A/N I do not own any characters of creatures mentioned in this story.
Newt stands at the window, examining the field around him. Covered in hundreds of little animal habitats, it felt exactly like home. He remembered when he first started out. Oh, the nostalgia. He had a case, like the world stretched out before him. He remembered his first adventure with his wife in New York City. He reminisced about the days where he could do the Erumpent mating dance. But now his hands where freckled with liver spots, his knees shook more than he let on, and he could hardly walk more than thirty feet without the help of his study cane. But he was thankful for what he had. A larger house, a firm paycheck, a lovely, wonderful wife, and ten times as many animals to love and protect.
On the horizon, a small speck appeared. Small, very lopsided, flapping its way to the window Newt stood at. An owl, Newt realized. It landed on the windowsill of the open window, a very old creature, that was for sure. A letter was clipped between its beak. On the letter, in rushed handwriting, read, "Mr. Newt Scamander". A bowtruckle, a long descendant of his beloved Pickett, climbed up his cane as easily as if it was a branch and gazed curiously at the new animal. Newt pocketed the letter and took the owl, administering the much needed care. He smoothed his feathers and gave him some special owl food, hoping it would help.
His quill was still hovering over the page where he had left it, when he was gotten tired of writing his new book and needed a reminder of why he put time into it. To tell the world about things like the mooncalf, who was nudging his hand as he walked over to his chair, or the Fwooper residing on his perch, flapping his wings indignantly.
Newt sat down in a large armchair across from his wife, who was reading a long book. He loved it when she read, the way her eyes scanned the page and reached out for new information. Newt was observant like that. He knew all of her quirks, and her, all of his. So when he sat down with a 'hurumph' on his chair, she looked up.
"What is it, dear?" Tina asked, brushing aside a strand of silver hair. It used to be a lovely brown, but now it shined silver like a demiguise's silk.
"I got a letter," Newt answered, prying open the paper with a wizened hand.
"How lovely, what does it say?" She asked,setting down her book to look properly at her husband.
Newt finally got the letter open and cleared his throat. "It says, 'Dear Mister Scamander. My name is Molly Weasley, and I'm writing to you about my second eldest son, Charlie.'"
"A fan you think?" Asked Tina when Newt paused.
"I suppose so. The letter continues. 'The boy is intrigued and fascinated by all and every magical creature, most especially dragons. My husband and I got him your book as a present for his first year at Hogwarts, and he was absolutely enthralled. Ever since devouring the book, he has dreamed about meeting you in person. I do believe you have become some sort of a personal hero to him.'"
"Oh, I love it when people say things like that about you, it makes me so happy," Tina said when Newt stopped to draw breath.
"I do as well. It makes me feel so appreciated. All my hard work, not gone to waste. But the letter isn't finished. 'I most certainly understand you are a very important and busy person with much more important things to do and many more matters to attend to, so that would put a personally meeting out of the questions, but I would like to ask you to take a sliver of time from your day to write Charlie a little note.' Now that wouldn't be too much of a problem, now would it?" Asked Newt to Tina, who nodded.
"Continue," she motioned.
Newt stroked the fox like creature that had settled into his lap and finished the letter off. "'His 12th birthday is coming in two days. He would be positively thrilled if he received a handwritten note from you personally. Even if it was just a few words of encouragement, it would mean the world to him. I apologize from talking time from your day, but if it isn't' that much of a bother, I would ask you to send such note with the owl that sent this letter. Much thanks, Molly Weasley.'" Newt smiled to himself and reread the letter. Mrs. Molly Weasley was right to some extent, he was a very busy man, but not too busy… "Love, I have an idea," Newt said. "I propose we go and meet this young man."
"Oh, dandy. You said his birthday was in two days? We can arrange a meeting place by then. Why not here?"
Newt nodded. "We could make that happen. I'll write back. Let's say, noon in two days, my home. You man make that delicious strudel for this Charlie and his parents. " Newt pulled a pen from the inkwell, and flipped the paper over. He wrote carefully, telling Mrs. Weasley what could be arranged. Newt Scamander would most certainly meet this young boy and share with him all those life experiences he had enjoyed. He hoped meeting with Charlie would make the boy as happy as he felt with all the fantastic creatures around him. He wished for a new spring in his step and a glint of newfound determination for his new and last book. This was a dream come true for Charlie, and if there was one thing Newt loved, even in his old age, it was seeing dreams come true.
This is a (or is it 'an'? I don't know) one shot that could turn into so much more! I might just expand this into a few more chapters, if you readers enjoy it. Thank for reading!