Harry Potter and the Heartwood Arrow

    Harry looked at the alarm clock. It was two o' clock in the morning. He couldn't sleep. Dumbledore had said that the rains would let up soon, and owls would be coming. The thought of words from his friends filled him with anticipation.

    There would also be information on the fight with Voldemort. At least, any information that wasn't too risky to send by owl. Before the rains had come, Harry had found that, while the bits of critical information left out were still infuriating, the fact that he was not completely out of the loop this year made it bearable. That had been scant comfort after the storm had stopped all communication, trapping him with the Dursley's for two weeks.

    Harry reminded himself to thank Moody and the others for what they did at King's Cross the next chance he got. It was their threats that had kept the Dursleys halfway civil towards him all summer, and it was only by reminding Uncle Vernon of this that he had escaped being yelled at for hours for spending the evening with Amanda.

    Talking with her had easily been the best thing that had happened to him all summer. She was so fun and vibrant. Just thinking about her brought a smile to his face, but it was immediately followed by a sigh. Rose Hill might as well have been on the other side of the planet. He doubted he'd ever see her again.

    He pulled out the Hogwarts letter for the fifth time that night. He had, of course, gotten an 'Outstanding' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he had managed to scrape by one in Charms and, much to surprise, Potions, which meant he could still try at being an Auror. Even better was the 'Outstanding' he got in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid would be happy. He'd gotten an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Transfiguration, and an 'Acceptable' in Divination and Herbology. His only failing grades were a 'Poor' in History of Magic, and, thanks largely to Umbridge's surprise attack on Hagrid, a 'Dreadful' in Astronomy. Still, seven OWLs was definitely nothing to sneeze at.

    There was also a checklist of NEWT level classes he was supposed to send back, indicating which courses he wanted to continue. Harry had marked down all seven classes he had received OWLs for. As much as he'd like to give up Divination, he needed to make sure he got at least five NEWTs in his seventh year, and the more classes he took, the more likely that was.

    In addition to that, there were Specialist courses being offered. The Weapon Dueling class Dumbledore had mentioned looked interesting, and would undoubtedly be useful. Apparation would be helpful for getting out of jams quickly, as long as he wasn't at Hogwarts, and the Animagus course would be useful for hiding, not to mention a potential weapon.

    Harry let out a heavy sigh. He doubted any other students were picking Specialist courses based on which ones would help the most in a battle with Voldemort. Don't think about it, he told himself, but that never truly worked. No matter how hard he tried, the thought lingered in the back of his head. It was the knowledge of the prophecy, that he would either kill Voldemort or be killed by him, that sapped his energy whenever he let his guard down.

    He looked at Midnight, but she was sleeping contently on his pillow. He could have used some of her comfort, like she had given him earlier, but he was unwilling to wake her.

    A sharp rap on the window shook Harry out of his revelry. He dashed to the window, almost tripping in his haste to open it. This was it. The owls were starting to arrive.

    He wrenched open the window and was immediately drenched as the winds blew rain in. Something black zoomed past his head. It was a large, black raven that circled the room once before landing on the towels on Harry's dresser. Harry had put them out earlier, in anticipation of the wet state the owls would be arriving in.

    “Special delivery,” the raven stated matter-of-factly, as it shook the water from its feathers. Harry had never seen a raven deliver post before, but it carried a package with it. “Special delivery for Harry Potter.”

    “I'm Harry Potter,” he told the raven.

    “Arcamedes, the raven,” the bird said, nodding his head in a sort of bowing motion. Harry nodded back, and untied the package from Arcamedes' leg. There was no name on the wrapping, so Harry ripped off the paper and pulled out a hardbound book.

    “'A Wizards Guide to Dating Muggle Girls by Fuddulus Hart'?” Harry read out loud. He looked up at Arcamedes. “What is this?”

    “Special delivery for Harry Potter,” Arcamedes repeated.

    Harry eyed the raven. “You can't say much, can you?”

    “I can't say much,” the raven quipped, “but I can say enough.”

    Harry turned his focus to the book. Was this some sort of joke? Before a few hours ago, he hadn't even spoken to a muggle girl since he was ten. But even if someone in the wizarding world had somehow found out about his evening with Amanda, they couldn't have gotten this book to him so quickly.

    “Who sent this?” Harry asked Arcamedes.

    “Uncle Tom.”

    “And who's Uncle Tom?”

    “Uncle Tom is Uncle Tom.”

    Harry sighed. “You're not going to give me any more information, are you?”

    Arcamedes bobbed his head. “Nevermore.” Harry stared dubiously at the raven. “Sorry, raven joke.” He stretched out his wings and took off out the window, narrowly missing a small, grey object that careened out of control. Harry leapt forward and caught the diminutive owl, Pigwidgeon, who looked up at him and hooted happily.

