Author's Note:
This is a submission for QLFC, Season 9, Round 3: Isn't it Gothic
Team: Tutshill Tornados.
Position: Seeker.
Prompt: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Write about someone whose work or ambition overtakes all other aspects of their life.
Word Count: 2,509
Trigger Warnings: canon death of a character
This was beta'd by the amazing Tres, the wonderful unspeakable3, and the wildly enthusiastic SixtySeagraves. My sincere thanks and appreciation to all of you!
This was written for (and partially inspired by, I suppose) Cindy Lou (3/31/21.) CL: You were the best cat we could ask for and you are sorely missed.
I hope you enjoy!
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She was a postal owl and came from a long line of the same. It was something the regal snowy owl was very proud of. When she and her fellow clutch-mates were just barely getting their first feathers in, more concerned with foodwarmthsleep than anything else, her parents had begun to teach them what they would need to know to navigate the world of wizards. The first and most important lesson was to be infinitely picky when allowing a wizard to choose you.
This was for many reasons, not least because of their rare breed in the world of postal owls. Their bright plumage stood out to wizards and other predators alike and many of their kind had been hunted and trapped, kept as prizes. Rare were the wizards that wanted - and were willing to pay a hefty amount of Galleons for - such distinctive couriers for their missives.
If they were lucky, a wizard may retire them after a decade or two, and they would be allowed to live a life of comfort in their wizard's owlery or 'in the wild' on their manor grounds. Some would even be returned to the breeder that had initially helped bring them into life. It was only there that they should mate and have their own clutch, where they would be protected from having so many clutches a female could become egg-bound, their species common and disregarded. It was partially because of this that they should always have only the minimum number of eggs in their clutches. Snowies were one of the few owls that had learned to harness the magic of the Wizarding World in such a way, a perplexing thing to the wizards that cared for them.
The second lesson was that they were couriers, postal owls, and that was the most important thing in their world. It came before hunting, before mating. Before anything. It was a matter of pride to their lineage, and it was to be upheld by each and every one of her clutch-mates during their lifetime.
The fledgling didn't let the other owls know, but as her pin feathers came in and itched their way to a glossy white cloak of mature feathers, she felt in her breastbone that there could be something more.
She was the first of her clutch to learn to fly, never once fearful of the drop outside their nest.
She was the first to be deemed mature and taken from the nest to a shop which housed many other birds, each seeking their wizard.
She was the last of her clutch to be bought, spending years in the overcrowded space before allowing a man to purchase her.
The man towered over the others there, something her avian brain found amusing. Fledgling and mature wizards alike shrank away from the large man as if he was going to turn around and hurt them, whispers of half-giant reaching her sharp ears. The familiar masses acted as if he were a predator and they the prey, dulled human minds unable to decipher hidden cues in such a predator, let alone the distinct subtleties in such a relationship.
Not a single one could read the gentleness in his demeanour, the innocent awe in dark eyes that reminded her of owlets listening to the exploits and lessons of their parents. She had seen him there before. The man was a regular visitor to this shop of common animals, but she had never once felt the need to show herself to him. It drove the proprietor mad, she knew, that she was so distinctive and yet so good at slipping from the flimsy cage she was held in and escaping into the eaves as she desired.
She was a postal owl and she was proud of that fact. That did not mean that she was going to allow someone she deemed unacceptable or unworthy in any way to purchase her.
Today, though, the shafts of her feathers trembled in anticipation. This large man wasn't her wizard, no, but he could lead her to the one she had waited for. It was finally time. He had purchased her for a paltry sum of gold coins. The snowy owl had lived within the confines of the shop for a few years and was now considered almost past her prime. Her feathers had ruffled at such an affront to her pride: she, past her prime?
It was a small wizard owlet that christened her Hedwig and her feathers ruffled in pleasure at such a distinctive, regal name being granted to her. (She had spent years listening to wizarding owlets naming their owls, cats, and toads ridiculous names and was thankful that she wasn't another in a long line of 'Snowballs' or 'Midnights.') Just as the man who had purchased her was larger than most, this young wizard owlet was smaller. He was pale, almost unnaturally so, and dark hair stood in a tangled nest above bright green eyes. She stood just a bit taller in her travel cage at the thought that her wizard was just as distinctive as she - Hedwig - herself.
He was also thin, as if his crop had remained empty too long and too often, and Hedwig had the urge to fight free of the flimsy bars holding her so that she may hunt for him. He was almost as fine-boned as an avian himself.
And he was hers.
The newly christened Hedwig wasn't happy when the large man (Hagrid, she had learned) was going to take her to the Wizarding school weeks before her human owlet would be there. The very idea of being separated from the small boy went against the feelings in every single feather shaft in her body. It was an odd sensation coursing through her hollow bones, not one that her parents had ever mentioned. Part of her wondered if that was why she had stayed in the shop for so long. Was it not because she was picky, but instead because there was something defective within her?
Her indignant hissing went ignored, however, and the child was dropped off at a place so devoid of inherent magic that her pin feathers rose in response. Copper yellow eyes surveyed these foreign surroundings, each building exactly the same, each green area perfectly manicured. It was entirely unnatural and quite unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.
In no way did she actually wish to stay in this strange place, but if this was where her wizard's nest-mates had chosen to live, then she should remain there as long as he did himself. It also did not sit well with her that she was going to be nowhere near him to deliver his packages, her one job in life.
It was many days later that he finally arrived where she was being kept, his magical aura standing out among hundreds of others as they crossed into the castle's territory. She had tried to go to him, glad that they were finally there together, but had been restrained to the tower with the other postal owls. From the oldest to the youngest, each owl was singularly unimpressed by her need to see her wizard.
