Chapter Four

Tickled Pink

Three days later, Harry was sprawled on his bed, frowning over his Potions essay.

"... Cite three different potions in which wolfsbane is used and describe the positive and negative effects that it has on the potion, from where it originates and how much of it is considered excessive."

Harry groaned. "Surely that has to be the single-most boring and mundane essay topic Snape's given us yet, the old bat." His brow creased as he remembered a particularly nasty one from third year. "Ugh. Maybe not."

Harry yawned and stretched. He looked at Hedwig's empty cage.

"Gone still! Wretched, lucky bird," Harry muttered. "If only to spread my wings and fly all over the night sky..."

Glancing out at the window, Harry noticed that the clouds had darkened and the sky seemed foreboding. He shivered and started to draw the curtains before noticing a speck in the sky, gradually coming closer towards him.

Harry frowned, and squinted, trying to make out the shape. Snowy white and moving quickly... Hedwig! Back! He opened the window quickly and quietly, trying to contain his excitement. Hedwig back so soon could only mean one thing; mail!

Hedwig swooped into the room and landed on Harry's bed, chattering away quietly. Harry shut the window, turned and grinned at Hedwig.

"You got something there for me, old girl?" Harry asked her.

Hedwig ruffled her feathers, shaking off some beads of water she had acquired during the journey and extended one leg. Harry knelt beside her and gently untied the roll of parchment. Hedwig gratefully stretched her leg before hopping into her cage and settling in for the night.

Harry unrolled the parchment and smiled. Ginny. He lay back on his bed, squashing his Potions notes and not really caring. He absently wound some hair around his finger as he read, smiling occasionally. Hedwig observed all this from her cage and decided not to bother.

"Harry. You're right, we probably haven't spoken so much in our entire lives before but hey, it gives me something to do and surely it gives you a good excuse to get away from icky essays. I've got a pretty bad one from McGonagall at the moment that I just can't seem to start. I s'pose I'd better start soon or I'll run out of holidays in which to do it. I got a letter from Hermione yesterday saying that she'd finished her all homework and was going over it with a thesaurus, trying to figure out which words she could substitute for more intelligent sounding ones. I replied and suggested that she get a hobby. Bet she won't take too kindly to that one..."

Harry reached out and tickled Hedwig under her chin, his cheeks unusually flushed.

Hedwig opened her beak and tried to nip at him in annoyance.

"Sorry!" Harry laughed.

Hedwig closed her eyes, ignoring Harry.

Harry contemplated the letter in front of him. He reached for his quill.

Nine days later at the Burrow

"But, Mum!" Ron protested loudly. "He hasn't replied! I vote we go get him."

Molly hung up her coat on the peg in the hall with a sigh. She turned to look at an irate Ron.

"Ronald. How many times must I repeat myself? You're making a mountain out of a molehill." Molly took off her boots and walked briskly toward the kitchen. "Really, from the way you were acting, you'd think that Harry had committed a cardinal sin."

"He hasn't replied to my letter!" Ron replied in an injured tone.

Molly rolled her eyes and went to check the oven. "Hmm..." She opened the door and gingerly tested the top of the cake with a skewer. "Another ten minutes, I think."

Ron had followed Molly into the kitchen, glowering. "I'm beginning to think that he needs to be rescued so he can have some fun during the holidays."

Molly opened the fridge. "Why? Just because he hasn't replied to your letter? Where has George put the milk?"

Ron cast his eyes around the kitchen before replying. "It's on the sink. And yes, because he hasn't replied. He might be stuck doing chores at the Dursleys' house or something! Or... or... maybe he's being forced to hang out with his cousin, and hasn't had a moment to himself to reply! Or..."

"Why is it on the sink? Oh, George!" Molly took a great whiff of the milk and wrinkled her nose. "I'll have to throw that one out. That's disgusting. GEORGE WEASLEY! GET IN HERE NOW!"

"Don't you think?" Ron asked persistently.

"What?" Molly looked at Ron tiredly. "Ron, I'm sorry, I just don't think that there's any great rush to go and rescue Harry just because he hasn't replied to your letter. He doesn't seem to be in any great danger."

George entered the kitchen. "Umm... yes, Mum?" he asked politely.

Molly jabbed a finger toward the milk bottle. "What is the meaning of this, George? Why did you leave it on the sink so that it could go off?"

"Um..." George looked behind him for support from Fred but found none. "Uh... well, Fred and I read about this charm which stops milk going off, so I thought I'd, uh, cast it on the milk and see if it worked."

Molly frowned. "You were trying to be helpful?"

George nodded emphatically.

"I don't believe it," Molly said bluntly. "But I have no evidence otherwise so I'll let you off for now."

"Thanks Mum!" George skipped out of the kitchen.

Molly picked up the milk bottle and threw it in the garbage can. "Ugh."

"Mum..." Ron said.

"Yes, dear?" Molly was busy adding "milk" to her shopping list on the refrigerator. "I wonder what else we've run out of..."

"How do you know that Harry's safe?" Ron asked petulantly, toeing his shoe across the linoleum.

"Don't do that to the floor, dear," Molly said absently, chewing on her quill as she thought of missing items from her pantry.

"Well? How do you know Harry's okay?" Ron repeated.

"Oh!" Molly turned to Ron, surprised. "Well – because he's been writing to Ginny, of course. I'm sure she would have said something if he wasn't alright."

Ron frowned. "That letter a couple of weeks ago?"

"No," Molly said, her attention drawn to the twins discussing Quidditch techniques in the backyard through the window. "The letters she's been receiving every couple of days or so. I think she got one this morning, actually."

Ron's mouth fell open. "But..."

"Don't ask me!" Molly said, frowning as she watched Fred demonstrate a highly illegal move to George. "What on earth are they doing?" Molly opened the window. "FRED! That's not allowed!"

Ron leaned back against the doorframe, thinking quickly. So Harry and Ginny had been writing letters back and forth for the past couple of weeks, while he, Harry's best friend, got nothing. It was time to pay his sister a little visit.