Inside the Magical Menagerie, the children immediately dispersed into gleeful exploration with the sort of enthusiasm that suggested they had been waiting their entire lives for this opportunity. James darted toward a display of baby barn owls with obvious fascination, his natural leadership instincts immediately engaging as he began analyzing the various options with strategic precision.
Sirius became momentarily distracted by a Fire Salamander that was attempting to set its terrarium ablaze through sheer force of will, his rebellious nature clearly drawn to creatures that shared his appreciation for creative chaos.
"Look at that little arsonist," he said with obvious admiration, "It's got style and commitment to its artistic vision."
"It's trying to escape by burning down its enclosure," Narcissa observed with logical precision.
"Exactly!" Sirius declared with delighted recognition, "A creature after my own heart!"
Regulus lingered thoughtfully near a cage containing sleek black Kneazles whose narrow eyes and calculating expressions suggested they shared his appreciation for strategic thinking and careful analysis. His ethereal features showed the sort of serious consideration that suggested he was evaluating potential familiars based on intellectual compatibility rather than mere aesthetic appeal.
"They look like they're planning something sophisticated," he murmured with obvious approval, "Something that would require multiple steps and careful timing."
"They're cats, Regulus," Andromeda pointed out with gentle amusement, "they're probably planning to knock things off shelves and then look innocent about it."
"Sophisticated chaos is still sophisticated," he replied with dignified conviction.
Meanwhile, the girls had clustered around a display of magical butterflies whose wings shifted through colors that didn't exist in ordinary nature, their voices rising in excited discussion about the theoretical applications of chromatic magic in familiar bonds.
"The color changes are obviously emotional indicators," Bellatrix was explaining with passionate intensity, "which means they could serve as empathic amplifiers for their bonded wizards!"
"Or they could just be pretty," Alice suggested with gentle practicality, though her tone indicated she found Bellatrix's theoretical approach fascinating rather than excessive.
"Pretty is fine," Bellatrix conceded, "but pretty with practical applications is better!"
Hadrian stood quietly in the center of the shop's chaos, letting the magical atmosphere settle around him like morning mist. There was something about the concentrated magical energy of so many creatures in one place that felt oddly familiar—not from his previous life, but from something deeper and more fundamental in his magical nature.
He moved through the aisles slowly and deliberately, letting instinct guide him rather than conscious decision-making. Past cages containing fairy foxes whose fur sparkled with their own light, over singing vines that hummed lullabies in harmonious choirs, around tanks of glittering serpents whose scales formed patterns that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles.
And then, quite suddenly, something tugged at the edge of his magical awareness—a low, almost imperceptible hum that seemed to resonate in his bones rather than his ears.
Following this strange summons, he found himself drawn toward the back corner of the shop, where a privacy enchantment so subtle that most visitors would miss it entirely concealed something that was clearly meant to be hidden from casual observation.
There, shrouded in what appeared to be genuine moonlight despite the complete absence of windows or skylights, sat a cage containing a creature unlike anything he had ever seen before.
No larger than a substantial house cat, its fur shimmered like dusk spun with silver thread, while its eyes held the deep, stormy grey of thunderclouds pregnant with lightning. When it looked at Hadrian, there was no fear or hunger in its gaze—only a profound sense of recognition that seemed to bypass conscious thought and speak directly to something fundamental in his magical core.
"What is it?" Alice asked with breathless wonder, having noticed his sudden stillness and followed him to investigate.
"I have absolutely no idea," Hadrian replied softly, his voice carrying the sort of awed uncertainty that suggested he was witnessing something unprecedented.
As if summoned by their attention, a brass plaque materialized on the cage with elegant script that seemed to write itself as they watched:
Nundu Cub — Extremely Rare. Handle With Caution. Or Preferably, Don't Handle At All. Seriously. We Mean It.
Sirius appeared beside them with characteristic dramatic timing, letting out a low whistle of impressed recognition, "Well," he said with obvious admiration, "you certainly don't do anything by halves, do you? You just had to find the adorable murder kitten with apocalyptic potential."
His storm-grey eyes danced with the sort of mischievous delight that suggested he found Hadrian's attraction to dangerous creatures entirely appropriate for someone destined to attend Hogwarts.
