- Text Size +
God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs


Regulus snuck out of the dormitory early in the morning. It was barely five o’clock and the common room was silent. He still peered over the railing to be sure it was empty - he didn’t need to be running into Mulciber. But everyone remaining in the Slytherin house was still asleep in their beds and Regulus had access to the door without anyone seeing. He grinned with pleasure and snuck down the stairs, tugging on his thick wool coat and hugging his Care of Magical Creatures sketchbook to his chest as he slipped out the door of the common room and into the corridor.

He ran down the hall, excited for his plans. He wanted to what sort of creatures Professor Kettleburn kept hanging about the school in his stables. The thought of visiting the stables had excited Regulus for sometime now - he’d been itching to go inside and see everything there was to see in there (he pictured unicorns and dragons and erumpets and loads of other creatures), and now he was finally going to do it.

Regulus ran across the snow-coated grounds toward the stables, which stood far off across the grounds. He slipped and slid over the sloping path that led out to them, leaving footprints in the fresh coat of white that had been produced by the night, laughing as he practically skiied the last few feet, nearly slamming into the door of the stables. His face was flushed from the cold as he pulled his wand from the knot at the back of his head - a trick he’d seen Sirius doing from across the Great Hall, which he’d come to start copying him at - and he pressed the tip of it to the knob of the door. “Alohamora,” he announced and the door clicked open and his eyes twinkled as he slipped inside and pushed the door shut behind him.

It was warm in the stables and he took off his Slytherin scarf and the thick wool coat and laid them over a stack of hay bales by the door, tucked his wand back in the knot of his hair, and carried his sketchbook along as he made his way down a long corridor. It was much larger inside than the stables looked like they might be from outside, which made Regulus excited for what might be inside. He passed a messy desk with hopelessly tall stacks of papers in the tray, an open medical kit in the middle that had been recently rifled through, bandaids and little silver tools spilling out of it. There was no sign of Kettleburn, though, so Regulus snuck along.

The corridor was lined with tanks and cages and he peered into a tank with what appeared to be oval ice cubes with glowing red worms in them labelled Ashwinder Eggs and he ducked along and found a tank that appeared empty at first, then upon squinting he noticed there were tiny flecks moving about in there and the label Microscopic Grindylows - “Sea Monkeys” spellotaped to the glass. A bit further and there was an actual grindylow, and ‘round a corner there was a cage of bowtruckles and a small cardboard box that was chirruping through breathing holes - a great read stamp read CAUTION: LIVE STOCK across the side of the box. Regulus wondered what was within it.

Finally, he stepped into another room and there were pens lining the walls with various creatures inside them. Most of the pens contained thestrals, the funny black horses that looked like skeletons with strange, bat-like wings. He stared at them in horror and awe at the same time. Cautiously, he approached one of the pens that contained one and he reached up a palm to pet it’s muzzle and it leaned its head over the door of the pen to let him, seeming to study him with just as much interest as he had in it.

Suddenly, the sound of a throat clearing behind him made Regulus freeze. He stood very still a moment and there were footsteps - footsteps with an odd sort of shuffling gait - and he winced. He was about to get a detention for breaking into the stables, he knew it, and he turned slowly around, expecting to see a very angry Professor Kettleburn, but instead finding a wizard he had never met before, yet recognized instantly.

Regulus Black’s mouth went quite dry.

Standing before him was Newt Scamander.

Newt’s eyes flickered over Regulus, as though he were sneaking peeks at him, “What’re you - you doing in the stables?” he demanded.

Regulus said, “I just wanted to see the creatures.”

Newt hesitated. He was holding a thick leather journal in one hand and his wand sort of lazily in the other, as though he’d drawn it but thought twice about raising it. “You aren’t, uh, intending to - to hurt them?”

“No,” Regulus shook his head.

“St-steal them?”

Regulus shook his head again.

“Mock them? Scare them? Tease them?”

