A/N:
the story is only as serious as you want to interpret it as!
this takes place during YEAR ONE of my story 'In the Daylight Again'
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Poultry in Motion
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Life had a routine. Rising to the sight of beautiful sunlight, sleeping when the light faded away. Being visited by the humans that minded the coop and filled the containers that dispensed food and water. Such a life was all that she could remember. There had been nothing before this life, and there would be nothing after it.
All of this made sense. As much sense as something could make to a hen, at any rate.
One of the humans visited more than the others, taking time to clean the coops and pet the feathers of the hens that approached him. His voice was soft, caring, more gentle. Many of the hens preferred this softer human to the other, louder one.
She did not have a preference one way or another, for her goal was to avoid the attention of the other hens, and she could not do so while vying for the attention of the humans. There were other issues of much higher concern, and so she had not bothered to approach either human in search of comfort.
The other hens disliked her. That much she knew. Her feathers were not as downy, her tail feathers not as beautiful. Her beak was curved differently and her legs were not an even length. She had been one of the tinier birds as a youth, and time had not grown her into grace.
Her focus was spent observing the interactions of the other hens who fought for dominance in the coop, and protecting her own eggs long enough for them to be collected.
Good eggs were often rewarded with pats and praise; unprotected eggs had a habit of being broken or eaten by those vicious hens who desired the attention of the soft human.
So she kept to herself and minded her own eggs, knowing that as long as she was considered less than the rest, she had an advantage.
Some days, the noisier human would visit in place of the other one. When alone, this human was much quieter. His eyes would follow the interplay of the chickens for a few moments, and then the muck would be vanished and the containers would be filled once more.
This human collected eggs quickly, with halting, often jolting motions that the other hens disliked. The ruder ones would try to peck, to swipe at the delicate skin that could bleed. But she held still, stood up from her nest to reveal her eggs, and hoped, vainly, that her good behaviour would be noticed.
Time passed, and nothing changed. She continued her cyclical existence of producing eggs and scratching at hens that tried to ruin her precious eggs with their correctly-curved beaks.
Then, one day, the noisy human spoke, and his voice was every bit as soft as his counterpart's.
"Hello, there," he murmured, creeping closer.
The sound warbled faintly in the coop. She stood on shaky legs, more alert than she had ever been, excitement racing in her feathers as she hopped to one side, revealing the eggs she had kept careful watch over for two whole days.
"I'm here to collect your eggs," he continued, still in that lovely, soothing tone that warmed her like a fresh nest on a hot day. "But you know that, don't you? You're not like the other chickens."
Dare she respond? The rest of the coop was quiet, aware of the attention now placed upon her. Her beak dipped down, then back up, and she decided then that she would risk a chirp in reply.
"Cluck!"
The human's hand came up to rest upon her feathers, gentle and warm. "You're a very good chicken," he said, decisive. "You wouldn't bite me. I've seen how the other hens avoid you and try to peck you when your back is turned."
She would not bite. She would be a good hen. "Cluck!"
Her eggs were removed from the nest and placed into a basket. Then her feathers were smoothed a final time, a fond farewell before goodbye. The human had saved her nest for last. She watched as he departed from the coop and the pen, an indescribable emotion beating in her breast.
She felt saddened by his departure; she knew what awaited her in his absence. But a part of her was also triumphant, for here was the victory she had achieved: the affections of the other human who minded the pen.
The next day, both humans visited the pen together. She was missing a few feathers from her left wing, a result of last night's skirmish. But her pride was intact—after a few savage retaliations, the rest had let her be.
Previously, she would stay in the coop during such visits, unwilling to risk the wrath of the other hens by joining the tussle for attention outside in the pen. But today there was a reason to venture out. Today, her human was standing out in the pen, waiting for her.
No sooner had she stepped into the daylight did his eyes fix upon her. This emboldened her, gave her the courage to ruffle her feathers and strut the remaining distance to where he stood, towering high above, casting a shadow upon the dirt floor of the enclosure.
"Hello again." He dropped down, legs folding underneath him as he drew near.
On the left side of the pen, the rest of the chickens were clucking around the other human. A few cast glances in her direction, but she ignored them. There was only one focus for her at the moment, and it was not the jealousy that the other chickens of the coop possessed. They had underestimated her human much the way they had underestimated her.
His hand stretched out to pet her feathers. She did not move while he did so, fearful that any motion would imply an attempt at injury.
The touching continued, the strokes rhythmic, and she wondered what it would feel like to be swept into an embrace. The other human had done so before. It was an event associated only with the highest ranking of chickens. An event that could be associated with her, if she continued to behave.
"Tom? What are you doing?"
The hand withdrew sharply, her human's head turning in the direction of the noise. She repressed a chirp of disappointment, waiting to see what would happen.
"I'm tending to the chickens, like you wanted me to."
The other human stepped closer, maneuvering around the chickens that attempted to follow him. "Are you... are you petting that one?" The tone was pitched higher than usual, she noted. It was a different sort of speech than usual.
