"First Flight, Red Sparks"
"Come on, I've got a great lesson for yeh today!" announced Hagrid enthusiastically, leading the students toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His voice echoed with good cheer, though many of the students hesitated before following, exchanging uneasy glances at the dark line of trees rising before them.
"Don't worry," said the half-giant, noticing the fear on their young faces. "We're only goin' in a little bit, not too far. Ye'll still be able to see the castle through the trees."
His words seemed to calm them somewhat, though the air remained thick with tension. Ever since the dementors had begun patrolling the outskirts of the forest, every shadow seemed deeper and every branch more menacing. Even so, the students followed Hagrid—reluctantly, but obediently.
As he had promised, they didn't go far. From where they stopped, Hagrid's hut was still visible in the distance, and the castle towers rose faintly above the mist. It looked as though Hagrid had been working near the forest recently; a makeshift paddock stretched around them, enclosed by small wooden fences forming an almost perfect circle, as if he had been building a small farm or training area.
"All right, class! Gather over there and open yer books to page forty-nine," Hagrid instructed in his best "professor" tone, crossing his arms with an important air.
"And how exactly are we supposed to open this thing?" asked Terry uneasily, holding his copy between his hands. The book twitched slightly, almost as if it were breathing. Its cover was covered in short fur, several tiny eyes blinked independently across its surface, and a wide mouth tried to bite through the leather belt keeping it shut.
"Well, ye've got to stroke its spine," Hagrid replied without thinking, looking at the student as though it were obvious. Then he caught himself, straightened up, and added in a more formal tone, "That is… gently stroke the back of the book."
Daphne, Hermione, Draco, and Harry took out their own copies. Daphne's was thrashing wildly, desperate to escape. Hermione's, in contrast, was perfectly calm, almost tame. Draco's stared at him with a malevolent glint, as if waiting to be freed so it could bring chaos to the world. And Harry's… well, it looked dead. Or perhaps it was pretending, with unnerving dedication.
"Why do yours look so weird?" asked Hermione, eyeing the three of them suspiciously.
Draco shrugged, looking just as confused. "No idea. I left mine with Dobby for a while, but the poor thing was nearly killed, so I had to lock it up in the most secure chest at home."
"I gave mine Muggle energy drinks," Daphne said with a mischievous smile.
"Why on earth would you—" began Hermione, astonished, before groaning and turning toward Harry, who was calmly examining his book with mild curiosity.
"I have no idea," he said serenely.
Following Hagrid's instructions, they all stroked the exact spot along the spine. One by one, the books relaxed and went still, allowing themselves to be opened safely. All except Harry's, which remained motionless—still playing dead, perhaps reconsidering its performance.
"I wonder why we're not using Mr. Scamander's book instead," Hermione murmured as she flipped through the pages, noticing how outdated and annotated the text appeared.
"It's Hagrid," Harry said calmly. "He probably thought they looked cute."
He turned the pages until reaching the assigned chapter. There, a hand-drawn sketch depicted a majestic creature—an eagle with the body of a horse… or perhaps a horse with the head and wings of an eagle, depending on how one looked at it.
Meanwhile, Hagrid had vanished into the trees in search of something he didn't bother to explain. The group gathered near a large boulder, opening their books and chatting idly, until a grating voice broke the peace.
"What a disgusting place. That oaf dragged us into his pigsty. Maybe he's going to show us how he bathes in mud," sneered Luis Carrow, kicking a nearby rock with visible disgust. His Slytherin companions burst into laughter. "Maybe we should tell our parents that Dumbledore's got that oversized hog teaching us. I bet he never even finished school," he added smugly, earning another round of chuckles.
"You really don't learn to shut up, do you?" Draco said calmly, his expression unreadable. "Or do you actually enjoy being thrown around? Maybe you're one of those who likes being punished by others."
"It was just a coward's sneak attack," Luis replied arrogantly, glancing at Harry as if daring him to do it again.
Harry looked up briefly, then returned to reading, focused on the section about hippogriffs.
That simple act of indifference only made Carrow angrier. But before he could open his mouth again, Hagrid reappeared—this time carrying over his shoulders what looked like otters, rabbits, and other small dead animals hanging from his belt and arms.
Carrow immediately recoiled, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief to block the supposed stench, his face twisting in disgust.
Hagrid, however, was oblivious. His face beamed with excitement; this was, after all, his first official lesson as a professor.
"Surprise!" he announced joyfully, clearly expecting gasps of awe and amazement.
From between the trees emerged an enormous creature with silver-gray feathers. Its head and wings belonged to a massive eagle, its golden eyes sharp and intelligent, and its talons gleamed in the filtered sunlight. The rear half, however, was that of a horse—strong, sleek, and elegant.
Hagrid tossed one of the smaller carcasses toward the creature. "Ain't he beautiful? Everyone, meet Buckbeak," he said proudly.
The students watched the hippogriff with curiosity, though not with the awe Hagrid had anticipated. His smile faltered slightly, confusion flickering across his face.
"Eh? Not impressed? It's a hippogriff! Doesn't that amaze yeh, even a little?" he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed by their indifference.
"Well…" Daphne spoke first, her tone amused. "We should be surprised, but…" She pointed toward a section of the forest.
Between the trees, several massive heads peeked out—at first three, then five. Three belonged to a colossal black dog, its eyes gleaming like coals; another was red-scaled and horned—a small dragon; and the last was white, with a gleaming silver horn—a unicorn. All three were watching the class intently… or more precisely, watching Buckbeak, as though assessing him as a potential recruit for their strange little group.
Upon realizing they had been discovered, the trio of creatures turned around and fled into the forest, their thunderous footsteps and the crack of breaking branches echoing through the trees.
