Wascally Part Four

[dysonrules]

Part Four

As luck would have it, Draco ran straight into Granger and the Weasel in the library.  Of course, the bushy-haired Gryffindor seldom left the library, so it was seldom possible to avoid her presence on any random trip there.  Apparently Potter had escaped the need to study, most likely by hobnobbing with Dumbledore, heroically destroying some wayward evil, or granting an interview to the Daily Prophet.

 

All eyes fixed on Draco and he preened for a moment under the attention.  Luna Lovegood drifted over to peer at the bird.  Normally Draco avoided the insane Ravenclaw like the plague, but at the moment her odd eyes were lit up with admiration so he refrained from mentioning that her wardrobe resembled the cast off rags worn by house-elves.  “Do you have a new pet, Draco?”

 

“Not really.  It’s just a poor defenseless woodland creature I rescued from certain death.  I named him Harry because he’s quite stupid, very lucky, and should be dead.”

 

The bird chirped and Draco thought it sounded a bit annoyed.  He patted its head to shush it.  “Come along, Harry.”  He smirked at Potter’s little minions.  Granger had one claw attached to the Weasel’s arm and was hissing in his ear, no doubt talking the glaring redhead out of doing something stupid, like hexing Draco.  Harry made a forlorn cooing sound and Draco patted his head again.  “Don’t be afraid of the Gryffindors, Harry.  They act like rabid dogs, but they won’t actually eat you.”

 

He breezed by the gaping Gryffindors and into the forest of bookshelves.  An hour later, Harry was asleep on Draco’s shoulder with his head tucked under a wing, but he awakened when Draco sat back with a sigh.  “There.  I think I found what you are, Harry.  A Peace Dove.  Pure white with a black beak and black feet.  And beady black eyes, of course.”

 

Harry hopped down onto the book and tipped his head as if studying the photo of the identical white bird.  The avian creature in the picture flapped its wings and opened its beak soundlessly.  Harry chirped.

 

“It’s just a picture, you dolt.  Don’t worry; you can join your own kind as soon as you are well.  Did you know you are a magical bird?  Apparently your song can induce feelings of peace and goodwill in humans.”  Draco snorted.  “Potter should send you to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  You can sing and the Dark Lord will turn benevolent and good.”

 

The thought gave Draco a round or two of guffawing chuckles, but Harry seemed less than amused.  He chirped forlornly until Draco picked him up and deposited him back to his shoulder perch.

 

“No, Harry, I won’t let the Chosen One send you to the Dark Lord.  The freak would probably feed you to his giant snake.”  Draco frowned at the thought and gave the bird a gentle squeeze.  “I’ll protect you, Harry.  At least I know what you eat now.  Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some nice berries.  And no more chocolate.  Apparently it’s bad for birds.”

 

Harry gave a forlorn coo and Draco relented as he exited the library.  “Well… maybe a tiny bit.  You do seem to enjoy it.”

PART FIVE