Magical Hogwarts

Eigg, March 2005

It was windy. Clouds were racing above her and Parvati pulled up the collar of her coat. Her shiny black hair, which she had carefully styled earlier, was moving like a piece of silk in the wind. She was standing in the middle of nowhere. Her red suede boots sunk into the mud and she could feel how the humidity sneaked through the leather, drawing dark lines onto the formerly perfect red boots.

She had hoped that she could schedule a meeting with Rolf Scamander in a fancy restaurant in London. Truth be told, Parvati liked such invitations. Witch Weekly paid for the expenses and she was seen with famous people in the right places. However, Rolf, while willing to meet her for an interview, had refused to come to London as he had business on the island Eigg in Scotland. He had written to her to meet him there, at a local pub, and since Parvati really wanted to meet him, she had agreed.

While she was more like a city girl, Parvati inhaled deeply as she walked towards the pub. The air here was better, indefinitely more refreshing than in the English capital. The landscape was admittedly quite beautiful as well. The solitude, however, felt strange to her. Aside from a seagull’s shriek when she had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, she hadn’t been greeted by anyone or anything on Eigg.

Parvati had prepared herself for the interview. She knew a bit about Rolf but far more about his grandfather, of course. Newt Scamander was a legend and only a fool would not acknowledge that. Rolf was a young wizard, his path still ahead of him. Parvati’s research had revealed that he was single. She had also found out that he was a consulting Magizoologist for The Daily Prophet, he was tall and his blue eyes were probably his most striking feature. In short, he was a desirable bachelor.

Parvati Scamander… Well, it sounded alright. A famous name always had some ring to it. She’d be sorry, though, to lose the alliteration in her name. Such a shame that things with Harry Potter had not worked out. It had been clear during the Yule Ball that there was no chance whatsoever that Parvati could win the heart of the Boy Who Lived. Parvati Potter-Patil - that would have been a name to die for…

Anyway, she was here to interview Rolf Scamander and that was about it - for now anyway. She reached the pub and checked her golden wrist watch. She was only about two minutes early. Black eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the place as she stepped in. There was no one there yet except for an elderly man who appeared to be the owner of the place.

“Good afternoon,” Parvati greeted him, got out of her coat, and took a seat by the window. Her heart was beating a little quicker when she saw a young man approaching the building. Her hand quickly slid into her robes to retrieve a small mirror. Aside from the fact that she looked a little bit windswept, everything was fine. Her lips had a soft dark pink colour, her eyes were nicely highlighted with nude shades of eyeshadow, kajal and mascara. Her mauve blouse showed a tiny hint of a cleavage, enough to be noticed, not enough to be considered revealing. She smiled to herself as she put the mirror back into her pocket and turned her gaze to the door which had just opened.

@Rolf Scamander

It was a fantastic day. The sort of day where it just felt great to be alive, Rolf thought as he tipped water out of his boot and stuffed it firmly back on over his soggy sock. Getting back to his feet, he realised belatedly that the knees of his jeans were black with bog muck, but that was a small price to pay for studying hinkypunks in their natural habitat. Most wizards assumed they existed purely to deceive magical and non-magical folks alike, never stopping to consider that they had a lifestyle and habits of their own. Oh, they were largely nocturnal, but Rolf believed he was the first person to have managed to track a family group right to their lair. Not without difficulty, of course - on three separate occasions during the previous night he had found himself at least ankle deep in the dank, squelchy bog, but it was absolutely worth it to be crouched here watching the adults feeding the ephemeral babies with squished-up midges and flies.

He patted his pockets, realising belatedly that his notepad must have fallen out sometime during the night. Still, at least he had his camera, and after casting a quick muffling charm so the sound of the shutter wouldn't disturb the creatures, he took several snaps before backing away quietly, or as quietly as he could given the thick, oozing sounds the bog emitted with his every movement. Now he knew where the hinkypunks lived, he could return at his leisure, completing a study that even his famous grandfather Newt hadn't managed.