    “Honestly,” Harry told Pig, “one of these days you're going to need to learn how to fly proper.” He deposited Pig on the towels, and tried to remove the letter from his leg, which was difficult, as Pig didn't like to stand still.

    After a bit of work, he managed to get the letter, but by that time, several other owls had flown in, lining up on the towel-covered dresser. First was Hedwig, who nipped affectionately at his finger as he untied the two parcels. One bore Hermione's tidy handwriting while the other appeared to be from the Creevey brothers. Then came two Hogwarts barn owls, carrying a long package between the two of them. A young tawny owl that struggled with two packages flew in, followed closely by another Hogwarts owl, who seemed to be hooting encouragement to the tawny. Last of all of them was an eagle owl, his feathers dyed in bright purples and reds, carrying a package clearly labeled with a Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes logo on the side.

    Harry quickly relieved each of them of their loads, and informed them they could stay as long as they needed to recover from the storm. The Hogwarts owls left as soon as Harry took their packages from them. The young tawny, who appeared to have been sent by the Weasleys, hooted a weary thanks. The brightly colored eagle owl also stayed, looking very self-conscious about his unusual colors.

    He started with Ron's letter, which mentioned coming to pick him up soon, but was irritatingly vague, although Harry supposed his travel plans WERE best kept a secret. Apparently Hermione had been bugging him to give Harry something more practical than the chocolates and sweets he normally gave him. Tucked in the envelope was a coupon book for butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks.

    Next he turned to the package Hedwig had brought from Hermione. Her letter also spoke of meeting soon, but, similar to Ron's, contained no actual information about when, where, or how. Hermione claimed to be following Ron's advice to give Harry something more fun then practical this year. Tearing open the package, he found a thick book titled “An Auror's Account: A Brief History of the Auror Organization.” Colin's present was a small camera, with a spare roll of film and a note thanking him for his help in defensive magic and offering to help him develop the pictures once he had filled the roll.

    The tawny owl was still recovering from carrying three packages, but he appeared to have come from the Order's headquarters, as he carried packages from Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys, and one from Remus Lupin. Harry felt a twinge of sorrow as he wondered if they were still using number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Ginny's letter was much more casual than Ron or Hermione's, probably because it contained absolutely no information about the Order, or him coming to see them soon. She asked how his summer was and went on, at great length, about how boring the Summer was when it was just her and Ron. The package itself contained a small bracelet, shaped like a ring of feathers, for Hedwig that would help protect her from storms and predators. Considering the current weather, he thought it was a very smart gift.

    He turned to give it to Hedwig, but she had gone. Harry looked around the room, and then out the window, but there was no sign of her. It was unusual for her to leave without telling him, especially with the winds and rain still going at it.

    Still, there was nothing he could do until she came back, and Hedwig could take care of herself. He turned his attention back to the gifts. Mrs. Weasley had sent a large cake (much too large, as Harry had no one to share it with), and a dark blue shirt that, according to the letter, would make him less susceptible to injuries while he wore it. Her letter was filled with words of concern and caution, and she mentioned several times that she would be much happier if he was with them sooner. This gave him mixed feelings. He was getting tired of everybody warning him all the time. He KNEW there was danger out there. He didn't need to be reminded. On the other hand, it was nice to know she cared about him so much.

    Lupin's letter was brief, mostly explaining the gift: a small black stone, about the size of a fist, with multi-colored swirls running through it. It was called a diviner's stone, and apparently was a relatively new type of magic. Lupin said that it was still undergoing some final tests in the Department for Experimental Charms, and he was only able to get it because he was friends with the witch running the project and because he was giving it to Harry. If held against an object, it would interact with any enchantments without actually triggering them. Depending on the heat, texture, and the color and motions of the swirls, it was possible to determine what spells were on an item. A thick book gave detailed information on how to read the stone.

    Next he looked at the package from the twins. It was a large box filled with all sorts of sweets. The top of the box was shaped like a skull with the words “Terribly Twisted Treats” emblazoned across its forhead. The handwriting in the letter kept switching between paragraphs; obviously the twins had taken turns writing it. They had taken the tone of businessmen writing to their investor, which wasn't too far from the truth, as Harry had given them the money to start their business in the first place. As expected, though, they were far from serious, going so far as to compliment Harry on his latest step to make Voldemort bald through a combination of stress and hair-pulling. As a final note, they told him (quite needlessly) not to eat the candy himself, that it was still highly experimental, and that should anything get out of control, the peppermint sticks at the bottom of the box would undo almost any of the effects the candies were capable of inflicting.

