𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲: 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

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"I think he may let yeh ride him now."

"What?"

You and Harry said in sync, but yours was more out of disbelief, which soon turns into excitement. Harry's smile disappears as Hagrid lifts you by hooking his hands under your arms. He places you behind Buckbeak's wing joint, making sure you were comfortable, before turning to Harry. You can tell this situation was more than he bargained for.

"Come on, Harry," you encourage, lightly patting Buckbeak's fur.

Harry tried to protest, but Hagrid was already hoisting him up before he could utter another word.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hagrid!"

Your giant professor doesn't seem to hear what Harry has to say, too busy warning you both about pulling on Buckbeak's feathers. You wouldn't dream of hurting him. You've grown quite attached to the Hippogriff during the entire lesson.

Harry was situated just behind you, your back nearly touching his chest. You imagine he was just as apprehensive of the incoming flight as you were. It made you feel better, but your willingness to go with it helped your nerves. Harry, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to get off and run back to his classmates.

"Yeh might want ter hold on," Hagrid adds, sounding almost cheeky, before slapping Buckbeak's behind.

With a roar, the Hippogriff stands on his hind legs. You could have fallen off if you hadn't secured your arms around his neck, while Harry instantly grips your waist in alarm. His hold on you was tight, but you brush off the slight pain as Buckbeak took a running start across the paddock. Dust flew behind him, and as he stretches out his wings, you felt your heart soar with him as he takes to the sky.

The cheers and shouts from the entire class became muted as the wind howls in your ears. Your hold on Buckbeak was taut. Releasing a shaky breath, you ignore the urge to look down and concentrated on the vast expanse in front of you.

Once you've finally taken in everything, your worries were left behind as uncontrollable laughter bubbles up your throat. You were riding a Hippogriff, a situation you could only daydream of when you read about them. But even as a child you already fantasized about flying, thinking of magically growing wings, and just feel the breeze on your face.

A content feeling settles in your chest as you idly rub the feathers on Buckbeak's neck. You wonder what it would feel like to ride a dragon instead, but this experience was already shaping up to be more than what you wished for.

Your life could end right at that moment and you wouldn't complain.

A squeeze around your waist brings you back to reality, only just realizing that you weren't alone. Harry was pressed against you, his head rested on the space between your shoulders. He refused to look up until you tap one of his arms. You're not sure if he can hear you, but you still mumble words of encouragement, wanting him to feel and see the same as you.

Harry does relax, eventually, right around the time when Buckbeak drifted toward the castle. He flies past intricate towers and roofs, and you finally gaze down upon mustering enough courage to do so. The green fields were speckled with students, their forms increasingly growing smaller as Buckbeak ascends. You can feel Harry leaning away, his grip on you thankfully loosening enough that it didn't hurt anymore.

The Hippogriff descends as he flies over the Black Lake, and you can feel the increasing chill in the air, as well as the occasional cold spray of wetness on your face. Your reflection ripples on the disturbed surface that you can barely make out Harry's, who was leaning over your shoulder to stare at the water below.

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