"I'm checking the feathers for injuries. Remember what happened last week? With those nasty hens." Here her human paused and narrowed his eyes in the direction of the other chickens. "Vicious beasts. I wouldn't trust them around Hyperion."
"That looked like petting to me, Tom. But sure. How are the feathers looking?"
The hand returned, brushing on all sides, searching. But for what? She allowed the touch, rotating as directed, withholding a flinch as those gentle appendages tickled against the sore spots where her wing feathers had been violently removed.
"See?" he said. "Injuries." She could no longer see the face of her human, but she trusted in the kind tone of his speech that he would not harm her like the other chickens had.
Something prodded at her wing, and then the pain vanished, fading to nothing. A hand guided her around, and she met eyes with her human once more. Experimentally, she flapped her wing. It felt wonderful.
"All better."
She clucked once in response and was rewarded with a light touch on her wing.
"That's great." The other human came even closer, peering down at where she and her human were standing together. "You know, I was actually thinking of naming the chickens. Maybe I should start with this one?"
Her human stiffened. "This one already has a name."
She stiffened, too. What was going on? Did the other human want her human to leave? She would be sad if they left, but she knew they would return tomorrow. Now that the other chickens were jealous of her, it would be harder for her to protect both herself and her eggs, but she would do her best.
"What's the name, then?" Again with the funny noises from the other human. She did not trust those sounds.
Bravely, she pulled away from her human's grasp and yelled loudly in the hopes it would scare the other human away from them. "CLUCK!"
Then, quite suddenly, hands seized her on either side, cradling her like she cradled her own eggs, lifting her into the air. Her legs dangled precariously in the air. Such heights! The ground was very far away, but she felt no fear because from just behind her came the sure voice of her lovely human.
"Her name is—"
"Yes?"
"Shut up and let me finish, Harry. Her name is—it's Cluckers. Her name is Cluckers."
Neither human made any further sounds, so she kept silent, too. It was clear to her that the pecking order was about to change. Her human was challenging the other human for control of looking after the coop.
All she could do in this moment was offer her silent support. She was neither large enough nor powerful enough to attack the other human. In fact, it was entirely possible that her human had picked her up in order to protect her.
This thought both baffled her and warmed her. She did not need protecting, but the idea that anyone thought her worth of being looked after made her feathers flutter.
"That's a nice name, Tom." This tone was calm, soft like how she remembered. The other human took a step away, then another, then returned his attention to the rest of the coop.
Her human did not respond. His hands remained clasped around her, holding her securely in place. At this closer distance, she could hear the puffing that signified her human's measured breathing.
After a moment of this, she felt the petting from earlier resume, and so she relaxed. The tension from before was gone, and they were safe. "Do you like that name? Cluckers?"
She chirped quietly in response, unsure what was expected of her. Had her human won the battle for dominance? No blows had been exchanged; the other human had moved away. Then another thought occurred to her: had her human always been in charge of the coop?
That explained the hasty retreat. Her human was brave and strong, and not to be challenged. Pleased with this realization, she clucked a second time, louder than before.
Her human continued to speak in a low voice. "You're a good chicken, Cluckers. You don't peck at me like the others do. All those other chickens—" Here there was a snorting puff of air, then he continued, "All they care for is eating up all the feed and shitting all over the place and trying to kill each other."
In the distance, the other human had finished tidying the inside of the coop and had now moved onto the containers of food and water.
Above her, the talking continued. "You're a smart girl. You know I'm only here to help you."
The gentle petting was soothing. She allowed her eyes to shut, settling her head into a more comfortable position.
"You even tried to yell at Harry for me. Silly girl." There was an edge to this that sounded a little different from the previous talking, but she couldn't quite tell what it was. She hoped it was nice and meant nice things.
"Tom, are you done petting that chicken? I'm done with the feed and the water."
Her human made a disgruntled noise. "Her name, as I said, is Cluckers. I know it may be difficult for you to remember an extra name, but please at least make an attempt at it."
"Are you done petting Cluckers, then?"
"I'm not petting. I'm just making sure the wing healed properly." Then her human set her back down upon the ground. She did not make any noise. The humans were about to depart, and she would be brave while they did so.
"Sure, Tom." The other human looked at her. His eyes shone brightly in the light. "Goodbye, Cluckers. It was nice to meet you."
Her human stood motionless, then said, "Goodbye, Cluckers. I'll see you tomorrow." He marched out of the enclosure.
For a moment, she was sad, though she could not explain why. She watched as the other human exited the pen and locked the gate before moving towards the large structure in the distance. Her human remained by the gate, his eyes fixed on the other human. Then he glanced back at her, and her body relaxed. She had not been forgotten.
Secure in the knowledge that she was still preferred by her human, she hopped over to one of the enclosure walls and sat down. If any chicken dared to come for her, she would be ready. She was no longer afraid, no longer about to sit in the coop in the shade when the glorious sunshine awaited her out here in the pen.
When the sun rose the following morning over the coop, she stretched her wings out. All her feathers were intact, and the other hens remained wary of her. She hopped out of the coop and into the pen, aware of the way the others' beady eyes followed her progress.
