Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a lonely Slytherin 5th year who has befriended an eagle owl. The owl likes to look after Arthur as much as he can and it seems that he has a plan to find him a friend...

Just remember that the owls in this story are all magic. ;)

Arthur Kirkland was the second youngest of six and had had very little to call his own. His older brothers' robes had been altered to fit his smaller frame. Fiona had given him her books with the notes in the margins, crossed out and written over until illegible. The trunk may have had the initials AK but that was for Andrew and not Arthur. David had handed over spare bits of parchment and odds and ends from his limited apothecary as well as what had once been a handsome quill. Sean's cauldron was the only one which had managed to survive seven years at Hogwarts and was the newest: since he was so busy with his new job at St. Mungo's, Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland had taken it without his knowledge.

His wand was the first thing that was truly his own: chestnut, phoenix feather core, nine inches and slightly springy. As soon as he touched the wand, he knew he would treasure it for the rest of his life.

When they finished buying the wand, he read over the letter to make sure he had everything, ever meticulous in his planning. Arthur noted that they were allowed to take an owl with them and excitedly pointed it out to his mother. "I'm sorry, darling," she said, sadly. "We can't afford another owl and we need Wensleydale at home..."

"It's all right, Mum," he said, smiling as brightly as he could with his chest constricting. After all, he knew how hard both his parents worked – his mother kept the house and chased after all of the children; his father was low down in the Department of Intoxicating Substances, working ceaselessly in an effort to be either promoted or paid overtime. It wasn't his place to demand favours as he already owed them so much.

So off to Hogwarts he had gone, no owl in sight. On the train, he had met two nice first years both of whom quietly studied their books for the whole trip. Arthur did the same and, though Kiku and Lukas had seemed like people he could be friends with, they hadn't become particularly close before being Sorted into different Houses. Both of them went into Ravenclaw whilst Arthur was put into Slytherin.

He had been shocked at that outcome, convinced he would end up in Gryffindor like his brothers and sister before him. As it was, he was apparently clever and sly enough to end up in Slytherin. Later, curled on his bed amongst entitled, rich Pure-bloods, he had realised that what the Hat said was true. Being the youngest (bar Peter whom his mother adored and barely let out of her sight), his siblings had picked on him as an easy target. He gave as good as he got, pranking them in kind whenever he could but in such a way that they would never be able to tell who it was. Arthur tended to wait for days before getting his revenge, a trait which was obviously more suited for Slytherin than Gryffindor. With that realisation, he had fallen asleep on his first night in the castle with hope and a sense of pride.

The next day he wished he was at home with his mother as the bullying started. His fellow Slytherins hated him for being so poor and unable to 'own' his own house-elf. They didn't like him speaking to Kiku when they had classes together – not that Kiku kept up the conversation more than polite acknowledgements. Everyone else in their year didn't seem to trust or want to associate themselves with him, even after he distanced himself from the rest of his House.

Alfred F. Jones, a Gryffindor first year, was the worst, though. He still conformed to the Gryffindors being the heroes and the Slytherins being the 'bad guys'. Arthur hated him from the moment Alfred first bumped into him in the hallway and sent him flying, his books going everywhere. Everyone had laughed and Arthur had to refrain from hanging him upside down in mid-air, since he knew the spell already. There was no doubt in his mind that the crowd wouldn't side with him. That didn't mean he didn't get his revenge as Alfred discovered the next week when his bag was suddenly filled with worms once Arthur had gotten close enough to use the spell.

Since they all rejected him, he took to exploring the castle on his own. He found a lot of secret passageways which helped him get to classes quicker. Once he spent a Saturday in the trophy room, reading all the trophies over and over till he had memorised all the names and achievements. He found abandoned classrooms which he made into his own space each time he visited, conjuring up pretty decorations and a small, contained fire.