"What's a Nundu?" James asked with immediate curiosity, joining their small group with natural leadership instincts that made him assume responsibility for understanding any potentially significant situation.
"Magical creature from East Africa," Regulus replied with scholarly precision, having approached with his characteristic quiet observation skills, "Adult Nundus are classified as XXXXX by the Ministry—they're considered among the most dangerous magical creatures in existence."
"How dangerous exactly?" Alice asked with the sort of careful attention that suggested she was evaluating whether they should all be taking several steps backward.
"Their breath is toxic enough to kill entire villages," Regulus continued with academic thoroughness, "and their hide is virtually impervious to most magical spells. It typically requires a minimum of one hundred skilled wizards working in coordination to subdue a fully grown Nundu."
"And you found a baby one," Sirius said to Hadrian with delighted amazement, "hidden in the back of a pet shop like it's waiting for exactly the right person to come along."
"It does appear to be waiting," Hadrian admitted with growing wonder, watching as the cub moved to the edge of its enclosure and pressed its small nose against the enchanted glass. The mysterious humming sound grew louder—not audibly, but as a resonance that seemed to echo through his magical core.
"Look at its eyes," Bellatrix breathed with the sort of reverent fascination she usually reserved for particularly complex magical theory, "It's not looking at him like he's a potential threat or food source. It's looking at him like... like it recognizes him."
"Familiar bonds," Andromeda murmured with elegant understanding, "they're supposed to be based on mutual recognition and magical compatibility. If the creature is responding to him this strongly..."
"Then they're meant to be together," Alice finished with gentle certainty, "regardless of how dangerous it might become eventually."
The adults had noticed the commotion and were approaching with various expressions of curiosity, concern, and resigned recognition that somehow their simple familiar-selection expedition had become significantly more complicated.
"What have you found?" Dorea asked with maternal warmth, though her eyes widened slightly when she saw the brass plaque and its ominous warnings.
"A Nundu cub," McGonagall said with the sort of crisp precision that suggested she was already calculating the administrative implications, "which presents certain... challenges... for a Hogwarts familiar."
"Challenges?" Charlus asked with heroic composure, though his hand moved instinctively to his wand.
"Adult Nundus are classified as unsuitable for domestic keeping," McGonagall explained with professional authority, "their magical signature alone can be overwhelming for most wizards, and their protective instincts make them... problematic... in educational environments."
"But this is a cub," Euphemia pointed out with maternal logic, "and it's clearly bonding with Hadrian specifically."
"Familiar bonds are sacred," Arcturus added with quiet authority, his analytical mind clearly working through the theoretical implications, "and if the creature has chosen him naturally, interfering could have serious consequences for both of them."
Hadrian reached forward slowly, his grey eyes fixed on the small creature with growing certainty. The moment his fingers touched the enchanted glass, it shimmered and dissolved like morning mist, leaving nothing between them except mutual recognition and growing trust.
The Nundu cub stepped into his arms with the sort of dignified confidence that suggested it had always known this moment would come, settling against his chest with a rumbling purr that sounded like distant thunder wrapped in velvet.
"Well," Dorea said with maternal satisfaction, "it appears the choice has been made."
"What will you name him?" Alice asked with gentle curiosity.
Hadrian looked down at the small creature nestled trustingly in his arms, its storm-grey eyes meeting his with perfect understanding.
"Aslan," he said with quiet certainty, remembering Alice's earlier suggestion about noble names for noble creatures.
The cub's purr deepened with obvious approval, and everyone present could feel the subtle shift in magical energy that indicated a true familiar bond had just formed.
"Aslan," Bellatrix repeated with breathless wonder, "like the great lion from the Muggle stories. The one who represents hope and courage and sacrifice."
"He likes it," Alice observed with gentle satisfaction, "you can see it in his eyes."
"Well then," Charlus said with paternal authority and obvious pride, "I suppose we should discuss the practical arrangements with Mr. Fortescue and Professor McGonagall."
As the adults moved away to handle the complex negotiations involved in purchasing an extremely rare and potentially dangerous magical creature for an eleven-year-old, the children remained clustered around Hadrian and his new familiar.
"This is absolutely brilliant," Sirius declared with explosive enthusiasm, "you're going to have the most interesting seven years in Hogwarts history!"
