He'd accepted life as a bachelor. Being a Scamander made Rolf weird, make no mistake, but he liked it. It was not simply the nickname. When he was a small boy, Rolf's grandfather had said things fell into place. They usually worked themselves out for better or worse; these things took time if he waited. At the moment, he focused on making sure the grandparents landed on their feet, and he went where he was needed.
Rolf knew if he were a woman, he'd be worried about his biological clock; he was nearing thirty. He had no prospects, but he was luckily of the other persuasion; thirty, the big three oh made him fell like he readied himself to hit a brick wall. He was a stocky, swarthy man who spent all his time among beasts and creatures. Since his agéd grandfather, the famous Newt Scamander was deaf and going blind, Rolf visited in the summertime and forever called Dorset home.
No longer reddish brown-haired and lithe, Newt Scamander moved like a crab these days, a crab with creaky parts, though he was still skinny. He sometimes needed help up the stairs because he was a little shaky with Apparition, but as he remained on the right side of the grass, he didn't complain much. Rolf tapped on the trusty suitcase and climbed down the ladder, holding a lantern aloft.
"Grandad it's three in the morning," he said. Rolf was up because he needed to tend Kowalski Keep. His days started a t three in the morning and ended at around seven in the evening. Newt ran the magi-zoo, a cloaked exhibit within London Zoo. Well, these days if they were being completely honest, Rolf ran it and did all the behind-the-scenes work. "What're you doing?"
Rolf set the lantern on the worktable and pulled up a chair; he spun it around with a quick hand. There were newly healed burns on his arms. Before his grandfather really started going downhill, and it was a lightning speed switch, Rolf had divided his time between dragons in Romania and the other beasts.
"Couldn't sleep." Newt whistled a tune and gathered his gloves and things. Rolf followed. He'd been around these creatures with his grandfather since before he could walk. At the ripe old age of one hundred, Newt clung to his independence for dear life, so Rolf stayed right behind him and kept his distance. "You're a good boy, Frank, but you don't need that girl. I keep telling you you're going to trap yourself if you're not careful."
Rolf sighed. Half of the time, Newt thought Rolf was his father, Francis; Rolf favored his good for nothing mother he never met, so he didn't really understand the confusion. Rolf's grandmother said he sounded like his father, and he did favor Frank, whether neither Rolf nor Frank chose to see it. Frank, the deadbeat dad who loved his layabouts and his money, got cut off from the family. Rolf had been bounced between his father and grandparents throughout his childhood. And the elder parents saved his life.
"It already happened, Grandad. On the bright side? You like Little Newt." Rolf stopped when his grandfather patted his cheek and seemed to wake up. They went into the Mooncalves enclosure and feed the creatures. Newt muttered they cut it short, as the sun would soon be up; the exhibit was forever set on a moonlight setting, so this hardly mattered. "I can handle this. Jot down a list."
"A list, a list, you'll tire of that damn thing. Like a never-ending story, Little Newt." Newt shuffled over to the other side and tossed grubs about. On his way back towards his grandson, he fell. Something went wrong. As he fought to get up, he slapped Rolf's hand away, slipped again, and grabbed for his coat. "Damn it. My hip."
"Leave the pail. You feed them too much anyway, and lean on me. I've got you, Grandad, here we go." Rolf held him like a small child, careful with his legs, and Disapparated. They Apparated into the sitting room, and Rolf laid him out on the couch. He heard light snoring and noticed a young girl with blonde hair fast asleep on the comfortable couch. He lowered his voice and mended his grandfather's hip with some quick wandwork. "Who's that? Who's the girl?"
Rolf went over and covered the girl with a light blanket he got off the back of his grandfather's couch. She stirred a little before she curled up and dozed off again.
"Oh, sure, let's help the pretty girl before we check on the old man." Newt grinned toothily and snorted when Rolf apologized. "Pretty, isn't she? She has this little plant friend, but I don't think they're involved. And he's actually not that little."
"Stop. Why do you insist on playing matchmaker?"
Rolf blushed, thankful there was no light in the sitting room. The smooth talking house-elf, Noah, had no doubt been around to extinguish them and would be up around seven to start the day. When he went to tuck the blanket around her, she rested her hand on his arm and drowsily called him Mr. Scamander. He cursed when she opened her eyes; they were a startling bluish-silver.
Rolf feared he unintentionally insulted her. "Damn it. Not you. I'm going ... I'm going back over ... there."
Rolf pointed over his shoulder and backed off like she was a Hippogriff. Newt pulled himself into a sitting position and snorted. He cackled like a witch, dragging the awkwardness out. He froze when she introduced herself as Luna Lovegood, a possible candidate for his internship and sat up, patting the spot beside her.
"You're Newt Scamander, too, named after him," she said, stating this as a matter-of-fact. Luna didn't blink often, and Rolf got lost in her eyes.
"Yes." He crossed his legs. It wasn't until Ninja the Niffler crawled out of the suitcase that Rolf realized he left it open. Quick for first thing in the morning, the very early morning, he snatched the Niffler after it nicked Luna's earrings, and Rolf hauled it back into the case and locked it with his wand. He went back to Luna and opened his hand. "You really shouldn't sleep with radishes in your ears, Miss Lovegood."
His grandfather had started nodding off.
"You think they are strange," she said, setting them on the side table.
