It was a white owl. A beautiful snowy owl that bore an uncanny resemblance to Harry's own owl, Hedwig, and seemed as perfectly at home perched on Harry's arm as Hedwig did. It had come straight to him from the highest branch of a tall tree, floating towards him effortlessly like an owl being summoned by its owner.

And now it was staring at him, intently, as if it were trying to extract his very thoughts. Harry felt somewhat uncomfortable with it, but didn't want to chase it away either.

"You?" he said finally. "Was that you I heard earlier?"

He felt a little funny talking to this owl, though he didn't know why, as he talked to Hedwig all the time. But even more so, he was desperate to convince himself that the noises he had been hearing--just now, this morning, last night--were all products of his overly active imagination, that they were nothing but this strange but beautiful owl fluttering its wings against the branches.

"Guess I'm being a little silly, aren't I?"

The owl continued to stare at him, then made the slightest of moves with its head. Harry felt his eyes widen--had it just nodded?

I'm being nutters again, he thought. It's just an owl, and I've been imagining those noises, that's all.

It dipped its head and pecked at his wrist, in the affectionate way Hedwig often did with him. Harry smiled and stroked its head. "Come on," he said, walking back to the hut, "let's go introduce you to some people..."

When Harry reached the door, Hermione was already standing at the doorway, waiting for him, her arms folded over her chest and her face knotted in a frown.

"There you are!" she said, pulling him in. She must not have noticed what Harry had on his arm. "I was just about to come and get you!"

Somewhere in the kitchen, Ron snickered. "Good grief, Hermione, the fellow was barely out at all-"

"He was gone for over fifteen minutes! We agreed that if he wasn't back in fifteen minutes-"

"Hermione, calm down," Harry told her. "I'm all in one piece... See?" He move his arm in front of him so she could see the owl. "Look what I found outside..."

"Oh Harry!!" Hermione squealed. "What a gorgeous owl! Where did you find it?"

"An owl!" Ron came running in from the kitchen, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. "Blimey, this is great!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said.

Ron sighed, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "Think about it, Hermione. Hedwig's wing hasn't healed yet--we can use this owl to get a message out that we need help!"

Hedwig hooted rather loudly, leaving no doubt that she was offended by such a suggestion. Ron looked at her and shrugged in apology.

"You know we love you, old girl," he said, "But this is an emergency..." He turned back to Harry and Hermione. "Look, this is our chance... Hermione's parents must be mad with worry by now. And my parents--I'm sure Dad's probably got the whole Ministry combing the countryside for us! We've got to let them know where we are!"

But Hermione wasn't saying anything. Instead, she was standing there, hands clasped, biting her lip. Ron must have noticed finally, because he said to her, "Don't tell me you have objections, Hermione..."

"Well-"

"Bloody hell, we've been stuck here for over a day!" he said, cutting her off before she could even begin her protest. "We've no idea where we are, no way of getting back to where we should be, our owl is injured, and in case all of that isn't enough, we've got a maniac out there who could be coming for us at any second to bring us to an even bigger maniac who'll... oh, who even bloody knows what he'll do to us! Don't you get it? We're in trouble here! Big trouble!"

"Thanks for the newsflash, Ron!" she spat back. "Because I really needed a reminder, didn't I?" She had turned all red again, as if she was ready to cry, but was fighting the urge with all her might so she wouldn't show that crack in her armor.

"I... I'm sorry," Ron said softly. "It's just that-"

"All right, you've had your say, now I'd like mine, please." Her voice was calm, though Harry could tell she was quite emotional underneath and it was taking every ounce of energy she had not to shout at him.

"Fine, go ahead."

"I know we're in trouble," she said. "I'd be stupid not to see that, wouldn't I?"

"But-"

She held out her hand to silence him immediately. "Let me finish!"

Ron nodded.

"I know we're in trouble, and I know we have to find some way to get back to Hogwarts or somewhere where we're safe and can trust people, but Ron, don't you see?"

Ron was clearly more than annoyed now. With frustration coming out of his every pore, he said, "See what?!"

"That it's too risky to send a message out!" Hermione told him. "What if our message gets intercepted? What if Peter himself--or worse, you-know-who--gets our letter? What then, Ron?"

Ron groaned and looked at Harry, who was thinking of a hundred different places he'd rather be right now than caught in the middle of yet another one of their raging battles. "Do you believe this? You agree with me, don't you?"

Oh no. He was not going to fall for that one.

"Ron, Hermione, maybe we should-"

"See, he does agree with me. Now let's just all be rational here and do what we need to do-"

That was it. That was enough to make Hermione blow up.

"Rational! How dare you imply that I'm not being rational!!" She obviously had more to say, but she either couldn't get all the words out fast enough, or else she couldn't make herself say what she really wanted to say. "Ron Weasley, you're so... so... Oh, why do you have to be such an insensitive git!!" All the resolve she had been using earlier to hold in her tears must have finally run out, because she was openly crying now.

And Ron was visibly upset by the sight, just as much as Harry was.

"Now look what you've made me do," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper now. "Do you really enjoy making me cry so much?"

"Come on, Hermione, I... I didn't mean..."

"I hate you, Ron Weasley! I hate you for making me cry all the time!"

She turned on her heel and ran towards the kitchen. Ron seemed completely stunned at what had just happened, shell-shocked and unable to utter a thing. All color had been drained from his face. Harry nudged him hard in the ribs.

"Go!" he whispered. "What are you waiting for?"

"Honest, Harry, I-" Ron stammered, "I didn't mean to hurt her like that... you know how we get..."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." He nudged him again, but this time, a little more gently. "Go... She needs to hear it from you."

