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It was close to the end of summer and a lot had happened to Heather in that time. Well, really, it was a lot of mail, for her birthday nonetheless. Wolves didn't celebrate birthdays and if Heather were to be completely honest, she had never known when her birthday was until she got to Hogwarts. When Hagrid had given her that birthday cake she had just kind of rolled with it.

She remembered when they all arrived. She'd been sitting up in her room at sunset, unwinding after a long hunt. Reika was coiled on her bed, chatting with Heather who was trying to massage the soreness out of her feet. Her window was open, letting in the warm breeze of summer and rustling her hair. She'd done as Slytherin had told her and tried to live in the air but the instructions had been vague and didn't leave Heather with much to work with.

"I just don't understand how you could like shrews more than rats." Reika hissed.

"You can find rats just about anywhere. Shrews are trickier and their meat is more tender. Rats taste stringy and since they eat everything you never know what bizarre aftertaste you'll end up with." Heather said, digging her fingers into the arch of her foot.

"So, really you only like it for it's rarity. Wait, shrews aren't rare!" Reika slithered towards Heather's pillows.

"No, but I rarely get to eat them." Heather said, feeling her cheeks begin to turn red.

"Wait... I don't think I've ever seen you catch a shrew." Reika said. Heather's cheeks felt hotter. The snake's eyes glittered in amusement. "You can't catch shrews can you?"

"They're so damn tiny!" Heather snapped defensively. "They're quick and tiny and damn near impossible to catch."

"That's because you're gigantic." Reika said.

Heather laughed, she had never been called big before. At only five feet tall, and not likely to get any taller, Heather would always be considered tiny. Being small had its merits, like getting into small spaces and being able to take the enemy by surprise but Heather did not appreciate having to physically climb a shelf in order to get something. She was rubbing the back of her calves when she saw something out her window.

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Heather's direction. She stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second she crouched, her hand tensed to catch a late night snack, wondering if the thing flying towards her would get close enough for her to kill it. But then the bizarre creature soared closer, and Heather, realizing what it was, leapt aside.

Through the window soared four owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Heather's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. The fourth owl was massive and landed gracefully while looking at the grey owl with a look of haughty disdain. There was a large package tied to the exhausted owl's legs.

Heather recognized the unconscious owl at once - his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. She recalled him from when Ron got a howler from his mother. Heather dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Cheza's rarely used cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

Heather turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was her own Cheza. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Heather an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

Heather didn't recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but she knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Heather relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night. The fourth owl was massive and slightly intimidating for a bird. It had a single letter on it with a crest that seemed vaguely familiar to Heather

Heather sat down on her bed and grabbed Errol's package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and her first ever birthday card. With a single claw lengthened to a sharp point she opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out - a letter and a newspaper clipping.

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Heather picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.

Heather scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Heather couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice from the few interactions Heather had had from the whole clan. Though she and Ron weren't on speaking terms anymore, she was fond of the twins and Ginny was sweet. She picked up the letter which was from the twins and unfolded it.

Dear Heather,

Happy birthday!

Hope you're doing well and that you're hunting well. Ginny's been wondering about the pups that were announced last year. She wants to see pictures.

It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff.

We couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy a new wand next year for our idiot brother.

Heather remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car he had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds. She had suggested they wait for a teacher but Heather supposed he'd hit his head when they ran into the barrier.

We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?

Don't let any poachers get you down!

Try and come to London,

Forge and Gred

P. S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.

Heather glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

Heather now turned to her present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Fred and George beneath it.

Heather - this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize we had put beetles in his soup.

Bye - Forge and Gred

Heather put the Pocket Sneakoscope on her bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of her clock. She looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Cheza had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.

Dear Heather,

I do hope you and the others of you're pack all right. I've been keeping up with the weather. No droughts and a decent amount of rain so I assume the prey is abundant.

I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you - what if they'd opened it at customs? - but then Cheza turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world), Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous - the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.

There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long - it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.

Fred and George says they're going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will you be able to come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!

Love from

Hermione

P. S. Fred and George say Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Fred and George doesn't seem too happy about it.

Heather laughed as she put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, she was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells that she'd have no hope of doing without help - but it wasn't. Her heart gave a huge bound as she shredded the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit.

"Nice, Hermione!" Heather whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.

Apart from her friends, the thing that Heather missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world - highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Heather happened to be a very good Quidditch player; she had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Heather's most favorite parts of Quidditch was stomping Malfoy on the field.

