The morning mist still clung to the ancient oaks surrounding Potter Manor when the distinctive crack of Apparition announced the arrival of Newton and Tina Scamander in the estate's formal gardens. Newt materialized with his characteristic slight stumble—not from any lack of magical skill, but from the sort of distracted coordination that came from a mind perpetually occupied with creatures whose welfare required constant monitoring—while Tina appeared beside him with the precise, controlled landing that spoke of years of Auror training and professional necessity.
The leather case Newt carried seemed even more heavily packed than usual, bulging with what appeared to be enough specialized equipment to establish a temporary research station, complete with several items that were definitely moving on their own and making soft chittering sounds that suggested living specimens rather than mere instruments. His traveling robes bore the subtle modifications of someone who expected to encounter creatures with claws, teeth, and unpredictable magical emanations: reinforced fabric, numerous hidden pockets, and what looked suspiciously like protective charms woven directly into the material itself.
"Impressive wards," Tina observed with professional appreciation as they approached the manor's front entrance, her experienced eye automatically cataloging the various protective enchantments that shimmered almost invisibly around the estate's perimeter, "Potter family security has always been thorough, but these feel particularly comprehensive."
"Ancient bloodline protections combined with modern defensive innovations," Newt agreed with scholarly interest, though his attention was already divided between the manor's architectural charm and several distant sounds that might have indicated the presence of magical creatures somewhere on the grounds, "quite sophisticated, actually. I can detect at least seven different magical signatures working in harmony, which suggests considerable expertise in protective charm integration."
The front door opened before they could announce their arrival, revealing Fleamont Potter with his characteristic combination of aristocratic bearing and genuine warmth. His silver hair was perfectly groomed despite the early hour, and his formal robes suggested he had risen early specifically to prepare for their visit—though his eyes showed the sort of alertness that indicated he had probably been awake for some time, thinking through the implications of what they were about to assess.
"Newt! Tina!" he greeted them with obvious pleasure and just a hint of relief, "Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. I hope the journey wasn't too inconvenient—I know your schedule is always completely impossible, what with the various creatures who consider your personal availability a matter of life-and-death importance."
"Not at all," Newt replied with characteristic gentle enthusiasm, already scanning the manor's surroundings with the sort of professional attention that suggested he was automatically cataloging potential habitat considerations, "Actually, I'm quite grateful for the opportunity. Nundu familiar bonds are so rare that studying one could advance our understanding of magical creature psychology by decades."
"Assuming," Tina added with practical precision, "that we can establish proper safety protocols and ensure healthy development for both the child and the creature. Unprecedented magical bonds require unprecedented caution in their management."
"Of course," Fleamont agreed with immediate understanding, "which is precisely why we wanted expert assessment before proceeding further. Hadrian's welfare—and that of his remarkable familiar—must be our primary concern, regardless of how fascinating the situation might be from an academic perspective."
He gestured toward the manor's interior with elegant hospitality, "They're waiting in the morning room with the other children, though I should warn you that six eleven-year-olds who've been anticipating meeting the famous Newton Scamander since dawn tend to generate considerable... enthusiasm."
"I quite enjoy enthusiastic young people," Newt said with genuine pleasure, his eyes lighting up with the sort of anticipation that suggested he found educational opportunities almost as exciting as discovering new species, "children often ask the most perceptive questions about magical creatures because they haven't yet learned to accept conventional limitations as absolute truth."
As they entered the manor's elegantly appointed front hall—where morning sunlight streamed through tall windows to illuminate oil portraits of distinguished Potter ancestors and display cases filled with artifacts from generations of magical achievement—the sound of animated conversation drifted from a nearby room, punctuated by occasional laughter and what might have been a distinctly non-human purring sound.
"That would be Aslan expressing contentment," Fleamont observed with fond amusement, "he's developed quite a repertoire of vocalizations since bonding with Hadrian, most of which seem designed to communicate specific emotional states with remarkable precision."
"Fascinating," Newt murmured with scholarly interest, his professional instincts immediately engaged, "Nundu cubs typically don't develop complex vocal communication patterns until much later in their development. Early sophisticated vocalization often indicates accelerated social intelligence, which could be either a natural trait or a result of the familiar bond itself."
"Before we meet them," Tina interjected with the sort of diplomatic precision that came from years of managing complex magical situations, "perhaps you could provide more specific details about the bonding process itself? Official reports are useful, but firsthand observation often reveals nuances that don't translate well to written documentation."
