For the next two months, Harry’s routine didn’t change. He attended his classes, put the smallest possible amount of effort into his homework, and practiced magic every night after curfew. By mid-March he was able to fire spells with equal ease from both hands, and he was learning to launch them from his feet as well.
After so many months of sleeping in a room by himself, Harry nearly jumped through the low ceiling when he awoke to the sound of a soft voice in his ear whispering, “Good morning, Harry Potter.” Once the initial panic had passed, he looked around and saw a small, rusty brown snake with a crossed pattern running down its back.
“Good morning, Hassseth,” Harry said with a smile. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How was hibernation?”
“Better than being out in the cold,” the snake replied. “How have things gone for you?” She looked at him inquiringly, and Harry wondered if she already knew the answer to her question.
“Not long after you started hibernating, Big Tom and his gang came after Tyler and me again. I was able to hold them off for a while, but one of them snuck up behind me and caught me by surprise. Luckily, Tyler escaped and got help before they were able to kill me, but I had to spend a long time in the infirmary.”
Hassseth nodded her head sympathetically. “You should have let me bite him when I had the chance,” she hissed. “It wouldn’t have done any permanent damage, but it would have been a while before he was able to sit normally.”
“He’s gone now anyway,” said Harry. “He and Hodges both got sent to a regular youth prison. That’s not the exciting thing, though. I found out something about myself while you were snoozing inside the walls.” He leaned down closer to the small snake and whispered, as though afraid someone else might hear, “I’m a witch.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Hassseth broke into a fit of coughing and wheezing the likes of which Harry had never seen. He was just becoming alarmed when he realized with a jolt that she wasn’t coughing at all - the strange sounds he was hearing were the snake’s laughter.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded. The ability to do magic had become an important part of his life over the past months, and the idea that one of his very few friends found it amusing irritated him.
Hassseth spent a moment getting her laughter under control before using the tip of her tail to wipe away an imaginary tear and answering, “If you’re a witch, dear, then you’d better run before someone catches you in an all boys’ school.” Then, in a somewhat gentler tone, she added, “Witches are girls, Harry. You’re a wizard.”
“A wizard?” Harry asked blankly. Then, as the idea sank in, he grinned. “I’m a wizard.” It had a nice ring to it.
Hassseth smiled at him, showing her brilliantly white fangs, but Harry saw it for what it was and didn’t feel the slightest bit threatened.
“Can you talk to other kinds of animals, or just other snakes?” he asked suddenly.
“All animals can communicate, although we might not always be able to speak to one another directly. It’s complicated, but we can usually get our point across,” answered Hassseth. “Is there another animal you want me to speak with for you?”
“Yeah.” Harry was relieved that she didn’t seem offended by the idea. “You see, I have this other animal friend, Snowy. Actually, I’m sure that’s not her real name, but since I can’t talk to her, I don’t know what her real name is. She’s a snowy owl-”
Harry was cut off abruptly by a sharp hiss from Hassseth.
“What is it?” he asked immediately, concerned that he had said something wrong.
“Adders and birds of prey are enemies,” hissed the snake, her black eyes suddenly glittering in the dim light of the room. “If I give your owl friend half a chance, I’ll be her supper.”
“She wouldn’t hurt you, Hassseth,” Harry said in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone. “I’ll be there holding you the whole time, and I promise I won’t let anything happen. I just want you to ask her what her real name is. That’s all.”
Hassseth thought this over for a long moment before finally nodding her tiny diamond-shaped head. “I’ll do it,” she said finally, “but if there’s any funny business, I won’t hesitate to bite.”
“There won’t be,” Harry promised. “Is tonight okay with you?”
Hassseth nodded. Suddenly, the sound of jangling keys came from outside the door.
“Go!” Harry hissed. It was unnecessary. At the first sound from outside, Hassseth had slithered across the floor with surprising speed and, by the time the door was opened, she had disappeared into a crack in the wall.
“Wake-up call,” the guard grunted through the open door.
“I’m up,” Harry grumbled. He hurriedly gathered his dressing gown and towel and headed off to take a quick shower before breakfast.
All day long, Harry’s mind was so occupied with the planned meeting between Hassseth and Snowy that he had trouble concentrating on his lessons. More than once, he was reprimanded for failing to pay attention, although he was never sure how the teachers had managed to catch him; after all, at least half the class daydreamed their way through anyway.
By the time everyone had gone to bed, Harry was pacing his room with excitement. Hassseth seemed to be even more nervous than he was, as she repeatedly coiled and uncoiled her body on the floor. Finally deciding that they had waited long enough, Harry offered his left hand to Hassseth and she slithered into it, wrapping the tail end of her body around his wrist for support and coiling the rest of herself in his palm. Noiselessly, they stole through the corridors until they arrived outside.
As he approached Snowy’s tree, Harry whistled softly, just as he always did. The large owl hooted her reply, and within seconds he spotted her soaring down toward him.
