Eagle's Flight // Frarry

Year 3.2

Another day, another chapter

Last edited: October 8 (I'm most likely gonna revise this in full later, but for now, here we go)

The look on Snape's face when Professor Dumbledore announced Remus as the DADA professor shocked Harry. It was deep loathing, one that Harry had never seen on him, even toward his least favorite students.

Harry was a bit unnerved about Hagrid being the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. He had nothing against him, but knowing how fond Hagrid was of creatures, it wouldn't be surprising if someone got hurt, all intentions aside.

The next morning, as Harry and Luna were passing the Slytherins, one of them made a swooning fit, making the others laugh.

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson, a pug-faced third year, called. "The Dementors are coming, Potter! Wooooo!"

Draco, sitting next to her, shoved her angrily. "Knock it off, Pansy."

Harry completely ignored the Slytherins, walking by with a stony expression until he reached an empty seat at the Ravenclaw table. "Bloody gits."

"Don't listen to them, Harry," Luna murmured. "They're not worth it."

Divination was a joke; Harry didn't know why he had bothered taking it. Care of Magical Creatures, though, was bound to be interesting, despite Harry's previous misgivings.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" Hagrid called. "That's it-make sure yeh can see- now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-"

"How?" Harry said.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Harry repeated. He had belted his book shut after several failed attempts to calm it down.

"Hasn'- hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look-"

Hagrid took Harry's copy and ran a hand down its spine. It shivered and opened up, no longer trying to bite him.

"Oh, how silly we've all been," sneered Parkinson.

Hagrid showed the class hippogriffs, strange yet beautiful creatures that were half horse, half bird. "Who wants ter go first?"

Several students stepped back. Hagrid saw Harry and beamed. "Harry! Come up. Let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Harry approached the gray hippogriff and followed Hagrid's instructions to bow down, not breaking eye contact. The hippogriff seemed to scrutinize him for a long moment before bowing back.

"Well, done, Harry! Right- yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry tentatively lifted a hand and laid it on the sharp gray beak. Buckbeak relaxed and closed his eyes.

The class broke into applause, all except for Parkinson.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

Harry whipped around. "Ride him?" Part of the reason he wasn't interested in trying out for Quidditch was because of the extreme height.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that... "

Not wanting to let him down, Harry climbed onto Buckbeak's back.

"Go on, then!" Hagrid said, slapping his hindquarters.

Buckbeak's wings sprang up and he took off. At first, Harry clung on tightly. But after a few heartstopping minutes, he forced himself to lift his head. A laugh escaped him. This was amazing! He felt so free! The air was so clean, so fresh, and Harry inhaled it with relish.

All too soon, he landed, and Hagrid untied the rest of the Hippogriffs and had the students approach them.

Draco did the stupid thing and swaggered up to Buckbeak, ultimately ending up on his back, moaning. "I'm dying!" he yelled. "It's killed meh! It's killed meh!"

Harry rolled his eyes and knelt down by Draco's head. "Shut up, you dramatic dunderhead. You'll live."

"Are you an angel?" Draco whispered theatrically, reaching up with his uninjured arm and touching Harry's face.

"No, I'm the bloody devil."

Draco let out another moan and dropped his arm. "I knew it, I'm in hell."

"Mmm, Hogwarts, hell. Monkshood, aconite. Same difference."

Hagrid took Draco to the hospital wing, and the class was dismissed.

"You flew on a hippogriff?" Fred said.

Harry nodded.

"What was it like?" George asked.

A small grin spread across Harry's lips. "It was... not that bad. You'd probably enjoy it, playing Quidditch and all."

"That's different," Fred said.

"Hippogriffs look pretty dangerous," George added.

"They are," Harry said, "but it doesn't seem that much different than Quidditch."

Fred snorted. "And that, my friend, is where you're wrong."

"On a broom, you have all the control," George said.

"And on a hippogriff... well, let's hope they're trained."

Harry huffed. "Come on! At least on Buckbeak I didn't have to worry about Bludgers and other people flying around."

Fred shook his head. "I still think Quidditch is safer."

"Want to bet?" Harry shot back.

"Sure."

"Fine, if Hagrid's okay with it, you can take a ride on Buckbeak."

"And in return-" George said

"-we can teach you how to fly properly," Fred finished.

Harry looked at them. "Deal." He shook their hands.

"Great! We shall see you Saturday morning, then."

Maybe he should've not opened his mouth...

Sirius Black was spotted not too far from Hogwarts, bringing up the topic of Harry being in danger again.

Before Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon, Harry took some time to skim through his parents' journals. As he already knew, Remus and Black were his father's best friends in school along with Peter Pettigrew.

Remus was a werewolf and to keep him company, his friends became Animagi. Harry's father was a stag, Pettigrew was a rat, and Black was a dog.

Harry recalled seeing the dog after he had blown up Aunt Marge. Could that had been Black?

As Harry continued to read, he felt puzzled.

Sirius Black had been put into Azkaban, that much Harry knew. He had asked Draco before leaving Potions why, and the blonde had reluctantly revealed that Black had been the Secret Keeper for the Potters but ended up going to Voldemort and telling him, resulting in their deaths and Harry being sent to the Dursleys.

But according to the journals, Black had changed at the last minute and had Pettigrew as the secret keeper. Which meant that Black couldn't have been the traitor. That Black was not the traitor. "Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters," Harry whispered hoarsely.

But why did Black escape now? He had been in Azkaban for twelve years and had obviously not bothered with getting out then. What had changed?

Harry checked the time and realized that he ought to get going to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which would be with the Gryffindors this year. Remus would be there; maybe Harry could ask him after class.

Those journals are proving to be quite handy, don't you think?