Fallen Snow

“Uu-hoo!”

Anna ducked out of the way of an eagle owl as it dove through the noisy street, disappearing into a newly furbished building with the words ‘Owl Postal Service’ on its front.  

The merchant district of Diagon Alley had a life of its own, bustling with noise and thrumming with the pulse of magic as crowds consisting of all manner of wizarding folk thronged its cobblestoned streets.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

The scars and memories had faded with time, but traces of them still remained. Anna had heard the stories, had seen the aftermath, but more excruciatingly, she had been here on the day of The Great Terror – a mysterious force that left whole areas of central London in shambles as it razed through the city, wrecking havoc and leaving a trail of carnage and devastation in its wake.

“The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. Counter-Hexes and Defensive Magical Theory. Advanced Transfigurations. I think we’ve gotten them all, haven’t we?” Gerda pursed her lips as she checked off a booklist of school supplies. “That leaves us with stocking up on your potions kit. Might as well get a new cauldron while we’re at it, the old one’s got more rust than a pair of old boots. And we’ve still got to get you fitted for new robes! It’s hard to believe you’re still growing...”

She turned to Anna, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “And of course, there’s still the matter of your birthday gift.”

Anna forced out a smile, suddenly eager to hop into the nearest Floo home. It had been on her birthday that...

“I was thinking of...” Gerda’s eyes twinkled. “...an owl?”

Anna spied another feathered form zipping over their heads, hooting at the top of its lungs, a small parcel tied to its foot. It wasn’t that she disliked the little messenger birds, quite the contrary really. She just didn’t think she needed one. It was easy enough to borrow one of the school owls to write home and she had grown rather fond of them, regularly visiting the owlery before classes, pockets bursting with treats.

But she didn’t want to let the elderly housekeeper down.

“I’d love an owl!”

.

Eeylops Owl Emporium was a quaint looking shop that sat at the end of a minor street on the north side of Diagon Alley. Its paned windows were tinted and dark, but anyone walking pass could hear the sonorous calls – short hoots and longer hoooos, broken up every now and then by a whistle or screech – from within its tenebrous walls.

The wooden door gave a creak as Anna pushed it open, and the strawberry blonde squinted as her vision hastened to adjust to the departed light. It was a sweltering summer’s day out in Diagon Alley, but inside the emporium, it was night. A dim overhead lamp bathed the room in a soft dream-like ambience, like a full moon hanging in a velvet sky.

A few customers were milling about near the front of the shop. Gerda made enquiries with the shop owner while Anna ventured further in, a dozen pairs of eyes following her every step.

She wandered past a small aviary housing a pair of barn owls with creamy speckled coats and the sweetest heart-shaped faces, a clutch of tawny owls nestling together in a wicker basket, a screech owl with tufted lynx-like ears and eyes that were quite possibly larger than her own, and a little scops owl that poked its head out from a wooden box, letting out a string of high-pitched hoots.

The fluffy wad of feathers fluttered up to her shoulder, hooting excitedly into her ear.

“Otis, no!” An assistant shopkeeper shooed him away. “I’m sorry, he just wanted to say hi, and maybe ask for a treat.”

“Hey! You’re from Hogwarts too, aren’t you?” She turned to Anna with a blink. “Gryffindor, I’m guessing? You’ve got that look about you. I’m Mari, seventh-year Hufflepuff.”

“Anna, Gryffindor fourth-year, well I’ll be a fifth-year in three weeks.” Anna scrounged up her face. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to it. Mugging for the OWLs isn’t going to be a hoot, no pun intended.”

“Tell me about it.” Mari groaned. “So, I take it you’re looking for an owl to handle your mail? Anyone caught your eye yet? Or your heart?”

There was a small tug at Anna’s feet. She looked down to find the little scops pecking at her shoelaces, fully absorbed in the task of undoing them.

“Otis!” The assistant shopkeeper gasped, evidently less amused at the owl’s antics than Anna was. Unfortunately, Gerda’s homemade deliveries of lingoberry fruitcakes and chocolate crumbles were much too heavy for the excitable little thing to carry, or else she would have gladly taken him home.

Mari seemed to read her mind. “We have a couple of great greys and eagle owls over this way. They’re housed apart as they prefer the cool and quiet, and some of them get annoyed when it gets too rackety outside.” She pulled aside a black drape to reveal a curtailed off area with a couple of larger owls roosting in airy cages.