Then he found his way to the Owlery and he instantly felt at ease. There were barn owls and small owls, tawny owls and the odd snowy owl. But the one he found most impressive was the single and unique eagle owl. Arthur had no idea what its name was but he had managed to win the bird over with treats he secreted from the kitchen (he had a lot and had thanked the house-elves multiple times before he escaped their generosity). It didn't take him long to make a friend in the owl and he began to visit every day, talking to it animatedly about everything: his classes, his achievements, the bullying he didn't dare tell his family about, his fears, his hopes and dreams.

"Well, Mister Eagle," said Arthur as he entered the large and airy room, five years later, "it's definitely a delight to be speaking to someone so intelligent today." He used a scouring charm on the floor to clear the area of owl droppings and sat, smiling when Mister Eagle swooped down to sit beside him. As usual, Arthur opened his palm to reveal some sugar cubes, something he had discovered the owl liked, oddly enough. Mister Eagle quickly gulped one down before cocking his head.

Grinning, Arthur nodded. "Yes, you certainly are. After all, those nincompoops in Divination make it so difficult to concentrate. Honestly! How can anyone seek to Divine their love fortune if they can't even do the basics?"

Mister Eagle hooted, sounding understanding.

"I'm glad you think so. I can't get that bloody Jones to shut up: it annoys me that he thinks he can actually pass the class." Arthur paused, watching Mister Eagle gobble up another sugar cube. "Actually, I suppose he might. I don't think they're too strict with it – it is sort of a woolly subject, what with the professors not being able to actually see what we're seeing or interpreting it differently. He'll probably pass, dammit. I hope he drops out by N.E.W.T.s because I really don't want to hear his voice while I'm honing my skills.

"Though, I do wish I could see more than owls when I do it. That's all I see, you know," he informed Mister Eagle with a slight frown. "That's your fault; if I hadn't met you, I wouldn't come up here so often. And that's why I keep seeing them. That and a lion but I can't quite make out what that means. My best guess is that I will be given new knowledge of some kind and then I will have to have courage to do something."

Arthur stared out of the window at the grey clouds, his mind turning back to what he had seen in the crystal balls most recently. "The owl landed on the lion's back..." Something he had never seen it do before. It was strange... What could it mean? Then he shook his head, deciding to forget about it for the moment, and glanced down to see Mister Eagle in the process of swallowing another cube. "You're going to get ill if you keep that up!" he scolded the bird.

An unconcerned hoot was his answer. Arthur chuckled and watched Mister Eagle gulp down the last two cubes. With his hand free, Arthur began to stroke the owl's brown plumage, his smile slowly falling. Sighing, he wished he could gather the courage to hug the owl. He always stopped himself because he didn't want to assume he had the right just because he visited every day.

"I saw Kiku today," he told Mister Eagle, staring at a small owl which had just flown in through a window. "He was talking to Jones again. When I went past, Jones glared at me and Kiku looked away." Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "I hate this place. I can't wait till I leave. Not that being at home helps, especially with Peter mocking me, the little brat." Peter loved to make fun of him for being the only Slytherin in the family. His other brothers were mean about it, too, but they weren't around enough to do anything. Only his parents seemed to like him – but not as much as they liked Peter.

Upset, Arthur removed his hand from the owl's head and curled up, hugging his knees. With his forehead resting on them, he took several deep breaths. "Is it too much to ask for a friend? Or even to be able to disappear?" He lifted his head. "Well, not really disappear. That can be done with a simple spell, of course, but I mean at least be able to get away when people are being berks. I asked Professor Rattigan if he could help me become an Animagus but I have to wait till after my O.W.L.s. If I had a friend I could do it now..."

There was a hoot and, when he glanced at Mister Eagle, he hopped up onto Arthur's knees. Tilting his head, he gave another questioning hoot. Laughing, Arthur nodded. "Yeah, but it's kind of dangerous. I don't want to get stuck as a mouse or a rabbit or something as ridiculous as that for the rest of my life. And you can't help me either."

He paused and tilted his own head. "Though, I suppose, you're quite right. I've got you as a friend. I don't need anyone else. Once I've gotten through my N.E.W.T.s and left, I'll make sure to be in a job where they'll all regret ignoring me."