    Finally there were the packages from Hogwarts. Hagrid's gift was a beautiful wood carving of a stag, which, if broken, would immediately alert any nearby members of the Order to Harry's peril. He sighed at the implicit statement of caution, but the carving was still very nice. He put it on his shelf and turned to the final package: the long, slender parcel that the first two Hogwarts owls had brought.

    Inside was an object wrapped in a scarlet cloth with golden trim. Harry hastened to undo the clasps that held it in place, but he already knew what it was. He slid away the cloth to reveal a sword and scabbard. The scabbard was made from red leather, with a gold fillagree. A male lion was embossed on the leather. The rubies on the golden hilt sparkled in the light.

    He drew the sword. It made a very satisfying ring as it cleared the scabbard. True to Harry's suspicions, the words “Godric Gryffindor” were etched into the blade. He took a few practice swings. The sword felt much more comfortable than it had three years ago, and he experimented, swinging it first with one hand, then with two.

    Yes, he thought, the Weapon Dueling class would be very interesting.

    “Hedwig!” he said as the snowy owl flew back in the window. “Why on earth did you fly back out into...” He trailed off as he saw the paper tied to Hedwig's foot. It hadn't been there when he removed Hermione's present. Could she have flown to Mrs. Figg's?

    Anxiously, he untied the note. It was perfectly dry – the Impervious charm, Harry supposed. He unfolded it, and read the hasty scrawl:

    Voldemort has a new spell. No details, but plans to use it on someone close to “get to you.” Warn others.

    That was all it said, but it was enough.

    Frantically, Harry pulled out a scrap of parchment and his quill. His fingers were shaking so much that his writing was barely legible. He quickly wrote down what little he knew about the message, and copied the message itself. Midnight had apparently woken up, and echoed his anxiety, rubbing nervously against Harry's leg.

    “Impervious!” he said, waving his wand over the parchment. “Hedwig, take this to Dumbledore as quickly as possible!” Hedwig took flight the instant he finished tying the note to her leg, clipping his head with her wing in the process.

    He made out two more copies of the note. One he tied to the tawny owl with instructions to take the letter to the Weasleys. He was a bit nervous that the brightly colored eagle owl might not take orders from him, but he needed to get a message to Hermione. Fortunately, he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, and moments later, he, too, was flying off with a message.

    “No, Pig,” Harry said, for Pigwidgeon had fluttered down and was anxiously waiting a letter to deliver, too. “I need you here in case something else comes up, okay?”

    Pig looked at Harry blankly, then hooted happily, nipping at Harry's fingers. Harry sighed, clearly the situation was beyond the comprehension of the little owl.

    He scooped up Midnight and held her close. He could feel her trembling in his arms. “Don't worry,” he whispered. “We'll be okay.”

    He put her down and made his way downstairs to the phone, where he punched in Mrs. Figg's number.

    “Come on, come one,” he said, as he waited for someone to pick up. The phone continued to ring. Of course, they were probably asleep. He could only hope that the ringing would wake one of them up.

    After about twenty rings, he heard Charlie's voice.

    “Er, hello?” he said, obviously uncertain of what he was doing.

    “It's me, Harry.”    

    “Are you okay?” Charlie asked. “What happened?”

    “I'm fine,” Harry reassured him. He then told him about the mysterious letter he had just received. “I sent owls to Professor Dumbledore, your mother, and Hermione Granger. And I've got Pig here just in case.”

    “Good thinking, Harry. I'd like to head over to your place, to be on the safe side, but with my leg, I'm not sure I'd make it. Besides, it sounds like they're not targeting you directly, so it's probably better if I stay put. Still, this mysterious informant worries me. Any thoughts on who it might be?”

    “Well it's not Snape,” Harry said. “I've had to stare at his writing long enough to recognize it when I see it. He probably would have just come in, anyway. Whoever sent this was nearby. Hedwig wasn't gone for more than five minutes.”

    “I don't know how muggles put up with these phones,” Charlie sighed. “I can't stand not being able to see who I'm talking to. Anyway, just be careful. It sounds like we've got a hidden ally nearby, but it could still be a trap.”

    “You be careful, too,” Harry said. “I'll call you if something else happens.”

    He returned the phone to its cradle and returned to his room. Midnight was chasing Pigwidgeon, who was flying around in low circles. He collapsed onto the bed and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

    As tired as he was, his sleep was fitful, filled with images of Sirius and that horrid arch and of his friends suffering horrible fates. He saw Hermione fall to the ground under Dolohov's wand, Ron being attacked by the odd brain-like creatures, Mrs. Weasley breaking into tears as the boggart kept assuming the form of her family dead, and more images far worse than anything that had truly happened.

    He woke to something soft bumping against his cheek. Midnight was trying to wake him by batting him with her paw. Seeing he was awake, she rubbed the side of her head against him. He caught glimpses of a strange dream where Midnight was chasing a butterfly. He could feel how strongly Midnight was trying to get him to feel this dreams, no doubt in hopes that he'd forget his own.

