Voldemort sat in his armchair in front of the fire. "Why can you not find the boy?" he snarled, the malevolence in his red eyes flashing through the darkness like twin daggers, pinning Peter to the floor. Like a wraith the Dark wizard slowly rose from the chair and approached the simpering Animagus.

Pettigrew whimpered softly, prostrating himself before his lord. "We’ve tried, my lord. He must’ve been taken by Dumbledore’s group."

Voldemort whirled and stalked to the hearth. "Dumbledore! Damn that man! There must be some way of finding the boy." He lashed out striking the items from the mantle, his sharp teeth gnashing as he growled low in his throat. Deep red eyes stopped on the quivering Wormtail. "You had him and he got away."

"Please, my lord. I’m sorry. What can I do? I’ll do anything!" Pettigrew feared for his life, knowing that being the object of Lord Voldemort’s wrath was often fatal

Voldemort kicked Wormtail hard in the side. "Get up! You will stake out the Dursleys house, around the clock. There’s a slim chance that it will be a lead." His frustration mounted at having the Potter boy in his grasp and then losing him through his foolish minion’s ineptitude. He kicked Wormtail again. "Go!"

§§§§§§§§§

"There you are," said Molly Weasley, a false cheerfulness filling her voice at the sight of her youngest children. "Let’s get going now, shall we?"

Ron and Ginny rose from their seats, their faces ashen and their expressions guilty. They avoided making eye contact with anyone and quickly stood, preparing to leave. They watched their father pick up the carpetbag they had hastily repacked and give it to Dumbledore, waving to them before he Apparated back to the Ministry. They followed their mother to the front door and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine.

The three of them were halfway down the block when Ron snapped out of his daze. "Aren’t we going to Floo home?" he asked. His mother kept bustling down the street as if she hadn’t heard him. Ron went after her, repeating the question.

Molly was preoccupied. She loved Harry as though he were her own and although she couldn’t say she liked Snape, she didn’t want him discovered as a spy! Goodness, things were simply going from bad to worse, she thought.

Molly saw her youngest son step in front of her and finally took note of his question. "What? No dear. It’s such a nice day I thought we’d take a little walk." Molly was more than a bit flustered. She had actually forgotten that they would usually Floo home, going out the door instead. I mustn’t let on that anything is wrong, she thought. My babies need to have some time away from worries for a change.

They turned the corner and picked up the pace as they headed for Diagon Alley. By the time the trio had reached the Leaky Cauldron they were all exhausted.

"Why don’t we stop here for lunch? Would you like that?" Molly asked, as the trio stepped inside. She was still shaken by all that had happened and desperately craved a diversion, and maybe a nice piece of pie.

Ron and Ginny exchanged startled looks. They rarely ate out because of the cost. "Sure, Mum, sounds nice," said Ginny dispiritedly.

As her children took their places at the table, Molly crossed to the bathroom to compose herself so the children would not know that anything was wrong.

Watching his mother’s retreating back, Ron leaned in to his sister. "You’ve got to take that sad sack look off your face. Mom’ll know something’s up!" he whispered as he glanced around the room to make sure nobody was paying attention to them.

Ginny shrugged. "Sorry." She attempted a smile that was even more pathetic.

"Blimey! Stick with the sad face. You can tell mum it’s your monthly or something."

Ginny reddened and punched her brother’s arm. "Shut it!"

Ron rubbed his bruised arm then noticed his mother approaching. He leaned close to his sister once more. "We go there tonight!" said Ron in a harsh whisper.

"Where?" asked Ginny.

"The Dursleys."

§§§§§§§§§

Albus Dumbledore stood by Snape’s bed, his eyebrows raised as he listened to the snores emanating from the Potions Master. A slight smile played at his lips as he watched his friend slumber. Severus would hate being seen like this, he thought, chuckling softly to himself. Turning his attention to Harry, the headmaster said, "Gracious, that’s a bit loud."

"That’s an understatement," muttered Harry, smirking. Turning his head, Harry saw the bag in Dumbledore’s hand. "Are those my things?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, they are, dear boy. I can leave them here on the table…"

"No! I’d like to see everything, sir, to make sure it’s all there." Harry struggled against the restraining spell looking to both sides of the headmaster, straining to see the familiar cage. "Where’s Hedwig?"

The twinkle faded from Dumbledore’s eyes. "Hedwig?" he repeated. The headmaster sat the bag on the nightstand and stared at the floor, as if looking for the right words to say.

