The letter went:
Dear Hannah,
I am starting this letter Wednesday after you left, and I was pleased to hear you had made it back to New York safely, and while I regret your leaving us, I understand your uncertainty about your future at Hogwarts as well as your father’s concerns about your safety, and I think myself it is probably better for you to remain close to him. Of course there are no words that can make up for the terrible loss you have suffered, except to remind you that your mother remains just one victim of the great menace that threatens us all, and because of her death we must now be all the more dedicated to the fight against those responsible for her murder.
So far things have not changed much here at Hogwarts, except more people are withdrawing, though so far no more of our dormmates. It is very foolish of them, of course, since they are voluntarily leaving perhaps the safest place in Britain right now, though in the defense of one or two of them, it seems more their parents’ decision than theirs. Their parents wish to have their children within their sights, as if they have the abilities to protect them better than the likes of Albus Dumbledore. One girl, a Ravenclaw, so I would not expect this, but there you are, says she simply wants to spend as much time as possible with her family even if it makes her a little less safe, which is more understandable, and yet I do not think the situation so grim just yet. It is different for you, of course, since had you stayed here you and your father would have been on different continents.
I have discovered one of the better things of this year is Professor Burbage. I know now I was right to keep to Muggle Studies. We know what my parents think of it, and even David seems mystified, and asks me what use it is. I admit, I probably will not have much use for knowing the finer points of how Muggle telephones carry people’s voices back and forth (though how to use is them is another matter) or the differences between various kinds of Protestant Christians. But I think I finally know what it is about her we always agreed was different, but could never identify. She has an ability to look at the world unlike any I have seen from anyone, even, though it pains me to compare him unfavorably to anyone, Professor Dumbledore. She sees how large it is, how many people there are in it, and how much variety there is amoung them. She talks about Muggles who live in places like Asia and South America.
Not that we must be any less on our guard, of course. Justin and Alice especially worry for their parents. They fear their wealth and high rank might make them a more desirable target, if the Death Eaters wish to make a statement about viewing all Muggles as being equally low. They were sure to urge their parents to be more careful in their day to day lives before traveling to Hogwarts, but they know how precious little that is to do. The Muggle-borns too have a reason to not wish to remain at Hogwarts, and in their case it is sometimes a more legitimate one, though when Alice did not even join the DA last year, I do not know how much protection they could offer their parents even if they lived with them, especially if the Ministry was foolish enough to harass them, which they just might be.
We get much of our news from Susan. Even with her Great-Aunt recently murdered, she still has members of her family in high places, and she has received two letters today. One she said very angrily she did not want to talk about, and I fear her family, after having so many of their members murdered already, has now lost still more. But from the second she has told them the Ministry believes they know where the Lestranges and Carrows are, though the letter does not specify where, for obvious reasons.
I must cease for tonight; I have much homework. I will write more here tomorrow evening.
Thursday: Conni has withdrawn. She and her parents decided on it, I’m afraid, because of your mother’s murder, though she could not bring herself to tell us until today, when the paperwork was finished and her parents came to pick her up. Also I fear Eloise will be gone very soon; she has hinted at it, but not come out and said so yet. Conni had lunch with us one last time before saying goodbye. She said she and her family are thinking of leaving the country all together, selling the cauldron business they’ve had for centuries and going probably to Australia. She has promised to keep in touch, but I fear she will be fickle and forget. Susan is very angry. Megan has cried twice. Unfortunately, Wayne has latched onto the idea of going to Australia, at least for his parents. He does have to worry about the safety of his mother, of course.
He and the Halagards both seem to believe that even if You-Know-Who expands his reach all over Europe and possibly into Asia and/or Africa, and, as we now know well, has struck in North America, Australia will remain too far away. I suppose they might truly be safe for a few years at least, especially when I consider Professor Burbage’s talk about how big the world really is. But what happens if everyone runs away and no one stays to fight? Again, were Wayne and especially his parents to do so, it would be understandable. But the Halagards are as pure-blooded as my family, maybe even more. I’m afraid if they take this route I shall always feel disappointment in Conni, whom I thought much braver than this.
