THC/The Houses Competition

House: Ravenclaw

Class: History of Magic

Category: Standard

Prompt(s): [Animal] Owl [Animal] Loon

Word Count: 1692

Julius Oleander sighed, staring at the carved owl on the top of the mirror's frame. The mirror had belonged to his Granda, who had had, by all accounts, quite the thing for owls. Some might have called them his spirit animal, but he was far too religious for any of that nonsense and heretical balderdash. If Granda had been a wizard, it would've been his patronus no doubt, but h'd been as muggle as they come, and he had never so much as dreamed of wands instead of smartphones or brooms instead of vespas. No, his wise owl was wise only in the way of its own traditions, and this came at a price.

When Julius' Hogwarts letter had come, Granda had run away, holding his crucifix and shouting Aves, as he went to ring the priest. The poor man of the cloth came with such urgency that the young boy had thought someone—perhaps Granna—had died. Instead, the letter which had borne his fate as a wizard was seized, and he was sat down and tied to a high-backed chair, and made to repeat prayers to all the saints for days on end because he was possessed, according to them.

Then, when he thought he could bear it no more, a kind, curly haired woman and her assistant had come down the fireplace, Mione. They did something to stop the priest and Granda, making Julius cry out. But Mione had just hugged him as she freed him from his bonds, hushing him and telling him "It's ok now, Julius. We won't hurt you."

He remembered staring at the owl carving on the top of the mirror in the foyer as the pair of wizards hustled him out the front door, his Granda and the priest still motionless where they stood. He'd screamed, but the sound was eaten by a vortex as the world around them swirled, and they were yanked off the ground and deposited in a new place, or so it seemed. Julius retched, and the kind woman gave him a handkerchief.

"I'm so sorry dear, but trust that it's going to be alright."

It turned out that the woman was an important witch who rescued kids from families that mistreated them until the families could be shown how to do better. A few weeks later, his Granda came on a supervised visit and, in front of the Children's Ministry workers, apologized through crocodile tears, but out of earshot he just cursed them and his terrified grandson.

Julius had been reluctant to be around him after that, choosing to spend most holidays at a special place the Children's Ministry had put together for alienated Muggleborns and any other Magical child in need of a safe and loving holiday home. Here, he took care of his owl named Syd.

Instead of returning to his grandparents, he grew up with Mione, who was more like a mother to him than his own who'd disappeared to drink and drugs by the time he was seven, and the house father, Harry. For some time, Julius had thought that Harry just worked there, but eventually as a 16-year-old drunk on Fire Whiskey under the stadium seats at Hogwarts, he'd learned through rumors that Mione had been separated from her husband some years and had fallen madly in love with Harry.

The children's home sat at the edge of a beautiful lake, and many mornings in the summer, he'd sit on the porch with Hermione and Harry, just watching the loons that called the place home. It really hadn't been much of a surprise when his patronus took the same form has the bird that represented home and safety to him, even if he'd been surprised to form a corporal form at all.

It was in his seventh year that Hermione and Harry married. Julius had attended with his now ailing Granda, whom he had started visiting again around year 3. The old man had mellowed over the three years, learning to keep more of his bias in if he wanted to see his only grandson. Still it was uncomfortable, but Julius felt a pull to his flesh and blood, perhaps a duty. Perhaps something a little more.

Slowly, Granda went from cursing wizards, to perpetual silence and harrumphs about the topic, to reluctant, brief and awkward conversations. He was better with some things than others, but at least they could talk about some of it now—all the things Granda didn't know about his grandson, all the things a 17-year-old might hold deep inside all bottled up. The relief for Julius to finally begin shedding the burden of lifelong secrets was immense, though terribly messy.

It was only weeks before he'd passed that they'd finally begun discussing just what they did at Hogwarts and what being a wizard really meant. Hearing about how owls were so respected had been a great hit while the old man had scoffed at some of the other well-respected animals. "Whoever heard of having a snake for a pet?" he'd said. Even with the occasional bouts of disgust, it was still a relief to have this side of himself out in the open rather than hidden away as it had been for so many years.