There were no eggs to be collected today, but even if there had been, she would have felt safe leaving them unattended. The pecking order had changed overnight. Her human had protected her, had healed her wing feathers. She had nothing to fear from the other chickens anymore.
This realization provoked feelings of recklessness in her that had not existed previously. She would not cower in the face of the other, lesser hens. She would fight back and assume her rightful place at the top of the coop, just as her human had asserted control of the coop the other day.
The rest of the chickens would never harm her human again, not while she lived in this coop to stop it from happening.
When the two humans entered the pen, she presented herself with pride, fluffing her feathers out and trotting towards the gate. Both humans looked down at her, eyes wide. Quickly, then, her human reached for her, picking her up off the dirt floor and holding her up to the sunlight.
"Is that one Cluckers?"
Her human hesitated, pulling her closer to his chest as though to shield her from the other human's words. "Having trouble telling them apart?"
"Just wondering if we were picking favourites." The other human wandered towards the gaggle of chickens congregated by the feed containers and bent to examine them.
"I'm not picking favourites," her human called in a deeper tone. "The other chickens pick on her. I need to make sure that nothing else has happened."
"Chicken doctor," the other human mumbled, then snorted a few times in rapid succession.
Her human ignored the talking, instead running careful hands over her body. But there were no injuries today, she thought proudly. To reassure him, she flapped her wings to show that they were working properly.
"Did those nasty chickens leave you alone?" he said. "That's good. I was thinking about making a separate coop just for you to keep you safe." He pet her neck lightly, then added, "Then I wouldn't have to mind the other ones at all. Harry seems to enjoy vanishing all the poop all by himself, so I don't see why I need to bother."
"We're not having a chicken in the house, Tom," said the other human. "That's where I draw the line. Besides, Hyperion might try to eat her."
"He wouldn't," her human retorted. "I'd tell him not to. And I'm not talking to you, Harry. It's rude to eavesdrop."
"You're the one talking about me," replied the other human in a mild tone. "But alright. Tell her I'm glad she didn't get hurt overnight."
Her human moved a few paces away from the gate, away from the other human. "Harry's irritating, but he usually means well," he told her in a quiet voice. "I don't doubt he is glad you're not injured, but he'd probably be upset if any of the chickens died. He'd take personal responsibility for it even if it wasn't his fault."
She chirped in response, enjoying the low vibrations of his speech as his breath wafted over her head.
One of the hands holding her shifted, nudging her into the fold of her human's arm. Then the hand departed entirely. She squirmed, unable to see where it had gone, but the hand that continued to hold her was firm, so there was no reason to worry.
"I brought you a treat," he continued. "Let me set you back down first."
Slowly, she was lowered back onto the ground. Her neck stretched as she swivelled to face him, curious and confused.
"Some leftovers from breakfast." The hand from before was now swathed in a covering, but resting in the center owas a small amount of round berries.
What a delight! Eagerly she stepped forward and snapped up the fruit, careful not to jab too hard with her beak despite the covering protecting his hand. The other hens would be seething once they saw, she thought pleasantly.
The rest of the visit was spent snacking and being held. When the humans departed the pen, she could not even muster a dollop of sadness. Today had been a perfect day, and tomorrow would only be better.
Time passed in a haze as she solidified her place in the coop and continued to spend her days in the company of her human. Eventually, the weather began to cool. By this point she had learned to recognize the sounds the humans made when they visited the pen—the noises that represented each human individually, and the noise of endearment that was meant specifically for her.
Her nest was always warm, warmer than the others. The other human—'Harry'—would warm the other nests, but her nest was only to be touched by her human. She would not allow Harry near her nest, neither to warm the nest nor to collect her eggs. Her human—'Tom'—rewarded this behaviour with soft sounds and gentle petting.
Harry and Tom often engaged in tussles for dominance for the pen. Fights occurred when they took on tasks together, tasks such as changing the bedding of the coop or cleaning out the food trough. She also noted that despite these disagreements, both humans continued to visit together. Singular visits had grown less and less frequent as the days wore on.
Overall, life in the enclosure was excellent. The coop was comfortable and there was plenty of food for all. Tom continued to visit on a daily basis and provide special treats just for her. She was the most special chicken in the enclosure, the most valued and the most important.
As the temperature continued to drop, many of the chickens began to huddle for warmth. But the thick bedding of the coop was more than enough to keep her content. She only sat with the others when they asked it of her, and even then she did not enjoy it nearly as much as the cuddling she got from her human.
Both Harry and Tom had taken to bringing corn for them to eat in the evenings. The extra food helped keep out the cold, too. The chickens in the enclosure began to settle down, the fights less frequent now that she was the one overseeing everything.
During the day, when the humans were not around, she would sit atop the roost and gaze out at the rest of her surroundings, at the place where the humans lived together. Someday, she vowed, she would leave the coop and live in the large structure.
Winter ended. Spring arrived, and with it came a bountiful harvest of new greens to munch on, and the return of the lovely sun, which shone down with its warm, tender rays.
