"Did you truly succeed? And by using the method I taught you?" Vinson asked, eyeing Roskin with a hint of disbelief. He couldn't keep the suspicion out of his tone.
Roskin raised an eyebrow, clearly offended. "Are you looking down on me? I happen to be the best Magical Creatures breeder of our era. The method you suggested was quite clever, but hardly beyond my ability. You must have tested it yourself, right?"
Vinson nodded slightly, though uncertainty lingered in his heart.
The best breeder of Magical Creatures today?
He had never heard of her. Not even once. Still, Roskin's unwavering confidence made him swallow his doubt. And the young creature peeking out of the wooden box before them certainly showed no fear of her. In fact, it leaned gently into her hand, as though it had long been accustomed to her touch.
"Can I approach it?" Vinson asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.
"Of course," Roskin said with a small, proud smile. She gestured for him to move closer. "It's been trained very well. As long as you don't harbor any harmful intentions toward it, it won't resist."
"That won't be a problem," Vinson replied without hesitation.
He rarely—if ever—released harmful intent.
Slowly, he extended a hand toward the young Thunderbird, careful not to startle it. The creature let out a soft chirp and, to Vinson's relief, leaned forward, brushing its beak against his fingers. Not only was it unafraid—it seemed to enjoy the contact.
"Will you come with me?" Vinson asked softly.
The Thunderbird chirped twice in response, eyes bright and full of spirit.
"You really do have a natural affinity with it," Roskin admitted, though a trace of reluctance colored her voice. "Perhaps you possess talent in Care of Magical Creatures. Still, you're a long way from my level. If it were me—"
Vinson had long stopped listening. His focus remained on the Thunderbird, marveling at its gentle nature and the faint crackle of dormant lightning in its feathers.
After a moment, he spoke. "Since it seems to like me… if I want to buy it, how much would it cost?"
A faint smile tugged at Roskin's lips. "If you truly want this Thunderbird," she said lightly, "it's free."
Vinson froze, then instinctively stepped back. "What do you want from me?"
Roskin let out an exasperated sound. "I don't want anything. Thunderbirds are rare and valuable, yes—"
"Ten thousand Galleons," Vinson cut in, naming the first reasonable number in his mind.
"What?" Roskin blinked in shock. "No, wait—how much did you just offer?"
"Ten thousand Galleons." Vinson repeated it calmly.
"No, no, no!" Roskin waved her hands quickly, as if physically pushing the number away. "I'm not taking your Galleons, and I'm not charging you for any of the Magical Creatures on your list either."
"Then what do you want?" Vinson asked, genuinely puzzled.
Roskin's expression softened. "If possible, I'd like to become a sponsor for Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures class."
"Become a sponsor?" Vinson frowned. "With all due respect, even if you succeed, there's no real benefit for you."
Roskin gave a quiet, knowing laugh. "You needn't concern yourself with my reasons. All I ask is that, during class, you mention that those Magical Creatures were provided by me."
Vinson paused, thinking it through. It didn't take long for him to understand.
She wasn't seeking money—she was seeking reputation.
A connection to Hogwarts would elevate her credibility as a breeder. If students trained with creatures from her shop, her reputation would spread naturally. For someone in her profession, that was far more valuable than Galleons.
"Alright," Vinson agreed. "I can do that."
It wasn't difficult, and honestly…
Who didn't like receiving valuable things for free?
"But," he added, "you have to prepare all the Magical Creatures I requested."
"Of course," Roskin said confidently. "That is the most basic part of our agreement. Thank you for your trust, Mr. Vinson."
After leaving Roskin's shop, Vinson returned to Hogwarts carrying both the small suitcase and the young Thunderbird. The space inside the suitcase was clearly just a temporary habitat—clean, comfortable enough, but not suitable for the long term.
Fortunately, the Thunderbird was extraordinarily well-behaved for a creature known for its sensitivity. It made no complaint, no cry of discontent. Roskin had indeed trained it with great care.
Still, Vinson couldn't leave it confined to such a small space all day. So the first thing he did upon arriving back at Hogwarts was guide the Thunderbird into his Plantation.
Once settled, he headed straight for the storage warehouse.
"I remember it should be here somewhere… Ah, found it."
He lifted a small jar into the light. Inside it rested a single dry, withered twig.
Name: Twig
Type: Elm
Level: 2
Trait: Thunderstorm Summon
This small piece was all that remained of a mutated elm tree he had once grown. According to the Tree of Wisdom, that elm had possessed the rare and powerful trait known as Thunderstorm Summon—the ability to call forth minor thunderstorms around itself.
And Thunderbirds—creatures born of storms and lightning—thrived in such environments. Lightning never harmed them; in fact, storm energy empowered them.
It was the perfect match.
Vinson's thoughts drifted to the past. Years ago, he had raised an adult Thunderbird. At that time, he also possessed a large, thriving elm with the same trait. But although the tree could summon thunderstorms, it couldn't defend itself from the lightning it called down.
One afternoon, shortly after the Thunderbird flew away, a bolt of lightning—one summoned by the elm itself—struck the tree. It burst apart, leaving nothing behind except the small twig Vinson now held.
A rare plant that could alter the weather, destroyed by its own gift.
He couldn't help feeling a pang of regret.
But now… now he had another chance.
To cultivate a new elm tree with the ability to summon thunderstorms, he needed only to locate a suitable elm, brew a Growth Potion infused with the "Thunderstorm Summon" trait, and apply it. If the mutation didn't appear, he could keep trying.
The only issue was that the potion required his blood as a key ingredient. Using too much would make him anemic. He also needed time and effort to gather a strong elm sapling.
Which led him to his next step.
He headed for Shed Number Two, where Professor Lupin was feeding the Torch—a creature that always demanded careful handling.
"What?" Lupin looked up, baffled after hearing Vinson's request. "You want me to help you find a few good-looking elm trees? What exactly do you plan to do with them?"
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