Unlike most people who would have panicked when the Niffler had attacked her, Luna had cuddled the thing and assisted it with the robbery. A couple Kneazles, Milly and Mauler, had nestled themselves by her feet, a converged furry ball of fluff. Rolf shook his head, unconsciously reciting his grandmother's line about the world being strange.
"We simply find a way to fit into the strangeness." Rolf conjured a tray of coffee and tea. Luna positively beamed at him.
He didn't know that his grandfather had already put out feelers for an apprentice in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, and apparently, the New York Ghost. Of course, whenever Newt needed something done, he hit the ground running, or in his case, hobbling, so this shouldn't have surprised him. Luna had read about it in the Quibbler. After the end of the war, the Quibbler, a rag for the weirdos or those who needed a laugh, got quite the following and the readership shot up.
"Rolf loves that paper," said Newt.
"Do you? My father's the editor." Luna didn't have to bother asking whether she had the job. Rolf said he usually set off at five. He put in a good twelve or fourteen hours at Kowalski Keep. "Excellent."
"Oh, you don't have to come," said Rolf. He knocked up a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. After breakfast, Luna went to get ready for the day with her red rucksack. Rolf told her she could start on Wednesday or Thursday because anyone who was anyone hated Mondays.
"Rolf, are you turning down help?" Newt wagged a finger at him like like he told off his old friend, Felix the Niffler. Rolf shrugged. "Do you want to come home at five or seven? Shave off some of that time, and show Miss Lovegood the ropes."
"Okay. Let's do this. If you come to the Keep, Grandad, and I'm not saying you should, it's a light day for you. You tell Gran happened," said Rolf.
Newt grimaced. Even with the healing spell, the hip got repaired a lot and caused problems. He conjured his walking stick. "You tell Gran."
He didn't have time for this argument. Rolf took Luna by the hand, and they Disapparated. When they appeared at the London Zoo, he dropped her hand. He asked her if she had any plans. She said no, which was good, because he advised her to clear her schedule for the foreseeable future. The London Zoo, of course, wasn't open this early, so he snuck in, passed the security guard, and they approached the tiger exhibit.
"Link. Lincoln. Link?" Rolf took a wrapped, chopped up steak chunks and waved them at the young male. He nudged Luna, explaining this was part of the morning ritual because Link didn't like mornings. The tiger sauntered over as Rolf put his arm through the glass and the barrier shimmered. Bending over the wooden plague, pretending to read it, Rolf said, clearly and calmly, "Mr. Newt R. Scamander requests entry into Kowalski Keep."
After a quick wand screening and an American recording of 'Scamander', the barrier disappeared. He took Luna by the arm, looked both ways for Muggles like he crossed the road, and vanished into the magi-zoo.
Rolf considered himself a reasonable man. People might not think he was sane, thanks to his grandfather, but he had a level head on his shoulders. He had some street smarts, and he understood how to manage money. Three years in running Kowalski Keep solo with Luna's helping hand, he got a visitor on the back of a large Welsh Green at five in the morning.
"Guess who this is?" Charlie Weasley jumped down and stroked the beauty.
"No idea. How in the hell did you get this thing through the London Zoo?"
In their sixth-year at Hogwarts, Rolf and Charlie had both been recruited to join dragon research in Romania. Charlie stayed. A little cautious, Rolf reached up and stroked the dragon as Charlie said the Muggles would buy any story; he'd claimed to have a shipment of elephants. Rolf noticed burns covered his arms. When the dragon bowed its head like a trusting Hippogriff, Rolf climbed onto its back. He guessed it was a male, given it's more docile demeanor.
"It's all right, Miles. Daddy's forgotten you. That's abandonment, Scamander, but you know. Whatever." Charlie clapped his hands together and signaled to the dragon.
"This is Miles. Miles? My Miles? Ha, ha. Oh, wait." Rolf screamed, repositioned himself, and sat upright as the large beast expanded its majestic wings and took to the grey skies in the lush, green fields.
It had been years, more years than he liked to admit since he'd ridden a dragon. It felt fantastic! He gripped the scales and kicked Miles's right side, testing him. Wizards and witches usually rode brooms and sometimes magic carpets abroad. Miles veered to the right at the slightest touch and zoomed around the keep. Once he got comfortable, which took no time at all to get back, he went by and grabbed Luna.
She said no at first until Charlie said it was like riding a trained thestral. Exhilaration filled him. Rolf remembered pure freedom from Romania; the boundaries faded away. He settled Luna behind him, not wanting her to miss a moment of this, and rested his breathing when she latched on for dear life. Her dirty blonde hair hit him in the face.
"I was there when Miles hatched," he said, raising his voice so Luna heard him. She nodded. Rolf advised her to try not to move, for Miles needed to follow his instructions. He nudged Miles three times on the left side; the dragon flew higher and higher. Rolf leaned on Miles and grunted when Luna grabbed him, bettering her death grip. "Miles, brother, spiral."
"What?" Fear crept into Luna's voice as the dragon rolled and spun like a top.
Rolf couldn't hear Charlie, but he glimpsed him raising his arms and imagined him celebrating. Rolf could hear Luna loud and clear, though, and after a few revolutions, she quieted. Rolf smiled when she laid her head on his shoulder. He gave one last command of "Fire!" when he checked the clearing. Flames shot from Miles's nostrils. Luna clapped when the beast rushed towards the earth.
Praying to Merlin she trusted him, he said, calmly, "Let go, Luna."
