Love On Risky Ground

The early morning brightness penetrated Harry's eyelids. He felt very cold and his fingertips felt almost numb. The wind blew a little stronger, undulating over his baggy, wet clothes, sending a wave of shivers through his body.

He pulled his eyes open, wondering for a moment where he was. Harry looked around, dazed and confused. A thick green canopy filled his vision from above and he slowly recognised it was a tree. The leaves swayed turbulently, and he heard a deep creaking sound when the dense trunk rocked a little. Raindrops splattered onto his face and he cringed as the droplets sent another ripple of coldness through him. He wiped the water away and propped himself up with the aid of his elbows, running his fingers through his drenched hair. Harry sighed as he brushed off the little bits of grass and soil which had been pressed onto his arms and head while asleep in the backyard.

For a moment or two, Harry was confused as to why he had been sleeping under the tree. A flood of grief overwhelmed him suddenly, as he locked eyes on the small grave next to him, though he wasn't going to cry this time. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trapping the tears.

Rain began to fall once again from the grey and unwelcoming sky. He staggered, trying to get up. He felt strangely unbalanced. However, Harry stopped himself from falling by hastily grabbing a hold of the tree trunk.

He saw a wet letter on the ground, covered by grains of soil. Hedwig meant to bring it to him, but the whole tragedy had taken place instead. Harry picked it up, the parchment wrinkled and curled where mud stained the front, and blue ink ran down where Hermione had written his name.

Harry opened the letter with shaking fingers. Hermione had written that she would get him some treacle when she did her shopping, and that the next time Hedwig showed up, she'd send the jar.

"Hedwig's gone," he whispered and he ripped the letter apart, tearing it slowly and throwing the pieces onto Hedwig's grave. Harry took one last glance at the miserable looking mound where his owl lay hidden forever, and headed towards the house, feeling lost.

He entered the kitchen, forgetting about anyone else existing in the house when he saw Dudley, who was sitting down at the table after making his own breakfast for once.

Harry stared at him, while Dudley intentionally avoided his cousin's eyes and focused on his food instead. Harry was scared to open his mouth to say something. He bit his lip, afraid that harsh words would come out due to Hedwig's death.

"Er... are you going to have breakfast?" Dudley croaked from the table, breaking the sombre air. He dished a spoonful of cereal and popped it into his mouth, timidly avoiding Harry eyes.

Harry shook his head, not in the mood to talk as anger sizzled in his veins. He was sure that his cousin was smoothing over Hedwig's death like she had never existed. Though, he noticed that Dudley's voice trembled a little. It was a small hint of guilt for what he had done.

Dudley tapped his spoon on the bottom of the bowl. His mouth opened and the words hung, tethered, at his lips, but he couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted. Harry could almost sense his cousin's train of thought. Knowing his cousin well, he knew it was not like Dudley to apologise. It was embarrassing for him to say sorry for anything! It was almost absurd for Dudley that he had to say sorry for a pet that meant nothing to him and it infuriated Harry. After all, Hedwig was just an animal to Dudley, nothing more.

But Harry looked on... waiting with little patience for the regret he wanted his cousin to feel, wanting to know that Dudley was a human being and not some lifeless, cold hearted beast. He knew he was feeling it, but Harry wanted to hear him say his sorrow.

"Have you ever had anyone or anything you loved die, Dudley?" Harry asked, staring at Dudley menacingly. His cousin shook his head slowly.

"Well, I've had three people taken away from me whom I loved and cared for deeply and now my owl is dead. You should see what it's like for a person to die right in front of your very eyes. To drop like a sack of potatoes - life gone - and the look of terror imprinted on their face..." Harry hissed, his hands quivering with stress. "Not only that, but to be an inch from death yourself-- again and again... The fear you feel just looking death itself in the face would be enough for you to piss your pants, Dudley."

