A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of Montrose Magpies for QLFC Round 4.
Chaser 1 prompt: Write from a pet's perspective about mistreatment or abandonment (of pets or people).
Optional prompts: (location) Eeylops Owl Emporium; (plot point) receiving a pet as a gift; (restriction) no names
A random fact I came across when writing this: owls have no sense of smell.
Also for the Build A Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'white'.
Word count: 2540
Thank you so much to Emiliya Wolfe for betaing this.
For the first few years of her life, all the little barn owl knew was four walls, iron cages, endless screeching, and lesson after lesson aimed at teaching her and her siblings how to carry letters without dropping them. The humans who came in to train them weren't cruel, but they were never particularly nice, either. They just came in, taught the lessons, and left.
Even though she hated having to be on her best behaviour when they were there, she wished they would stay longer. The lessons weren't very interesting, but they were better than being locked in her cage like she was the rest of the time. The cages were so cramped that even she, the smallest of the lot, couldn't extend her wings fully. At least during their lessons, she was allowed to fly around the compound.
She longed to be free to fly wherever and whenever she wanted to. She'd learned about how to get to places all around the world, but it wasn't the same as actually doing it. When she was a working owl, she'd still have to follow a human's orders, but at least she'd be flying from place to place while doing it.
On her third birthday, she was packed up in her cage and carried through a fireplace with vivid green flames. Only one of her siblings came with her, and the pair screeched and clicked their tongues at one another in protest the whole way. When they came out the other side, they were in a room that was much smaller than the last one, but it was brighter and didn't have anywhere near as many cages.
There were already owls there — owls of all different ages and colours. They frightened her at first; she'd never met any full-grown owls that she wasn't related to before. But as time went on, she grew more comfortable around them.
She came to learn that the place she'd been brought to was called the emporium. It was different to the room she'd come from, yet she was no happier there. Food was plentiful but tasteless. People came and went endlessly, bringing with them new sounds and sights — but instead of making things interesting, they just made her head hurt with their constant chatter and the way they rattled the cage with their hands to get her attention.
The owls who'd come from other breeders had a harder time adjusting than she did. It was through them that she realised that the conditions she'd been raised in weren't universal. At the time, she'd assumed that was the way it was for all owls. But when the others spoke about the places they'd come from, they described large, open spaces that stretched out beyond what the eye could see and kind humans that cared for them like a mother does a fledgling.
The little barn owl found it hard to even imagine what that would be like. How far could the eye see when there weren't walls and ceilings in the way? Were these 'meadows' double the size of the emporium? Triple? Quadruple? Even that seemed impossible.
How big was the world she'd learned so much about but never seen?
A few of the owls even had names. Her breeder hadn't given out any, and neither did the man who owned the emporium. That was something for their eventual owners to do, he'd said to one of the assistants one day. He was worried that they might get confused if he gave them one name and the person who bought them changed it.
She thought that was hogwash. Memorising routes between cities and towns that were no more than points on a map to her was surely harder than keeping track of two names. After all, he had a name that he used with the people who worked there and another that he used with the people who came in off the street, and it worked for him.
She suspected that he just didn't care enough to bother picking out and remembering them.
-x-
By the time she turned five, she'd grown used to people coming in, browsing the store, and taking an owl with them when they left. It was odd to see her friends leave one by one and to know she might never see them again, but she knew — well, hoped — that they were going to a better life.
They couldn't be going to worse, surely.
Over time, she'd begun to fear that no one would ever choose her. She was still the smallest and scruffiest of the lot. Even though the fledgling humans all cooed over her, they always ended up taking a different owl home. After all, the larger owls were sturdier and looked like they could fly further, which the full-grown humans insisted was more important than looks.
The day her life changed, not that she recognised it as such at the time, started off like any other day. Assistants came out back shortly after dawn to fetch the owls and set them up for display. A few of them spared them some kind words when the manager wasn't listening before hurrying off to attend to whatever it was that they did with the coins at the counter. Then, after a length of time that could have been minutes or hours, the first customer arrived.
Only this time, it wasn't a normal customer. The man looked… distinctive. Where most humans — most living creatures, really — had two matching eyes, one of his was unnaturally large and glassy and spun around every which way. That, combined with the scars that covered his face, gave the impression of a hardened predator seeking its latest prey. Every step his left leg took was accompanied by a dull thudding sound like wood against wood.
Feathers bristling, the little barn owl ducked, trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as she could. For once, she didn't want to be the one to be taken.
For a few moments, he stood there at the door, the strange not-quite-an-eye moving across every inch of the premises. The little barn owl got the impression that, somehow, his eyesight was even better than hers. Then, his expression flat and unimpressed, he strolled over to the wide-eyed assistant standing behind the counter and demanded to see the manager.
When the manager arrived, he seemed to recognise the man — or the sense of danger that radiated off him — because his irritated expression instantly morphed into one of concern before being replaced by an unnaturally broad smile. "The war hero himself! It is an honour to have you here, sir. What might you be looking for today? I would be delighted to show you our range of — "
"Stop with that boot-licking nonsense," the man barked out, the words coming out with a growl-like quality. "I'm here on Auror business. We got a report that your owls are being abused."
The little barn owl didn't know what the word 'abused' meant, but judging from the way his face fell, the manager knew exactly what this odd man was talking about.
"This is completely unwarranted. I assure you that we treat all of our owls with the utmost care and — "
"Then you won't mind me having a look around. This all of them?"
"N-No. There are more out back."