“Do students do that?”

“Oh they did - they did all the time when I was in Hogwarts,” Newt muttered, “Great sport it was to - to come out here and - and scare the grindylows and plimpies and to - to poke at the supposedly empty air where the thestrals were and uh, to uh to make them whinney.” His eyes were sad and he slipped the wand back into his sleeve and turned away.

Regulus stared after Newt Scamander, his hand falling away from the thestral’s muzzle. He nervously stumbled forward after Newt. “Mr. Scamander… what’re you doing here?”

“Research,” Newt answered and he ducked away into another room.

“Research?” Regulus scurried to follow and he found himself in a great big room full of books that stretched on and on for what seemed like miles. It was as large, if not larger, than the library inside the castle. His eyes widened, “What… what is all this?”

“Caregiver guides, mostly,” muttered Newt, “Old field journals from - from various magizoologists that have - have donated their notes… All the information you could, uh, ever - ever want on any magical creature in the world is - is probably in this room some place.” He disappeared between a few shelves a way down.

Regulus stared around the room. “This is incredible.” He stepped up to the nearest shelf and found books on augameys and ashwinders and astrobugs and various other creatures that started with A. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books in awe, then took one out on bowtruckles and flipped the pages slowly, peering at the notes and pictures.

There came a series of great thumping sounds - books falling to the floor and the sound of Newt Scamander apologizing frantically, “So - so sorry, so sorry, sorry, so sorry…”

Regulus jammed the bowtruckle book back in and followed the sound of Newt’s voice to the aisle he was in, peering ‘round to see a book dusting itself off and climbing back on the shelf, Newt staring at it in surprise. He looked up at Regulus, “I always forget he’s - he’s here.”

Regulus stared in disbelief as the book on the shelf flapped it’s own covers and leaned against the book beside him, as though he were taking a nap. “That’s a -- a creature?”

“Yes. A Bookie.” Newt nodded, then bent and collected the books he’d dropped.

Regulus bent forward to help and he paused as he collected a couple of the books into his elbow. They were both on werewolves. He looked up at Newt. “You’re studying werewolves?”

Newt hesitated, “A bit, yes.” Then he took the two tomes out of Regulus’s arms and added them to his own pile. Newt awkwardly stood there before Regulus a moment, then turned and went off down the aisle toward a table, where Regulus saw a lantern and loads of book already stacked about, leaves of parchment on the table before the books, absolute loads of notes and scribbles written across the page in disarray, no apparent strategy to their haphazard placement on the page. Newt added his new books to the pile then paused, feeling Regulus’s eyes on him again. “What?” he asked.

Regulus swallowed back his nerves - “I’m… a big… big fan. Of you. Of your work.”

Newt’s eyes stared down at the parchment.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you, Mr. Scamander,” Regulus added.

A tremulously awkward smirk danced over Newt Scamander’s wide mouth and he reached up to scratch his neck a moment, then glanced sideways at Regulus. “A bit of a, uh, a let down, I’m sure.”

“A let down?” Regulus asked.

Newt leaned forward suddenly, grabbing the cover of the nearest book and pulling it open. “So sorry. You can, uh, you can go look at the creatures like you wanted to. Sorry I interrupted you. I just th-though you were, uh, teasing the thestrals, see.”

Regulus stood there, though, too much in awe of Newt himself to draw away to go back to the thestrals.

Newt paused in flipping through the book, feeling Regulus’s eyes on him. Being watched always made Newt feel very uncomfortable and he gnawed his lip a moment, then he glanced at Regulus. “You - uh - you’re Sirius Black’s brother. You’re Regulus. Regulus Black. Aren’t you?”

Regulus nodded, awed hat Newt Scamander knew who he was. “How did you --”

“Sirius told me a bit about you,” Newt answered.

“You know my brother?” Regulus asked.

Newt nodded. “Fairly well.” He paused then said, “You don’t - don’t seem like he said.”