The sudden cold made Anna gasp. It was as if there was an invisible barrier warding out the heat. She hugged her arms around herself, chasing off the chill nipping at her skin. Her gaze swept across the room, catching sight of a blot of white, half-veiled amidst the shadows.

Turned away from the babel of noise, head tucked under a wing as it dozed on a wooden perch, was a snowy owl, with its unmistakable pure white plumage that looked as soft as freshly fallen snow, an echo of its native winter tundra. The thick down of snow-hued feathers even extended to its feet, concealing dagger-sharp talons, and making it look like it was wearing a pair of fuzzy white slippers.

Her sharp intake of breath caused the snowy to stir. A round head poked out from under its wing, swivelling around to peer at her with the most striking iridescent eyes.

Anna felt her heart lurch. “Her eyes! They are–”

As shimmering as the moon and as radiant as the stars, and so, so...

“Blue.”

The snowy owl hadn’t so much as ruffled a feather as it sat stock still on its post, save for an elegant slant of its head as if to get a better look at the intruder who had disturbed its quiescence.

Anna boldly held the stare of those strange unnatural eyes, which seemed to be giving off an incandescent glow, transfixing her as a field mouse is transfixed by curved talons.

Straight through the heart.

“She’s beautiful.” The owl’s beauty was undeniable, but it was those bewitching blue irises that had her captive.

“Wait till you see her in flight.” Mari chimed in. The snowy finally broke off its piercing stare, turning to the older girl with a soft chirrup.

“Is she yours?” Anna felt her heart drop like a stone.

“Goodness, no!” The older girl shook her head. “Professor Willow has threatened to evict me from the Hufflepuff dorms if I brought any more pets to Hogwarts. I keep telling them that the trunk of pygmy puffs doesn’t count...But I won’t deny that I was just as captivated as you, from the moment I saw her.”

“We found her out in the cold, during that freak snowstorm we had a couple weeks back. Poor girl was in rough shape-weak and starved, barely conscious, with a badly broken wing. If she'd went another day like that, I don't think she would have survived."

"We don't know how she sustained her injuries-well, Lewi thinks she was hit by one of those wheeled muggle contraptions, but I’d say she’s too smart for that.” The crease on her brow deepened. “It’s horrible to think that anyone would hurt such an innocent thing.”

She motioned to a silvery metal band around the owl’s leg, scarcely visible beneath thick tufts of feathers. “She’s been banded, but we haven’t been able to trace her owners, and no one’s come in to claim her yet. I was expecting her to fly off home now that her wing’s healed, but the fact that she hasn’t probably means that she doesn’t have one to return to.”

Anna felt her heart clench in her chest. In that moment, she had never felt more certain of anything.

“I want her.”

“Are you sure?” Mari raised a brow, hopeful yet hesitant. “I mean, that’d be wonderful if you would take her! Merlin knows she deserves a good home. We don’t know if she’s trained for letters yet, but I'm sure she's a fast learner.”

“I have to warn you though, she’s...” The Hufflepuff paused, searching for the right word. “Twitchy.”

More like frosty, Anna thought to herself, an involuntary chill shivering up her spine as those icy blue orbs shifted back to her, as impassive as cold winter’s rime, not betraying a hint of emotion, and yet they could congeal the blood in her veins with just one look.

“Oh, she has a habit of that.” Mari smiled knowingly, not at all put off by the owl’s staring. “It means she’s curious about you, I reckon. Bit unnerving though, isn’t it? Here, hold out your hand and let her step up onto your arm.” She encouraged.

Anna complied, sidling closer and holding out a hand as instructed. But the snowy merely continued her unblinking stare. Then she raised her wings, diving off her post and vanishing beyond the curtains in whispery-soft flight.

Anna’s face faltered. But before the gutted feeling could sink in, the owl was back, gliding over and dropping a thick leathery glove into her hand.  

She wants me to wear it? Anna pulled the glove on, allowing the owl to flutter onto her wrist, though she needed a few attempts to reposition and balance herself, as if she wasn’t used to using someone’s arm as a perch.

She was also surprisingly light, no heavier than a pillow.

