Sitting by the windowsill of the Gryffindor common room, I watched Garuda swoop and glide against the morning sun. His golden feathers gleamed, making him look even more majestic than usual. It hit me then—Garuda wasn't just a summon or a pet. He was a leader, and as I'd soon realize, a force to be reckoned with.
"Garuda," I said aloud as he landed gracefully on the ledge, tilting his head in curiosity. "We're going to create something big—a spy network. You in?"
Garuda puffed up his chest. "Of course I'm in. What's the plan?"
I grinned, my excitement growing. "Simple. You're respected by every bird, right? Use that influence. Tell them this: bring me useful information, and they'll get a reward. Food, safety, whatever they need. But I want quality intel, nothing useless."
Garuda let out a sharp cry. "Understood. I'll summon the flocks and spread the word. You'll see results in no time."
---
It didn't take long for the results to pour in. Birds from all over Hogwarts began reporting directly to me, landing on my shoulder or chirping from nearby perches. Speaking to animals felt surreal at first, but now it felt as natural as talking to a friend. The variety of accents and tones each bird had amused me endlessly.
A sparrow flitted down one morning, chirping anxiously. "Filch was yelling at someone in the trophy room last night. Something about missing cleaning supplies."
"Good work," I said, tossing it a few crumbs. "Anything else?"
The sparrow tilted its head. "The cat keeps glaring at me."
"Noted," I replied with a smile.
Some reports were less useful. A robin spent five minutes rambling about a "giant bug" it found in the Forbidden Forest, only for me to realize it was just a beetle.
But occasionally, there was gold. A crow reported seeing Snape and Quirrell arguing in a dim corridor about something. A hawk overheard Draco boasting about a "special gift" his father had sent him. Slowly, the pieces of a larger puzzle began forming.
---
By mid-January, Garuda's influence had extended far beyond Hogwarts. Owls who worked with the wizarding postal service brought back whispers from across the country. A snowy owl, who seemed particularly fond of Garuda, reported a Ministry dispute involving dark artifacts. A group of magpies delivered news of suspicious activity near Hogsmeade.
One raven, clearly proud of itself, shared details about a meeting in Knockturn Alley. "Lots of wizards in dark robes. They mentioned... the Dark Lord."
That got my attentionallthought it later turned out to be they were talking about Grindlewald. "Good job," I said, handing it a piece of meat. "Garuda, make sure this one gets extra."
The rewards system worked perfectly. Birds were motivated to deliver useful information, knowing their king would see them rewarded. Even the smallest sparrow tried to bring me something of value, though not all intel was actionable.
---
One chilly evening, a crow arrived with news that made my blood run cold.
"Master," it cawed, "I heard them. Two men in the dungeons. One had... two faces."
I froze. Two faces. That could only mean Quirrell and Voldemort. The bird continued, "They spoke about a stone. Something important. Dangerous."
So the Philosopher's Stone was officially in play. I had been so focused on training that I hadn't even noticed the Halloween troll incident or other signs pointing to Quirrell's plot. But now, there was no denying it.
"Garuda," I said, turning to him. "I need eyes on Quirrell at all times. Send out your best to watch him. I want to know what he's doing, where he's going, and who he's talking to."
"Consider it done," Garuda replied, his tone serious.
---
Beyond keeping tabs on Voldemort, the network had other uses. I used it to discover secret passages, overhear professor plans, and even avoid trouble. A particularly chatty magpie informed me of Draco's plans to prank the first-year Gryffindors, which I derailed just to see his face when it didn't work.
The castle itself became less of a mystery thanks to the birds. Ravens guided me to lesser-known classrooms perfect for training. A clever barn owl even showed me a shortcut to the kitchens, a godsend when I wanted snacks after curfew.
---
Not everyone was thrilled about the sudden influx of bird activity, though. Hagrid, in particular, seemed suspicious.
"Strange, innit?" he said one day, watching a flock of sparrows darting in unison. "Birds actin' all organized-like. Almost like they're plottin' somethin'."
I shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Maybe they're just... getting ready for spring?"
"Maybe," he muttered, scratching his beard. "But I'll be watchin'. Don' trust 'em."
I had to stifle a laugh. If only he knew.
---
By the end of March, my spy network was thriving. Garuda had cemented himself as a true king, and the birds respected him like a deity. Their loyalty to him—and by extension, to me—was unwavering. The information we gathered gave me an edge that no one else in Hogwarts could hope to match.
As I sat in the Owlery one evening, a small owl landed on my shoulder. "Quirrell is acting... strange. Nervous," it hooted softly.
"Good work," I replied, stroking its feathers. "Keep an eye on him."
Garuda perched nearby, watching me with what I could only describe as pride. "You've built something big here, Arthur. This network... it'll change everything."
I smiled, watching the moonlight dance across the feathers of my trusted companion. "We're just getting started, Garuda. Just getting started."
---Note
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