Animaux Fantastiques - Theseus Scamander

Nous Avons Tous Besoin d'un Héros Courageux

VIANNE

Vianne waited in the courtyard for Harvey and Flanagan to arrive. The latter of whom was feeling more like his old self, no longer afraid of being discovered by the Aurors.

Theseus had returned to London on Ministry business. Agotha, the curious and observant of the three, had disappeared. According to Maddox, Agotha most probably found her own way out of the castle. Her speciality was reconnaissance and spycraft, so that revelation didn't surprise Vianne to hear. Although it did cause her some anxiety.

Vianne wondered what Agotha had gotten up to the two days after the dragon incident. Balcloicheil was large, chock full of secrets and things that ought not to be trifled with. It would be easier to get a misconstrued impression of those associated with it.

The sentinel that knelt on the hard ground, sword embedded in the earth, vibrating at a consistent interval, had a crack just below the beaver of the helmet.

Vianne had never seen the sentient statues take on damage permanently. Housing the Eleutheran Howlite required a taxing amount of magical energy, it would seem.

She took a moment to look over the baroque designs of the sentinel, clad in chiselled armour, and brandishing a sword. There were three jagged ridges on the pommel where a gem was affixed; as if the sword had been broken off something once it had been forged. Along the shaft, pitting formed in the shape of something purposeful. A wave or a coil, maybe a depiction of scales. There were also sharp lines bisecting it in parts in the shape of lightning.

Vianne couldn't make heads or tails of it. She wondered if the other sentinels' swords were designed the same. It was a poor attempt at adding decal, that much was certain.

A sudden chill swept through.

She rubbed her hands together to generate some heat and restore some colour to her digits. The weather was changing faster than it had the previous year. They'd soon have to dock the fortress for the winter.

A ways off, Harvey shouted her name, waving as he lugged a full bucket of venison. Flanagan ambled behind, his shorter legs moving faster to try and keep up.

The grumpy Goblin held himself with that air of assuredness he had when instructing a Charms class—a thing he lost when the Aurors roamed the halls.

Legally speaking, Flanagan shouldn't be allowed to hold such a serious position of instruction, especially if it meant instructing non-Goblins. The relationship between Wizards and Goblins was a fraught and ancient one. Vianne, and all the inhabitants of Balcloicheil, couldn't change that fact. But they could make it so that, within the sanctuary of the castle's walls, Flanagan, and any other Goblins who wished it, could practice their magic with the same entitlement as any other smart, magical creature.

"I've been out here half an hour," Vianne shouted across their divide.

"And I was in the middle of a class," Flanagan said monotonously, pulling his cloak out from under Harvey's boot. He frowned up at the young man, and Harvey mimed what could only be interpreted as an apology. "We all make sacrifices." He turned back to Vianne, inspecting her attire closely. "Did you wear anything with silver as I instructed?"

"Mmm," she nodded, lifting her puffy sleeve to reveal a colourful bangle made up of connected diamond shapes. There was an overarching story told with different coloured beads to fill in silhouettes of peoples and mountains and elements. It was the origin of magic, retold as Pictionary from the oral traditions of her mother's tribe. The silver was used as the skeletal framework of the bangle, together with copper and bronze. "Silver."

Flanagan arched a brow, saying dryly, "A ring could have done the trick just as well. There are other metals in this."

"Will that be a problem?" she looked over the bangle as if she knew to look for the same thing Flanagan did.