Mr. Scamander, I have a question. Where would I be able to find a Pigmy Puff? I've always been quite fond of them and I hear that they eat dust bunnies, so that'd be helpful when cleaning.
A… sorry, a what now? I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of that creature before.
(This one is a bit tricky, because sources show an article reporting on Pygmy Puffs in The New York Ghost in 1926, but also say that Fred and George Weasley were the original breeders of these creatures. I’ve decided to stick with the latter for this particular beastie. )
Request:Hey, I saw requests were open! I love your blog and I’ve been harboring this idea for a long time… Could you write a oneshot where you are friends with Newt but lost touch after his expulsion? You were an extremely talented witch but to everyone’s surprise, you became a classical pianist in the muggle and wizarding world. Newt showed up to a concert out of curiosity and saw you and the two of you confessed and kissed? Sorry if that made no sense and thank you!!
Notes: I’m baaaaaack, haha. Please enjoy this little story featuring an extraordinary piece of music, an extraordinary feeling, and an extraordinary person…you! (Please excuse the awfully cheesy title…it sounds like a high-school romance anime, hah.)
Music is a powerful form of magic. It forces the soul to feel and draws the heart out to dance.
Coming from one of those pure-blood families whose line stretched far into the fog of the past, whose pride sometimes bordered on arrogance, and whose expectations felt like a boulder carved perfectly to rest on your shoulders didn’t make your career choice smooth by any means.
You had sacrificed in nearly every aspect in your life to get to where you were now: backstage in a large concert hall. After an illustrious career at Hogwarts, where you excelled in nearly every class and became a prefect, you decided to become a concert pianist. Everyone had expected you to continue the family tradition of working in the Ministry. Your father, mother, and two elder brothers all enjoyed very high positions that demanded responsibility and intelligence and a very, very large amount of paperwork. You fell in love with the piano instead.
You could sometimes tell when wizards and witches would come to your shows. They’d wear their dress robes and throw you proud grins that said, “Yes, we know you. We know what you are.” They’d clap enthusiastically and hand you bouquets of flowers so large you could barely wrap your arms around them. For all the support you got from other magic folk, one group that never showed up was your family.