"Interesting is one way to put it," Narcissa observed with elegant understatement, though her eyes showed genuine admiration for both the creature and Hadrian's obvious connection to it.
"He's beautiful," Alice said with gentle sincerity, reaching out slowly to stroke Aslan's silky fur, "and he clearly adores you already."
Hadrian felt a profound sense of completion as he held the small creature, surrounded by friends who accepted both him and his unusual familiar without question or fear. For the first time since arriving in this timeline, he felt genuinely hopeful that maybe—just maybe—he could create a future where these bright, passionate children never encountered the darkness that had defined his previous life.
*This is what I'm fighting for,* he realized with crystal clarity, *not just to prevent a war, but to protect this—friendship, trust, innocence, hope.*
Aslan purred his agreement, and the afternoon sunlight streaming through the Magical Menagerie's windows seemed to promise endless possibilities ahead.
—
As the adults concluded their complex negotiations with the surprisingly well-informed shop proprietor—who had apparently been expecting someone to eventually claim the Nundu cub for several months and had prepared extensive documentation with the sort of obsessive thoroughness that suggested either remarkable foresight or concerning levels of preparation for extremely unlikely scenarios—Professor McGonagall approached their small cluster with her characteristic expression of scholarly determination tempered by the sort of practical concern that came from decades of managing magically gifted children with questionable judgment.
Her elegant bearing commanded immediate attention even from the most distracted eleven-year-olds, and there was something in her crystalline gaze that suggested she was already calculating the administrative complexity of what they were about to propose.
"Mr. Potter," she said with crisp authority that could have cut through steel, though her piercing eyes showed genuine warmth as she observed the obvious bond between Hadrian and his new familiar, "while I'm personally convinced that this represents a genuine familiar bond of considerable magical significance, the practical matter of bringing a Nundu to Hogwarts will require... extensive consultation with various educational authorities and probably several forms in triplicate."
Aslan chose that precise moment to demonstrate his impeccable sense of dramatic timing by rolling onto his back in Hadrian's arms with completely shameless kitten-like abandon, playfully batting at a shaft of sunlight filtering through the window with movements so utterly adorable that several nearby adults made involuntary cooing sounds that they would undoubtedly deny making if questioned later.
"He certainly doesn't look particularly threatening at the moment," Charlus observed with paternal amusement and the sort of heroic composure that suggested he had faced down actual dragons but found baby magical creatures somehow more daunting, though his experienced warrior's eye noted the way the cub's every movement carried an underlying grace that suggested considerable power held in careful restraint. "More like a very expensive house cat with delusions of grandeur."
"All cats have delusions of grandeur," Sirius declared with passionate conviction, his storm-grey eyes dancing with mischief as he gestured dramatically, "it's part of their essential nature. The difference is that this one has the magical capacity to actually achieve world domination if he puts his mind to it."
"Don't give him ideas," James warned with mock seriousness, though his hazel eyes were bright with laughter, "we don't need Hadrian's familiar plotting to take over the school before we even get there."
"Too late," Regulus observed with the sort of ethereal wisdom that seemed oddly profound coming from a nine-year-old, his delicate features showing thoughtful analysis, "look at his eyes. He's already calculating which professors would be easiest to manipulate and which dormitories have the best strategic positions."
"He's a baby," Alice protested with gentle laughter, her warm features glowing with affection as she watched Aslan's continued assault on the innocent sunbeam, "he's not plotting anything more sophisticated than his next nap."
"You underestimate the strategic complexity of feline thinking," Narcissa replied with elegant precision, smoothing her platinum hair with unconscious grace, "cats are natural tacticians. They simply disguise their intelligence behind adorable behaviors and purring."
"That's terrifying," Bellatrix said with delighted fascination, her dark eyes sparkling with intellectual excitement, "imagine if all the cats in the world were secretly working together to overthrow human civilization! They'd probably start by making us dependent on their cuteness, then gradually assume control of our food supplies and sleeping arrangements until—"
"Bella," Andromeda interrupted with the sort of elegant exasperation that suggested she had considerable experience preventing her younger sister's theoretical discussions from spiraling into elaborate conspiracy theories, "not every animal behavior is part of a complex plot for species domination."
