The whistle's echo reached every ear, drawing all eyes toward the Hufflepuff stands.
"Wayne, what are you doing?" Toby asked, bewildered.
Wayne didn't respond, keeping his gaze fixed on the heavens.
Snape frowned deeply, his sense of foreboding growing stronger.
The Quidditch players in the tunnel also heard the whistle. Remembering Wayne's words yesterday, the Hufflepuffs exchanged expectant glances.
"Screeee!"
After two minutes, a thunderous avian cry answered the call. The storm above intensified violently!
CRACK! BOOM!
Jagged lightning split the sky, illuminating an enormous silhouette.
"It's a bird!"
"Massive!"
"Is it Lawrence's Phoenix?"
"Can't be – Phoenixes aren't that big. Merlin, those wings..."
Before the match even began, the crowd erupted.
Speculation ran wild about whom Wayne had summoned and his intentions.
The figure broke through the clouds, descending rapidly. Lightning flashes revealed its true form, leaving many spectators dumbfounded.
Professor Sprout shot to her feet.
"That's... a Thunderbird!"
"Why would a Thunderbird be in Britain?" Professor McGonagall gasped. "Did Mr Lawrence bring it to school?"
She turned to seek Dumbledore, only to realise the Headmaster hadn't attended the match. The players who were about to take the field and Madam Hooch were all stunned by the sudden turn of events.
They stood frozen at the entrance, staring dumbfounded at the sky.
Snape's face darkened. He knew his scheme had failed today.
'Just how many tricks does this brat have up his sleeve?'
"Scree~!"
The Thunderbird Mia descended rapidly, and Wayne kindly reminded everyone, "Make way, please."
Whoosh~!
Instantly, the surrounding badgers scattered, leaving a large empty space around Wayne. Even if they had to stack themselves like pancakes, they'd keep their distance from him.
Mia landed on the stands and affectionately stretched her head forward.
Wayne stroked the soft feathers on her neck and pressed his forehead against hers.
"You know what to do, right?"
"Scree~!" Mia's eyes sparkled brightly.
The boy released his hold. Sheltered from all the rain, he drew his wand and pointed it skyward.
"Go now, and dispel these vexing clouds for me!"
At his command, Mia soared excitedly into the sky. With each beat of her wings, wind and thunder followed. Silver serpents of lightning danced wildly across the heavens as thunder roared.
Bathed in the lightning, her feathers gleamed like gold.
This was the first time Mia had unleashed her full power since joining Wayne.
After being nourished by the crimson lightning, her innate Thunderbird abilities had ascended to new heights, as if she had become the very embodiment of thunder.
Bolts of lightning sliced through the thick clouds like sharp blades, tearing them apart.
A fierce gale swept through, scattering the remnants of the clouds or driving them far into the distance.
At last, the first rays of dawn pierced through the clouds, casting their light below.
"The sky's clearing!" Hannah cheered, jumping for joy.
"The rain's stopped!" Norman shouted, raising his arms triumphantly.
"Such savages," Toby muttered disdainfully at his friends before bellowing, "With thunder, we shatter the darkness!"
The badgers erupted into frenzy, roaring with excitement. The entire stadium exploded with energy!
Who had ever witnessed such a spectacle?
A legendary magical creature, wielding the power to alter the skies—with a single flap of her wings, the heavens cleared.
Not just the students, even the teachers were struck speechless with awe.
Especially those born into Muggle families—this was the moment they truly beheld the grandeur of magic.
Compared to the spells they learned in class, this display of celestial might was undeniably more awe-inspiring.
Hermione gazed at the Thunderbird as it gradually disappeared into the sky.
The young girl never imagined that Mia, who often acted coquettishly around her, possessed such formidable power.
"The sky's clear!"
In the players' tunnel, Wotley pumped his fist excitedly and turned to Madam Hooch.
"Madam, can the match start now?"
"Ah, oh!" Madam Hooch snapped out of her daze and beckoned the teams onto the field.
Louder cheers erupted as students shed their raincoats and raised their pre-prepared cheering props into the air.
With the blow of the whistle, the players surged skyward, and Lee Jordan's commentary reached everyone's ears.
"Hufflepuff's Wotley takes the Quaffle—though he's considerably slower than a Thunderbird."
"Ah! Davies with a brilliant steal, passes to Isaiah Grier—what a zigzag manoeuvre, swift as a Thunderbird's lightning!"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall had to remind him. This was Quidditch commentary, not a Thunderbird showcase.