Tom and Harry visited the pen every day, the pace of their steps matched together. The fights between them were a thing of the past. Both humans seemed content in each other's company. So she no longer snapped at Harry when he drew near, and she consented to being touched so long as she was in Tom's arms.
Then one day, there was a new visitor to the enclosure. A mid-sized snake wrapped around Harry's neck and shoulders. Harry and Tom were arguing again in low voices as they approached the gate.
To her, the cause of the argument was obvious. Tom did not want the snake in the pen where it could harm the chickens. Where it could harm her .
"Don't worry, Tom. Hyperion's not about to eat anybody. You're just fussing."
Both humans paused by the gate. Tom crossed his arms over his chest. "I—I am not. I'm being sensible, Harry. Although I don't see why it is that my pet snake listens to you more than he does to me."
"Hyperion's already promised not to hurt any of the chickens." Harry stroked a hand over the snake's glimmering scales. "You heard him."
The snake let out a hiss that sent chills through her. Then, frighteningly, Tom hissed back. The hissing continued for some time, and then Tom said, "We'll see how they get along."
The gate to the enclosure opened. Harry remained by the gate. The snake wrapped around him flickered a lazy tongue, tasting the air. Tom stepped into the enclosure and began the task of cleaning out the coop.
The other chickens were afraid of the snake and thus stayed away from the gate. Predators were few in this area, but they still existed, visible through the pen their humans had built for them. But she could not, as she had a duty to fulfill to her human. So she stepped bravely out of the coop and into the open where he could see her.
"Cluckers," he greeted as she came into view. "There's a good girl." She recognized the greeting to be her name; she clucked once in response and hopped nearer. "I can't pick you up just yet," he added. "Not until I finish with the containers."
Though the meaning was lost on her, she knew she had to wait for her human to finish the tasks of keeping the coop tidy. So instead she kept her eye on the snake, waiting to see if it would move from its lazy, curled position. The snake did not move much at all, she noted. It seemed content to be held and touched by Harry.
Then, once all the tasks were complete, Tom came to pick her up. She went easily, holding still so he could grasp her securely as she was pulled into the air. "Hello," he said. He smoothed her wing feathers down with one hand. "I've a surprise to show you. Do you want to come?"
"What's the equivalent of Parseltongue for chickens?" Harry called from the gate, interrupting. "Cluckertongue? What's the Latin word for 'chicken'?"
"Ignore him," Tom said to her. "He's only trying to be funny."
She and Tom walked over to the gate. Sensing their approach, the snake raised its head to regard them with shiny eyes. She chirped sharply at it, extending her neck to show her reach. If it came near, she would not hesitate.
"I'm hilarious," Harry said. "Hyperion agrees with me."
"You spoil him," Tom responded, then reached to pet the snake. The snake hissed once; Tom hissed back, and then the snake settled itself back around Harry's shoulders. "Alright. Let's go."
She was offended that Tom had pet the snake and spoken to it, but perhaps that had been to mollify it? The snake had resumed its docile position, its head slouched down like it was about to fall asleep.
Then they began to walk again. Were they going into the humans' home? She craned her neck to look, but it appeared they were moving away from both the large structure and the coop.
As they moved, the humans continued to speak to each other. Thankfully, this conversation contained no hissing.
"I've been reading about magical familiars lately," said Harry. "Since we have longer lifespans than Muggles do, I was curious to see if it was the same for them."
Tom said nothing, but his hands did shift, cradling her closer to his chest.
"They live longer," Harry continued. "Because they absorb some of our magic and it makes them more resilient."
"Fascinating."
"It is! Hyperion will live a lot longer than a normal snake. And Cluckers will live longer, too."
Tom made a funny sound. "I don't suppose you know what breed of chicken we've been housing?"
They passed into an area of tall trees. It was cooler here because of the shade. She took in the sights, only half listening as the conversation lulled, then started back up again.
"I don't remember the exact type," Harry said, "but I know the chickens were picked for their egg production."
"How long are they supposed to live, then? They must have told you that," Tom said. The tone sharp and fast; it unsettled her a little. Her wings twitched, the feathers ruffling. Tom went still, then placed a careful hand on the back of her neck, petting lightly.
"At least five years? Or so. They'll live more if we take good care of them and keep an eye out for sickness. But, um, I think there was the expectation that we'd just breed more chickens as we needed them. They don't produce as much the older they get."
Tom huffed once, and then their pace abruptly increased. The trees around them shifted, blurring as they left Harry and the snake behind. It appeared the conversation was done, at least for the time being.
Shortly after that, Tom stopped walking. Were they at their destination? She stretched her head out to check, but all she could see were more trees.
"I built you a roost here," Tom said. "It's outside of the treehouse, though. Harry thinks you'll make a mess if I let you inside. I told him you wouldn't, but he doesn't believe me. You wouldn't make a mess, would you, Cluckers? You're a good chicken."
Upon hearing her name, she spoke in response, squawking her approval. They moved a few more steps, and then she saw it. There was a structure extending from the base of the tree, perfect for sitting. Tom lowered to the ground and released her so she could run over, wings flapping to boost her upward motion, and settle down on the topmost bar of wood.
