Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

Winter was harsh that year, the weather was cold biting and relentless. David spent his days training with Newt, his progress in magic remarkable under his grandfather's tutelage. Newt's decades of combat experience proved invaluable, and David's talent and dedication left the old wizard both impressed and puzzled.

One crisp morning, Tina was unusually cheerful, bustling around the house as she prepared for a trip to the Wizard Market to do shopping for Christmas. She hummed while cooking breakfast, nudging Newt to tidy himself up.

"David, want to join us?" she asked.

David, however, was curled up on the sofa near the fireplace, basking in its warmth. The thought of stepping into the freezing outdoors was unappealing. "I'll stay here," he replied, pulling his blanket tighter. "But could you bring me some chocolate balls and pralines?"

"Of course," Tina said with a smile.

After they left, David, feeling the weight of the solitude, fetched one of Newt's journals to pass the time. He was deep into a fascinating passage when the door burst open with a loud crash. Startled, he turned to see Hobby, the family's clever and spirited kneazel, darting inside.

Hobby was frantic, his movements wild as he dashed from room to room, meowing urgently. David noticed scratches on Hobby's head and back, signs of a recent scuffle.

"Hobby, what's wrong? Is something out there?" David asked.

Hobby stopped, his golden eyes locking onto David. He grabbed David's trouser leg with his teeth and tugged, urging him to follow. Seeing the animal's desperation, David quickly donned his coat and followed him outside, Millie and Moller, the other two kneazles, trailing behind.

The cold hit him like a wall, but David pressed on, trailing behind Hobby through the snow-covered forest. The deeper they went, the more tangled the terrain became, with massive roots crisscrossing the ground beneath a canopy of frost-laden branches.

After what felt like an eternity, David heard a commotion ahead. Hobby was standing defensively on a tree trunk, his fur bristling, growling at a group of ominous-looking birds circling above. The creatures, dark green with sparse feathers and vulture-like features, emitted sorrowful cries. David recognized them from Newt's notes: Augureys, also known as "mourning birds."

Behind Hobby, nestled in a hollow within the tree, David spotted six tiny fairies. Their delicate wings shimmered in various hues—transparent, blue, and patterned—but they were huddled in fear, their fragile bodies trembling.

David pieced it together. The Augureys were starving, and the fairies, too weak and few to defend themselves, were their prey. Hobby must have stumbled upon the scene and intervened.

"Hobby," David called. "You want me to help them, don't you?"

Hobby let out a sharp meow as if to say, "Of course!" Millie and Moller joined him, forming a protective barrier. Meanwhile, the Augureys flapped their wings threateningly, unwilling to give up their meal.

David faced a dilemma. Rescuing the fairies would go against the natural order of predator and prey, something Newt had always emphasized. Yet leaving them to their fate felt cruel, especially with Hobby standing his ground.

After a moment of thought, David had an idea. "Hold on, Hobby!" he shouted and sprinted back toward the house.

He returned with a pouch of insects, food he knew Augureys would eat. Carefully, he laid the insects on the ground a safe distance away and called out to the birds, mimicking their mournful cries.

The Augureys paused their circling, their hollow eyes scanning him warily. They exchanged hesitant cries before descending cautiously to inspect the offering. One by one, they pecked at the food, their hunger overtaking their caution.

David exhaled in relief. "Enjoy your meal!" he called to the birds as they finished and soared into the forest with a few grateful caws.

With the threat gone, David turned to the fairies. They cautiously emerged from the hollow, their tiny faces still etched with fear. Two of them were injured, their wings torn and their arms bleeding. David gently placed them inside his coat and hat for warmth and hurried back to the house, Hobby, Millie, and Moller following closely.

The warmth of the fireplace greeted them as David placed the fairies in a small, cushioned box. Carefully, he treated their wounds with the salves and potions he'd seen Newt use countless times. The fairies stared up at him with wide, grateful eyes, and even Hobby seemed proud.

"Don't worry," David whispered to the fairies, smiling softly. "You're safe now."

As the winter wind howled outside, the little group settled by the fire, the room glowing with the warmth of life and kindness.