This particular little story is for alix33, who posted a comment on An Owl's Delivery some months ago. Every so often a new reader will favorite or follow something I've long written and when I get the notification, I go look at whatever I wrote that caught that reader's eye. Having done this, I was then occupied for a bit going over older reviews on various stories and I had forgotten both this story and the comment. That comment follows:
alix33 chapter 1 . Jul 7
I would have paid (though not much, since I am a freelance proofreader with a fledgling little business that I am the sole proprietor and employee of) to have seen those fights between Hedwig and her Hogwarts post owl colleagues.
Well, then. Now I'm wondering, too. When I start to wonder (as hopefully opposed to others wondering about me) I have to try to write it out. That does not help with the backlog of stories that I currently have, but Oh Well…Now, I did say that this was for alix33, but I hope others find amusement in it as well. Be warned: much anthropomorphism ahead! I'm being unserious!
You know… the usual. Enjoy!
\=^=/
Domination
The old raven grumbled as he put down his work and shuffled to the edge of his assigned space to see what the problem was this time. When he saw what all the fuss was in the bullpen, he sighed heavily.
Here we go again. Scornglare's going to be busy again.
It was getting to be right tedious. Magical birds lived longer than the non-magical varieties, but lately it seemed that whatever passed as post owls nowadays presented themselves as more stupid than a domesticated turkey. Some exceptions to that observation had taken their posts in this Owlery, of course, but far too many still fit the observation. That meant that imbecility took its toll on the otherwise long magical lifespan.
He and Gleamtalon had spent many a late night commiserating over it. The Speaker of the Owlery was an old friend of his and had asked him to come to the Hogwarts Owlery to run the intelligence unit. He'd agreed without hesitation as he was getting a bit too old and slow to be out in the field. When he'd gotten there and saw what old Gleamtalon had to deal with… well, the students on the grounds passing from class to class had been quite startled at the angry caws coming from the Owlery.
Just because he was old didn't mean he wasn't mean and treacherous enough to break a few wings. It wouldn't have been the first time or the second or even the twelfth time he'd done it to some smartarsed, snotbeaked, runny-eyed young owl who thought far too much of himself, but he couldn't do it now without making things harder. It was only because of his friendship with the Speaker that he didn't. Oh well. He didn't make it through a long and sometimes completely hush-hush career to become Regimental Sergeant Major Stórmerki, 1 Magical Avian MI Battalion by rolling over. No, Stórmerki used his brain and wits.
Plus, Lady Hedwig frightened him sometimes. Lovely lady, but damn, she straight up scared the gizzards out of him sometimes.
It had taken a few days for Gleamtalon to clue him in since he'd arrived at a bad time, but once the hullabaloo had settled down Stórmerki had confirmed the speculation that her wizard was the Potter kid. A ebon eyebrow had risen at that piece of information, since his unit had already been keeping track of the boy for some time while being seconded to one of the Queen's avian commands. The Master Conspirator was another old service friend of his, posted as the Head Raven at the Tower of London. In fact, some of the intelligence that had been generated by the Master Conspirator's work was in Gleamtalon's office right now. It had been the conclusion of the stealth units that the kid was in rough shape in several ways, but the magical reading they'd taken was higher than they'd expected. That had generated all kinds of speculation.
There was some kind of blood wards at that property, too, but they'd just laughed. Those didn't affect them one bit and they got on with what they needed to do.
Well, that and have several little friendly chats with some cats that thought they were easy pickings. Once those misunderstandings had been cleared up and the cats either limped away or were carted away, business had proceeded as usual. He soon enough found himself here in the Hogwarts Owlery doing the same thing he'd done in the service. Got paid better, too.
The funny thing was, Hedwig seemed to like him. She said that the old raven reminded her in a lot of ways of her grandfather.
That was a bit of a hit to his pride, he was loath to admit even to himself and he didn't say it where Gleamtalon could hear and make fun of him. The old owl would, too. It didn't matter what stuffy image he projected out on the floor of the Owlery, since Stórmerki could remember the hellion he'd been as a younger owl. In fact, he'd been there for much of it and had helped in the execution of some of the things they did.
The old raven roused himself from his memories as he heard the drama begin. He peered over the ledge to see – who was that now… looked like young Henson. A screech owl with rather large feather rings curving around his eyes that gave him a pop-eyed look. It looked odd to him, but apparently didn't bother the other bird.