"What? No!" Luna gaped when he grabbed her and switched positions with her with a few deft movements. She shook with fear.
"Miles, release," said Rolf, warning the beautiful beast.
He secured his hold on Luna, laughing freely for the first time in ages. Next moment, they plunged towards the ground. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and caught in the moment, Rolf pressed his lips to hers. When their lips parted, she took a breath, opened her eyes, and kissed him back as they rolled onto the ground. Rolf locked her in a hold and forgot himself; he brushed his fingers on her lips.
Luna stared at him, breathless. "Mr. Scamander."
"Your fear was worth it, wasn't it? You can't capture this feeling." Rolf helped her to her feet and stroked Miles.
"Oh, I dunno," said Charlie, smirking.
Luna blushed. She went to sit on a bench as Rolf circled around the dragon in the distance. Charlie showed him the weathered, damaged scales, and Rolf found it extremely hard to concentrate. Charlie said he'd heard from his sister this girl was a strange one, and Luna and Ginny were good friends.
"Good. She's nice ... that's nice," said Rolf, his face reddening when Luna crossed her bare legs. Charlie rolled his eyes, and his lips moved, but Rolf, dazed, heard none of it.
"You're thirty-two, and you've never ...?" Charlie apparently reminded himself who he spoke to. Rolf didn't want to admit that was his first kiss. Charlie shook his head sadly and clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, you're missing out, Scamander. The horizontal dance, especially when you strike the right chord, it's a fun one. Go dancing."
Charlie wasn't married. As far as Rolf knew, and he wasn't too sure because they hadn't been around each other in years, Charlie had no girlfriend. "You ... you dance a lot?"
"Oh, Scamander, Scamander, so innocent. So caring, so loyal," said Charlie, leaning in closer. "All the time, mate. You'd be less ... you. Consider this advice my birthday gift."
Rolf had completely forgotten his birthday, but at the moment this was beside the point. He'd thought the dragon would be a parting gift. Of course, the last thing Charlie would want is a majestic dragon chained up. Rolf wouldn't chain the beast and lock it away for something at a freak show. Even with the exhaustive habitats, Miles wouldn't be home. Rolf rather take his own life because his grandfather would be angry beyond angry, but there was a reason Charlie Weasley was here.
Rolf waited, expectant. Charlie said they bred miniature Welsh Greens by mistake with Miles, here, and there was no telling how this creature ended up with a Miniature Moroccan. Or maybe the smaller dragon had simply been the runt of the litter. Rolf walked around with and fed his charges whilst Charlie took his precious time with his proposal.
"You're bored here," said Charlie, clapping his hands together when he finally chose an approach. Rolf said no. Whatever sales pitch was going to roll itself out of Charlie mouth, Rolf was fine where he was, thank you very much, and Charlie could go on home now.
"I'm not bored," said Rolf.
"Lies. He is a liar." Charlie turned to Luna, desperate for an ally here. She considered him with unfocused, baleful eyes. "Wouldn't you want to travel the with this man around the world for the rest of your life? Scamander's rich. He's not a male model, but he's rather good-looking. He sings."
"Charlie," said Rolf, frowning.
"Shhh, shhh, I'm negotiating here." Charlie waved at him like he would a small child. Rolf settled for bemusement. They shared a look and turned to Luna.
Ten years passed in a blink of an eye with lots of fun. With nothing to tie either of them down, Rolf and Luna went anywhere and everywhere; sometimes they travelled to more than one place in a day. He married her in a quiet ceremony in Wales, although he made the mistake of inviting Rita Skeeter. The most vile wedding dress made history in some poll of the gossip column, though Rolf himself never got around to reading it. After a few years of marriage, they sat down and had the talk; they put kids on the back burner because they weren't ready to settle down.
By July 2011, the lure of settling down appeared really promising. They were stationed in Romania to help Charlie run the sanctuary, and they'd signed on for three years. No contract tied them down. They stayed at a cheap hotel away from the sanctuary. Luna laid down after lunch and asked him why in the world he would throw this away.
"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"
Rolf switched his boots and tossed his clothes into the hamper. He went into the bathroom and left the door opened as he showered. Changed and refreshened in minutes, he went back and saw Luna passed out.
It was hot and humid in the summertime, and no matter how much she claimed it didn't bother her, he saw it. Rolf opened the window, praying for a nonexistent breeze. He noticed a man dressed in casual clothing standing under their window; he had his back turned. Luna grew and grew over these last months. She wore secondhand clothes from her finds in a nearby consignment shop.
Rolf's alarm beeped, telling him he had seven minutes left in lunch. Friday was usually a lighter day, but he didn't want her slipping on the rocks of the encampment. Luna raised her arm and silently asked for a hand.
"No, no," he said, resting a hand on her belly. He felt nothing, guessing the babies took an afternoon nap. Singing softly to her out of habit, he took the light quilt off the bed and tucked her in. Luna sighed, giving up easily when he kissed her goodbye. She threw off the quilt, making him laugh. She asked him to sing to the boys every night, and he promised to do so. "You rest. I'll be back around four."
"Five." Luna took pride in knowing Rolf's timetable better than he did.
"No, four. It's Friday, and I get off at three-thirty." Rolf said goodbye again and gave her another whiskery kiss. He'd send an owl once the gang figured out dinner plans.
