REQUIEM - [h.p]

IV; ruffled feathers

| YEAR 4; CHAPTER ONE |
RUFFLED FEATHERS

     THE CHIRPING OF THE MORNING BIRDS PULLED HIM FROM HIS REVERIE. The wind blew softly, caressing everything in its path and whizzing passed his ears and he opened his eyes.

He tilted his head up, eyes squinting as the morning sun glared in his eyes before he promptly raised a hand to cover the blinding radiance of the giant star. The sky was, for the most part, clear. A fact that was still astounding him even though he's been sitting beneath the blue skies for at least a half-hour. It seems that Lady Luck was on his side for today. Tomorrow on the other hand... well, he'd just have to wait and see.

The cold breeze tickled his cheeks and he inhaled deeply when he caught the distinct smell of pastries. He smiled. Sometimes he forgot that his Guardian could bake during the first weeks back from Hogwarts. Though, when he did remember, it was more often than not, in the mornings where the biting cold was quickly ebbed by a fresh and warm scone or two. He would be lying if he said that such frivolities weren't the best moments of his summer.

With a huff, he slowly heaved himself up, mildly dispirited that he had to leave his resting place, but the feeling was quickly negated by the promise of warmth and food.

As he walked inside, he took a moment to rest his eyes on his Home. A title that, four years ago he would have been perplexed to even consider. Whimphrey's, while it was once his... home, or at least the place where he stayed and was given shelter and food, was not a Home. No, that title belonged to the abode of his Guardian and Mentor, Newt Scamander. The one place where he would belong even if the entirety of the World screamed at him that he did not - His very own Sanctuary and small allotted Paradise.

There was a small pause when he entered the kitchen followed by the sensation of his smile widening into a large grin that split his face from ear to ear.

"Ever heard of cleaning spells?" He called out. Though, his grin only widened further when he was replied to with an annoyed huff and irritated grumbling. Despite being the pinnacle of Hufflepuff stereotypes any other time of the day, Mr Scamander was most certainly not a morning person.

Speaking of the man... Newt's robes were completely stained with batter and flour, and the old man was sporting a rather large frown almost completely out of character for him that Edwyn nearly burst out laughing at the sight.

"Don't tell me you let Mauler back in the kitchen after what happened last time," Edwyn said, still grinning.

"It was a mistake I've made one last time," Mr Scamander groused, before waving his wand and nonverbally removing any remaining evidence that a mishap had even occurred.

Mauler, the most recent addition to their Home, was also a new source of liveliness to the usual mundanity of the small abode. The young Kneazle was as energetic as they came, and it was without a doubt one of the greatest and worst decisions his Guardian had made. The animal took an immediate liking to Scamander and while it did take a bit of coaxing and effort on his part, Mauler eventually warmed up to him as well. Though, he was beginning to think its capacity for friendship was capped given that any visitors frequent or otherwise couldn't get within an arm's reach of the Kneazle.