Mister Eagle gave a sad hoot, almost as though he was sighing. Arthur wondered if he wasn't as tuned into what he was saying as he thought. Perhaps he had missed the point. Before he could ask, Mister Eagle dropped from his legs and spread his wings. With a few slow flaps, he flew to a window where he perched on the ledge. Twisting his head around, the owl stared at him for a few seconds before turning his head to look out again. Another hoot had Arthur scrambling to his feet to see what his friend could see.

From this angle, Arthur could see the Quidditch pitch. People in yellow robes were darting around, a little dot of red passing between them. It looked as though the Quidditch try-outs were under way. A little line of people in blue robes were on their way there, sticks of brown over their shoulders. Arthur frowned: weren't the Slytherin try-outs today? Why were the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws out there? Had there been a mix-up?

Hooting, Mister Eagle caught his attention and Arthur looked around at him to find him staring, unblinking. Arthur blinked and then shook his head. "No way," he told the bird. "I'm not going to try again. They never pick me – they hate me. Besides, they might not get to do it today. Look at that." He gestured down at where people in red robes were making their way across the grounds.

Without warning, Mister Eagle gave a strange noise and pecked at Arthur's hand. Crying out, Arthur jerked his hand away and stumbled back, catching himself on the edge of the window. "What was that for?!" Mister Eagle merely responded with another hoot and the turn of his head towards the Quidditch pitch. Sighing, Arthur straightened up and inspected his hand: Mister Eagle hadn't drawn blood, thankfully. "Oh, all right, fine. I may as well. It's a different captain this year – maybe she'll let me in this year."

Arthur arrived on the Quidditch pitch just in time to see the Slytherins storming angrily onto the grass. Elizaveta Héderváry headed straight for the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, Mei Xiao, expression thunderous. Off to the side, the Hufflepuffs were wrapping up, keeping an eye on the situation that was brewing. The Ravenclaws had obviously settled down to wait as they were all in the stands, watching the confrontation. Hovering a few feet from the group of Slytherins, Arthur watched with disguised interest.

"What the hell are you doing here, Xiao?" Elizaveta growled, eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what you mean," Mei said, shrugging a shoulder. "We've all to do our try-outs today, you know that. It's our turn next."

"No it's not! It's ours!"

Glancing over at the Ravenclaws, Arthur concluded that it was most likely supposed to be the Ravenclaws that were meant to be up next. He didn't voice this protestation, though, turning his attention back to the Gryffindors. Alfred F. Jones was amongst them, proudly wearing his Quidditch robes and scowling at the Slytherins, his gaze roaming across them all. Their eyes met and Arthur hastily looked away.

The argument beside him began to escalate – for some reason Elizaveta and Mei had always been at odds with each other. It had gotten worse over the years. Arthur had always wondered why that was: as far as he was aware, the school rivalries usually faded nowadays.

Whatever the reason, wands were suddenly drawn and the two girls were at wand-point. Immediately, the rest of the Gryffindors pulled out their wands and the other Slytherins grabbed theirs. Silence descended as Arthur watched, wondering whether he should get his out, too. Usually, he kept himself out of things like this: his speciality was carefully concocted plans carried out over several days. Then he realised that it was going to get ugly and he got ready, rather pleased to actually be able to use his magic beyond the paltry domestic spells he used constantly.

"Stop!" called a Ravenclaw. When Arthur glanced over his shoulder, he saw Kiku standing beside Lukas, both of them looking worried. "You're going to get into trouble."

"Yeah," said a Hufflepuff whose name escaped Arthur. "We'll get into trouble, too."

Mei glanced around and then nodded, lowering her wand. However, Elizaveta murmured something as she put her own wand away and Mei instantly raised hers, the loathing clear on her face. Without thinking, Arthur stepped forward, wand up and cried, "Protego!" The spell Mei cast, whatever it had been, ricocheted off the shield and into obscurity. A heavy silence fell as everyone turned to him.

"What're ya doing, Kirkland?" Jones demanded, frowning at him. Obviously Arthur's interference had the Gryffindor stumped.

