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.
The other students made fun of your way of speaking differently from theirs. Your strangeness also did not die out in the wizarding world, for you were considered an oddity because of your uncanny closeness with plants and creatures. Needless to say, the two classes in which these topics were studied and in which you excelled were not held in very high regard by the other students.
One boy, Christophe de La Montagne, had been particularly mean and had caused you further stigma.
It had been a normal day in class, where you were minding your own business and not speaking to anyone. However, you had made a friend. A friend which just so happened to be green, vegetal, and in your pocket.
You weren't exactly sure what it was, but you had decided you liked it. It seemed to be a cross between a muggle octopus and a carnivorous plant, but when you had seen it crawling up a tree, you had been fascinated. And when you held out your hand, the creature had crawled toward it and had latched onto you, but not in an unfriendly way. You had named it Gertrude.
Unfortunately, Gertrude did not seem to enjoy spending all that much time in your pocket during class, and it started wiggling noticeably. Noticeably enough that Christophe de La Montagne saw, which was very bad.
"Hé! What has the freak got in its pocket?"
"No, please, don't-"
But you had not drawn your wand fast enough, and suddenly you felt yourself freeze, recognizing the familiar effects of the full Body-Bind. Helpless, you watched as Christophe took Gertrude from your pocket.
"Mais c'est quoi ce monstre ? A monster in the pocket of the monster, it seems fitting!" He exclaimed to the general laughter of the students surrounding you. Only, Gertrude didn't seem to appreciate his handling, so it suddenly extended its tentacles in a threatening fashion. Christophe, no longer laughing, flung it toward you and Gertrude landed on your face, as you were unable to move. You felt searing and burning pain as some of the students jeered and others screamed around you in horror.
Everything was a bit of a blur after that. You remembered the concerned voices of the school's Herbology teacher and Healer over you in the Hospital wing, and then days on end of your face being wrapped up in bandages, potions being fed to you, and lots of pain. The most distinct memory you had of those few weeks was when you finally got a glimpse of your face once the bandages had been removed.
Your skin was covered in scar tissue in the shape of tentacles, spreading all over your forehead, cheeks, and nose. It was a dangerous purplish pink at the time, and although you knew it would fade to white with time, it would always be painfully visible. And it still was.
That was when you really started living as a recluse. You no longer spoke to anyone, not even your teachers, delving deep into a sullen isolation. You had decided other humans were not compatible with who you were, so you would find companionship and contentment in the creatures and plants you loved.
Thus, although your cabin was situated in the most isolated place possible in the Laurentiens in Quebec, you weren't lonely. Your home was practically a jungle on the inside, plants and vines and leaves all over the walls, ones that were a bit more dangerous growing in your magically extended basement. You enjoyed muggle plants too, so you had a few potted ones among the fray too. You were able to maintain the appropriate microclimates magically so that all your plants could thrive.
Of couse, you also had Gustave, your faithful Crup companion. You would have liked to have more creatures, but unfortunately the plants took up lots of your time, room, and didn't all love animals. Gustave had almost been strangled on numerous occasions by vines that didn't like that he took up so much of your attention.
Still, this was your life. Gustave and your plants made your happiness, and you were content to stay far away from mankind for the rest of your days. Which was why you were shocked to hear someone shouting as you walked in the darkness on Christmas Eve.
At first, you weren't sure if you were simply hallucinating it. After all, no one had ever wandered within twenty kilometers of where you lived, and even then, it was by mistake. The muggles who did so suddenly felt the urge to turn around in their tracks, thank to the clever security charms you had set up. However, when you glanced down to Gustave, you could see his fur was on end, and his slightly spiked tail (which you had not cut, despite the law) had stilled. Someone was definitely here, and it was no muggle.
You raised your wand ahead of you in a defensive stance. Most of the human interaction you had had so far in your life inclined you to think that this was necessary to not get stoned or attacked. With a quiet murmur of "Nox," you continued in the dark, not wanting to be seen.
