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A shadow fell over Harry’s breakfast platter – which was the only warning their part of the 8th year table received before an owl deposited a small birdcage right in their midst. The cage almost toppled into Harry’s bacon and eggs when Harry saved both plate and cage just in time. Thank you, Quidditch reflexes!
Confused, he looked at the delivery in front of him. A tiny snowy owl stared back at him, just as puzzled.
“Oh, did you order an owl, Harry?” Hermione asked excitedly. She had been nagging Harry to get a new pet for months. “Where did you find it? We could have chosen one together at Hogsmeade.”
“Wicked, mate,” Ron said. “It’s almost as small as Pig! I hope they become fast friends and he can finally move into the owlery. Kept my roommate and me up again all night.”
“Oh, Ronald! What are silencing charms for?”
“I know what they’re for, Mione!”
Harry was only listening to his friends’ bickering with half an ear. When they got into one of their arguments, the world faded away, and they only had eyes (and vocal cords) for each other. Come to think of it, they weren’t that much different when they were in one of their lovey-dovey phases either...
Harry didn’t begrudge them their happiness and definitely not their relationship dynamics, but being the third wheel became a bit much sometimes.
The owl leaned its head to one side as if to ask: “Now what?” If only Harry knew. He picked up the cage in search of a note. And yes, one was stuck to the underside of it. He peeled the note off and opened it.
It had no greeting or signature, but he would recognize the meticulous handwriting anywhere.
I doubt your best friends realize that you’re hiding behind a mask of positivity and cheerfulness. They might be too distracted by each other. Honestly, their relationship seems to only exist in two states: They’re either madly in love or madly in stubbornness. I don’t really understand what they see in each other, but then it’s not me who has to date a know-it-all or a ginger git…
Or, maybe they don’t want to see that you’re hiding your pain, and they’re desperately clinging to the illusion of being “normal” students for once. Who am I to blame them? Wouldn’t it be nice to be “normal”?
Anyway, I digress.
This little rascal here is called Hope. She was dropped off at the owl sanctuary with a broken wing six weeks ago. I’ve been looking after her during my community service there, and she’s all healed now. But she hasn’t shown any inclination of wanting to fly again. The sanctuary put her up for adoption once she was well, but no one wanted an owl who can’t (or won’t) fly.
But she’s wonderful! She’s been a companion on my tasks at the sanctuary from her vantage point on my shoulder for the last four weeks. Happily hooting here and there. Not minding that she would only go where I would go. When she got bored, she would just hop down my arm or pull my hair to make it known that she was in need of attention right now.
The sanctuary didn’t really know what to do with her. They weren’t happy with the fact that this owl didn’t “serve any purpose,” and I was worried what this would mean for Hope’s future. So I adopted her… for you. I thought, well, I don’t really know how to express what I thought…
I thought, no, I know that a pet doesn’t need to fulfill a purpose.
A companion doesn’t need to fulfill a purpose.
And a person doesn’t need to fulfill a purpose either to be worthy of someone’s time.
I just wanted you to know that.
Harry had to set the unfinished note down and take a few deep breaths. He knew that, objectively speaking. Of course, he knew all that. But Malfoy was right. It bore repeating because while Harry knew it to be true for other people and animals alike (he was outraged on Hope’s behalf), Harry didn’t really apply the same logic to himself. What was his purpose in life now that Voldemort had truly been defeated? Who would want him now that all everybody could see was the war hero and the countless ways to profit from his name?
Harry looked towards the other end of the 8th year table where the returning Slytherins were enjoying their breakfast. Malfoy, no, Draco was looking right back at him intently.
That’s right, he was Draco now. They had been sharing a dorm room since their return to Hogwarts four months ago. Of course, everybody had been shocked when they’d seen who would room with whom, inter-house unity and all that. But Harry could not have asked for a better roommate (sorry, Ron!). Draco was polite, tidied up after himself and left Harry alone. On top of that, Draco wasn’t around much due to his community service and the many hours spent studying at the library.
But apparently Draco had seen enough in the little time they spent together as the end of the letter proved.
Some wounds run deeper than others, and just because they aren’t visible, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
If you aren’t ready for a pet, a snowy owl at that, I completely understand. I can take care of Hope, and you can spend time with her if and when you like. Your choice.
I am optimistic that Hope will show you that true worth has nothing to do with the value and purpose other people assign to us. And I also hope that in time, she can give you your smile back. The one that comes from the heart and reaches your eyes.
Harry put the letter down, and looked at Hope. He slowly put his index finger between the thin bars of the birdcage. The owlet bumped his fingertip curiously with her beak. And while she started nibbling on Harry’s finger playfully when he bumped her back, Harry looked back up at Draco and gave him a small tentative quirk of his lips and a nod of acknowledgement, which Draco returned.
The path to healing and to figuring out what Harry wanted to do with his life might be long and bumpy. But he knew now that he wouldn’t walk it alone.
He had Hope and he had Draco.