Written for the HSWW: Assignments & Challenges
Task: Dueling, Write about someone looking out for someone else.
Task One: Newt Scamander's Suitcase, "Home is where the heart is." / Undetectable Extendable Charm.
Task Two (or still Task One?): Creatures: Bowtruckle (genre) friendship, Flesh Eating Slug, (Location) Forbidden Forest, Mooncalf (the fic takes place at night), Crup (emotion) happiness, Salamander Newt Scamander (character).
Words: 3000
Chasing Dragons
Charlie knew what he wanted out of life, but he had no way of getting there. Rolf Scamander sat in the armchair and slowly grasped the idea that the world lay at his feet. When parents said their son of their daughter could do anything, they merely said the words and did not count for this, that, or the other, yet this wasn't true of Rolf. He learned stuff at his grandfather's knee. He walked the walk and talked the talk at sixteen, almost seventeen, and old Newt Scamander treated him like a student.
Rolf, an overweight kid, enjoyed school because it felt like home. Of course, he had a lot of things in the fire, as Professor Sprout phrased it. She tried to make him confident, which is probably why she made him Head Boy, although Rolf didn't waste his time nagging rule breakers. He enjoyed the Hufflepuff common room because it wrapped him in warmth and reminded him of honeycomb.
People genuinely liked him because Rolf stayed out of the way most of the time. Good bees, good, hardworking bees, liked to be happy, buzzing bees, as his grandfather put it, or the bees died off. Never mind the fact about the queen bee killing them off in wintertime; they dropped like flies, for it didn't really fit the analogy.
An English boy born in New York, Rolf had an opportunity to be an exchange student at the American school of magic. He could stay at Hogwarts, too, but Rolf already knew his path. After one of his career planning sessions with Professor Sprout, she submitted three applications to different dragon research reservations. They hadn't heard back except to be denied by Shanghai. Bored, Rolf jumped out of his chair, shoved his rough draft for an essay aside, and climbed out of the barrels to end up on his butt. He landed right beside Hogwarts kitchens.
Charlie, still dressed in his Quidditch things after a rainy practice, bumped into him. He ran a hand through his damp red hair and shooed a Chaser away. Rolf, a quiet guy, often wondered why Charlie stuck to him like a Permanent Sticking Charm. But they'd been inseparable since Charlie saved Rolf from being locked in a bathroom stall in second year. Charlie had loads of friends; he called Rolf a brother and dubbed him by his surname.
"Scamander, I'm surprised at you," said Charlie, imitating a sharp tone reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. Rolf, scratching the pear in the portrait, almost stopped and aborted his midnight snacking. Charlie stood sentry. "Don't tell them about the American house-elf thing."
Rolf went in and asked for honey ice cream. House-elves. altogether too happy to serve, zoomed towards him as he adjusted his Hufflepuff scarf. A few minutes later, armed with ice cream and chocolate chips, Rolf climbed back into the common room with Charlie.
"You are the epitome of happy, fat kid, Pudgy Badger." Charlie, not even trying to hide the fact he wasn't supposed to be here, went to warm his hands by the fire as a mixture of sleet and snow rained down outside.
Rolf went back to his essay. Charlie pulled out his homework, too, but his heart wasn't in it. "What if it doesn't work and we're stuck here? And we get rejection letters?"
"First off, you're a Scamander. Not gonna happen." Shaking his head as though the suggestion sounded ridiculous, Charlie helped himself to handful of chocolate chips and plopped in an oversized armchair beside Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks nodded off, but Charlie nudged her. "Wake up. I need backup. Tell Scamander to stop doing this, Tonks."
Tonks brushed her dark hair out of her eyes. She studied Rolf, not awake. "Stop. Stealing is bad for badgers, especially the fat, hoarding ones. You're Head Boy. Not stocking up for winter."
"Not that. But that was awesome." Laughing along with Rolf, Charlie wrung Tonks's hand, not even saying anything when she accidentally knocked a bottle of ink on a open text. Rolf, feigning anger, hugged the sweets bag to his chest and shook his head when Tonks raised her eyebrows. Charlie rested his chin on his hand as Rolf devoured the ice cream. "You feel better?"
