Macavity clicked his beak, thinking. Within the tower, the entire Parliament continued its discourse, assigning hunting territories and demoting those with regressing behavioral proclivities. An owl did enjoy a nice, fat, bat once in a while, but lurking outside the small dwellings humans made for them Just Was Not Done. A few weeks on vermin patrol in the western Lake region would encourage a return to proper manners.

An irritated clicking brought his attention back to the matter at hand. A large robe lay under-talon, rumpled by rapid passage. No doubt the squeaking Not-Vermin would miss it, but at that point there would be no point, which was the point.

What were they to do about this?

Hedwig tilted her head, canting it in an annoyed fashion. He couldn't blame her; they'd debated the question for several months. Only now had they moved to acquire the first step to the plan, and now they'd lacked sufficient materials to continue.

Sudden movement in a Committee across the owlery gave both of them something else to think about. It seemed a finer point of dialogue was being pontificated by one of the pocket owls, a Speaker of the miniature barn owls Assembly, resembling the wizard with a round hat he'd heard the Ministry owls whine about so often. The man lacked understanding when it came to owls: he provided no treats, possessed no stand, and had job-eliminated an entire Parliament after taking offense at their usage of striking bargaining power.

Uncivilized, that man.

After witnessing the tiny owl batter the other senseless with its wings, Macavity resumed studying the garment. It was large, dark, and rumpled. The latter couldn't be helped; wizards lacked feathers and so were forced to cover their shame with false fabrics. But this was a problem.

Hedwig clicked again at his side, thinking aloud. Was it not possible, to emulate the Lord Slytherin by utilizing two owls?

He considered the suggestion, then lifted the hood with one foot. It lofted several inches, then fell, less than one human arm.

She agreed with his logic, but countered: what if multiple owls were to fill its volume? At a distance, humans lacked the keen eyesight owls possessed.

Macavity concurred, but pointed out the obvious. Wizard vision was keen enough to understand the clear superiority of owls, or else they would not have become such capable benefactors. Of course they lacked flight, keen vision, or the proper comprehension of what went on in the world around them; that didn't mean humans were entirely stupid.

Hedwig's face tipped down, acquiescing the thrust of his argument.

A flurry of wings buzzed overhead, the posterior pinions brushing against Macavity's head. He bore it, stoically. One did not eviscerate the fool for being a fool, else there would be nothing but entrails and offal everywhere.

He did, however, cuff the small owl as it landed. It rolled with the blow, taking up position in the center.

What were they doing? Pigwidgeon wondered. Why had they taken a human's robe? Were they preparing to nest?

This time Hedwig buffeted the smaller owl, a mild repudiation considering. It was clear they needed a diversion, something to distract the humans in their constant denial of reality. Owls needed sustenance, and vermin were the bare minimum. Entertaining, but murder on the digestive tract.

The tiny owl's eyes widened. Of course they needed a distraction. Why not just drop one of the beings cursed with too many legs in the main courtyard? That would cause a disturbance, and then the faster owls could swoop into the kitchens, liberating the tenderest of—

Macavity didn't bother physical means of communication. He just looked at him.

Pigwidgeon flittered a step further, then drooped, apologizing. Thinking with his stomach was far too easy before mealtimes.

That was all too true, Hedwig nodded.

But then the miniature owl shot upright again. If they acquired assistance from other owls, they could generate sufficient distraction. Filling the robe with essence of Dark would be needed, and what better than to send the robe through the Dark portions of the tree mass?

Before Macavity could begin correcting the small one, Pigwidgeon blasted from a standing start, diving off the edge towards the mobile collective which was the Ways and Means Committee.

Hedwig winced. Macavity stared, fascinated.

The tiny owl exploded into the Committee meeting far below, colliding with three separate Elders before bowling over the Speaker. Outrage faded into puzzlement as Pigwidgeon asserted his right to address the Assembly, battering the Speaker's ovoid skull with surprising enthusiasm. No one moved to counter his opinion, and the tiny owl soon hopped upon the insensate victim's form, delivering his address with great speed.

In minutes the rest of the Committee appeared to understand the gist, and began debate amongst themselves. Several feathers drifted free, indicating the fervor involved. Feather-pulling was allowed, but such activity had to be kept in check. They were civilized beings, unlike vermin. Foul creatures, vermin, worse even than the clowders whom thought themselves so superior.

Hedwig made an uneasy motion. There were many issues with their plan. Informing the entire Parliament was not part of it, which would either provide a tailwind or a tempest strong enough to ground their entire scheme.

Wings fanned to life, as the Ways and Means Committee performed their function, disseminating data to the rest of the Parliament at large. Those outside on patrol would be informed later, or brought in if their counsel were deemed necessary.

A swirl of flying bodies began to create a whorl around the owlery's interior. Snatches of communication could be understood. Various methods for acquiring benefits, using distractions; personal benefits could not be underestimated, but benefiting the entirety of Hogwarts was of even greater importance. Ever since the owls had become masters of the place, it had been under their constant protection – this scheme could build upon that greatness.

Macavity sat back, lowering himself on his haunches. Hedwig settled nearby, watching. Both kept a keen eye out for counterarguments, witnessing intercepted comments as Pigwidgeon continued his wild flight, colliding with naysayers and convincing them of the error of their ways.

Eventually, the owls settled once more, attaining appropriate perches in order of station. Each Committee reported back to the Parliament, conveying their deliberations. One by one, from Appropriations to Urban Affairs, ending with the same Ways and Means that had started the entire discussion, they agreed.

Both Macavity and Hedwig held back a sigh of relief. But the reduced tension was strong, indeed.