"How do you know?" Bellatrix demanded with wounded dignity, "has anyone actually asked them? Maybe they've been trying to communicate their revolutionary intentions for centuries, but we've been too focused on head scratches and treat distribution to notice!"
"Sister dear," Narcissa said with crystalline amusement, "if cats were planning to overthrow human civilization, they would have succeeded already. They're far too intelligent to waste centuries on elaborate schemes when direct action would be more efficient."
"Unless," Regulus added with characteristic strategic thinking, his delicate features showing genuine consideration, "the elaborate scheme is more entertaining than direct action. Some personalities prefer complexity for its own sake."
"Are we seriously having a philosophical debate about feline political motivations?" James asked with incredulous laughter.
"This is actually fascinating," Alice said with gentle enthusiasm, "I never thought about familiar bonds from the perspective of interspecies communication and mutual understanding."
"Nundu cubs are deceptively charming," McGonagall interrupted with academic precision before the discussion could evolve into a full theoretical analysis of magical creature sociology, "which is precisely why adult supervision and expert guidance will be essential for everyone's safety and Hadrian's educational development. However, I believe I know exactly the person we need to consult."
Her expression shifted to one of satisfied recognition, as if she had just solved a particularly complex Transfiguration equation that had been bothering her for weeks, "Newton Scamander."
"The Newton Scamander?" Euphemia asked with explosive excitement, her elegant features lighting up with the sort of enthusiasm usually reserved for meeting genuine celebrities or discovering new potion ingredients, "The author of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'? The wizard who single-handedly revolutionized magizoology and probably saved dozens of species from extinction?"
"Wait," Sirius said with sudden dramatic realization, his storm-grey eyes widening, "you mean we might get to meet the actual Newt Scamander? The legend? The man who has a personal relationship with creatures that could incinerate entire cities?"
"Don't get overexcited," Walburga commanded with maternal authority and the sort of cutting precision that could slice through steel, though her sharp features showed a flicker of amusement at her eldest son's obvious hero worship, "Mr. Scamander is a serious professional with important responsibilities. He's not a performer here for your entertainment."
"But he is incredibly accomplished," Sirius protested with passionate conviction, "and meeting him would be educational! That's what we're supposed to be doing—expanding our knowledge through exposure to experts in various magical fields!"
"You're supposed to be learning basic magical theory and fundamental spellwork," she replied with aristocratic disapproval, "not pestering internationally recognized experts with endless questions about dangerous creatures."
"Questions demonstrate intellectual curiosity," Bellatrix declared with explosive enthusiasm, bouncing slightly in her excitement, "and intellectual curiosity is the foundation of all meaningful magical advancement! If we don't ask questions, how are we supposed to learn anything beyond what's written in textbooks?"
"Textbooks exist for excellent reasons," Druella observed with maternal wisdom and elegant composure, her refined features showing the sort of diplomatic patience that came from years of managing passionate daughters, "they contain information that has been carefully organized and presented in age-appropriate formats."
"But real learning happens through direct experience and personal interaction with experts," Bellatrix countered with intellectual passion, "textbooks can only provide theoretical knowledge, but practical application requires mentorship and hands-on observation!"
"The girl has a point," Arcturus said with quiet authority and analytical precision, his commanding presence adding weight to his words, "theoretical knowledge without practical application is merely academic exercise. True understanding requires synthesis of multiple learning approaches."
"See?" Bellatrix said with triumphant satisfaction, "Grandfather agrees that we need diverse educational experiences!"
"I agree that learning should be comprehensive," he corrected with paternal firmness, "I did not agree to let you interrogate Mr. Scamander about the theoretical applications of dragon breeding or whatever other potentially hazardous subjects have captured your imagination recently."
"The very same Newt Scamander," McGonagall confirmed with evident satisfaction, ignoring the family discussion with professional focus, "and not only is he the foremost magizoologist of our time, but he's also maintained a close personal friendship with Professor Dumbledore for several decades. A letter of recommendation from Newt Scamander regarding the suitability of Hadrian's familiar would carry considerable weight with both the Headmaster and the Board of Governors."
"That's absolutely brilliant," James said with obvious admiration and natural leadership enthusiasm, "if anyone would know how to handle a Nundu cub safely, it would be the wizard who literally wrote the definitive reference book on magical creatures!"
