Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 102 Thunderbird Golden Flash

Even Damon himself didn't expect that the learning of the Patronus Charm would be over in just two weeks.

At this point, he had mastered almost all the profound and extraordinary spells except for the Dark Spell, with only the Confusion Spell remaining to be learned.

However, he could just take some time to look at the forbidden books and learn it on his own; it wasn't a big problem. He had no intention of using the Confusion Charm to control others.

Professor Flitwick had never seen a Chinese dragon and thought his guardian spirit was fully formed—only Damon knew that his guardian spirit had no eyes—it might seem like just one missing organ, but the difference was probably enormous.

There is a Chinese story about adding the finishing touch to a painting:
A skilled painter painted a dragon on the wall, so lifelike, but it had no eyes.

Some troublemakers used this as an opportunity to provoke the dragon, saying that it was not perfect.

The painter said that once the dragon's eyes were painted, it would be unable to be contained and would fly over the wall.

The man didn't believe it and insisted that the painter add the eyes. Helpless, the painter could only sigh and add the eyes. As a result, the dragon in the mural came back to life and soared into the sky.

The reason I thought of this story is that Damon had a premonition that the current changes were just a forced manifestation of the threat of the Dementors.

In reality, the fundamental problem remains unresolved—he lacks a certain strong will, perhaps to protect, or something else entirely; he hasn't thought of it yet, or rather, he's unable to take it seriously.

There's nothing wrong with being relaxed and happy every day. He doesn't want to make himself too stressed, nor can he force himself to be stressed out of thin air.

Moreover, he doesn't feel he can squeeze out much more time or energy.

And so, he forgot one thing, only remembering it after Hagrid wrote to him—the Thunderbird he had promised to find for him had been found, and he invited Damon to his cottage, and also invited Harry.

Harry arrived, and naturally the other two came too; they even brought Neville along this time.

The five of them headed towards Hagrid's cabin, and from afar they saw Lockhart, dressed in a pale purple robe, emerge from the doorway, loudly proclaiming:

"If you need any help, just come to me. You know where I am!"
I'll give you a copy of one of my books—I'm surprised you don't have one yet. I'll sign it and bring it over tonight. Okay, goodbye!

He turned his head and saw Damon and the others, his eyes lit up, and he coughed lightly, saying:
"Hagrid wanted to ask me for advice on how to prevent water sprites from getting into wells, so I gave him a few suggestions. Don't say this to his face, I guess he doesn't want to admit that he's not as good as me in this area."

After saying that, he blinked and left in a hurry.

Ron smacked his lips, glanced at Hermione with a subtle expression, but said nothing.

As soon as the group entered Hagrid's hut, they heard an impatient roar:
"What's the matter?"

"Hagrid, it's me."

"Oh, it's you guys. Sorry, I thought it was Lockhart."

"Looks like he's really bothering you?"

"No, it's just... he actually thinks he can teach me how to do things with magical creatures?" Hagrid said angrily, taking a half-plucked rooster from the clean table and placing a teapot on it. "As if I didn't know, he even boasted about how he exorcised female ghosts. If even one of those things is true, I'll eat the teapot."

He looked genuinely annoyed, his face flushed, and he actually went so far as to criticize the Hogwarts teachers—this was not Hagrid's style.

Hermione said in a slightly higher tone than usual:

“I think you’re being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore clearly believes he’s the most suitable candidate—” “The only candidate. It’s hard to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher these days. People don’t really want to do it; they think it’s unlucky. Anyway, why are we even talking about this?”

When Hagrid saw Damon, he guessed why he had come, his anger vanished, and he waved mysteriously at him with a smile on his face.

“I’ve found what you wanted earlier. If it weren’t for this, Lockhart wouldn’t have made me so nervous.”

As Hagrid spoke, he walked toward a large cage in the corner.

A faint hissing sound came from inside the cage, as if some magical creature was flapping its wings, ready to take flight.

Damon moved closer and noticed several ancient magical runes embedded in the cage, clearly intended to ensure the safety and comfort of the Thunderbird chicks.

“I went to great lengths to get this.” Hagrid said, his brow furrowed as he unlocked the cage, as if recalling something. “The Arizona wilderness is no pleasant place, not to mention that thunderbirds always inhabit those secluded, almost inaccessible places.”

As Hagrid finished speaking, the cage slowly opened.

Damon's eyes were immediately drawn to the Thunderbird chick inside—a small bird with feathers as dazzling as golden lightning, not very large, about the size of an adult cat, yet its bright, star-like eyes appeared exceptionally deep.

The ptarmigan chick was clearly young; its wings were slightly spread, and it appeared somewhat uneasy and very alert.

"Wow!"

Before Damon could react, Harry and the others couldn't help but gasp in surprise, their eyes filled with astonishment and delight. Even Hermione's eyes shone with a different kind of light—she knew that Damon's suitcase could manage magical creatures. The dragon had never caused any trouble in Damon's hands, and she was now desensitized to the potential dangers of magical creatures.

"Isn't it cute? Look how adorable this little guy is."

Hagrid smiled and tried to hook the little Thunderbird's chin with his thick fingers, but the bird looked at him warily.

Hagrid remained unmoved and stretched out his index finger to force himself on the little guy, which made him scream and quickly run to the person he felt closest to in the room, which was naturally Damon.

"Oh, it's like this again." Hagrid looked at the Thunderbird that had flown to Damon's shoulder and was preening its sparse feathers under his one hand, a look of envy on his face. "I really envy your affability. I would give anything for it!"

"It's a talent, sorry Hagrid."

Damon smiled and scratched the little guy's chin.

Hagrid suppressed the urge to stroke the Thunderbird chick and said enviously:
"It belongs to you now, give it a name."

"Name?"

Damon recalled details about the Thunderbird in his mind—a creature that, when fully grown, had snow-white feathers, multiple wings that glowed faintly, a golden beak, and eyes; it was beautiful and elegant.

When it flies, the blood flow in its feathers can create cloud-like patterns, and when it generates sunlight, warm rays shine through its stained-glass-like wings onto the earth.

It doesn't directly produce rain, but when it flies, the flapping of its wings generates a large amount of water vapor, which forms rain clouds and then turns into rain.

"Let's call him Golden Glitter."

(End of this chapter)