The world blurs and twists around Adam as the portkey whirls him and his companions through space, a familiar sensation of magic enveloping him. His breath catches for a moment, a mix of anticipation and the lingering disorientation that always follows such travel. When they land, the jarring motion softens, cushioned by the ancient, protective magic that surrounds Morgan Castle like an invisible shield. Adam staggers slightly but quickly regains his footing, his boots pressing firmly into the tiles of the room.
He takes a steadying breath and glances over his shoulder. Wimble, ever the consummate servant, clutches the portkey with practiced ease, his expression as composed as if they’d merely taken a casual stroll. Beside them, Cassandra lands with practiced grace, her emerald robes flowing elegantly around her.
But nothing holds his attention as much as the Thunderbird. The majestic creature steps forward, its every movement radiating an effortless confidence. Its shimmering feathers catch the light, rippling with hues of electric blue and molten gold, making it appear almost ethereal. The creature seems utterly unbothered by its new surroundings, its piercing eyes scans the room with an almost regal air.
Adam sighs, brushing imaginary dust from his robes as he adjusts them into place. “Wimble,” he begins, his voice even but carrying a hint of weariness, “can you inform Mother and Father that the Thunderbird has followed me back?” He doesn’t need to explain further; the sight of such a rare and formidable creature will undoubtedly cause an uproar. Wimble bows with his usual precision, murmuring a soft, “At once, Master Adam,” before disappearing into the castle with the quiet efficiency of a ghost.
Making his way toward the gardens, Adam notices Cassandra heading toward her room. She glances back and calls out, “I’ll see you later, little brother.” The house-elves scattered across the corridor pause in their tasks as the Thunderbird moves into view. Their reactions are instant but restrained: wide-eyed awe mixed with a respectful wariness. Adam notices their hesitation and offers a small, reassuring smile, a silent gesture to carry on. Reluctantly, they return to their work, though their curious glances follow him and the creature.
Finally, when the Thunderbird reaches the garden with Adam, it appears entirely unbothered by the attention. With a lazy flap of its enormous wings, it sends a gentle gust through the air, rustling the leaves and filling the space with an almost magical energy. A moment later, it soars upward with effortless grace, its massive form cutting through the sky like a jewel set against the clouds. Adam watches it with quiet admiration, marveling at its fluidity and power.
His attention shifts abruptly as a flash of silver streaks across the far end of the garden. Eclipse, his mother's loyal winged partner, bolts upward in an arc of pure energy. Adam feels his chest tighten, an instinctive worry rising unbidden. He knows how territorial magical creatures can be, and the thought of the Thunderbird and Eclipse clashing fills him with dread. He opens his mouth to call Eclipse back, but his voice falters when the unexpected happens.
Instead of attacking, Eclipse matches the Thunderbird’s height, hovering for a moment as if considering its next move. Then, to Adam’s amazement, the two creatures begin to move in unison. Their flight becomes a synchronized dance, weaving through the sky with impossible precision. They dive, loop, and spiral, their movements harmonious and deliberate, as if they’ve been partners all their lives.
Adam stares in awe, his thoughts racing to make sense of what he’s witnessing. “I don’t understand…” he mutters, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and rustling leaves. “Why aren’t they fighting?”
His mother’s voice drifts over his shoulder, calm and sure. “Eclipse must have already recognized your scent on the Thunderbird,” she observes, stepping up beside him with the effortless grace of someone who has spent her life among magical creatures. Her presence is steadying, and Adam glances at her, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He had expected a more dramatic reaction, but her composed demeanor puts him at ease.
“So, they won’t fight?” he asks, his uncertainty still lingering. His eyes flick back to the two creatures gliding through the air, their movements synchronized as if they’ve always known each other.
She shakes her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “No. They’ve already communicated in their own way. Eclipse has accepted the Thunderbird’s presence, likely because she trusts your judgment.”
Adam exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing as he watches the pair descend. The Thunderbird’s landing is as elegant as its flight, its talons barely making a sound as they touch the soft grass. Eclipse follows moments later, folding her wings with practiced precision before trotting up to Adam. Her silver feathers catch the light, gleaming like liquid moonlight as she bows her head toward him. Adam pats her beak affectionately, his fingers brushing over the familiar texture of her feathers.
His mother steps closer to the Thunderbird, her expression softening as she approaches the majestic creature. To Adam’s astonishment, she doesn’t hesitate. Her gaze meets the Thunderbird’s directly, her hand resting lightly at her side, not reaching out but radiating trust. The creature tilts its head, its sharp eyes fixed on her, before letting out a low, rumbling coo. She nods approvingly, her voice warm. “You look much better than when I found you.”
Adam blinks, confusion flickering in his mind. He turns to her, his brow furrowing. “Wait... you found it?” he asks, his tone incredulous.
His mother chuckles, a sound as soft as it is knowing. “Yes, while I was in America on business. It had been injured—its wing was badly torn. I brought it back to recover at the sanctuary. It was never meant to stay with us permanently, but I suppose it had other plans.”
Adam processes her words, his gaze shifting back to the Thunderbird, who now ruffles its feathers contentedly. It stretches its wings wide, catching the golden light of the afternoon sun, before taking flight again. Its powerful form glides effortlessly into the distance, Eclipse not far behind, the two vanishing deeper into the sprawling garden.
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Adam watches them for a moment longer, then turns toward the castle. He makes his way to his room, his thoughts still lingering on the unexpected bond between the creatures. As he pushes open the heavy wooden door, he’s greeted by an unmistakable sound—a sharp, familiar screech that makes him grin instinctively.
“Seraphina,” he greets, stepping inside. Her sharp eyes pierce him with an intensity that suggests she has a lot to say about his absence.