"More importantly," Sirius added with characteristic insight that occasionally surprised people who underestimated him based on his tendency toward dramatic gestures, "if Scamander says it's safe, then everyone else will automatically believe it's safe. Authority by reputation and demonstrated expertise."
"Precisely," McGonagall agreed with professional approval, her crystalline gaze showing satisfaction at his strategic understanding, "though I suspect his assessment will be based on genuine expertise rather than mere reputation or professional courtesy."
"Obviously," Regulus said with ethereal precision and the sort of quiet intelligence that made adults occasionally forget he was only nine years old, "Mr. Scamander's professional reputation depends on accurate assessments. He wouldn't risk his credibility by endorsing something genuinely dangerous just to be accommodating."
"That's very mature reasoning," Alice observed with gentle admiration, her warm features showing genuine respect for his analytical thinking.
"Regulus is annoyingly logical for someone who's barely old enough to read advanced magical theory," Sirius declared with brotherly pride disguised as complaint, "it's actually quite impressive when it's not making the rest of us look impulsive by comparison."
"You are impulsive," Narcissa pointed out with elegant accuracy, "that's not a comparison issue, that's just factual observation."
"Impulsive people get things done," Sirius replied with wounded dignity, "while careful people spend so much time planning that they miss opportunities for action."
"Impulsive people also accidentally set things on fire," Andromeda observed with fond amusement, her elegant bearing carrying the sort of sisterly wisdom that came from years of observing family dynamics.
"That was one time!" Sirius protested with passionate indignation.
"It was three times," Regulus corrected with characteristic precision, "and that's just since last Christmas."
"The Christmas incident doesn't count," Sirius declared with defensive authority, "that was clearly a case of decorative malfunction rather than personal error."
"You tried to improve the Christmas tree with experimental color-changing charms," Walburga pointed out with cutting accuracy, "without reading the spell instructions or considering potential side effects."
"The instructions were in Latin," he protested, "and Latin is unnecessarily complicated for simple decorative magic."
"Latin is the foundation of virtually all advanced magical theory," McGonagall said with academic authority, though her tone suggested she found this particular family dynamic mildly entertaining, "and learning to read spell instructions carefully is essential for avoiding catastrophic magical accidents."
"See?" Regulus said with satisfied superiority, "professional magical authorities agree that careful preparation prevents disasters."
"Professional magical authorities also believe in taking calculated risks when the potential benefits outweigh the dangers," Sirius countered with philosophical conviction, "otherwise nobody would ever discover anything new or interesting."
"There's a difference between calculated risks and reckless endangerment," Alice pointed out with gentle wisdom.
"The difference is usually whether things work out well or poorly," James added with cheerful pragmatism, "successful risks become 'bold innovation' while failed risks become 'obvious stupidity.'"
"That's a very cynical perspective on magical advancement," Bellatrix observed with intellectual fascination, "but probably historically accurate. How many magical discoveries were initially considered dangerous or inappropriate?"
"Most of them," Fleamont Potter said with strategic authority and the sort of sophisticated intelligence that had made him successful in both business ventures and complex family negotiations, stepping forward with quiet confidence. His distinguished bearing commanded immediate respect, and there was something about his presence that suggested he was accustomed to managing complicated situations with diplomatic skill.
"I'll write to Newt immediately," he declared with characteristic decisiveness, his refined features showing the sort of calculating precision that indicated he was already formulating a comprehensive strategy, "we've corresponded occasionally over the years regarding some of the more exotic ingredients in our potion-making processes. He's remarkably knowledgeable about magical creature byproducts and their applications in advanced brewing techniques."
His weathered hands moved with practiced grace as he gestured, "But I think we should also approach this from another strategic angle to ensure comprehensive support."
His intelligent eyes showed the sort of political awareness that suggested he understood the importance of building consensus among multiple authority figures, "Harfang Longbottom serves on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and he's been a close personal friend of mine since our own school days. If we can secure his political support along with Scamander's professional recommendation..."
"Who's Harfang Longbottom?" Alice asked with gentle curiosity, her warm features showing immediate interest in learning about another member of the magical community.
"Frank Longbottom's grandfather," Andromeda replied with elegant precision and the sort of social knowledge that came from growing up in interconnected pureblood families, "and one of the most respected members of the Wizengamot. When he endorses something, people listen and take notice."