Hedwig was sure that they didn't understand the draw to her wizarding owlet. After all, they had not been chosen by a wizard (or, in her case, chosen a wizard), but had instead been purchased by the accountants of Hogwarts for use by staff and students alike. It made sense to her avian brain that they were lacking that spark of connection that she so desperately wanted to follow.
Two sunrises later, her wizard finally made his way up to the owlery. Her feathers fluffed with indignation at the delay - two whole sunrises had passed before he had even thought to come to see her? - but she settled as he began to stroke her back. Nimble fingers made their way down the shafts of her feathers, making their way from her back to her breastbone to the top of her head, her eyes closing against the gentle scratching through her down. After a period of time, he stopped and leaned back against the stone wall, partially hidden in the shadows created by the window above him.
Ignoring the looks from the other postal owls, she followed him until she rested on his knee, careful of the fabric of his robes against her talons. He immediately took the hint and began to pet her again, speaking of his classes, classmates, and teachers. She nosed around him gently but found no rolled parchment or package near him, not even one shrunken to make it easier for her to carry.
Had he made the journey to the owlery simply to see her?
The visits continued throughout his first year, her wizard regularly coming to visit her in the owlery, sometimes with a schoolbook to read where he wouldn't be disturbed. She also made it a point to visit him while he was out on the grounds. It was one of those visits, when she alighted on her wizard with two other fledglings, that she learned his name was Harry.
No one spoke of the darkness that clung to her Harry, coiling, waiting to strike when he was least aware.
During his first year at Hogwarts, she was rarely used by Harry as a postal owl, and only once was she sent off Hogwarts grounds. That was her job and she was proud to be one, but she began to wonder if that spark that ignited in her breastbone meant that Harry needed her for something else.
The end of his first year saw them traveling again, this time together. Hedwig had been placed in a wicker travel cage that she could easily escape from or destroy should she choose to, particularly as Harry forgot to magically secure it. She made no move to, not wanting to leave her wizard, even when they arrived at the train station on the London side. It was much more crowded and a lot noisier to her sensitive ears. They were greeted by a large man, this one much wider than tall, who called her a ruddy bird and made her hackles rise.
They were locked up for most of that summer. Hedwig was only rarely allowed out to hunt for food. She loved those times, finally able to stretch her wings and soar. She also relished in the ability to hunt, having to take food from her Harry much too often during the summer. It wasn't that she minded him feeding her; it was that he was beginning to look as he had during their first meeting once again: skin stretched tight across slightly protruding bones.
It was then that she decided that Harry was hers to take care of. It was obvious that none of the others would do so.
The second year passed much like the first. Hedwig was rarely being used as the postal owl she was purchased to be. Through the entire year, she had her hackles up, a constant unease ruffling her feathers as she watched for the predator she felt nearby. But as sharp as her eyesight was, Hedwig never found it. Her Harry was once again in the midst of trouble near the end of the year.
Even as she was finally utilised as the postal owl she was raised to be, occasionally taking letters to and from a Padfoot who was often in disguise, that spark burned within her.
She was a postal owl and she was proud of it. But she was not only a postal owl and perhaps she was more proud of that. She was more than she had been bred to be.
Hedwig spent the years at Hogwarts comforting her Harry, a steady rock of support against the shifting teenage drama that his classmates displayed. Sometimes they loved Harry. Sometimes they hated him. It seemed to change with the tides, and it was only his closest Gryffindors who stayed by his side - with a few exceptions. Her soft feathered wings were a buffer against the outside world, both in the castle and in the place he called Privet Drive.
Her Harry was the centre of something, Hedwig knew. She had heard other wizards, fledgling and grown alike, whisper You-Know-Who and Boy-Who-Lived. Their voices quivered with awe and disgust, with hope and disdain. Their auras dimmed with the fear of prey when faced with a predator they do not know they can escape.
Because Hedwig was more than a postal owl, it was her job to fly by her wizard's side. That was why she had been picked.
It was one late night when they were rescued from the boring house on Privet Drive. This place was not just a prison because of the bars on the window. Their primary jailers were Harry's human family, each as devoid of magic as their surroundings. They treated Harry worse than the worst-tempered breeders had been, the ones who regularly attacked their wizard carers. Hedwig was aware, however, of the magical auras that visited the area, each staying a distance back and seemingly doing nothing more than watching Harry.
Harry not once acknowledged them, leading Hedwig to believe they were hidden from his sight. Through the years, he had become more closed off, his childlike innocence lost under the trials he had gone through. He had grown both angrier and sadder, though Hedwig herself was the only one who seemed to see the latter.
That night, the auras showed themselves.
The One Without Pieces and the One With Many led the flock, joined by the Turning Friend and the Book Witch, The Mirrors, The One Who Changes, The Calm Oasis and others. Some took a potion that made them shudder before Hedwig was surrounded by copies of her Harry. Inferior copies, as she could immediately spot the true Harry by his magical aura, but enough to fool most Wizards with blunted senses.
As one, they took flight, her Harry in the middle of the flock. Almost immediately they were beset by other wizards, auras dark and twisted as they circled the group. Colours lit the dreary English sky as both sides cast spells, defence and offence twisting against each other in a deadly dance. Hedwig made sure to stay near her Harry, not trusting anyone else to truly care for her chick.
She was a postal owl by birth, but she was Harry's companion, and he was hers by choice. She had spent years caring for him in place of the horrible no-magics and she had no intention of stopping now. The auras could help if they must, but it was her job to stand by her wizard.
As they all flew together, the sky lit up with an unnatural, sinister green, one Hedwig had never seen in all her years at Hogwarts. As she flew towards Harry, nothing in her avian mind other than protectprotectprotect, one of the bolts brushed her feathers.
She knew no more.
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I hope you enjoyed it!
Any feedback is appreciated!