“On the branch tonight, girl, okay?” Harry called.
Snowy gave him a questioning look, but changed course and perched on a low branch of the tree. She cocked her head sideways and watched Harry expectantly.
“Snowy,” Harry said as he held out his left hand, “this is Hassseth.”
The owl began fluffing her feathers and furiously clacking her beak, making a horrible racket, and raised one clawed foot to take a swipe at the snake. Hassseth hissed menacingly, baring her long, sharp fangs.
“No!” Harry shouted, and jerked Hassseth away from Snowy. “She’s my friend, Snowy, just like you are. I realize you’re natural enemies, but please just put that aside for right now. I only brought her here so she can find out your real name for me. There’s no threat, I promise.”
Slowly, the two animals grew calm once again. Hassseth stopped hissing and stowed her fangs, and Snowy smoothed her feathers down once more.
Harry looked down at Hassseth. “Ask her,” he hissed.
Hassseth raised her body up in the air and let out a soft hiss as her forked tongue flitted in and out of her mouth. Slowly, she began to weave back and forth in a strange pattern, sometimes hissing and sometimes remaining silent. After what seemed an eternity, she lowered herself back into Harry’s palm and waited expectantly.
Now it was the owl’s turn. She hooted excitedly, clacked her beak, and hopped from one foot to the other. Then she fluffed up her feathers, beat her wings a few times, and smoothed her feathers down again. She twisted her head nearly all the way around - first to her right, and then to her left - while hooting a haunting melody. Finally, she took off from the branch, circled the tree once, and landed back in the same spot, looking expectantly at Hassseth.
“Well?” Harry asked the snake.
“You promise that this is the only time you’ll ask me to do this?” Hassseth responded.
“I promise,” said Harry.
“Very well. The owl’s name is Hedwig.”
Harry grew suddenly lightheaded and nearly lost his balance as the full meaning of Hassseth’s words washed over him. Hedwig, the one he was supposed to use to send a message to his forgotten friend, Ron, had been with him all along.
“Thank you, Hassseth,” he managed to choke out. Then, stroking the snowy owl’s feathers with his right hand, he whispered, “Thank you, Hedwig.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ronald Weasley awoke to the sound of a beak tapping on the window of his dormitory at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Somebody let the bloody owl in,” he mumbled into his pillow.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The tapping continued, and it soon became apparent that Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas - the boys who shared Ron’s dormitory - had already headed down to breakfast. Ron, who had been hoping to have a bit more of a lie in on this Saturday morning, groaned loudly as he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the window. As he pushed the window open, however, he caught sight of the owl that flew into the room and his eyes flew open wide, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.
It had been almost a year since he had last seen this snowy white owl, and more than once Ron had wondered if he would ever see her - or her owner and his best friend, Harry Potter - again. Yet here she was, holding out her leg, which had a letter tied to it. Slowly, as though acting in haste might cause it to disappear, Ron untied the letter and opened it. It was written on Muggle paper using some sort of Muggle quill, but the handwriting was unmistakably Harry’s. His heart pounding, Ron began to read.
Dear Ron,
I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner, but I wasn’t able to send anything with Hedwig until recently. School is going okay - it’s boring a lot of the time, but I guess that’s to be expected, right? I just wanted to let you know that I came out okay from what happened last June. Let me know how things are going on your end. You can send a reply with Hedwig.
-Harry Potter
“What!” Ron shouted at the letter. “You disappear without a trace for almost an entire year, and the best you can come up with is, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner’?” Still fuming, he pulled on a set of robes and dashed down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Glancing around, he saw that the only person there was Colin Creevey, a very small fifth-year.
“Hey Colin,” he called, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice, “have you seen Hermione?”
Colin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’ll bet she’s in the library,” he said.
“Right,” said Ron, and he headed out the portrait hole toward the library. Five minutes later, he was entering the library where, sure enough, he found Hermione Granger sitting behind a sizeable stack of thick books.
“Hermione,” he whispered, panting a little from having run nearly all the way from Gryffindor Tower.
Hermione looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow at him. “If this is about you wanting to copy my Potions essay again, save your breath; I’ve already said no several times.” She turned back to her reading without waiting for a response.
Ron bit back a sarcastic reply; he didn’t need a fight right now. Instead, he whispered, “I didn’t come here to talk about Potions; I came here to talk about this!” He slapped Harry’s note down on top of the book Hermione was reading.
Hermione stared at the note for a second, and then let out a little shriek, for which she earned a glare from Madam Pince, the librarian. Soon, however, her expression clouded and she looked up at Ron. “Don’t you find it a bit odd that this came today of all days?” she asked.
Ron stared at her blankly. “What does it matter what day it came?”
Hermione sighed. “Ron, what day is it?” she coaxed.
