Harry Potter: Master of Talismans

Hagrid asked whether I wanted to come closer. Part of me thought we had already completed a satisfactory lesson, but another part knew I would regret leaving now. I asked him to show me where to put my hand.

He moved with me towards Buckbeak’s neck, away from the beak, reminding me to let him see each movement. The feathers felt smoother than expected, with warmth and muscle shifting underneath. When Buckbeak tilted his head, I stopped until Hagrid said I could continue.

Fear remained, but became part of something more complicated. I could see individual feathers now, pale grey along the neck and darker where they overlapped the wing. Steady breathing moved beneath my palm. Buckbeak was tolerating my hand while watching the people beyond the rope, no longer a collection of dangerous parts from a book.

I told him he was magnificent. His head rose, and Hagrid said he liked praise. I thought that a promising basis for friendship, since I did too, and looked along the broad back towards the folded wings.

I asked whether he could carry someone. Hagrid brightened before growing more thoughtful and explaining that he could, but I need not try today. I said I would like to if Buckbeak allowed it, and waited while Hagrid rested a hand against his side and spoke quietly.

Buckbeak lowered his forequarters. I began moving too soon, making Hagrid stop me with a request to listen first. With one hand on the broad back, I waited while he explained where to sit, what to hold and how to keep clear of the wings.

‘A short turn. I’ll call him back,’ he said. ‘Don’t try steering by pulling his head.’ I assured him I had no intention of pulling anything attached to that beak, then accepted his help climbing up.

Buckbeak straightened, taking the ground further away than seemed reasonable. Hagrid checked my position before releasing the lead and asking whether I was ready. I tightened my hold and said I was as ready as I would become.

Buckbeak crouched. The first movement drove my stomach down while the rest of me went up, and wings struck the air on either side. Somebody called my name as the clearing dropped away, but the wind took whatever followed.

Broom flight had not prepared me for the rhythm of a living back, or the brief suspension between wingbeats. I spent the first moments concentrating on remaining where Hagrid put me. Then Buckbeak levelled, and I could begin looking at more than my hands.

The castle appeared beyond the treetops. Familiar roofs and towers framed courtyards I could now see fitting together, while paths wound towards the lake. Places separated indoors by several turns and stairs looked almost close enough to step between. I laughed, partly because I had enough breath to spare.

Buckbeak banked towards the water. I leaned too late, tightened my grip and pressed closer until the turn settled beneath me. I asked for more warning next time, but the words disappeared into the wind.

We descended beside the near shore. Sunlight broke across the ripples in bright fragments, and Buckbeak’s shadow ran over the grass before coming apart on the water. For an instant our reflection appeared beneath us: wings spread, robes flattened and my hands firmly occupied.

I had wanted to fly without a broom. In those moments it mattered little that the power lifting us belonged to Buckbeak, and I thanked him close to his neck. He gave no sign of understanding, which did not prevent me meaning it.

A whistle sounded from the trees. Buckbeak lifted his head and beat harder, carrying us into the climb. This turn was easier because I expected it, and I found the clearing between the branches before the people below became large enough to recognise.

The landing came in two uneven movements which knocked my teeth together. Hagrid secured the lead, waited for the wings to fold and helped me down. My knees took a moment to remember standing while Harry reached the rope to ask how it had been.

I tried for a measured answer and managed only brilliant. He wanted to know whether it was better than a broom, so I told him to ask once my legs caught up. Hagrid laughed as other hands began rising behind him.

He took people one at a time. Harry bowed, waited properly and returned from a short flight with a smile I recognised. Hermione chose to stroke Buckbeak and ask about the feathers where wing met body. Ron bowed with such care that I suspected he counted each second before moving.

Eventually Buckbeak looked towards the feed bag more often than his visitors. Hagrid ended the lesson despite disappointed noises, telling everyone to stay behind the rope while he settled him. They could try again another day, depending on how Buckbeak was then.

I watched the wings fold. They had carried me above the lake; now their owner waited for another ferret as though the morning had held nothing remarkable. Hagrid smiled at me before asking how the lesson had gone, adding that he wanted an honest answer.

Stolen story; please report.

Harry described the flight, Hermione asked about studying the wings and Ron said Buckbeak had been better company than the spiders. Hagrid’s smile faltered at that. He looked at me and said he knew.

‘Today was good. The instructions helped,’ I told him. He looked pleased, though less extravagantly, before reminding me that we still needed to discuss what happened before he returned to the clearing. I admitted that I knew that too.

Most students were moving towards the path. A few lingered by the rope to watch Buckbeak eat, and Hagrid had led him towards a post beside the enclosure while keeping hold of the lead. Malfoy emerged from behind Goyle and stepped over the rope.

I noticed because he approached the animal while everyone else moved away. He announced that he saw no reason for the fuss, drawing Hagrid’s attention at once. Hagrid told him to stay back because we had finished.