Not knowing the answer himself, Arthur shrugged. "They're right," he said. "We'll get into trouble. Besides," he added, frowning at Mei, "attacking when there's witnesses isn't exactly wise."

"What exactly are you implying?" Mei snapped, her brown hair flying as she whirled on Arthur. Her wand was pointed directly at his heart and he involuntarily stepped back.

"Hey!" Elizaveta pushed her way forward. "This is our fight." She glared over her shoulder at Arthur. "Stay out of it."

"I was trying to prevent a fight," Arthur pointed out, putting a hand on his hip. "A magical duel with nigh on thirty people is not going to end well. And one of those lot" - he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws - "will go get someone and we'll all end up in detention."

"What," said Jones, gleefully, "are you scared, Kirkland? No. No, wait. I bet you don't think you can win!"

Arthur stared at him for a moment, trying to keep his temper under control. It was what he wanted and Arthur wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Anyway, replying with an insult would make matters worse and saying something reasonable would only result in mocking. Then Alfred, sensing his hesitation, smirked and Arthur saw red.

"Oppugno!" he cried, aiming at Alfred's precious Firebolt 3.5. The broom began to attack the Gryffindor, whacking him on the head over and over again. His friends roared and, as one, aimed at Arthur but he was quick to bring up another shield charm. Their jinxes and curses bounced off it while Mei tried to hold back the broomstick.

For once, his fellow Slytherins began to help him, firing off hexes and their own curses. Elizaveta even stepped up beside him, looking determined. Surprised, Arthur gave her a small smile and cast a couple of leg-locker curses. Somehow, the Slytherins got the upper hand quite quickly, perhaps because the Gryffindors had made the mistake of targeting only one of them.

"Enough!" shouted Alfred, suddenly, glaring around at them. Apparently, Mei had managed to cast the counter-jinx and Alfred's broomstick lay still on the grass. He pushed his way through his incapacitated team-mates and Quidditch hopefuls and headed straight for Arthur. The Slytherin stepped back and prepared himself to raise another shield.

"Al!" someone called from behind Arthur – it was either Kiku or that Hufflepuff boy. There was warning in their tone but Alfred didn't stop. He didn't seem to hear them.

When he got too close, Arthur quickly said, "Protego duo."

"You think I'm gonna try using magic on you?" Alfred growled, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Arthur tried not to look nervous. "I know you Slytherins have all sorts of Dark magic."

"Hey!" snapped Elizaveta, stepping in front of Arthur. "That's prejudiced. Leave him alone."

"He attacked me!"

"You provoked him!"

Tugging on Elizaveta's arm, Arthur drew her back. "Leave it, Héderváry. He can't touch me through this shield. This one will repel his magical attacks and stops him from hitting us."

"Yeah?" Alfred said. "Yeah?! Well, we'll just see how good you think you are. Eagle One!"

Everyone froze, waiting to see what sort of spell that was supposed to be. After a few seconds, when nothing appeared to happen, Arthur frowned. "What was that, Jones? I knew you were stupid, what with being in Gryffindor, but this just takes the cake."

"I'm summoning my owl, Kirkland. He's big and he'll rip you apart!"

"Don't be daft. Owl's don't attack things bigger than them."

"He'll peck your eyes out, then!"

Arthur snorted but, before he could reply, a familiar hoot sounded above his head. Glancing up, he saw the large outline of an owl swooping towards Alfred. The Gryffindor lifted his arm and the owl obediently alighted there before turning around so he could watch Arthur. The Slytherin stopped breathing: Mister Eagle was Alfred's owl? And, to think, he had complained repeatedly about the boy to him! He had befriended the bird, for Merlin's sake!

Wait.

Did Alfred call him 'Eagle One'?

"What kind of a name is that?!" he demanded, uncaring of the tension still surrounding the group.

Alfred's eyes widened before he narrowed them and huffed. "Shut up!" He turned to his companion. "Go on, Eagle One. Peck out his eyes or something!"