"Certainly," Fleamont agreed, settling into a comfortable chair in the sitting room adjacent to where the children were waiting, his expression becoming more serious as he prepared to recount events that had clearly made a significant impression, "though I should emphasize that what we witnessed defied most of our preconceptions about how familiar bonds typically develop."
He paused thoughtfully, his fingers drumming against the chair's armrest with the sort of nervous energy that suggested the memory still felt somewhat surreal, "When we arrived at the Magical Menagerie, the proprietor immediately directed our attention toward a particular enclosure that he claimed housed a creature no one had been able to adopt successfully, despite months of attempts by various qualified wizards."
"And the creature in question was clearly a Nundu cub?" Newt asked with careful precision, already pulling out a leather-bound notebook and beginning to make detailed notes with the sort of methodical thoroughness that suggested he was documenting every aspect of this unprecedented situation.
"Unmistakably," Fleamont confirmed with absolute certainty, "perhaps eight months old, based on size and developmental characteristics, with the distinctive silver-spotted coat and those remarkable golden eyes that seem to look directly into one's soul with uncomfortable intelligence."
"Eight months is quite young for separation from the mother," Tina observed with professional concern, "Nundu cubs typically remain with their birth pride for at least twelve months to develop proper social behaviors and magical control. Early separation often results in developmental complications that can persist throughout adulthood."
"According to the shop's records," Fleamont continued with obvious sympathy for the creature's circumstances, "Aslan was found alone in the Tanzania after his mother was killed by illegal poachers who were attempting to harvest Nundu hide for the black market. He was severely malnourished and suffering from magical exhaustion when he was rescued."
"Which explains the early availability for adoption," Newt said with gentle sadness, his expression showing the sort of compassionate understanding that made him so effective in magical creature rehabilitation, "orphaned cubs often struggle to form appropriate social bonds, which makes successful familiar bonding even more remarkable."
"The moment Hadrian approached the enclosure," Fleamont recalled with obvious wonder, "both he and Aslan showed immediate recognition that was visible even to those of us with limited expertise in magical creature behavior. The cub began purring—a sound none of us had heard before—while Hadrian seemed to enter a state of focused concentration that suggested he was receiving some form of direct communication."
"Direct telepathic contact?" Tina asked with sharp professional interest, "That level of immediate mental connection is extraordinarily rare, even in mature familiar relationships."
"Professor McGonagall described it as resembling advanced Legilimency, but occurring naturally and without any apparent effort from either participant," Fleamont explained with academic precision, "and the magical resonance was so strong that several nearby enchanted items began responding in sympathy—jewelry started glowing, protective charms activated spontaneously, and one particularly sensitive magical mirror actually cracked from the overflow."
"Remarkable," Newt breathed with scholarly fascination, his quill moving rapidly across the parchment as he attempted to capture every detail, "that level of magical resonance suggests compatibility that goes far beyond normal familiar bonding—they may have achieved something closer to true magical symbiosis."
"The bonding itself took less than five minutes," Fleamont continued, "and by the time the proprietor completed the adoption paperwork, Hadrian and Aslan were communicating with the sort of effortless understanding that typically takes months to develop."
From the adjacent room came the sound of young voices raised in animated discussion, punctuated by occasional laughter and what sounded like patient explanations being given in response to eager questions. The underlying purring sound had intensified, suggesting that whatever was occurring was meeting with Aslan's complete approval.
"I think," Newt said with gentle enthusiasm, rising from his chair with the sort of purposeful energy that indicated he was ready to begin his professional assessment, "it's time we met this remarkable pair and observed their interaction firsthand."
"Before we do," Tina added with practical consideration, "are there any specific behaviors or reactions we should be prepared for? Unusual magical manifestations, protective responses, communication patterns that might seem alarming to inexperienced observers?"
"Aslan appears to be remarkably well-socialized for a creature of his species," Fleamont assured them with obvious pride in his nephew's familiar, "he's shown no aggression toward anyone, responds appropriately to social cues, and seems to understand that not everyone can communicate with him the way Hadrian does."
"And Hadrian himself?" Newt inquired with gentle concern, "Any signs of magical exhaustion, personality changes, or difficulty managing the increased magical load that Nundu bonds typically create?"