He checked to make sure the door was locked from the inside and Disapparated. When he Apparated outside the nest or lair, Rolf knew immediately knew something was wrong; the place bustled with life for a laid back Friday. They were a group of six men and one woman. He spoke Brazilian and Spanish with the foreign handlers, but they said nothing. Usually a chatty lot of men, even though some of them spoke broken English, nobody seemed to be able to meet each other's eyes. They cringed at Charlie's anger.
Charlie was usually a popular man with friendly disposition, so this was peculiar. Fierce as a Hungarian Horntail, he paced back and forth like a drill sergeant ripping into his platoon. Rolf knew it was best not to interrupt. Charlie didn't speak any other language than English or Romanian; he'd picked up the latter bring immersed in the culture here, and only a dragon problem could have pushed him over the edge.
Rolf raised his hand like a shy student when Charlie bellowed, "Any questions?"
Rolf's voice shook a little. He'd only ever met Molly Weasley once, but her son looked remarkably like her in this state. The dynamic Spanish duo quelled in front of the stockier man. "Me. What are you going about?"
Charlie swore, switching between his tongues. Rolf followed, careful with the uneven terrain as they headed deeper into the lair. A pair of Welsh Greens sat curled up together. When Rolf and Charlie approached, one of them, the female, shot flames out of her nostrils and reared on her agile reptilian legs.
It struck. Rolf's flesh tore as the creature's tail grazed his cheek. Blinded, he backed off in surprise and imagined his face being ripped off. He saw red. The other dragon, her mate, no doubt enticed by the blood, sensed weakness. Rolf didn't dare touch the wound. Blood leaked down his face and congealed into his beard.
Rolf focused and saw Charlie flash three fingers in his face. Thinking he asked the age old question about the number of fingers Rolf said, "Three. I'm fine, really, because we can look at this once we get out of here."
Charlie flexed the fingers in his hand, probably trying not to punch anyone. "I don't give a damn about your face, pretty boy. There were five eggs, and two of those eggs are missing. I checked last night at midnight. What does that tell you?"
"Someone from within," said Rolf. He did some shoddy self-healing, Charlie nodded, taking this answer as good enough, and Rolf wasn't foolish enough to suggest the man had miscounted. "Greens. Those are valuable."
"No shit, Merlin." Charlie marched back through the encampment, grabbed two large wicker baskets with Self-Lock lids and told him to grab a broom. Rolf borrowed Fuentes's. After tying the baskets to the broomsticks, Charlie kicked off with his Black Hole and they took to the skies. Charlie, fretting as he combed the air and mentioned they could be anywhere.
"Wasn't there a third Welsh Green?" Charlie said no. Rolf accelerated his broom and caught Charlie in a random spiel. Rolf spotted an identical basket on the back of a bicycle on the side of a road about twenty kilometers. He motioned to Charlie.
"He's mine," hissed Charlie. Like bullets, they zoomed towards the earth, sensing clay everywhere, and Charlie grabbed the thief by the shirt and lifted him off the ground when he walked languidly out of a shop. The man reached for his wand, but Rolf disarmed him and caught the wand with a deft hand. Charlie rammed him into a wall. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Stealing from a sanctuary!"
"I know nothing!" The man, breathless, looked from Rolf to Charlie and back again. Rolf reminded him, quite calmly, though his voice leaked with anger, that dragon eggs were a Class A Non-Traceable substance. In Romania, they might not have execution, but there were severe consequences to these actions. The man sweated bullets. "I...I know nothing. It is not mine. I know nothing."
"You know nothing. Well, you certainly don't know how to care for these beauties." Charlie carried the man over to the side of the road and slammed him into a half wall. "A name. Who let you into the encampment?"
" I ... I walk in ... like you." The frightened man invented wildly.
"The sanctuary is protected by spells and enchantments, idiot, do you think we're stupid? Someone let you in or met you outside the boundaries. It's Unplottable. A name!"
"Sanchez." The man gasped when Charlie tightened his hold. Rolf checked the basket and found one egg. When Charlie asked where the second egg was, he had no more answers to give other than someone owed money to someone else. Rolf dropped his wand on the floor, and they headed back to camp after grabbing the precious egg.
Charlie didn't calm down when he reached the sanctuary. After getting through the protective spells, he went to the other Spaniard, Fuentes, and interrogated him. Rolf did the questioning whilst Charle acted as the muscle. The other, it seemed, had fled. Rolf spoke in rapid Spanish, firing off questions, and he fell into a pattern of repeating himself.
"Why take the eggs?" Rolf asked out of mere curiosity in his native tongue.
"Scamander. Egg shells. Collateral." The man called Fuentes smiled serenely as he switched to English. As he headed down the slippery slope, he sounded American. Rolf, horrified, froze. Back in December 1926, Rolf's grandfather had given Jacob Kowalski a case full of eggshells as collateral for a bank loan in New York.
Charlie turned to Rolf, turning his wand on him. Rolf, wary, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"It's not him, although a dead Scamander wouldn't go amiss," said the man. He ignored Rolf when he, Rolf, said he was an observer at the sanctuary site and nothing more. The American nodded at Charlie before he turned back to Rolf. "Is your wife comfortable? She married into a good family for being complete lunatic."
Rolf reacted before the thought registered in his brain. He shoved Charlie aside, which was no easy feat in itself, and slammed the man's head against the wall twice. Fuentes crumpled at his feet. Rolf wiped boots on the man's robes and treaded his fingers none too gently. "No mi familia!"