Eagle One turned his head to look at Alfred before turning to look at Arthur. For a few moments, he did nothing. Then he hooted, spread his wings and took off, clipping Alfred over the head. Ignoring Alfred's cry of indignation, Eagle One glided across the short distance to Arthur. The teenager tensed, watching the owl closely. When he reached him, Eagle One stretched out his talons and grabbed hold of Arthur's shoulder. The grip was light, though, and he settled there, turning to look back at Alfred.

Silence fell as Arthur stood there, trying to get used to the weight on his shoulder. Then, with a loud hoot, Eagle One nuzzled Arthur's head, rubbing his beak through Arthur's messy hair as if he was attempting to put it into some sort of order. Arthur let him until he tugged on a knot and, with a wince and a hiss, he held out his arm. Eagle One obediently hopped down onto it. Arthur drew him close and stroked his head, smiling down at him, relieved he had one friend in the castle.

"What the hell is going on?!" Alfred demanded, looking very confused. "What're ya doing Eagle One? Come back over here."

Wondering whether he should explain or not, Arthur glanced down at Eagle One for guidance. The owl hooted and nudged at Arthur's arm. Sighing, Arthur obliged his friend. "Mister Eagle- I mean... Eagle One" - he didn't hide his disgust at the name - "is a friend of mine." Since Alfred still looked confused, Arthur shrugged a shoulder. "I go up to the Owlery a lot," he admitted.

"You have an owl?" asked Alfred, his frown becoming more pronounced as he thought back on the past five years. "I thought-"

"I don't," Arthur interjected. "But I like the owls and they like me." He lowered his voice to murmur, "The only ones around to do so, by the looks of things."

Another silence fell and this one was broken by Professor Avia hurrying across the Quidditch pitch, the Hufflepuff from earlier rushing along in her wake. "What is this?!" she shouted. "What's going on here?" The Gryffindors and the Slytherins surged forwards as one, trying to tell their own version of events. Not wanting to be caught up in it, Arthur sent Eagle One back into the air and rushed off, not daring to look back in case Alfred was still staring at him so intently.

After dinner, Arthur decided to go see Eagle One. The Slytherins who had been caught with the Gryffindors had been given detention and had had to push the try-outs to the next weekend – Arthur didn't want to find out if they begrudged him for earlier. So, after slipping into his dormitory to grab his cloak to stave off the cooler air of the evening, he had dodged around the other students, younger and older, to reach the Owlery stairs.

Climbing up the stairs, he gazed out at the lengthening shadow of the castle on the lawn. In the distance, the hut of the gamekeeper had a merry light blazing, smoke winding its way upwards to the clouds above. The odd patch of sky revealed the dark blue canvas above, oranges and red painting it in the west. There was no breeze to ruffle the trees of the Forbidden Forest which stood tall and stern. The silhouette of the Whomping Willow rose up from the grass and the Quidditch pitch behind it was silent. Shining reflections of lights and stars covered the still lake; it seemed as though it was a pane of glass stretched out on the lawn. Arthur thought it was beautiful, though he couldn't help wonder if it was the calm before the storm and that his life was about to get a little more complicated.

Finally, he reached the top of the Owlery and stretched, taking in the scene one more time. Then, with a deep breath, he took his wand from his pocket and stepped inside, ready to clean the floor. He froze when he saw that he wasn't the only one visiting the owls. His movement had attracted their attention and Alfred glanced over, tensing when he saw the wand Arthur was pointing in his direction. Quickly, he diverted its aim to the droppings and straw on the floor and murmured, "Scourgify."

"Huh," said Alfred, watching Arthur sit down with his back to the wall. "I didn't think of that."

"That's why you're a Gryffindor. You just charge blindly in."

"Hey! That's..." Alfred grimaced. "All right, fine. That's pretty much true." Hesitantly, he moved over and slowly dropped down to sit beside Arthur.

They sat for a while, hugging their knees and in almost complete silence. The owls hooted around them until, with a louder hoot, Eagle One flew down to land in front of them. He watched them both, waiting. Finally, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a biscuit. Holding it out to the owl, he glanced at Alfred in case he had any objections. Alfred shook his head slightly and Eagle One instantly grabbed it from Arthur's hand.