What bothered everyone else was that he make 'stuffy' look positively exuberant. Even Gleamtalon couldn't pull it off the same way Henson could, and he'd been doing it for decades. There had been debate behind the younger owl's back on whether he was already halfway ready for the magical taxidermist or if it was natural.
No one was ever quite sure.
There was one of the students with a letter standing there, waiting for… of course. She always waited for Lady Hedwig. That particular one was another topic of debate and this one was all about when the young Lord Potter would come to his senses and see what was right in front of his nose. Some of the owls had been wondering if he needed a kick in the rear, others wondered if he needed a good talking-to. Most hoped he'd hurry up and figure it out.
"Maybe he needs new glasses," Stórmerki grumped. It was quite obvious to him. He sometimes sat in on the planning sessions with Gleamtalon, Lady Hedwig, and Crookshanks. So far, there hadn't been a large amount of progress. There was hope, though. The betting between them was lucrative, too.
The young lady had only been there for a moment when Henson had fluttered down with all the importance he could muster and stuck his leg out. She stared at him, the look of being quite taken aback clear on her face even from the distance from the floor to the rafters where the old raven had his space. The owlish equivalent of popping his collar and strutting didn't endear himself to her, either. Neither did seeing the evident attempts by the other post owls to dissuade him from his actions, for that matter.
"Stórmerki, do you see what I see?"
The old raven turned to see his old friend standing next to him heaving a gusty sigh.
"I do. I see someone else about to mess up."
"Wouldn't be the first time. First there was Jessup and now this one."
"I need a scoreboard in here."
"I need to decide if I'll tell Crookshanks about this or not."
"Better put in a requisition for more replacements first."
\=^=/
"I'm sorry, but I'm waiting for Hedwig to take my letter to my parents. They're expecting her."
Hoooot-hoot-hoot. Sniff. Hoot.
What Hermione couldn't understand in the Owlish language but was translated to something she would have responded to worked out to "Silly girl. You're obviously too stupid and simple-minded to understand the advantages that an owl such as myself can confer upon you. It could only improve your station, lowborn as it is."
She didn't understand what was being said to her, but knew that post owls had the intelligence to communicate higher-level thoughts and concepts, especially those that had also been given Familiar Magic. Hermione had occasionally caught glimpses of the raven that for some reason had taken up residence in the tower. A time or two she caught him looking at her as if he was assessing her but it seemed approving, almost. It was odd. Or maybe the bird just liked her.
She also never thought that a bird would remind her of her grandfather. If he ever came down here to her level, she would take a chance on his intelligence and mention that to him to see what happened. It was an amusing thought.
This owl ruined the humor however. He seemed almost like Percy at his worse, times three. Supercilious, condescending, and a few other adjectives that she didn't want to think of but still applied quite well. She stared at him for a few moments. Whatever he said, or hooted or whatever, made her feel uncomfortable. Hermione stepped back a couple of steps.
She could see several owls on the lowest perches watching the whole thing and they looked uncomfortable, too.
"I don't know what you said, but I really would rather Hedwig take my letter."
Hoot-hoot-prek-hoooooot. The last note warbled into lower registers that Hermione wasn't even aware an owl could reach.
"As if a female could do what I can do better. That one would be excellent for nesting, but post duties? Please. I could be quite the bird for you. I have many qualifications, shall we say."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. She was looking at the bird, but was getting the impression that she was really seeing Lockhart. There was a rustle of feathers from higher up in the roosts and several sounds that sounded for all the world like sighs.
Wait, when did owls sigh in resignation? Or was that disgust? A quick glance upward saw that a good portion of the Owlery's residents were perched on the edges of their roost beams and watching. A small white feather drifted down between Hermione and the smarmy owl. It fluttered to the ground, dancing on the small air currents that circulated in the Owlery from wingbeats or the outlets built into the structure. Both of them looked at it as it fell.
It might have been one of Hedwig's. Some of the other owls had a few feathers of that shade, too. The owl that was trying to take Hermione's letter practically sneered at it.
Hoot.
The fricative nature of that verbalization of the owl made Hermione step back even more and thrust the letter behind her back. Had she been able to understand, she would have heard Henson say, "Pity. The little girl wants another little girl to play at being grown up. One's afraid and shivering, and one's afraid and shedding."