A big grin on his face, Rolf was almost back to solid ground when a shrill ping sounded from deep within an inner pocket of his overcoat. Bother - a bit later that he had imagined. Rolf had assumed he would have time to return to his hostel and change before meeting Ms Patil for the scheduled interview. No matter though - that was what cleaning charms were for. Once he was entirely out of the bog and back on the outskirts of the village he produced his wand once again and cast Tergeo, siphoning off all the visible muck and slime from his boots and clothes. The slight whiff of outdoors still clung to him but Rolf, always comfortable among earthy smells, was entirely oblivious.

He ran a hand through his hair as he approached the pub, still grinning. He had failed to notice the mud on his right knee or - inexplicably - his left ear as he approached, a quick check of his watch showing that he was exactly on time. He'd spent the night studying a widely-misunderstood creature, he was approaching a pub that sold both good beer and great food, and he was going to be interviewed by a beautiful woman (not that he had looked up Ms Patil's photo in the Prophet, of course).

The bell above the door clanged as he pushed it open and stepped in out of the wind, pausing as his eyes adjusted to the damp interior. The pub was almost deserted, and it was immediately obvious which of the few denizens was Ms Patil. He stared for just a fraction of a second longer than was socially acceptable before remembering how to walk forwards, holding out his hand and wearing a slightly dazed expression.

"Hi, Rolf Scamander. What are you drinking?" he asked, pleased that he had managed to get all the words in the right order.

 

The young man took his time as he stepped into the bar. The light from outside making it impossible to see his features at first. Only as the door shut and left them to the semi-darkness, Parvati could take a closer look at the wizard with the famous last name.

He was handsome, his smile was rather cute but… for an instant Parvati frowned before she opted for a polite smile again. He had dirt on his ear and on his knee. As he approached her table and introduced himself, she also noticed an unpleasant smell. Was it dung? She wrinkled her nose briefly but then regained control over her facial expression.

“Mr. Scamander, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m Parvati Patil.”

In her imagination he had been… clean. He had worn fashionable clothes, and an aquatic and masculine scent. Well, Parvati knew she shouldn’t be disappointed. He was still Newt Scamander’s grandson and as such worthy of her attention.

“I’ll take a cup of Earl Grey,” Parvati responded, looking from Rolf to the bartender who had approached their table.

As they both had placed their orders, the young journalist pulled out a piece of parchment and a quick quotes quill. “Thank you for making the time. You must be so busy," she said, thinking that being busy was the only explanation why he could show up in such a state.

"You don’t mind, do you?!” she gestured at the quill which was already hovering over the parchment, waiting to start taking its notes.

She was pretty. That was his first thought, and his second one too. The third one was much the same, but this time with added inappropriate undertones that, while Rolf knew that he wasn't broadcasting the thought aloud was definitely not something he should be thinking. He pushed the thought away, and immediately though that she was verypretty when she wrinkled her nose.

"Yes. I am. I mean, you too. I mean, pleased to meet you too" he said, now thinking how much easier it was to be sitting ankle-deep in a bog studying animals. Thankfully the bartender arrived at that moment and now all Rolf had to do was remember what sort of drinks were served in bars. Earl Grey tea wouldn't have been the first thing to spring to mind, but on the other hand he supposed deliveries of butterbeer weren't too frequent out here either.

"Uh...lime and soda, please" he said feeling vaguely awkward but unsure whether this was simply because he was in an unfamiliar place. He was almost pleased when Miss Patil pulled out a quill and parchment. It felt like he knew what was supposed to happen now, even if he was usually the one making the notes.

"You're welcome. And it's fine, I've got my field notebook here if you'd like to take a look" he said, then remembered he absolutely hadn't got his field notebook because it was lying somewhere out in the bog. On the upside, it had been a fairly new one, so at least he hadn't lost anything irreplaceable. Hopefully she wouldn't ask to see it, anyway. "i was out studying hinkypunks all last night. They're fascinating creatures, totally misunderstood. Did you know they actually live in family groups most of the time?" he beamed with pleasure, the possibility that not everyone would be as thrilled with this revelation completely passing him by.