"Damn, Scamander," said Charlie, sounding impressed.
The Brazilians, Jaime and Jorge, simply stared, aghast. Rolf told the others to secure the encampment and alert the authorities, if needed, though they'd have this handled before the government needed to lift a finger. Charlie quickened his step and followed Rolf outside. He asked where the hell the stronger Scamander had been all these years. Rolf ignored him, his mind three steps ahead, hoping he did indeed have the advantage, they Disapparated.
They Apparated back to the hotel and strode into the place. Charlie chatted with the landlord and asked if there had been a Mrs. Scamander sighting since lunchtime, for Luna was hard to miss. Rolf ignored the comment about his wife being weird. The landlord said no. Panicked, his heart racing, Rolf dashed upstairs with Charlie by his side.
"Eggshells? What the hell is that about?" Charlie demanded.
"Occamy eggshells," said Rolf in a rush. As usual, Charlie rolled his eyes and grumbled that he wanted his dragon. Rolf broke this down in the simplest terms. "Their eggs are made of the purest, softest silver. Extremely valuable. My grandfather gave some to a No-Maj."
"Newt Scamander?" Charlie, confused, clearly didn't understand the rest of it. "Gave some to a who?"
"A No-Maj. A Muggle. Americans call them No-Majs." Rolf filled him in, shrugging.
He could have been a foreign exchange student at the American school in his seventh-year if he hadn't gone chasing dragons. Once he heard a scuffle inside, Rolf rammed his shoulder into the cheap door and burst into his room. He drew his wand and pointed it at the thickset Spaniard, though he couldn't remember his name. It could have been Muñoz? He could tell this one was truly Spanish by the way he spoke. The man wielded a knife and held it to Luna's throat; a snapped wand lay at his feet. The room appeared ransacked.
"Let me go," said Luna evenly, winded. She reached for her wand on the bedside table. The man knocked to the ground.
"That's your first warning," said Charlie. He and Rolf pointed their wands at the man.
"Are you all right?" Rolf held his wand quite steady and addressed Luna in a steely voice. She nodded, groaning when the Spaniard grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her feet. She cried out. "I'll thank you for getting your filthy hands off my wife, señor."
Next moment, Charlie and Rolf shouted "Stupefy!", and the Spaniard slammed into the opposite wall and passed out. Rolf rushed over to Luna and wrapped his arms around her. She said over and over she was all right, but he wasn't satisfied until Charlie told him to back off.
"Rolf, I'm fine. We're fine." Luna kicked the shards of the man's wand aside and wondered aloud how passerby had not heard her screaming outside.
"It doesn't matter as long as you're all right … you all need to be all right. You're safe with me. Vet your people, Charlie," said Rolf, still shaking as he sat down on the bed with Luna.
She took one of his hands and rested the other one on her side. Rolf didn't have anything to do with the sanctuary, but he vetted his people for the proposed magi-zoo in New York, and that wasn't even officially in the works yet.
"You are one of my people, Scamander." Charlie grinned at him and returned Luna's smile. "You and Lovegood here are my on call folks. By the way, what do you think about Argentina in February?"
Luna waved her hand, pointing out her whole body. She snapped her fingers and shuffled over to get his dragon egg from the beside table drawer.
"Breeders. I forgot. Thanks." Charlie tucked the dragon egg under his arm left to send an owl to the authorities and came back after a while. He held up two fingers. "I'm simply throwing this out there; I've got two requests. "First, since you're having this many kids, Charles isn't a bad name. Second, I want to meet Newt Scamander."
"I'm Newt Scamander." Rolf shot his arm up in the air like a student answering a professor's question. He recited his full name as Luna punched him in the other arm and Charlie flipped him off. "Newton Artemis Fido Rolf Scamander. Yep, that's me."
"Smart ass." Charlie sat through the interrogation and acted as an interpreter when the authorities showed up to take a statement. One official from the Romanian Department of Magical Law Enforcement asked if Luna needed to go the hospital. Both Rolf and Luna said no. When they left, Charlie downright called this stupid. "You lot can leave whenever. Luna? You done now, Luna?"
"With the project?" Luna knew this would make them three, maybe four men down on the research, and Charlie, for as great as Charlie was, could not man this alone. She started crying. They'd anticipated this conversation, but she took it stronger than Charlie or Rolf expected.
"Sorry," said Charlie, realizing too late he chose a dangerous topic to lead into.
"Here. No, it's okay. It's okay." Rolf offered her a handkerchief and squeezed her shoulder. "You should make Fridays easier."
"Easier Fridays, stronger vetting," said Charlie, throwing his suggestions back at him and saying he'd have to pool immediately from his list of candidates. "Can you lot stick around for that? When are the babies coming?"
"Late August," said Rolf, pecking his wife on the cheek. Luna, after she gathered herself, said she was fine.
"Can't believe you're making this man a dad," said Charlie, giving her hand a squeeze and telling them he was losing his two best people. Two best English people. Rolf had recently accepted a position as a correspondent as Chief Consulting Magizoologist for the Daily Prophet. "Look at you. Rita Skeeter with beasties, and creatures, and magic. Oh, my."
Luna snorted.
"I am not Rita Skeeter." Rolf shook his head at Luna. "Why are you encouraging him? What's this? Whose side are you on?"