Regulus answered, “I reckon I’m probably not a thing like he said at all. At least not anymore. People change, you know.”

Newt’s eyes struggled to meet Regulus’s for a moment, then he glanced away to the left of his face again and his teeth rested on his lower lip as he thought for a moment. Finally he said, “Yes, they do. That’s… certain.”

Regulus asked, “Are you studying werewolves because of… anything to do with… my brother?” He meant Remus, but he didn’t dare to ask anymore pointblank than he’d just done, afraid that Newt might not know of Remus Lupin’s condition.

Newt Scamander studied Regulus a moment, his eyes narrowed, wondering if Regulus knew, too. He finally said, “Nothing to do with your brother, no.”

“Okay.” Regulus watched again as Newt turned back to his book.

After a moment, Newt Scamander looked up again. “Your - your brother’s alright and so are - are things to do with him.”

Regulus nodded, “Very good. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Don’t you, you know how - how your own brother is doing? Don’t you check up?”

“No,” Regulus replied. “My brother hates me.”

Newt put the book down, “I doubt that.”

“No, he does.” Regulus answered, “And I don’t blame him. I’m sort of horrible.”

Newt’s lips twitched, “Are you?”

“Very, yes.” He paused, then, “Mr. Scamander, do you like House Elves?”

“Very much.”

“Me, too.” Regulus crept closer, “I have a brilliant one, his name is Kreacher. He’s old. How old do House Elves live to be?”

“Very old,” Newt said, “I, uh, I’ve met one once who, uh, who was nearly two hundred.”

“I dunno how old Kreacher is but he’s all warty and wrinkled.”

“Yes, they - they get that way,” Newt nodded. “Does he - he have pains? Arthritis at all?”

“I dunno, he doesn’t tell me.”

Newt ran a hand over the books, “Well, if he does, just whip up some standard arthritis potion but instead of tumeric root you - you use a bit of yucca and - and it works better for the house elves.” He blinked down at the table his books were on, his eyelids fluttering much faster than normal people blinked and he glanced at Regulus. “The, uh, the recipe should be in your - your potions book.”

“Thank you,” Regulus said.

Newt nodded. Then, “Yucca roots does… does quite a deal of good things for house elves, really. Settles their, uh, their stomachs too if they have belly aches. Make - make a tea of it… helps right away. Not that - that many people care to bother with making it.” He looked sad, then, “But it helps.”

Regulus smiled. “I would. If Kreacher needed it, I would.”

“Good man,” Newt replied. He paused then, and glanced at Regulus for a moment again, then away. He said, “I had a brother.”

Regulus looked surprised.

“Everyone liked him. Nobody really liked me much. In school, I mean. Or really anywhere. He was very popular. Athletic. Very good at Quidditch. He was a - a Seeker. You know, very good. Very popular for it. He - he was a war hero. Loads of people thought marvelously of him. Less so of me. I was the - the brother that never quite lived up to - to it.” Newt paused.

Regulus laughed, “You? But you’re famous.”

Newt glanced over, “My point is that we didn’t get along. He - he thought I was annoying and, uh, I can be… and I, I always wanted to be like him but - I never, uh, I never could. There were things holding me back. Things that, uh, wanted to change who I was. That fed my - my jealousy, rather than just letting me, me be honest with, uh, with him.”

Regulus saw Newt’s eyes flicker to the wand going through his hair and he flushed.

“Everyday I wish I’d, uh, I’d told him that I was proud to be his, uh, his brother.” Newt looked up and for a brief second their eyes met before he looked away again. “Just a… a bit of advice, probably a smidge over the line, but -- the truth, really.” He turned back to his books, “Now I’ve got to study these, it’s very important.”

Regulus nodded, “Alright. Well. It was… nice meeting you Mr. Scamander.” He paused, then, “Are you staying long? At the castle?”

“A bit.”

