Hedwig’s Debut
She in fact, is not getting used to this.
There’s shit all over the place.
After two months at Hogwarts, there hasn’t been a day where Harry hasn’t heard Hedwig complaining.
When he walked over to visit her after the classes were over for the day, Hedwig would dig her talons into him to sit and screech loudly in his ear.
Yeah, Harry can see that she is miserable.
It smelled awful to her. These owls were disgusting. Maybe it’s because she still has some of her human standards, but why do they shit where they reside. It’s not that hard for them to fly outside, drop, and come back in.
God.
She’s already started a fight with three other owls, needing elf or human intervention.
And don’t even get her started on the rotten beast that responds with pride to the name “Ulysses.”
The castle had house elves that tried to keep up with it. Keyword, “tried.”
There was no keeping up with these hellions.
So far, she’s delivered a couple of letters from Hagrid to Harry.
She stole his food every single time.
It’s now November, and all Harry’s been chattering about to her is his first quidditch match.
He comes to talk to her almost every single day. Sometimes he brings his posse.
It’s exhausting.
She will never admit it until her dying breath, but… she doesn’t exactly hate it.
Hedwig flew over the quidditch pitch, finding the best hidden place she could sit.
Doesn’t Snape get set on fire during this?
She wants to see.
She settles on top of the stands, just out of reach from the children.
Observing the starting of the game, she ponders on how broomsticks work. She had never seen such a game before. She wasn’t sure what to think of it.
Hedwig only came to appease Harry.
She didn’t want to hear his grumbling for the next year straight. Apparently there’s something soothing about rambling on to someone who can’t speak back at you.
All of a sudden, Harry starts tweaking out.
Hedwig remembers from Crystal that Quirrell jinxed Harry’s broom.
How could she have forgotten?
Digging through her old brief memories, watching this up close is a lot different from watching a screen.
This is real. And there’s a chance that something bad could actually happened to Harry here. He’s too small for that.
She spots Quirrell down below.
Oh my god, Voldemorts real.
It’s a good thing that’s she’s always been obnoxiously unafraid. She’s a pot stirrer.
She’s chaotic neutral. With just a small speck of chaotic good.
So, she sets Quirrell on fire.
She said just a speck.
A special trick she taught herself early in this life was how to use a big blocky lighter with her front and back toe.
Knowing where the lighters are hidden, (where the older kids go to smoke), she speed dives to pick one up. Using her owl feet, she lights it up.
She proceeds to dive bomb him and set the front of his robes on fire.
There are two professors on fire.
The crowd erupts in chaos and she screeched in delight. The reactions spread like a wildfire through the stands. Some people were laughing, some screaming, others running away. A couple others caught fire as the decent professors rushed to spray them with water spells, drenching the student body.
Dropping the lighter behind the stadium, she re-emerges to the top.
She takes a glance at Harry to make sure that he didn’t squish into the ground-
He’s staring at her, mouth agape.
Obviously Dumbledore saved him in time.
That’s good.