In truth, the difficulty of the test Professor Vinson had arranged varied subtly from student to student. He had not announced this directly, but it was obvious from the way he assessed each attempt. Every young witch or wizard possessed a different personality, temperament, and even natural aura. As a result, the challenge of suppressing their inner emotions—and especially their hidden malice—was different for everyone. Magical creatures were extraordinarily sensitive to such things, and some reacted more sharply than others.
Hufflepuff students, for instance, generally carried an air of patience, steadiness, and kindness. This provided them with a natural advantage when interacting with magical creatures. Cedric Diggory, a model Hufflepuff if there ever was one, fit this description perfectly.
Thus, when he approached Hedwig, the magnificent Thunderbird gleaming with crackling arcs of silver-blue electricity, he encountered almost no resistance. He walked slowly, his palms open, his intention pure. Hedwig watched him quietly, her bright eyes glimmering like storm clouds, but she displayed no raise of feathers or spark of warning. Instead, her attention remained calm, curious.
Cedric stopped a respectful distance away, extended the candy Professor Vinson had provided, and waited. Hedwig tilted her head, then leaned forward gracefully and accepted the offering with her sharp, shining beak.
"Excellent, Mr. Diggory. Five points to Hufflepuff," Professor Vinson declared with clear satisfaction, applauding lightly.
"Just call me Cedric, Professor," Cedric replied, unable to hide the relieved smile spreading across his face. He had been nervous—who wouldn't be, facing a Thunderbird whose very wings could call lightning? Every book described Thunderbirds as noble but extremely dangerous creatures. Yet the moment had gone far more smoothly than he had imagined.
With Cedric's successful demonstration, the other students seemed to gain confidence. One by one, they stepped forward to attempt their own approaches.
But for some, the task was anything but simple.
A Gryffindor boy—Fred Weasley—had nearly been struck by a bolt of magical lightning only ten minutes earlier. His initial attempt had been enthusiastic to the point of recklessness, and Hedwig now kept her distance from him with exaggerated caution. Every time Fred moved forward, Hedwig took an elegant step back, as though she found his presence suspicious.
Eventually, Fred stopped, scratching his head helplessly as he glanced at Professor Vinson.
"Clear your mind, Mr. Weasley," the professor instructed patiently. "Here's a small tip—you can imagine you have the brain of a troll. It should make things much easier."
"Just pretend to be an idiot, Weasley," a nearby student snickered. "Give up your brain—you don't use it anyway."
Fred rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the advice," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. But even so, he closed his eyes and did as the professor suggested. When he opened them again, they looked distinctly unfocused—like he had successfully emptied out every stray thought.
He approached Hedwig once more. This time, she did not retreat. After watching him with an almost amused patience, she extended her beak and carefully took the treat from his palm.
Fred let out a long, shaky exhale, clearly relieved.
For many magical creatures, a pure heart—free of harmful thoughts—mattered far more than bravery or intelligence. Professor Vinson's advice to "empty the mind" was not a joke; it was a practical strategy, especially when dealing with Thunderbirds, who could sense emotional currents like air pressure in a storm.
By the end of the class, nearly every student had successfully approached and fed Hedwig. A few even managed to gently touch her feathers, though only briefly, as electricity still crackled faintly along her wings.
At last, Hedwig lifted her wings slightly and gave a graceful shake. A single feather loosened and drifted downward, floating on the light breeze until it landed directly beside Cedric's foot.
"Huh?" Cedric blinked in surprise. The surrounding students stared, wide-eyed. Almost automatically, Cedric stooped to pick up the feather with both hands, treating it with great care.
"Professor? This is…" he asked softly.
Professor Vinson's eyes flicked to the feather. A slow smile spread across his face.
"Congratulations, Cedric," he announced loudly enough for everyone to hear. "This is Hedwig's first tail feather of the season. The fact that she allowed you to pick it up means she recognizes you greatly."
Gasps rippled through the class. None of them needed to be told how precious such a feather was—Thunderbird feathers ranked among the rarest of magical materials, rivaling even those of a phoenix.
Cedric understood this well. Not only was this a Thunderbird feather—it was Hedwig's first shed feather. The honor left him momentarily speechless.
"Thank you, Hedwig," he said quietly, voice full of sincerity.
Hedwig answered with a soft, melodic chirp, a sound like distant thunder rumbling contentedly.
Then, with a sudden burst of movement, she spread her wings wide. A brilliant flash of storm-light wrapped around her as she shot into the sky like a streak of lightning. Within seconds, she vanished into the clouds overhead.
The students stared upward in awe.
Only Professor Vinson seemed unsurprised. In truth, Hedwig had simply eaten far too much. She needed time—and an open sky—to digest.
He clapped his hands to regain the class's attention. "All right, that concludes today's lesson. I trust each of you learned something valuable. Remember: magical creatures often perceive emotions more sharply than words. To interact with them properly—especially Thunderbirds—you must restrain your distracting thoughts."
At the word homework, however, every student visibly tensed. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
Professor Vinson chuckled. "Relax. There is no homework this time."
For a beat, the clearing fell silent. Then a cheer exploded through the group.
"However—" he continued, his tone stretching ominously.
The cheering abruptly died.
"I need each of you to choose several magical creatures you find interesting. Write their names on parchment and submit it to me before the next class."
The excitement dissolved into nervous murmuring.
Cedric, still admiring Hedwig's tail feather, looked up with curiosity. "Professor, will you… bring the creatures we write down?"
A hush fell. Every student held their breath.
Professor Vinson smiled, the corners of his mouth curving upward. "Of course."
The students erupted into excited chatter once more.
"Fred!" George Weasley exclaimed. "Let's pick a dragon! Charlie's photos were amazing—I want to see a real one!"
"A dragon? Are you insane?" Fred shot back. "You trying to send Professor Vinson to Azkaban? Pick something reasonable. Maybe an Acromantula—Ron will faint!"
"I want to see a Demiguise," another student said eagerly. "Its fur can be woven into an Invisibility Cloak!"
Professor Vinson's smile faltered.
These children were up to absolutely no good.
"Ahem," he interrupted. "Creatures must be Class 'XXX' or below."
A collective groan arose. Their grand ideas evaporated instantly, yet enthusiasm returned quickly as they began discussing safer—but still interesting—creatures.
Even without Hedwig present, the energy of the lesson lingered in the air like the fading scent of ozone.
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