Parvati smiled cordially at him. His insecurity didn’t go unnoticed - neither by her nor the quick quotes quill which was already trembling and eager to jot down some first notes. Since Rolf hadn’t dismissed the idea of the quill, Parvati gave it a nod which the quill took as an invitation to start scribbling down barely legible notes.

The waiter left them and returned with their order way too quickly. Parvati found that her tea wasn’t steaming hot but rather lukewarm and the teabag only tentatively coloured the water. Clearly no boiling hot water had been used for it. Parvati drew out her wand, flicking it at the tea so that for the briefest of moments the water came to a boil.

“Your field notebook?” Parvati asked, feeling a little confused, but instantly realised that this was probably a good offer. “Oh yes, that would be very nice indeed. Do you mind if I take a photo of one or two pages?” It would add nicely to her article to actually be able to include notes written by no one less than Newt Scamander’s son.

“Hinkypunks,” Parvati echoed. “I see.” Totally misunderstood. Right. Parvati felt reminded of Hagrid and had to suppress a frown. He had always considered dangerous or useless creatures misunderstood. Parvati could have named half a dozen such creatures right away, starting with the blast ended skrewts.

She opted for a smile, though, reminding herself that she was facing the handsome, albeit a little strange, grandson of famous Newt Scamander. So, did the fact that they were no hermits make hinkypunks any better? Parvati didn’t think so. It only made them more dangerous if they operated in groups.

“So, you’re saying they’re misunderstood,” Parvati said as she pulled the teabag out of her cup. “How so? Aren’t they luring wanderers into the moor to leave them to die there?”

The drinks service was so quick Rolf wondered if it had been magically prepared. He took a sip of the cold drink - using the striped straw it had been served with - and realised he was very thirsty indeed. Then he remembered he hadn't drunk anything since sometime during the night when his water bottle had run out, and he hadn't eaten anything either. It was probably too early to ask if the pub did sandwiches and actually, now he came to think of it, it didn't look like the sort of place that served anything substantial - but they might have some crisps behind the bar. While he thought of this, Rolf was completely oblivious to the substandard condition of the tea.

"Ah..." his cheeks coloured a little "Yes...you see, about that... I sort of lost it in a bog last night and forgot until, um...I offered to show you just now" he said lamely, "But I've got my old one back at my tent if you wanted to see that, you could come back there later if you...I mean..." he trailed off, cheeks now flaming hot enough that Miss Patil could have used his face to heat her tea. Naturally he had made an entirely innocent suggestion, but even as he spoke had realise how it sounded.

Really, Rolf wasn't like this at all with people he knew well. But the trouble with not having attended school was - well, he just hadn't learned the social skills in his teens that most people had, and tended to put his foot in it quite regularly. He decided it was best to just talk about the magical creatures.

"Yes. Hinkypunks. I know what you're thinking, yes, they do have a tendency to lure travellers into bogs but really, in modern times, don't you think anyone who follows a random light in the middle of nowhere deserves to get lost?" then he considered the rest of what she'd said "and they don't leave people to die, not at all! They..."

Ah. Actually their lights tended to lure flying insects which were a major food source, but it was quite true that there were several reports dating back to mediaeval times of skeletal remains that had been found on isolated moorland the day after hinkypunk lights had been out there. It was actually those reports that had prompted Rolf's visit to the island. The circumstantial evidence that they must live in family groups was very strong, and he had been determined to prove it.

"Anyway. they mainly eat insects. You know how moths will fly to a wandlight? Well, it's the same principle - besides, a simple shield charm and hinkypunks just bounce straight off it, if they've even dared to get close enough to you" he said, speaking quite quickly now as he tended to when he got enthusiastic about a subject. Then he remembered what he's been thinking about earlier.

"You know, I'm going to see if they've got any crisps. Did you want any?" he asked, getting to his feet and heading over to the bar.

Parvati’s eyebrows shot upwards before she could help it. This Rolf Scamander guy was really a funny person. First he offered to show her something and then he explained that he didn’t have it. Well, he was a little different from what Parvati had expected. She had been misled to think that someone with a famous family name would be wearing fancy robes and be confident and strong.

