A/N: Alright, guys. Enjoy Chapter 15!
"I bet Malfoy didn't like that, did he?" Ron laughed between mouthfuls of his breakfast, having just listened to Harry recount the details of his trip to the owlery the previous afternoon. "It's been over a week, and people are still talking about his detention with Snape!"
"He did look pretty humiliated," Harry agreed, smiling. "I got out of there as fast as I could after that, though. He looked like he was about ready to strangle me."
Ron laughed again, and Harry continued to smile. But across the table, Hermione was frowning in concern.
"I fail to see what is so funny," she said disapprovingly. "Harry, if you feel at all threatened by Malfoy, then you need to tell Professor McGonagall immedi—"
"I don't feel threatened, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "I can take care of myself, and I could easily take Malfoy in a fight."
"You shouldn't be fighting in the first place!"
"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron jumped in. "I don't think Malfoy's actually going to try anything."
"You don't know that."
"Just let me deal with Malfoy," Harry stated at last. "How much harm could he possibly do, anyway?"
Hermione looked unconvinced, but she thankfully decided to drop the subject.
"I wish we could skip Lockhart's class today," Ron said a few moments later, stabbing his fork at a sausage as he spoke.
"We have a very important test today," Hermione shook her head. "Don't tell me you didn't study, Ronald Weasley!"
"I studied. For a few minutes."
Hermione glared in disapproval.
"Oh come on, Hermione. Those notes are ridiculous. Why is it important to know what color Lockhart's robes were the day he met the Yeti?"
Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps in order to tell Ron exactly why it was important to know the color of Gilderoy Lockhart's robes the day he met the Yeti, when she was interrupted by a flurry of wings and feathers, as an owl landed on the table in front of her.
"Oh, it's a letter from Mum and Dad," Hermione said happily, reaching out to untie the envelope from the bird's outstretched foot.
Harry looked up towards the ceiling then, trying to spot his snowy owl in the sea of brown and gray.
"Are you expecting something, mate?" Ron asked as his friend's eyes continued to comb the ceiling.
"Oh, no. I just told Hedwig to stop by for some owl treats this morning," Harry answered, pulling the bag of treats out of his pocket.
"Well don't be surprised if you get another shipment of Lockhart books," Ron joked. "I don't think you have the Deluxe Editions yet."
"That isn't even funny," Harry replied, although he was unable to keep from smiling just a little bit.
An annoyed look crossed Hermione's face, but it soon disappeared as she went back to her letter.
"Is everything alright with your parents?" Harry asked a couple minutes later, still glancing up at the ceiling.
"Oh, yes," Hermione answered. "Mostly they just want to know what I want for my birthday next week."
"Well, that shouldn't be too difficult to guess," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "What book don't you have in your collection yet?"
Hermione pointedly ignored Ron as she folded up her letter and set it next to her plate.
"So, Harry," she said, as she picked up a slice of toast. "Are you prepared for the Defense test today?"
But Harry was hardly listening. He continued to look up at the ceiling as the last of the morning owls cleared out of the Great Hall, and frowned.
"She didn't come," he said quietly.
"What?" Ron asked, around a large mouthful of food.
"Hedwig," Harry said, looking down at the bag of owl treats in his hand. "She always comes for treats."
"I'm sure everything is fine, Harry," Hermione tried to reassure him. "Are you sure she's not out delivering or retrieving a message, or something?"
Harry just shook his head as he stood up and shoved the treats back into his pocket. "I'm going to the owlery."
"Harry, you can't be late to class again," Hermione said as Harry threw his schoolbag over his shoulder.
But Harry didn't respond. He hurried to the exit and towards the grand staircase as fast as he could go without breaking into a flat-out run.
It'll be fine. Everything will be fine, he chanted over and over to himself as he made his way up through the castle.
Everything will be just fine.
Snape glowered at all of the students filling up the Great Hall for breakfast time. Even at this time of day, there seemed to be no shortage of children running around and shouting and yelling and squealing in those high-pitched voices that never failed to grate on Severus' nerves.
Aren't teenagers supposed to be slow and lethargic in the morning? the man thought irritably, as he took a cool drink of water from his goblet. He could already feel the beginnings of a massive headache coming on, and he still had to get through an entire day of teaching classes full of dunderheaded ne'er-do-wells.
And then the arrival of the mail just made everything so much worse. Because now the little miscreants were jumping up and down and pointing and practically clambering over each other to get to their letters and packages that were no doubt sent to them from overindulgent parents back home.
It was then that the potions master's eyes happened to roam over the Gryffindor table and settle on a certain second year, who was currently gazing up at the ceiling, clearly expecting something.
Severus scowled and looked away. He absolutely hated the odd feeling he got every time he thought about the Potter brat these days.
"You've hardly touched your breakfast, Severus," McGonagall suddenly commented from the seat directly to Snape's right.
Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. Honestly, the woman still treated him like a child sometimes.
"I've eaten enough, Minerva, thank you," he replied absently, looking out at the hall once more, his eyes automatically lingering over the Gryffindor table for several seconds longer than any of the others.
McGonagall followed his gaze and a small smile settled on her face. "Ah, and how are things going with young Harry? I trust that you have reconciled your differences?"
"There's nothing to reconcile," Snape said firmly, getting to his feet, and missing the look of disappointment that crossed Minerva's face at that statement. "I must go prepare for my classes, now."
Snape left the table and headed for one of the side entrances to the hall, pausing to look back at the Gryffindor table one last time.