Friday: I meant to send this letter yesterday, but I was distracted by a fight in the common room. The second one this year; I cannot understand it. We ought to be more scrupulous about getting along with each other in a time like this, and it seems the younger students are instead less. I am not even certain what started it. It may have been one third year girl trying to copy the homework of another, or it might have been a fifth year boy trying to jinx a first one, or it might have been a dispute ongoing for several days involving someone’s boyfriend. Everyone tells me something different. By the time I got downstairs there were fifteen students involved, with all seven years represented amoung the fighters. One fourth year had to go to the Hospital Wing, and two more younger students were spared that only because Brian Rogerson was kind enough to take half an hour reversing the jinxes on them. Multiple bystanders were also hit, though thankfully nothing they could not take care of themselves.
I have given them all detention, of course, and Professor Sprout, I believe, could use some help in the greenhouses. I also spoke to all of them very strong of how wrong their behavior was, and I hope at least the younger ones will listen, but the older ones are another matter. There was one seventh-year, old Jack Mallinus, whose behavior had gotten even worse than it has been, and whom I only tried to speak to because it would have looked very bad had I not, even though I knew I was wasting my breath. None of the accounts hold him as primarily responsible for the affair, but I would not be surprised if I learned he was anyway.
But I actually am not sorry I was delayed in sending this letter, because since then I have received a letter from David containing news I beg you will take heed of and be prepared to respond to if need be. It seems some in the Ministry are talking about if it might become necessary to smuggle Muggle-borns and certain other wizards out of Great Britain. There has recently been two different attacks on two families in Heathrow Airport, and there is concern the Death Eaters are deliberately going after those trying to move out of their reach. I hope that will at least cause those like the Halagards to reconsider their foolish thoughts of flight, but of course we must acknowledge that escape from Britain may, under certain circumstances, become necessary for some.
It may also be difficult, while the Death Eaters are so watching, to just go to the coast, mount a broomstick, and fly any which way over the sea, especially if it is an entire family trying to do so. Portkeys may work, but the more alternatives we have, the better. I have been made aware that certain people in the Ministry are working on mapping out traditional if recently unused flying routes which travel from Northern Scotland, though Iceland, Greenland, and parts of Canada before terminating around Lake Ontario. To one that knows them well enough, they provide a better chance at evading Death Eaters than just flying off the coast would. Two of the routes terminate very near New York State Wizarding School, and it is likely refugees using them will come to your valley to seek food and aid. While whether or not they get it may not prove to be entirely within your control, I am sure you, Hannah, will do everything you can for them, and I also hope you will urge your new friends to do the same.
It will likely, however, be a few months before any refugees use them, especially, of course, with the evidence that the Death Eaters themselves used them recently. The Ministry is trying to determine which one they used, though this is an exceedingly difficult task. So you have that time to prepare, as does your school; if they have any prudence I am sure New York State’s staff is aware of this possibility.
So as to alert you to this as soon as possible, I will right this minute take this letter down to the Owlery. Please write back to me after getting it, and be sure to tell me if anything unusual or concerning has happened at New York State. Remember we are all thinking about you as much as you think of us. Justin, Alice, and David send their love, as do I, from,
Your most loyal friend,
Ernest Micus MacMillan
“Do you think the staff knows?” wondered Francesca, after Hannah had read the letter out loud to her.
“Of course they do,” said Hannah. “We saw it tonight, that they know things are going on outside the school. Maybe they even decided what they did because they think Death Eaters are using one of the routes, so they might end up near here.” The real question, she supposed, was if they were actually going to do anything to get ready. But she didn’t know what any students could do to get them to.
“Still,” said Fran, “I think we should have a talk with the others about what we could maybe do. Sappho could write to her commune. Yeah, a lot of people there don’t like Muggles, but I don’t think they mind Muggle-borns quite as much. Some of them might be willing to take refugees in. They’d be completely safe there.”
“What if they bring their parents?” That was another question that was bothering Hannah, about whether any effort would be made for people like the Finch-Fletchleys, for starters, and then, should they be evacuated, what would be done for them then. “We shouldn’t just say they probably won’t; what if they do?”
“Well, maybe we’d have to find somewhere else, then,” said Fran. “Still, at least the commune would have those that don’t. It’s worth talking to Sappho about, in any case.”
“All right then, we will.” It seemed a little odd to Hannah how Fran had seemed to be waiting for her to say that, as if the final decision was now to be hers in everything Britain-related as well as everything Defense Against the Dark Arts training-related.
But now Fran was turning away, saying “It’s time for my evening prayers,” which caused Hannah to look at the clock and think it was pretty early to be praying. She still had homework to do, and working while Fran was praying always made her feel awkward. But it didn’t feel right to ask her to do them another time either.
