The Wait Is Over

Time and again, patience is tested

Sly is the rat that slithers through the sewers

But the wait is worth it

Worth all ten years of it

If but just to see

The traitor behind bars

And the darkness vanquished

Once and for all

Skye caught an upward draft and soared ghostly above the treetops. Two months before Harry's 11th birthday. Four months before the Hogwarts Express would leave. Her destination was Number 4, Privet Drive. But this time, it was not a social visit. She was on a mission. The letter in her beak bore the crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her mind flew back to that day, less than a fortnight ago.

Skye slipped through the magical barrier separating the school from the Muggle world. She was finally here. Watching Harry being tortured by those Muggle filth was more than she could bear, and she was relieved to get away from them. Into the Owlery she flew, and rested there to wait for her chance.

A few days later, "Would you be so kind as to address these letters, Minerva?" Dumbledore's kind voice filled the room with warmth. Skye wanted to cry, to scream, to alert him about her. But she did not. Whatever she did, nothing would change the fact that she was an owl. Through and through. Even Remus did not believe her, how could Dumbledore?

"Abbot, Hannah." The list started. And continued on. "Granger, Hermione."

And finally, "Harry Potter." Skye peered down with bated breath as Minerva slowly inscribed 'Number 4, Privet Drive, the cupboard under the stairs' on the letter. A glance up, and Skye swiftly landed on her shoulder before any other owl could do so.

"Eager, aren't you?" Minerva commented lightly as she attached the letter to her leg, totally unaware that she was not an owl. As if you'd know.

Diving down, Skye dropped the letter through the letterbox of the Dursleys.

It was the most magnificent parade of owls Britain, or indeed the whole world, has ever seen. Unless you count the swarm of owls right after Voldemort's downfall, of course, but they were sent by many different people. Just watching them would make anyone's heart burst with pride, or so Skye thought as she led the pack of owls to Number 4, Privet Drive. And why was she given the privilege of being the leader? Because she knew the way.

They settled upon the roofs and trees like a multi-coloured blanket. Barn owls, eagle owls, snowy owls like herself … each with a letter in its beak. For the enrolment of one Harry Potter, Hogwarts sent out all the school owls. It was truly an amazing sight.

Voices floated out of the living room window. "Today is Sunday. Anyone can guess why I like Sundays, Dudley?"

Instead of Dudley, Harry's voice sounded. Skye's heart skipped a beat. That poor boy's still alive, after all the Dursleys did to him, I'm shocked that they didn't kill him. "Because there are no letters on Sundays, Uncle Vernon."

Taking a risk, Skye fluttered onto the grass, peeking through the curtains as she did so. Harry's head was turned towards the window at that moment. Catching sight of her, he slipped towards the window and lifted one edge of the curtains. In the background, Vernon Dursley droned on about "No ruddy owls today!" Through the glass pane, Skye heard the comment and saw Harry suppress a grin.

As Harry turned away, Skye soared up to the roof. Time to make that Dursley eat his words. Perhaps literally. She deposited her letter with a swoosh down the chimney.

The shrieks of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley lightened her heart considerably.

Hagrid pounded on the door of the shack, which all but looked habitable for humans. At the same moment, Skye took flight from the safety of the trees beyond the sea. Her plan had been formed a day ago, when the Dursleys rudely dragged Harry out of their house to avoid the pack of owls and their letters in their useless bid to "stamp the magic out" of Harry, as Petunia put it.

Nicking stacks of parchment, a quill and a few bottles of ink from an unsuspecting wizarding household, she spent long and laborious hours trying to write a letter. Owls should have scribes as well, she thought moodily as yet another stack of parchment was covered with useless scribbles vaguely resembling human handwriting.

To her surprise, however, Skye managed to get a badly done version of what could probably be called a scrawl within just one day of hard work. Satisfied that her letter would at least look legible, she mentally heaved a sigh of relief, before beginning her letter.

Dear Mr Edwards

A friend of mine requested that I send this owl to you in order that he receives it anonymously. A representative will come to get her. Please sell this owl to a giant named Hagrid, who would visit your shop by the 1st of August. Thank you and the money from the sale would be yours to keep.

Now that the letter was done, it was rolled up into an official-looking bundle, ready for the post.

Mr Edwards glanced up at her once after reading the letter. "Well, I'll do my best." Those few words sent a glimmer of hope into her heart. Opening the door of a spacious cage, he shooed her inside, Skye fluffing up her feathers in indignation.

"'Allo ter yeh!" Hagrid's booming voice was like a bucket of cold water on the head, jerking Skye awake immediately.

The wait was over.