He couldn't help but frown at what he saw.
Potter was now standing, and quickly shoving something into his pocket as he simultaneously reached for his schoolbag.
Snape couldn't help but grow suspicious then, as he watched the boy rush out of the hall in a hurry, leaving the other two-thirds of the Golden Gryffindor trio behind.
What are you up to this time Potter? he thought silently, rubbing a hand over his eyes wearily as he exited the hall at last.
What mischief could you have possibly gotten yourself into?
The owlery was quiet that morning. More than half of the usual occupants were currently out, delivering and receiving mail, or else stretching their wings in the cool morning air and hunting for a good breakfast.
The rest of the birds that remained behind, it seemed, were sleeping, enjoying a peaceful morning nap. The place was still and silent.
At least until a young Gryffindor boy flew up the stairs and into the room, completely out of breath and exhausted.
"Hedwig?" Harry called out, as soon as he was able to breathe normally again.
Above him, one of the school's barn owls popped a single eye open and gave Harry a reproachful hoot.
"Sorry," Harry said quickly, before moving further into the owlery.
"Hedwig?" he repeated, though a little quieter this time. "Are you in here, girl?"
There was no response. No soft hoot in greeting, or a fluttering of wings to indicate that Hedwig was coming to meet her owner.
She's out hunting, Harry thought to himself. She must just be out hunting.
But he knew that didn't make any sense. Hedwig never missed an opportunity for owl treats. She would have come to the Great Hall if she were able.
And no sooner had that terrifying thought crossed Harry's mind, than, out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw her, sitting on a low perch at the very back of the owlery.
"Hedwig!" Harry called out, hurrying over to his owl. "Hedwig."
But the snowy owl did not respond. Her head was bent low, her eyes drooping shut, and Harry could see that she was shaking where she stood.
"Hedwig?" Harry whispered softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out to touch the bird's feathers. "Please, girl. Look at me."
But Hedwig didn't look up. She just continued to stare blankly down at the floor, as her whole body continued to shiver uncontrollably.
"Hedwig? What's wrong? Come on girl, what's wrong?"
And then a low, nearly inaudible sound came from the snowy owl, and it was unlike any other sound that she had ever made before. It was pitiful and sorrowful, and it scared Harry to death.
"No. Hedwig, you're okay. You're alright. Please be alright," Harry was suddenly speaking very fast, his fingers now hovering just above the owl's head. He was too afraid to touch her anymore, though. What if he ended up making things worse?
"Please..."
Harry stopped talking then as a lump began to form in his throat and the tears started to burn behind his eyes. He had never seen Hedwig like this before. She had been perfectly fine yesterday. What could possibly have happened to make her so sick all of a sudden?
"Don't worry, girl," Harry managed to get out a few seconds later, "I'm going to get you some help. You're going to be just fine."
Harry turned then and ran, his schoolbag lying forgotten on the owlery floor.
Harry flew down several flights of stairs in record time. His first thought, and the only one that was occupying his mind at that moment was that he needed to get a teacher. He needed to find his head of house or Professor Flitwick or somebody. Anybody that wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart or—
Harry slammed into something hard, completely losing his balance in the process.
But before he could fall flat on his face, a hand shot out and steadied him, gripping his arm tightly.
"What have I told you about running in the corridors, Mr. Potter?!" Snape growled, giving Harry a shake. "This is the second time you have run into me now and—"
"Please, sir," Harry interrupted, growing desperate. "I need help. Please."
The man paused then in surprise as he caught a glimpse of Harry's tear-stained face.
"It's my owl, sir," Harry continued frantically without being prompted. "She's sick. I don't know what's wrong with her but she needs help. Please."
Snape was unable to react for a moment. Whatever trouble he had suspected the Gryffindor Golden boy of getting into, this definitely wasn't it.
And then the man was looking into the boy's eyes. They were red and slightly puffy and filled with tears.
And they were Lily's.
Snape suppressed a sigh then as he let go of Harry's arm and took just a moment to straighten his robes.
"Show me," he said at last.
Harry just nodded and turned back in the direction of the owlery.
"Hedwig," Harry said urgently, when he stood in front of his owl once more. "Hedwig? How are you doing, girl?"
The bird's condition didn't appear to have changed at all since Harry had last seen her, and she made no attempt now to respond to Harry's voice.
"Step aside, Potter," Snape said in a brusque tone. "I need to run a diagnostic spell."
Harry obeyed but made sure to stand as close to his owl as possible, watching carefully as the potions professor withdrew his wand and waved it over the creature's head.
A piece of parchment popped into existence then, and Snape snatched it out of the air, watching closely as the diagnosis began to appear across the page in large, loopy handwriting.
"What is it? Is she going to be alright?" Harry asked, trying to see the parchment that the potions master was holding off to the side.
Snape frowned, a grave expression settling across his features.
"What?" Harry asked again, suddenly feeling far more frightened than he had even just a moment ago. "Sir, please—"
"Mr. Potter, your owl has been poisoned."
"P-poisoned?"
"She needs an antidote immediately."
Harry shook his head, looking up at the professor.
"But...how?" he asked in a near whisper, his tone pleading and desperate. "Will she be okay?"
It took a few seconds for Snape to respond then. He looked from Harry to the very sick owl, and then back again before finally giving his answer.
"I will do everything that I can."
A/N: Oh, poor Hedwig. Thanks for reading, everyone! I will post the next chapter as soon as I am able :)
-Ailee17