It was a strange thing indeed to see a snowy owl flying through the skies of London, in broad daylight nonetheless.

The morning sky was an indistinct mauve, dotted with clouds, and Colin's face was inquisitive as he pressed it up against the window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Mum!" he said, turning away from the window and tugging the sleeve of his mother's sweater. "Look, Mum! An owl!"

She nodded absently, offering her son a warm but detached smile before bustling towards the kitchen, muttering that her tea was nearly finished brewing.

Colin's lips pursed into a small frown, but a moment later the disappointment was forgotten as he realized that the owl was flying right towards him.

He leaned towards the window, so close his forehead was pressed against it and his breath fogged the glass as he watched the bird descend.

"Mum! I think the owl is coming towards us!" he marveled aloud.

There was no answer from the kitchen, and as the owl approached, Colin spent a moment fiddling with the locks on the window before it swung open, just in time for the owl to beat its wings as it swooped inside.

The bird gave a disinterested hoot as it deposited a letter onto the window ledge where Colin sat, sparing him one last haughty look before it spread its wings and took off once more.

"Dennis!" Colin said, deciding that perhaps his brother would be more interested than his mother had been. "The owl gave me a letter!"

He'd already ripped the envelope to shreds by the time his brother arrived, a look of exasperation on Dennis's face. "An owl," he deadpanned, "gave you a letter."

"It did!" Colin insisted indignantly. "Look, you can probably still see it flying away —"

He gestured towards the window, though as Dennis's skeptical gaze followed and did not change, Colin noticed upon further examination that the owl was already long gone.

All that remained was the same mauve sky, now accentuated by golden rays of sunlight weaving their way between the clouds.

A beautiful scene, but not a snowy owl in sight.

"Well, what does the letter say?" Dennis asked, peering at it over Colin's shoulder.

"I'm reading it, hold on," he replied.

Dear Mr. Colin Creevey,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress.

"Mum!"

Colin held the wand between his fingers as though it was made of glass, walking at a snail's pace through the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley so that he would not drop it.

"I can put it away for you if you'd like, dear," his mother offered, a slight look of exasperation and embarrassment coloring her face as yet another family spared them a decidedly judgemental glance, giving Colin a wide berth.

Colin shook his head. "Put it away?" he echoed, sounding scandalized. "Mum, it's a magic wand! I can't just . . . put it away. What if it casts a spell? Or explodes? Or —"

Colin's eyes widened as all speculation of magic wands were immediately tossed aside in favor of a rather ramshackle-looking building with a hand-carved sign reading Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Caution was forgotten in an instant as Colin broke into a run, stuffing his wand up the sleeve of his sweater and barreling through the door, sending a cluster of owls scattering from where they'd been perched on the awning.

It was a few minutes later that Ms. Creevey entered after him, already apologizing to the apple-cheeked, jumper-clad storekeeper for the scene her son was making. "It's not a problem," she said with a bemused smile as Colin gazed in awe at the owls.

"Can I have one, Mum?" he asked a moment later. "Please? It says in the letter, we're allowed to! And then I could use it to — to — write more letters! Write to you and Dad and Dennis and —"

"Alright, dear. Just pick which one," his mother finally relented, knowing that this was a battle she stood no chance of winning.

Colin weaved between the perches upon perches of owls, eyes wide as saucers as he gave each and every one of them a hard, meaningful look.

The storekeeper's smile only widened as she watched, turning to Colin's mother a few moments later and striking up what turned out to be a rather stilted, awkward conversation about the weather. It was clear that Ms. Creevey was still not quite used to the world she was discovering, the world of magic and wands and owls delivering letters.

"This one." Colin's voice was sure and determined as it bounced through the emporium. He started back towards the front with an owl resting idly on his shoulder, its amber eyes nearly as wide as Colin's.

The bird was a small, slight thing, with heather-grey feathers accentuated by a mask of pure white around its large, golden eyes.

"He's lovely, dear," Ms. Creevey said, brushing a stray feather from her shoulder with mild disdain. "Alright, how much for him?"

The storekeeper bustled towards the makeshift counter, frowning thoughtfully before naming a price. "Oh!" she added a moment later, eyes alight. "You haven't decided what to name him!"

