"What pet do you want, Robbie?" Daddy asked.
We stood in the building that housed the assortment of magical pets. I scanned the range of owls, dogs, cats, toads, and what not. It was hard to read the cursive words as I squinted desperately seeking for some meaning in the language. Cursive wasn't a strong suit but when it came to Arabic writing, it just came naturally to me being able to read it. I shifted my head toward Daddy.
"A cat." I said.
"A kneazle cat?" Daddy asked.
"If it's a maine coon cat," I replied. "yes."
"Why not a owl?"
"Getting a kneazle cat is planting roots and having someone take care of the rats around me."
"A owl hunts and eats rats. Owls are naturally faster at delivering messages. But a cat can't do that."
"Daddy, argumentatively, can cats magically find who they are intended to send a letter to?"
"Never heard of a cat doing that."
"Or a dog?"
"Never heard of a dog doing that, either. And think of the poor cat. Alas, if you choose a cat and need to send a owl then you can use Hogwarts's owls."
"That is a amazing journey come to think of it."
"Don't even do it. Think of the poor cat!"
"I am, I am." I laughed and giggled and snickered and cackled. "I am finding it funny for a grumpy cat to willingly cross the ocean, paddling against the waves, avoiding the sharks, boats, and whales, with the letter in tact." I looked toward the kneazle cats that had either missing ears, missing limbs, or a missing tail--- "I call dibs on this one!"
I picked up one of the kneazles that were black with piercing blue eyes, a layered mane around the neck with pointy ears, stubby tail, and a back that was raised up quite stiff. It almost reminded me of a small lion that had been bred with the domesticated cat quite successfully. The cat's eyes stared back at me quite passively and I stared back feeling a hundred times more elated than I had before. The cat reminded me of cats that were commonly found in Indonesia that I had been fortunate to live alongside in my childhood until my parents moved to Baghdad. I flung the cat along my shoulder and turned toward daddy.
"What are you going to call it?"
The cat mewed and I took another look back at the eyes of the cat to spot a distinctive scar along the right side of the face that spread about standing out in such a eye that was quite sore, painful, and horrifying. I grinned at the scar on the cat's face then snapped my fingers as the name came to mind. If the cat could wag their tail then I sure it would be waving from side to side.
"Scarface!" I announced. "Scarface!"
Daddy took out some galleons and handed them to the person beside him then was handed a slip of paper and a pen.
"I will get the paperwork." Daddy said.
////////////////////////////////////////////
I spent my first evening organizing my Hogwarts belongings tucking them into the closet with Scarface perched on my shoulder. Once, the closet was a place that I saw a packed place full of junk I would never use or see again, once that was a very long time ago. My closet that I had lost was empty -- unlike this, it was partially empty with coat hangars, boxes of winter gear and what not -- back in the land of the dreary. The box of Hogwarts gear was labeled appropriately then set about with the lid on top. I took out the card that Gerald had given me then set it on the counter, contemplating; some young Witch or Wizard might need a referral. I should keep it.
The next few evenings were spent jotting down on a notebook becoming acquainted to writing on paper and my parents helped me become familiar to the art of cursive so I could easily read the textbooks. It was long and difficult and irritating as I was slowly beginning to earn the ability to read in cursive in between meal times.
I heard my parents amused laughter once they came back from the hatchery a few times but after a time, they stopped doing that and grew concerned while Scarface remained perched on my shoulder rubbing along my cheek purring away the discomfort of writing then erasing on the same parchment of paper repeatedly.
/////////////////////////
"Robert,"
It was my fourth day in the Wizarding World when dad came to my side so I looked up toward him.
"Yes, dad?"
Dad grinned then took something out from behind his back.
"I have rescued a new egg from a neglectful owner with a couple of aurors aid!" Dad announced, cheerfully, then his shoulders loosened. "Would you like to carry the egg with me?"
"I don't trust myself with eggs, dad." I said. "I drop them. Remember the last time you gave me the task of holding them?"
"The bag broke, Robert." Dad said quite exasperated. "You will have to trust yourself when you get to Hogwarts."
"Maybe not now?" I shook my hands as I leaned back into the chair. "I haven't seen the dragon hatchery and you know how I am like with magical places I haven't been to."
Dad grimaced.
"I have forgotten about that."
I looked around the room with my elbow leaned against the chair.
"Where is daddy?" I looked up toward dad.
Dad's grimace was replaced by a grin.
"John is working as a Auror chasing down a con artist wizard." Dad replied.
"That sounds fun." I noted.
Dad flashed a smile, widely, from ear to ear.