Hermione was shivering but it was colder in the Owlery than she'd expected. This owl was taking up time she could have been using to pet Hedwig and send her off with her letter, then get back inside the castle where it was warmer!
HOOOOOT! PREEEEKKK!
Hermione's eyes jumped up to see Hedwig power diving to the floor of the Owlery. The silence of the descent was eerie to her, even knowing how Hedwig flew. There was distinct glowing fury in her round eyes and in between scuttling back to the walls of the building and jumping over discarded bones, Hermione wondered just what the other owl had said.
Whatever it was, it had made Harry's familiar very, very furious. Murderous, even.
She looked over to see the raven next to an old owl that looked like every company executive that sat in every boardroom she'd ever seen or imagined. They seemed to be conversing. Just before she looked back at Hedwig's nearly completed dive, her eyes went wide.
Were they… were those two betting?
\=^=/
A few moments earlier:
"Lady Hedwig! Come quick!"
"What's going on?"
"The clawed fat one's mistress is here for you and Henson is bothering her!"
"What?"
"Hurry!"
Hedwig's lunch of field mouse with a side of parbroiled grasshopper went splattering down as she hastened after the excitable little Scops messenger owl. The diminutive owl wasn't assigned the same duties as a post owl, but he liked the girl that had just arrived and tried to make her visits to the Owlery for Hedwig run smoothly every time. So far, he'd been successful.
This was going to break his record. He didn't like that, so he wanted to do something about that. There was only one owl he could think of right away to help with that.
From the ledge, they could hear "…waiting for Hedwig to take my letter to my parents. They're expecting her."
When Hedwig heard the reply, she puffed up in anger on behalf of the girl. It was a good thing Her Harry wasn't here and couldn't understand owls in the same way that he could snakes. This Henson fool would be any number of tiny shreds of free-floating feathers in that case.
The gasp at her side made her look at the much smaller owl. She'd momentarily forgotten him. He looked scandalized.
"Lady Hedwig, he… he just…"
"I know, child. Let's listen and let him dig his own hole."
"But what he's saying to her! It's… It's not right!" The outrage was clear in his squeaky voice.
"She doesn't understand him like we do, more's the pity. I'll handle this in a moment. Go warn the Speaker."
Suddenly wide eyes met hers. She reached out a wing to him, and absently noted that less than half her wing completely covered him.
"He won't eat you. Take a deep breath, go report – and be slow when you speak! – and you'll be all right. He needs to know what's going on here."
"Yes, Lady Hedwig."
The tiny owl hustled off as Hedwig turned her attention back to the conversation. Her eyes narrowed in rising ire. She listened for the next minute or two and that was all that she needed.
"Henson! You absolute fool! Your death comes for you on silent wings!"
She could see that the insult-laden smirk on Henson's face had melted off as he turned to look up at her. Hedwig ran up to the edge and dived off. The watchers could see a golden glow follow the path she blazed through the air.
\=^=/
"Thank you, Rollo. We saw it start to happen. She'll finish it. Good report, though."
"Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
The little messenger owl started to withdraw.
"And Rollo?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I've noticed you've been stepping up to smooth Miss Granger's visits in particular. Come see me tomorrow, after all that foolishness out there has been dealt with by Lady Hedwig and we get the place cleaned up. I've got something else I want to try you out on along those lines. Good job."
"Y-yes, sir! I'll be here! Thank you, sir!"
Stórmerki watched the happy little owl depart.
"They get smaller every year," he remarked. "Are you really sure tomorrow will be enough time?"
"I'll put the other idiots I've got here on the job." Gleamtalon grimaced at he looked out on the floor. "Oh, damn. That had to hurt."
"Now you know why she scares the gizzards out of me."
\=^=/
Henson didn't know what precisely hit him. Oh, he was well aware that it was Hedwig, but how was the question. The last thing that he clearly remembered was seeing the white wings flare. Then pain.
The watchers from above saw the flaring wings, too, one just a few feathers' width back from the other. They wondered why that was, since Hedwig was one of the most precise fliers in the Owlery. The ripple that went through her body was a bit of a mystery, until they thought about how she taught some of the younger owls the proper way to hunt. And of course, the proper way to strike with talons.