"Frank Longbottom?" Hadrian asked with sudden sharp attention, his grey eyes focusing with the sort of intensity that suggested the name carried particular significance he wasn't entirely prepared to explain.
*Frank Longbottom,* he thought with complex emotions that he carefully kept hidden, *Alice's future husband, Neville's father. Another person whose life was destroyed by this war that I'm here to prevent.*
"He'll be starting Hogwarts this year as well," McGonagall explained with academic thoroughness, her crystalline gaze showing professional satisfaction at the educational opportunities this represented, "a remarkably talented young wizard from a family with a distinguished history of service to the magical community and public safety."
"That's absolutely perfect then," Bellatrix declared with passionate enthusiasm, bouncing slightly with excitement in a way that made her dark hair shine in the afternoon light, "if his grandfather supports the decision, then Frank will probably be interested in meeting Aslan too! We could have our own advanced magical creature study group before we even get to school!"
"Bella," Narcissa said with fond exasperation and crystalline precision, smoothing her platinum hair with unconscious grace, "not everyone shares your immediate fascination with dangerous magical creatures or your enthusiasm for forming study groups about potentially hazardous subjects."
"They should," Bellatrix replied with wounded dignity and passionate conviction, her dark eyes sparkling with intellectual fervor, "dangerous magical creatures are significantly more interesting than safe ones! Anyone with proper intellectual curiosity and genuine commitment to magical advancement would agree!"
"Your definition of 'proper intellectual curiosity' tends to involve things that can bite, sting, explode, or cause immediate mortal peril," Andromeda pointed out with sisterly accuracy and elegant amusement.
"What's your point?" Bellatrix asked with genuine confusion, as if this observation somehow supported her argument rather than undermining it, "dangerous things are inherently more educational because they require more complex understanding and careful handling!"
"The point," Dorea interrupted with maternal authority and the sort of commanding warmth that made everyone feel simultaneously valued and properly managed, though her tone showed obvious affection for the passionate young witch, "is that we need to ensure Hadrian's familiar will be welcomed at Hogwarts without causing unnecessary concern among the other students, their families, or the teaching staff."
Her elegant bearing radiated the sort of natural leadership that made others automatically defer to her judgment, "The last thing we want is for other parents to panic about their children's safety because they don't understand the nature of familiar bonds or the specific circumstances of this situation."
"Harfang's political endorsement would definitely help with that," Fleamont continued with strategic precision, his distinguished features showing the sort of diplomatic intelligence that indicated years of successful negotiation, "especially since the Longbottom family has an impeccable reputation for sound judgment regarding matters of magical education and student safety."
"Plus," Orion Black added with quiet authority and analytical precision, his commanding presence adding weight to the discussion, "Harfang's support would demonstrate that this isn't some impulsive family indulgence, but a serious decision endorsed by respected members of the magical community."
His dark eyes showed the sort of strategic thinking that had made him successful in complex political situations, "Public perception matters as much as actual safety when dealing with educational institutions and concerned parents."
"I'll arrange a meeting immediately," Fleamont declared with characteristic decisiveness, his refined hands moving with practiced authority, "perhaps we could have both Newt and Harfang assess Aslan together? Two expert opinions from different specializations would be better than one, and it would demonstrate that we're approaching this with appropriate seriousness and comprehensive analysis."
"That sounds like an excellent strategic plan," Charlus agreed with paternal satisfaction and heroic confidence, his broad shoulders radiating the sort of reassuring strength that made others feel safe simply by being in his presence, "though I suspect our young scholar here will need to be prepared to demonstrate the bond between himself and his familiar."
His warm eyes showed genuine pride as he looked at his grandson, "These sorts of assessments can be quite thorough, and they'll want to see evidence of genuine magical compatibility rather than simple affection."
Hadrian looked down at Aslan, who was now methodically grooming his silver-touched fur with the sort of dignified concentration that suggested he found the entire adult discussion mildly amusing but ultimately irrelevant to his personal priorities. The small creature's storm-grey eyes met his with perfect understanding, and he felt that familiar resonance of complete mutual recognition.
"What kind of demonstration?" he asked with practical curiosity and just a hint of nervousness that he tried to keep hidden.