"Quite the opposite," Fleamont replied with obvious satisfaction, "if anything, he seems more confident and focused than before the bonding. The connection appears to be providing stability rather than strain."
As they prepared to enter the morning room where six young voices were creating a symphony of excited conversation, Newt found himself experiencing the sort of professional anticipation that accompanied truly unprecedented magical discoveries—not just the opportunity to study a rare phenomenon, but the chance to witness what might prove to be the beginning of an entirely new chapter in magical creature-human relationships.
"Remember," he murmured to Tina with gentle humor as they approached the door, "we're not just assessing a familiar bond—we're potentially observing the foundation of revolutionary advances in interspecies magical cooperation."
"No pressure at all," she replied with fond exasperation, though her expression showed she was equally intrigued by the possibilities ahead.
The morning room of Potter Manor had been transformed into what could only be described as an impromptu magical creature appreciation society meeting, with six eleven-year-olds arranged in a comfortable circle around what was undoubtedly the most relaxed Nundu cub in magical history. Aslan lay sprawled in a patch of morning sunlight with the sort of complete contentment that suggested he considered these particular humans to be not just acceptable company, but genuinely delightful companions.
Hadrian sat cross-legged beside his familiar with one hand resting gently on the cub's silvery flank, his expression showing the sort of peaceful concentration that indicated he was maintaining some level of constant mental connection. The other children were positioned at respectful distances that allowed them to observe and interact without crowding, their faces bright with fascination and what appeared to be genuine affection for the remarkable creature in their midst.
"And his coat changes color slightly depending on his mood," Hadrian was explaining with scholarly enthusiasm to James Potter, who was taking notes with the sort of determined precision that suggested he was planning to become an expert on Nundu behavior through sheer determination, "when he's completely relaxed like now, the silver spots have golden edges, but when he's alert or curious, they become more distinctly silver."
"That's absolutely brilliant," James replied with obvious admiration, "do you think all Nundus have that trait, or is it specific to Aslan because of your bond?"
"I'm not sure," Hadrian admitted with the sort of honest intellectual curiosity that suggested he was genuinely interested in understanding rather than just showing off, "we'd need to observe other Nundus to know if it's a general species characteristic or something unique to familiar-bonded individuals."
"Which," interrupted Sirius Black with characteristic dramatic flair, though his tone carried genuine respect for the complexity of the question, "would require finding someone else willing to bond with a creature that most wizards consider only slightly less dangerous than a dragon with anger management issues."
"Nundus aren't dangerous if you understand them properly," Alice Fortescue observed with the sort of practical wisdom that suggested she had been thinking seriously about magical creature behavior, "they're just very powerful and protective of their territory. Like most creatures, really—they only become aggressive when they feel threatened or misunderstood."
"Exactly," agreed Bellatrix Black with uncharacteristic gentleness, her usual intensity softened by what appeared to be genuine fondness for Aslan, "he's not scary at all once you realize he's just a very large, very magical cat who happens to be able to level buildings when he's fully grown."
"That's a rather significant qualification," Narcissa pointed out with dry humor, though she was gently stroking one of Aslan's ears with the sort of careful attention that suggested she was genuinely comfortable with the creature, "the building-leveling part, I mean."
"Which is why proper socialization and training are so important," Andromeda added with scholarly interest, "if Aslan grows up understanding appropriate behavior around humans and property, he'll never need to use that level of magical power defensively."
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and all six children turned toward the doorway with expressions of eager anticipation mixed with respectful nervousness. Aslan's golden eyes opened fully, his ears rotating toward the new arrivals with alert curiosity rather than suspicion.
"Children," Fleamont announced as he entered with Newt and Tina, "I'd like you to meet Newton and Tina Scamander, who have come to meet Aslan and learn about his remarkable bond with Hadrian."
The effect of this introduction was immediate and dramatic. All six children straightened with the sort of reverent attention usually reserved for meeting legendary heroes, while Hadrian's face lit up with the particular excitement that came from meeting someone whose work he had clearly admired from a distance.
"Mr. Scamander!" Hadrian exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm, though he was careful not to move suddenly in a way that might disturb his familiar, "I've read 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' at least six times—it's absolutely brilliant how you explain creature behavior in terms of their natural needs rather than just categorizing them as dangerous or safe."
"And the section on proper approach techniques for nervous creatures," added Alice with obvious admiration, "has been incredibly helpful for understanding how to interact with Aslan without making him uncomfortable."
