Titleshamelessly stolen from "When Harry Met Sally", except that the nature of Harry and Hedwig's relationship is nothing like Harry and Sally's. Enjoy!
Harry was of the firm belief that if it weren't for Hedwig, his life may have turned out very differently. She was the stable presence which had always been there, there to piece him back together when he fell apart out of reach of any other person.
I choose you.
But… she hadn't always been there. In fact, Harry had only met Hedwig when he was merely eleven-years-old, still a child raised by no one, guided into this new world of wonder by a giant man.
The end of the best day of Harry's life was drawing to an end when the boy and the owl met.
"Yer see," said Hagrid as they wandered down the cobbled laneway of Diagon Alley, carting Harry's newly-acquired school supplies with them, "all good witches an' wizards keep a familiar as a companion."
"Why?" asked Harry, looking up at Hagrid while adjusting his grip on his pewter cauldron.
"Er." Hagrid scratched his beard, stunted. "I dunno, actually. Supposed ter help with channellin' magic, somethin' like tha'."
Harry considered, then asked, "Do you have one?"
"Yes I do," said Hagrid, puffing up proudly. "Fang's his name. Grea' useless lump, if yer ask me, but he keeps yer company through dark nights."
The two came to a halt in front of a brightly-lit store, cushioned by the growing shadows as dusk crept in.
The vibrant sign, hanging from a set of rusty hinges, read The Magical Menagerie, and through the wide windows, Harry could see a parliament of owls, hooting curiously to one another, as well as a clowder of cats, grooming their faces indifferently.
Drawn in by the warm homeliness of the scene, Harry pushed through the front door, leaving his cauldron and books in the corner. He could hear Hagrid squeezing himself into the shop as Harry watched lizards and toads playing hopscotch in one corner, while in another space, some sleek rats were skipping.
"Looking to acquire your first familiar?" asked the witch sitting behind the counter, lazily flipping through an issue of what read in bold letters Witch Weekly.
"I think so," said Harry, glancing about timidly. Behind him, Hagrid had finally managed to heave himself through the doorway, and he said loudly, "Jus' don't choose a cat, please. I'm allergic to 'em."
"A witch or wizard," said the shopkeeper, sounding scandalized, "does not simply 'choose a cat', or any other animal for that matter. It is they who choose you, not unlike wands, Mr. Hagrid."
"Tha's what I meant," said Hagrid, blushing. "Sorry, Babette."
The shopkeeper, Babette, folded up her magazine and gazed at Harry over the top of her spectacles. Her eyes flickered to the scar on his forehead for a moment, but otherwise remained trained on his face.
Harry looked back at her in silence. After a few moments, she finally said, "Well, are you going to go around and meet everybody or what?"
"Oh," said Harry, scurrying over to the cats first.
"Honestly," muttered Babette under her breath, and Hagrid begged, "Not the cats, Harry!"
So Harry quickly passed by the cats, all of whom watched Harry pass by with cool, lidded eyes.
"What do you know of familiars, Mr. Potter?" asked Babette as Harry circled the shop. What looked to be a porcupine was hiding behind a woven basket of speckled pink-and-green eggs. Harry didn't question how she knew his name.
"Not much," he responded, crouching next to the rats to evaluate them, though he got the feeling that it was them doing the evaluating more than him. "I only found out about familiars a few minutes ago."
"Is that so?" Babette's tone was odd. Harry became suddenly hyperaware of his oversized clothes – his baggy trousers, rolled up five times at the ankles and cinched at his waist by a belt, and the flannel shirt which he was swimming in. He ducked his head to the ground self-consciously, moving away from the rats quietly. Their beady eyes followed him, as if they understood the same amount that Babette did.
"Why don't yer tell Harry more about familiars," interjected Hagrid, and Harry shot him a grateful look. Babette hummed deeply in the back of her throat, unconvinced.
"Well, the myth is that having a familiar helps one will spellwork and such," she said, "but nobody really believes that."
