Keep an Eye
Regulus could see only hazy images of the Dark Lord walking, pacing, circling like a vulture... of his bone-white wand and long, narrow hands with the thick, dirty fingernails... The Dark Lord's voice was high and low at exactly the same time, sort of a voice within a voice, rasping and terrifying as he spoke... words that Regulus couldn't understand, words that chilled him to the core... Kneeling before Voldemort was his father, the man who had never been perfect, no, but had been the only father that Regulus had... The man who had taught him the most rudimentary magic, who had tied his shoes when he was young, who had carried him up on his shoulders at the Quidditch World Cup, who always smelled faintly of firewhiskey... The man who conjured birds that flew about over Regulus's crib when he was tiny, who sang him lullabies about dragons and told him stories of werewolves and Greek gods... And there was the Dark Lord, with his pale face and well kept hair and his sneer... always a sneer with Voldemort... and there he was, looking down at Orion Black with a most disapproving stare... Speaking in low tones, naming his sins one by one, a parade of failed attempts... and then Voldemort lowered his wand, pressing the tip of it into the shaggy black hair on the back of Orion Black's head...
"NO!"
Regulus moved so quickly that he lost his balance and flipped right out of the bed, smashing his forehead against the nightstand so badly that he drew blood. He lay on the floor a moment, simpering, clutching his forehead as the red streamed over his fingers.
Crack!
"Master is injured, Master Regulus must let Kreacher help... come with Kreacher, Kreacher will make it all better now, come with Kreacher, Master Regulus..." the old house elf took Regulus by the wrist and pulled him along to the bathroom down the hall as Regulus cried. "Master must not cry," Kreacher whispered gently, making Regulus sit on the edge of the bathtub while Kreacher filled a small basin with water with the crack of his fingers and dipped a cloth into it, bringing the cloth to Regulus's cheeks. The water felt cool against Regulus's skin and he hiccuped as Kreacher carefully blotted away his tears and used magic to heal the cut on his forehead. "Quiet now, Master Regulus, before Mistress wakens and shouts at Master."
Regulus nodded. They'd been through this many times already in the month since Orion Black had been killed. Regulus would have the dream he'd just done and Kreacher would come and quiet him but Regulus's tears would get the best of him and he'd end up crying loudly and Walburga would come running down the hallway, angry, shouting for Regulus to get a hold on himself - "The Dark Lord feeds off your fears!" she had hissed just the last time, "You must suppress them!"
But it was very, very hard - especially when he was asleep - not to feel the horrible panic that rose up inside of him when he imagined the way Orion Black had fallen forward as the green jet of light burst through his body, lighting him up like a bloody holiday tree. He'd just... buckled... and that was it. Gone. No goodbye. Just gone. And he could still see Sirius's face - the look of desperation and anguish that had flooded his brother's features when he had somehow - miraculously - overthrown the power of the Dark Lord, to fling himself down over Orion Black's wide chest.
Kreacher continued to sweep the cloth over Regulus's face.
"I miss him, Kreacher," Regulus whispered, barely daring to say the words at all.
Kreacher whispered back, "Kreacher knows, Master Regulus, Kreacher understands. Missing one's father is very sad, Master, very sad."
Regulus nodded, though he wasn't sure if he'd meant Orion or Sirius.
Then a thought occurred to him, "Did you have a mum and dad once, Kreacher?"
"Everyone is having a mum and dad, Master Regulus, yes, even Kreacher once."
"Where are they?"
"Dead," Kreacher said simply.
"Kreacher," Regulus said gently. "I'm really sorry."
"Kreacher was not knowing them well," he answered. "House Elf families are not kept together at the Agency. They is separated as soon as they is being born, Master Regulus, and so then the mother and father is not missing their young when they are sold away. House Elf families never stay together, Master Regulus, and so Kreacher is never knowing his family. Kreacher's family is here, Master Regulus. Kreacher's family is you."
