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Sketches of a Siramarg


November marched on, the snows came and coated the grounds. James, Sirius, and Lily attended several quidditch training sessions and there was a meeting of the Slug Club that James was, thankfully, left out from. James was still trying to work out how to change into his animagus form, though Peter had decided he was quite alright with never being a rat again if he could help it, and Sirius was reading everything he could about the wolves and their behavior patterns, trying to make plans for the coming December full moon. Remus meanwhile had taken up tutoring some of the first years that were struggling in their classes and dealing with a cranky Severus Snape for his Divinations partner.

“Think something’s wrong with Lily?” James asked one day as they left the Divinations classroom.

“Why do you ask that?” Remus questioned.

“Well she ignored me through the whole of class,” he said.

“Uh, newsflash, Romeo,” said Sirius, “She always ignores you through the whole of class.”

James shook his head, “No. Usually, she makes snarky remarks and rolls her eyes at me and sometimes she does this thing where she tangles her finger up in her hair in agitation pretending she can’t hear me, but really she can, because if I annoy her quite enough she’ll look up and tell me to shut it.” He shrugged, “But she didn’t do any of that today.”

Remus said, “Well then perhaps she’s had yet another row with Severus Snape ‘cos something’s up with him, too.”

“Snivellus’s always got something up,” muttered Sirius with an eyeroll.

“Seriously, he was acting particularly sore today,” Remus replied, “Snapped at me for saying hello, and broke his quill pen on the parchment, looking over at Lily…”

“He needs to keep his ruddy eyes off her,” James grumbled.

That week was the worst for Defense Against the Dark Arts, too, as Professor Veigler had their first non-practical class session. They sat at desks and worked on writing up essays on their parchments while Veigler himself read a book, deep in concentration at the front of the room with a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead that he kept mopping up with a handkerchief that he’d pulled from his pocket.

It was really Care of Magical Creatures class that was most interesting that week.

Hagrid once again conveniently had some work to do nearby, as he had every week since the start of term, and ducked in and out of a large bush that stood to one side of where Professor Kettleburn had tethered a great big copper bird with thick brown feathers and a long plumed tail that dragged the ground behind it and ruffled now and then as the children looked on. “This is a Simurgh… or a Siramarg, depending on the region you wished to ask. She comes from Iran, descended out of the Persian empire. This particular Siramarg is over 1,700 years old. Her mother was over 7,000 years old at the time of her death. Persian legends consider the Siramarg to be a holy entity and believe that some of the birds still alive today have lived through several reincarnations of the world.”

“So she’s Dumbledore’s childhood pet you’re saying,” whispered Sirius. The boys snickered.

“Related to the Phoenix, who regenerates from his own ashes, and the Griffin, which shares many characteristics with a lion as well as these two birds, the Siramarg is one of the Fire Birds of mythology. She is capable of healing mortal wounds with sutures burned from the grip of her claws, which mythology dictates contain the fire of the sun and the remnants of the seeds from the Tree of Life - the first rooted plant from which all things grow.” Kettleburn reached out to stroke the bird, which snapped at him viciously with her pitch black beak. He withdrew his hand quickly, laughing nervously and checking it over, counting the four fingers that were all he had left on there, making sure he wasn’t missing any more. “She’s also quite quick with her beak, so do be careful.”

“It’s like an orange and brown peacock,” Peter murmured as the other kids in the class settled down and started drawing the finer details of the bird in their sketchbooks.

Remus was already halfway through making a most splendid bird with his charcoal pencils on his pad. James was struggling with making a stick figure form of the bird. “It looks more like a constellation,” said Sirius. “You’re a regular Van Gogh, huh?”

“Shut up,” James muttered, “Let’s see you draw it.”

Sirius laughed but he didn’t even try to draw it.

It was as they were doodling in their books that they heard a nervous little voice. “Um, uh, uh, yes... Uh... hello?”

Sirius turned ‘round and he violently kicked James to get his attention. James turned, too. Behind them stood a lanky man with a square jaw and thick black framed glasses. He wore a long tweed jacket with a dark brown vest and a little red bowtie at the throat. His narrow mouth trembled a bit and his large front teeth rested on his lower lip. He clutched a briefcase in his hands that seemed to weigh a great deal, though it was quite small.

“Can’t be -- can it?” James whispered, awestruck.

Hagrid’s head had popped out of the bushes to stare over.

“Newt Scamander!” cried out Kettleburn, a most joyous expression on his face. Remus looked up at this declaration - among the last of the students on the ground before the Siramarg to turn to see the new arrival.