"Nothing too intimidating," McGonagall assured him with professional warmth, though her crystalline gaze showed the sort of academic thoroughness that suggested she was already mentally organizing the assessment process, "familiar bonds create a distinctive magical resonance between wizard and creature that can be observed and measured by those with appropriate expertise."
She gestured with elegant precision, "You'll likely be asked to show how Aslan responds to your magical signature, whether he can sense your emotional state, and how effectively you can communicate with him through the bond. Basic compatibility demonstrations that any genuine familiar pair should be able to perform naturally."
"We can already do most of that," Hadrian replied with quiet confidence, gently scratching behind Aslan's ears and receiving an approving rumble of contentment in response that seemed to resonate through his chest, "he seems to understand what I'm thinking before I fully think it myself."
"That's a remarkably strong bond for such recent formation," Alice observed with gentle wonder, her warm features showing genuine amazement, "usually familiar connections take weeks or months to develop that level of intuitive communication and emotional resonance."
"Some bonds are simply meant to be," Arcturus said with quiet authority and analytical wisdom, his commanding presence adding weight to his words, "and attempting to interfere with genuine magical compatibility would be both foolish and potentially dangerous for everyone involved."
His experienced eyes showed the sort of deep understanding that came from decades of observing magical development, "True familiar bonds transcend ordinary magical theory—they represent something fundamental about magical identity and personal growth."
"Exactly!" Sirius declared with triumphant satisfaction and dramatic flair, his storm-grey eyes blazing with passionate conviction, "which means anyone who tries to separate them will have to deal with all of us! We're not going to let some bureaucratic nonsense destroy something this important!"
"Sirius," Walburga said with maternal warning and the sort of cutting precision that could slice through steel, though her tone lacked its usual razor-sharp edge, "while your loyalty is admirable and entirely appropriate, threatening members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors is not a practical approach to conflict resolution or political negotiation."
Her sharp features showed a flicker of pride beneath her aristocratic disapproval, "There are more sophisticated methods for achieving your objectives that don't involve public declarations of war against educational authorities."
"I wasn't threatening anyone," he protested with wounded innocence that didn't fool anyone present, his dramatic gestures emphasizing his point, "I was merely expressing our collective commitment to supporting our friend's happiness and magical development through unified action!"
"Your collective commitment sounded suspiciously like a declaration of war against the entire British magical education system," Regulus observed with characteristic precision and ethereal wisdom.
"Sometimes," Sirius replied with philosophical gravity that seemed oddly profound coming from an eleven-year-old with a tendency toward dramatic overstatement, "the two approaches are completely indistinguishable in their practical applications."
"That's a disturbing worldview," Alice pointed out with gentle concern, though her warm features showed she found his passionate loyalty rather endearing.
"That's a Gryffindor worldview," James corrected with obvious pride and natural leadership confidence, "we approach problems with passionate conviction and unwavering loyalty to our friends, regardless of potential obstacles or official disapproval!"
"You approach problems by charging directly at them without considering potential consequences or developing strategic alternatives," Narcissa observed with elegant accuracy and crystalline precision.
"What's the difference?" James asked with genuine curiosity and cheerful pragmatism, his hazel eyes dancing with humor.
"Strategy, planning, and sophisticated analysis," Regulus replied with dry precision and the sort of quiet intelligence that occasionally made adults forget his age, "Slytherins prefer to achieve victory through careful preparation, superior information, and strategic positioning rather than direct confrontation."
"That sounds like cheating," Sirius declared with mock indignation and theatrical outrage.
"That sounds like intelligence and practical effectiveness," Bellatrix countered with passionate conviction and intellectual fervor, "why would anyone choose the more difficult and potentially dangerous path when a more elegant solution achieves the same result with less risk?"
"Because the difficult path builds character, teaches resilience, and demonstrates courage," James replied with heroic conviction and natural leadership instincts, "and because you learn more about yourself when you have to overcome obstacles through personal determination rather than clever manipulation."
"Both approaches have significant merit," McGonagall interrupted with professional authority before the philosophical debate could escalate further, her crystalline gaze showing both amusement and recognition that this discussion could continue indefinitely, "and successful wizards learn to employ whichever strategy best serves their immediate goals and long-term objectives."