The watchers from the lower roosts saw the talons swing forward as if on swivels. Each one from that viewpoint shuddered to see the deadly sharp points embed into Henson with all deliberate viciousness, one set on his chest and the other set on his gullet thanks to the slight pivot that the wing position gave her. Blood started to flow, and no one was sure if the owlish shriek came from Hedwig or Henson.
Both sets of watchers could see that Hedwig crouched into the impact zone and yawed her body and the rearward wing into a strike right into the neck of the very unfortunate male owl. The opposite wing beat the air, gathering an asymmetrical lift to tear bloody chunks from the body of her victim. The left talons remained clamped into Henson's gullet, while the right set shredded feathers, skin, and muscle.
This time, there was no doubt which owl was shrieking.
Henson lay sprawled across the dirty floor with agony fast becoming his closest companion, while Hedwig leaned forward put all her weight into the left talons. She struck both sides of his head with the leading edges of her wings as hard as she could – left, right, left, right, leftrightleftright. The white wings moved too fast for Henson's blood to find a place to settle.
Finally, she jumped off Henson's wheezing body. What little blood she had on her, she dipped her beak down to rip out pinion feathers from the shivering male owl below her to flick the droplets off with. It took a moment, but soon her feathers shone as pristine as her normal appearance demanded.
There was little notice paid to Henson by the female owl aside from a comment.
"I think I'll leave you like this to teach you a lesson about civility. If you feel you need a refresher, you know how to find me."
A weak groan was the only answer.
"Now, excuse me. Duty calls."
She started to turn away, but faced him again. Hedwig caught his eyes in her glare.
"And for your edification, I'm not a 'little girl.' I'm a Lady."
This time there wasn't a groan, only a weak gasp.
Hedwig flew the short distance to the mail perches with all the grace she possessed and stuck her leg out. Hermione gaped at her for a moment, but shook herself and tied the letter on.
"To my parents, girl. And stay overnight there to rest after that! I take it he was very rude?"
The look that Hedwig gave her communicated… something… to her, and her mouth tightened as she looked at the bedraggled owl still sprawled out on the floor. When she looked back at the snowy owl, she was smiling.
"He was a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach, wasn't he? Reminds me of someone I know. Good job, girl. We'll keep this between us and Harry doesn't have to know a single thing. Right?"
Hoot, said Hedwig in agreement before she winged her way out of the Owlery.
\=^=/
Stórmerki shook his head at the scene below as Hedwig left and the Granger girl hurried out, presumably to warm up.
"Think that will convince the others to not be so stupid?"
Gleamtalon heaved the sigh of the truly put-upon.
"Are you being silly?"
"Well, more entertainment for us."
"And more paperwork for me. Now I have to call Scornglare, tell her what happened – and why – and put her to work."
Stórmerki started laughing. The harsh caws echoes off the walls and some of the younger owls looked up.
"Poor bastard won't know who was worse, Lady Hedwig or Scornglare."
"That's for sure. Plus, I'll have to pull him into a closed door meeting when he's up and around later. Want to sit in?"
"Sure. Might as well mention a few things."
"Will they be true?"
The old raven clutched his breast feathers. Amusement danced in his eyes.
"What? You know me!"
"What am I saying? Of course they won't. Anyway, now that the excitement's over, take a look at these reports…"
\=^=/
Harry looked at Hermione later that night.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Come on. What is it?"
"Nothing, really. You don't want to know."
"Sure I do. I could use some humor after the day with Snape."
"Professor Snape, and are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Now what's so funny?"
"Oh, just something between us girls."
Harry's mouth snapped shut quickly. That was something he didn't want to know. If Hermione was talking about something girl-related, it was something he had no business asking about or even knowing. It was probably much safer that way.
"Er… Nevermind, Hermione. I think I'll go work on my assignments."
He left a little more quickly than decorum allowed and with far more speed than his assignments would otherwise cause. Hermione snickered at the wake he left behind.
"Oh, wait till I put this in a letter home!"
The End
Author's End Note:
Since this story uses some of my Potters Echoes characters, I'll go ahead and say that it's set in that continuity. This brings up a poser… since it spins off from An Owl's Delivery, does that mean that AOD is now retroactively part of that universe? I need to think about this a while.