As you proceeded steadily, your boots crunching in the snow, the shouts got louder and louder. Approaching, you eventually distinguished that it was a man's voice, and that it was extremely frantic. Once you were close enough, you hid behind a tree.
You weren't sure what to do. There was a shouting man you knew could only be a wizard on your land on Christmas Eve. There wasn't exactly a precedent for this. Steeling yourself, you thought that the first move you should make was to make sure you did not find yourself in a weaker position than him.
Taking a deep breath, you jumped from behind the tree and shouted "Expelliarmus! " in his direction, his wand flying out of his hand and landing in the snow in front of you. You quickly bent down to take it, as he spun around to face you.
With both the wands pointed at him now, you uttered clearly, "Qui êtes-vous? "
The man looked taken aback, but it didn't seem as though you were the cause of his panic, as he kept glancing down behind him. "Um... s'il-vous-plaît, je... I don't-she needs help, she's going to drown, please- anglais? " He let out imploringly, mumbling and tripping over his words.
You reiterated your question, this time in English so he would understand. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
He ignored your questions, continuing with his worried gestures. "Please, I've been trying to levitate her out for the last two hours, I've been tracking her for days, and I finally found her just today, but she fell in and now she's weak, of course when they're only a few weeks old they don't have as much stamina so she's running out of strength, but her hide-"
"Listen, sir," you cut off, wand still pointed at him. "You are not making any sense, and I want to know what you are doing here," you said, still very weary as the man seemed a bit wild with agitation, and refused to look you in the eye.
Instead of explaining with words, he simply gestured for you to approach. "Just-just, come here, and see," he broke off when he saw you were still eyeing him suspiciously, not moving an inch. "Please," he added imploringly, "her life is at stake."
You gazed at him steadily, but you weren't cruel. You were going to help now and demand explanations later. Slowly, with both wands still angled at the stranger in case he tried anything, you edged in the direction in which he pointed.
Muttering "Lumos," you immediately recognized where you were, and realized what he was talking about.
This was the well. You had created it when you first settled down in the area, but when you decided to build your cabin a bit farther away, it had been abandoned. You and Gustave knew to avoid it, lest you should fall into the deep pit, but you had never put up any indication it was there for strangers, seeing as there were none, and this seemed to have caused the drama playing out. Peering down into the well, you gasped as you saw what was inside, struggling to stay afloat.
"A Graphorn," you breathed in shock.
"Yes," the man responded, approaching you cautiously, his tone revealing slight surprise at your knowledge. "We have to help her, please, she's been in there for hours, and she's only eight weeks old, so-"
"-her hide is too resistant to magic for her to be levitated out by one spell alone," you completed, immediately setting into action. You were going to ignore the questions buzzing around in your head (who was this man, how he had found your land, why a baby Graphorn was lost in the Laurentiens, why all this was happening on Christmas Eve of all nights) because the life of this innocent creature was in danger.
Trusting this man for his concern for the beast, you handed him back his wand. Immediately understanding, he set himself on one side of the well, and you on the other. "On the count of three," he said. "One, two, three!"
"Wingardium Leviosa !"
"Wingardium Leviosa !"
The usually simple charm was arduous to execute, and despite the cold winter night, you felt sweat bead on your forehead. The hide of the baby Graphorn was resisting to your magic, repelling it, even thicker than an adult's to protect it from harm. You felt the magic pulsating through you and your wand toward it, and put all your concentration and efforts into saving this tiny creature. After what felt like hours of struggling, but was probably only a few minutes, you felt a slight tug on your wand arm, and realized the spell was working. The Graphorn was being lifted into the air.
Finally, you saw its tiny horns, not yet fully grown given its young age, emerge from the well, followed by its head, humped back, and four stout legs. Once it was out, the man immediately took the creature into his arms, cooing comforting words to it. Although you knew Graphorns to be agressive, this tiny one was too exhausted by hours of swimming for its life to do anything but warm up to the stranger and regain its strength.
