Black and Potter | H. Potter

47 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆ beautiful mess.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

| BEAUTIFUL MESS |
song: end of beginning by djo.
TW: mentions of blood.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

I'VE JUST BEEN ATTACKED BY DEMENTORS AND I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

Harry copied these words into three separate pieces of parchment the moment he reached the desk in his dark bedroom. He addressed the first to Sirius, the second to Ron, and the third to Hermione.

It's fine, Nyx, I'm just glad you're okay. I want to know what's going on, you need to get me out of here, I know you of all people can understand.

This last letter was for Ara, and Harry had pondered on what to say for a moment, should he ask how she's doing? If she's angry? But he decided to keep it short, preferring to speak of these matters in person.

Hedwig was off hunting; her cage stood empty on the desk. Harry paced the bedroom waiting for her to come back, his head pounding, his brain too busy for sleep even though his eyes stung and itched with tiredness. His back ached from carrying Dudley home, and the two lumps on his head where the window and Dudley had hit him were throbbing painfully.

Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and frustration, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn sky every time he passed the window, his gaze lingering on a particular constellation. Dementors sent to get him, Mrs. Figg and Mundungus Fletcher tailing him in secret, finding out that Ara knew he was being followed all along, then suspension from Hogwarts and a hearing at the Ministry of Magic — and still no one was telling him what was going on.

And what, what, had that Howler been about? Whose voice had echoed so horribly, so menacingly, through the kitchen?

Why was he still trapped here without information? Why was everyone treating him like some naughty kid? Don't do any more magic, stay in the house. . . .

He kicked his school trunk as he passed it, but far from relieving his anger, he felt worse, as he now had a sharp pain in his toe to deal with in addition to the pain in the rest of his body.

The only one who hadn't made him feel like he had done something wrong was Ara, she'd even congratulated him for fighting the dementors, and she hadn't sounded disappointed at all. . . .

Just as he limped past the window, Hedwig soared through it with a soft rustle of wings like a small ghost.

"About time!" Harry snarled, as she landed lightly on top of her cage. "You can put that down, I've got work for you!"

Hedwig's large round amber eyes gazed reproachfully at him over the dead frog clamped in her beak.

"Come here," said Harry, picking up the three small rolls of parchment and a leather thong and tying the scrolls to her scaly leg. "Take these straight to Ara, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione and don't come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking Ron and Hermione, till they've written decent-length answers if you've got to. Understand?"

Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, beak still full of frogs.

"Get going, then," said Harry.

She took off immediately. The moment she'd gone, Harry threw himself down onto his bed without undressing and stared at the dark ceiling. In addition to every other miserable feeling, he now felt guilty that he'd been irritable with Hedwig; she was the only friend he had at number four, Privet Drive. But he'd make it up to her when she came back.