What she was looking at reminded her of the school boys in her fourth year at Hogwarts when she had seen them chase after Fleur Delacour and other girls from Beauxbatons and when, not only one guy, had tried to approach Parvati herself to ask her out for the Yule Ball. Some hadn’t actually asked as she had known just how to make them feel embarrassed and turn away before they’d put themselves and her into an awkward situation.

Parvati’s curiosity was piqued when Rolf offered that she could come to his tent. The young witch was quite torn. On the one hand she felt pretty certain that the tent would be smelly and dirty and not seriously a place that she’d enjoy spending time at, on the other hand… She offered Rolf a charming smile.

“Well, I’d love that,” she said, hoping that, maybe, he didn’t behave all gentlemanly,  they might end up getting cosy together and who knew what would happen. Parvati already saw herself pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl that she’d name Sundar and Shreya Scamander-Patil.

The conversation about Hinkypunks came in the way of Parvati’s search for more baby names. Rolf said that people shouldn’t just follow random lights into bogs - which was true, and explained what they ate, but neither of it  make Parvati like Hinkypunks much better.

“I never thought that their danger comes from them actively hurting or killing people. It’s just their way of luring people into dangerous grounds that makes them a threat to some…” Of course anyone in their right mind would question the source of a random light in the middle of nowhere.

“Crisps?” Parvati was astonished by the sudden change of topic but she had learned to go along with such things as, usually, if people went off topic like that they might end up sharing information she could have never obtained by asking common interview questions. “Yes, sure, why not.”

Rolf had messed up and he knew it. The trouble was, his head tended to be so full of so many different things at once, sometimes reality took a little while to catch up. So when he'd said he had the notebook, he was still thinking of several hours earlier when it definitely had been in his pocket. Then he'd compounded it by accidentally making an inappropriate suggestion.

So he was both surprised and relieved when Miss Patil agreed to his offer of coming back to the tent to see his notebook. Actually, now he came to think of it, he had his field notes as well and a study guide that he and his grandfather had gone through and made copious notes in. He could show her that as well. He was pretty sure he'd even got a couple of cans of cider stashed in a kitchen cupboard - it was a bit hard to remember, given that the tent was quite an old one that Lucy had given him when she'd decided she didn't want to use it for festivals any more. He wasn't sure where she'd got it from, but at least he'd managed to get rid of the smell of cats that had prevously permeated both bedrooms. Anyway, it was nice enough now and he wouldn't mind at all entertaining a visitor there later.

Especially seeing as she appeared to understand exactly where he was coming from about the hinkypunks. "Yes! That's exactly it!" he agreed enthusiastically and rather loudly, sitting up straight and appearing quite animated, "and obviously people need to take care not to follow a random light in the middle of nowhere. I suppose hundreds of years ago, when a lot of things were less well understood, following a light wasn't seen to be as crazy as it is now." 

Most people wouldn't have leapt up practically mid-sentence to grab a snack, but Rolf wasn't most people. The bartender seemed less unenthusiastic about actually serving anything that wasn't a drink, but offered a choice of flavours. Rolf almost called out the selection on offer but decided everyone liked cheese and onion and ready salted, returning with a couple of bags that had cost approximately five times what they would have done in a regular shop. He opened one packet and tore it down the middle, leaving them open on the table. It was a genmlemanly gesture given how hungry he was.

"Help yourself" he said, taking a couple for himself and then, remembering why he was here in the first place, "Sorry. Did you want to uh, ask me some questions or something?"

Rolf’s enthusiasm was… funny. Parvati couldn’t quite see why hinkypunks would interest anyone really. She smiled along, though, not because she could relate to anything Rolf said, but because he amused her.

In fact, to her he seemed like a young and handsome male mix of Hagrid and Luna which, now that she thought about it, didn’t really render him husband material even despite his famous family name. He would probably not think of the family first but bring home all kinds of weird creatures and say they were harmless until they ate their babies for breakfast and then he’d probably just call them misunderstood.

Her eyebrows raised up more and more as she listened to his animated speech about hinkypunks. Parvati didn’t want to judge him. She was a journalist, after all. Her job was to ask the right questions. If he gave answers that made him look like a strange creature enthusiast, then that was hardly her mistake.

