DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.
SPOILERS/BACKGROUND: Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
DragonKatGal gets a sticker for using the word "fecking" in a review!
Jedi Buttercup: good points; hope I get to a few of them in this chappie.
Thanks again to everyone else who reviewed, too! I love reading them. Not too many Willow-centric fics get this many. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy—or it would if I had it in me to feel warm and fuzzy. J Hope you enjoy this installment!
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CHAPTER 11:
THE OWLERY
Despite what she had said to Buffy, Willow really didn't have much of a plan. She figured she'd just get up early and catch Harry before breakfast. The more she thought about that, however, the less appealing it seemed. She didn't want to loiter in the Entrance Hall all morning, with so many people around. Nonetheless, she didn't have any idea where to find Harry before then, and the school was enormous, so she didn't have any idea where to begin.
After leaving the table, Willow made her way to the library. It was the only place she could think of to go, since she didn't feel like heading back to Slytherin Tower. In addition, she already had a list of a few more books that she wanted from it.
As it happened, she lucked out, or at least partially so. Hermione was in the library as well. From the impression she'd gotten so far, that wasn't entirely lucky, as Hermione apparently spent as much time in there as the librarian, but it came to her that Hermione would probably have some idea where Harry was. The Gryffindor girl was alone, taking notes off of an enormous scroll that looked like a star chart.
"Hey," Willow said, drawing alongside.
Hermione looked over at her, and gave a hesitant smile, and once again, Willow as left wondering what the other girl was thinking. "Back for more already?" Hermione asked.
"What? Oh, sort of … I got a chapter into the Divination textbook I borrowed yesterday, and flipped through the rest, and it was all really dense and confusing and didn't make a whole lot of sense—plus it wasn't really that well-written. So I figured I'd try to find a better one."
For some reason, she seemed to have struck a chord that Hermione could relate to, as she wrinkled her nose and shook her head emphatically in disgust. "Good luck," she spat. "They're pretty much all that way."
"Did you take it?"
"Three years of it," Hermione admitted. "A complete waste. Most of the time, the teacher just sat around trying to sound prophetic and predicting about a thousand different unpleasant ways for Harry to die. There's a new teacher now, though, a centaur mystic. Maybe he'll be a little better."
"It certainly sounds interesting, anyway," Willow admitted. She'd never seen a centaur.
"Maybe, but the subject's still hogwash."
"Apparently, since Harry looked alive and kicking."
Hermione laughed. "Yeah, he's survived five encounters with Voldemort so far, so people who predict his early death seem to be betting against the odds."
Willow's eyes widened. "Five? So, he's met him more than just as a baby?"
"Oh yes. Once during our first year, when … well, I'm going to go on forever if I get started, you should get him to tell you himself. He tells it better than me, anyway."
"Oh, is he coming?"
"What? Oh, no, he and Ron are out at the Quidditch pitch. He doesn't get much chance to practice during the summer, so he grabs every chance he gets."
"Oh. All right. Well, thanks … I'm going to go try and find a better book. Wish me luck."
"You're going to need more than luck, you're going to need a bloody miracle, but good luck."
Willow grinned. "Thanks." She headed back into the Divination section of the library, but she had no intention of staying long. She quickly found a different treatise on the subject than the one she had been using—this one a lot shorter—and proceeded to the checkout. She had no intention of going back to her room, though, although it was tempting. Instead, she asked a passing Ravenclaw which direction the Quidditch pitch was, and headed off in that direction.
It turned out to be somewhat difficult to miss, once she realized what it was. It was a wooden stadium built just outside the castle, nearly half a mile in circumference, with a set of three rings high in the air above each end of the field. The top of each of the dozen wide wooden pillars holding up the stadium opened out into stands, each with room for thirty people or so, and a wide wooden balcony ran around the stadium, just below the top of the wall, for more spectators. Willow climbed up into one of the stands, managing to keep her fear of heights under control.
Two familiar figures were zooming around on broomsticks near one of the rings. Harry was holding a red ball about the size of a soccer ball, and was attempting it to toss it past Ron and through one of the hoops; he was succeeding on about two of every three passes.
Willow just sat and watched for a while. She could see that Harry really enjoyed flying; the expression on his face was much like the one on Buffy's early that morning, though he was much more intense. Ron was good, too, but didn't make it look as effortless as Harry did.
Several minutes passed before the two boys decided to take a break. They floated towards one of the other stands, two down from Willow. Harry had just raised his head to take a drink from a water bottle when he spotted Willow. Willow swallowed and waved shyly.
Harry turned and said something to Ron that Willow was much too far away to hear, then mounted his Firebolt and glided over to where Willow sat. Ron stayed behind, and flew back toward the castle a moment later.
"Hope you're not coming to spy on us for Slytherin," Harry chided with a smile.
"What? Oh, no, no, I'm not, I swear."