There was a hamburger shop on the south side of London with a checkered floor and shiny red leather booth seats lining the walls. Albus Dumbledore stood out with his purple robes as he pushed his way through the front door. The woman at the counter stared, chewing a wad of gum as she watched him walk over to a booth in the corner, where a man was sitting, wearing a long coat and a scarf on, despite the warmth outside.
The woman walked over carrying a chocolate malt milkshake, which she slid before the man with the scarf and put a menu down before the old man. "We're out of the monte cristo," she said tiredly, and turned away to the kitchens.
Dumbledore looked carefully at the menu. "A shame; there is nothing like a monte cristo at a diner." He mused a moment, then put the menu down and looked at Newt Scamander, his briefcase beside him. Newt glanced at the woman behind the counter, making sure she wasn't looking and he reached down, unlatched the briefcase and handed the milkshake down. Dumbledore craned his neck to see and spotted Remus Lupin's face peering back. "Hello Mr. Lupin," he said quietly, stealing a glance behind himself at the woman, too, "And how is your summer going so far?"
"Very good sir!" Remus answered, and he poured the chocolate malt into another cup from within the suitcase, handing Newt back the empty diner glass. "Cheers," he added, holding up the cup he'd just filled with chocolate malt and he winked and ducked back into the case, saying, "Watch out Niffler! You know Mr. Scamander said you can't go out there." And Newt quickly closed the briefcase as the woman came over from across the diner.
She looked surprised at the empty glass, "Did you... need a refill?" she asked, confused.
"Yes please," Newt answered.
She picked up the glass, then turned to Dumbledore. "And for you?"
He held up the menu, "Perhaps a dish of lemon sherbet," he answered.
She nodded and disappeared, still marvelling at the empty glass in her hand.
Dumbledore looked at Newt. "The boy looks very happy."
Newt nodded, "He, uh, he does. Yes." He fiddled with the straw wrapper on the table before him, his eyes flickering across the room as a couple of teenage boys came in, laughing to one another as they slugged each other's arms and joked about. Newt's eyes swung to Dumbledore's. "I have a concern, Mr. Dumbledore. A very...grave... one."
"Yes, Mr. Scamander?" he asked.
Newt looked into Dumbledore's eyes. "Your friend Mr. Flamel... he, uh, he's safe, isn't he?"
"Yes," Dumbledore's eyebrows narrowed. "To my knowledge."
"And his... his, uh, possessions are all where they ought to be?"
Dumbledore considered this a moment. "If we are speaking of... the stone... then yes," his voice was nearly a whisper. "Why do you ask?"
Newt glanced at the teenagers at the far end of the diner, where they were laughing amongst each other. His eyes turned back to Dumbledore's. "I have recently come into the possession of a stolen Charkorais egg," he said quietly, meaningfully. "A fertile Charkorais egg. Left in a bed of spearmint."
Dumbledore looked alarmed.
"I have successfully collected the egg, secured it, and intend to, uh, to hatch and... and to raise the Charkorais myself, safe here in my, uh, briefcase --" he paused and looked up as the waitress returned with the refilled glass of chocolate malt and a cup of lemon sherbet. "Thank you," he said and she nodded and turned away. Newt opened a new straw and put it in the cup before him carefully, "-- but, Mr. Dumbledore, I think that we can, uh, both agree that - that the Chakorais did not come upon that bed of spearmint by coincidence."
Dumbledore nodded and lifted a spoon to his sherbet. "Certainly not by coincidence, I am sure..."
"She doesn't belong in England at all, Albus. She belongs in much, much warmer climates. India... Egypt... Israel... depending on the breed." Newt sipped the chocolate malt slowly, then, feeling a bit dizzy from brain freeze, he paused and stared up at Dumbledore. "I've sent owls to all the major Charkorais h-habitats whose grounds men I know," he said, "And there is one from Cairo that has recently - uh - lost an egg, though their egg was quite small when it was misplaced, they thought, uh, perhaps that one of the other creatures in the habitat had eaten it and that it was no more; further more their, uh, their Charkorais bird has never once laid a fertile egg... However... the egg was cornflower blue... with purple markings... and it was too soon then to - to uh, to know if the silver stripes would appear at the full moon," Newt said, "I believe, Mr. Dumbledore, sir, that egg is the very egg which I now possess."