"Your research on familiar bonding theory revolutionized the entire field," James contributed with the sort of academic respect that suggested he had been doing considerable background reading, "especially your work on interspecies magical communication patterns."
Newt's gentle face flushed slightly with pleasure at their obvious knowledge of his work, though his professional attention was already focused on Aslan with the sort of careful observation that suggested he was cataloging every detail of the cub's appearance and behavior.
"Thank you all very much," he said with genuine warmth, "though I have to say, meeting a successfully bonded Nundu cub is far more exciting for me than my books could possibly be for you. May I... that is, would it be all right if I observed your interaction with Aslan more closely?"
"Of course," Hadrian replied immediately, though he glanced down at his familiar with the sort of questioning expression that suggested he was checking for consent, "Aslan says he's curious about you too—he can sense that you've worked with many different magical creatures, and he finds that interesting."
"He told you that?" Tina asked with sharp professional interest, settling into a nearby chair with the sort of careful attention that indicated she was prepared to document everything she observed, "Direct communication, or general emotional impression?"
"Direct communication," Hadrian confirmed with matter-of-fact certainty, "not in words exactly, but in concepts and images that are perfectly clear. Right now he's sharing what feels like... appreciation? He likes that you're not afraid of him, and he's curious about the creatures you carry in your case."
Newt's eyebrows rose with scholarly fascination as he glanced down at his seemingly innocent leather case, "He can detect them? Even through the magical concealment charms?"
"He says magical creatures recognize each other regardless of human concealment magic," Hadrian explained with growing confidence, "something about shared magical signatures that don't depend on physical senses."
"Extraordinary," Newt murmured, carefully settling onto the floor near Hadrian and Aslan with movements that were deliberately slow and non-threatening, "that level of magical perception is typically associated with much older Nundus—it suggests either exceptional natural ability or accelerated development due to the familiar bond."
Aslan raised his magnificent head and regarded Newt with those unsettling golden eyes, his expression showing intelligent evaluation rather than suspicion. After a moment that felt pregnant with some form of non-verbal communication, the cub rose gracefully and approached the magizoologist with steps that managed to be both dignified and welcoming.
"He wants to greet you properly," Hadrian translated with obvious pleasure, "he says you smell like safe places and interesting stories."
"May I?" Newt asked softly, extending one hand with palm up in the gesture he had learned worked best with cautious magical creatures.
Aslan sniffed delicately at his fingers, then pressed his enormous head against Newt's palm with a rumbling purr that seemed to vibrate through the entire room. The trust implicit in the gesture was so complete and immediate that several of the children gasped with delighted surprise.
"Remarkable," Newt breathed, gently stroking the silvery fur with obvious wonder, "I can actually feel the magical resonance between you two—it's like standing near a perfectly tuned magical instrument that's playing in harmony with itself."
"That's exactly what it feels like," Hadrian agreed with obvious relief at finding someone who could understand the experience, "like there's music playing just below the level of normal hearing, but it's made of feelings and thoughts instead of sounds."
"And you experience no strain from maintaining this connection?" Tina inquired with professional concern, "No magical exhaustion, difficulty concentrating on other tasks, or overwhelming emotional input?"
"None at all," Hadrian assured her with complete honesty, "if anything, I feel more focused and centered than before we bonded. Aslan's presence is... steadying, I suppose. Like having a completely reliable friend who understands everything you're thinking and feeling."
"Which raises fascinating questions about the nature of Nundu magical emanations," Newt observed with scholarly excitement, still gently examining Aslan's coat and noting the subtle color variations Hadrian had described, "traditional theory suggests that Nundu magical signatures should be overwhelming to human nervous systems, but clearly that's not universally true."
"Perhaps," suggested Bellatrix with unusual thoughtfulness, "the problem isn't that Nundus are too powerful for humans to handle, but that most humans approach them with fear and preconceptions that create magical resistance rather than compatibility."
"An excellent observation," Newt agreed with obvious approval, "magical creature interactions are often shaped more by human expectations than by the creatures' actual nature. Fear and suspicion create exactly the sort of negative magical resonance that leads to aggressive responses."
"Whereas Hadrian approached Aslan with curiosity and openness," Andromeda added with analytical precision, "which would create the positive conditions necessary for successful bonding."
"Plus," James pointed out with characteristic enthusiasm, "Hadrian's never been taught to be afraid of powerful magical creatures, so he didn't bring any negative preconceptions to the interaction."