Pigwidgeon fluttered up, accompanied by a dozen other owls, specialists in their fields. He gave them his bright-eyed attention. When could they start work?

Macavity decided to reduce his number of remonstrances against the tiny owl.

[break]

Their first efforts were lackluster. Hedwig was certain she could guide them, and he was able to support the three, but Pigwidgeon's presence as the torso of the borrowed robes lacked a certain – presence. Sven, the oversized Eurasian Eagle-owl, was of no help. His laughter at their appearance caught the attention of far too many eyes.

With care, they managed to guide their unwieldy garb through the passageway, lofting through the opening with almost no connection whatsoever. The robes filled out with the rushing wind, improving aerodynamic lift, catching the uplifting breeze that pushed their entire group faster than if they'd been alone.

Macavity pushed, strong wingbeats thrusting the lower robes through the air. Pigwidgeon's flailing had the unexpected benefit of countering the wild twisting caused by empty fabric, and they were soon winging over the Ministry structure. This next part would be the most critical stage of the plan, one deliberated upon for weeks by the various Committees.

Through wisdom, the original entrances had never been sealed. Wiser heads than that of the wizard in the green hat had prevailed.

In they swept, unexpected levels of dust raising clouds around them as they traveled. Robes were great catchers of debris, Macavity noted. Far superior than wings, which was to be expected. Dust was created by wizards; therefore their own shame-coverings would be superior in collecting the same.

A harsh bark from before warned him a split-second before they tumbled into the basement of the Ministry. A miniature mushroom cloud of dust billowed into the room, sending clouds of the asthmatic-inducing haze everywhere.

"He's back! He's here again!" Macavity heard someone shout.

There was no time to discuss the delicate trains of logic that lead them there. Restitution for owls was due, and it was due now. He gave a commanding shriek, pushing forward once again. Ahead, Hedwig bobbed agreement, lifting off while Pigwidgeon continued his frantic movements. At this juncture, Macavity wasn't quite certain how the small owl had managed to tangle himself into the armholes, but if it worked, it worked.

Through the halls they swept, trailing a swath of dust. Some of the pathetic replacements used instead of owls became caught in their passage, owl-shaped bits of paper twisting and uncurling as their magic disseminated into their path. More dust gathered, attracted to the gravity-defying magics, expelling repulsive forces as ever more artificial owls were caught in their train. By now they'd crushed at least three dozen of the pointed-nose messages, and with a quick swerve, Hedwig's pathing had snared another small flock.

Hooting approval, Macavity backwinged left, swinging their oversized form around a corner into a room with plentiful shinies. A common jackdaw would be overwhelmed with the things, rendered stupified by the presence of so much glitter. Owls were far more intelligent, capable of reasoned judgement and-

The small middle of the robes burst open. Pigwidgeon cannoned out of the robes, diving straight for the dangling Time-Turners, ecstatic hoots echoing throughout the chamber.

Macavity withdrew his former opinion. Idiots deserved a few good smacks, in order to help their brain cells restart.

A chilling screech from the head warned Macavity that they had company. He ducked low, bringing the robes lower end almost to the floor. At the same time, Hedwig soared upwards, stretching the fabric thin. Then the opening in the center torso snapped open, filling the robe with air, slowing their progress.

Seconds later a blood-curdling scream emanated from the front. Macavity paused to look. Ahead, a human pointed his wand at them, shaking in bursts of red light penetrated the center, making miniscule holes in the back. Another jet of ice-blue power emanated through the back without touching the material, enveloping the first wizard in a block of ice.

Macavity whistled sharply. This was getting too far out of hand. Hedwig barked acknowledgement. Between the two of them, they managed to snap the robes open at just the right moment, capturing Pigwidgeon in his multiple necklace-enchained splendor, doing a double barrel roll to twist the fabric tight around his form.

A muffled protest came from the center. Then, Macavity felt a gut-wrenching twist, as if he was currently in place, but of equal certainty about two hundred miles east of where he currently was. The world made swirling motions around him, bending in ways stone and earth could not – other than that one time he'd accidentally ingested a multi-colored snack from the Red-Head Terrors.

That had been an experience.

Weight fell upon him. Squalling from something miniature and whiny; indignant from something large and white. Pigwidgeon and Hedwig then, somehow they had lost their balance. Understandable since they were confined by the robes.

He managed to claw his way out, and found himself staring up at the setting sun. Confused, he glanced back at the robe, where Hedwig looked blearily out from under the hood. Her confused gaze fixated on him, then at the sky, then back at him.

Macavity shrugged. This wasn't his doing.

Another impatient squalling heralded the exit of Pigwidgeon. He made a victorious leap as the restraining material parted, letting him fly free – until one of the Time-Turner chains caught on a button. Suddenly tethered, the tiny owl made a tiny squawk before making a sharp arc, landing on the ground. Headfirst. On a rock.

The small owl needed a nap, after such a stressful day. He chose to take it, right then and there.

Clicking epithets under his breath, Macavity stalked closer, and removed the loops from around the pocket-sized owl's body. Each chain was released with care – until he froze.

Time-Turners.

Sunset.

Time-Turners.

A setting sun, when they had set out at night.

Time-Turners.

He turned towards Hedwig, chirruping a low question.

Hedwig managed to pull herself free from the hood, giving it a disdainful swat of the wing. She turned back, glaring until noticing his serious expression. It took a moment's further thought before she, too, made the connection.

Together, they extracted the Time-Turners, latching them into place with some difficulty. Then they sat and contemplated. As one they eyed the Lord Slytherin robes, then the Time-Turners, at times looking up at the tower where their earlier forms could be seen. As the sky grew darker, their resolve grew.

This. This could be useful.