A roost just for her, a roost free of the crowding of the other chickens who attempted to sneak the coveted top spots away from her.
"Once Harry stops being stupid, then I'll put the roost inside the treehouse," Tom said.
"Aww, hey! She likes it!"
Tom spun around to the source of the noise. Harry and the snake had caught up to them. The snake slid from Harry's shoulders and onto the ground, rustling through the dirt and leaves on the forest floor as it crawled over to where she and Tom were standing by the tree.
"She'd like it more if it was in the treehouse and not out in the cold."
Harry followed the snake's path towards them. Both the snake and Harry came to a halt a few steps away. "She's not meant to stay here permanently, remember? We'll have to take her back to the henhouse later."
Tom said something else in a low tone, then eyed the snake on the ground. The snake hissed once, head lifting from the ground. Tom hissed back, then knelt down to pick up the snake. It wound around his wrist and travelled up his arm.
She squawked at them both. Didn't Tom see the snake was dangerous? A sneaky creature unworthy of alliance or affections.
"I'll be back in a moment," Tom said to her. "Do not leave the roost." Then he began to ascend the tree. Harry followed behind, leaving her alone at the base of the tree.
She was upset. The snake could converse with both humans, and she could not. And now she had been left behind. Even the roost beneath her could not fully soothe her wounded pride. The snake had been sighted before, but it had never been allowed in the pen; did the snake get to live in the house? She wanted to be in the humans' home. She wanted to be wherever Tom was.
Some time passed. Then Tom returned to her, all of his limbs free of snakes.
Tom came up to the roost and laid a hand on her back. "You'll live longer than the other chickens," he said quietly. "I'll take good care of you. My magic will keep you strong. My magic is stronger than that of other wizards, so you'll live even longer than other magical chickens."
The words were calm. They washed over her like rays of warm sunlight. She fluffed her feathers once to show her appreciation.
"I've never had a real pet before Hyperion and you. Sometimes there were snakes that would come talk to me, but they never stayed very long."
They stayed outside for a while longer, neither of them speaking. Tom leant against the tree bark and continued to pet her every so often. She wondered if Harry and the snake were doing the same thing.
Eventually, both Harry and the snake descended from the tree. Then all four of them went through the forest once again. She was put back into the enclosure by Tom. He said comforting things in his soft voice as he set her down on the ground. Then she watched as the two humans left the pen and carried the snake away with them.
Suddenly, her dreams of living with the humans no longer felt achievable. There was already one animal in the house; they would not need another one. She was sad and angry. But so long as Tom continued to visit her, it would not be so bad.
She could not live in the humans' home, but she could still be special. She could journey through the forest and sit on the special roost; an honour no other chickens had been granted.
Confidence partially restored, she returned her attention to what events had occurred here in the pen during her brief absence. She needed to ensure that all the chickens behaved properly.
It would not do for Tom to return tomorrow and see she had failed to manage her group. The warmer weather was making some of them bold. She would have to remind them of their place in the coop, and that meant some pecking and biting would have to occur.
Any chicken that dared set a toe out of line would find themselves in a precarious situation. She would make sure of it.
The sun rose early the next morning. She woke to crowing. The evening had passed with a few tussles here and there. Nothing out of the ordinary, but she was still concerned. The restlessness did not bode well. Soon, some fight would break out, and there would be bloodshed.
Tom and Harry were always displeased when any of the chickens died. She was not sure exactly how she knew this, but something about their voices and their actions conveyed disappointment.
She tried her best to keep the chickens in line, but some things were unavoidable. She hoped that Tom would not be upset with her if something bad happened.
When Tom and Harry came to visit the pen, they were in high spirits. Harry was carrying the usual supply of food and water, and Tom was carrying an extra container full of treats. The chickens swarmed, crowding around as they jostled for attention.
She held back, patient, knowing that Tom would save the most special treats for her.
Those round berries that she preferred, or a selection of worms for her to peck at. She was excited to see what he had brought her.
Harry finished with his tasks and went to clean the coop. Tom was still surrounded by chickens, all of them pecking at the fresh corn he dropped down for them to eat. Soon, though, the corn feeding was done. The empty container vanished, and then he began to look around for her.
She clucked happily as he came over to her, and clucked again when he greeted her. "Hello, Cluckers. Good morning to you, too."
Some of the other chickens had followed him over. They were hoping for more corn. Well, there was no more corn, and whatever Tom had brought was only for her. They ought to go and bother Harry instead.
"Shoo," Tom said to them, making a motion with his hand. Some of the chickens flapped away. He looked back at her for a moment before he dropped down, closer to her height level.
Then, lo and behold, his hand held out a selection of dark berries. She leapt forward and snapped them up with care. His hand came to rest gently on her back while she ate. So engrossed was she in his attention that she failed to notice the other hen that remained standing a pace away.
A loud 'cluck' drew both her attention and Tom's. The petting paused as Tom regarded the other hen. The other hen stared back at them both.