"I'm cold." Rolf went upstairs to grab a blanket and came back down with a thick Minsk blanket from one of his grandfather's travels. It smelled faintly of tobacco, peppermint, and something else Rolf couldn't put his finger on at the moment. Instead of wearing his robes, he'd changed into a jumper and jeans.
"You're cold? You scarfed ice cream!" Tonks gestured at the empty bowl on the table and closed her ruined textbook. "I'm done."
"Professor Kettleburn has asked me to stop asking questions," said Rolf, a grin spreading across his face as he finished an essay on the effects of the Draught of Living Death.
"That's because you know more than him." Charlie picked up Tonks's battered and splattered copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Carefully, he siphoned some of the ink off it with a simple spell. "You were raised by the man who wrote this."
"Yeah, well," said Rolf, snuggling in his chair under the blanket. He debated falling asleep right here and skipping out on tomorrow's Hogsmeade visit to catch up on homework. He yawned and did a double take when he spotted a tawny owl rapping on the window. "Tilly?"
Charlie flew to the window and undid the latch, apologizing to the kid he nudged. He returned with the weathered owl sitting on his shoulder. Matilda was unnaturally friendly to anyone who helped her, and Charlie, like Rolf, possessed a natural knack towards some creatures. He handed the letter to Rolf, shaking it, and waved at Matilda as she flew up to the Owlery.
"It's from Grandpa. He's here!" All tiredness gone or at least forgotten, Rolf stowed his chocolate stash in his jumper and sneaked back into the kitchens to grab a little something. He asked Tonks if she wanted to come along, too, and he didn't stay long when she said no. Charlie, edging out after him, waved Tonks's book in the air. "Sometimes I hate this book."
"Why?" After pulling on a cloak, Charlie conjured a couple lanterns and headed towards the Forbidden Forest.
"Grandpa wrote better stuff." Rolf shrugged. He liked Fantastic Beasts, especially when he was a kid, but Newt actually got his feet wet and debated theory with fledging magi-zoologists and naturalists. Rolf pointed at himself. "And I'm the kid of the old guy."
They found Rolf's grandpa on the edge of the forest. Dressed in traveling clothes, Newt knelt onto the ground like a crab. He got nothing and ambled deeper into the forest after getting to his feet and holding a lantern aloft. White haired and slower than he was back in the day, whatever this meant for a really old man, Newt rubbed his fingers in the earth talked to things nobody else could see. He wore an old Hufflepuff scarf over his Klein blue winter coat and trousers.
"I haven't got any apples," said Newt, stuffing his gnarled hands in his pockets. He ducked when someone or something threw apple cores at him. A little off in the distance, a carcass stripped itself of flesh. "That's rude. See if I invite you along again."
Charlie, lost, shared a look with Rolf. "He's weird."
"No." Rolf, deciding he'd have a little fun, stepped out from behind a tree and enveloped his grandfather in an almost rib cracking hug. Newt, cursing, accidentally knocked over his lantern and quickly stamped out a fire before things got out of hand. A Demiguise materialized on Newt's back, a silvery apelike creature with baleful eyes. Rolf whooped, excited, and high-fived the Demiguise; it stole one of Rolf's muffins. "Hey, Sam."
Newt, frowning slightly, rolled his eyes when the wrapper fell on the ground. "You're stealing food?"
Rolf, grinning, offered him two individually wrapped muffins.
"You have your virtues," sighed Newt, helping himself to one.
"Hey, Mr. Scamander," said Charlie, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rolf, picking up the trash, guessed his grandfather hadn't eaten because Newt finished off the blueberry one before moving to other one.
"Hello. Who's this?" Newt bit into the chocolate muffin and waved it in Charlie's direction.
"Charlie. Charlie Weasley." Introducing himself, Charlie held out his hand and grinned when Newt shook it. Thestrals shimmered. A baby one had a splinted leg. "You did that? You bandaged the leg?"
"Newt, I don't see a blood trail," said Professor Dumbledore conversationally.
The Professor held his lit wand in his hand. He stopped, beaming when he saw the boys. Rolf, embarrassed, not wanting to get caught off grounds after hours, stared at his feet and muttered good night. The headmaster, however, merely wiped sleet off his half-moon spectacles and replaced them on his face.
"Yeah, I'm going …" Rolf's voice trailed off as he pointed towards the castle.