"It would be surprising if those three weren't wandering around the castle all the time," Daphne commented with an amused smile. "Last time they even snuck into the Great Hall and stole part of Gryffindor's dinner."
Hagrid placed a hand on his head, finally understanding why his hippogriff hadn't caused the reaction he'd expected.
"Eh… well… let's set the surprise aside," he muttered, trying to hide his disappointment at the failed attempt to impress the class. "Let's continue with the lesson on hippogriffs," he added, regaining some enthusiasm.
"Hippogriffs are very proud creatures," he explained in a firmer tone. "So you must never offend them. They anger easily… and if that happens, well, that'd be the last thing you'd ever do."
He ended his warning with a nervous smile, trying to keep the mood light. "All right then, who wants to greet him first?"
Immediately, all the students took a cautious step back—everyone except one. Harry, absorbed in his book, hadn't heard a single word.
When Hagrid turned around, he found him standing right at the front, directly facing Buckbeak.
"That's it, Harry, very good," he said approvingly, clearly pleased. "No need to be afraid."
Harry lifted his gaze from the book, looked at Hagrid, then at the hippogriff, and finally at his friends. Daphne gave him a mischievous smile, Hermione looked slightly guilty, and Draco… gave him a thumbs-up with the face of someone who had just sold his friend to a hippogriff.
Harry sighed in resignation, closed his book, and tossed it toward Draco without a word. The blond barely managed to catch it, taking a step back from the weight and the force with which Harry had thrown it.
"Good, now come closer, Harry," said Hagrid with a smile. "Let him make the first move, and be polite."
Harry walked forward with a somewhat tired expression, though a faint glimmer of curiosity appeared in his eyes as he got closer to the creature. Fear, however, was entirely absent.
"Stop there," instructed Hagrid. "Now bow and wait to see if he returns the gesture."
Harry raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly with a hint of irritation. The gesture seemed unnecessary to him; he was proud too—perhaps a bit too much.
His friends, though standing behind him, could almost picture his face perfectly and couldn't help but smile.
"Go on, Harry," urged Hagrid.
The boy took a quiet breath before bowing slightly. Not too low—just enough to show respect without submission. His eyes met Buckbeak's, calm and steady.
The hippogriff studied him carefully, analyzing every movement. But then, for a brief moment, its sharp eyes shifted beyond Harry, toward the forest. Between the trees, a crimson silhouette watched intently: Red, the dragon, sitting with a menacing air, silently overseeing the scene.
The dragon's gaze seemed to convey a clear message: If you even think the boy before you will bow to anyone… it'll be the last thing you ever do.
Buckbeak turned his attention back to Harry, now with a renewed interest. After a few tense seconds, he lowered his head quickly in acknowledgment.
"That's it!" exclaimed Hagrid excitedly.
Harry straightened up and glanced toward the forest. Red was gone.
"You can pet him now, Harry, go on," said Hagrid, noticing his distraction.
Harry stepped forward slowly but confidently, his movements calm and deliberate. He raised his hand softly and extended it toward the hippogriff.
Buckbeak's golden eyes followed the hand, then met Harry's, before lowering his head of his own accord. He allowed Harry to touch him, his feathers smooth and warm to the touch, softer than silk.
Hagrid blinked in surprise. Even he hadn't managed to earn Buckbeak's trust so quickly.
"That's it, Harry," he murmured proudly.
Harry smiled faintly as he stroked the creature's neck. "Sorry about that. Red tends to be a bit… overprotective," he said with a hint of humor.
The students began to applaud, genuinely excited by the sight.
"All right! Looks like he'll let you ride him," Hagrid declared suddenly, taking Harry completely by surprise.
Before the boy could protest, Hagrid grabbed him firmly under the arms and lifted him off the ground as if he were a small child.
Daphne burst out laughing, so loud it made even a few Ravenclaws chuckle, while Harry's expression remained flat and unamused.
"Hold on tight—and don't go pulling at his feathers, he won't like that," Hagrid warned, giving Buckbeak an encouraging pat.
The hippogriff neighed softly before breaking into a run, its powerful legs pounding the ground. Moments later, it spread its massive wings and shot upward into the sky.
Harry held on tightly, instinctively channeling his chaos magic to steady himself. Not that he was worried about falling; if that happened, he could simply float—but he preferred not to make a scene.
The wind lashed against his face with a fierce yet liberating force. As they climbed higher, the castle grew smaller beneath them, and the dark lake stretched outward, shimmering faintly under the sunlight.
For the first time in a long while, Harry felt truly free.
The wind roared in his ears as his thoughts scattered, carried away by the rush of air. The constant weight in his chest eased, replaced by something light, warm, almost joyful.
He let go of Buckbeak's neck and spread his arms wide, letting the air embrace him completely.
"Woohoo!" he shouted, the cry bursting from deep within his chest.
His hair whipped wildly around him, and a faint red aura flared to life, wrapping around both him and Buckbeak. In that instant, their speed increased dramatically, almost supernaturally. The world warped for a heartbeat, as if they had passed through an invisible gate, reappearing suddenly over another stretch of the lake.
Harry opened his eyes in surprise. It was… different. Not apparition, not flight, not any magic he recognized. It resembled his mother's spatial jumps—though less refined, more instinctive.
A thrill of excitement lit up his face.
Buckbeak beat his wings again, vanishing in brief red flashes before reappearing several meters ahead.
Puff… puff… puff.
From afar came a sharp whistle—Hagrid calling them back.
The hippogriff turned gracefully in midair and began its descent in a wide arc, gliding back toward the clearing. Harry, heart racing, breathed heavily—exhausted, exhilarated, and smiling.
As the ground drew near, he closed his eyes for a second, calming himself. Buckbeak landed with elegance, galloping a few steps before stopping completely.
The silence that followed was broken only by the students' cheers and the sound of delighted applause.
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