“She’s mostly feathers after all.” Mari giggled. “We call her Nix because she looks like an owl-shaped snowball, but underneath all that floof, she’s thin as a rake. We’ve tried tempting her with all sorts of treats, but she’s hardly taken anything more than a nibble.”  

“Nix?” Icy blues turned once more to her with a questioning blink, and once again Anna found herself struck by how bright they were, like glinting fractals of ice. Or perhaps it was their sheer beauty that gave that illusion, like how the sun looks brightest just before an eclipse.

Mari was saying something, but it was hard to focus on much else when those ethereal blue eyes were looking at her so intently.

“So do you want to?” The older girl seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“Personally, I’d recommend it.” She added, seeing Anna’s hesitation. “Think of it as less band than bond. No matter where either of you are, she’ll know when you're calling her and how to find you.”

Owl banding was something of a moot practice in the wizarding world. Simply put, it was a way of marking the ownership of an owl once it was purchased. But not everyone saw the need for the magically enforced contract, as owls were faithful and steadfastly loyal by nature.

With her footing now secure, the snowy had recovered her sangfroid poise, sitting regal and statuesque like a dignified monarch, but her grip was almost crushingly tight around Anna’s wrist, all but puncturing through the protective leather, and her pale irises were a few shades darker.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Anna soothed, wondering for a fleeting moment if she should reach out to smooth a feather that had gotten ruffled in flight, eventually deciding against it. “I want it to be your choice.”

An overwrought silence hung thickly between them, broken only by the soft rustling of wings, as though the other owls were all feeling the same nervous tension. Or perhaps it was because of the growing chill in the air, gripping her as tightly as Nix’s talons.

After what felt like an eternity, she felt the owl’s vice-like grip relax a fraction. The snowy lifted herself to her full height, chilling blue eyes never leaving Anna’s, balancing precariously on one foot and holding out the other.

.

Despite Gerda’s objections, Anna was adamant to have her new snowy owl stay in her room with her.

Nix was a mostly silent presence, a fortress of solitude that Anna was allowed an occasional peak into. She would sit for hours on her perch – an old snag transfigured from a bedside table lamp, wings folded protectively around herself, nodding off in fragments of sleep during the day and gazing out at the stars after nightfall, little bothered by the shiny new metal band fitted snugly around her foot.

Other times, she would be doing what she was doing now – Anna-watching.

“Hey you.” It was one of those dreary late summer mornings. Outside, it was trying to rain. Inside, Anna was lazing in bed, being silently judged by a pair of arresting blue eyes.

“Hoo?”

“You!” She held out a hand. “C’mere, you little floofball.”

Blue eyes continued to gaze at her coolly, with an inscrutable expression that Anna reckoned fell somewhere between indignant and aloof, perhaps a little guarded and wary. At times she thought she could glimpse something more, something shy and uncertain. Other times they just looked haunted and sad.

Mari hadn’t been lying about the owl being a finicky eater, turning her tail at the premium owl treats that Anna had bought for her, only to be caught red-beaked in Gerda’s lingonberry jam. And the only hunting she did was through the pantry, making off with a wiggling chocolate frog in her beak.

And don’t get her started on the hot chocolate incident. It had been such a pain to get the stains off those beautiful white feathers. Nix was a fastidious groomer by nature, but getting her snowy down wet for a bath had been met with much resistance in the form of nipping and crying and flailing of wings. In the end, a dripping wet Nix had flatly refused her offer of a blow dry, fluttering to the top of a cupboard to brood sullenly for the rest of the day.

But despite the owl’s diffidence, Nix was warming up to her, gradually, like the thawing of winter into the budding of spring, no longer shying away when Anna reached out to stroke her feathers. And she was just as soft as she looked. 

It took a few minutes of coaxing and cajoling to get the snowy to hop onto her lap with a deft beat of her wings. Outside her window, the late morning sunshower continued to hum its lulling song, but it wasn’t until Nix had finally fluffed herself up, resting her head on Anna’s chest with the softest little sigh, that she allowed herself to drift back into the sea of slumber.

When she awoke, the skies had cleared of sun-kissed rain, giving way to wispy clouds drifting in an expanse of blue. Anna yawned, resisting the urge to nuzzle into the soft plush toy in her arms.

The plush toy stirred, blinking up at her with wide inquiring eyes.

“Nix? Do you want to go for a flight?”

Another blink, and then a shy nod.