"Did Mr. Weasley forget Hedwig?" Harry asked, the anxiety in his voice causing it to rise an octave as his stomach clenched painfully.

Dumbledore sat down beside Harry on the bed and sighed deeply. With deep sadness in his voice, he began, "Harry, I’m sorry to tell you that—"

"NO! I don’t want to hear it!" Harry shouted as he clamped both hands over his ears, feeling the blood rushing to his head, causing him to feel dizzy.

"I’m sorry, Harry, but birds are of a rather delicate nature…"

Harry shook his head wildly trying to deny the truth as tears sprung to his eyes.

Dumbledore leaned in and tried to touch Harry’s arm. "I’m so sorry."

"DON’T TOUCH ME! GET OUT! JUST GET OUT!"

Dumbledore knew that Harry would not accept comfort from him right now and with teens it had been his experience that it was better to let them cool down a bit before attempting to communicate again. With one last sympathetic glance to the anguished teen, he rose and backed away, closing the door behind him. It occurred to the headmaster that it might be a good idea to call Maia to help the boy.

"What is all this infernal screeching, boy!" snapped Severus from the other bed, his surly nature more pronounced than usual after being rudely awakened from a pleasantly deep slumber. He tried to get up and found that he could not. "What is going on here?" he said, shocked.

"That was your mother’s idea, to keep us from falling out of the bed!" Harry snapped, his voice hoarse from his outburst.

Snape sneered at Harry. "I will not have you malign my mother—"

"—Just shut up, will you?" Harry barked, beyond caring. He felt his emotions spinning out of control and was certain he would explode from the intensity of it all.

Angry red blotches appeared on Snape’s pallid face. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner, boy! I won’t allow it! If you think that simply because you’re injured you can treat your elders with such disrespect…" Severus stopped when he heard mournful sobbing. He looked to Potter’s bed and saw that Harry’s shoulders were shaking, his young face averted as he wept.

Harry didn’t want to break down in front of anyone, especially Snape, but he could no longer hold back the floodgates of his grief. Hedwig was gone and he would never have the joy of stroking her snowy white feathers or have her playfully nip his finger. She had been with him longer than anyone else. She had come home with him every summer and was many times his only companion. Hedwig was a beautiful and caring owl. She didn’t deserve to die in the trunk of a Muggle automobile. With that thought, Harry gave in to his sorrow, letting the rest of the world fade away as he mourned the loss of his friend and companion.

Across the room, Severus opened his mouth to say something scathing to the boy, but something in the set of the child’s shaking shoulders stopped him. Somehow, Severus knew that at this moment the boy would not hear anything the Potions Master might say. Severus wasn’t sure what he should do. At first he thought he would simply act as if nothing happened, but the sobbing seemed to be increasing instead of decreasing. Of course he had seen crying before, he was a Death Eater after all. He had seen it all, but he had never been called upon to actually do something about a child’s tears. Merlin’s beard, I’m not Molly Weasley, he grumbled to himself. The motherly witch would know just what to do, but the Potions Master found himself at a loss.

Snape waited for the tears to subside but became more uncomfortable with each passing second. Tears made him anxious. He always avoided the young female students, even those of his own House, because they seemed to burst into tears for no apparent reason. He could handle cheekiness with his usual aplomb, but such wailing! Potter’s sobs seemed to be getting louder. Severus began to have flashes of memory of people he had hurt in his Death Eater days, people who sobbed outright until their lives were ultimately taken, people who… I cannot let this continue, he thought. I’ll lose my mind! Snape said the first thing that came to his mind. "Potter, I forgive you of your outburst."

Startled by Snape’s comment as well as the unfamiliar inflections in the Potion’s Master’s voice, Harry sniffled and wiped his nose, turning his head to face Snape. "What?"

"I said, I forgive you for your previous outburst. There’s no need to be so upset about it." Snape’s words seemed forced and his expression was uncomfortable as he picked at a thread in the duvet, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

Harry shook his head, smiling sadly. "I’m not upset about that…sir. Hedwig is dead."

"Hedwig?" Severus prided himself on knowing all of the names of the students and knew no one by that name.

Harry released a deep breath, feeling utterly spent. "She w-was," he sucked in his breath, mentally bracing himself, before continuing "my owl, sir." Harry said, catching his breath again and swallowing the great lump in his throat as a lone tear trailed down his cheek.