"Very." I never sounded him that gleeful before. And a part of me wondered if he had been a auror before.
We went to the back yard as dad held the large egg in his arms humming to himself for several paces. I jogged my way forward with a laugh and hopped along the boulders cackling like a maniac having fun. It had been so long since I got to be out and about that it felt refreshing. I saw a tree alongside a giant boulder then leaped and crashed on to the top of the uneven boulder. I climbed up the tall tree with little difficulty using the branches and the stumps as my guide up until I made it to the top bypassing the bird nests. I looked on spotting the area ahead of us with as much glee that belonged to adventerous child ready to conquer the world and ride a dragon or fight in a army lead by Aslan or Aragorn.
I heard dad's call then proceeded to hop my way down the tree until I was out then slid down the boulder. I ran after him, happily, and energetic. Dad was old but he kept up his pace ahead of me. I laughed making my way ahead of him as dad continued to hum then shifted my attention toward a space between two boulders with remains of wood. Uh oh. I tried to stop but my legs were moving too fast to respond. I braced myself to hit the wall but instead I walked right inside and tripped once losing my step. I crashed to my hands then got up to my feet dusting the dirt off my outfit.
The dragon hatchery was full of eggs in nests that ranged in size to accommodate for them. I saw a elf darting back and forth among the scenery stirring the eggs in a specific direction under rows of light that were purposely aimed for their direction. I stare in awe at the eggs decorating the area. It was almost as if I were standing in a warehouse. I looked up and spotted a board that read: DRAGONS ARE PRIMARY FOUND IN AUSTRALIA, ARIZONA, GENERALLY IN THE WILDERNESS, COUNTRY AREAS SUCH AS ROMANIA, AND OTHER UNSPECIFIC LOCATIONS. THEY ARE MONARCHS OF THE SKY.
I saw a egg shaking from side to side close by.
"Dad, egg is hatching!" I announced.
"I don't hear a chirp from this egg." Dad placed the side of his ear along the egg that he were holding.
"Master, you have arrived in time!" A house elf beamed across from me. "The egg rescued from Mistress Kalico is preparing to hatch!"
I knelt down alongside the egg peering over it watching as cracks formed. It was fascinating watching the egg crack at the seams.
"Wonderful!" Dad announced.
I heard a squeak be emitted from the egg.
"Isn't it adorable, Robert?" Dad asked as he placed the new egg into a waiting nest.
I stared in intrigue.
"It's amazing." I said, softly.
I watched a large piece of the egg fall off and the strange curve area of the nose stand out. It was the same feature that I had seen from hatchlings on youtube on my spare time in the last decade. I held my hands on my knees watching as the little dragon shook the egg, slowly, struggling to escape. I must have been seated there for hours listening to the chirping. Finally, the egg fell apart and the dragon came rolling down. I caught the dragon in my hand then smiled.
"Gotchya, little fella."
The little dragon squeaked then puffed out smoke at me so I giggled.
"Matilda, get the basket ready for little Saphira." Dad said. "I will send the owl for the Romianian sanctuary for Dragons that she has hatched."
Dad got up to his feet then went to the desk that waited for him and I stared upon the strange creature. I reached my hand out for the creature, carefully but slowly, with my hand trembling with faint memories of horror movies crossing my mind most importantly the scene where Saphira burned Eragon's hand or how Blue the Velociraptor ate the detective's hand or how xenomorph's attacked people mercilessly. The dragon sniffed my hand then climbed on to it, curled around my small wrist, then rested their head with some squeaks and fell fast asleep.
I relaxed with a smile and my worries about the fantasy creatures of the Wizarding World began to fade as minutes ticked by. I rubbed along the very exposed spine of the baby dragon then leaned against the nest and rested my side against the edge. I curled the tail, winding up and down, as though it were a elastic play toy that felt quite funny. Dad came back with a basket then came to my side and knelt down to my level. I looked up toward him with a smile then carefully slid the hatchling into the basket. The hatchling squeaked landing on to their back then hopped up and squeaked looking back at me.
"I will be back in a hour," Dad said. "Can you find your way back?"
"Sure, I can." I replied with a smile.
"Matilda," Dad turned toward the house elf. "If Robert fails to make it to the house in three hours, please pop him to the house."
Matilda nodded then Dad left the hatchery with the basket in hand.
"So, Matilda. . ." I said. "Do you move the eggs every so often?"
"Yes." Matilda replied. "The masters informed me they got me for the hatchery and the care of the house---they are busy people."
"Oh, they were hardly busy in the Muggle World." I replied. fondly. "Must have been a jarring change for them to have magic and exist as the Dark Lord did."
