“You really are an interesting man, Mr. Scamander…”
Newt chewed on the inside of his cheek and blinked at the dark grey tabletop. Mr. Graves sighed and leaned forward, his fingertips gliding over the paperwork before him.
“Thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life – “
He sensed Tina tense up behind him, the soft clinking of the chains that held her hands bound. “That was an accident,” Newt said. He dared to peek over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Tina’s grey jacket in the corner of his eye.
“ – with a beast,” Mr. Graves said, ignoring Newt’s interjection. Newt gritted his teeth as he slowly turned back around, looking back to the same spot on the tabletop. There was a smudge, and Newt could feel his eyes lose their focus as he stared at it. “Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now…”
Newt blinked, his eyes refocusing on the room. They would be all right – his creatures, they would. He could figure out a way to get out of this. He just had to stay calm and keep his head.
“What makes Albus Dumbledore so – “ Newt’s eyebrows raised at the sudden pause, as well as genuine curiosity in Mr. Grave’s voice. “ – fond of you?”
* * * * *
Rain pattered against the window pane behind Newt’s bed in the hospital wing on the first floor. He let out a long sigh that made the candle by his bedside dance on its wick. Tugging on the hem of his blanket, Newt winced. The burns running up his arm pulled tight against his fresh bandages.
It was not her fault – Helga would not have hurt him or Leta or anyone – she had been scared, that was all. In fact, she was probably scared now that she was alone.
He had cried as he watched Professor Beist pack the baby Hebridian Black dragon into a crate. They took her away to the dragon sanctuary in Romania, which was for the best if he was being honest with himself. He was all she knew, would she be all right without him? He was with her every moment he could since he found her egg in the Forbidden Forest. (He had been there to help Professor Noinin look for some dittany for Madam Mirani.) Would she be lonely without him? Would she get along with the other dragons?
His sniffles were loud in the empty hospital wing, and he wiped away his dribbling tears and snot. She would be fine; Helga would be just fine.
“Tears never solve our problems, Mr. Scamander.” Newt jolted, peering over the hem of his blankets and up at Professor Dumbledore. His spectacles sparkled in the candle light, and he folded his hands in front of himself. Once his heart started beating at its normal tempo again, Newt sat up and cradled his burned arm to his chest.
“But, perhaps, they help relieve them, if only for a little while.”
Newt gulped, looking away from his Transfiguration professor and to his blanket. “Is she…Helga…is she – “
“All right?” Dumbledore asked, his voice soft as a flickering candle. Newt nodded again. “Just received the owl from Sandu that she has arrived in safety.” Newt leaned back into his pillows, letting out a sigh. He dragged his thumb over the edge of his bandage as Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Tell me, my dear boy, what were you doing with a dragon inside Hogwarts?”
Newt worried at his bottom lip, keeping his eyes trained to the pattern of his blanket. “She needed my help.” He lifted his eyes and saw his own tired reflection in the professor’s spectacles. “She never would have hurt me had she not been scared.”
The bed dipped under Professor Dumbledore’s weight as he sat at the foot of the hospital bed. “Why did she attack you, then?”
Newt let out a sniff of a laugh, blinking rapidly. “Sh-she was sleeping in her bed of chicken feathers, belly-up, you see.” He gulped, giving the professor a hint of a smile. “The scales on her underbelly are still soft and sensitive. When she’s tickled there, her back legs twitch.” Professor Dumbledore chuckled, and Newt shifted beneath his blankets. “Leta slammed the door to the closet where we kept Helga and that startled her. It wasn’t her fault, I swear. She didn’t mean any harm. She was just learning how to spit fire and the shelves were wood and – “
Newt’s voice trailed off as he shrugged and lowered his eyes to his blankets. “I hope she’ll be happy in Romania.”
“I’m sure she will be.”
“Am I in trouble?” Newt asked as Professor Dumbledore stood. “I know I probably shou – “
“Did you learn your lesson?”
Newt’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked up at the professor. Lesson? What – oh. The wrinkles framing Professor Dumbledore’s eyes etched mirth into his expression. He was joking with him. “Yes,” Newt said after some thought, a smirk toying with the corner of his mouth. “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.”
The professor’s laugh resounded in the empty hospital wing as he walked away. Newt looked up and watched him make his way to the doors. “You really are interesting, my dear boy. Get some rest,” he said, closing the hospital wing door behind him.
Newt tucked his bandaged arm beneath his blanket as he pulled it over his shoulders. He rested his head back onto his pillow, staring blearily at the candle. The flame danced alone in the surrounding darkness, the sound of rain soon lulling Newt to sleep.
* * * * *
Newt turned to face Mr. Graves as the fond memory melted away, his eyes still trained to the tabletop. He gave him a slow shake of his head. “I really couldn’t say,” he said, tearing his eyes away from the grey tabletop and daring to meet Mr. Grave’s gaze.