In flight, Nix was poetry in motion, sunbeams gleaming off her outstretched wings as she glided through the air against the prevailing wind. A swift and silent mirage, one with the wind and sky.

Anna couldn’t imagine a more arresting sight.

“Nix!” The call was carried off by a blustery draft that felt more like the coming of winter than the first whispers of autumn. But the owl had little trouble hearing it, arcing round on those soft and silent wing beats to land lightly on Anna’s bare arm, the strong grip of her talons never sinking deep enough to cut.

Anna reached up with her free hand, giving the owl a scratch on the head and, after a moment’s hesitation, combing her fingers through the dense cotton-like feathers on her chest, gently feeling for the keel bone underneath as Mari had taught her to. It felt a little less prominent than before, despite her worries that Nix wasn’t eating enough.

Satisfied, she went back to petting that fuzzy head, grinning when Nix returned the affection with a chirp.

The snowy hadn’t always been this tolerant of her touch, going so far as to shut herself in her cage or hastily retreating to some high perch whenever Anna would gingerly inch out a hand to her. She slept poorly and startled often, and during those fitful spells her eyes would be pinched so tight it looked like she was frowning.

It tugged at her heartstrings to see her owl like that, and so when Nix had startled awake again one morning, blue eyes glistened and brewing a winterstorm, Anna had reacted on instinct. Just a brush of fingers, a gossamer’s touch, but she had nearly caught a talon to the face as a result. Nix had taken off like a hawk, darting out an open window and refusing to answer to any of Anna’s frantic calls. The nick under her eye had all but healed by the time the owl was eventually found, huddled in the crook of an old elm tree, utterly drenched from a band of late summer rain.

She’s icecold. Anna recalled how her hands had trembled as she gathered up the sodden slush in her arms, carefully cradling her to her chest, the thought of losing her striking a chill to her heart like a piercing shard of ice.

It tore at her to see Nix looking so small and scared, peeking up at her through guilt-stricken eyes. And she was still so cold, even though they were huddled in front of the fireplace, waiting for the snowy’s wet down to dry off.

Of course, a simple drying spell would have sufficed, but she didn’t want to risk setting the owl off again.

Clearly Nix’s wounds, although healed, had scarred deep.

“You don’t have to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you.” I promise.

The snowy remained as tense as a drawn bow, as if prepared to flee again at any moment.

“Animals can be highly emotional and sensitive. It's no wonder she reacted like that.” Gerda shook her head sadly. "You can't blame her for being nervous around humans. There’s even some blinkered folk who believe an owl with blue eyes to be cursed. Nothing but blarney talk and bogus superstition of course. Never thought I’d actually see one.”

“She’s not a curse!” Anna furiously brushed away a tear that slid down her cheek. She could feel Nix’s sleek body quaver, talons digging a little into her skin. The snowy allowed herself to be bundled into Anna’s hoodie, but she refused to meet her gaze, turning away and squeezing her eyes shut as if to hide them from view.

Ever since that day something had changed, not a splinter or a crack but a rift in the ice. But it would take much more than that for it to melt.

Even now, those blue eyes were tightly lidded as she brushed her thumb over the crest of feathers between them.

.

“Is that an owl?”

“Chuffing hell, you’re right – hey look over there!”

The station clock at King’s Cross Station read a quarter to eleven. Anna was running late, not helped by the head turns and gawking looks that Nix was drawing, as curious muggles pointed out the snowy owl to each other.

The swarm of voices was drowned out by the announcement of an arriving train and the ensuing wave of London commuters surging past her, nearly jostling Nix’s cage off the top of her trolley.

Hurriedly, Anna reached over to steady it, and the owl hooted her thanks, before going back to dozing with her head under her wing.

Or at least she was pretending to. The snowy’s sleep was too peaceful, her breathing too light and even. She didn’t even twitch a tailfeather when they hurtled through the paint-peeled brick wall between platforms nine and ten, emerging on the other side of the magical barrier, just as a shrill whistle screeched through the air.

Anna hurried on, weaving through the crowd and waving to any familiar faces she encountered, while Nix continued to feign disinterest, impervious to the friendly hoots of other owls and the not-so-friendly hiss of a half-kneazle that Anna very nearly tripped over as it slinked between her legs. 