And that was why he had wanted to share his crowning glory, the skill that had made him the envy of many of his peers. "Granda, one of the nicest things they taught us was called a Patronus. It's kind of like a guardian angel, really. They're beautiful. Not everyone can make one, but I can. I—I could show you mine. Maybe. Sometime."

His Granda had paused for a long moment, so long Julius had believed he had put the old man off. Then finally he spoke. "Aye, maybe. Sometime."

It was later the same evening when Granda struggled to sit upright in his hospital bed in the living room and coughed out the hoarse words. "Aye, now might be the time. Can-can you show me your wiz-wizard trick?"

Julius was momentarily shocked, then smiled softly.

"Sure, Granda."

He waved his wand with a gentle flourish, murmuring "Expecto Patronum."

Before them in warm, blue-white light appeared a loon, mid-flight.

"This is my Patronus, Granda."

"But it isn't fierce?" He wheezed. "How is it meant to protect you? An owl would be better, they are wise and fierce hunters"

Julius shrugged. "I don't know, it just does. You don't choose your Patronus, it must come to you instead." Julius said with tears in his eyes. He didn't know how else to explain it. The Patronus chose you, not you it. Like so many other ways he had disappointed his Catholic grandfather, Julius did not know how to explain this one either. He couldn't explain why he was thin and poorly built, nor why he preferred sleek attire and the company of men to that of women. Nor could he explain why it was so wrong to ask him to change. He couldn't explain any of it, so for most of his life he'd avoided much contact with Granda rather than try to explain any of it. But now as the end neared, and cancer ate the old man's lungs, he couldn't avoid it anymore.

He went out after that to get some rice and tomatoes for their supper. But when he'd come back, Granda was gone, and the nurse was zipping the terrible, heavy black bag over his face.

Julius had felt his chest imploding, and run out into the street, trying to get a bit of air. He'd furiously done something or other, and ended up at the Childrens Ministry home.

Hermione dropped the pitcher she'd been filling when he appeared in front of her in the kitchen. They didn't even exchange words, just the look on his face told her everything.

Hermione hugged him and rocked him like she had that first night, until he calmed, ragged sobs quieting. He had gone back to the Muggle world for the funeral, and had been staying several weeks as he and distant relatives emptied the house of belongings, preparing it for the realtor. Julius was the only direct heir, and the house was his, but hhe didn't want it. But he didn't feel at all right about any of this either.

So he just stood there, staring at the owl on the mirror frame. His mind filled with thoughts of Syd, the owl that he'd used to avoid interacting with Granda. He regretted it deeply now.

A soft pop being him told him he wasn't alone.

"Julius? Are you doing alright dear?"

He shook his head, not looking up at the familiar voice. "Why am I this way? Why am I soft, why am I magical? Why couldn't I be fierce, why couldn't my Patronus have been an owl, like a man's should be, like the symbol of my family, instead of a bloody loon?" He raged.

"Jules, your Patronus doesn't have to be fierce. It only has to be unafraid. A loon is unique, and beautiful, like you. They are solitary birds, unafraid of breaking from the flock and forging their own paths. Just like you did."

Mione touched him gently on the shoulder, and he turned to hug her tightly.

Many years later (twenty if we must be exact), Daddy Jules was a father to his own son, whom he and his husband had adopted after years being a permanent resident of the Children's Ministry House. They had such fun; they went to the Alps in the summers and ate chestnuts on cold winter evenings in front of a hearth with an owl mirror on one side and an expansive painting of a loon on the other. Both wise birds stood watch over his house, for in time, he'd found a place for both in his home and in his heart. He preferred to remember the nicer things, the fleeting good moments of the owl, but as an older adult he'd come to accept the bad moments as well. Both had played a role in creating who he was and how he raised his own child.