Minds of Their Own

Spike staggered in from the mews, singed and tattered, wearing a dragonhide glove on one hand. On that wrist rode a rather ordinary looking owl, blinking sleepily in the daylight. Spike dropped into an oversized green velvet armchair. The owl flapped its wings to stay balanced, hissing irritably. The dorsal side of its wings were feathered, but the underside was leathery and lightly furred.  A questing tentacle pushed out into the open air, flailed for purchase, then tucked itself back away under the wing joint.

Spike tossed her wrist, and the owl glared before it launched itself to circle the glass ceiling. The giant squid swam closer to take a look. Trailing behind the owl was a scaly tail with a spade tip, lashing as if the bird were swimming through the air.

Spike sighs, rubs her temples. “It’s finally done. My Care of Magical Creatures OWL is finally complete.”  She had spend every spare second of the last few weeks, forgoing sleep and meals as she worked feverishly to breathe life into her creation.  A nice change, after the horcruxes, she thought, watching the beast soar.  Still, things could have been better -- I could have done better.  Should have done better; Herr Scherblocken is likely to remind me of that when I go home between terms.  

“I can see that!” Marvella, the Slytherin OWL Enforcer, beamed as she hung her whip back on her belt. “And it’s not even the end of the month!” She squinted as the beast came to rest on the fanged skull atop the bookshelf, coiling its tail carefully around its legs. “But is it supposed to look like that?”

The owl yawned, displaying jagged fangs like a drawer full of ivory fishooks, then belched flames before closing its eyes and settling its feathers. Spike shrugged.

“Sometimes they have minds of their own,” she replied.