Night fell over the Forbidden Forest, with sparse stars above and the castle lights gradually dimming. In the long corridors, only Filch carried an oil lamp, patrolling at a leisurely pace.
Beside him walked Mrs. Loris, with graceful steps.
A shadow seed to flash in the corner of his eye. Filch looked up and saw a small bird flying over the castle.
It was a Peregrine Falcon.
Mrs. Loris also jumped onto the windowsill, gazing upwards, her tail gently swaying.
The caretaker watched for a mont, then lowered his head disinterestedly, saying to his pet, "Listen carefully, Mrs. Loris. On nights like these, surely a few little rascals will sneak out!"
"ow~"
Mrs. Loris called out to the sky.
"It’s useless, you can’t catch that kind of bird, let’s get to work," Filch said.
Mrs. Loris had to jump down from the windowsill, glance at the sky one last ti, and then follow her master’s footsteps.
Of course, the Peregrine Falcon was Vid.
Once accustod to the wings ford by his arms, the sensation of flying freely was even better than riding a broom.
Moreover, a bird’s brain is quite small. Even though he rembered who he was, his thoughts naturally beca simpler after transforming, generally focusing on one thing at a ti.
Thus, when flying, he only thought about flying, when hunting, he concentrated on hunting, and the joy after harvest beca more pure and natural.
When he returned to his original form, he felt as if his thoughts were cleansed, all those tedious and complex things becoming lighter.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of air vibrating, and the Peregrine Falcon swiftly darted as an owl suddenly flew past him, its broad wings making a deep, powerful sound as they flapped.
The Peregrine Falcon swiftly arced, folded its wings, and dived downwards, pouncing on the owl.
It folded its wings, its whole body like a fighter jet, accelerating to a nearly invisible speed in an instant!
In just a mont, the owl felt a sharp pain, screaming aloud, thinking its neck had been severed!
The Peregrine Falcon swiftly swooped by, a few plucked feathers leisurely drifting down.
As he flew past a window, he suddenly paused and craned his head to look inside.
Professor Abigail, dressed in pajamas, was sitting at the desk, disassembling a black gun into parts, maintaining and cleaning it before slowly reassembling it.
Sensing eyes upon her, she turned and saw the Peregrine Falcon outside the window, smiled, and grabbed a handful of jerky from the table, placing it on the windowsill.
"Eat up," she said warmly.
The Peregrine Falcon dipped its head, took a piece, and flew away.
The pained owl was alard, spinning in circles until discovering its head was still intact. Anger and hatred rose again, it returned to the Owl Tower, called upon ten companions, and fiercely flew toward the Peregrine Falcon.
A large flock of birds circled above Hogwarts, occasionally emitting piercing cries, making the castle’s quiet night lively.
Students living in the tower were awakened, peering over their beds to see the avenging owls outside, muttering in confusion, "Have they found a big nest of rats? Why are they screaming like this?"
Dumbledore was writing a letter when he heard the cries, he set down his quill, turned his head and t eyes with the Peregrine Falcon outside the window.
The headmaster considered this, rose, opened the window, and asked, "Want to co in and hide for a while?"
The Peregrine Falcon, like most birds startled, suddenly spread its wings and "fluff," flew away.
The owls imdiately noticed the enemy’s whereabouts and surrounded from all sides. The Peregrine Falcon darted eloquently and lightly amongst them, avoiding each attack with unparalleled speed and agility, soon breaking free and disappearing.
Seeing this, Dumbledore couldn’t help but smile joyfully.
"Young folks really have energy..."
The headmaster, like most elderly people, muttered in reflection and sat back down at the desk.
He looked again at the letter he had been writing, suddenly finding it lacking.
Yesterday, Fudge sent a letter questioning the recent highly military-style training at Hogwarts, doubting the intentions of the school’s staff, particularly Dumbledore.
Dumbledore had initially written a long letter explaining that this was a student-initiated ga activity, where children developed willpower and magic ability well through such exercises, ensuring they would beco even more outstanding wizards after graduation.
As elders, they should encourage rather than brutally stop, and Hogwarts is fully prepared to ensure students are not seriously hard.
Finally, he emphasized the necessity of such training, noting the recent decline in OWLs and NEWTs exam scores, ntioning how the peace induced laziness where many graduates couldn’t even use the Iron Armor Spell, and how this training could encourage kids to study.
But at that mont, witnessing the Peregrine Falcon elegantly evading a flock of owls’ pursuit, fleeing gracefully, that free and proud deanor etched in the old man’s eyes.
Dumbledore sat for a few minutes before the letter paper floated into the air and directly ignited, burning into a pile of ashes.
He started afresh—
Thank you, Minister, for your concern for Hogwarts.
Although this is a matter internal to the school, we would welco guidance from the elite of the Ministry of Magic.
Next month, we will organize another challenge competition, sincerely inviting you and the excellent Aurors to participate.
The dark green ink left only a few brief lines on the paper, then signed off. The letter was folded up with a wax seal pressed.
——Though there is the convenience of Friendship Book for communication these days, so old-fashioned and particular wizards prefer traditional letters when not in a rush.
Fudge, for example, resists new things, as they leave him feeling unsettled. He stays within his comfort zone, unwilling to erge, thus wishing the world to remain in the form he is most accustod to.
Dumbledore was glad he hadn’t beco such an outdated and sluggish figure.
He sent out the letter.
The vengeful owls guarded the skies for most of the night, never spotting their nesis. They sulkily returned to the Owl Tower only when dawn broke.
At that ti, Vid, who rarely slept in, had just woken from sleep.
Stretching lazily, he saw the drowsy Miss Ava wobbling as she flew back in, and couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
"Why so tired?" Vid caught his owl, stroked her cold back, and asked, "Did you fly all night?"
"Coo coo—"
Miss Ava ekly chirped, lightly pecking Vid’s hand with her beak, then eagerly settled on the perch and started eating the owl food quickly.
It seed she hadn’t slept all night, not even catching a mouse for herself.
Vid lovingly added a handful of food for her, including a piece of jerky. Ava cooed in grumbling, complaining about last night’s Peregrine Falcon as she filled her belly.
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