Harry laughed. "It's fine—it's not like I'm a chaser, anyway, so you really couldn't say much even if you were going to."
"Still, I wasn't."
"It's all right, I believe you. So why did you come down here?"
"Well, I was just going to ask you … for your address. You know, if you'd like to send mail during the rest of the summer? If you'd like?"
Harry grinned at the nervousness in her voice. "I'd love to," he said, reassuringly.
Willow's eyes brightened. "You would?"
"Sure. You're going to be staying here at Hogwarts the whole time, right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And I'm going to guess you've never sent mail by owl before?"
"Nope," Willow admitted. "But I think I'll figure it out. Why? Is it hard?"
Harry gave her a secretive smile, and scooted forward on his broom to make room, motioning her to sit down behind him. "Why don't I go show you?" he asked.
"Where are we going?"
"The Owlery."
"Um … do we have to fly?"
"It's a long way walking. Lots of annoying stairs."
"Well … still …"
"Come on, I'll go slower. It's not like we're trying to catch a moving train."
Willow took a deep breath, then another. Eventually, she slowly eased herself down behind him on the Firebolt. This time, he took a little more time to get her seated properly, and to get her hands firmly clenched around his waist.
"Here we go," he said, and they were off. Willow scrunched in even more tightly behind him.
He set a much more leisurely pace than he had the previous day, and after a minute, Willow started breathing earlier. Harry held the broom steady; in fact, the ride was smoother than any car Willow had ever ridden in. They were higher, up however, and Willow schooled herself into not looking downward.
"Sorry to interrupt your practice," Willow added, just for something to say as they flew.
"It's fine, we were going to be done in another half hour anyway. Ron's a prefect, so he can go out again after dark if he wants to, and I was playing a different position than I usually play … do you know much about Quidditch?"
Willow shook her head as best she could, resting sideways in the small of Harry's back as it was. "I'm new to all this, I didn't grow up in this world."
"I didn't either," Harry said. "But I've been here for six years, now, so I've had time to get used to it. Quidditch is pretty much the only sport in the wizarding world. There's seven players to a team—three chasers, one keeper, two beaters, and one seeker. The chasers do just what I was doing there, trying to put the quaffle—that red ball—through the hoops, past the other team's keeper. Ron's ours. The beaters have bats, and they try to knock a different kind of ball, called a bludger—think of a shot put with a really nasty temper—into players on the other team, and stop the other team's beaters from knocking bludgers into their own players. The seeker has to hunt down a tiny gold ball that moves incredibly fast, called the golden snitch—whichever seeker gets it wins a hundred and fifty points and ends the game. That's what I usually do."
"Sounds like fun—though I think I'd understand better if I saw a game."
Harry nodded. "Usually helps. I'm sure you could go watch the Slytherin team practice once school starts."
"Maybe."
"Maybe," Harry agreed. "Or you could just wait for the games, like most people. It certainly sounds like you'll have enough to keep you busy. We're here."
Willow looked up, and saw them approaching the roof of a low tower jutting off from the keep. Well, low was a relative term, Willow thought as she finally cast one glance downward. They were still at least twelve stories up. Harry held the broom still while she dismounted.
They went down a short staircase into the top floor of the tower, which Willow saw was all one giant, high-vaulted room, like an enormous attic. There had to be at least two hundred owls here, some just flying around loose, others—more expensive-looking ones—in large cages. There was a small, enclosed booth in one corner, which Harry led Willow towards. A small counter ran around three inside walls of the booth, and there were several inkwells, stacks of parchment, envelopes, and small bags of birdseed there as well.
Harry tossed a few knuts in a small ceramic pot next to the entrance as they came in, then walked over to one of the counters.
"What are you doing?" Willow asked curiously.
"I'm writing a letter. Then I'll send it, so you can see how it's done."
"Oh, OK," she said uneasily. She wasn't sure how long he intended to make this letter.
"Don't worry, it'll be quick," he said. True to his word, he was finished a moment later. He packaged the letter in an envelope and led Willow out of the booth.
"Don't you need to address it first?" Willow asked, seeing that Harry had left the envelope blank.
"They do that out here," he said, with the same secretive smile he had worn out on the Quidditch pitch. "Just watch, you'll get the idea."
He walked up to one of the owls that was flying around loose—a scrawny little brown bird that didn't look like it would last long in a hard wind. He handed the letter to the owl, which seemed to know instinctively what to do with it, accepting it softly in its beak. Willow moved to get a closer look, but Harry turned and motioned for her to stay where she was. Then he turned and walked to the window.
"Uh, Harry, I sort of can't see from here," she said, still not moving from her spot.
His grin only brightened. "Sure you can," he said. "Watch." He turned and spoke directly to the owl. "I want you to take this to my friend Willow Rosenberg," he said.
