The first sun of September caressed the grounds of Hogwarts with a deceptive warmth.
In the distance, the Black Lake gleamed like a sheet of liquid obsidian, broken only by the occasional fin or suspicious bubbles from some unseen creature.
Over the Magical Creatures field (not officially, but declared as such by the new teacher), Hagrid had set up a roped enclosure with posts, and—with Kronk's help—everything had been ready since dawn.
Kronk, wearing his leather apron full of pockets (one clearly containing an egg beater, just in case things got out of hand), was arranging buckets filled with chicken livers while muttering to himself: "If it works to gain the trust of a fox with a nobility complex, it must work with hippogriffs."
The third-year students arrived in small groups, some yawning, others murmuring conspiracy theories about what creature they'd have to survive today.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle walked with that familiar mix of inherited superiority and congenital clumsiness, while Ron threw them looks that clearly meant, "I hope a dragon chews you up."
"Hippogriffs, you said?" Hermione asked, trying (unsuccessfully) to open and consult The Monster Book of Monsters.
"Looks like it," replied Harry, his eyes drifting toward Kronk, who was now… cleaning one of the creature's hooves with a five-foot toothbrush?
"Today, folks, today is the big day!" Hagrid exclaimed, walking forward with open arms. "Let me introduce you to two beauties with feathers and claws: Proudstride and Swiftwing!"
He had originally wanted to name one Buckbeak, but Kronk had made other suggestions.
From behind a shrub, two towering hippogriffs emerged.
Proudstride, with silver plumage that shimmered with blue highlights, walked as if on a fashion runway. Swiftwing, on the other hand, had golden-streaked feathers and a more impulsive gait, as if barely restraining the urge to sprint in a straight line.
"Two?" said Hermione, surprised. "I thought you were only raising one, Hagrid."
"Thanks to Kronk! He helped train them both since they were chicks. He sings them to sleep, makes them snacks, even built them an obstacle course for exercise!"
"It was fun," Kronk chimed in from the back, a small whistle hanging from his neck. "Although Swiftwing dragged me down half a hill once. Great cardio, though."
Hagrid clapped to get the students' attention, ready to explain how to communicate with hippogriffs without dying in the process. He figured it would be a good way to break the ice and meet the safety standards McGonagall had insisted on.
"To approach them, you bow and wait for their reaction," he explained, pointing with his large index finger. "If they bow back, you may move forward. If not... back away slowly." He raised his finger again. "No running."
All eyes turned to Proudstride and Swiftwing, who were now tilting their heads toward the students as if evaluating them.
"Who volunteers?" asked Hagrid expectantly.
Sure, he'd have to break a lot of hearts, but opportunities were limited!
After a brief silence (and a subtle elbow from Hermione), Harry stepped forward with a jolt. He walked calmly toward Proudstride, bowed deeply like a medieval knight… and waited. The hippogriff stared at him for a long, tense second, then lowered its head in return.
"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid shouted, beaming. "You know what? Go ahead and ride him if you want! He won't mind—just don't pull out any feathers; they hate that…"
With some nerves, Harry climbed onto Proudstride, who moved with a proud stride (no pun intended).
And then, the inevitable happened.
"I can't resist," said Kronk, swinging onto Swiftwing's back with the ease of someone used to riding unstable creatures. "A little ride, Hagrid?"
"Well… just be careful, Kronk—this better not be a—HEY, WAIT!"
Too late.
Swiftwing spread his enormous wings and launched into the air with a piercing cry, followed by Proudstride, who wasn't about to be left behind. In seconds, Kronk and Harry were flying full-speed above the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.
"A little warning next time would be nice, Kronk!" Harry shouted, laughing.
"Everything's legal if the judge didn't see it!" Kronk shouted back, pulling into a tight curve.
Down below, the students ran after the trail in the sky, while Hagrid grabbed his head with both hands.
"McGonagall's going to hang me by my boots!" he groaned—though his smile betrayed how proud he was of how healthy his hippogriffs were.
Even carrying riders, they didn't wobble in the air!
The hippogriffs skimmed the surface of the Black Lake, flying so low that their hind hooves grazed the water. Proudstride flew with grace and perfect balance, while Swiftwing took turns with near-reckless acceleration.
Kronk shouted with glee while Harry tried to decide if this was the best or most dangerous thing he'd done since the Neville's Remembrall incident.
Finally, with one last powerful flap, both hippogriffs descended to the lake's shore, raising a cloud of water and mud. Harry was panting with excitement, his hair completely tousled.
"Was that a race?" he asked.
"Of course," Kronk replied casually, dismounting. "And I won!"
The students arrived just after, breathless, with Ron yelling, "That was amazing!" gasp "I—I mean, Seamus wants a turn!"
"What?" Seamus jumped. "No way! I've got… uh… vertigo."
"Are they still alive?" Malfoy muttered, arms crossed.
Kronk gave him the Look of Disapproval, so effective that Malfoy instinctively stepped back and accidentally stepped on Goyle's foot.
Hagrid came running up, face flushed.
"Guys, that was… impressive! Though maybe next time give us a little warning before taking off like a broom…"
Hermione stared at Hagrid, speechless.
Next time?
There would be a next time?!
Kronk handed Proudstride a towel and offered Swiftwing a dried fish he pulled from one of his pockets.
"Good boy. You'll always win in my heart, even if that spiral turn was a bit risky."
From the tallest tower, McGonagall watched the scene through binoculars.
Beside her, Professor Flitwick was scribbling something in a small notebook.
"Kronk again?" Minerva sighed.
"He's quite energetic," Flitwick said with a smile. "But the students can't take their eyes off him."
"That's exactly the problem," McGonagall grumbled.
As the students walked away, chattering about the spectacle, Kronk lingered a while longer with the hippogriffs, gently stroking Swiftwing's feathers.
"Maybe we should start a racing league," he whispered. "Hippogriffs versus brooms. The thrill, the glory… I just have to figure out how to stop the hippogriffs from eating the broom riders."
And though no one heard it, Proudstride let out a sound that, if you used your imagination, sounded exactly like an elegant chuckle.