Incredulous, disbelieving, she turned slowly again to the window. In spite of herself, a glimmer of hope began to blossom in her chest, growing rapidly as recognition fell upon her. It was Apollo, an owl of majestic golden feathers and glittering black eyes. The Malfoy owl, with a tiny slip of parchment knotted to his leg. He looked winded, as if he’d soared across the heavens in haste, stopping only when he reached the frosty glass of her bedroom window. His beak and claws—elegant, of course, worthy of the bird’s owner—continued to skitter across the nearly-frozen pane until she slid the window open.