"The masters held muggleborns in the sanctuary in eggs when the mean and rude Death Eaters were on their way searching for the children." Matilda replied then frowned as she looked back in a way that I had seen from older people looking back at wars or dark blotches of history. History that I found myself thankful not being part of but saddened that it happened at all. "Saved thousands this way smuggling them to America, Cuba, and other places of sanctuary that aren't found on Earth. Places that people in desperation and fear can go to save their lives in a dark time."
"How many eggs need to be moved this hour?"
"Twenty-three."
"How about I help you?"
"No, no, no. You would have another twenty-three eggs to move after that. Stimulating the movements of a mother or father dragon takes a lot of energy and time. They do it every hour of the day and helping me would require your continued presence into the night."
"How long do you sleep?"
"Four hours. How about you?"
"Normally six to eight hours depending what time I went to bed." I replied then tilted my head. "Do Elves sleep that long?"
"House elves do." Matilda replied. "It's natural for us but not for muggles, wizards, or muggleborns."
"Then let me help you for most of the day and you have some rest while I do the work." I offered.
"Are you sure about that?" Matilda asked.
"I like to work, Matilda." I replied. "Best thing I can do. It's pure hell having nothing to do."
Matilda took out a set of glasses then handed them to me including a parchment.
"Refer to this paper before moving the eggs. It will tell you exactly how to notice the eggs are ready for shifting."
"Alright. I got it."
Matilda smiled then snapped her fingers as I slipped on the glasses and looked toward the paper. Busy busy busy, busy as a bee! WORKING! With no virus fear! I started to dance at the reminder, swinging my arms back and forth, in a flossing fashion and swung my knees back and forth along to my glee. After that was done with a lot of laughter and excitement to work in a new normal that was safer than the one I had been forced into, I went about shifting the eggs with great care and happiness that I hadn't felt for a long time. It was a far precious memory.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Dear Ministry of Magic:
I am unhappy to say that Harry Potter is being oppressed, abused, and used as a servant for the Dursleys. He lives in a cupboard---
I erased the letter that I had been practicing on for the last week then sighed putting my hands on the letter setting my chin on my hands. I was outside of the house with my wand hoisted over the letter that was laid over a book under the cool weather of the night. Practice, practice, practice. That was proving to be handy as I was beginning to regain the ability to write clearly but instead it was all coming out in times new roman as the practice wore on. It felt nice to be outside in the open hearing the birds, seeing the darkening sky above my head, viewing constellations, and feeling generally peaceful and content.
I wanted to break the biggest rule of them all that had drastic consequences but Harry would be safe with another Wizarding family. A far more kinder one that he would consider family and the gift of Love bestowed upon him by his mother would still apply. I pouted over the argument that I had once shared with my girlfriend Britney. She had a fair point but . . . If she sacrificed herself and that carried heavy blood magic, then wouldn't that mean her bloodline would protect Harry? It was a gamble going on my girlfriend's argument. That the only thing that mattered to her sacrifice was that Harry was with people that he called family.
Prime Directive said I couldn't interfere with another civilization, not to play Allah, not to intervene in what was not my business. But this was a boy's life. A entire childhood that was well guided with good moments to seed in times for the future in which he needed a patronus. He needed all those good memories in the war against Voldemort. He was going to make more of them over the summer if I started the ball rolling. I recalled vividly how my girlfriend raved and ranted about Harry Potter, "Poor Harry! Being used as a servant! He hardly deserved that! What was she thinking? It's almost as if she has a kink for bad homes for Wizards."
I wondered to myself if all the great Wizards in the Wizarding World suffered a bad childhood in order to become great because it was starting to seem that way with what faint knowledge I had left over about certain characters, Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, Sirius Black, and that poor child with a mother who was a Muggle Supremacist condemning Wizards. Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom!
I almost forgot about those two. My girlfriend was especially peeved about that. It was the hook and the line sinker of divorcing canon that lead to the climatic moment in which she made the vow never to watch another Fantastic Beasts film. It was the rise of Voldemort all over again and we weren't willing to sit for two hours in a movie theater watching history repeat itself instead of watching the adventures of a magical zoologist collect Fantastic Beasts.
"Robbie, dinner is ready!" Daddy called.
I lifted my head up then picked up the equipment off the grass and got up to my feet.
"Coming, Daddy!"
I looked down at the paper then made the decision and smiled.
The Dursleys were going to have a check by the Magical Child Protection Service tomorrow morning.
I didn't have a rule about not making Harry's life better after all. So I wasn't breaking any Prime Directive or any rules.
Rule 10; Stay uninvolved with Harry's destiny.