“Yes,” Parvati said, thinking that agreeing with the crazy was the safest way to go. “You have a point there.”

Rolf ordered and received his crisps. Parvati wondered if he had been starving the past few days.

“Thanks,” Parvati said as he offered her crisps, but didn’t reach for the content of the bag.

He remembered that they were here for an interview. That was a pleasant surprise to Parvati who felt a little lost by this point. WIth Rolf things were rather different than with the people she usually interviewed. Truth be told, after the hinkypunk disaster, she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to ask him. Witch Weekly was hardly interested in reports on some magical creatures. Witch Weekly readers were interested in the bachelor Rolf Scamander.

“Oh yes,” Parvati said, glancing at the quick quotes quill that was hovering over the parchment.

“Well, you said you’re studying hinkypunks here and I’m sure our readers will be delighted to know a little about them. However, most of our readers are more interested in you and your family. Tell me, how is it for you to carry the name Scamander? Do you feel that you’re getting special, even preferential treatment?”

Next time he went out all night to study creatures, Rolf would remember to prepare better. Namely, he would be sure to take a bottle of water and something to eat so he didn't end up feeling lightheaded. The crisps had definitely been a good idea; his stomach gave a quiet growl of appreciation that he hoped hadn't been audible to Miss Patil.

Now they were finally getting down to the interview though, he was a bit surprised by the first question. Surprised, and even slightly irritated. How on earth was he supposed to know if he got preferential treatment? He could hardly compare himself to another magizoologist with a similar job who didn't have a famous grandfather, could he? He didn't want to offend the young woman (she really was very attractive indeed, he thought again, and for a moment lost his train of thought) and besides, he had heard about quick quote quills. Supposedly they could recognise your tone of voice and turn that into something uncomplementary.

"Well I certainly consider myself lucky" he began "I mean, who wouldn't want to be related to the famous Newt Scamander, the first-ever modern magizoologist?" Yes, that sounded good. He decided to expand on it a little further. "If you think about everything he achieved, especially given the situation in America during his first visit, he really is quite remarkable. I definitely want to be more like him. I have done since I was a kid, in fact." Rolf grinned, thinking of his first adventures with his grandfather where the scrapes and leech bites had been a tiny price to pay for the privelige of seeing sights that so few wizards were able to.

He picked up his glass and took a long drink before continuing.

"Preferential treatment, though? I don't think so. I mean, when I applied for the consultant job with the Prophet I had to take my portfolio of articles, the same as...well, I expect it was similar to your own interview" he said, though clearly writing about magical creatures and interviewing people were quite different indeed. He thought about how else to explain himself. "And you know, I never attended Hogwarts, so my experience of education wasn't the same as most people. I took my first OWL exams at the Ministry when I was fourteen, you know. I guess you could say that was special treatment, but I'm sure nobody at the Ministry would have given me better grades just because of my surname."

There, that sounded good, he decided. Showing what he was capable of, answering the question and complimenting the Ministry all in one answer!

“Indeed,” Parvati agreed, a small smile spreading across her face. She could work with Rolf’s statement. The quick quotes quill quickly jotted down a few lines about how grateful the grandson was that his grandfather paved his path to success as a magizoologist, then continuing about how the young wizard was desperate to follow his idol’s example.

“So you’ve known from a young age that you wanted to become a magizoologist just like your famous grandfather?” Parvati asked, taking a sip of her tea and regretting it at once as the drink was hardly tasty.

He thought that he hadn’t received preferential treatment and Parvati was torn between finding his naivety cute and annoying. Surely, the fact that he hadn’t attended a magical school like other applicants had to mean that him getting the job had something to do with his famous surname, right? Usually people were hired that could easily be compared to their competitors. Of course they had to pretend to let him go through the same process as other applicants, but Parvati felt certain that the responsibles at the Prophet had made up their mind before they had even read Rolf’s pieces or seen the young man.

“I see,” Parvati said. “Your surname surely wasn’t a hindrance to success, though.” She couldn’t resist saying this although it was clearly unnecessary.