Though the match was thrilling, clearly everyone's minds still lingered on the spectacle from moments before. Many young wizards who had little interest in Quidditch had already quietly left the stands, returning to the castle's library to research Thunderbirds.
Truthfully, the Hufflepuff students were the most intrigued, but since their own house team was currently playing, they had to suppress their excitement and cheer loudly for their players, hoping for an early victory.
Goal after goal, with the dual advantage of superior equipment and skill, Hufflepuff quickly widened the score gap.
Half an hour later, Cedric successfully caught the Golden Snitch.
"Match over! 250 to 30! Let's congratulate Hufflepuff for winning the first Quidditch Cup of the term!"
"At the same time, we must also thank Wayne Lawrence—it was he who summoned the Thunderbird and dispersed the relentless rain!"
"..."
Though the Ravenclaw team was disheartened, the difference in raw ability was undeniable.
Cho gazed enviously at the brooms of the Hufflepuff players.
During the summer, Wayne had wanted to gift her a Nimbus 2001, but she had refused.
Wayne waved at Cho from the stands—now wasn't the time for consolation. Surrounded by cheering badgers, he made his way back to the castle.
"Where did the Thunderbird come from?" Cedric asked eagerly. "Can I see it?"
"Found it in Arizona."
"Isn't that a Thunderbird reserve? Wayne, you didn't break the law, did you?" A well-informed student gasped, pressing for further information.
"Relax, Mia came with me willingly. It's not poaching, so no trouble there."
Wayne waved dismissively. Though he had sneaked her out, voluntary cooperation wasn't prohibited.
As for whether it violated the Ministry of Magic's restrictions—
'Which eye of yours saw this Thunderbird belonging to me? I just have a good relationship with her. There's no documentation proving ownership.'
The sieve-like legal system was full of loopholes, and Wayne wasn't the least bit worried about repercussions.
Many begged him to summon Mia again—they'd been too stunned earlier to observe her properly.
Compared to creatures like unicorns, which were more popular among girls, the boys preferred majestic beasts like Thunderbirds and dragons, their powerful builds embodying raw strength.
Unfortunately, Wayne refused.
Mia wasn't as gluttonous as Lulu, and Thunderbirds weren't exactly friendly toward humans.
That Cho and Hermione could approach her, even play together, was only because they carried his scent.
Still, Wayne promised that if he ever summoned a Thunderbird again, everyone could observe from a distance—but no closer.
Before long, the twins arrived.
"Master Lawrence," Fred grinned, rubbing his hands together as he sidled up eagerly.
Wayne rolled his eyes. Whenever they wanted something, they addressed him in this manner. He was used to it by now.
"Could you give us some Thunderbird feathers?"
"What do you want them for?" Wayne asked.
Fred immediately explained, "A fake wand that releases electric currents. George and I couldn't find suitable materials before, but seeing the Thunderbird made everything click."
"Not a bad idea," Wayne nodded approvingly. "I'll bring you some tomorrow. I don't have any on me now."
"Brilliant!"
The twins high-fived in celebration.
...
In the following days, wherever Wayne went, he was bombarded with questions about the Thunderbird.
Even the professors weren't immune.
Professor Kettleburn, who had no interest in Quidditch and thus never attended matches, stomped his remaining half-foot in frustration upon learning he'd missed such a spectacular sight.
He begged Wayne to let him observe the Thunderbird properly. Despite his extensive travels, Kettleburn had never encountered one before - he rarely ventured to America, considering its wizards uncivilised.
Unable to resist the collective pleading, Wayne summoned Mia again, setting a strict ten-metre boundary for everyone.
Kettleburn scribbled feverishly in his notebook, muttering excitedly: "Sixteen metres... no, fully extended it's nearly seventeen! This must be the alpha of its flock!"
"But why does it appear so young? Could my records be mistaken?"
Hagrid stood behind the students, practically drooling. In his estimation, his admiration for the Thunderbird now reached 0.8 of his love for dragons.
"Ah! The Thunderbird - I believe I've encountered one before! Tended to an injured specimen in Coventry once," Lockhart declared. "Those poachers weren't at all sporting."
Wherever there was attention to be had, Lockhart would appear. Though he'd been terrified by Mia's sudden appearance at the Quidditch Pitch, having recovered his composure, he couldn't resist joining the spectacle.
Hagrid and Kettleburn exchanged looks of disgust. Never had Hagrid disliked a professor so intensely - unless they were truly insufferable, like Lockhart.
The man had inexplicably appeared at his vegetable patch, boasting about his skill at banishing flesh-eating slugs. After waving his wand with some unknown spell, the slugs had swollen to pumpkin size and turned vicious, devouring his entire crop down to the stalks.
