It was an unusually sunny morning at Hogwarts, which usually meant only one thing: something deeply ridiculous was about to happen.

Harry was eating toast in the Great Hall when Dobby the house-elf suddenly appeared beside him, looking more panicked than usual.

“Harry Potter, sir! You must not go to Care of Magical Creatures today! Terrible, chicken-shaped danger awaits!”

Harry frowned. “Chicken-shaped danger?”

Before he could ask for clarification, Hagrid came stomping into the hall carrying a… very large, very rubbery chicken under one arm. The chicken’s eyes glowed faintly purple.

“This here’s Cluckthulhu,” Hagrid announced proudly. “She’s harmless—unless ye try to take her eggs. Then she can… well… erase a man’s memory of the entire 1980s.”

“Why the 1980s specifically?” Ron asked.

Hagrid shrugged. “Nobody knows. Chickens are mysterious creatures.”

Hermione, who was already flipping through Magical Beasts You Should Definitely Avoid, muttered, “This thing’s not even in the book. That’s a bad sign.”

The Problem

By lunchtime, Cluckthulhu had escaped. Witnesses reported she’d been spotted in the library, the Prefects’ Bathroom, and somehow on the roof of the Astronomy Tower, leaving behind a trail of scrambled eggs and faint accordion music.

Even worse, Draco Malfoy was going around telling everyone that whoever caught the chicken would gain “unimaginable magical power” and “probably get out of doing homework for a year.”

Naturally, chaos erupted.

The Chase

Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided they had to catch the chicken before someone got hurt—or before Peeves the poltergeist found it, which could end in the school being declared uninhabitable.

They chased Cluckthulhu through moving staircases, across the Quidditch pitch, and once, inexplicably, through a painting of a 17th-century wizard baking pies.

At one point, the chicken stopped, looked Harry dead in the eye, and said in a deep, echoing voice:
“THE FEATHERED ONE SHALL DECIDE YOUR FATE.”

Then it pecked his shoelace and ran off again.

The Climax

Finally, they cornered Cluckthulhu in the Potions classroom. Unfortunately, Snape was there, looking more annoyed than usual.

“Potter,” Snape drawled, “if you have brought a rubber chicken into my classroom, I will—”

He was cut off as Cluckthulhu let out a war cry and laid an egg that exploded into glitter, confetti, and a strong smell of cinnamon.

Everyone stood in stunned silence.

Then Dobby popped in again, grabbed the chicken, and said, “Crisis averted, Harry Potter, sir! The Chicken of Destiny must return to the dimension of Bargain Bin Farm Animals!”

With a loud pop, they were gone.

The Aftermath

No one ever spoke of it again—except Ron, who sometimes claimed the chicken still sent him telepathic birthday wishes.

And deep down, Harry suspected that somewhere, in some strange dimension, Cluckthulhu was watching… and waiting.