I cast aside my downy pride, all heaven's things--they clipped my wings

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*It's a short ways east of Rook House, the little Owlery. He'd bought the thirty-odd barns and tawnies when he'd launched the Quibbler, and had spent the better part of a week building them all a home. He's a decent carpenter and has always had an eye for design, and it turned out a comfortable sort of place for an owl: a little wooden tower, circular and green-painted, open under the eaves. He's good about mucking it out regularly, so it doesn't smell too bad even in the middle of summer. The owls aren't terribly friendly and seem to prefer one another's company to Xeno's, but they're professional and make deliveries quickly. All in all, he's proud of his little fleet, and that's reflected in the care he takes with them.

It's almost dawn, now, and the owls are just roosting, settling to sleep in little clusters. Xenophilius is in the habit of rising early, but not this early; over in Rook House, he's still in his huge and empty bed, making room for a Clover who isn't there and deep in dreamless sleep.*

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James isn’t all too pleased about what he’s been asked to do, but put in perspective, it could’ve been worse. He can be very quiet when he needs to, and he slips inside the Owlery without a sound. The owls don’t seem to notice his entrance, most of them now sleeping. Taking a small bowl, he fills it with a bit of water, and a bit of whatever Crouch had someone brew up for this little assignment. He heads to a cluster of about five birds, and nudges them gently. It doesn’t take much to get them to drink. When he pulls the bowl away, an owl pecks his finger, hard.

Fuck, James thinks, as he sucks the side of his finger. It was pretty deep— he’d have to try and heal that up before he got home. If Lily saw it—if Lily knew that he was doing—shit. Not only had Lily gotten close to Xeno, but whatever she had been intending to write for him now wouldn’t get published—although that wasn’t exactly a bad thing, if he’s thinking about her safety.

A trio of owls coo graciously as James gives the drink, and the guilt beings to set in. James hasn’t ever killed anything larger than a doxy—well, there was that mishap with the salamander 4th year, but whether the blame lies on him or Sirius for that one is still a mystery. James pushes his guilt aside, repeating to himself that they aren’t people, and he’s reminded of Lily, telling him how afraid she was of becoming desensitized, and here he is, trying to make it happen. While he figured it's easier to desensitize yourself to killing an animal rather than a person, James supposes he’s taken the first step.

He finishes, and the Owlery is deathly quiet. The cut is on his wand hand, so he doesn’t do a great job of healing it up, but he doesn’t think Lily will notice. The task was done, and his job was safe. As he opens the door to leave, an owl falls to the ground with a soft ‘thud’.