The Scamander ✧ Harry Potter Year 1

Chapter 14

Banjo rushed back into the safety of my robe sleeve, after hearing the click of the broad wooden door in a dark-lit corridor. Without the safety of Grandpa Newt for the first time on my solo adventure, my hands shook delicately with nerves and clutched the large handful of Butterbear's treats tighter than necessary. I slipped through a slight crack in the door. I have expressed moments of bravery in my childhood, but bravery has never come on its own, it has always been the luggage of loyalty. I have never been the Gryffindors I have met, who speak animatedly about their wonderous successes with little trifle about the danger. It took me coming to Hogwarts to realise the differences. The adventures in the suitcase were danger's imitation. I had my safety in Grandpa. 

We are never everything that encompasses who we are all the time. We can become more of what we choose. I chose to be more of the bravery I have seen in my friends and the bravery I saw in Grandpa Newt every day. 

So like my Gryffindor friends I sought adventure that day, but like my grandpa Newt I did so with a heavy suitcase of duty and care over all manners of mythical beasts. Some small, fluffy, and with cupid-drawn eyes, some snarling, overgrown, three-headed dogs...

The eyes greeted me sharply upon my entrance, the eyes attuned to malice, ready to eat the entrails of those who try and enter their guarded space. For many reasons, Grandpa Newt taught me never to rely on creatures' affinity with me. The unpredictability of animals is dangerous. Grandpa Newt had always been used to more strife when trying to attain a creature's affection, but that also made him a better carer. He always emphasised the importance of showing homage to the creature's social etiquette, and hierarchies,  regardless if they were friend or foe. 

So, my eyes never gazed too harshly into the creature's eyes, as their muscles twitched as they placed themselves up onto all fours. Their throats made a half-attempt to growl, felt by the vibrations under my feet. I saw glimpses of glistening yellow-tinged fangs in my peripheral as I kept my gaze tightly to their neck,  not threatening them with direct eye contact. The room gave a deathly echo to the movement of one of the thick paws that placed itself closer to me. The familiar feeling of dread settled in my stomach, and I fought the will of my back to crawl into a corner unnoticed. But it was too late for that. I placed one arm out, palm open with my bargaining chips in sight. Their paws thumped closer once again, and I struggled to hold back my flinch. The ghastly smell of their breath drew closer, and eventually, it was more than the stench, it was the heavy touch of a breath on my palm. They didn't seem bribed by the treats, continuing their inspection of my scent slowly until one head reached the tip of my nose. My breathing stopped, staring at the long, black scruff of their bulging necks. The dog's face paused before I felt a long rubbery, slimy tongue extending from length to length of my face, and tension in the room broke. 

A quiet chuckle escapes me as the other two heads seem to be invited by the first's approval of my presence. All three dogs' faces, rushing to lap kisses to my face and steal the treats placed in my hand. My hair rushed back with the gush of wind from the energetic tail that rushed back and forth. 

"Hey there good boys." A hand lightly touched the pine needle hair behind a floppy ear. The weight of the middle head immediately flattened onto my hand, leaning in my touch.

My eyes gazed over curiously at the trap door, lying insignificantly under the mountainous chains that wrapped and drooped off the dog's body. 

The dogs, sensitive beasts, immediately noticed where my attention had been drawn to, and at the first tentative step closer, the middle dog's nose lightly nudged me back into my position by the door. 

"Hey." The nose that pushed me back, did so again with a warning eye when I took another step forward. The dog's head shaking and sneezing. Next, a growl but a reassuring lick - as if attempting to scold and keep my affections. The next was the last olive branch of peace the dogs allowed. A larger growl, and larger head shake and sneeze. 

"Ok, ok," I raised my hands, "it's alright." I soaked my fingers in the bristles of their fur, watching their taut mouth and eyes relax once more. 

Perhaps adventure's glory awaited for me at the end of that trapdoor. but, my adventure would always begin and end with the animals. 

I would eventually brave that trap door when it was time. 

But my glory had already been won. Creatures' trust,  tentative and unlikely, will never be held in my uncaring hands.