Regulus hesitated, then, “Would you sign my book… if… if I bump into you again?”

Newt flushed about the cheeks. “I suppose.”

“Do you… come out here often?”

“Everyday.”

“I’ll come tomorrow.”

“Alright,” said Newt.




GOD REST YE MERRY HIPPOGRIFFS - LET NOTHIIING YOU DISMAAAAAAAYYY---” Sirius’s voice bellowed out, echoing off the little shops of downtown Godric’s Hollow. The whole square was lit up in it’s Christmas best - tiny twinkling lights in every shop, windows with candles and doors with wreaths. Vendors pushed little carts, selling warm nuts and candied plums and popcorn with caramel dripping off the kernels, served up in large paper cones with red stripes. Remus laughed as Sirius jumped up on James’s back and flung his arm ‘round Remus’s neck from his newfound elevation and James nearly toppled into Peter before getting a good grip on Sirius’s legs and catching his balance. James carried him piggy-back style, Sirius grabbing onto the collar of his coat and yelling, “Giddyap Prongsie! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO AAAAAAALLLLL AND TO ALLLLLLL A GOOD NIGHTTTTTT!” He waved regally about.

People looked after the Marauders as they went by, a group of rowdy, too-loud-for-their-own-good teenage boys who were clearly up to something.

That something had been doing the finishing touches of Christmas shopping. At least on James and Peter’s parts. Sirius and Remus were just tagging along and offering their opinions on the stuff they were about to buy. For instance, Sirius had talked James out of buying a perfectly horrid sweater for his mum’s gift and encouraged the purchase of a lovely jewelry box instead. Peter, too, had been about to buy his mum a set of measuring cups (“what? She likes cooking and I like it when she cooks so it makes sense) and he’d ended up finding a very nice necklace for her instead.

“Oi Padfoot - reckon I ought to do your shopping in there?” James asked, waving to a pet shop in the corner with a big sign announcing they had a new stock of flea collars.

“I haven’t got fleas!” Sirius announced, though he was literally scratching his head as he said it.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

Sirius slid off James’s back as they approached the center square of the town and he stared up in awe at the giant Christmas tree that stood, looming into the sky, big colourful bulbs twisting their way over the branches, all the way to the very top, where there sat a big silver shining star that seeme to gleam and twinkle. Sirius stood at the foot of the tree, staring up at it with a great big grin upon his face. “Bloody brilliant; would you look at that!” Sirius’s face glowed nearly as bright as the tree as the other three came to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him and they all stared up at the green branches and coloured lights. Sirius leaned into Remus’s shoulder and Remus put his arm ‘round Sirius as they stood there, Peter patting his mittened hands together to stay warm.

James looked down into the bags he carried, at the box of cherry-filled chocolate cauldrons and the book he’d got for Charlus - a thick adventure book about outerspace and martians that was sure to be just the sort of muggle mishmosh that Charlus filled his bookshelves with. He bought the same things every year since he was old enough to pick a present for his dad. Every year it was a challenge to wrap the cauldrons in the strangest way possible because Charlus knew he would be getting them and doing things like individually wrapping each piece of chocolate was the only way to keep it interesting. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be needing to buy them next year… and it made his stomach a little sick to think of it. He drew a deep breath, his eyes searching until they found one of the angel-shaped ornaments on the thing and he found himself saying a sort of prayer.

Let him be alright.

Christmas was, after all, the time for miracles.

James looked up at the tree and when Sirius looked over he saw one tear crawling its way across James’s cheek, reflecting the colours of the lights. He reached up silently and swept it off his face with his finger and James glanced at Sirius with a grimace of a smile, and they both turned back to the tree as Sirius flung his arms about the four of them, tugging them inward so that Remus sort of staggered into him as he put his arm behind James’s back to grip onto Peter’s jumper with a closed fist.

“Happy Christmas, you idiots,” Sirius said.

“Happy Christmas, mate,” James answered.