"Of course no one does," boomed Hagrid, looking sheepish. Babette made a noise of exasperation before continuing.
"They simply make for good companions – like having a trusted person by your shoulder all day. Once, and if, you earn it, you will have their unwavering loyalty, which is more than can be said of most humans." She tutted disapprovingly, and Harry got the feeling that she much preferred the company of animals to people. The snakes in the rafters of the ceiling went quiet as Harry passed beneath them, and he glanced upwards. He was certain that one smiled at him.
"That python is showing an interest in you," observed Babette, and Hagrid muttered what sounded like a curse into his beard. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Familiars are also capable of transforming into humans. Only for a short while, mind you. You'd expect it to be rather draining, after all."
"Human?" repeated Harry. "No way. I mean, really? Could I… could I see?"
"You can't force them to transform," said Babette indignantly. "It's not a cheap show for your amusement. They transform for you when you are most in need. Besides, it's a sign of utmost trust to reveal themselves in such a vulnerable way. Statistics show that approximately only fifty percent of familiars transform for their witch or wizard."
The owls ruffled their feathers in agreement. Harry nodded along, though he felt very silly for having asked in the first place.
"Now, have you walked around everywhere?" asked Babette as Harry finally came back to the counter. "Yes, it looks like it. Our Burmese python up there looks as though he's chosen you, Mr. Potter."
Harry's eyes followed where her finger was pointing. A giant, thick serpent, with hexagonal markings tracing its back, was slithering down the wall, blinking clear membrane over its eyes.
:Take care of me:, said the snake, :and I will vanquish your enemies:.
Before Harry could say anything in return, a bright white shape slid through his line of vision, and then standing before him was a tall young woman, completely blocking his view of the Burmese python. All that he could see was long, platinum blonde hair spilling down a back.
"I shall take it from here," said the woman. Her voice was clear and cold, like ice crystals.
Peeking around her shoulder, Harry saw the Burmese python spitting belligerently before slowly climbing back up the wall. Harry glanced over his shoulder. Hagrid's mouth had dropped open, and Babette's eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline.
Frowning, Harry looked back up at the back of the woman's head, then hesitantly tapped her back.
"Excuse me," he said, "but who are you? And where did you come from?"
There was a moment of utmost silence, then the woman turned around, her gossamer white robes billowing around her like a veil of mist.
She was so tall to Harry then – taller even than the crane-like Aunt Petunia, with long, elegant limbs and an aristocratic face which might have been haughty if it weren't for the tenderness in her amber eyes as she gazed down at the boy in front of her.
"All that matters," she said quietly, "is that I choose you. I hope that in turn, you shall choose me."
Blinking wide eyes up at her, understanding flooded over Harry, from head to toe. He shot another glance over to Hagrid and Babette. Babette had regained her composure, having returned to her Witch Weekly magazine as if nothing at all had occurred, and Hagrid was still gazing at the woman in awe.
A rush of warmth started to bubble in Harry's chest, and then it gradually began to spread outwards, travelling through the map of his veins as he smiled at first Hagrid, then the woman, because they were the first two companions he had ever had in his life. And for that, Harry was honoured.
"I choose you, too," he whispered, and the woman inclined her head briefly, before vanishing in a whirlwind of bright light. In her place was a beautiful snowy owl, who swooped away to settle herself down by the counter, watching Harry with intelligent eyes.
"That'll be ten galleons," said Babette without looking up from her magazine.
"Ahem," offered Hagrid, still unnerved as he stepped forwards. "I'll pay. My birthday gift to yer."
Later, when Hagrid returned Harry to the Dursleys' front door, Harry asked why he had seemed so shocked by the sight of the woman. Owl. Woman. Whom he would later name Hedwig.
"It's jus' tha'," said Hagrid, shrugging his shoulders, "after all our years together, not even Fang has attempted a transformation before. Useless creature. Looks like yer've got a special one there, Harry."
The owl winked.