After chatting with Dumbledore for a while, Vinson finally revealed the real reason he had come.
"Professor," he began carefully, "I want to ask if you would allow me to include the Thunderbird in the practical portion of Care of Magical Creatures."
His tone carried a hint of caution. The Thunderbird's uniqueness—and its legal status—made the request feel risky.
"Why not?" Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised. "I fully support you, Vinson. Hogwarts will not restrict your teaching unless—" his eyes twinkled, "you seriously endanger the students. But I doubt that could happen. Your abilities are quite well-known."
Vinson was taken aback by the compliment but remained cautious. "Will the Ministry of Magic allow it, though? Isn't privately raising a protected magical creature against the law?"
"This," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile, "is not private breeding." He winked. "You are raising the Thunderbird for Hogwarts' educational purposes, aren't you? In that case, the Ministry will certainly agree. Completely reasonable—and completely legal."
"I… suppose you're right, Professor."
Relief washed over him. He had clearly been overthinking the issue. Dumbledore didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the idea of him raising a Thunderbird. He didn't even seem remotely concerned about the Ministry.
Then again—this was Dumbledore. If he wanted something, the Ministry of Magic would almost certainly end up agreeing, willingly or not.
Dumbledore lightly stroked the Thunderbird's neck, and to no surprise, the majestic creature showed no fear of him at all.
"How does teaching at Hogwarts feel so far?" Dumbledore asked, smiling as he ran his fingers through the Thunderbird's gleaming feathers.
Vinson hesitated, then admitted, "Honestly… I'm not sure yet."
"Not sure?" Now Dumbledore looked puzzled. "What's happened?"
"I haven't actually taught a class yet. My first one is this afternoon." Vinson paused, then added, "Professor, I think Care of Magical Creatures could benefit from additional class hours. Even if it's an elective…"
"Additional classes?" Dumbledore murmured, as though the idea were something akin to a student requesting more exams.
Vinson launched into a passionate explanation about the importance of magical creatures—how much more hands-on practice students needed, how beneficial it would be for their studies and their futures. He spoke until his throat felt dry.
At last, Dumbledore raised a hand in surrender.
"Perhaps," he said gently, "you could start a Care of Magical Creatures club."
With a flick of his wand, he politely—but unmistakably—ushered Vinson out of the office.
A gust of wind carried him through the doorway, robes fluttering. Vinson sighed. It wasn't unexpected.
At Hogwarts, Care of Magical Creatures was treated much like physical education in Muggle schools. Important, certainly, but never prioritized over core academic subjects. Schools might add more theory classes, but almost never more practical ones.
His suggestion had been more wishful thinking than anything.
Besides, the current Hogwarts schedule was already packed. There was hardly room to squeeze in another course even if Dumbledore wanted to.
As Vinson walked down the corridor, he began thinking of names for the Thunderbird—then abruptly stopped, stunned.
He had forgotten the Thunderbird in Dumbledore's office.
After lunch, Professor Sprout invited Vinson to join her in Greenhouse Three.
As they walked toward the greenhouses, she began reminiscing. "Do you remember when you were in school, Vinson? You used to come help me tend the herbs—and then leave with pockets full of seeds. Ah, when you get older, you tend to think back on the past more often."
"That helped me more than you know," Vinson replied with a warm smile. "Especially during my travels later on. Though… I truly am sorry I haven't visited you much since graduating."
"Nothing to apologize for," Professor Sprout said kindly, eyes narrowing into cheerful crescents. "As long as you're putting what you learned to good use, that's more than enough."
They reached the greenhouse door, and Sprout pushed it open.
The moment Vinson stepped inside, the contrast between Sprout's greenhouse and his own Plantation hit him. Her greenhouse was meticulously arranged—rows of carefully tended magical herbs, temperature-sensitive buds, and precious plants that would wither at the slightest mishandling.
His Plantation, by comparison, was chaotic—a wild fusion of rare and common flora thrown together with little regard for harmony. Whether a plant thrived or not was left up to fate.
And yet, thanks to his unique magic, most of them survived anyway. Over generations, they even developed astonishing resilience.
Unfortunately… they also sometimes mutated in strange ways.
Like the Demiguise plants—traditionally lifesaving, but somehow turned poisonous under Vinson's cultivation. No one would believe that a plant known for restoring vitality could suddenly become lethal.
Professor Sprout grabbed a pair of thick dragon-hide gloves and handed them to him. "We received a new batch of Venomous Tentacula. Their roots need tending. You'll help me, won't you? Just like the old days."
"Venomous Tentacula?" Vinson raised an eyebrow but put on the gloves smoothly. "I hope I still remember how."
He remembered perfectly.
For him, tending magical plants was like riding a broom—once learned, never forgotten.
Soon enough, he was working confidently among the writhing vines.
"Your movements are still very nimble," Professor Sprout said, watching his practiced motions. "Seems you haven't gotten rusty since graduating."
Vinson smiled, trimming away a particularly stubborn root. "Of course not, Professor. I've been maintaining a Plantation—collecting and growing magical plants from all over during my travels."
"What?" Sprout gasped, startled. "You never told me that! How is it doing now?"
Vinson's chest puffed with pride. "Quite well. If you have time someday, I'd love to show you."
"Then I shall look forward to your invitation, Professor Vinson." She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she finished with the last Tentacula. "Thank you for helping. I doubt I would've finished all this before my afternoon class."
Preparing lessons had left her completely overwhelmed.
Vinson removed the gloves and set them aside. "You should pick a few students to help you—like you picked me back then."
Sprout chuckled. "Oh, that won't do. Not all students are as naturally gifted as you. I'd end up cleaning after them."
"If there aren't any students, I can always help you," Vinson said lightly. "Just like old times."
Sprout looked pleased, though she shook her head. "A professor is a far busier creature than a student, Vinson. But I appreciate the offer."
She glanced around the greenhouse, satisfied now that everything was in order. "Still, your visit has warmed this old heart more than you know."
Vinson smiled, brushing a stray vine aside. "Helping you is the least I can do."
Outside, the sunlight cast warm golden patterns through the glass panes, and the greenhouse—filled with gentle rustling and the scent of herbs—felt just as it had during his school days.
Almost like coming home
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