“I know, I know,” Adam says with a chuckle, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small treat. “You were furious I left you behind. But I’m back now, alright?” He holds the treat out toward her, a silent peace offering.
Seraphina eyes him critically, her head tilting as though she’s weighing her options. After a moment’s pause, she lets out a short hoot, hops down from her perch, and takes the treat from his hand. Adam chuckles again, her approval unmistakable as she pecks at the morsel.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he leans back against the sofa. Seraphina flutters back to her perch, her feathers puffing up slightly as if to remind him of her importance. Adam smirks. “You’re not going to let me forget this, are you?”
Her sharp, almost indignant chirp is answer enough.
The next morning dawns with a golden glow, the estate bathed in soft light. The air hums with a subtle energy, as if the surrounding itself senses the significance of the day. Adam feels it too, a buzzing anticipation coursing through him. Today, Harry is scheduled to arrive, and the thought brings a smile to his face.
At breakfast, Adam sits at the long dining table, the sun streaming through the tall windows and illuminating the ancient, polished wood. As he sips his tea, he lays out his plans to his mother. “I was thinking,” he begins, his tone careful but hopeful, “maybe I could take Harry to visit Elara in America? He’s been through so much lately—it might do him some good to get away for a bit.”
His mother looks up from her plate, considering his request. After a moment, she nods, her expression softening. “It’s safer there,” she says, her voice measured yet encouraging. “You’ll enjoy it, and so will he. Just don’t let Harry wander too far. You know how curious kids can be looking staright into Adam eyes.”
Adam grins, delighted by her approval. “Thanks, Mum. I’ll make sure we both stay out of trouble.”
The hours pass quickly, and by mid-afternoon, the sound of enchanted wheels crunching against the gravel path signals the arrival of the familiar carriage. Adam strides to the estate gates, his excitement evident as the grand vehicle slows to a stop. The door opens, and Harry steps out, his eyes bright with curiosity. Hedwig flutters beside him, her snowy plumage gleaming in the sunlight.
“Hey!” Adam calls, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Good to see you again.”
Harry returns the grin, adjusting his glasses. “Hedwig insisted on coming along,” he says with a laugh, gesturing toward the owl perched proudly on his shoulder.
Adam chuckles, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a few treats for her. “I’d expect nothing less. She’s already a part of the family now.” Hedwig hoots in approval, delicately plucking the treat from his hand.
Wimble steps forward from the shadows of the gate, his posture as impeccable as always. “May I take your luggage to your room, Mr. Potter?”
Harry nods, offering a polite “Thank you,” as Wimble bows and disappears with his belongings.
The afternoon unfolds seamlessly. Over lunch, Harry fits into the Morgan family dynamic as though he’s always belonged. Stories and laughter flow freely, the warm atmosphere a stark contrast to the weight Harry often carries. Adam notices how his parents, perceptive as ever, subtly go out of their way to make Harry feel at ease.
As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the estate, Adam nudges Harry toward the gardens. “Come on,” he says, his voice light with excitement. “I’ll show you how my magical friends are doing.”
Harry follows, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling gardens, where magical flora and fauna thrive in harmony. Each corner of the estate holds memories of Adam introducing him to fascinating creatures during past visits. As they wander deeper, Harry’s eyes are drawn upward, catching a glint from the trees above. He freezes, his gaze locking onto the imposing figure of the Thunderbird perched high in the canopy.
“Whoa...” Harry mutters, his voice tinged with awe and just a hint of fear.
Adam smirks knowingly. “Let’s go say hello.”
Harry hesitates, his feet rooted to the spot. “You sure about that? It’s massive,” he says, his tone a mix of amazement and trepidation.
Laughing softly, Adam steps forward, motioning for Harry to follow. The Thunderbird’s sharp, intelligent gaze flickers downward, and with a graceful leap, it descends from the branches. Its powerful wings slice through the air as it lands smoothly in front of them, the sheer presence of the creature leaving no doubt about its majesty.
Adam turns to Harry, his voice calm and reassuring. “I met this one during the sanctuary visit. It was injured at the time, but it decided to follow me home once it recovered.”
Harry shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Of course it did. You always seem to attract the most incredible creatures.”
Despite Adam’s easy demeanor, Harry remains cautious, keeping a respectable distance from the Thunderbird. “No offense,” he says, glancing warily at the creature, “but I think I’ll just admire it from here. You know, safer this way.”
Adam chuckles, not surprised by his friend’s reaction. “Fair enough,” he replies, his tone light. “Just know that it’ll probably be around a lot now. It seems to have taken a liking to me.”
Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Just what I needed—an intimidating magical creature watching my every move.”
Adam laughs, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder as they continue their walk through the garden. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, I think it likes you.”
Harry raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, I’ll take your word for it.”
That night, Adam lies in bed, the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the tall windows of his room. The familiar canopy of carved mahogany above him offers its usual comfort, but tonight, his thoughts are too lively for rest. Excitement bubbles in his chest, refusing to settle. Tomorrow, they would leave for America to visit Elara—a journey he had long been anticipating.
Beyond the open window, the gentle rustle of leaves carries the quiet sounds of the night. Somewhere in the garden, the Thunderbird lets out a soft, melodic cry, its voice blending with the distant chirping of crickets. Adam closes his eyes, his lips curving into a small smile. The creature’s presence is oddly reassuring, as though it too is preparing for the journey ahead.
The weight of the day finally begins to catch up with him, his limbs sinking into the plush mattress. His mind drifts, filled with images of the adventures to come. Slowly, the anticipation softens, giving way to a peaceful drowsiness.