    He'd dreamt those dreams ever since he returned from Hogwarts. At first he thought it might have been some attack from Voldemort, but as time went on, he realized that they were the product of his own guilt and fears. Every morning he woke feeling more drained than he had the night before.

    A glance at the clock told him it was seven. That meant he had gotten less than four hours of sleep. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew he wouldn't fall asleep again.

    He wasn't sure how long he had been laying like that, listening to the rain pounding on the roof, when a large owl flew in through his open window. His curiosity waged war with his apathy, but in the end curiosity won out, and he pulled himself out of bed.

    The owl was from the Daily Prophet. It carried a large package, which Harry took from it. Inside was a rather small edition of the Daily Prophet, as well as a note that read:

Dear customer,

    We apologize for the lack of service in the recent weeks and any inconvenience it might have caused. Enclosed is a special Seeker Edition of the Daily Prophet. Merely place your right hand on the paper, and say a topic out loud. Any relevant articles will appear. We thank you for your continued patronage.

    Harry looked at the paper. Except for the “Daily Prophet” banner at the top, it was completely blank. He put his right hand on top of it.

    “Death Eater attacks.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than words started to form, seeping out of the paper. The headline read “Death Eater Lucius Malfoy Dies After Battle In Athens.” A picture slowly faded in beneath it, showing Charlie Weasley sitting on the steps of a Greek temple. The figure in the picture gasped for breath, and clutched his bleeding leg.

    It didn't fully register with Harry at first, but then it suddenly sank in. Lucius Malfoy was dead? Why hadn't Charlie told him. He quickly scanned the articles.

    On Tuesday, July 12th Order of the Phoenix member Charles Weasley caught up with Death Eater Lucious Malfoy on the steps of the Pallas Athena temple. Imprisoned after Harry Potter revealed his connections to You-Know-Who, and released in the most recent raid on Azkaban, Malfoy had been spotted in Spain, France, Germany, Italy, and, finally, Greece.

    Charles Weasley, professional dragon handler, ran into Malfoy in a chance encounter in Montreal, Spain. He relentlessly followed Malfoy for over a month before finally catching up with the Death Eater. Witnesses report the battle was intense, lasting most of the night, before Weasley managed to defeat Malfoy, taking serious injury himself. Although Weasley had been attempting to bring in Malfoy alive, Malfoy did not survive the wounds he had received in the battle.

    The article went on, giving background on both Malfoy and Charlie. Did Charlie know? Or had they shipped him off here before Malfoy had died? He put it in a mental list of questions to ask Charlie the next chance he got, along with what he was doing in Montreal in the first place.

    He spent the next few hours pouring over the newspaper, saying whatever topics he could think of. After a while, though, it began to depress him. There simply wasn't much good news out there.

    He turned to the diviner's stone. Soon he had run the stone over every enchanted object he had on hand. Reading the stone was difficult; small changes in vibration or heat could drastically change the meaning of what the stone was saying. Even the book stated that, in the end, intuition was a key factor in using the stone. Still, he felt he was starting to get pretty good at it (although he couldn't even BEGIN to interpret the stone when he placed it on some of the Terribly Twisted Treats).

    His attention finally came to 'A Wizards Guide to Dating Muggle Girls by Fuddulus Hart.' He was suspicious of the book, but after running the diviner's stone over it several times, and comparing it to his other books, he concluded that the only enchantments on the book were the moving pictures and such that were found in all wizard books.

    The book itself was interesting, it contained information on just about everything Harry might need to know for dating a muggle girl. Chapters ranged from “When To Tell Her You're a Wizard, and What To Tell Her Until Then” to “Weird and Bizarre Things Muggles Find Romantic.” Hart's technical information seemed accurate enough, like what you had to do to get permission to tell a muggle about the wizarding world, but some of his ideas on what muggle girls liked to do seemed a little far fetched. However, his wife, Jaime Hart, had written in corrections, and bits of her own advice along the margins.

    “Hey!” Dudley's voice pulled Harry's concentration away from “Chapter Three: How To Survive Without Magic For One Date.” “What happened to your bird?”

    “What are you going on about?” Harry asked, wishing he had remembered to close the door after his last trip to the toilet.

    Dudley pointed a thick finger at Pigwidgeon, who hooted happily. “Why's he so small? You haven't been doing... that, have you? Cause you're not allowed to. I'll tell dad!”

    “Look, you prat,” Harry started, but Dudley had already left. Harry started to swear when he heard a tapping noise behind him. He whirled around to find the source of the noise, his hand instinctively going for his wand.

    And saw Amanda waving at him through his bedroom window.