"Whatever you do, don't upset a Hippogriff," Hagrid warned, his voice carrying over the rustling leaves. "They're proud creatures, and you've got to respect them."
He stepped forward, demonstrating with a flourish. "First thing you do is bow, like this."
"If they bow back, you're good to climb on. If they don't, well, you'd better back off quick. Means they're either in a mood or, y'know, feeling a bit… frisky."
Hagrid had a knack for magical creatures, no question. No matter how fierce or wild, he could charm them into playing nice. Probably because he and Dudley shared that same stubborn streak of "understanding" when it came to beasts.
"Who wants to go first?" Hagrid asked, gesturing toward the Hippogriffs, their sharp claws glinting in the sunlight.
The whole class—Malfoy, Neville, Harry, everyone—took a collective step back, eyeing the creatures' powerful wings and half-foot-long talons.
But when everyone steps back, the one who stays put might as well have stepped forward.
"Nice one, Dudley!" Hagrid boomed, clapping his massive hands. "Brave lad, you go on and give it a try."
Dudley blinked, caught off guard. Well, if he was being called out, might as well roll with it. He scanned the herd and zeroed in on a Hippogriff with sleek black feathers—the strongest-looking of the dozen. Dudley wasn't about to squash some poor creature under his weight. He still remembered how none of the unicorns could handle him.
"This one's called Pickpick," Hagrid said, giving the Hippogriff a hearty pat before stepping aside. As Dudley strode forward, Hagrid called out, "Remember, bow first, like I showed—"
But before he could finish, a string of odd, guttural sounds spilled from Dudley's mouth.
Hagrid froze. "Dudley, don't get too close! It's dangerous!"
"BOW!" Hagrid shouted, panic creeping into his voice. "You've got to bow!"
If a student got mauled on the first day of class, that'd be a disaster.
Dudley, ignoring him, looked straight into Pickpick's golden eyes. "Can I ride you?"
Hagrid's jaw dropped. "Hippogriffs are proud creatures! Without a bow, they'll—"
He was already charging forward, ready to intervene, when something unbelievable happened. Pickpick, facing Dudley's bold approach, slowly lowered its head and bent its front legs in a bow.
Hagrid skidded to a halt, stunned. He knew Hippogriffs better than anyone—this was Pickpick giving permission to ride. But… how? Dudley hadn't even bowed!
"Don't worry, Professor Hagrid," Dudley said with a grin, making a small, casual gesture. "I know a bit of Hippogriff tongue."
He swung a leg over Pickpick's back. The creature staggered slightly under his weight, its legs trembling, but it held firm. Say what you will, Hippogriffs—descendants of griffins—were a lot sturdier than unicorns.
Hermione, standing nearby, caught on quick. Those strange sounds Dudley made sounded awfully like a Hippogriff's call. "Hippogriff speech?" she blurted out.
A wave of gasps and whispers rippled through the class.
"Of course Mr. Dursley knows something as obscure as that!"
Pickpick took a few shaky steps forward with Dudley aboard, then stopped dead. Hagrid, scratching his head, called out, "Why's it not flying?"
Why? Because Dudley was too heavy, that's why. The poor creature's legs were practically shaking under the strain. If Hippogriffs weren't so proud, Pickpick would've collapsed by now.
Dudley slid off, a touch of disappointment in his eyes. "Shame," he muttered. He'd been hoping to feel the rush of flight. Guess he'd have to stick to dragons for that.
Somewhere deep in the Forbidden Forest, a nearly full-grown dragon nicknamed "Charizard" sneezed, a puff of flame shooting from its nostrils as a chill ran down its spine.
"Dudley's set a fine example!" Hagrid said, clapping his hands. "Who's next to give these little fellas a go?"
Only Hagrid would call a Hippogriff a "little fella." Truth be told, he'd love to ride one himself, but he and Dudley had the same problem—no creature could handle their weight. Maybe a Basilisk could manage it?
The other students weren't exactly jumping at the chance. They exchanged glances, none eager to be the next guinea pig.
Seeing no volunteers, Hagrid pointed. "Harry, you're up. Try this one—Buckbeak. He's the gentlest of the lot."
Dudley's stunt had rattled Hagrid, so he picked the safest option.
Harry followed Hagrid's instructions, bowed properly, and climbed onto Buckbeak. Up he went, soaring into the sky. Just like Hagrid promised, he loved it. Who wouldn't want to ride a Hippogriff?
The kids on the ground stared up, green with envy. Harry's success lit a spark, and soon everyone was bowing to the Hippogriffs, eager for their turn. The poor creatures looked baffled, returning bows left and right.
Dudley, watching the chaos, swore he wasn't jealous. Not one bit.
He sidled up to Hagrid and lowered his voice. "Professor Hagrid, how're those carnivorous slugs doing?"
Hagrid's rugged face flushed slightly at the "Professor" title. "They're doin' alright," he said gruffly.
His magical snail-breeding project was coming along nicely. The carnivorous slugs were thriving in his backyard. "Some of 'em have started laying eggs. Shouldn't be long before they hatch."
"Thanks, Professor," Dudley said warmly.
"No, no, don't thank me!" Hagrid waved a hand, flustered. "I should be thankin' you. If you hadn't put in a word with Dumbledore, I wouldn't be teachin' Care of Magical Creatures."
That's right—Dudley was the one who'd recommended Hagrid for the job.
"You earned it," Dudley said. Hagrid might not be a book-smart wizard, but when it came to hands-on creature knowledge, he was unmatched.
"Oh, and Professor? I really like Pickpick. Mind if I come by to feed it sometimes?"
"Course not!" Hagrid said, still a bit dazed from the praise. "I reckon Pickpick likes you too."
He had no idea what he'd just agreed to.
Dudley's face broke into a satisfied smile. Soon enough, his collection of "tameable" creatures would have a new member. In his mind, Pickpick's proud head was already stamped with a bold "TAMABLE" label.