"I have no doubt, Mr. Scamander, you've done your research very well."
"That old man believed it was alien, the egg. Called the, uh, the pole-lice, you see. Said that, uh, his door... his door had been broken down. Someone -- they - they knew about the spearmint back there, they - they planted that egg there on purpose. But why - why not keep it with them? Someone of prominence, Albus. Someone - someone who might be caught with the egg. Nasty intentions, clearly, there is no inno-innocuous reasons to be carrying about an - uh - an egg of this sort... none."
Dumbledore ate slowly.
"I recommend you tell your friend, uh, Mr. - Mr. Flamel to watch his possession very closely," murmured Newt, "As I've thwarted an attempt at replicating it, and his is the only one known to exist."
"Yes..." Dumbledore nodded slowly, "Yes, you're right, I shall send an owl to Mr. Flamel the moment I return to my room in Hogsmeade." He stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Mr. Scamander lowered his voice, "Cairo, Mr. Dumbledore." He tilted his head emphatically.
"Yes..." Dumbledore murmured, "I fear I have an idea of what you may be thinking. Mr. Scamander, and if it is so, then we shall have to be extra careful whom we trust... and watch the polls."
Newt stared into Dumbledore's eyes. "Keep an eye, Mr. Dumbledore, sir," he said lowly. "Keep an eye."
Inside the briefcase, Remus sat beside the incubator across two chairs, legs propped up, sipping his chocolate malt, a book resting upon his knees, his toes wrapped in thick socks, wearing his Moony Christmas sweater James had given him back at holiday. Veigler was helping Tina Scamander at feeding the creatures all about the laboratory (there were over 250 different ones in the briefcase alone!).
A bowtruckle climbed from a tree branch hanging out of his habitat and onto Remus's head and started pushing about in his hair, trying to find woodlice among his curls. Rey reached up and waved his palm at it 'til it had crawled back up on the tree branch, squeaking angrily.
"Well go on then!" Remus said to it, "I haven't got any ruddy lice, I'm not a tree!"
The bowtruckle stuck it's tongue out.
Suddenly there was a crackling from behind him and Remus turned about. The bowtruckle even looked up with interest... and the Niffler came running, swirling it's way up the stool and sat on Remus's feet, her clawed feet up against the glass of the incubator... Several other beasts peeked that way, too, including a grindylow in a tank and a great horned toad... A large crack had rent its way across the side of the egg.
"PROFESSOR VEIGLER!" cried Remus, "MRS. SCAMANDER!" He sat up, knocking the poor Niffler a little as he moved his legs from the seat opposite him. His book fell to the floor. "I THINK IT'S HATCHING!!!" he called out, "COME QUICKLY!"
Tina came running, "Nooo, no, it musn't hatch yet! It can't hatch until the full moon, it'll starve!" She ran for the egg, her eyes wide.
The full moon was a week away yet...
Remus watched as Tina ran to the incubator and started fiddling with the orange lightbulb nervously.
"Perhaps we could spellotape it," Remus suggested hopefully.
Veigler shook his head, "I'm afraid that wouldn't do..."
Tina panicked as the egg cracked again and a third time, too, and Remus's eyes widened. He'd been excited at first, but now it felt rather anxious, knowing that if the baby Charkorais came out now he probably wouldn't live...
A fourth crack.
"Stay in, stay in, little guy, please," Remus whispered and the Niffler climbed onto Rey's lap and trembled against him. Remus hugged the Niffler as he stared.
Veigler put a hand on Remus's shoulder.
And then with a pop, the little egg shattered completely.
They all stood, staring at the aquarium.
Tina's jaw had dropped.
Remus stared. "Is that... normal?" he asked.
"I doubt it," whispered Veigler.
Before them sat not one but two Charkorais birds. Twins, born of one egg. One of them looked up at Remus, the top of the eggshell on it's little silver head like a curved hat. The other began to peep loudly.
Tina Scamander whispered, "Well I'll be."