Making a decision, given the late hour and the shivering baby creature, you walked toward the man, placing your tuque, mittens, and scarf on the Graphorn for it to keep warm. "Come on," yo said to him, and he raised his head from the small beast, "she needs rest and warmth. I can provide both quickly." You could tell the man seemed hesitant, and truth be told, so were you. This meant letting another person, a stranger no less, enter your home. But that Graphorn was still in danger of freezing to death if it didn't get close to a fire soon, and you weren't about to let it die.
"My home is only a few minutes away," you added as you started walking. He began to follow, catching up to you as you continued talking, "and I'm sure you know as well as I do that that Graphorn is in no way stable enough to Disapparate. So, let's go," you finished shortly.
You called out to Gustave for him to follow you. In the light of your wand, you saw him trot alongside you. To your astonishment, however, he would often brush affectionately against the stranger's ankles, and he was usually hostile to people or plants he wasn't familiar with. The man, despite still being focused on keeping the creature in his arms warm, spared a moment to smile down at your Crup affectionately.
You walked in silence, save for his tender hushed words of comfort toward the Graphorn, and you made good time, arriving at the cabin in less than five minutes. You quickly unlocked the door and entered, and the man walked inside.
For a moment, he raised his head and looked around, an astonished look on his face, at your jungle like home, a smile even creeping onto his face before the Graphorn let out a plaintive sound and he quickly reverted back to tending to her. In a quiet but direct voice, he asked for the materials he needed to tend to the baby creature, and thanks to your efficiency, she was in stable condition a few minutes later, nestled in an improvised nest next to Gustave, who watched protectively over her purplish grey sleeping form.
Finally, the stranger turned his attention to you, but you had your back to him. "Thank you," he mumbled.
You smiled, but didn't turn from the plant you were currently watering. "Don't mention it." Your hands then stilled, and the smile melted off your face. "But now you have to answer my questions," you said more coldly, moving into a shadowy area of the cabin where your face was masked by the dangling vines to be able to see his face without him seeing yours. "Who are you and what are you doing on my land?"
He gestured with his hands as he spoke, fidgeting slightly, but never attempted to get a glimpse of your face, seeming uncomfortable with eye contact. "My name," he explained, "is Newt Scamander. I'm a Magizoologist, and I never meant to trespass on your property, but I've been trying to find this Graphorn for three days now, and she led me here."
You frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would a Graphorn, a baby no less, be in Quebec?"
The man's tone hardened slightly in his response, although it was still just as quiet, and you felt the calm fury radiate off him. "Illegal traders. They use magical creatures as circus attractions for Muggles in regions far away from any magical government's control. They killed this one's mother," he said, gesturing to the sleeping Graphorn, "and she's known nothing but a cage her whole life. I've been trying to get to her for a while now, but when I finally found the awful place, she had escaped. She's just a baby, so she didn't know where to run, just that she had to. I finally found her here, but she had fallen in, and, well, you know the rest," he concluded.
"And the circus?" you asked.
"Dismantled," he smiled. "The creatures are safe," he added, looking fondly at the suitcase he had set down next to him and which you hadn't noticed until then. You glanced at it curiously, but didn't press further...for now.
"Alright, Mr. Scamander," you finally said. You had thought long and hard as he spoke, but his care for the creature appeared genuine, and his affection toward it seemed to rival your own toward your plants and Crup. "I have made the decision to trust you. You can stay here with the Graphorn until she recovers, and I'll help you tend to her, but once she is well, you must leave."
He nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I wouldn't stay, believe me, if it was possible to move her, but she needs-" he stopped talking when he heard a slight humming through the cabin. With a gasp, you glanced down at your pocket watch.
"Midnight," you breathed. "Merry Christmas," you let out, and just as you did, all the plants around you started humming and closing in, blocking out all light except for that of the moon, which had appeared in the sky as the snow stopped, creating a dome of natural light. Then, one by one, green and red lights started popping up, as your luminous plants contributed to the holiday's atmosphere.
This was your traditional celebration. You would sit down and relax in the light of your plants, loving the intimacy of it, cuddling Gustave. It was a very tender moment between yourself and your creatures, but oddly enough, the man now gazing around in joyful wonder didn't disturb that feeling.
