Innocent, but not naive.
The days at Hogwarts passed in a whirlwind of new faces, classes, and the constant undercurrent of curiosity from his peers. Harry was settling into his routine, but there was a strange tug in his chest—a quiet yearning for the presence of the being that had raised him in the shadows of the woods.
Late one evening, after dinner, Harry slipped away from the common room and made his way to the Owlery. He wasn’t entirely sure how to do this, but he had overheard enough from Hermione and the others to understand that the school owls could deliver messages anywhere.
He perched on a wooden bench, gazing up at the hundreds of sleeping owls nestled along the beams. The cool night air whistled through the open windows, ruffling his hair. In his lap rested a carefully folded piece of parchment.
"How do you even write to something that doesn't read?" Harry thought, but it hadn’t stopped him from trying.
The letter was simple, written with a child's earnestness but carrying a depth far beyond his years.
Dear Guardian,
I hope you're well.
Hogwarts is… big. Really big. Lots of people. Too many people, maybe. But it’s not bad. There’s food here I don’t have to cook, and everyone seems to like the same kinds of meals. I’m getting used to being around humans again.
I miss the woods, though. The quiet. The way everything had its place. It’s noisy here. But I’m learning magic! Real magic. I think you'd like it—it’s about patterns, understanding, and control.
I’ll visit during the holidays like I promised. I hope you’re not too lonely without me there.
P.S. Don’t forget to eat. I left some extra preserves in the pantry.
Harry
Harry folded the letter carefully and tied it to the leg of a patient-looking barn owl. “Take this to the woods,” he whispered, as if the bird could somehow understand his intention. “To the guardian. Just… the woods. It’ll find you.”
The owl blinked at him, cocked its head, then took off into the night. Harry watched until it disappeared into the horizon, his heart feeling both heavy and light at the same time.
The owl arrived just as the moon reached its zenith, its wings silent as it glided into the clearing. The guardian—a hulking, shadowed presence that seemed to ripple with the fabric of the dark—tilted its head toward the bird. It did not move, yet the owl hesitated only briefly before dropping the letter onto the mossy ground.
The parchment unfolded itself, as if guided by unseen hands. The guardian did not read, for it had no need. It simply… understood.
For a moment, the woods were still. Then the guardian’s form shifted slightly, a sound reverberating through the trees—a low, resonant hum, almost like approval. The letter folded itself back into its original shape, vanishing into the shadows.
The guardian turned its gaze back toward the stars, as if in thought, before settling back into its silent vigil.
Back at Hogwarts, Harry returned to the common room feeling lighter. He didn’t know if his letter would truly reach the monster, but in his heart, he believed it had.
For the first time in days, he slept soundly, dreaming of the woods, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the protective presence that had always been there for him.