Malfoy looked at me and the students still watching. ‘It’s only an overgrown bird.’ Buckbeak lifted his head from the food, and Hagrid repeated the instruction more sharply. I began moving, with only a few strides between us but less distance between Malfoy and the animal.

I told him to stop. He ignored me and called Buckbeak an ugly brute, bringing the wings open in a rush. Hagrid pulled the lead and shouted while Malfoy stopped without stepping back. His head tipped towards the rising talons.

I hit him from the side. For an instant his body refused to go where I needed it, then his feet left the ground and we fell together. Something caught my leg, pulling it backwards while the rest of me kept moving.

Grass struck my shoulder and Malfoy’s elbow drove into my ribs. Cloth tore, accompanied by a shout which might have been mine. When I looked up, Hagrid stood between us and Buckbeak, speaking forcefully and keeping the animal’s head turned away.

Wings filled the space beyond him. A talon scraped the ground where Malfoy had stood, and Harry dropped to his knees beside me with Hermione just behind. I said I was there before he could repeat my name, sounding crosser than intended because my leg hurt and I did not know how badly.

I asked about Malfoy. Ron went to him and found him lying on his side, eyes closed and a hand curled beneath his chest. He was breathing, Ron told us, then asked him whether he could hear.

I tried moving my foot. Pain ran along the outside of my calf and stopped the experiment immediately, while Hermione saw the tear in my trousers and told me not to get up. I assured her I had not planned an expedition, drawing a short, frightened laugh from Harry which vanished when he looked at the leg.

Hagrid secured Buckbeak inside the enclosure and directed the remaining students towards the hut. He raised his voice when somebody moved closer to watch, then crouched beside us. Hermione said we needed Pomfrey, and he sent her straight to the hospital wing.

‘Two students, one unconscious and one hurt in the leg. I’ll stay here.’ She ran while Hagrid checked Malfoy, then turned to ask whether I could feel my foot. I said I could feel rather more of it than I wanted.

Harry produced a clean handkerchief. Hagrid helped him press it against the bleeding without moving my leg more than necessary, and I looked towards the enclosure. Buckbeak stood behind the barrier with his wings folded again.

That return to stillness was difficult to understand. I had been on his back over the lake, Malfoy had held a banana in front of me, and now Harry pressed cloth against my leg while Ron repeated Malfoy’s name. Each repetition carried less anger than the last.

Ron announced a movement. Malfoy made a noise and tried to raise his head, but Hagrid told him to stay down until help arrived. His eyes found me, moved towards my leg and looked away. I had no useful remark ready for him.

Pomfrey arrived with Hermione and two floating stretchers. Her questions were short and required equally short answers. Hagrid described what he saw while she checked Malfoy, inspected the cloth against my leg and told Harry when he could release it.

Being lifted hurt more than I hoped. I complained that she might have warned me, and she explained that she had while I was claiming I could stand. That was accurate enough for me to close my mouth and lie still through the journey.

Hagrid stayed to deal with the class and enclosure before following us. By the time he reached the ward, Pomfrey had cut away the torn cloth and cleaned the wound. I watched the curtain for most of that, discovering that knowing what she was doing did not make looking necessary.

She said the injury was to the outer calf, with no damage to bone or tendon she could find. I had been fortunate, which did not mean it was nothing. I assured her I had begun suspecting as much, then accepted the drink she gave me and waited while she treated the cut.

The sharpest pain eased gradually, leaving a hot awareness of where it had been. I rested my head against the pillow and told her it felt better. She said that was good, and now I could stay still while it healed.

On the next bed Malfoy answered questions in a low voice. I heard him say he remembered the wings opening, with little eagerness to describe what followed. Pomfrey checked him again before explaining that he had no apparent talon injury, but his brief loss of consciousness meant he would remain under observation.

Harry’s shoulders lowered. Ron finally sat in the chair he had held by its back for several minutes, while Hagrid gripped his coat at the foot of my bed. He began saying my name, and I told him Buckbeak had not caught Malfoy.

Hagrid glanced at the other bed and agreed. ‘That matters first,’ I said, although I knew it was not everything. His expression changed when Pomfrey asked about the rope, the class and the animal’s position, but I could think about Malfoy breathing without seeing the talons coming down again.

Harry stayed while Pomfrey allowed it. He said I had moved before he understood what Malfoy was doing, and I remembered deciding more clearly than the distance between us. Ron thought I looked surprised on landing; I explained that I had hoped for softer ground.

He proposed asking Hermione to inspect it next time. She refused to have another such event arranged around her inspection, and we laughed quietly enough for Pomfrey to tolerate it before sending them away. Hagrid left with more questions to answer than the account of the earlier argument.

The ward became still. Malfoy shifted behind the curtain, and Pomfrey’s shoes made a soft sound as she went to her office. With the pain reduced, boredom arrived quickly enough for me to move my leg experimentally.

She said no without looking round. I put it back and tried to find something more interesting on the ceiling, discovering that relief did not improve my judgement as much as it improved the afternoon.