Chapter 133: Niffler Ginger, How To Raise a Dragon
Leonardo was dangling a small, mole‑like creature by the scruff.
The young Niffler's tiny paws were scrabbling frantically, stuffing something into the pouch on its belly.
"I am terribly sorry," Newt said with an awkward smile, taking the Niffler from Leonardo. "Ginger is still very young. Curiosity is at its peak…"
He pinched Ginger gently by the back of the neck and with his other hand tickled the soft fur of its stomach.
Unable to bear the itching, the Niffler twisted and squeaked, little limbs flailing as piece after piece of gold and silver tumbled out of its pouch.
Leonardo was quick enough to snatch the Pathway Expansion Stele from the air and saw that the surface of the stone already bore the Niffler's likeness and mapped pathways.
Good. He'd caught that in time.
"Ginger?" he asked, eyeing the steady stream of treasures. "Its fur really is unusual."
Most Nifflers were black, with the odd grey or pale blue coat here and there. This one, though, was pure white‑gold from nose to tail, not a speck of another colour. It was strikingly pretty.
Newt cupped Ginger in both hands. The little creature kept trying to fling itself down to scoop up the scattered treasure again.
Leonardo and Newt both laughed, and Newt said, "Ginger is descended from an old friend of mine. Its colouring is rare, you are right. Out in the wild, it would draw the wrong sort of attention from less scrupulous wizards. On top of that, it is not very robust. I mean to keep it with me."
Leonardo drew out a Galleon and held it up. Ginger's dark eyes locked on the coin at once. It reached out with both paws, desperate to grab it.
Watching him tease the Niffler with a smile, Newt suddenly said, "Leonardo, would you like to try keeping a Niffler yourself?"
"You mean Ginger?"
"Yes. If you are willing."
Leonardo considered for a moment. He had recorded the pathways of many magical creatures with the Stele, but being able to study one at close quarters over time would reveal far more detail. Clearly,
Newt trusted him; at their first meeting, he was already offering him a Niffler.
Raising one would not be hard. And…
He stopped toying with Ginger and simply offered the Galleon. The Niffler hugged the coin to its chest at once and stuffed it into its pouch.
Nifflers really were adorable.
"If anything should trouble me while I am looking after Ginger, I will ask you directly," Leonardo said.
At that, Newt's smile widened and he passed the Niffler over.
Leonardo cradled Ginger carefully and, with his free hand, began pulling Galleons from his pocket one by one, handing them down. The little creature accepted each shining coin happily and tucked it away.
Galleons are a bit monotonous, though, he thought. A letter to Aunt Penelope might be in order. A few varied gold and silver trinkets would not go amiss.
"By the way, Mr Scamander," he said, "if one wanted to raise a dragon, what would one need to prepare? What should you pay attention to?"
Newt took it as a boy's fantasy. Dragons were as fantastical as magical creatures came. For Muggles, they were the stuff of legend. Most Muggles who had ever seen a magical creature had seen a dragon. Even with Obliviators working full‑time, some always slipped through the net. Stories spread.
An interest in beasts was a fine thing, though, so he did not hold back.
"It is not permitted for a wizard to keep a dragon alone," he said. "But if you were to work at a dragon reserve, then yes, you would need to know a few things.
"Dragon eggs must be hatched in fire. When the hatchling emerges, it needs to swallow a flame, usually one of its parents'.
"If humans are overseeing the process, Brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour will do. It strengthens the hatchling's resistance to disease.
"Even with a newborn, you will want to cast Fire‑Proofing Charms on yourself. Their breath is enough to burn through…"
Leonardo stored every point away. Before long, he would be raising a dragon himself, and it needed to grow into the king of its kind if he meant to repay the Magical Pathway Weavecraft loan.
That meant starting from the shell. From birth, he would safeguard the hatchling's health and help it thrive.
Newt's experience was priceless. He could always write later to ask more. And then there was Ron. Ron's brother Charlie was already a dragon handler. He would have plenty of insights.
With such a contact, bringing his dragon along to subdue its kin would be easier later.
And Malfoy—his family owned a dragon reserve. If possible, arranging an early visit to look around and prepare would not hurt.
Once the talk of dragons wound down, Leonardo asked in detail about Niffler care. Newt, reassured by his careful questions, went over diet, nesting, and the rest.
"Oh, yes," he added. "Ginger has a little quirk. It likes the moon. Full moons in particular."
Leonardo nodded. "Understood. I keep a Mooncalf as well. They can keep each other company."
Fond of the moon?
Because the moon shone too, brushing the Niffler's instincts?
An amusing thought.
Leonardo scratched Ginger's belly. The feel of the soft fur under his fingers was unexpectedly good, warm, and plush.
The old magizoologist and young wizard talked on, and time slipped by.
Suddenly, Newt slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh, no. I forgot to tell Tina before I left. When I get back, I am going to…"
He snapped the case shut in a flurry. "Leonardo, I must dash. See you in the summer."
…
The bell rang.
Leonardo sat in Defence Against the Dark Arts, watching Quirrell stammer his way through the text on the dais.
The professor's face was still bloodless, but not as gaunt as before. His voice had grown a fraction stronger.
Both his hands were covered with black gloves. The students paid it little mind. Quirrell had always been odd: purple turban wrapped around his head, reeking of garlic.
Leonardo, though, noticed that Quirrell's right arm hung at his side most of the time. He held the book almost exclusively in his left.
He slipped the Peeking Fiend's Eye open, letting faint vortices bloom in his gaze, and looked into Quirrell's pathways.
Oh?
The withering at the ends of his circuits had stopped.
Unicorn blood?
Aurelius had recalled that Quirrell's robes had been splashed with a great deal of Asterion's blood. It seemed that later, he had drunk it after all.
Even so…
Leonardo's eyes narrowed. A faint dark haze clung to Quirrell's pathways and crept slowly toward his heart.
The curse of unicorn blood. A half‑life, half‑death torment.
The circuits in his left arm were dim and thin. The limb had been regrown with Dark magic, but there were limits.
Aurelius had burned it away, and Quirrell had gone further still, severing his own arm to flee.
Leonardo watched the professor behave as if all were normal and remembered the private talk Dumbledore had called him to after Newt's departure.
The Headmaster's stance had not changed. He believed matters were still under control and wanted Harry to have his growth and his adventure.
There was no moving him. The prophecy weighed there: the boy who lived would defeat Voldemort.
But Leonardo also remembered what Firenze, master of centaur prophecy, had once told him. That he could change the fate of others.
So.
How best to get rid of Lord Voldemort?