A few lovely fandom imagines

Newt Scamander

Here you go, my reindeer! A holly jolly holiday imagine for you! Unfortunately, it's a few days late, but one doesn't usually get kidnapped by one's cousins for yuletide merriment... so sorry about the delay. I love and appreciate all of you so much, and I'm ever so grateful to you for reading this book! Have a wonderful Christmas/Hanukkah/other celebration I don't want to reject but can't think of right now/break/just random day that I hope is incredible! Also, if you're doing/ did anything special, I'd love to hear about it in the comments :)

Humming to yourself quietly, you twirled around the small wooden cabin which was your home. You took a moment to glance out the window at the tumbling snowflakes, smiling to yourself at the image of them dancing around in the night sky, visible only because of the light projected from your home. You checked your pocket watch to see if you had time to go for a walk outside before midnight arrived, and with it, Christmas Day. You still had an hour and a half before the clock would strike twelve and you would have your traditional celebration, with no one but yourself. Well, no one human at least.

Grabbing your warmest cloak from the hook it rested on (having to tug a bit on the tendrils of the plant that curled around it) along with your favourite woolen scarf, your gloves, and a tuque, you pulled your wand out of your boot and finally turned back to your small couch. "Well," you asked Gustave, "are you coming with me or not? It's so beautiful outside, and it's not that  cold." The Crup looked at you, unimpressed, but just as you were sighing exasperatedly, he jumped gracefully from his spot and joined your side, trotting out the door ahead of you. Shaking your head fondly, you followed him, flicking your wand behind you to lock the door. Although that was probably unnecessary, since you had chosen to call home the most isolated place you could find.

You had always dreamed of living alone, far away from all the danger and persecution that came with staying in your hometown of Saint-Jérôme in the province of Quebec. Everyone there had from a small age accused you of witchcraft for your oddity, but it turns out they had been right. You were definitely shunned from your household when a woman in a blue cloak had arrived on your doorstep with a letter saying that you were to attend wizarding school for your gift.

You had left with her under a shower of stones thrown at your head from the villagers.

The lady, whose way of speaking French was much different from your own, explained that all the strange things you had been able to do from a young age meant that you had magic, and that this gift could be honed at an academy of witchcraft. She explained your three options to you.

The first was to got to Ilvermorny, the American wizarding school established in Massachussetts. That would be the choice closest in distance to where you were from, seeing as the other two were in Europe.

The second choice was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, located in Scotland and where most of the Canadian wizards from other provinces went.

The third was l'Académie de Magie Beauxbatôns, situated somewhere in the Pyrénées, in France.

Given the fact that you had never spoken a word of English in your life, the latter was your choice. And you had spent seven years of hell there.

Not that there was anything wrong with the school itself. You learned how to master your magic and how to hone it into a tool for everyday tasks, which was wonderful for a muggleborn like yourself. You also learned English, which proved to be very useful.

But the problem was you were the only student from across the Atlantic.

You had never been very good at making friends as a child, given your general strangeness compared to the other children. But once you learned about the existence of others like yourself from the woman who came to find you, Madame Vézina, your future Charms teacher at Beauxbâtons, you thought maybe that would change. You were wrong.