The owl immediately fluttered its wings, flew about a yard out the window, then turned around and came back flying straight for Willow. It landed at Willow's feet and dropped the envelope in front of her.
Willow picked it up, and her eyes were wide. The envelope was no longer blank. It now read:
Willow Rosenberg
Hogwarts Owlery
"Wait a minute … you didn't just write that on there, did you?"
Harry's grin became absolutely triumphant. "Nope," he said with a revealing laugh. "The envelopes address themselves, and the owls always seem to find their way unless someone or something stops them, or someone is deliberately trying to hide. When I was getting my invitations to come to Hogwarts six years ago, they not only knew where I lived, they knew what room of the house I was in, even though it changed every day. They even found me when my uncle tried to hide me out on a small island off the coast."
"So wait … I never needed to ask you for your address at all."
Harry shook his head, still smiling. "But I'm glad you did," he added.
"So then why did you tell Buffy …?"
"I didn't want her to be the one to have to tell you. Besides, it really means something to me that you asked."
Willow was flabbergasted. "Well … thanks. Or you're welcome. Not sure what I'm supposed to say to that, actually."
Harry laughed. "Either works. Come on, let's get out of the owlery, the owls don't like it if you hang around forever. It's like loitering in someone else's office for no reason."
"Oh," Willow said as she started for the door, apologizing to the nearest owls she passed on the way. Harry laughed softly behind her. They reached the door, which led into another set of stairs down to the lower floors.
"So … since I have no idea how we got here … where are we?" she asked.
"These stairs go all the way down to the Entrance Hall level," Harry explained, "though the doorway three flights down leads across an enclosed bridge and back to one of the sixth floor landings, if you want to go back to the dorms."
"Big place," Willow commented.
"You're not kidding," Harry said, as they started to descend the stairs. "I've been here six years and I probably haven't seen half of it, and I've seen more than most. And that's only counting the 'normal' space, too; there are secret passages and chambers everywhere, some that don't even exist fully in this world."
"Is there anyone that knows it all?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Dumbledore probably does," he said. "He seems to know everything, though there was a part of it that even he didn't know about that we found my second year. Filch knows most of it, at least the non-magical parts, and Lupin knew a lot of it at one time, though he had a magic map to help him. Ron's older brothers knew a lot, too." His eyes went distant for a moment, then he added, "and Voldemort." He rubbed his forehead gingerly, and Willow shuddered. "And Sirius used to." For some reason, his voice seemed laced with melancholy as he said the last name, but Willow didn't recognize it.
"Who?"
"My godfather," Harry said softly. "Killed by a Death Eater a couple of months ago."
Memories of Tara's murder suddenly flashed back into Willow's mind, the first time in a while she had thought of it, and of the darkness and pain that had taken her that moment. For some reason, Harry flinched next to her, as though someone had pricked his forehead.
"What's wrong?" she asked, turning to look at him, a concerned look on her face and the memory of Tara fleeing to the back of her mind.
"Nothing," he said, and indeed his headache, or whatever it was, seemed to have passed. Willow just chalked it up to a painful memory.
"I lost someone very close to me recently, too," she told him, refusing to let the tear forming in the corner of her eye fall. "My best friend in the whole world. I know it hurts. I was … not myself for a while afterward. It still hurts to think about her." She wasn't lying; just thinking about her like this made the edges of her vision blur and darken for a moment. She realized the dark forces within herself that she had surrendered to once were still there and still strong, still enticing her with the promise of power and forgetfulness. Harry flinched again, as though the scar on his forehead burned him while Willow was speaking. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again. "You look like you've got a headache. I'm sorry for bringing up memories like that—I seem to be really bad about that."
"No, it's fine," he said, though Willow could tell something was troubling him. He didn't seem to want to talk about it, however, and his head didn't seem to bother him for the rest of the time that they walked.
They walked in silence for another minute before they reached the great stairwell. "Well, Slytherin Tower is that way," Harry said, pointing off to the right.
"Thanks," Willow said, hesitating. Then, a moment later. "So I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow?"
Harry nodded. "My boat leaves at nine down at the lake, if you want to come say goodbye there. It's hard to talk to anyone from another House at meals."
Willow smiled. "Sounds great," she said.
"All right, see you then!" Harry said, turning away to the left, towards Gryffindor Tower, casting a warm smile over his shoulder at her for the first few steps.
Willow waited until he was out of sight before taking and letting out several long, breathless breaths. The butterflies in her stomach were the size of woodchucks, but she was beaming as she turned back towards Slytherin Tower.
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COMING SOON: Chapter 12, "A Bird's Eye View." So what have Buffy and Draco been doing while our scarhead and redhead have been getting better acquainted?
SNEAK PREVIEW:
"Tempting," Buffy answered. "But I seem to remember someone promising to show me a thing or two about flying two days ago. I was kinda hoping I could convince him to make good on it."