"That's actually quite profound," Tina observed with professional interest, "most of our training in magical creature management emphasizes caution and defensive protocols, which could inadvertently create the very problems we're trying to prevent."
As the conversation continued, with the children asking increasingly sophisticated questions about magical creature behavior and Newt providing detailed answers with obvious delight in their genuine interest, it became clear that what they were witnessing was far more significant than a simple familiar bond assessment.
This was, potentially, the beginning of an entirely new approach to magical creature relations—one based on understanding and mutual respect rather than fear and control. And at the center of it all, a young wizard and his remarkable familiar were demonstrating that some of the most fundamental assumptions about magical creature compatibility might need to be completely reconsidered.
Outside the morning room windows, the ancient oaks of Potter Manor rustled in the gentle breeze, their leaves whispering secrets that seemed to acknowledge the historic nature of what was occurring within those comfortable walls. Magic, after all, had its own ways of recognizing when something truly extraordinary was beginning to unfold.
—
The comprehensive magical diagnostic that followed was unlike anything the children had ever witnessed, transforming the comfortable morning room into what resembled a sophisticated magizoological research laboratory. Newt's seemingly modest leather case revealed itself to contain an extraordinary collection of specialized instruments, each designed for specific aspects of magical creature assessment and appearing far too large to have fit within the case's physical dimensions.
"The extension charms on that case," Sirius observed with obvious fascination as Newt continued extracting equipment, "must be absolutely extraordinary. It's like watching someone pull an entire research facility out of a handbag."
"Twenty-seven different climate zones, full laboratory facilities, and enough space for a small army of creatures," Newt replied with absent-minded pride, arranging delicate silver instruments with the sort of practiced efficiency that came from years of field research, "Tina helped me design the organizational systems—without her input, I'd never find anything when I needed it."
"The trick," Tina added with fond amusement, "was convincing him that alphabetical organization was more practical than arranging everything by creature size and dietary preferences."
The diagnostic process itself proved to be remarkably non-invasive, consisting primarily of Newt moving various enchanted instruments around Aslan while making detailed notes and occasionally murmuring observations that combined scholarly precision with genuine admiration. The Nundu cub submitted to the examination with the sort of patient cooperation that suggested he understood the importance of what was occurring, though his golden eyes remained fixed on Hadrian throughout the process.
"Extraordinary muscle development for his age," Newt murmured, carefully examining readings from what appeared to be a magical version of a stethoscope, "his physical condition is absolutely excellent—better than most wild Nundu cubs, actually. Whatever dietary program you've established is clearly meeting all his nutritional requirements."
"We've been following the guidelines from your creature care manual," Hadrian explained with obvious pride in their systematic approach, "fresh meat three times daily, with mineral supplements and magical energy boosters as recommended for growing cubs."
"And he's been eating well? No digestive difficulties, finicky preferences, or concerning changes in appetite?" Newt inquired while adjusting what looked like a crystalline monocle that was glowing with soft blue light.
"He has definite preferences," Alice observed with a smile, "he likes his meat at room temperature rather than cold, and he refuses anything that's been magically preserved—only fresh or naturally aged."
"Discerning palate," Newt approved, making additional notes, "that's actually a positive sign—picky eating habits in young Nundus often indicate sophisticated magical sensitivity rather than behavioral problems."
The magical resonance measurements proved particularly fascinating, with several instruments producing readings that made Newt pause and double-check his equipment before recording the results with obvious amazement.
"I'm getting harmonics I've never seen before," he admitted with scholarly wonder, holding up a device that resembled a tuning fork crossed with a barometer, "the magical signature integration between you two is so complete that my instruments are having difficulty determining where Hadrian's magical field ends and Aslan's begins."
"Is that... normal?" Fleamont asked with understandable concern, "for familiar bonds, I mean?"
"It's completely unprecedented," Tina replied with professional fascination, "most familiar bonds show distinct but compatible magical signatures—like two different instruments playing in harmony. This appears to be more like... well, like a single instrument with twice the usual range."
"Which explains the absence of magical strain," Newt added with growing excitement, "instead of Hadrian's magical system being overwhelmed by Aslan's power, they're functioning as a unified magical entity. The energy flows between them rather than accumulating in dangerous concentrations."