Lockhart had fled the scene, leaving Hagrid to deal with the aftermath. Only Wayne's potions had saved the Halloween pumpkin supply.
"Professor," Hermione called out sharply from where she stood beside Wayne, grooming Mia's feathers. She turned to glare at Lockhart: "Your book described rescuing a Thunder Eagle, not a Thunderbird. Which was it?"
"Oh? Did it?" Lockhart blinked, laughing awkwardly. "Must have confused them - I've done so many heroic deeds they all blur together."
Wayne refrained from mocking him. Their relationship had improved lately - with Lockhart around, Snape's usual persecution of Hufflepuff had become ineffective.
But Lockhart, lacking self-awareness, stepped over Wayne's designated boundary, pressing forward regardless.
CRACK!
A lightning bolt struck the ground less than two feet before him. Mia glared fiercely, and Lockhart felt his limbs turn icy cold as he retreated awkwardly.
After feeding her and waiting for Cho and Hermione to finish grooming Mia's feathers, Wayne let her fly away.
Lockhart was utterly envious.
If he had tamed a Thunderbird and published a book about it, how much fame and Galleons could he have earned?
Why was Lawrence so damn lucky?
Watching Wayne's retreating figure, a sense of urgency rose in Lockhart's heart.
He had come to the school for two reasons: to sell books for profit and to further elevate his reputation.
He had resolved to stay only a year, leaving unscathed—a record such as this would undoubtedly boost his fame to new heights.
But since arriving at the school, Lockhart had realised that a mere second-year wizard was overshadowing his brilliance.
No, he had to find a way to outshine Wayne.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
...
The next day, another piece of parchment appeared on the school noticeboard.
When Wayne entered the Great Hall with Astoria, who had just finished her treatment, many students were gathered excitedly around the noticeboard, chattering.
"Hank, what's it say?" Wayne didn't bother squeezing through the crowd and instead grabbed a familiar Hufflepuff to ask.
"The school's starting a Duelling Club!" The Hufflepuff named Hank said excitedly. "First meeting tomorrow night—brilliant! Wonder whose idea it was."
"About time," Seamus bellowed. "This is the kind of useful stuff we need, not some bloody playacting!"
"Duelling Club?" Astoria shrank back nervously.
"What, haven't learned many spells yet?" Wayne glanced down at her.
"I-I do alright in class," Astoria murmured. "But I've never duelled anyone before. I'm scared."
"Relax," Wayne reassured her. "You endured Phoenix flames."
"Getting hit by someone else's spell won't hurt worse than that. In other words, you're tougher than most kids your age."
Astoria puffed up indignantly at him. What did he mean, tougher?
She was very slim, thank you very much.
Wayne just grinned. "Daring to glare at me now, are we? Getting healthier's made you feistier, huh?"
"I didn't mean to..." Astoria deflated back into her timid self. "S-sorry..."
"Not mad at you." Wayne ruffled her hair. "Go on, find your sister."
After a cautious glance to confirm Wayne really wasn't angry, Astoria scurried off on her short legs.
From the moment the notice went up, the castle buzzed with talk of the upcoming Duelling Club.
Even the professors' lessons weren't spared.
"Duelling is a discipline that demands great skill," Professor Flitwick declared enthusiastically.
"Never assume a single powerful spell will defeat your opponent—you usually lack that capability."
"Quick, practical spells are far more effective."
Everyone knew Flitwick had won multiple duelling championships, so they listened with rapt attention.
Carried away by his own enthusiasm, Flitwick whipped out his wand: "Here's a little trick—flick your wrist like this, and your spells become much harder to anticipate."
"Meanwhile, your footwork must—whoops, blimey!" The students watched with exasperation as he toppled off the stack of books, the professor having completely forgotten he'd been lecturing while standing atop them.
During Transfiguration class, even Professor McGonagall couldn't resist mentioning it twice.
"Transfiguration is extremely practical in combat and remarkably versatile."
"It tests not just your proficiency in Transfiguration, but a wizard's intelligence."
"You could summon surrounding debris to block an opponent's spells, or transfigure animals to distract them."
"Or even transfigure the opponent's spells directly."
Seamus's eyes lit up as he raised his hand. "Professor, I want to learn that!"
Professor McGonagall gave him a sidelong glance. "Mr Finnigan, you're better suited to making opponents' spells explode directly."
The classroom instantly filled with cheerful laughter.
And so, with excitement and anticipation, time finally arrived at eight o'clock that evening.
Students entered the Great Hall, which had been completely transformed.