Harry was feeling anger as much anger as when he had cursed Bellatrix. He could feel the magic within him itching to burst out and cause chaos throughout the house again. He took a deep breath to calm down so that the magic wouldn't be released.

Dudley closed his eyes. "I'm... I'm," Dudley managed to stammer out, staring with little attention at his soggy cereal.

"You're what?" Harry bitterly replied.

"I'm sorry," Dudley finally said looking into Harry's eyes with remorse. He really was sorry for the first time in his life. But Harry wasn't sure if the experience would change him for the better.

"You should be! Hedwig was a pet and I loved her. She was a life you stole," he said, his voice calm and steady.

"I really am sorry," Dudley pleaded, his voice a little louder, getting angry.

"Good!" Harry replied softly, sighing, taking the apology into account. Anger and revenge weren't going to help anybody, especially himself. "I hope you always remember what you did." He ended the conversation, walking past his cousin.

Harry felt much more relaxed and peaceful once he had a long warm shower and fell onto his bed. He wasn't in the mood to do any of the chores his aunt had laid out for him. He was content with just lying down on his bed, watching the cloudy sky outside his window. He calmed his mind, and imagined the happiness he might never have: like living with Sirius and Voldemort defeated.

Lying spread-eagled, he sighed, shaking the thought out of his head. The next thing he knew he had fallen asleep. He woke in a sweat and turned over, pulling the sheets over his body, gazing at the wall as the shadows slowly progressed over his room.

"Harry," Dudley called from behind him.

He spun around, his sheets spiralling around him as he turned. "What?"

"I'm going go to the supermarket to get some more food. We've run out and ... er, I'll call someone to fix up the windows," he said.

Harry only shrugged him away, returning to his side and curling up comfortably, watching the sad clouds pass by. He suddenly wondered why he hadn't received a letter from the Ministry for his uncontrolled magic, and thought they had probably smoothed over the whole affair.

***

The day was bright and sunny, but not for Harry. He had diligently read the Daily Prophet for anything on Voldemort. There still wasn't any reports of Dark Marks appearing in the air or any wizards vanishing in suspicious circumstances, but he knew it was a matter of days or weeks before Voldemort would start his next course of destruction. Harry sensed the Dark Lord was keeping quiet because of his attack in the Ministry, which ended in his failure to procure the prophecy and ending Harry's life. The only thing in the paper about Voldemort was the Ministry issuing precautions and reminding people of vigilance, plus updating their daily reports on the situation. Not only feeling dispirited about the war, but Harry also was getting a cold. He rubbed his aching eyes when he heard his cousin.

"Harry," Dudley yelled from downstairs. "The television's not working. Go check it out."

Ignoring his cousin's whingeing, he shook his hand rapidly, gripping a thermometer firmly. He hoped he didn't have a fever, but his forehead was hot and his throat was sore. He gently slipped the thermometer into his mouth, its cool glass feeling pleasant in the warm weather. Harry closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, waiting for the thermometer to take effect as he sat alone in the bathroom.

A few days had passed since Hedwig's death and it was still fresh in Harry's mind. She had been so unique, so loving and respectful. Harry couldn't bear the thought of getting another owl. He decided he wouldn't get another one. Although, he had a suspicious feeling that if Hedwig could've talked, she would have wanted him to have another owl companion.

He blinked several times before moving the thermometer up to his nose, trying to read the tiny numerals and decide where the mercury sat. But the glass and metallic reflections caused havoc to his eyes.

"Damn!" Harry huffed.

Dudley walked in and snatched the thermometer out of his hands. Dudley looked at it, chewing on bubblegum (with which he was threatening to blow a large blue bubble). He poked his tongue out, which was masked by a layer of gum, and blew it annoyingly in front of his cousin's face. Harry was almost tempted to stick his thin finger out and pop it as it steadily grew larger.

Sucking in the air from the bubble until it wrinkled at his mouth, Dudley looked at him. "Hmm, thirty-eight degrees, cousin. Getting a fever? It's not like anybody cares anyway," Dudley remarked unkindly.