"D'ya always bring him something to eat?" Alfred asked.

"Only when I can sneak into the kitchen."

"Wha-? I don't even know how to do that!" exclaimed Alfred, ruffling a few owl's feathers with his volume.

"Well I do," said Arthur, smugly. "And I shan't tell you how either."

"Aw. You won't even show me?"

Arthur paused. "We're not exactly friends."

"We could be. Maybe. I dunno. I don't really know you." Alfred let his head fall back to stare up at the multitude of owls above them. "Like, why do you come up here?"

Again, Arthur paused. Should he tell him the truth? Should he tell him it's none of his business? He was leaning towards the latter when Eagle One suddenly pecked at one of his fingers. Yelping, he was surprised to see Alfred become concerned.

"Oh, my God! Jeez, Eagle One! What're ya doing?" Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand to inspect the injury. Luckily, once again, the owl hadn't broken the skin.

"Is he hungry?" Arthur asked, frowning in confusion.

"No. He never pecks people for food – he just stares at you when you're eating till ya give him something."

"Huh." Arthur looked at Eagle Owl, appraising the bird. Eagle One merely stared back: it felt as though he was staring into Arthur's soul. Replaying the incident in his mind, Arthur realised that he had pecked him when he was preparing to retreat back into himself. Was it possible that the owl was telling him to open up? To Alfred of all people? Arthur tried not to pull a face.

"Do you come up here to send letters?" Alfred asked, obviously trying to return to their previous conversation now that Eagle One seemed to be behaving himself again.

"What?" Arthur asked, distractedly.

"Do ya send a lotta letters?" drawled Alfred, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. No. Only all at once."

"Huh?"

Sighing, Arthur ran a hand through his hair before letting his head fall back. The light was failing and it was getting harder to see the other owls waking, getting ready to fly. "I don't get on well with people," he began.

"That's an understatement," murmured Alfred. Arthur ignored him.

"No-one wants to be friends with a Slytherin. And no Slytherin wants to be friends with someone poor. Or, at least, they don't in first year. But, after a year of that prejudice, you tend to want to protect yourself from everyone and you push everyone away. More or less. I still send letters to my mum but our family owl is getting on in years and takes forever to get from here to home and back again."

"Ah. So you... made friends with the owls."

"I didn't intend to but they're the only ones who listened to me without judging or trying to curse me." Arthur let his head drop back down and grinned at Alfred. "It helped that I found the kitchen in first year and I bring food with me all the time."

Alfred laughed at that. "You sneak! You need to show me where it is!"

"What's in it for me?"

"A friend." Alfred froze once the words slipped past his lips and he stared at Arthur with wide eyes. Arthur stared back, just as surprised as Alfred evidently was. "I-I'm so sorry," Alfred stammered, waving his hands around. "I didn't-"

"I shall accept your apology for trying to make Mister Eagle- I mean, Eagle One attack me," Arthur said, sticking his nose in the air. "And I'll show you the way to the kitchen later, when there are less Hufflepuffs wandering around – someone'll see, otherwise."

"'Mister Eagle'?" Alfred snorted with laughter.

"It's a damned sight better than 'Eagle One'!" protested Arthur. "What, are you expecting an 'Eagle Two'?"

Laughing, Alfred shook his head, bending over and hugging his stomach as his laughter echoed. Arthur couldn't help joining in when Eagle One launched into the air to go hunting, clipping Alfred over the head as he went. Their laughter drifted across the grounds, following in Eagle One's wake.

And then they went to the kitchen and had fun and became friends. And Arthur became friends with Kiku and Lukas again. And Elizaveta gave him a spot on the Quidditch team, too. And all was right in the world.

Fun info: Eagle Owls are called Horned Owls in America. Well, they're one species. The other are Eurasian Eagle Owls.

Sorry about the names. In Alfred's defence, he's a Muggle-born and he was eleven years old when he named him. Arthur's just being polite.