She was offended. No other chicken had ever dared to come this close, to interrupt the time she got to spend with her human. This was an offense of the highest magnitude. Of all the crimes committed in the enclosure, this was by far the most shocking of them all.
She was the undisputed ruler of the coop. She had been ever since Tom had chosen her as his favourite. This was a blatant disrespect of her position, a disrespect that angered her. She squawked at the other hen; a warning to stay away.
The other hen fluffed feathers in response, beak raised high and mighty. A prettier beak than her own.
Tom made a sound, his hand smoothing her feathers. Then he turned to face the other hen.
"Shoo," he said. Then his hand tossed out a berry, which flew across the space and then some, landing on the ground and rolling a great distance away.
She watched the path of the berry, transfixed, horrified.
That was for her! It was not for the other chickens.
Tom resumed his petting and held out more berries, but she was distraught. She was too distracted to eat. All she could think of was the devious, calculating look in the eyes of the other hen.
Did they think she was replaceable? Did they think Tom would ever prefer any chicken other than her?
Tom must have sensed her distress. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms while he made soothing noises. She tried to calm herself, to enjoy the time they had together, but it was too difficult.
The other hen would have to pay. Only then would her rank be safe, and only then would she be satisfied.
The following morning, Tom and Harry came to visit as they usually did. What was unusual, however, was the lifeless corpse laid out like a warning sign near the front gate. There had not been a murder in the coop for months, not since she had taken control of the masses.
Harry knelt down and placed a gentle hand atop the motionless hen. "Oh, no. Tom, I think she's dead."
Tom had already moved past the body and was scanning the rest of the birds in the pen. He was looking for her. She felt smug about this. His gait quickened with worry as he moved closer. To reassure him, she stepped out into view.
"Cluckers!" Tom bent low to scoop her up. "Did those nasty birds hurt you?" he asked in a low voice, running a hand over her head. "If they harmed you, I'll make them pay."
She clucked in response, pleased that the threat of the other hen had been eliminated, thus securing her place in the coop and in the eyes of the humans.
Tom continued to drag careful fingers over her, checking for injuries. "Is that blood?" His hands paused, then prodded lightly. "Harry! There's blood on her." Tom whirled around and marched over to where Harry was still examining the other chicken. "She doesn't seem hurt, though. The blood must have gotten on her when the murder happened."
"Murder," Harry repeated. Then he shook his head. "They're just chickens! I don't understand it."
It was then that she noticed the snake lurking just beyond the gate of the pen. It was watching them, long tongue flickering ominously in the air. She was glad the snake was on the other side of the pen, but seeing it at all gave her a sense of unease.
"There hasn't been any deaths in months," Tom said. His hands resumed their usual petting of her feathers. "We need to find out which chicken did it and remove them from the coop to keep the rest of the chickens safe."
Harry pursed his lips and stood up. His eyes looked at her, then at Tom. "You're right. I think we should have Hyperion take a look. He'll have a better idea of which one the predator is than we will."
Tom went motionless for a second. "Alright. I suppose that does make sense."
Harry stepped over to the gate and unlatched it. "If the chickens get upset, I'll stun them."
Tom let out a soft hiss, and then the snake slithered into the pen, aura radiating confidence. She knew she was safe in her owner's arms, but the other chickens were not so lucky. The other birds shrunk back, hopping away from the open space and back towards the coop, squawking all the while.
"Don't worry," Tom said, voice returning to normal as he addressed her. "He won't harm you or anyone else."
Harry followed the snake into the pen. Some of the chickens craned their necks out, watching, waiting. She, too, was curious about what would happen. Was the snake here to kill more of the other chickens? The snake had visited enough times that she was familiar with it, but never before had the snake been allowed free in the pen.
The snake flickered its tongue out and out and out, tasting the air. Its shiny eyes fixed upon each of the chickens in turn, sizing them up. For a moment, she was sure that someone was about to be eaten, to be given over to this predatory creature as some kind of reward.
Soon, though, the examination came to an end. The snake hissed, long and low, then wrapped itself around Harry's leg and crawled up until its body was draped in its customary position around Harry's shoulders.
Harry hissed back, then said aloud in a pitched tone, "None of them? But how?" The snake hissed a second time. Harry's mouth curled downwards. "Maybe it was a predator from the woods, then."
"Don't be ridiculous. It has to be one of these birds," Tom said. "We've been in the woods many times. I have never seen anything that suggested the presence of foxes, or any other carnivorous animals. You even said that they did a search of the area before they sealed us off."
"I mean, maybe something got through?" Harry cast a look at the dead chicken. "Hyperion doesn't seem to think any of the chickens here did it."
Tom did not respond, but his hands paused in their movements. "Then perhaps he's mistaken."
From this angle, the hen she had killed appeared a great deal smaller. Its body was so fragile, so delicate, limp and spotted with blood. Why had the humans not taken it away?
She made a noise of concern, wishing that she could communicate to Tom and find out what was going on. Tom shushed her absently, laying a hand on her left wing, holding her in place. He, like Harry, was looking at the dead hen.