Ron nodded and let out a heavy sigh, then walked off, leaving Harry shaking his head and looking at the owl, almost in apology.

"Sorry 'bout them," he told it. "They're... well, they're having problems admitting some things." He laughed softly, then walked over to the stove to rekindle the dying fire. The owl was now sitting on his shoulder, watching him as he worked, and in the background, he heard Hedwig whimpering jealously.

He could also hear Ron's and Hermione's voices from the kitchen, quieter now, more tender, though he was trying his best not to listen.

"Why do you keep doing this, Ron? It's like... it's like you take so much pleasure in hurting me..."

"Hermione, you know that's not true."

"Do I? I know Harry teases me too, sometimes. Sometimes a lot. And I can take that, but with you... sometimes, I just... don't understand you."

Ron's voice was very quiet when he answered. "I reckon I don't understand it myself half the time."

For a long time, neither of them said anything, and Harry wondered if he shouldn't step outside for just a little while. Even if he wasn't in the same room with them exactly, he felt bad being able to hear what was obviously a very private conversation.

He started to walk towards the door, the owl still perched on his shoulder, then he heard Hermione speak again.

"Ron, I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"If you care about me-"

"Hermione, you know I do."

"Then if you do... if you... feel about me the way I think you do... the way you know I do too..."

"What, Hermione?"

"Promise me you won't use that owl to send for help... please... I've got a bad feeling about it Ron, I really do."

There was a long pause before Harry finally heard Ron answer her.

"I promise."

It didn't seem as if Harry were going to get much sleep that night either. As it had been the night before, every time Harry closed his eyes, he could see the horrific images, sounds, sensations of that one terrible night seven months ago.

And tonight was even worse; he saw Cedric Diggory dying all over again, saw his lifeless body that Harry had risked all to bring back to his parents. It was not a memory he wanted to relive, not ever, and yet he couldn't stop the images from flooding his mind. They came crashing down on him, wave after wave, and he thought he would go mad from seeing it replayed endlessly.

Unable to take any more, he slowly got up, careful not to wake Hermione or Crookshanks, and sat up. On the table just ahead of him, he saw Hedwig and the other owl, both watching him as he rose, probably knowing what he was about to do.

"Ron..."

He was whispering as he shook Ron; Hermione would kill him if she saw what he was doing.

"Ron..."

Ron answered groggily without even opening his eyes. "Harry...?"

"Ron, come on... I need to talk to you..."

"Now? It's the middle of the night, Harry..."

"I know, but this is important."

"What is it-"

"Shh!!"

Harry pulled him up, and though Ron kept his eyes partially closed, he somehow managed to walk into the kitchen with Harry.

"What?" he said irritably.

"Look, you were right..."

"I was?" There was silence for a few moments, then Ron said, "About what? I don't remember..."

"About sending a message."

This time, Ron managed to open his eyes. "What??"

"Shh... You were right, I think we should use the owl to send a message to Dumbledore. Your parents must have contacted him by now--they'll be desperate for any kind of information on where we are!"

"But... But Hermione... I promised Hermione-"

"Ron, we have to do it. I know it's a risk, but if we don't send any kind of message, it's like we're sitting ducks. There'll be no chance of anyone finding us, and then we're on our own when Peter and Voldemort finally find us. And you know they will."

"I don't like this, Harry... I really don't like it..."

"What other choice do we have? At least this way we have a chance that Dumbledore may find us in time."

Ron looked back at him, and Harry knew he wouldn't be able to argue against this.

"All right?"

"Blimey, Harry, I promised her..."

Harry sighed. "I'll take all the blame. Once it's done, it can't be undone. And then she'll just have to find a way not to hate me."

Ron chuckled. "Oh good, then she'll hate you for a change."

"Yeah," Harry said. "So let's do it."

They tiptoed back into the other room, past Hermione and Crookshanks, who didn't seem to have heard anything. Harry stuck out his arm and gestured for the owl to fly to him. As it did, Hedwig let out a soft hoot, and Harry tried to quiet her.

"Come on, Hedwig," he said. "I need you to help us too... I need you to be quiet..." He turned to Ron. "Go into the kitchen and grab some of that paper that the bread came wrapped in, then meet me outside..."

Ron nodded, then disappeared into the kitchen. Harry walked as quietly as he could to the door and slipped outside, then started looking around for something--anything--that they could write with.

"Here," said Ron, handing him the paper. "Now what? We haven't any quills, much less any ink!"

"We'll just have to get creative, then." Harry bent down to grab a twig, and started scratching the paper with it. Seeing it make a mark, he smiled. "See? Where there's a will, there's a way."

He began to scribble on the paper:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

We are in trouble. Had to go into hiding, but we are trapped and need help. Please find us however you can. We can not hold on much longer...

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger

As if knowing that Harry was seeking his approval, Ron nodded. "Let's send it."

Harry rolled up the paper and fastened it to the owl's talons. "You'll need to deliver this to a Professor Albus Dumbledore, at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'll know what to do when he gets it."

The owl just looked at him for a few seconds, then began to flap its wings. Harry ducked out of its way and watched it as it floated in mid-air. He couldn't understand why it wasn't going, but he discovered all too soon why it didn't.

As in a slow-motion sequence in a Muggle film, Harry watched the owl stretch and grow, its wings extending and changing from white to the color of flesh, legs lengthening and feet sprouting, and beside him, Ron was whispering, "Bloody hell..."

And when it was all over, Harry and Ron looked in horror at who appeared before them.

Lord Voldemort.