Notes: Quidditch League Round 2 Ballycastle Bats Keeper: Magical Menagerie

At least the food was good. That was the only positive thing she could say about this place, and it was probably the most important.

It was delivered at precisely the same time twice a day (together with a glare, especially for her, from Old-human). There weren't many fights, except the occasional newbie who was soon put in their place, and every owl and bird and animal was mostly comfortable in their respective spots (though there was that one time a barn owl had flapped too close, but she had soon set him right and left him in his position on the other half of the room). Although they weren't a particularly violent sort, with the right motivation they would be at each other's throats in moments.

It could never be the same as the open skies she managed to escape to every couple of suns during her earlier years. The rats there had an odd tinge of something that felt like freedom, and she could easily say that she much rather favoured that taste to the generic mouse that barely knew how to run—and sometimes hadn't even carried the taste of life, being little more than hatchlings. She knew that she was one of the luckier one's; many of the rest of the animals had never been beyond the glass their entire lives, having been bred in the darkened backroom then brought to the light once they were old enough—in the Old-human's opinion.

Worst of all, though, were the careless humans who believed themselves entitled to petting her feathers, leaving bits of dust between them. It was a truly disgusting feeling, an irritation that sometimes could barely be ignored, that forced her to preen herself after they'd left, and sometimes while they were there to prevent herself from attempting to peck their hands off.

There had been one, though, that had taken her from her perch. Shiny-hair's eyes had been cold and grey like the floor she had grown to hate so much, and his hair so pristine she'd expected his hands to feel less disgusting. They didn't, especially since they had been covered with the dead skin of some other animal. Shiny-hair and Old-human had exchanged shiny coins, and Shiny-hair had then led her to one of the metal cages she had dreaded. The memory of the screeches of the previous birds as they had been placed in similar positions rang through her head, and every step caused her heart to shudder. She absolutely did not want to be in one of those.

Shiny-hair deserved the pecking he received for such a deplorable action. Even if the pecking caused her to blemish her perfect plumage with spots of blood, the human deserved it. The Old-human also deserved similar treatment for allowing such a thing, and while she was tempted to attack the other, this one felt worse.

The loud exclamation from the human she had attacked caused the smell of fear to come from the other humans, but she didn't care. No one would treat her like that. She wouldn't allow someone, human or otherwise, to treat her—or any other like her, for that matter—like that.

She only stopped attacking him when he reached for the edge of the store that led outside. His perfect plumage was in disarray, and she could only feel satisfaction thrum through her at the sight of his glare. You deserve it, she wanted to tell him, but knew that he would never understand her, so settled on glaring back at him through the window. His face disappeared after a few long moments, and the room descended into silence.

"I heard about that human," another snowy owl muttered. "He treats our sort terribly. If I hadn't been stuck to this post, I would have given him a piece of my mind too."

"But he feeds his carriers fat mice," a hawk exclaimed. "You've missed your opportunity! I would have willingly gone in that cage just to get the mice afterwards! The big mice are always the tastiest."

Another hawk reached her wing and cuffed him on the head. "You only think of mice. I think she's done a good job of chasing him away. Hopefully, he's gone for good. Wasn't he just here a cold season ago?"

Screeches of agreement followed her words.

A rather vicious tawny owl cried from his place, "I'll find him when I get out of here! He took my sister last time, and now he's come for another?!"

They were silenced by a loud bang, and the angry-looking Old-human that shouted unintelligibly at her. She assumed it was because of what she had just done, but she regretted none of it, so she stared at him. If the human thought she was going to back down to his stupidity, he had another thing coming. She was not as easily distracted as the hawk, nor did she need to blink as often as the humans seemed to.

The angry human left in a huff, but not before shooting a light at her that caused her to stick to her perch. At least she wasn't under the 'care' of Shiny-hair. Having nothing else to do, she settled on preening herself again. It wasn't likely that any new humans would be coming in after she'd scared the previous ones. They always took several sleeps to return. They were easily scared despite their size.

She was proven wrong when the bell tinkled again. This time the human wasn't quite human. He was far bigger than any of the others, and he gave her pause. The not-completely-human human petted every bird as he went past, but was clearly looking for an owl.

When he stopped in front of her, she attempted to snap at him, but he only laughed at caused her body to feel as if it were melting as he rubbed the back of her head. There really wasn't anything she could do to prevent the assault. It just felt so good, and she was momentarily glad she was stuck to the perch, or she was certain she would have fallen off and into this Not-completely-human's large hand.

He took her to the front without her noticing. She vaguely heard the other birds shouting warnings, but couldn't be bothered as long as Not-completely-human kept rubbing from her head down to her neck.

There was a cage, but she wasn't put into it. So, even when he stopped petting her, she sat on his shoulder calmly.

He tapped on a dusty window, and she peered with him into the store to see a wizened man and a tiny human. Not-completely-human said something she didn't completely understand, and Tiny-human's expression brightened.

Tiny-human was second only to Not-completely-human. Tiny-human smelt so happy that she didn't think he would be anything like Shiny-hair. She would trust Tiny-human, until he proved to be just like Shiny-hair.

She went home with Tiny-human that night—the cage didn't matter that much when Tiny-human kept petting her every few minutes, the smell of disbelief hanging on to him.

Maybe, she thought, she could be happy with Tiny-human.

"How about 'Hedwig'?"

She hooted, nipping the tip of his ear affectionately, knowing that her human was terrified she wouldn't like it.