentle jab on her arm. She had Vanessa and Wera sitting on either side of her and not only were her two friends staring at her, the whole class followed suit.
"Ms. Hawkins?" Lupin's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Are you mentally present at the moment?" Phebe blushed. It was not exactly the perfect start into her day.
After class, she rushed out the door but she was not fast enough as Harry caught up with her and out his arm around her waist.
"Morning, Pheebs," he said with a faint smile.
"Morning," mumbled Phebe.
Harry cut to the chase. "Where've you been? Have you been avoiding me?" he asked.
"Well, no," Phebe lied. "I've just been pretty busy recently."
"Listen," he said quickly, "I feel really bad that I've been neglecting you lately."
"You've probably had loads of work to do, too," Phebe excused him.
"No," objected Harry, "That's not it. I could have made time for you. I could have tried."
Phebe shrugged. "It's ok. It's not your fault."
"Do you feel like going to the library now?" asked Harry.
"Not really," Phebe admitted, "The lounge would probably be more interesting."
"I have a better idea," grinned Harry.
* * *
The Owl Tower was a little drafty. Come to think of it, all of Hogwarts was drafty. It was, after all, mid-November.
"Surprise!" said Harry.
"What?" Phebe looked around. They were surrounded by stone walls, feathers, and owls of all shapes and sizes. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"I went to check on Hedwig this morning and I noticed Toffy had some mail for you. I would have brought it to you," said Harry apologetically, "but Toffy tried to bite me."
"My owl has always been .. slightly .. overprotective," Phebe explained. "However, he is also easily bribed." She took a bar of chocolate from her pocket and unwrapped it. Phebe handed the chocolate to Harry. "Go ahead."
Harry fed Toffy the chocolate and then untied the parchment from his leg. "It's from Sabrina," he announced.
"Yes!" Phebe clapped her hands excitedly. "It's been a while since I got mail from her!"
"I had the feeling it would cheer you up," said Harry, handing her the parchment. "You've seemed a little depressed lately."
The two made their way to the lounge, Harry guiding Phebe, who had her nose buried in the parchment from Sabrina.