"Mr. Weasley. Mr. Scamander," said Professor Dumbledore cheerfully, apparently not at all bothered to see them here. He placed a hand on Newt's shoulder. "Your grandfather's agreed to pick up the Care of Magical Creatures post next month."
"Stay, Scamander," said Charlie, spelling it out to Rolf. Newt and Charlie laughed when Rolf, still uncertain, went back to contemplating his trainers.
"Home is where the heart is, Little Newt." Newt actually slipped casually into the nickname Rolf's grandma used. It was lucky it was dark and Rolf was dark-skinned, for this hid traces of his embarrassment. Newt, squatting to check out his wandwork, bandaged the threstral's injury, tossing the bloody rags aside carelessly and waving Rolf over. "What is this?"
Rolf shrugged.
"All right. Back to basics," said Newt, resting a hand on his back. He smiled at Charlie and conjured his pipe and his thermos with a Heating Charm cast upon it. Making himself at home, Newt stuck the pipe between his teeth. The thermos unscrewed itself and filled the cap in midair. "A wizard, or a witch, or a Muggle stumbles in with an injury …"
Rolf opened his grandpa's rucksack with an Undetectable Extendable Charm cast upon it and found a teakettle and a tobacco stash. He found some peppermint bark made with quality chocolate and nibbled on it.
He added his unhelpful bit, thinking he ought to say something. "Or a No-Maj."
"Tomato, tomato," said Newt indifferently. He stopped, chuckling to himself, stumbling upon his little joke. "That's American."
"Spending too much time in the States," commented Rolf.
"Yeah, well…" Newt shrugged this off without consequence because he took whatever assignments he wished in his retirement to enjoy chasing life. "What're you gonna do?"
"A who?" Charlie, confused, leaned against a tree and pointed out he got lost.
"A Muggle. It's an Americanism," explained Newt, and puffing away merrily. Professor Dumbledore beamed, yet Newt fished for his answer, a little impatient. "If I don't break my ankle …?"
Rolf snapped his fingers, cottoning on. "You sprain it!"
"There we go. Knew we'd get there eventually," said Newt, patiently and quietly. They bandaged the threstral's leg in silence and worked together as a team. Rolf sipped Newt's coffee and coughed when his eyes watered.
"God. What's in that?" Rolf, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper, expected black coffee and got a surprise. He handed the thermos back.
"A little of Ogden's Firewhisky," chuckled Newt, winking at Charlie as he screwed the lid back on and cleaned up their mess with a non-verbal spell. They started back towards the castle. Rolf carried the Demiguise, invisible again, like a small child, and Newt went back to a conversation he'd started earlier with the headmaster. He pointed at Rolf. "This is my boy. He's not … he learned to read whilst in Nairobi whilst I studied Erumpents. Professor Kettleburn? The reason he gets angry and flustered is because Little Newt runs circles around him."
"Grandpa," whispered Rolf, embarrassed again when Sam nicked his chocolate chips. "It really … it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't … it doesn't matter?" Newt, aghast, not believing this, turned from Rolf, to Dumbledore and back again. They stopped by the large oak doors. Rolf knew his grandpa wanted the best for him, and he, Rolf, found this touching, but he wasn't the Newt Scamander.
"Rolf deserves a spot, Professor," said Charlie, sitting on the steps and taking the bag Sam offered him. "Bad monkey."
"Not a monkey," corrected Newt automatically, still grumbling like kids traipsed onto his neatly kept garden. He parked his butt next to Charlie and went to bat for his grandson. "Dumbledore, he doesn't belong on a waiting list! Shanghai says no?"
"Newt, there is no cause to worry," said Dumbledore. He ignored Newt when he claimed he didn't worry. "The deadline is December fifteenth. There's time."
"Yeah, well, if Wei Zhang doesn't reply to my owl, we're challenging the response." Newt, cold-natured and agitated, hugged himself.
"Come inside, Newton." Dumbledore offered him a hand.
"You applied?" Newt nudged Charlie as he got to his feet. Charlie shrugged like it was nothing when it was obviously everything. Newt grunted, understanding his answer though he said not a word. "No response?"
"No, Mr. Scamander, not yet," said Charlie sadly.
"I didn't get in with dragons till the war," said Newt, not really elaborating on his involvement with the First World War and his work with the Ukrainian breed. "It backfired."