"I'm not … you said it." Luna mirrored Rolf as he struggled to string a proper defense. She patted his knee and winked at Charlie when Rolf pretended he wasn't paying attention. Rolf called her a traitor and she said, absentmindedly straightening his clothes as he rattled on. "That's right, Rolf, you keep telling yourself that. What's for dinner? We still get dinner even though we've quit, right?"
"Really? Really?" Rolf frowned at her and rolled his eyes. "Do you ever think of anything else?"
"I'm never going through this again, so, please, Newton, let's get all the jokes out whilst we have the time. Luna can't see her feet. Ha!" Luna played copy cat again, this time showing him what he looked like without a mirror. and he smiled, enjoying the game, so it rather backfired on her, and gave her another kiss. She smiled, softening on the spot, and snuggling closer to her husband.
If Rolf thought he lost his freedom, he gained a family; they went from two to four a couple of months later. Luna had the babies shortly after returning to London. Although Rolf thought he would hate being tied down to a desk, he found he enjoyed working with the paper because they sent him out on assignment a lot. Over the next few years, he had traveled to three continents on behalf of the Daily Prophet; this technically made him a foreign correspondent. Perhaps because Rita Skeeter hated it, he sometimes contributed to the Quibbler.
He tried telling his father-in-law his pieces were based in fact. Mr. Lovegood lived on his imagination, and it appeared he and his daughter took his imaginings for fact. These were the only arguments that he and Luna had. There was no such thing, for instance, as the Crumple Homed Snorkack. Luna seemed to have come to terms with that one; not everything she believed could be real, so now they tackled Nargles.
Belief, true belief, gave Luna her essence, so he wasn't trying to destroy her. However, this put him in an interesting position because his own grandfather had worked tirelessly with his research and texts. In order to convince Luna something didn't exist, he went through great lengths to show her it wasn't there; this feat proved more complicated than it sounded.
After dropping the boys of in Dorset with Newt, they headed to Argentina. Luna, who hadn't travelled abroad in ages, acted more excited than Rolf; he was on assignment, but he'd never been to a Quidditch World Cup. He'd been to the Patagonian Desert a handful of times. As they entered the stadium, he met his Brazilian friends near the VIP box.
"Jorge Bello-Ríos e Jaime Flores, os meus irmãos," said Rolf, embracing them warmly. Jorge and Jaime, who were supporting Brazil, of course, kissed Luna and followed her up to the box. Rita Skeeter, her crocodile bag swinging from her arm, caught Rolf before he could escape her clutches or that damned Quick Quotes Quill. Rita had aged a lot in recent years.
"Rolf, Rolf, a moment," said Rita, waving him over energetically.
Rolf saw a shock of red hair, and smiled, relieved he wasn't caught with the gossip columnist. Ginny, squealing that she didn't know he'd be able to match it to the match, rushed over and hugged him. Ginny wore a t-shirt supporting the other team, Bulgaria; she liked that they were adversaries. Rita, desperate as a starved pigeon, knit her eyebrows together. No doubt, thought Rolf, as he listened to Ginny talk about the kids, Rita would have an article out tomorrow, hot off the presses: Rolf Scamander, grandson of the famed Newt Scamander, was having an affair with Harry Potter's wife. Or they all participated in some quirky open marriage!
"Brazil? I should've known that you'd follow your Spaniards and Portuguese men!" Ginny, the sports contributor, put her hand around his waist and invited him into the commentator's box. Rolf chuckled, turning around. He sported a Brazilian shirt with the logo "Light Thy Fire 2014". "Oooh, I want one! Albus is totally obsessed with Flores."
Rolf winked at her and scooted closer, letting her have a closer look at the autographed t-shirt.
"Get out! Are you serious? Albus, get down here!" Ginny shouted up at VIP Box 2 and waved her younger son down. Rita said the boy wasn't allowed, but Ginny said the match didn't start for two hours and ignored the gossip columnist.
"Hey, Mr. Scamander." Albus took the stadium steps two at a time to get to the commentator's box. Rolf gave him a high-five, for this passed as their usual greeting. Albus, decked out in green, the only one in the Potter family, it seemed, could barely contain himself. "What's up, Mum?"
"Scamander, turn into a walking advertisement for me." Ginny laughed when Rolf embodied a saluting statue.
She then asked him to turn around again. Rita muttered that Luna, wearing a light dress covered by the sixteen qualifying teams, looked ridiculous and should go through a proper inspection before Rolf allowed her to leave the house.
"Delightful as ever, Rita," said Rolf. She missed the sarcasm. He'd marked her as a friendly enemy the day he walked into the Daily Prophet; a junior corespondent to the gossip column referred to Rita and Rolf as frenemies.
Rolf turned his head and caught Albus's gawked expression; the boy's eyes bugged out of his head, even though he couldn't read the autograph, he zeroed in on the signature.
Albus squinted and licked a popsicle. "What's it say?"
"Translate, Scamander," said Ginny, giggling when Rolf said she gave really direct orders.
"'The flame shall never be extinguished. We'll light the way. We shall take what is ours … on faith, if you believe, you shall find your way - Gonçalo Flores, 2014. PS Name a beast after me, Senhor Beastie.'" Rolf smiled when Ginny spit out her water after grabbing her thermos.
