Dear Diary,

Sorry I haven’t written in awhile, but I have just regained my strength after being savagely attacked by a mad woman. And it all started when my master woke me up several days ago.

“There you are,” he said to me. I peeked open an eye to see my master looking up at me. I was at the very top of the vaulted ceiling and he had to strain to see me. “Get down here,” he continued. “I’ve got a letter for you.”

With a sigh- which sounded to the human ear like a low hoot- I graciously opened my wings and soared down to my master, where I precariously landed on his thin shoulder. Pig told me not to drink to much last night, but I didn’t listen to him. I had a killer hangover, but I wouldn’t ever tell him that. He’d gloat, and I hate owls that gloat.

“Right,” he started, “I know this says ‘Snuffles’ on the outside, but it’s for Sirius, okay?” he whispered.

I wanted to peck him in the eye that moment. What did he take me for? Me, Hedwig D’Oiseau-Volaille (alright, I came up with the D’Oiseau-Volaille part, but it sounded good), and he took me for an idiot.

He wished me a safe flight (a lot of good that did, as you’ll find out later) and carried me to the window, where I took off into the brilliant blue sky.

I found “Snuffles” quite easily. Not that it was a surprise to me, with my excellent bird instincts and all. He was hidden in a cave, and the only tricky part was swerving in between the trees. I ran into one once, but that wasn’t my fault. Wind carries, you know.

The mangy human greeted me gratefully, then ripped the letter out of my beak in a savage way. I hooted. Fine, be that way.

I walked (yes, walked. My wings were killing me) over to Buckbeak, who has become a good friend of mine.

“Hello,” I said pleasantly. He looked up from where he was sleeping and greeted me with a large yawn.

“G’day,” he said in his Australian accent. “What are you doing here? Delivering another letter, eh? I tell ya, I do not envy you owls.”

That stung.

“At least I’m not on the run from the law and living in a cave,” I snapped back. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Bucky.

My mum always told me when I was a young fledgling that I shouldn’t let my temper override my politeness, but I never listened to her.

And she got shot after that giant bought me, I heard. I pointedly try not to do anything she says now, because an owl that gets shot is not very wise.

Even if she is your mum.

Buck grinned at me (it was somewhat creepy. He doesn’t have teeth, so smiling makes him look like a toothless old man. I’ve told him this several times, but he doesn’t seem to care, for he hasn’t stopped grinning yet).

“Y’r rowdy today, Heg. Drank to much last night, eh?” he asked.

I was about to snap back a sassy reply when Human beckoned me towards him. I walked towards him, looking back at Buckbeak and sticking out my tongue.

He shoved a piece of parchment in my mouth (I tasted tree for weeks), and said, “Take this to Harry, alright. Take this to Harry.” Usually when people repeat things I take it as an insult to my intelligence, but I had a mad hangover right now and couldn’t have snapped him if I tried.

I stretched out my cramped wings, and prepared for flight. With everything in order after my determined ten look-overs, I flew out of the cave, with Buck laughing at my bum the whole way.

I wanted to peck him, I did.

Quickly, flying as fast as I could, I tried to make it back to the castle. It took me several days, but I almost made it. I would’ve completely made it if she hadn’t shown up.

I was in the middle of flying over the lake, when a toad-like woman started shooting red blasts from her magic stick. I wove in and out through the red blasts, cursing her the whole time. I was almost across when I felt a pain in my left wing.

Son of a-

I coasted my way to the ground, where Toady lifted me up and tried to take Snuffles’s letter from me. I wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, you-“ and then she called me something quite rude, which to this day probably has my grandmum shaking in her grave.

I screeched as loud as I could and started lashing out everywhere. In the end- after frivolous lashing in my part- she dropped me to the ground, where I bent my hurt wing wrong. With a lot of effort, I flew to the nearest window I could, trying to call out for someone to save me from that mad woman.

I had amazing luck, because the window that I first chose contained my master in perfect view. I flew as fast as I could, grimacing from the pain in my wing.

But as I have said before, the wind carries. Catching up speed, I couldn’t stop myself, so I flew into the window.

“Damn,” I muttered, and tried again.

This time I caught my master’s attention, because he walked over to the open window and grabbed me. He looked me over and poked me in my hurt wing, which is bleeding. Damn that woman.

I puffed out a bit and emitted a squeak when he poked me. He quietly apologized as I glared at him. Master excused himself from his class, (which was being taught by a freakin’ ghost) and gingerly carried me down to a woman, who healed me.

So you see, Diary, I have had an awfully tiring week. The old woman comes and checks me once in awhile, and tries to make me eat this horrible green stuff. I suppose it helps, because I feel much better now.

And Pig, if you are reading this (which I know you are) I will know. I have my ways.

Good night, Diary.





AN~ Yeah, I know owls don’t keep diaries, but I liked how this fic turned out. D’oiseau means “feather” in French, and volaille means “bird,” by the way.