"Ah." Severus nodded. The misery was evident in the boy’s face and Severus found a strange feeling in his chest, an odd feeling he hadn’t felt in so very long. It was sympathy. Sweet Merlin, thought Severus. How can I be feeling sympathy for this brat of a Gryffindor? He glanced into the child’s face as another tear trickled down his cheek and saw the child in a way he hadn’t before. This boy was grieving for a pet, much as he had once done. This whole idea is ridiculous! thought Severus, shaking his head to clear his mind. I must be hopped up on potions or something… feeling sympathy for Potter, indeed! Glancing at Potter again, Severus found the teen looking at him as if expecting a response so Severus quickly added, "Owls are noble creatures."

"Yes, sir, they are." Harry added, wondering at the different emotions that had flickered across his teacher’s face. Harry wanted to ask his teacher about these strange and unfamiliar emotions, but he remembered how angry Snape got when he viewed his most private memories in the pensive and wisely held his tongue instead.

Silence hung in the room, but it was a companionable silence; each wizard lost in his own thoughts.

"Did you ever have an owl, sir?" Harry asked, strangely curious.

"A tawny owl, Claudius." Snape found a smile curling his lips at the thought of his precious owl.

Harry was more than a little surprised to see his hated teacher smile; even it was only a little. It simply looked…odd. "Is he still around?"

Snape’s mouth curled downwards in a familiar deep scowl as his demeanor suddenly changed. "No, he isn’t. He’s been gone for many years now." The tone was cold and the words clipped.

"I’m sorry to hear that, sir," Harry said, wondering at the icy change in his teacher and was content to let the suddenly uncomfortable subject drop.

The connecting door to the room opened and Maia rolled in, followed closely by the headmaster with a potion bottle in his hand.

"How are my two patients today?" asked Maia cheerfully. She looked from one face to the other and could feel the tension in the room.

Severus found a target for his sudden ill temper. "Mother, why do you have us both in one room? Surely this domicile, and I use that term loosely, has at least several bedrooms, enough for us to have separate rooms?" Severus barked.

"I will not tolerate your cheek, young man," Maia snapped. "It sounds like you need a refresher course in respecting your elders." Her eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze forcing her son to look away.

Maia turned her attention to Harry "Albus tells me that you’re distraught over losing your owl?" Harry nodded and she continued. "Magical folks have special ties to certain creatures and owls are highly prized in the wizarding world, as you know." She smiled softly. "Do you remember Claudius, Severus?" She glanced to her son who nodded mutely. "Severus was extremely attached to that animal. You’d think that the world had ended when that," she stated the next name with much venom, "Sirius Black killed him." Her black eyes glinted with hatred. "Evil wizard from an evil family. Blood will tell."

Harry’s eyebrows rose. What is she talking about? he thought in shock. This whole family has a thing about the Blacks! How could anyone believe that!

"Maia," said Albus, trying to get the topic away from Sirius Black. "I was headmaster at the time and the owl’s death, although regrettable, was accidental, was it not Severus?"

Harry’s wide green eyes turned to Snape, who said nothing, his jaw clenched tightly with a muscle twitching in his cheek. Did my godfather kill Snape’s owl? wondered Harry, feeling a pang of sympathy for the Potions Master.

Maia saw her son’s troubled face and decided to change the subject. "Harry, child, do you need anything? Something to calm your nerves, perhaps?" asked Maia, her eyes kind again.

"No, ma’am. I would like to be released from this bed bind, though."

§§§§§§§§§

"Is it much farther, Ron?" asked Ginny. "My hands are freezing and my lips are getting numb." She clutched her broomstick tighter with her half-numb fingers.

"It’s not much farther. This is his neighborhood here."

Ron and Ginny dipped their broomsticks forward and cut through the atmosphere diving gracefully toward the ground. They hovered above the grass for a moment before gingerly stepping off their brooms and stretching their aching bodies. The two then trudged across the dewy grass toward what the Dursley’s house. Cautiously they peered into the window of the dark house.

"It’s all dark inside," complained Ginny.

"It’s the middle of the night," said her smirking brother. "Let’s go around to the side of the house to get under Harry’s bedroom window."

As they slipped around to the back of the house they heard a rustling in a bush nearby. Both leapt back against the house and stared intently at the bush. Seconds later a cat emerged from the greenery with a small mouse clenched in its teeth. They heaved a sigh of relief and continued their trek around the side of the house.

Behind them, the bush rustled again, as a silver hand, gleaming in the moonlight, drew the branches out of the way. Beady eyes watched the teens every move.