"Great... can you get out now?" Harry snarled. Once Dudley left, he slammed the door shut and tried to flatten his hair.

Harry thought Dudley had improved his ways around him, but he was sadly mistaken. After feeling remorse for killing Hedwig for a short period, Dudley returned to his normal self; reverting into the same old bully Harry had despised growing up with.

"Fix the TV," Dudley wailed.

Harry rolled his eyes. If only all the rooms were soundproofed from every one of the Dursleys voices, he would be happy. He washed the thermometer and placed it in the cabinet, knowing that he was coming down with the flu. Harry knew the progressing order of symptoms: First he would get a sore throat, then the high temperature, then his nose would get runny and blocked. Soon after that, the whole coughing spat would begin. He cursed himself. He should have gone inside when it rained that day. But having seen Hedwig dying there on the ground, the grief had taken over.

Harry slowly strode into the living room, where his cousin was struggling to fix the antenna of the TV into the right position so less static interfered with his favourite television program. He barely glanced up as he entered.

"Fix it."

"What do you want me to do?" Harry looked on in shock, his hands flaying out as Dudley resorted to kicking the television several times, thinking that would somehow fix the problem.

Dudley became frustrated with the television ... and Harry. "I'm going outside. Maybe there's something wrong with the antenna," Dudley huffed.

"Why don't you do that?" Harry sarcastically retorted. Normal logic seemed to escape Dudley for long periods of time.

Harry switched the television off because the static bored into his ears. He turned his head towards the doorway after hearing his cousin's pounding steps walk across the hallway.

"You better come and look at this," Dudley said, his brows tightly knitted.

Harry stared bemusedly. What on earth is going on? He thought as he trotted into the sunlit backyard.

Dudley pointed to the roof and there Harry's mouth dropped in shock, but a fit of laughter quickly overcame him. A good laugh, the likes of which he had not had in weeks. Dudley shook his head, looking over the neighbour's fence, hoping that no one was watching.

"Errol," Harry shouted. His hand shielding the sun from his eyes as he looked up at the antenna on the terracotta tiled roof. The owl screeched at him, irked at his present situation.

The owl had gotten himself tangled up in the antenna somehow. His wings were spread over and under the metal beams, and his legs flayed in all directions, a letter still in his gripping claws.

"Why can't you freaks post mail the normal way?" Dudley asked, crossing his arms.

"Shut up Dudley," Harry replied with a searing side-glance at his cousin. He stood wondering how to get the bird out of the antenna safely. The last thing they both needed was the death of another owl, in whatever circumstances.

"Errol," Harry yelled, agitation growing within him as he looked on.

"Whatever happens, I'm not going on the roof to get him off," Dudley frantically said, looking from the owl to Harry.

Harry sighed and stared at his cousin. "Don't worry, Dudley... you won't have to go save him. After all, what would your parents say when they come home in a couple of days and find the roof caved in?"

Dudley narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips until the blood was drained from his mouth. "I'd say you did it! They're expecting you to make a disaster, anyway."

Harry was about to retort, when a loud screech from Errol heralded them to divert their attention. There was no way Errol could come down himself; it was becoming apparent that the frail owl was not going to get out of this trouble on his own. Harry was running out of options to get the owl down without going onto the roof himself.

Then he gave up. "Er..." He scratched his head, "I'll go get the ladder." It was the last thing he wanted to do, but someone had to do it.

"And I'll watch," Dudley replied airily, thinking it would be great entertainment for him to watch Harry rescue the owl, while at the same time risking his life.

He retrieved the ladder and with all the strength he could muster pulled the metal ladder towards the house. He lifted it up, after stretching it out to full length and leaned it against the wall. Dudley lazily watched him without lifting a finger to help.

Harry took a deep breath, grasping the railing of the ladder firmly with both hands, and started to climb the steps. Each step he took caused a surge to ripple through the strong, but flexible metal. It kind of worried him that he might fall off.

