Remember how sometimes I do that thing where I write from a cat's perspective? Welp, now it's Hedwig's turn! As Captain of the Catapults for R4 of QLFC, I had to write from the perspective of a magical creature - an owl, for me! :) I do so love my little Hedwig.

The Boy called her Hedwig, and she rather liked that name; she felt it was very distinguished and suited her nicely. To her, he was the Boy because he was not the slightest bit hairy, no matter what anyone said, and she felt it would be rude to suggest otherwise.

"Hello, Hedwig," he would say in those early days when she first came to live with him. He would then open up a rustling purple bag and slip something tasty through the bars of her small house—the Boy called it her cage. She would hoot back to thank him, and the Boy would look at her in a way that made Hedwig ruffle her feathers happily.

The place that the Boy lived in was smaller, but not as busy as the place she had come from, which teemed with other creatures who chirruped, growled, and hooted all night long. Although the noise hadn't really disturbed her, except in the daylight hours when Hedwig preferred to sleep, she had found the place cramped, uncomfortable, and much too full of loud, aggressive owls with whom she didn't get along.

It was, to say the least, a relief to find the Boy. He did not seem to mind that she slept in the daytime; on the contrary, he left her quite alone to sleep when she came in from her nightly hunts.

However, not long after she had found the Boy, Hedwig woke up from a pleasant nap only to find that she had been shut into her cage—just the way it had been in her first home! The Boy had closed the door and fastened it with something heavy that clanked and clicked when Hedwig poked at it with her beak. Ignoring her indignation at being shut up, the Boy spent most of the night puttering around their room, putting things in a long box on the floor, which he finally closed and sat down upon. He turned and gave her the same look that normally made her feel very happy; she, however, happened to be feeling rather sulky and had ruffled her feathers, turning her head away from him.

"Are you excited, Hedwig?" the Boy had asked as he leaned his small face very close to her cage, his green eyes wide with excitement. "We're going to Hogwarts tomorrow."

Hedwig had simply gazed at him, unsure of how to respond. She didn't have the slightest idea what a Hogwarts was, or why they were going someplace new when she had just gotten used to this new room, and so she gave him a loud screech. He had then prodded a few of her usually favorite tasty bits down onto the floor of her cage, but, in a fit of pique, she had ignored them and tucked her head firmly under her wing again to communicate her displeasure.

It transpired, however, that Hedwig should not have been worried, nor should she have carried on so. The Hogwarts was a wonderful place, and Hedwig quickly realized that she was not the only one who felt that way. The Boy seemed to radiate happiness whenever she saw him—sometimes, even in the company of other creatures just like him! And Hedwig made an effort to visit him quite frequently, even when she didn't have anything to bring him. Sometimes, he asked her to deliver things for him just like the other owls, and sometimes, she brought back things for him.

Hedwig felt they could have continued in this way for ages. It was so lovely to have such freedom, to hunt and sleep when she pleased, dropping in on the Boy, who would give her treats and stroke her feathers. Soon, the memory of her time in the dark, noisy place where she had first come from faded. All that mattered anymore, even during those strange times that the Boy returned to his small, cramped room and she was locked up tight in her cage, were the days Hedwig spent at the Hogwarts with her Boy.

The days came and went in quick succession; in that time, the Boy grew up, and Hedwig came to regard herself as a truly deft flyer and trusted deliverer of important missives. As a matter of fact, only once in all that time did she ever fail in her duty—a terrible creature with grasping, clutching claws and a terrible, snapping voice once snared her with an invisible net and took the letter she had been carrying from the Man-Dog for her Boy. Hedwig had fought the Beast furiously, but it was no use.

"Enough—wretched, filthy bird!" the Beast had snarled, tightening its grip painfully on Hedwig's wing and wresting the letter away. It then released Hedwig, who toppled over sideways onto her injured wing, too shocked to move, lying in a trembling heap on the floor.

Then, before she could fully collect herself again, Hedwig had been set on her feet as the nasty, frog-like Beast re-attached the letter to her leg. One hand gripped her tightly while the other tried to straighten her feathers, and Hedwig had seized her chance—she gave another loud hoot and snapped her beak downwards, taking a vicious swipe at the fingers clutching her. Then, though her injured wing had thrown her off-balance, she hurtled towards the window, worrying about nothing but escaping. All she had known in that moment was that she needed to find her Boy, and he would take care of her—he would know what to do, she just knew it.

And her Boy had known what to do, even if he'd given Hedwig a great scare by giving her away to a stranger without so much as a word of explanation. It turned out that this stranger was very gentle and kind, but Hedwig felt that it wouldn't have killed the Boy to offer her some sort of explanation.

Overall, however, throughout the many days they had together, their disagreements were few and far between, and Hedwig always, always forgave her Boy—even when he was being stupid. As a matter of fact, after spending so much time together, the only point at which they consistently quarreled anymore was when it came down to her cage, and tonight had been no exception.

Hedwig hated her cage, and the Boy knew this, so she didn't see why, after all this time, it was still necessary. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, as she had tried to make the Boy see, to no avail; though she had pecked and screeched and made as great a ruckus as she possibly could, the Boy still managed to coax her into her cage under false pretenses—luring her with her favorite treats from the rustling purple packet—and shut her in. She was sulking now, as was her custom when he tricked her like this; how did it always work on her?

The Boy was packing for something when he locked her away, she could tell that much, though he didn't seem to be packing very much. Hedwig hooted and screeched, and still the Boy moved around his tiny room, moving things as he pulled them from the long box he normally took to the Hogwarts. Upon finding that the Boy was ignoring her indignation entirely, Hedwig tucked her head securely under her wing and brooded. Even when she was in a good mood, Hedwig didn't like this house where the Boy's tiny living place was, because there was always a large, purple Monster howling and yelling about something or other. Tonight, however, it was strangely quiet.

She began to doze, and was only dimly aware of the Boy picking up her cage and carrying it somewhere else. He spoke to her as well, but her head was tucked so comfortably underneath her wing that she could not really be bothered to respond to him.

"Don't you want to take a last look at the place?" the Boy asked her.

Hedwig allowed her mind to drift as she nodded off again; perhaps she would be allowed out of her cage when she and the Boy got to wherever they were going, and then she could hunt as she liked. Then, a wonderful thought occurred to her—perhaps they were going back to the Hogwarts already!

Deciding that she was too curious to continue feigning sleep, Hedwig poked her head up from beneath her wing—and screeched in shock. Standing before her were no fewer than seven copies of her Boy!

Hedwig looked this way and that, but all seven of them were busy, talking to each other, putting on strange clothes, and not worried about the nasty surprise they had given her in the slightest. She gave a low hoot of distress, and one of the Boys came toward her.

"Hey," he said, "it's okay. You'll be with me the whole time, all right? No problem."

He poked a finger through her cage, and Hedwig moved closer, allowing him to stroke her head; she could tell by his smell—this was her Boy, and he was right. Soon they would be at the Hogwarts, or wherever they were going, and she would be let out of her cage again. She gave a soft hoot and nipped his finger affectionately.