He settled down next to you, but not close enough to make either of you uncomfortable. He removed his turquoise coat and draped it around himself as a blanket, while you whistled Gustave over to keep you warm. "Merry Christmas," he finally whispered back, and the two of you sat quietly for a long moment under the canopy of leaves, gazing at the moon and the red and green light illuminating your faces.
It was a strange situation, but for some reason, you didn't feel uncomfortable in the least with this Scamander man. It was the first time you enjoyed someone else's company, and it was a pleasant feeling.
"This place is incredible," he said quietly, breaking the silence after a long while, "It really is." He paused a moment before turning to you. "I should like to know who you are."
"I'm nobody," you responded simply. "Nobody knows I exist, and my existence changes no one's."
"You're not nobody to all that is here. These plants, they grow because you tend to them. And your Crup, you're definitely not nobody to him," he responded, not hesitating for a moment.
Whether it was because of these kind words or because his presence put you at ease, or maybe both, you finally responded, "Call me Y/N."
"Y/N," he repeated. "And when did you encounter a Vladyplint, Y/N?"
"A what?" you responded, having never heard the name.
In response, he motioned to your face, and you gasped as you realized your scars had been visible this whole time. You had completely forgotten because he hadn't reacted at all to your horrifying face. Now was the first time he brought attention to it, and it wasn't with the repulsed attitude you had grown accustomed to expect from people.
"A Vladypint," he continued, and he looked at your face slightly longer than the half seconds he had previously. This was a man who spent lots of time with creatures, you thought, if he avoided eye contact so assiduously. "The markings you have are fascinating, I've never seen anything like them, they're beautifully rare." He started to extend his hand as if toward your face, but then thought better of it and instead continued talking with a slight frown. "They're not usually agressive unless provoked," he said the sentence more like a question, as if hesitant to go on.
"It was a long time ago, back in school," you found yourself telling him, not too sure about how you trusted this man so much, just knowing that you did. "I found one-a Vladypint, you say? Well, I didn't know they were called that, I named mine Gertrude," and he cracked a smile upon hearing that. "It had latched onto me, and I think it liked me, but then there was this one boy and-I wasn't very popular in school, you see- he cursed me and took it away, there was nothing I could do. Then, he started manhandling Gertrude, which was not appreciated, so it started to react, and before it could hurt him, he threw it at my face, and, well," you concluded lamely. "Of course, it wasn't Gertrude's fault," you added quickly. "It was scared, it wasn't really dangerous, but it had to defend itself. It's not its fault I look like a monster."
"There's no such thing as monsters," Newt responded after a moment. "People only call monsters those whose beauty they struggle to understand. Your scars don't make you a monster, Y/N," he sais gently.
"That's easy for you to say," you responded harshly, unable to believe him after all the hate you had received for your scars. "You don't have any."
He raised his eyebrows at you. Calmly, he stood up and removed his waistcoat and started lifting his shirt. Shocked, you were about to say something to stop him when you saw his back, and you gasped.
It was covered in scars. Burn marks, claw marks, tooth marks, strange gashes you couldn't identify, his skin was covered in them, When he was sure you had seen, he quickly lowered his shirt again and turned back to you, looking at the floor.
"Don't assume, Y/N. That's exactly what the people who call us monsters do," he said quietly but powerfully. You didn't miss how he said 'us' and your heart softened slightly.
The two of you settled back down on the floor comfortably, occasionally talking about your lives in between bouts of companionable silence. You had only spent a few hours with this man, but never had you opened up to someone so much, and you felt it was the same for Newt.
Finally, you asked curiously because you couldn't bear not knowing anymore. "But you say you rescue and tend to all these creatures...where do you keep them? Thunderbirds are gigantic!"
Newt smiled slightly, before he stood up. "I can show you, if you'd like," he said, extending his hand for you to take. You grasped it, trusting him. He led you to his case, not letting go of your hand.
As he opened it and led you down, you had only one thought: you had never had a more wonderful Christmas.
And this was the first of many wonderful Christmases to come.