The largest owl let out a screech of impatience. Reika hissed at it, flaring her hood but the owl started down at her with a look of disdain and superiority. That one look jogged Heather's memory. The crest on the letter was the Malfoy family's. The entire family had that look down to an art. Cutting open the seal with a claw Heather began to read a letter not from Draco Malfoy, but his mother Narcissa.

Dear Lady Potter,

A very happy birthday to you. I'm unsure if you celebrate or not but it's only polite to acknowledge these things.

Draco has been relatively quiet this summer. I believe you're little twenty-four hour field trip has given him a new appreciation for the Statue of Secrecy. While he may be a Slytherin, his arrogance can sometimes get the better of him. A trip like that has taught him caution. Not to worry, his father was like that as well and sometimes still is.

Draco has told me that you apparently broke into a bowling alley at one in the morning and bowled until five a.m? Again, I'm not angry. Allow me to share with you a little saying that we Slytherins, especially the more traditional, live by.

Nothing is illegal so long as there are no witnesses.

Feel free to interpret that as you will.

I'm afraid I don't have anything for your birthday as I don't know you very well. Draco suggested sending you money but I'm aware that with your family inheritance you will be well off by the time you're of age. I'll have to take you shopping some time.

One last bit of advice. Showing an interest in our culture and a willingness to abide by our customs will allow you to make many friends amongst the old families.

Regards,

Narcissa Malfoy

Heather smiled as she put the letter aside and the large owl flew out of her window. Narcissa was much more welcoming and humorous than she had suspected. Perhaps acknowledging traditions was much more powerful than she had initially suspected.

Heather put the letter aside and picked up her last parcel. She recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. She sliced through the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before she could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly - as though it had jaws.

Heather froze. She knew that Hagrid would never send her anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin. Of course, Heather

Heather poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Heather reached for Reika and allowed her to slither onto her shoulders. Crouched in an offensive position with teeth and claws bared she seized the rest of the wrapping paper in her hand and pulled.

And out fell - a book. Heather just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

"You've got to be kidding," Reika muttered.

The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Heather followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under her dresser. Praying that the book wasn't venomous, Heather got down on her hands and knees and reached toward it.

"Ouch!"

The book snapped shut on her hand and then flapped past her, still scuttling on its covers. Growling, Heather scrambled around, threw herself forward, and managed to pin it. Reika hissed and boasted their victory

Cheza and Errol watched interestedly as Heather clamped the struggling book tightly in her arms and then pried the covers apart. When it continued to struggle Heather snapped her jaws at it. The book froze.

"Now you listen to me. You will not misbehave, you will not attack anything and you will not go anywhere unless I tell you too, got it!?" Heather opened her jaws and snarled, bearing fangs that dripped with saliva. Reika hissed as well and threatened to inject it with so much venom it would soak the pages and smear the lettering.

The book gave a great shudder and it nodded before shivering violently in fear.

"Good, see that wasn't too hard, was it?" Reika said as Heather started petting it. With the book acceptably trained, Heather went and picked up Hagrid's letter.

Dear Heather,

Happy Birthday!

Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you.

Hope the prey is running well.

All the best,

Hagrid

It struck Heather as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but she put Hagrid's card up next to the twin's, Narcissa's and Hermione's, smiling fondly. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left.

Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Heather slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

Dear Ms. Potter,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Heather pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning but instead curious. It would be interesting to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; she knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and she had never set foot there even though it wasn't that far for her to run. But would it be worth the visit? Perhaps she'd check it out one weekend during dinner or after curfew. She didn't fear detention. She had a small level of respect for all of the teachers except two; Dumbledore and Snape. Dumbledore, who she absolutely despised and had no respect for and then Snape, who she deeply respected and had the best connection with.

It was surprising to think about but Snape did understand her the best. Ignoring the fact that she'd hid in his office for a time during second year she could also tell that he was similar to her. He was a killer. All seasoned killers could recognize each other. She wasn't sure who Snape had killed but she could tell that he had killed many. He regretted much of them but there were some he didn't. Heather knew that Snape would gladly kill a few of his previous kills again with a smile on his face. Like Heather, he was willing to do what it took to survive and win. He also didn't mind getting his hands dirty, much like Heather did. The Girl-Who-Lived once heard a saying that she greatly believed it and loved.

If you want something done right you have to do it yourself.

Heather looked over at the moon. Based on its position, it was now around two o'clock in the morning. Heather was surprised. Perhaps reading letters had taken longer than she'd thought.

Deciding that she'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when she woke up, Heather got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart she'd made for himself, counting down the days left until her return to Hogwarts and her friends. Then she sent the book to her bookshelf and snuggled up with Reika.