"So it's safe?" Narcissa asked with the sort of practical concern that suggested she was already thinking about the implications for Hogwarts attendance.
"From a magical stability perspective, yes," Newt confirmed with obvious satisfaction, "though we should monitor the situation as Aslan continues to mature. Nundu magical output increases dramatically during adolescence, so we'll need to ensure the bond remains stable as he grows."
The physical examination revealed equally encouraging results. Aslan's growth rate was progressing normally for a Nundu cub, his reflexes were sharp and appropriate, and his social responses to various stimuli indicated healthy psychological development despite his traumatic early separation from his birth pride.
"He's remarkably well-adjusted," Newt observed while testing Aslan's responses to different magical signatures by having each child approach individually, "most orphaned cubs show signs of social anxiety or defensive aggression, but he's displaying textbook examples of confident, secure behavior patterns."
"That's because of Hadrian," Andromeda said with obvious conviction, "the bond gives him the emotional stability he would have gotten from his mother and littermates."
"Precisely," Newt agreed with professional approval, "the familiar bond is providing the psychological security necessary for healthy development. It's actually a perfect demonstration of how magical creature rehabilitation should work—addressing emotional needs alongside physical care."
As the morning progressed and the diagnostic process continued, the conversation naturally turned to the practical considerations that would determine whether Aslan could accompany Hadrian to Hogwarts. The children listened with increasing attention as Newt began outlining the various factors that would need to be addressed.
"The primary concerns will be safety protocols for the school population, appropriate accommodations for Aslan's specific needs, and long-term planning for his continued growth and development," he explained with characteristic thoroughness, consulting his extensive notes while organizing his thoughts.
"What sort of safety protocols?" James asked with obvious interest in the practical details, "I mean, beyond the obvious fact that Aslan would never hurt anyone intentionally."
"Accidental magical discharge is the main concern," Tina replied with professional precision, "Nundu cubs don't have complete control over their magical output, especially when they're excited, surprised, or emotionally stimulated. Even friendly enthusiasm could potentially damage property or overwhelm sensitive individuals."
"Plus dietary requirements," Newt added with practical consideration, "a growing Nundu requires approximately fifteen pounds of fresh meat daily, along with specific mineral supplements that aren't typically available through normal school meal services."
"Exercise needs are also significant," he continued, warming to the subject with obvious expertise, "Nundus require considerable physical activity to maintain proper health—ideally several hours of running, climbing, and exploration daily, in an environment large enough to accommodate their natural territorial instincts."
"Hogwarts has extensive grounds," Bellatrix pointed out with characteristic problem-solving instincts, "surely there's enough space for proper exercise, especially in the Forbidden Forest areas."
"The Forbidden Forest would actually be ideal," Newt agreed with growing enthusiasm, "natural habitat, plenty of space, and existing populations of magical creatures that could provide appropriate socialization opportunities."
"Socialization with other magical creatures," Fleamont mused thoughtfully, "that's an interesting consideration. Would interaction with the school's existing magical fauna be beneficial or potentially problematic?"
"Beneficial, definitely," Newt replied with confident certainty, "young Nundus need exposure to other magical species to develop proper social instincts. Isolation often leads to territorial aggression or inappropriate behavioral patterns."
"And the centaurs in the forest are quite civilized," Alice added with scholarly interest, "they might actually appreciate having a properly socialized Nundu around—natural allies against anything that might threaten the forest's stability."
The conversation was interrupted by the subtle chiming of Newt's pocket watch, indicating that the morning was progressing toward afternoon and reminding everyone that important decisions needed to be made regarding the next steps in this unprecedented situation.
"Which brings us," Fleamont said with diplomatic directness, settling back in his chair with the sort of focused attention that indicated they were approaching the crucial aspects of their discussion, "to the question of official recommendations for Hogwarts attendance."
The room fell silent with the sort of expectant attention that accompanied truly significant moments, while Hadrian's hand unconsciously moved to rest on Aslan's head in a gesture that suggested he was drawing comfort from their connection.
"Newton," Fleamont continued with respectful formality, "your professional endorsement would carry enormous weight with both the Hogwarts administration and the Board of Governors. Without it, I suspect our chances of gaining approval for Aslan's attendance would be... negligible."
"What specific precautions would you recommend to make his presence at the school safe for everyone involved?" Tina asked with the sort of practical focus that came from years of managing complex magical situations, "And what ongoing monitoring or support would be necessary to ensure continued success?"