But why? Why were they looking at the hen? Previous murders had been dealt with quickly, the body removed from the pen with great speed. What made this time dfferent? Why had the snake been allowed in the pen?
Then, slowly, the actions of the humans—and the snake—came together, forming a single concept in her mind. The reason behind the examination of the coop and the dead hen. The reason why the snake had been allowed in the pen. Harry and Tom were attempting to discover the cause of the hen's death.
The snake had looked at all the chickens to find which one had committed the murder.
All the chickens except her.
"I think we should let Hyperion look at Cluckers," said Harry.
"No," Tom said loudly. Then, at a lower volume, "She's fine, I told you. She's not hurt."
"We need to let him look at all the evidence. And you know he won't hurt her."
Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Fine. But I want to hold her while he looks. She might get frightened."
Harry spoke to the snake, which lifted its head up to stare at her. Then Harry stepped closer, closer, closer, walking right up to them, bringing the snake towards them. Bringing the snake towards her.
There had been little reason for her to feel fear over the past few months, but now a bit of that familiar emotion was creeping back into her. Her feathers quivered despite her best efforts. She wanted to snap at it, to peck and bite the scaly creature until it went away, but she knew she had to hold still. She had to be a good girl, as Tom would expect her to be. Even if doing so would result in her ultimate downfall.
"Hold still, please," Tom said to her. "It will be over very soon."
Harry made a sound. "You don't say 'please' to me very often, but you say it to a chicken. Should I be offended?"
"Yes," Tom said, arms tensing. "Yes, you should. Even... even if Cluckers did hurt the other hen, it would not have been done on purpose. It would have been in self-defense. I told you, I saw the other chickens pick on her before. She's a good girl. She doesn't mean any harm to anyone. She just wants to be left alone."
"I... see. I see what you mean." Harry stopped a few steps away. "But if she did do something, then the best thing for us to do is to give her the proper care and attention she needs, right?"
"...Yes."
"Okay. So we'll have Hyperion look her over, real quick, and then decide what to do from there."
Harry moved closer; the snake was now within striking distance. She held her breath, unwilling to let her fear be known. She would not balk in the face of this. She would not apologize for her actions. She had done nothing wrong.
The snake drifted towards her with agonizing slowness. It did not touch her, but it scented her, its body swaying around and around, focusing on those spots where the hen's blood had touched her.
Then, after an eternity, it pulled back just enough to gaze into her eyes. And she knew, she knew, that this terrible snake had figured out that she had killed the hen. The snake would tell the humans, and then she would fall from grace, from her exalted position in the pecking order. She would lose all that she had fought so hard to gain.
The snake hissed, an extended monologue that hurt her head to hear. Harry and Tom listened intently until the hissing ended. And then…
And then there was silence.
"See," Tom said eventually. "She didn't do it. Even Hyperion says so."
Harry remained where he was for a moment, then went to hover over the hen's body. His stick of wood appeared in his hand, and then the body levitated into the air. Strips of cloth appeared as well, wrapping around the hen and covering it from sight. "I can take care of the hen. Can you finish up here while I'm gone?"
"Of course. Also, now that we have settled matters," Tom said. "I think we can all agree that the coop is not a safe place to be. From now on, Cluckers is going to stay with me."
"Tom," Harry said. "We can't keep a chicken in the house. They're not house pets."
"They're not if you're a Muggle. I am perfectly capable of constructing a separate living space for her to thrive in."
Harry strode over to the gate, unlatching it for the second time. "Okay. But she's your responsibility."
Both she and Tom watched as Harry left the pen. Once the gate had closed once more, Tom sighed and turned to face the coop. "Time to clean, I suppose."
Tom created a plank for her to sit on while he went about cleaning the coop and refilling the containers. She did not know exactly what had happened, or what the snake had told them, but everything was normal. Tom spoke to her in the same warm tone he always did, and the rest of the chickens were looked after as usual.
When Tom was finished with his tasks, he came over and picked her up again. "Now we go home. Hopefully Harry has finished with his chicken funeral by now. I do not particularly feel like pretending to be sad today."
She clucked at him, stretching her neck out to rub her head against his shoulder, hoping that her affection was clear.
Tom patted her back, then proceeded to the gate.
To the gate.
She could not believe it. They were leaving the pen together. Where were they going?
The fear from before was back. Though she knew Tom would never harm her, she was concerned. Were they going to the special place in the woods? The place with the roost?
Tom walked. She lifted her head from his shoulder, stretching, and saw—
She saw the house. The great, glorious structure where the humans lived together. They were moving towards it!
Her heart fluttered. Finally, she was going where she belonged. She was being rewarded after her many, many days of suffering outside in the coop.
Tom opened the door. They moved into the new space, which was much larger than she could have imagined. Everything here was new and exciting! So much to look at, so much to explore. It was not the open green pastures that other chickens often dreamed of. It was strange and foreign and beautiful.
Ecstatic, she clucked happily at Tom, determined to express her gratefulness.