“You mentioned that you wanted to be like your grandfather since you were a kid. Are there any special memories you have of the time you spent with him during that time? Anything special he introduced you to? Our readers would love to get to know you better but they’d also be delighted to learn more about the private life of Newt Scamander.”

As far as Rolf was concerned, he was doing very well so far and making a great impression. He still felt pretty awkward, but he felt that way around most people, pretty girls or no, so that was just normal. He grinned enthusiastically, happy to have the opportunity to talk about his favourite subject.

"Oh, definitely! I wanted to be just like Grandpa since I was..." he paused and frowned thoughtfully "actually, do you know I have no idea? I can´t remember a time when I didn´t love animals. Mum had pet rabbits when I was a baby and apparently I would always coo and giggle when she carried me out to see them in their run in the garden. Then when I learned to walk I used to collect slugs to feed to the hedgehogs, and draw the butterflies in Mum´s greenhouse... oh, and when I was six - or was I seven? - anyway, we moved up to Yorkshire and our garden backed onto a National Park - oh, they´re like places where muggles protect the wildlife living there - I know, I was as surprised as you when I found out they did stuff like that, they do have sensible ideas sometimes... where was I? Anyway, Grandpa and Grandma came to visit, and we went to visit them, but when I was eight I started writing to Grandpa and then I smuggled a niffler into my bedroom so...yeah, I supposed I was eight when I knew for sure I was going to follow in his footsteps."

Rolf stopped talking and reached for his glass and took another drink. Then he remembered the crisps - Ms. Patil didn´t seem to be hungry, so he picked up a few more and enjoyed them, waiting for the next question. That felt a bit weird in itself. Not being very experience in interviews Rolf felt like he was being rude and maybe he should ask something. Like whether she´d always wanted to be a journalist or what her favourite subject had been at Hogwarts...oh! He wondered how old she was. Maybe they would have known each other if he´d been able to go to school...

Caught up in these musings, Rolf didn´t spot the danger inherent in such an innocent-sounding next question. Nor did it turn out to be a problem, though, because the first thing that sprung into his mind was hardly personal nor even very useful to a journalist.

"The first thing I really remember - I was about four, I think, and staying at Grandpa and Grandma´s house, and I wanted one of their house kneazles to sleep on my bed, and I somehow managed to summon it... Grandma says she was doubled over with laughter at the sight of the poor thing flying through the air with its paws flailing..." Rolf was laughing a little at this point himself "that was my first sign of magic anyway..." He paused and then thought of something else "Oh, and he used to have this magically extended briefcase he kept all his magical creatures in... he´d left it in America with Great Aunt Queenie when he stopped needing it... doesn´t work any more, but she gave it to me, so its like I carry a bit of his greatness everywhere with me."

The fact that he hadn´t got the briefcase with him now had completely passed him by.

The quick quotes quill rushed across the parchment as though it was chased by an angry werewolf. Rolf was talking quickly, losing his thread every so often and making it hard to summarise his ramblings in a printworthy way. Parvati watched him with some amusement, but tried not to let it show. The young man in front of her was very enthusiastic or maybe he was just immature.

“I see,” Parvati said as he finally took a break to have something to drink. Surely his mouth was dry after all that he had spoken now. Was there anything that she wanted him to expand on? Rather not the slugs. Parvati didn’t like slugs and didn’t even want to think about them. Yuck. Butterflies were an infinitely preferable topic but the reference to a National Park and muggles seemed like something she could work on as well. Or well, of course, Newt Scamander. The grandfather was by far the most exciting part about this young man.

It didn’t take long until Rolf was merrily laughing at his own memories and Parvati wondered if he hadn’t been to school because he was… not quite right in his mind. She smiled softly, though. She was not going to ruin the name Scamander in Witch Weekly. Nobody would thank her for that.

The quick quotes quill jotted down a line first sign of magic was actually an act of cruelty towards animals, letting a kneazle fly through the air against its will.

“You have the famous briefcase?” Parvati asked, truly astonished and impressed. “I’ve heard about it. It is, well, it was such a powerful magical item. Do you have it with you now?” She glanced around but couldn’t spot it.

