Chapter Text
A thin crack split the shell of the pitch-black egg. Edgar flinched at the quiet sound and hurriedly bent over the handcrafted egg car seat he had made with Mr Hebden's help a week prior when he had found out about the field trip. His stomach felt twisted in a mixture of excitement and utter terror. Poe had only passed away two weeks ago and Edgar knew from his psychology books that he was still in the normal grieving phase.
During the whole two weeks that he had had the egg, he had refused to leave it for even a second. Whenever he hadn't been sure where exactly it was, intense fear immediately gripped his heart that he'd lose his familiar once again. It even went to his daily, and very private, sessions with Mr Hole In The Ground.
The crack widened and started to spread into multiple until a section of shell was pushed outwards to reveal a small light brown beak.
How strange, Poe's beak had been a dark grey but maybe the magical chick's beak would turn darker over time. Edgar gently cupped the egg and whispered gentle words of encouragement to it.
The little chick determinedly kept straining against the shell and pecking at it until it managed to detach the top of the egg and climbed out. Edgar quickly held out his hands and caught the little bird. Its neck feathers were a light brown, almost the colour of sand, with darker brown stripey patterns on its long neck and head, its body covered in fuzzy dark brown feathers. It was... definitely an ostrich?
"Could've sworn Poe looked different the last time I saw him", he heard a quiet mutter behind him. Edgar's head whipped around, startled, to find the entire first year watching him intently, leaning out of their seats as far as they could, twisting in their seats or looking over the backrest.
"Is that an ostrich?", Kevin voiced the question that was probably on all their minds at the moment. Edgar looked back down at the little bird that was currently stretching its long legs cupped in his hands. It wasn't at all what he had expected, not that he was sure what he had expected in the first place, but he immediately knew that he was going to protect this little being with his life.
"He's perfect", he whispered.
The little bird raised its long neck and their eyes met. It blinked with its large black eyes and made a melodic chattering sound.
"Hello, I'm- I'm Edgar.", he said to it. "I think I'll call you Pratchett."
♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤•~▪︎♤
It quickly became apparent that Pratchett, though he had hatched from Poe's egg, was a different bird, not just in the obvious bird species and size, but also in his demeanour.
Pratchett definitely had inherited Poe's feistiness. The older he got, the less anyone was allowed to touch him or Edgar unless they wanted to earn themselves a hard peck that often drew blood or a kick with Pratchett's long feet resulting in bruised legs on the students' side.
He also had inherited Poe's habit of wanting to sit on Edgar's shoulder which quickly became a problem the more he grew, which he seemed to do at an alarming rate. Often the first-years would wait in their classrooms to see Edgar straining to drag himself into the room with a large half-grown bird trying to balance itself on the shoulder of the 11-year-old that was quickly getting too small for him, though Pratchett seemingly refused to acknowledge that fact.
The bird cage that had sat in a corner of Edgar's and Monty's room quickly was replaced with a large nest of sand, dirt, some straw, twigs and leaves. Where exactly Pratchett had managed to find straw and sand at St. Churnley's, Edgar had no idea.
He was still fearful to leave Pratchett alone though the bird didn't seem to appreciate his protectiveness as much as he should, so Edgar didn't know when or where he had gathered the materials for his nest.
Even so, Pratchett still insisted on taking his rightful place on Edgar' left shoulder. Every morning, Edgar would drag himself to class, stabilising his shoulder and arm with his right arm to avoid the giant ostrich from falling down. A perfect recipe for shoulder and back pain.
On the plus side, he did seem to agree to let Edgar continue his academic studies as long as he could either remain seated on Edgar's arm, shoulder, head, the bird wasn't picky. Alternatively, Pratchett would roam around the classroom until he found something to entertain him. It usually ended in Edgar looking over at the ostrich to find him attempting to eat a world globe, try to intimidate a high shelf or actively flirt with Mr Garrett. The short geography teacher had quickly become a favourite of Pratchett's, though Mr Garrett didn't seem to share that sentiment.
Pratchett's favourite activity seemed to be causing mayhem, preferably by stealing the teacher's personal items. In the half year that Pratchett had been with Edgar, he had stolen the Hexmaster's mortarboard five times and Mr Hinks' eyes at least fifteen which had always resulted in Edgar chasing an ostrich across school grounds until he could corner the bird and convince him to release and return the item.
Maybe Pratchett and Poe were more alike than Edgar had thought.
The more Pratchett grew, the more things Edgar found he could do with the ostrich. For one, it was much more fun to travel by ostrich which also shortened the time he took to get to places. It took the two of them a few months and many falls and minor bruises to figure out how to balance on an ostrich for Edgar and for Pratchett to balance a human on himself. But neither of them could deny that it looked rather epic when they charged into the Plagueround at Playtime, sometimes just trampling over some of the smaller monsters the enchanted forests housed. Fights became easier as well, as Pratchett didn’t hesitate to dish out pecks and kicks to the creatures that decided to attack the students.
Living with an ostrich isn't easy, but... Edgar loved the bird anyway.