16 Apr 2018, 04:00
It's an owl, it's a plane!
Adriel climbed the stairs to the owlery, the weathered Great Grey Owl bobbing along on her shoulder contentedly with its great yellow eyes closed. She held in her arms a stack of pages, though, compared to the pages of the other children that made their way to the owlery, all of her pages were blank. She now hummed a small tune to the beat of her steps, a tune she had heard the muggle children sing now and again, though she couldn't remember the words for the life of her. Finally, her head broke over the surface of the owlery floor, and a hundred peaceable owls watched her bobbing head as she weaved through the owlery.
No, she was not a bit interested in the marvel of the many owls. By now, she had seen this wonder many times, and the wonder of it had indeed worn off. Today, she shuffled to a far window with minimal bird droppings in sight, and her owl opened its great yellow eyes at the sound of the other owls. With a powerful flap of its grey wings, it was off into the rafters, chasing a few smaller owls with great animosity. Adriel watched the large owl for a second, then turned back to her window. She set the papers down on the sill, careful to place a small stone from the floor of the old tower on the stack to keep the parchment from blowing out through the window over the Great Lake.
Adriel pulled a paper off the top of the stack, and crisply folded it in half. She unfolded it and made two, symmetrical and diagonal folds, then a few more. Her hands worked in practiced precision to finally fold a sleek airplane. It was a skill well-taught to her by the muggle children of the village, perhaps one of the closer hobbies they had to magic. She inspected the weight of the plane in the palm of her dominant right hand before pinching the ridge at the bottom of the figure and, with a flick of the wrist well-practiced in Charms Class, sent the plane in loop-da-loops out the window, soaring just as well as the handful of drifting owls now floating in and out of the tower on the breeze.
No, she was not a bit interested in the marvel of the many owls. By now, she had seen this wonder many times, and the wonder of it had indeed worn off. Today, she shuffled to a far window with minimal bird droppings in sight, and her owl opened its great yellow eyes at the sound of the other owls. With a powerful flap of its grey wings, it was off into the rafters, chasing a few smaller owls with great animosity. Adriel watched the large owl for a second, then turned back to her window. She set the papers down on the sill, careful to place a small stone from the floor of the old tower on the stack to keep the parchment from blowing out through the window over the Great Lake.
Adriel pulled a paper off the top of the stack, and crisply folded it in half. She unfolded it and made two, symmetrical and diagonal folds, then a few more. Her hands worked in practiced precision to finally fold a sleek airplane. It was a skill well-taught to her by the muggle children of the village, perhaps one of the closer hobbies they had to magic. She inspected the weight of the plane in the palm of her dominant right hand before pinching the ridge at the bottom of the figure and, with a flick of the wrist well-practiced in Charms Class, sent the plane in loop-da-loops out the window, soaring just as well as the handful of drifting owls now floating in and out of the tower on the breeze.
We were born with the capacity and the determination to be utterly happy all the time. Perhaps even in this we were freaks.