So as her roommate took her rosary out and knelt, Hannah took the letter and lay down facing the wall. She reread it another time. This time she focused on the news of her various friends, worrying about if indeed Susan had lost yet another member of her family, and if Conni and Wayne would both really go to what felt like the other side of the world from America and Britain both, and especially what might happen to Justin and Alice and her other Muggle-born friends and their families. How could all of them escape, even if some of them did?
Also pettier things, like how much trouble Ernie was likely to have as a Prefect; she bet everyone at Hogwarts was feeling a lot more restless than usual. She felt guilty for abandoning him then, though surely someone could appoint another girl Prefect, maybe one who would be better at it than she had been. She thought Susan might be. Or maybe if a lot of students dropped out, the staff would decide he didn't need the help, although Hannah thought that would be stupid of them.
Though it seemed Francesca had heard something, because she was still coming down and telling herself it had only been a dream when her roommate was hovering over her. This was hardly the first nightmare Hannah had suffered since her mother’s murder, and she wondered at how Francesca was always so quick to hurry over. “What was it this time?” she was asking.
“My father,” said Hannah, but as she tried to remember what had happened to him, she found the dream was already fading. All she could recall was his screaming her name and begging her for help.
“He should be all right,” Fran reminded her gently. “He’s a strong and capable wizard who’s on his guard, and we don’t even know that there are any Death Eaters on the continent at the moment.”
“I know,” Hannah sighed. Fran stepped back so she was able to get out of bed, and she went to the window and pushed aside the curtains. The now familiar sight of the morning fog soothed her.
“Do you expect your friend’s owl soon?” Fran asked, and Hannah shrugged. That Eldred had not come up to her dorm room the previous night made her think the poor bird had exhausted himself. He was probably going to be doing a lot more journeys to North America and back. She didn’t want to push him any more than necessary.
Still, she ought to get her letter off that day. In fact, when she turned away from the window, the first thing she went for was the letter she’d been working on since sending off her first letter to Ernie and Justin with the basic news that she’d gotten home and then enrolled in New York State. Idly she read the last section, which was now two days old:
Friday: I know you’re never happy to hear me say this, Ernie, but I wish I didn’t have so much work to do this weekend. Mr. Rivers, Mrs. Hemlock, and Miss Ferreira all want us to write two rolls of parchment, and remember American rolls are bigger than British rolls, plus Mr. Rivers gave us a second half-written, half-practical assignment, and I also have five different chapters from four different books to read. Some of it is still easy, but not all of it anymore. I wouldn’t mind, but the DA takes up so much time too. It’s not easy to be both a student and a teacher at the same time, and I’m starting to think Harry Potter’s ability to be is yet another amazing thing about him.
No new people saying they want to attend the meeting tomorrow, so right now I have 14 people who all say they might, and six where I’m really certain they will. Sappho is vouching for her two teammates, though one of them has said he can’t make it, without saying why. I’m hoping to get some word of who’s attending for sure at breakfast tomorrow. Three people did say they’d tell me then, but of course they still might not.
It had felt like a longer day had passed since then it should have. It was partly the DA meeting, and what had happened in the library before it, plus what Mr. Bobwhite had said at dinner that evening. But mostly it was because of Ernie’s letter. It was weird how the thought of what was going on over in Britain was constantly with her, but even when it was the cause of so much of what she was doing, it was still shoved to the back of her head most of the time. She was just so busy. She felt as if the events of weeks had happened to her from reading that letter.
That might have been why it took Hannah a little bit of time before she felt up to wetting her quill and writing Sunday: Sorry I didn’t write yesterday, but it was a day capped off by receiving your letter, which I spent the whole evening reading. She went on then, describing her encounter with the two boys in the library, how the class had gone, and the dinner announcement. After a moment’s hesitation, she also related her conversation with Berenice, and confided her fears that she herself was the cause of the school being in increased danger. I suppose if I was not to stay at Hogwarts then I have to go somewhere, she wrote, but I don’t like putting friends like Alfred in more danger than they already are. I guess I just have to work that much harder to teach them Defense Against the Dark Arts.
I will give this letter to Eldred after he’s rested a little, she finished up. Meanwhile, please know I am hoping every day for both of you as well as Alice and all our other friends to make it through safe and sound, and once this letter is gone I will be waiting anxiously for your next one.