"Why?" Charlie asked.
"Because they only listened to me," said Newt nonchalantly, checking his rucksack. "The tribunal turned into this whole … thing. I got off."
"Cool!" Charlie danced on his feet again. He held up his hand, waiting for a high five. "Don't leave me hanging, Grandpa."
"You're a critter person. I like you," said Newt, smiling toothily and awkwardly giving him a high five like he touched Charlie's hand at a barrier. He didn't bother correcting him; Rolf guessed he rather liked the casually slipped in grandpa bit. "Have you ever come face to face with Diricawls, Charlie?"
"Nope," said Charlie, petting Sam.
"Ever been to New York?" Newt raised an eyebrow when Charlie said nope, and this tickled the old magi-zoologist. "Would you like to? See New York City and Diricawl chicks, I mean?"
Charlie, acting as though Christmas came early, searched the old man's face. He appealed to the Demiguise and Rolf for answers. Sam, tuckered out from a long day, cuddled next to him. "Is he yanking my wand, Scamander?"
"I can hear you, boy, I'm not deaf." Newt cupped his hand around his ear. Dumbledore hummed serenely to himself.
"Scamander?" Charlie waited.
"The apartment's nice. Sam sleeps in this cubby in the wall," mumbled Rolf, shuffling his feet and getting ready to be turned down. They were friends in school, good friends, and Charlie stuck with him through thick and thin, but this might be different beyond the walls of Hogwarts Castle. "You don't have to if you don't want to …"
"I think he wants to," said Newt.
Dumbledore, promising Newt they'd pick this up in the morning, said good night before he headed up to his office. Newt didn't know where to sleep, for he hadn't planned on staying overnight, yet he refused to leave the grounds without the right answer. Charlie and Rolf walked with him into the Hufflepuff common room. It was empty except for Tonks, who did a double take when Newt introduced himself; she waited for the punchline. Charlie, remembering the book, waited for Newt to settle in Rolf's chair before he asked for an autograph.
"It's yours?" Newt reached in his coat and put on spectacles. Charlie shook his head and gave Tonks's first name; Tonks glared daggers at him. Newt sighed, shaking his head sadly. "That's unfortunate."
"Tell me about it," grumbled Tonks. She smiled, and Newt sighed heavily, getting comfortable as he dipped his quill in ink.
"I like that Newt has friends," said Newt, writing a message. Rolf pointed at Charlie and jerked his finger at the exit. Tonks, saying she couldn't breathe when the Demiguise mirrored Rolf imperiously, cried she laughed so hard. Tonks fell as she went upstairs.
"Good night, Grandpa, Scamander … Monkey." Charlie added the last part as an afterthought and saluted the Demiguise.
"Sam," supplied Rolf.
"Monkey." Charlie left. Minutes later, he poked his head back inside, wedged in the barrel. "Scamander?"
"Yeah, Charlie?" Rolf took Tonks's chair.
"Two things. Can I borrow your notes on elemental Transfiguration? McGonagall insists I get high marks or she'll pull my letter of recommendation." Charlie caught Rolf's Advanced Transfiguration textbook. "I owe you."
"Night," said Rolf.
Charlie showed him two fingers. "Number two. You and me? We've got this Heartstrings Sanctuary thing in the bag. I've got your back. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, Charlie." Rolf returned his grandfather's infectious smile when Charlie finally shot down the barrel. "What?"
"People like that," said Newt, setting Tonks's book aside and drumming his fingers on it. "They don't come around too often. If I had had a Charlie whenever I was here, Newton, things could have gone drastically different."
"Mr. Mwangi." Rolf got to his feet and set Sam down. "Grandma says he's your kindred spirit …he's your person."
Newt took off his spectacles and set them on top of the book.
"Night, Grandpa." Rolf walked over and hugged him around the neck. "I love you."
"I love you, too," said Newt, squeezing his hand. They would see what tomorrow would bring tomorrow, though they probably wouldn't get anywhere until at least Monday. "Don't worry."
"Nope. Not me." Rolf went up bed. As he turned the corner, he saw his grandfather put on his spectacles and open Tonks's book. Rolf, thinking the old man forgot something, imagined him scribbling a old line about worrying on a random page. Sam, making himself at home, cuddled next to Newt and drifted off to sleep.