"That's awesome! Senhor Beastie!" Ginny shared a laugh with Rolf and said she was nicking the nickname. Rolf offered Albus a piggy back ride back to the box; he jumped on that offer really quickly. "Behave, Albus. See you, Sehnor Beastie. Oh, come hang out with in our tent after the match. Luna said you're spending the week with your Brazilian friends."
"Yeah, Jorge and Jaime. They'd love to meet you." Rolf said goodbye and went back up to Box Two. He said hello to the rest of the Dumbledore's Army group and asked Harry if he was missing someone; Harry had a slightly panicked look on his face because he apparently hadn't heard Ginny earlier. "Mr. Potter, are you missing one of your pack?"
"Yes! Where have you been?" Harry said hello to Rolf and took his son back.
"Scamander, pssst, Scamander. It's Scamander!"
Rolf looked up, alert when some people called his name. Bill and Charlie sat behind them. This had been Rolf's greeting back in his Hogwarts heyday. Whilst he had been more popular than his grandfather, Rolf had still been somewhat of an oddball. Bill and Charlie drummed on the backs of seats in front of them. Rolf sat next to Luna and shook their hands and sandwiched himself between his wife and his Brazilian colleagues.
Rolf waved at the others. Charlie leaned forwards and locked Rolf in a light headlock. Harry and his friends laughed; Ron, another Weasley brother, shot beer through his nostrils and accidentally sprayed his wife and daughter.
"So, Scamander. Luna says you're quite the busy fellow." said Charlie, releasing Rolf and shaking Luna's hand. "Three years is too long a time. What're you doing? Who wants to work in London? London's boring."
Rolf hesitated, jarring his memory a little. How had Charlie delicately phrased this? "Breeding?"
Charlie snorted, pretending to fall asleep. Jorge and Jaime laughed. "Sorry. sorry, mate, you said something. Are we done with that, Luna? I want my man back.""
"Breaking up bromance," said Jorge with a thick accent. He gesticulated as the match started to get interesting.
"Yeah, er, thank you," said Charlie, telling Percy to shut up as the match started to get exciting. Flores scored a half hour into the match. Jorge and Jaime high-fives each other. Rolf had never been that interested in Quidditch, to be honest; he'd learned to fly a broomstick well to be amongst his beasts. "So, Rolf, want to find the Argentinian Fyrefly with me?"
"It's our week, Charlie," Rolf reminded him. He pointed out Jorge, Jaime, and Luna.
"Yeah, I know, the gang's back together. Thanks, Bill. Take this, Rolf. The drinking starteth now." Charlie slapped a beer into Rolf's open hand. "Luna?"
Luna, half-listening to him, said, "No, no thank you, I can't."
Charlie rolled his eyes and muttered about her being on the mummy track. He tapped the beer bottle with his wand, switching to another beverage. Charlie lived for peer pressure. He offered her an Olde Styx.
"Charlie, no Charlie." Luna sighed when Bulgaria scored and the supporters in the box stormed to their feet and cheered. Charlie offered her Giggle Water, insisting he wanted to see a more entertaining side of Luna Lovegood; it was in there somewhere. She took it, remaining seated, and sounded a little impatient. She flushed. "I can't."
Jorge asked her a hurried question in Portuguese. Whilst Luna didn't understood the language, she'd picked up on some keywords during her expedition and research time with these men. She nodded. Jorge and Jaime, elated, jumped to their feet even though went on in the match at the moment. Luna hugged them and kissed Jorge on the cheek.
"What?" demanded Charlie. He jabbed a finger at Rolf. "I don't speak Portuguese or Spanish like him. Not fair. Speak English."
Rolf caught Rita's eye and took Luna's hands as she sat down again. He wondered what the gossip columnist was scribbling with her Quick Quotes Quill down in the commentator's box.
"Pregnant," said Jaime, filling Charlie in.
Charlie nodded, saying he caught on belatedly. Charlie congratulated them. "Right, Luna, so when I asked you were done, the correct answer was no. Hell. no. Three, Scamander? What are you doing to me?"
"To you?" Luna turned her large eyes on Charlie. "Do you not remember three years ago in Deva? Remember that August?"
"When you were ready to kill him? Yeah. Good times." Charlie took the Giggle Water and changed it back to an Olde Styx before he took a swig. Charlie drummed on Rolf's shoulders and they watched Brazil take the lead again two hours into the match.
Rolf cupped his hands and shouted. "Diaz! Well done!"
Charlie grinned as a happy Jorge and a drunk Jaime, who might've been happier, broke into the Brazilian chant and their little celebratory dance, and pointed at the Bulgarian supporting Potters. Jaime sashayed over to Harry and nudged him to his feet; Jaime tried and failed to get him to join in the fun. Ron died laughing.
Rolf studied this display with interest. "Does he even know who that is?"
"No. I guarantee you he hasn't the slightest clue that's Harry Potter! Jaime's gone. Jaime! Oi, Jaime!" Charlie, roaring with laughter as Bill passed him another beer. Jaime came back like an obedient, wasted puppy caught in the act. Charlie conjured a bottled water for him. "No more drinking, mate."
"Por quê?" Asking why, Jaime, a little disappointed, slouched in his chair. Rolf asked him how many drinks he'd had in the last hour; Jaime shrugged this off like this was nothing. He clearly didn't know.