"Dudley... hold the bloody ladder, will you!" he shouted, halfway up. He looked down, seeing Dudley from head down. For once in Harry's life Dudley listened to him, and he held on tight, giving the ladder added strength; and to Harry, more confidence to climb up to Errol's aid.

Errol stopped screeching when he lifted himself onto the roof carefully. The owl looked at him with weary eyes, trying to keep still. Treading carefully on the tiles, Harry extended his arms and walked forward to the antenna. It felt good being on the roof, seeing everything in a bird's eye view. His black hair danced in the wind as he tried to keep his balance. It was a comfortable atmosphere for him and he couldn't help but think that there was something missing... and he realised that it was his Firebolt. He smiled, risking a fleeting moment to gaze at the smoky view of London in the horizon, dwarfed by the suburban houses.

At last he touched the television antenna and slowly helped Errol out of his entanglement. The sun's sinister heat burned his back, raising his fever. When Errol was freed, Harry watched him fly off into his bedroom, where the owl could recover from his hazardous flight. Harry was about to move when he wobbled on the spot, closing his eyes for an instant, feeling light-headed.

"Woah," he said, reaching his hand out and catching hold of the antenna. He breathed in deeply, trying to regain his composure before moving again.

"Are you all right?" Dudley yelled.

"Yeah, I'm - I'm coming down ... just hold on a sec."

Harry outstretched his hands once more, hearing his heart beating rapidly in his ears and feeling the hard pounding within his chest. He breathed deeply, hoping that the clouds would hide the sun, bringing cool relief as sweat trickled down the side of his face. He made a move, knowing that just one wrong step could mean that death would at last win control over his life.

This was different from Quidditch. Harry had none of the precise control of a broom. He only had his feet and his balance to control him

He moved towards the ladder slowly, then stopped as dizziness suddenly engulfed him. His senses slowed and his hearing quieted down until a buzzing sound matched the black void in his vision. He was left standing on the roof wondering if he would fall or not.

His answer came a moment later.

"Harry. HARRY!" Dudley yelled.

He opened his eyes with his cheeks stinging, realising that his cousin was slapping him awake. He squinted, pushing his cousin away from him somewhat sluggishly.

"Wha... what happened?" Harry spoke, pinching himself to make sure he hadn't died.

"You fell off the roof, freak. Geez, I thought you were dead." Dudley stood up.

Harry looked up. A white crack in his glasses obscured his view. He couldn't remember falling off the roof. He must have fainted and then fallen. He lay still on the ground, but he couldn't feel any pain in his body. So he began to move, getting up slowly, hoping nothing was broken.

A feeling of relief coursed through him when he checked himself. "I'm lucky. Nothing's broken," he said hopping up and dusting his clothes from the dirt he had scraped up. He wiped up some blood from his arm and the side of his head where he had some nasty cuts that weren't serious, but nowhere else had he injured himself.

"Well, Errol is safe and I'm still alive."

"Too bad," Dudley sighed.

Retreating into the house, he was glad to get away from the heat. Nauseated, Harry helped himself to some iced water. Feeling the coldness spread from his chest and beyond made him feel better.

Errol had fallen asleep near Hedwig's empty cage, his whole body taut and stretched out. The owl looked more like a corpse than a living animal. But Harry stopped thinking about it... Hedwig's death was looming back into his mind again.

There was also another owl at the window waiting to enter. He let the animal in and took the letter from the barn owl, before he prodded Errol's letter, lifting it out of Errol's resting clutches. Harry opened Ron's letter first.

Harry dropped the letter onto his desk and pulled out some parchment from his drawer.

He sat down and began to scribble with his eagle-feathered quill.

He put down his quill and relaxed in his chair, gazing out of the window, finally deciding not to get another owl. He coughed and a throbbing pain rippled from the side of his head, but Harry didn't think anything of it. He was lost in his thoughts about Hedwig.