Newt was quiet for several long moments, his gentle eyes moving between Hadrian and Aslan while his mind clearly worked through the various implications and possibilities. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the sort of careful consideration that indicated he was choosing his words with particular precision.
"From a purely professional standpoint," he began with scholarly deliberation, "I can say with complete confidence that Hadrian and Aslan represent the most successful magical creature familiar bond I have ever observed. The magical stability, emotional compatibility, and mutual understanding they've achieved is not just unprecedented—it's actually superior to most conventional familiar relationships."
"But?" Sirius prompted, recognizing the diplomatic tone that suggested additional considerations were coming.
"But," Newt continued with gentle honesty, "the practical challenges of integrating a Nundu into a school environment are considerable, and the consequences of any problems would be... significant."
He stood and began pacing with the sort of restless energy that indicated his mind was working through complex theoretical possibilities, "The safety protocols would need to be comprehensive and carefully maintained. Specialized accommodations, dietary arrangements, exercise programs, emergency procedures, regular health monitoring, and probably most importantly, ongoing education for staff and students about appropriate interaction protocols."
"That sounds manageable," Narcissa observed with practical optimism, "challenging, but not impossible with proper planning and resources."
"The real question," Newt said with increasing focus, "is whether the Hogwarts administration and the Board of Governors can be convinced that the educational benefits outweigh the perceived risks."
"Educational benefits?" Andromeda asked with obvious curiosity.
"Having a successfully bonded Nundu at the school would revolutionize magical creature education," Newt explained with growing enthusiasm, "students would have the opportunity to observe and learn from direct interaction with one of the most misunderstood species in the magical world. The lessons in empathy, responsibility, and interspecies cooperation would be invaluable."
"Plus," James added with characteristic insight, "it would demonstrate that even the most supposedly dangerous creatures can coexist peacefully with humans when approached with proper understanding and respect."
"Exactly," Newt agreed with obvious satisfaction, "which could have profound implications for magical creature rights and conservation efforts worldwide."
"So you'll write the letter of recommendation?" Hadrian asked with barely contained hope, his voice carrying the sort of careful control that suggested he was trying not to appear too eager while simultaneously recognizing that his entire future might depend on this decision.
"Actually," Newt said with a slight smile, "I think this situation is too important for mere correspondence. Rather than writing a letter, I'd prefer to speak with Albus directly—and with Professor McGonagall, since she witnessed the bonding process firsthand."
"Direct consultation would certainly carry more weight than written recommendations," Fleamont agreed with obvious relief, "and it would allow for detailed discussion of the practical arrangements that would be necessary."
"However," Newt continued with diplomatic precision, "I would be happy to write a formal letter to the Board of Governors, outlining my professional assessment and recommendations for safety protocols. Official documentation will be essential for their decision-making process."
"And your assessment would be positive?" Tina asked with gentle directness, though her expression suggested she already knew the answer.
"Enthusiastically positive," Newt confirmed with genuine warmth, "not only do I believe Aslan can attend Hogwarts safely, I believe his presence there would benefit both the educational environment and the advancement of magical creature understanding in general."
The relief that swept through the room was almost palpable, with all six children exchanging glances that mixed excitement with satisfaction, while Fleamont's expression showed the sort of pleased recognition that came from seeing careful planning produce successful results.
"There is one additional consideration," Newt added with thoughtful seriousness, "the success of this arrangement will depend heavily on Hadrian's continued development as a magical creature caretaker. The responsibility is considerable, and it will only increase as Aslan grows."
"I understand," Hadrian replied with mature sincerity, "and I'm prepared for whatever that involves. Aslan isn't just my familiar—he's my partner and my responsibility, and I won't let him down."
"I believe you," Newt said with gentle approval, "and I believe this remarkable partnership will prove that some of our most fundamental assumptions about magical creature compatibility need to be reconsidered entirely."
As the conversation began winding toward practical arrangements for the Hogwarts consultation and the preparation of official documentation, everyone in the room shared a sense that they had witnessed something truly historic—not just the assessment of an unusual familiar bond, but potentially the beginning of a new era in magical creature relations.
Outside the windows of Potter Manor, the afternoon sun cast longer shadows across the ancient grounds, while somewhere in the distance, the sound of birdsong seemed to carry notes of celebration for the extraordinary developments unfolding within those comfortable walls.
---
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