She could have sworn that she saw the little floofball stifle a titter, the slight quiver of her shoulders giving her away.

“Are you...laughing at me?” She squawked.

Nix’s response was to preen a feather nonchalantly, already back to being the picture of sophisticated grace.

A group of first-years looked to be struggling with their trunks so Anna stopped to lend a hand, hefting the last one onto the train car just as the scarlet red locomotive blared a final warning, puffing billows of steam through its stack. Anna needed no further urging to clamber on board, herding the first-years to their seats.

She lumbered toward the back of the train, hauling her trunk along by the handle, with her broomstick tucked under one arm and Nix’s cage grasped firmly in the other.

By the time she found an empty compartment, the massive steam engine was already chugging off down the tracks. The lone student inside was a dark-haired girl who glanced over the top of her book at her as she shouldered through the door.

“Here, let me get that for you.” The girl flicked her wand, levitating the trunk and broom that Anna had dumped unceremoniously on the floor up to the overhead rack, all while keeping her subtle gaze trained on her.

“Th-thanks.” Anna swallowed, an uncomfortable silence settling between them. She shifted Nix’s cage in her arms, wondering if she should let the owl out to stretch her wings. And then she froze, her heart catching in her chest and leaping to her throat.

“I was wondering when you’d notice.” The girl murmured, almost to herself, with a wry twitch of her lips. She didn’t have to say if she was referring to the cage’s door hanging open or the fact that it was distinctly missing an owl.

Anna’s heart plummeted. In two bounds, she leapt to the window, flinging it open. A gust of wind tugged at her braids as she craned her neck out, straining against the harsh glare of the mid-day sun for a glimpse of that distinctive blot of white.

How did Nix get out?! Had the snowy seen something – or someone – that caused her to bolt? No, never mind all that, she had to get back to the station! Nix had to be terrified, all alone and thinking that Anna had abandoned her.

Her flight of thoughts was interrupted by a dry cough. “You know, there’s a rumour that the train doesn’t take too kindly to students trying to leave while it’s moving.”

Anna gritted back a retort. Whoever this girl was, she could take her unnecessary remarks and shove them up her–

The girl set her book down in her lap, catching the redhead’s glare through her reflection in the window but merely shrugging it off. “Call her.”

Anna paused, one foot on the window ledge.

“She’s banded, right? Your owl.” The girl shrugged again, reaching for the cup of tea steaming at her elbow. “So call her.”

Why hadn’t she thought of that? Aside from when she was deliberately avoiding her, Nix always came when she called, at times seemingly appearing out of nowhere like a ghostly apparition.

“Nix!”

A blur of white swept through the open door, wings brushing against the sides of its frame. The snowy swooped towards Anna, faltering abruptly when she wasn’t offered a wrist to perch, wings whirring so hard to avoid crashing into her human that the room was soon covered in a small flurry of white feathers. She made another arc around the room, landing in a graceful pitch on top of her cage.

“Where did you go? Why did you disappear like that?”

Nix gave a weak chirp, wings pressed tight to her sides, head hanging low. Anna grimaced, at once regretting her harsh tone, the fear that had been gripping her heart instantly replaced by guilt.

“I’m sorry.” She held out a hand, waiting for Nix to crack open her eyes before gently picking her up and letting her flutter up to her shoulder. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

The snowy chirruped in her ear, her soft feathers tickling Anna's neck, making her giggle. “Does that mean you promise you’ll never leave me?”

A sudden shatter of glass made her jump. The dark-haired girl swore under her breath, scourgifying the mess of spilled tea and broken china with an aggravated swish of her wand.

“Hey...you okay? You’re looking a little ashen there.” Anna took a half-step forward.

“Travel sickness.” Her concern was waved off. “Look, if you aren’t planning on jumping the rails, could you close the window?”

Just as she spoke, a blistery wind rattled through the gap, ruffling up Nix’s feathers, and bringing with it a cloudburst of icy rain. Anna hurriedly yanked the window shut before more rain could be driven into the carriage.

When she turned back, the girl was staring at her again, a myriad of emotions taking turns to flicker across her face.

No, not at her, but at a spot somewhere above her shoulder. As if sensing the scrutiny, Nix swivelled her head round to return the stare with her usual imperturbable air.

“Her eyes, they are...” She heard the girl murmur, the words as soft as a distant echo.

“Blue.”