"Good. It might be worth shutting shop for the morning. I'm sure you won't want anyone to catch wind of this, even if it's as unwarranted as you claim it is. A poorly timed rumour can be as damaging as the truth, after all." The man flashed him a smile that was more teeth than warmth.
Over the course of the next hour, the man with the mismatched eyes scoured every inch of the shop. He examined all of the owls in turn, making comments on them on occasion and clicking his tongue disapprovingly. When he reached her, the little barn owl was so scared that she wanted to disappear, but he just looked at her before moving on again.
When he was finished out the front of the shop, he went out the back, where he spent even longer. That was, if anything, worse. The only thing more terrifying than a predator on the prowl was one that was hiding just out of sight, ready to pounce at any moment.
The whole time he was looking, the little barn owl still half-expected that he would be taking one of them with him when he left. Her only hope was that, given how little time he'd spent with her, it wouldn't be her.
But when he was finished, the oddest thing happened. He turned to the assistant, who had been waiting with the owls during the search, and said, "You can take care of them by yourself for an hour or two, I assume?"
"Yes," the assistant said, even less talkative than she usually was.
The manager's heart was beating faster than was healthy for humans. It was like prey the instant it realised there was no escape from its fate.
Not that the little barn owl understood what this fate was or why it had chosen today of all days to come.
"Good. Someone will be by shortly to take the owls somewhere until something more permanent is sorted out."
"Something more permanent?" the manager spluttered.
"Yes. You see, your emporium is in violation of at least thirteen property, business, and animal welfare laws, so I'm afraid you won't be back here for a good long while."
And then, instead of choosing one of the owls to take with him, he conjured ropes out of thin air, wrapped them around the manager, and took him instead!
-x-
The time the little barn owl spent away from the emporium was eye-opening. They were all taken to a farm, and while they weren't allowed to go outside, the building they were in had glass walls and was bigger than anywhere she'd ever been before. Better still, there were no cages, so she was able to fly around at will inside the spacious area. Underneath the endless blue sky with fluffy white clouds that she just longed to try to get lost in, it was almost as if she was truly outside.
When it was time to return to the emporium, she was devastated, knowing that she would lose all of the freedom she'd only just acquired.
But her fears were unfounded. There was a new manager now — a kind man with a soft voice and gentle hands. He expected them to behave when they had customers, but he allowed them to frolic outside of business hours — encouraged it, even.
The shop was still small, but the cages were bigger, and the owls never had to stay in them for longer than two hours at a time. During the nights, they were free to roam the back room as they wished. And the food was no longer dry and tasteless. Instead, it was interesting and varied.
For the first time, she learnt the joy of eating and of being cared for by a human who was concerned with more than just circular pieces of metal.
-x-
It was a few years later that her life changed again — except this time, there was no mistaking it when it happened. The little barn owl — although she didn't look so small now that she was one of the oldest in the emporium — didn't think much of it when the bell rang to herald the arrival of a man accompanied by a young girl with shining blue eyes. The comings and goings of humans was such a normal part of her day that it barely even registered anymore. She'd resigned herself to the idea that she might never leave the shop, taking comfort in the fact that things weren't as stifling under the new owner.
"I don't think I've ever seen so many owls in one place before," the man said, gazing around in awe.
"You should see the Great Hall in the mornings. They all fly in at the same time, and it's magnificent."
He laughed, the sound hearty and warm. "I would love to, honey, but you know I can't go. You're just going to have to do the seeing for the both of us."
"I'll be your eyes and ears," she promised.
"I'm sure you will," he said, amusement still colouring his voice.
One of the assistants, a young boy who always had small strands of dog fur stuck to his clothes, came out from the back of the shop and made a beeline for the two newcomers. Grinning so broadly that it looked unnatural, he ran through the standard greeting that all of the assistants seemed to have memorised, ending with: "How may I help you today?"
The man turned to the girl, who said clearly, "I'm looking for an owl. It's an early birthday present from my parents since I'll be away at school on my actual birthday."
"Oh? How old will you be?"
"Thirteen."
"Wow. Well, for such a special age, you'll want a special owl, and we have the best. Over here, we have our selection of snowy owls. They come from the best breeding stock in the world. As you can see, their coats — "
"What about that one?" The girl raised her hand and pointed across the room.
Straight at the little barn owl.
"She's very pretty," the man said. "She's a she, right?"
The assistant faltered, his smile slipping for an instant before he caught himself.
The little barn owl didn't blame him. Now that she was no longer the baby of the group, it was rare for her to be noticed.
"Yes, she's a she. And she's a very good she at that. She comes from a long line of very fine owls, and — "
The man listened, nodding along politely, but the girl's gaze was fixed on the owl's as she moved towards the cage. When she reached it, she stretched her fingers through the bars. "You're beautiful," she said.
Ruffling her feathers, the little barn owl leaned forward to give her a gentle peck.
The moment she did it, she regretted it. For the first time in a long time, she'd attracted someone's attention, and it seemed like the girl's father might actually approve — and she'd had to go and ruin it with a move like that.
But instead of crying out or reeling back or storming out, the girl just laughed. The sound was happy and uninhibited, and mirth made her eyes shine even brighter than before.
More than she'd ever wanted anything, the little barn owl wanted to go home with this girl.
"This is the one," the girl called out over her shoulder.
"Are you sure?" the man asked. "You've barely even looked at any of the others."
"I'm sure."
"Well, that was quick."
The little barn owl disagreed. It might have been quick for the girl and her father, but she'd been waiting forever for this moment.
Now, it was time for her life to truly begin.
A/N: The girl at the end was originally going to be a canon character, but no one quite fitted in with the timeline, so she's an OC instead.