Colin gazed intently at the owl, who gazed intently back for a moment — before taking off and flying around Colin's head in a frenzied circle of feathers before coming to rest once more on his arm.

"Helicopter," Colin decided.

The storekeeper's smile was slightly confused as she pressed a small package of Owl Treats into a paper bag, which Colin slung over his shoulder before starting out of the store. Helicopter, seeming pleased with the name, offered an affectionate hoot as he followed Colin out the door.

Ms. Creevey offered a harried thank-you to the storekeeper before she followed, to which the still-smiling woman responded with a joyful wave.

Dear Mum,

I'm having such a great year so far! There's this boy called Harry Potter in my house and he's famous, can you believe that? In my house! Harry Potter! I think I might talk to him tomorrow, maybe he'll let me get a picture with him! . . .

Colin was pressed into a squashy crimson armchair in the Gryffindor common room, quill flying across the parchment at breakneck speed. Helicopter remained nearby, the owl's demeanor almost impatient as he flapped around the chair, pecking Colin's arm occasionally as though urging him to write faster.

"There," Colin said, signing his name with a flourish before carefully tying it to Helicopter's outstretched leg. "Take this home, okay? But don't fly through the window without warning again, alright? Mum was not happy about that last time, it's a good thing she doesn't know about Howlers." He shuddered at the mere thought of the explosive letters.

"Oh, and fly safe, okay?" Colin added, almost as an afterthought. He let Helicopter eat an Owl Treat from his hand (the treat being nearly the size of the little bird itself) before waving goodbye and watching him soar away until he was nothing but a dot on the horizon.

Colin was afraid to send another letter. Afraid that the next time he tried, Helicopter would be snatched from the air, and who knew what would happen to him?

He'd already heard the stories, of owls and students alike disappearing. Harry Potter himself had deigned to return to Hogwarts this year, and, as more and more students went missing, Colin retreated further and further into the shadows.

He knew it was Muggle-borns they were after.

He knew it was only a matter of time.

And so, as he stroked Helicopter, the owl, attuned to his worry, offering what seemed to be a look of sympathy, Colin took his latest letter home and added it to the ever-growing pile.

At first, Helicopter had regarded the messy stack of parchment with his amber eyes in a look of confusion. Nearly every time Colin had finished one, he would wait expectantly for him to tie it to his leg, oftentimes pecking the window glass as a reminder.

But Colin had not written home in months, fearful for the safety of himself — and Helicopter.

Now the owl seemed to have realized that these letters were not meant to be sent.

"Sorry," Colin said softly, offering Helicopter an Owl Treat. Both of them were half-hearted in this usually jovial exchange, as Helicopter merely nibbled at the treat before fluttering away. "I just don't want someone to find you. We've got to try and stay safe, okay?"

Helicopter's large golden eyes seemed to hold a look of intelligence to them, as he perched himself on Colin's shoulder, offering a small hoot of indignance a moment later as he attempted to extricate his talons from the knit wool of his sweater.

"Sorry," Colin said again, absently staring at the stack of unsent letters.

Helicopter flew to rest atop them, and though the pile was hardly precarious, the bird was gentle, as though a sudden movement could send everything falling apart.

The grave was a small, nondescript thing.

There was a bouquet of mauve flowers, the pale color a pleasant contrast to the dark green grass.

Or, it would have been pleasant had they not marked the last resting place of Colin Creevey. The funeral had come and gone days ago, and now all that remained were flowers and light footprints in the grass.

And a small, grey and white owl perched atop the headstone, amber eyes glittering brilliantly in the sunlight.

The bird pecked at the grey slab of marble, at the name engraved on the stone, as though trying to make sense of the words.

There seemed to be a quizzical look on its face as it landed now on the bouquet, its gaze intent and intelligent.

Helicopter took off once more, and the beat of its wings was slow and melancholic as it completed a final circle around the grave before coming to rest atop it once more.

a/n: written for the quidditch league fanfiction competition, round three (word count: 1704)

(tamagotchi - i chose to write about a character getting a pet)

optional prompts:

(color) mauve

(word) grave

(object) jumper/sweater

also written for hogwarts: assignment 12, gardening, task 6: write about someone caring for a winged creature

thank you to vic and audrey for betaing!