"Harry still hasn't returned," Tom said to her. "I can start on lunch, then. Perhaps he'll feel better about having you in the house once he's had something to eat, hmm?"
With that, Tom gave her a last caress and set her down on the floor. "Stay here," he said. Then he closed the door on the far side, effectively trapping them both in their current area. "I don't think Harry would be happy if I let you near the couches."
She stretched her legs out, feet tapping against the ground. The ground was very hard and solid. Not unlike the roost. Further ahead, there were more wooden structures. Her beak twitched. Her claws twitched. Time to explore.
"Tom? Tom, where are you?" Harry pushed open the front door and shuffled into the house. The process of burying the hen had taken longer than usual. The dirt space next to the other buried chickens had been hard to shovel through.
"In the kitchen, Harry," called Tom's voice.
Hyperion dropped from Harry's shoulders and onto the ground, slithering off. Harry shed his jacket, then followed Hyperion down the hall, noting that the kitchen door was shut. Probably to keep Cluckers from getting out, Harry mused.
When Harry opened the kitchen door, he saw that Tom was in the middle of making lunch. Spaghetti with tomato sauce, from what Harry could see and smell.
Tom looked up as Harry entered. "How was it?"
Harry shrugged. "It's done. I just hope it doesn't happen again."
Tom scoffed. "Oh, it will. Trust me. One death is not enough to satisfy these bloodthirsty things."
Harry had, up until this point, contributed Tom's morbidly negative view of chickens to the fact that Tom was simply that sort of person. To be more specific, the sort of person who grew up to become a dark lord. But now that yet another chicken had died, probably at the claws and beak of Tom's beloved Cluckers, Harry was beginning to rethink that. Just a little.
"Did you need help with anything?" Harry asked.
"I am nearly done," Tom said, sounding offended. "Go and sit down, Harry."
"Er, alright. Thank you for making lunch."
Tom seemed mollified by this, his expression smoothing out. Harry smiled to make sure Tom knew his efforts were appreciated. Making meals was usually Harry's job, though Tom had been hanging about the kitchen more often over the past while. Maybe Tom had taken a liking to cooking after all. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. The rhythm they had—Harry cooking, Tom doing dishes—was familiar, comforting.
Now that everything was overlapping, Harry was less sure where they stood with each other. They weren't moving in a bad direction, but was it a good direction? It was hard to tell.
Tom could be snappish sometimes, almost randomly so. Harry did his best to work around that, to figure out the reasons behind Tom's sour moods, to unearth the minutiae, the inner workings of Tom's mind. To find out how a boy like Tom could end up as someone like Lord Voldemort.
Harry didn't think he had all the answers yet, but maybe someday he would.
"You're welcome," Tom said, a beat too late to be considered normal, but that Tom was even saying it at all was a balm to Harry's heart. To think they had started off in this place by fighting with each other. Things were much better now. Harry was willing to see where it all led.
Satisfied, Harry turned away from the kitchen.
Now, the kitchen had been perfectly, absolutely normal. The dining room, on the other hand, was absolutely not. Harry's jaw dropped. The hardwood floor was all marked up, the table had gouge marks—peck marks?—on it, and right in the middle of it all was Cluckers.
Cluckers, who was fluffing her feathers at Hyperion and displaying no fear at the sight of the snake.
"What the hell?" Harry said aloud.
"I told you, Harry, I'm keeping her in the house."
"Tom," Harry said, incredulous, "have you looked at this room?"
"Cluckers is fine. I can hear her moving about while I cook. If there is a mess, I'll vanish it, I promise. Now sit down and—"
Harry stared at the floor. And the table legs. And then he realized that from where Tom was standing on the other side of the kitchen island, it was likely that Tom could not see any of the damage that had occurred at ground level.
Hyperion slid over to Cluckers. Harry opened his mouth to tell the snake to stop it, that Cluckers wasn't meant to be eaten or bitten because then Tom would be sad, but then a miracle occurred.
Cluckers hopped right over and allowed the snake to climb onto her. Hyperion curled loosely around Cluckers' delicate form and settled his head next to her long neck, like they were two puzzle pieces that had discovered they could fit together.
This was terrible. Harry was outnumbered. Tom thought his beautiful murder chicken could do no wrong, and Hyperion had apparently made a new best friend. There was going to be chicken poop all over the house with no one to stop it from happening because Harry was too nice to kick Cluckers out of the house.
"Ten more minutes," Tom said cheerfully from the kitchen.
Harry pulled out his wand and set about repairing the damage to the room while both animals sat idly by. Terrible. Awful. Chickens were not house pets. Tom was a crazy person.
Though... both Hyperion and Cluckers did look rather cute together. Harry cleared off the scratch marks on the floor by his feet and resigned himself to his fate. Hopefully some of the books Hermione had left them would explain how to chicken proof a house.
.
END.
A/N:
sometimes,,, a family can be two boys, their pet snake, and their pet chicken. 💞
reviews are appreciated! :)
find me on tumblr at duplicitywrites, or in my discord server (where i livewrote this mess) with invite code 6jcu8qM