BROTHERHOOD ⟶ Harry Potter

Chapter Twenty-Four

Milo sat in his room with a bright smile on his face as he peered down at his hand. Centered in the palm of his hand was a small bowtruckle, glancing up at him as it crawled about, exploring the new territory. He definitely hadn't been expecting the extra "gift" in the parcel that had been specially delivered to him from Newt Scamander himself. The boy was absolutely beside himself with giddiness as he listened to the bowtruckle chirp. His mother obviously hadn't been anticipating the extra gift as well, only requesting the autograph book to the boy. She wasn't sure what to say when Milo asked her to keep the bowtruckle, initially, her answer being no. However, as soon as he looked to her with the bright expression and the hopeful look, she had no choice but to say yes. 

Now Milo was given the task of naming the little bowtruckle and he was having the hardest time as he was so easily distracted by everything the creature did. Newt had been kind enough to bookmark the page where the discussion of bowtruckles came up, even though there was no need, Milo had already memorized the several passages pertaining to the creature's habits. The one in his care wouldn't be like the ones in the Forbidden Forest though, he assumed that Newt had domesticated a few of them through the mated pairs he had collected over the years due to their habitats being destroyed by the population inflation.

Newt had carried one in his company for many years, a bowtruckle by the name of Pickett, in which he wrote fondly of in many of his works. They were gentle creatures unless they felt threatened, then they were known to be quite vicious. They were an XX class beast, which probably led to Minerva's hesitation about the boy keeping it. But Newt was known to be very level headed and would never put a creature or person in harm's way. If he believed Milo and the bowtruckle would make a good pair, it was probably for good reason.

"You now, once we get to the castle, we'll have to be extra careful," Milo said, " there are loads of people and we wouldn't want you getting hurt. So you'll have to..."

His voice trailed off as the bowtruckle crawled up his arm, using the long and thin limbs. He made his way all the up to Milo's hair and seemed to bury himself in the boy's dark locks before letting out a small chirp. 

"Well, that could certainly work. But we still need to come up with a name for you," Milo said standing up from his bed and pacing back and forth. The bowtruckle peeked out from Milo's hair and looked around the room as Milo pondered out loud.

"What about Thatcher? It's a- OW!" Apparently, the name was not going to do as the bowtruckle pulled his hair roughly in disagreement. "Alright, alright! I'll take that as a no! It's not like I suggested Moonpie or anything."

He thought for a second, rubbing his chin before glancing over in the mirror to see the bowtruckle watching him. It looked fully prepared to pull his hair again to reject another suggestion.

"What about Morris?"

The second name wasn't going to fly either as Milo found himself under attack. He let out a screech as he went to snatch the bowtruckle from his hair, but the little creature was swift and managed to poke him with its sharp claws repeatedly to keep the boy's hands at bay.

"What about Spruce, it's like a play on of Bruce but you're a plant based- OWW!"

Minerva was attempting to relax and enjoy an evening of reading, but it seemed every time she turned the page, Milo let out a cry from his room. She was fully prepared to ask what was going on, but she had also learned over time that it was best not to ask. Normally, if Milo needed her help, he would call for her, it seemed the bonding between the bowtruckle and boy was not going as smoothly as planned. She sighed, closing her book over and waiting for the call of help as she sat there quietly.