On the 24th of July, 1991, many things changed. For the centaurs, it was The Song, for Harry Potter, it was his life as he knew it, and for Hedwig, it was her very being.

In a single moment, Hedwig had gone from a simple, if admittedly beautiful and intelligent, owl, to something else, something so much more, and, in that moment, she had felt so much smaller than she ever had, even as a hatchling, because in that moment, the world had gotten so much bigger.

Much like Harry, Hedwig’s transformation had come with a message; a thought, not her own but originating within her mind all the same.

Hey, Hedwig. Big fan.

Hope you like the upgrades. I’ll be rooting for ya.

Hedwig had no idea who, or what, this... being was, and she didn’t know why they’d called her Hedwig, or why (or how) they’d given her the new abilities she somehow knew herself to now possess. It terrified her.

She’d considered running. Where, she did not know, but she could fly so much faster now, and she was smarter, and her talons could do so much more damage; she would be safe, she knew.

But, as much as she wanted to, and as appealing as the idea sometimes was, Hedwig didn’t run. Something told her not to, that it would be better to wait. And when, five days later she met a green-eyed boy who peered at her closely and asked uncertainly, “Hedwig?” The owl was glad she’d listened.

*****

Her time in the nest of the fat man, the horse-faced woman, and the blubber boy was, to put it mildly, a challenge, but she persevered for the sake of the boy who she had come to care a surprising deal for in the little time she’d known him (especially considering how infuriating he could often be).

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Truth be told though, Hedwig’s reasoning for sticking with Harry were manyfold. She cared for him true, but her primary reason for her decision (especially before she got to know him) was because Harry knew things. And while Hedwig had never quite grasped the mechanics of how he knew the things he did, the fact remained that the young wizard was a wellspring of knowledge. Knowledge that he was only too eager to share.

In those weeks they spent at Privet Drive, Hedwig was the only one Harry had to talk to, and talk he did, about everything and nothing, even long before he realized that she could truly understand him.

It was during this time that the name Hermione Granger first came up.

It was... interesting, watching Harry talk circles around himself as he tried to argue both for and against why his absence from Hogwarts would result in her grisly demise.

Hedwig hadn’t really cared. Maybe it was the bird of prey in her, but despite how much Harry had gone on about how amazing the girl supposedly was, the owl just couldn’t bring herself to feel anything for some young witch she would probably never meet.

In the end (as she had suspected he would), Harry had decided to go to Hogwarts, stating that it was better to be safe than sorry. And then, after all of that, when the object of his ‘mission’ had walked into his compartment on The Hogwarts Express and introduced herself, he’d tried to keep her at arm’s length.

Like Hedwig would let that happen.

*****

Hermione was good for Harry.

She was a friend to Harry in ways that Hedwig herself simply couldn’t match; anything that the owl could do for the boy the girl could do better.

It stung, but Hedwig understood. More importantly, she approved, Harry needed all the friends he could get. Besides, now Hedwig could focus more on what she realized would be her responsibility; protecting Harry. And Hermione.

At least, that was what she’d told herself. But when it came time to put action to words, she had failed.

Even with all her newfound power she’d been little more than an annoyance to the snake, and not even that to Voldemort.

As Hedwig watched her charges sleep in the infirmary crowded with wounded Gryffindors, she found herself feeling quite small once again.