"Why? That's why, Flores. And, no, you're not related to the Chaser, Jaime. Jaime, no, you're not!" Charlie argued with his man half-heartedly as the Potters and Weasleys turned to enjoy this Charlie as babysitter spectacle. The Brazilians insulted him, and even though he didn't understand, Charlie got the gist of it. Charlie asked for a Butterbeer and thanked Harry. He handed it to Jaime. "Carry on, mate."
"Poor Jaime," said Luna, snuggling closer to Rolf.
"Poor Jaime? He's drunk. That's all that is." Rolf patted her arm and sighed when she predicted a Bulgaria win. "You think so?"
"Yeah." Luna snorted when Harry shouted that he had fifty Galleons on Bulgaria and Krum grabbing the Snitch.
"Let's play! One hundred Galleons says Harry's wrong and Silva grabs the Snitch right from underneath Krum's nose!" roared Charlie.
"I'll take that action!" Rolf raised his hand and slapped skin with Charlie again.
Bill, leaning over his daughter and her eager boyfriend, gave them a double thumbs-up. Luna muttered that they were idiots. Rolf nudged her, saying it was all in good fun. Rolf winced when Viktor Krum got beat with the Beater's bat. He clapped when Krum signaled he was all right to continue playing. He frowned, for he'd not expected the once retired Bulgarian Seeker to be made of stronger stuff.
Rolf regretted his choice. "That's my pocket money gone. Yep. Stupid move, Rolf."
"You don't say?" Luna, amused, shook her head when he asked her to front him half as Krum snatched the Snitch. All sides of the stadium rose collectively to their feet and cheered him on. "No, no, sir."
As people started to leave the match, Rolf and Charlie went to surrender their gold over to Harry. Harry accepted their defeat with a huge grin. Rolf turned out his pockets, for he came up a little short, took his money back, and offered him a capsule of frozen Ashwinder eggs instead.
"Take these and rob Scamander. Rob him blind," suggested Charlie. Harry took the Ashwinder eggs and stowed them in his robes.
"Keep them frozen. The Freezing Charm needs to be recast every three months. It's July, so that's October." Rolf got shooed away by Charlie.
Rolf went to go survey the damage the Dukuwaga and the Selma had caused during their bloodbath in the opening ceremony. Charlie said nobody wanted to hear his magi-zoology nonsense. Rolf had been angry that this careless oversight had taken place, but nobody listened.
"They didn't even have a magi-zoologist on site. Nor did they consult anyone, Luna!" Rolf grumbled as she steered him away, saying consolingly that the damage had been done. "Yeah, but … that's awful."
"Write about it, Mr. Scamander," she said gently, heading back the stands to grab her forgotten handbag. The Brazilians, defeated and shocked, finally decided to come down out of the box with Charlie Weasley.
"Not that anyone will read it," said Rita Skeeter scathingly as she snapped her crocodile bag shut.
Jorge and Jaime, slightly sobered now, surveyed her. Rita spoke to them like they were slow. As she'd already suffered for her cheek in the commentator's box already, Rolf waited patiently for her to make another move; it was inevitable because she never knew when to shut up. Luna allowed both of the Brazilians to take her by the arm and walked downstairs with them.
"When are you committing your deranged children into St. Mungo's? Your grandfather was right to implement breeding restrictions at the Ministry of Magic. Funny. I thought you lived by old Newt." Rita hissed quietly as she made to pass Rolf; she'd gotten insulted and chosen him as a weak link. Ginny, shocked, asked her to say that a bit louder. "Oh, he heard me."
"They're three, Rita," said Rolf. "Come on. Pick someone else."
"Your family should've been silenced by that Death Potion back in 1926." She giggled, looking for an ally where there was none. "Especially you and your grandfather. It's quick and painless, I hear. Problem solved."
Rolf stood rooted to the spot. Next moment, Rita's body was lifted off the ground. She crumpled at the foot of the staircases and Rolf looked around, lost, for he'd missed something. Luna, Ginny, Jorge, Jaime and Charlie all had their wands outstretched.
Jorge and Jaime both swore violently. Luna, smiling serenely at Rita's paralyzed body, walked on and started humming to herself as she headed down with the boys again. Rolf relaxed, amused by her. Luna was Luna. If this rubbed people the wrong way, that was their problem, and he wasn't going to apologize for his family. Ginny told Rolf's lot they were awesome before she hugged her elder brother and Disapparated.
Charlie gave a cry of a Chinese Fireball and broke Rolf's dazed expression. "You coming or what, Scamander? We're continuing this party in Dorset. I want a word with Newt Scamander."
Anything involving Newt interested Rolf. "Oh? About what?"
Rolf quickened his step and went to follow his friends. He wanted in on this story. Luna, laughing again, draped her arms around Jaime's and Jorge's necks. Rolf caught up with Charlie. They walked around aimlessly for about an hour reminiscing about Romania and the good olde days. Charlie, unable to help himself, said he wanted Rolf by his side next year.
"Scamander and Weasley back together again." Charlie pointed out a winged camel in the distance.
Luna Disapparated with their houseguests. Charlie hesitated before they Disapparated, though he lost his concentration when Rolf jokingly said he couldn't support a friendship that hadn't been taken officially to the next step. He had two kids with another one on the way and a wife. He had no time for this budding bromance nonsense.
Charlie gave a false, girly laugh reminiscent of Rolf's great aunt. "Oh, Scamander, you slay me."
Rolf conjured Dorset to mind and pictured his grandfather's friendly, wrinkled face. They vanished from the Patagonian Desert.