“I’d like to get back to something you said earlier. You mentioned that you drew butterflies. Were these just simple paintings or first studies of the anatomy of animals?” She almost hoped that he’d tell her something about how he had studied animals early in his life rather than smuggled a niffler into his bedroom or summoned a kneazle through the air. Neither of that seemed to be anything that set him apart from an average animal loving child.

"The briefcase? Yeah, it's pretty legendary" Rolf agreed, his mind drifting back to when he'd first encountered it. He'd heard about it as a small child and always dreamed of somehow making it work again so he could carry a whole menagerie of creatures around with him to keep him company. But the first time he'd been allowed to actually open it himself was just before his thirteenth birthday... "I remember when Great Aunt Queenie said I could keep it. I was so excited, it was the best present I had that year" he said, completely forgetting he'd had half the reminiscences in his head, so Miss Patil would likely be confused. But unsurprisingly, Rolf was oblivious.

"It's back at the hostel where I'm staying...well, I've got a tent in the grounds actually" he said, rubbing the side of his nose. Had he got a midge bite there? He'd take a look later and apply some insect repelling lotion - something he tended to avoid most of the time, because the last thing he wanted to do was repel creatures, even if they did want to feast on his blood. "You're welcome to have a look, but like I said, it only looks like an ordinary case these days. I've got my spare pants in there..." Once again, oblivious to the possibility that talking about his underwear wasn't quite the norm for an interview, Rolf took another drink, a long one. His glass was almost empty now, and he at least knew that it wouldn't be acceptable to magically refill it. He could go to the bar again in a minute.

He frowned then though. Butterflies? How was he supposed to remember exactly what he'd drawn when he was arely more than a toddler? "I don't exactly remember" he admitted, honest as always "I just wanted to collect them in some way, without harming them. I remember I drew one of each colour and them matched them to pictures in a book so I could find out what species they were. I drew other insects too. Earwigs were one of my favourites - oh, and devil's coach horses. Have you ever really looked at one? They're just like tiny black scorpions, they raise their tails when they feel threatened and they're just...cute! You don't tend to find them this far North, otherwise I'd try and find one to show you..."

Rolf shrugged apologetically, feeling that he had just disappointed Miss Patil and deprived her of a thrilling opportunity.

The article about Rolf Scamander was getting harder to write with every minute the interview proceeded. The more the young man told her, the harder it was for Parvati to take him seriously and write the kind of article that her editor expected her to write - an article about a young bachelor who was following the famous footsteps of his grandfather.

“What year was it?” Parvati asked, trying to make sense of Rolf’s speech that seemed more like an inner monologue than anything for another person to understand. Of course, he was different from some of the celebrities she had interviewed in the past. Rolf Scamander didn’t often give interviews. She would bet on it that this was his first ever interview.

Parvati raised her eyebrows and her lips twitched, threatening to form an amused grin as Rolf casually mentioned his underwear. This was definitely his first interview. Parvati, however, was a journalist for Witch Weekly for a while and reporting on a desirable bachelor’s underwear might be interesting to some readers at least.

“Oh,” she said, “well, I’d love to see the briefcase… and I wouldn’t mind telling our readers what kind of pants Rolf Scamander prefers.” She winked at him. Maybe it was not quite the content her editor had asked her to get, but what could be juicier than his underwear? He didn’t seem like he could report any forbidden affairs or scandalous romances. She had a camera with her so she could take a photo of the briefcase with a pant looking out of it. A headline could be ‘See how the grandson of famous Newt Scamander uses the legendary briefcase’.

“I see.” Parvati offered a close lipped smile. The quill made the best of the information on the butterflies, but it didn’t really capture Parvati’s interest.

She felt goosebumps forming on her arms as Rolf told her about earwigs and devil’s coach horses. These animals weren’t high on her list of creatures she liked, they rather have a place on the bottom of the list where one could also find blast-ended screwts and, of course, spiders.

“I’ve only seen pictures of them. And, yeah, such a shame that we’re this far North…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to find a sensible question to ask.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” she asked, it was one of the standard questions she often asked in interviews but it could potentially lead to some interesting revelations.