By the time I turned five, the mansion had become both my playground and my training ground. Magic no longer just meant floating toys or spilled milk—it was about control, experimentation, and sometimes… chaotic discoveries.
One afternoon, as I crawled through the garden, I noticed something unusual perched atop a low branch: a small, wide-eyed owl, blinking at me with curiosity.
I froze.
An owl? Here?
"Hello there…" I squeaked, my tiny hands reaching out. The owl tilted its head, blinking in perfect rhythm with me. It let out a soft hoot, like it understood me perfectly.
Excited, I ran to the house, carrying the tiny creature—carefully, though not without a few flaps and startled hoots.
Clara, busy levitating a stack of books, looked up in surprise. "Zackie… what is that?!"
"It's an owl! Can I keep it?" I squeaked, tiny hands still gripping the fluffed-up bird.
Lina, who had returned from a brief visit to AM, burst into the room laughing. "You didn't name it yet? Or did you just kidnap it?"
I shook my head vigorously. "I just… want to keep it! Can I?"
Elena, standing in the corner with a quiet frown, tilted her head. "…An owl could be useful. For communication or magical assistance. But you must take care of it."
I nodded eagerly. "I will! I promise!"
---
The next challenge was convincing my parents.
I waddled to the dining hall, the owl perched safely on my shoulder, blinking at everyone.
"Mom! Dad!" I squeaked, pointing. "Can I keep it? Please? Please?"
My father, adjusting his glasses, looked from the owl to me. "Zackie… are you sure? Owls require care, patience, and training."
I nodded as best as a tiny toddler could. "I… I can do it!"
My mother crossed her arms, smiling softly. "Well… if you can demonstrate responsibility, perhaps."
I puffed my tiny chest. Responsibility? I'm a toddler… but I'll show them!
---
The demonstration didn't go as planned.
I tried feeding the owl a small piece of meat. The owl flapped its wings wildly, knocking over my sippy cup and a floating rattle.
"ZACKIEEE!!" Clara shouted, diving to catch the rattle.
The owl hooted indignantly, perched on my head now, wings flapping. Lina laughed hysterically, doubling over.
Even the butler muttered, "This… is a hazard."
But I didn't give up. Tiny hands steady, I calmed the owl, offering a treat again. Slowly, it ate without flapping—success!
My parents exchanged glances. My father adjusted his glasses. "Well… it seems you may have some aptitude."
My mother nodded. "Very well, Zackie. You may keep it. But you must care for it every day."
I squeaked in joy. "Yay! Thank you!"
---
The owl became my constant companion. I named it Hootle, because it hooted, obviously.
Hootle sat with me during training, floating alongside toys, or watching silently as I practiced spells. Sometimes, it flapped its wings at my mistakes, like a tiny, feathery critic.
Even the staff began to adjust. The maids grumbled about cleaning up feathers, but secretly, I think they grew fond of the little bird.
Clara rolled her eyes. "I hope you don't let Hootle cause more chaos than you already do."
Lina laughed. "He's officially part of your magical experiments now! Good luck surviving the feathers!"
Elena, as always, observed silently, making notes. "…Promising," she said simply.
And in that moment, with Hootle perched on my shoulder, I realized something important:
Magic wasn't just about floating toys or spilled milk. It was about companionship, responsibility, and learning to care for something other than yourself.
Even as a toddler, I felt… ready for the bigger challenges to come.
One flapping wing, one spilled bottle, one magical mishap at a time.
Because my journey had only just begun.
And Hootle… my little owl companion, would be by my side for all of it.