“Er-” he looked around for a calendar. “It’s Fred and George’s birthday. But I still don’t see what that has to do with Harry.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “April Fool’s Day, Ron - that’s what today is. Don’t you find it a little odd that it’s been ten months since there was any sign of Harry, and now, all of a sudden, a letter from him appears on April Fool’s Day?”
“But why would Harry be trying to play a joke on us?” Ron asked, still unsure what his friend was suggesting.
“That’s not what I meant, Ron. I meant that it might not really be from Harry. It might just be somebody playing a cruel joke on you.”
Ron’s face flushed as he finally understood what Hermione had been trying to say. “This is Harry’s handwriting, Hermione, and Hedwig delivered it to me. It came from Harry alright, but there’s definitely something fishy about it too. Look at this: ‘School is going okay.’ What bloody school is he going to? I mean, he honestly sounds like he doesn’t even know he’s been missing.
Upon hearing that Hedwig had delivered the letter, Hermione examined it more closely. After two full minutes of staring at the short note, she finally looked Ron in the eye and whispered, “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore.”
After calmly strolling out of the library, Ron and Hermione took off at a run. They dashed down a long corridor and down two flights of stairs, then turned abruptly to the right and kept running until they came to a corridor whose only inhabitant was the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. As they skidded to a halt, Ron looked expectantly at Hermione.
“What do you think the password is?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” she shouted in exasperation. “It’s not like I come to the Headmaster’s office very often!”
“Well how are we supposed to get in, then?” Ron demanded.
“How-” Hermione’s retort was cut short by the gargoyle leaping aside to reveal Professor Dumbledore standing in the entrance to his office. He was wearing bright red robes and a serene smile, and did not look the least bit surprised to find two students arguing just outside his office.
“Good morning Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger,” the professor said with a wink. “What brings you to this deserted corridor on such a lovely day as this? Is there something you wish to see me about?”
“Yes, sir,” Ron said hastily. “You see, this note arrived for me this morning.” He handed the crumpled note to Dumbledore, who read it through carefully before inviting them both up to his office.
Once they were all seated comfortably, Dumbledore examined the note again, more closely this time. After a full three minutes - which felt more like thirty to Ron - he touched the tip of his wand to the paper and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes again after only a short wait, and said, “You did well to bring this to me.” Hermione beamed. “I believe that Mr. Potter did in fact write this letter. How did it arrive?”
“Hedwig “ that’s Harry’s owl - brought it to my dormitory,” Ron answered.
“I see,” Dumbledore mused. “Have either of you seen Hedwig since Harry disappeared?”
“No sir,” they answered in unison.
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the things Mr. Potter has chosen to say in this note are a bit odd.”
“‘A bit odd?’” Ron interrupted loudly. “It sounds like he’s barking! He’s been missing for what, ten months now? And all he can say is, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner?’” He suddenly stopped talking and started blushing as he realized he had been shouting at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore, however, resumed speaking again as if nothing had happened. “He seems to be in some sort of trouble, although frankly, I have no idea what trouble that might be. It appears that he’s trying to hide something, wouldn’t you say?”
Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione spoke up. “What about the part where he talks about school? Do you think that could be some sort of hidden message? I mean, it’s obvious he’s not really at school, isn’t it?”
“Who cares about that?” fumed Ron. “Let’s just go find him so I can beat the snot out of him for disappearing and scaring everybody!”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said with a small frown.
“Why not?” Ron asked. “All we’ve got to do is write a response, give it to Hedwig, and follow her to see where he is.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “You can’t follow post owls, Ron - honestly, you ought to know that by now. No matter how many times you try, the owl will always end up losing you long before delivering its message.”
“You are quite right, Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore. “If post owls could be followed, tracking down fugitives would be a far simpler task.”
“Sir,” Hermione began, “do you think Harry’s trying to talk to us in code? Like when he mentions school and what happened last June?”
The Headmaster examined the tips of his long fingers and sighed. “I wish I knew, Miss Granger. Obviously, the events of last June most likely refers to the battle at the Ministry of Magic and the death of Harry’s godfather, but other than that....” He trailed off, and there was a long silence as they all contemplated what Harry might be trying to tell them.
After several minutes, Ron broke the silence by asking, “Professor, what should we do now? I’ve half a mind to send him a howler-”
“No, Ron!” Hermione insisted. “What if he’s somewhere where an exploding letter will cause him trouble? For all we know, he could be a prisoner somewhere, slipping notes through the bars to Hedwig, and hoping they don’t get intercepted.”
“Well, what should I write, then?” asked Ron.
“I would recommend answering Harry’s questions and then asking some of your own,” answered Dumbledore. “Try and get him to tell you where he is so that we can send someone to go and fetch him. I suspect, however, that he may be reluctant to reveal his whereabouts in a letter, particularly given the cryptic nature of what he has written here.” He tapped the letter for emphasis.
Ron nodded, and Hermione said, “Thank you, sir,” as they stood and headed for the exit.