Chapter 18 — The Emporium of Wings
The bell above the door tinkled as Ron pushed into Eeylops Owl Emporium. The first thing that hit him was the smell—an earthy mixture of feathers, polished brass, straw, and something faintly musky, like old parchment. The shop stretched long and tall, the ceiling high and shadowed, rafters alive with movement. Dozens of owls shifted and rustled, amber eyes and golden talons glinting in the dim light.
But the emporium sold more than owls. Rows of cages lined the walls—some plain brass, others intricate, charmed with self-cleaning enchantments. There were polished perches with soft moss, bags of dried mice stacked neatly in a corner, jars of beetles and pellets labeled in neat handwriting. Shelves displayed small accessories: waterproof scroll tubes, enchanted brushes for feathers, even tiny charm tags to prevent letters from being tampered with. A few cats in cages dozed in the back, remnants of the shop's earlier, broader trade. The hum of low chatter filled the air as witches and wizards bartered with the assistants.
A tall, bespectacled witch in green robes emerged from behind the counter, her hair streaked with silver. "Good morning," she greeted warmly. "Mrs. Eeylops, at your service. Looking for an owl today, young man?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ron said, shifting slightly under her piercing gaze. "Our family owl's… well, he's quite old. I'll need one that can handle letters for all of us, not just me."
"Ah, a family's lifeline," Mrs. Eeylops said knowingly. "Very well. You'll want something dependable, strong, but not temperamental. Come along—choose for yourself. The bond always begins with the choice."
She guided him to the main aisle, where cages stacked three high contained owls of every variety. A barn owl blinked solemnly. A small screech owl hooted indignantly as Ron passed. A pair of tawny owls preened each other, feathers soft as autumn leaves. Further down, a massive eagle owl turned its head sharply, eyes gleaming like molten gold.
Ron slowed, staring at the rows. How am I supposed to pick? he thought. What if I choose wrong? An owl isn't just a pet—it's a partner.
Then another thought occurred to him. Wait. Can the System… scan owls?
He concentrated, directing the silent command. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, faint translucent lines of text flickered into view before his eyes.
—
[Scan: Active]
—
Each owl shimmered faintly in his vision, tiny glyphs hovering above their cages: Breed. Age. Character. Bloodline. Most bore ordinary tags—"Barn Owl, 6 years, Loyal but easily tired." "Screech Owl, 3 years, Fiesty." Some had tiny notes like "Nervous" or "Excellent endurance."
And then—
One shimmer nearly blinded him.
[Magical Variant: Eagle Owl — Phoenix-line Hybrid]
Age: 2 years (Young Adult)
Character: Majestic. Fiercely Loyal. Highly Intelligent. Protective.
Bloodline: Phoenix Ancestry (diluted).
Special Traits: Iridescent plumage. Golden eyes glow when carrying urgent messages. Emits low melodic hums. Strong bond potential with wizard of unique trajectory.
Ron's breath caught. The owl was magnificent—vast, with deep amber and chestnut plumage tipped in fiery streaks. Its golden eyes met his and seemed to narrow knowingly, as though judging him. The feathers shimmered faintly with each shift, light playing along the edges like embers in a hearth.
"That one," Ron whispered.
Mrs. Eeylops raised a brow. "You've sharp eyes, lad. That eagle owl's a rare one. Stubborn as anything, but once bonded…" She let the words trail, as though testing Ron's resolve.
Ron grinned faintly. "I'll call him Mr. Stark."
"Mr. Stark?" Mrs. Eeylops echoed, clearly bemused.
"Yeah," Ron said, eyes gleaming with something she couldn't name. Iron Man would've liked him, he thought. Strong. Brilliant. Unshakable. Just what I need.
The eagle owl shifted on its perch, letting out a low, resonant hum that rolled through the air like a note from a cello. Ron swore it sounded almost approving.
For the first time in a while, he felt certain of his choice.