Care for Magical Creatures

You saw it again.

Before yourself.

Amalia in tears, ecstatic at the news.

"A witch!! Can you believe it, Zach?"

You'd been baffled by the prospect, unsure of whether it was real. You had only become certain of the situation's gravity when Amalia began jumping up and down, her hands on your shoulders, talking to you in a tone of voice that made your ears hurt and your heart ache.

"Magic! Mermaids!" She was corrected by the teacher currently struggling to fit into your childhood home's narrow doorway. "Not mermaids, okay... well, unicorns! Probably!"

The teacher confirmed, and Amalia squealed. You couldn't make out what she was saying, but you were sure it was exciting.

All you could focus on was the teacher's explanation to your parents.

"...a comprehensive eight-year curriculum... we can assure you she will be in safe hands."

Your father laughed. "Oh, please, the last thing we need is a guarantee of safety. I'm sure she'll be terrorizing that big castle'a yours in no time."

Your mother pinched his shoulder and butted in. "Thank you for reachin' out to us. We'll... I suppose we'll need tah consider it..."

The professor nodded. "It is wonderful to hear you even consider such a proposal. I know how tough a decision it is, to leave your child all alone in the hands of another for so long."

Such a comment made you aware of how small you felt. How all you could do was watch.

"I'll get ta explore the world, go on magical adventures-- jus' like your wizards and knights, right? Ah might get tah see DRAG'NS!" Amalia roared, turning on her heel and running laps around the living room.

She would get to go do all these things... while you stayed at home, alone, as always.

All you could think about was how badly you wanted to her to stay.

The noise of the room began to turn to silence. The scene before you began to blur.

"...borough..."

Your senses were brought to sharpness, the image faded--

You found yourself surrounded by grass and whispering students.

"Oceanborough!"

Professor Firethorn was as stern as ever, though you could hear his voice laced with a tinge of worry.

"Professor..?" Your voice was oddly weak. You were about to question why, but soon noticed something liquid trickling down the side of your head.

"Oceanborough, don't ever do that again! It is basic hippogriff etiquette-- you must remember..."

The professor's voice was drowned out by your classmates exchanging worries, rumors, shock and awe.

You forced yourself up onto your rear, your arms finding themselves on top of your scraped knees, your robe remaining on the ground and partly tattered.

"...let the hippogriff approach you first! Bow, be respectful!" Professor Firethorn proclaimed, exasperated. His face curdled into a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"I truly cannot understand how you could have made such a mistake, Zachary. I must assume it was intentional." The professor knelt down, hesitating to give you a hand before forcing you up himself.

"Perhaps I should have known better than to allow you to take this class so early," he sighed.

Right. It was all coming back to you. You shook your head. Care for magical creatures... hippogriff studies... "...'pologies, professor."

Firethorn's lip curled. He turned to face the rest of his students. "Let this be a lesson: no matter how tamed, a hippogriff remains dangerous. You must show it proper respect before any approach. Be humble, be gentle, and do not be boastful. Even barren confidence may be misinterpreted as a challenge, and such ego can land you in situations..."

...the professor stretched his hand towards your forehead, neglecting to look back at you...

"...such as this."

The crowd of third-years went silent...

"Class dismissed."

...and began to disband.

Professor Firethorn had held you back to tend to your forehead and lecture you on the dangers of pride in the presence of a hippogriff.

You'd heard it all before, a thousand times, and yet it stung all the same. Perhaps moreso, now that you were finally getting the hang of hippogriffs.

Almost no other magical creature was as difficult for you to handle. You'd been able to handle Amalia's phoenix more easily than these bastard mammals, these unholy crosses between a pygmy dinosaur and an outdated car. Why, you figured thestrals might be more amicable than them.

Not that you wanted to handle such creatures, at all. That was Amalia's job. That was something you weren't going to intrude on. That was something you didn't want any part of, you told yourself, and that she could keep to herself for all you cared. You were only thankful that Firethorn hadn't gone on about how good you were at all this, how 'prized' of a student you were. All that empty praise, you felt, that was better suited to your stupid sister.

Those were the thoughts that ran through your head now, anyways, that you were back in your dorm room.

You might have been in the common room, attempting to study near Veronica, had some idiot not decided to throw a party.

Maybe this was just a bad day. Something hadn't gone your way, and now you were taking it out on yourself.

Yeah, that must've been it. It was just a bad day. This would pass.

You gave an absentminded glance to the giant egg your sister had thrust upon you a mere month prior. It was... as silent as ever.

The thought to look up what it might be on-line nagged at you, but you knew that the Internet wouldn't have anything on it. 'Muggles' wouldn't know of these kinds of things. Besides, most people on-line were too busy making cartoon fansites or writing newspaper articles to care about real interesting things like this...

...it was too late to let yourself be this grumpy. The school grounds were empty, save for the occasional bird or beast, and the stars were beginning to shine. You didn't have anything on your plate, and you were exhausted from today's disappointing work.

With nothing better to do than nurse your fresh claw wound and try to unwind, you figured it wouldn't hurt to crack open a book or two before bed. You had a choice.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them. Homework for your least favorite class. That stupid mandatory elective. The whole reason that you got this wound in the first place. A compendium of magical critters...

...or one of your many books from home. Various books on modern history, ancient history, anything in-between. It wasn't just history, of course: you had various different subjects in there. A compendium of automobiles, various different manuals for what eventually became your favorite tinkering projects, a picture book detailing different constellations in the sky at any given time.

You gave the sky a glance. That constellation book was looking interesting. The stars were unbothered today: free of cloudy cover and in plain sight. Had you been able to afford a telescope, your choice of book would have been a no-brainer.

But Professor Firethorn was insistent that you study harder. That you at least give the book a 'good review.' It was hard not to see truth in his words, even if you hated recalling them.

"I believe you can do better than this. I have seen you do better than this. You have managed to deter a Porlock from its herd with nothing but your mannerisms. What is stopping you from meeting a hippogriff on its own terms?"

Certainly not the amount of studying you'd been doing.

You glared at Fantastic Beasts' cover, your anger... fleeting. Professor Firethorn just didn't know what else to offer you, and was trying to do his best to help you improve. It was more than your family had ever done, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt...

...as you let the textbook slip back into your briefcase, and let another stack of books from back home follow it in.

You gave the sky one more glance as you settled into bed, pulling the covers over your pyjamas, resting your head upon a pillow and watching a crow fly past the moon. Your attention slowly drifted to the pages in front of you, their thick binding now propped up upon your blanketed legs.

Today, you were going to read about the stars.