Yours truly,
Hannah
Eldred arrived for the letter just before she and Fran went down for breakfast. As they watched him fly off with it, Fran said, “You should get an owl of your own. Why don’t you have one?”
“Maybe I should get one,” Hannah agreed. “It’s hard to get any animal across the ocean, but I originally took my cat to Hogwarts. He’s old and sickly now, can’t travel anymore. I just never thought of it. Maybe I’ll get one next summer.”
The letter was also the main subject on conversation at breakfast that morning. Alfred especially wanted to know all the details about what was going on in Britain, and the fates of all the people she spent the summers talking to him about. When she told them about what Ernie had written at the end of the letter about possible refugees, Sappho said, “That would set off a fierce war in my community about whether we should take anyone in or not, one that would go on for months and months, and meanwhile, anyone here already would have to go somewhere else. I don’t know how much use I can be, really.”
“But there’s a chance of success?” Hannah pressed.
“A chance, definitely,” she said. “I don’t know how big a one, but a chance.”
“It wouldn’t be bad, I think,” said Max, “having a few more people here. Any kids that came over could join us, though I suppose some of the higher and mightier Hogwarts students wouldn’t be impressed by our weak, backward curriculum.” He didn’t say it as sarcastically as he probably would’ve liked to.
“Anyone else up for a short walk before we tackle the homework we’ve been putting off until today?” Sappho asked.
“If it’s a walk rather than a fly,” laughed Alfred. Hannah found herself agreeing to come, too. Her head was still so full she couldn’t help but crave some exercise to clear it.
It was already much colder outside than it had been that first Saturday morning when she’d gone out to fly with Sappho, especially within the fog, which was very thick that day. In fact, when the mist made contact with her hands and cheeks, Hannah felt a sensation almost like sharp ice on her skin. It was more than she thought was natural, and so she asked, “Do any of you know if this fog has much magic in it?”
“At least a little, I think,” said Alfred. “Might depend upon the day, though.”
“I think there are ghosts in the fog,” said Sappho. “I’ve even heard stories about people hearing them. Maybe if we’re quiet enough, we will.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” said Alfred hastily. Hannah didn’t say so, but she definitely didn’t want to. Ghosts were too close to death to her, when she’d still put relatively little time between herself and the death of her mother.
The others probably didn’t either, because everyone kept on talking as they walked to keep the ghosts away. She started to feel better. The fog’s icy touch was something she could get used to, once she reminded herself she’d never heard of anyone getting hurt by this fog, so it was probably harmless.
It did make it hard to keep very good track of where they were going, though, and when they suddenly found themselves facing trees, Max exclaimed, “We’ve walked all the way to the woods!”
“You want to go in?” asked Sappho.
Hannah’s first instinct was to say no, though that might have just been because after five years at Hogwarts, her automatic reaction to woods was to think they were dangerous. But once she remembered that wasn’t true for these woods, she was suddenly beset by a wild curiousity, wanting to know what was in them, besides students doing forbidden or unruly things anyway, and she found herself asking, “Are there any paths in?”
“There are several,” said Max. “And if I’m right, we might not be far from one of them. This way.”
Max was right; ten minutes later they were at the foot of one. By then the fog was showing signs of lifting too, and they could easily see what was immediately in front of them. There seemed no real reason not to go in.
There were now more leaves on the ground than on most of the trees, and they crunched under their feet. If anyone was in these woods, Hannah thought, they would be the ones in control as to whether they met with the group or not, unless they too were this loud. She didn’t mind that, though, especially since she thought they would decide not to. They didn’t bother keep their voices down either, Max happily telling the tale of the first time he had snuck off into the woods when he’d been thirteen, and absolutely nothing interesting had happened, but everyone he had told about it had been jealous anyway.
“You do not want to know how many times he bragged about it when we first became roommates,” said Alfred. “Never mind that by then it wasn’t really a very impressive story anymore; we were too old for that.”
“By the normal definition of impressive, I assume,” said Francesca.
“Oh please,” said Max. “Let me guess, first time in the woods for the good Catholic girl.”
“First time…in a few years,” she grinned at him. “I snuck in here once during my first year. Me and three other girls. Like with you, nothing happened. Except we had a big leaf fight.”
Alfred was laughing at this exchange, and Hannah was listening to him laugh, and because of that she almost missed the whinny. But she thought she heard it behind them, and instantly crazy thoughts filled her head, a fear that somehow someone had come here and waited for them to go into the woods where their bodies would be hard to find, and without thinking she whipped out her wand and stopped walking.