"Which brings us back to our immediate goal," Charlus said with paternal authority and heroic composure, "ensuring that Hadrian and Aslan can attend Hogwarts together without creating unnecessary complications or political difficulties."
"Leave that to us," Fleamont declared with confident authority and diplomatic precision, his distinguished bearing radiating competent leadership, "between Newt Scamander's professional expertise and Harfang Longbottom's political influence, we should be able to arrange appropriate permissions and public endorsements."
"How long will that take?" Hadrian asked with practical concern, unconsciously tightening his hold on Aslan as if afraid someone might try to separate them immediately, his grey eyes showing just a hint of anxiety.
"A few weeks at most," Fleamont assured him with gentle certainty and paternal confidence, "and in the meantime, you can spend time bonding with your familiar and learning about his specific care requirements and behavioral patterns."
"Mr. Fortescue has provided extensive documentation," McGonagall added with academic satisfaction, holding up a thick leather portfolio that seemed to contain several dozen pages of detailed instructions written in careful script, "including feeding schedules, exercise requirements, and preliminary training exercises designed to help young Nundus develop appropriate social behaviors and magical control."
"Training exercises?" Sirius asked with immediate interest and dramatic enthusiasm, practically vibrating with curiosity, "what kind of training exercises? Are we talking about basic obedience, or advanced magical creature psychology, or theoretical applications of familiar bonding techniques?"
"Nothing too elaborate or potentially hazardous," McGonagall replied with professional reassurance, though her crystalline gaze showed she appreciated his intellectual curiosity, "basic commands, magical signature recognition, socialization with humans and other magical creatures, and fundamental communication protocols. The sort of foundational education any familiar requires for successful integration into educational environments."
"That sounds absolutely fascinating," Bellatrix declared with explosive enthusiasm and intellectual passion, bouncing in her excitement, "can we help? I mean, if Hadrian doesn't mind having assistance, this could be an incredible learning opportunity for all of us!"
Her dark eyes sparkled with the sort of fervent curiosity that suggested she was already mentally organizing research projects, "We could study familiar bonding theory, magical creature behavior patterns, interspecies communication methods—it would be like having our own advanced magical research program!"
"I'd definitely appreciate the help," Hadrian replied with genuine gratitude and quiet warmth, his grey eyes showing relief at the prospect of having friends to share this experience, "especially since I have no practical experience with magical creatures beyond theoretical knowledge from books."
"None of us do," Alice pointed out with gentle honesty and warm encouragement, "but we can learn together and support each other through the process."
"Exactly!" James agreed with natural leadership enthusiasm and heroic confidence, "this will be like having our own advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts study group, except instead of defending against dark magic, we'll be learning about magical creature behavior and familiar bonding techniques!"
"That's not remotely the same thing," Narcissa observed with logical precision and elegant skepticism, though her tone suggested she found the enthusiasm rather charming.
"It's close enough for practical purposes," James replied with cheerful confidence and pragmatic reasoning, "the important part is that we're all working together to help our friend succeed and develop his magical abilities!"
"And if we happen to learn incredibly useful skills in the process," Regulus added with characteristic strategic thinking and ethereal wisdom, "then everyone benefits from the arrangement and gains valuable experience."
As the afternoon sunlight began to shift toward the golden tones of early evening, the small group of friends clustered around Hadrian and his remarkable new familiar, their voices rising in excited discussion as they made enthusiastic plans for study sessions, training exercises, and collaborative research into Nundu behavior patterns and familiar bonding theory.
Watching them with careful attention, the adults exchanged glances of mutual satisfaction mixed with carefully concealed concern about the complexity they were about to introduce into their children's educational experience.
"They're going to be quite a formidable force to reckon with at Hogwarts," Dorea murmured with maternal pride mixed with slight apprehension, her elegant features showing both excitement and worry about the adventures awaiting them.
"That," Charlus replied with paternal wisdom and heroic determination, his warm eyes showing complete confidence in their collective potential, "is precisely what I'm hoping for."
Aslan purred his agreement with a sound like distant thunder wrapped in velvet, and somehow the rumbling resonance carried a promise that the upcoming school year would be anything but ordinary—and possibly more extraordinary than any of them could imagine.
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Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!