The panic faded after a moment, and then there were just her classmates looking at her funny. “Hannah,” said Francesca, “are you all right?”
She listened behind them; no sound of footsteps. “It’s nothing,” she said. “But I could’ve sworn I heard a whinny behind us.”
“You know, I think I did, too,” said Fran. “Though it sounded…not like most flying horses.”
“You think maybe it’s a unicorn?” asked Sappho, sounding excited. “I’ve heard they’ve been seen in here sometimes. More often, in recent years. It’s thought a lot of the Northeastern North American population has converged here.”
“Who’d you hear that from?” asked Max. “You know if it was from that roommate of yours?”
“Not her,” said Sappho. “More than one person, and from my very first year here.”
“I’ve heard it too,” said Fran. “It’s a story all the girls like to tell. I still wouldn’t assume it’s true.”
“Worth looking,” said Alfred. “Where’d you first hear it from?”
“In an early Care of Magical Creatures class. One of the students asked the teacher if it was true there were unicorns in the woods, and she said there might be, and some people had even claimed to see them, but there was no absolute confirmation.”
“You shouldn’t photograph a unicorn,” said Sappho. “It causes them to get weak.”
“No, that’s not true,” said Hannah. She might not have been in Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts, but apparently both Professor Grubby-Plank and Hagrid had been asked about that, and both had said it wasn’t.
“Yes, it is!” snapped Sappho. “We’ve sometimes seen unicorns in the valley at home, but none of us ever even draw them.”
“Oh, that’s just silly.” Max nearly laughed.
“No, it’s not!” Sappho was really getting upset. “What would any of you know? Have any of you even seen a unicorn, outside that one time they brought that mare and her injured foal here two years ago, the pair they wouldn’t let us see except from a distance?”
“They don’t bring any unicorns into Care of Magical Creatures?” Hannah asked, surprised. “They did that at Hogwarts.”
Max shook his head. “I’m afraid here we only handle smaller animals. I don’t know if they’d even have anywhere to keep them. They had to set up a special pen for the mare and foal.”
“What do you tend to work with?” Hannah asked, and that got her a flurry of answers, as she started to hear about clabberts and jobbernolls, jarveys and fire crabs. “We got to see a snidget once,” said Fran. “Everyone got very excited about it.”
“And then most of us didn’t get more than a split second’s look, really,” said Max, “before it went and flew off really fast, and hid somewhere in the greenhouse. I heard it took Mrs. Hemlock two weeks to finally get it out.”
“Hey,” said Alfred, “do you think maybe we could go back? It’s just we’ve been out here for a while, and we all have a lot to do.” Hannah honestly couldn’t tell if he was also feeling a little scared or not.
But Max had an expression that made it clear he was going to demand to know if he was, and right then, she didn’t want to hear it. “I agree with that,” she said. “I’ve got more to do than the rest of you.”
Which, of course, caused Max to instead laugh and say, “Spoken like a true girlfriend right there.”
From him, she could let it pass. “Look,” she started, but then there was the whinny again, and this time she was sure she’d heard it. “There!” she whirled around. “It’s over there somewhere!”
For a moment she feared her companions’ reactions, but then Francesca said, “I think you’re right,” and a moment after that they were all hurrying the way she’d pointed.
It must have been going too fast, though, maybe startled by their large party crashing through the forest. There were no more whinnies, no glimpses of anything, and before they knew it they’d cleared the trees and were back in the fields surrounding the school. The fog had lifted a bit, and they could see the building from where they were standing. At least that made getting back pretty easy.
As they all exchanged looks, Sappho said, “We should go back in without the boys. If there was a unicorn there, she’s more likely to show up if she doesn’t have to deal with you two.”
That resulted in loud protests from both boys, which definitely would have scared off the unicorn even if it had lingered, hidden, in the area. When Hannah made that observation out loud, Alfred gave her a look like he’d betrayed her, and Fran just sighed, “Let’s go in.”
So they did, but as they walked back, Hannah secretly thought she might go back completely by herself. Not that she even thought there was anything wrong with the other two girls. Heck, she was dead certain Francesca was a virgin at least. But somehow she thought maybe it wanted to see her especially, and maybe it would be less scared if she was alone. It felt worth it, for a chance to meet with a unicorn in the woods like that.