“Bloody hell it is him,” gasped James, eyes wide.

Hagrid had spent the last hour clipping a bush into the shape of a horse and he now accidentally cut the head right off in his surprise as his jaw dropped and he stared openly at the wizard.

“H - hello,” Newt stammered uncomfortably. He shifted his weight and pulled the case to his chest, hugging it as though it were a protective shield. His eyes fell on the bird and they lit up with excitement. “Oh what an excellent Siramarg!” he said, and suddenly he came to life, rushing between the students to the bird, pausing to lower the suitcase to the ground. He looked at a Hufflepuff girl near where he’d set it and pointed at her, “Don’t touch that,” he commanded, even though she hadn’t even begun to move toward it.

The girl looked around at her friends, confused and perplexed.

Newt hurried to look at the Siramarg. “Oh what lovely feathers! Will you look at that pattern? Oh my. Yes… oh goodness.” He circled the bird, looking at her plume. “What a lovely - oh… I need to -- yes, watch out, watch out.” He hurried to step through a cluster of Ravenclaws and grabbed his case once more, tipping it to the side, opened the latches and cracked the case but an inch - only just enough to slip his hand in. Several students leaned forward to see what was in the case, but Newt didn’t open it enough to allow much of a peek. However, a clawed hand snuck out as he withdrew a notebook and quill. He used the notebook to smack the hand back into the case. “No. No. You stay,” he said in the same commanding voice he’d used at the Hufflepuff girl.

“He’s very odd, isn’t he?” Lily whispered to Remus.

Remus nodded.

Kettleburn was grinning ear-to-ear, evidently not realizing how bloody odd Newt Scamander’s actions had been. “Class, this is Newt Scamander, the renowned magizoologist.”

One person clapped. It was James. Several turned to look at him with raised eyebrows and his enthusiasm petered out.

Newt Scamander waved his quill over his shoulder, distracted by the bird, and hunkered down to sketch out the bird. “Is this Bahram’s bird?” he asked.

“Yes, yes it is. I was just getting to that, actually,” Kettleburn said. “Bahram Cy is the Persian Minister for Magic over the Middle East,” he said to the class. “I’ve this bird on a loan in exchange for one of our thestrals for the week.”

Newt’s voice trilled from the ground, “Oh you must show me your thestrals!” He paused. “Oh drat, I’ve got the beak all wrong. She’s moved…” he tore out the page and hastily balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder.

James scrambled to snap up the page and unfolded it quickly, flattening it down and staring at awe at the nearly perfect diagram of the Siramarg. He held it up for Sirius to see, his face alight with excitement.

Nobody could concentrate the rest of class - Kettleburn tried to reign them in and get them all to pay attention as he talked about the Siramarg and their prominence in magical history, but Newt Scamander’s bobbing quill and mysterious suitcase was proving too much of a distraction for everyone. The whole class kept mumbling to one another, wondering about Newt, where he’d come from, what he was up to, what might be in his suitcase… Finally Kettleburn recognized that none of them were paying him any attention and he dismissed the class.

James kept the sketch of the Siramarg, carrying it proudly. “My dad’s never gonna believe this!” he said excitedly, “Think if I ask him next time we see him that he might sign it for me?” His eyes widened at the thought of it.

“Perhaps,” said Sirius.

Remus kept very quiet.

Professor Veigler was in the entrance hall as they stepped inside, talking with Professor Dumbledore by the great big hourglasses filled with brightly coloured gemstones representing each of the houses points. Sirius overheard him saying something about the next trip to Hogsmeade, but they were in a rush to get in to lunch and the other Care of Magical Creatures students were pushing them along and he didn’t get a chance to slow down and hear exactly what they were discussing about the Hogsmeade trip.

“Hey, did you lot watch Veigler on the map the other day? During the full moon?” Sirius asked suddenly, turning to James.

James smacked a palm to his forehead, “Blimey. No, mate, I forgot.”

Sirius frowned.

“He wasn’t at Hogwarts,” Remus offered, coming up behind them, struggling with his crutches still as the crowd going in to the Great Hall jostled him. Peter was trying to keep a clear path to his back to make the going easier by spreading out his arms and redirecting students in a wider berth around Remus.

Sirius turned to look at Remus in surprise, “Well how d’you know that?” he asked.

“Because,” Remus said, “Dumbledore mentioned he’d seen Veigler and Hagrid at the Hog’s Head when he got the fish and chips, remember?”

“Oh yeah!” Sirius recalled. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the Professor and the Headmaster on their way up the stairs together. Sirius chewed his lower lip as they all settled in ‘round the table, then he leaned in, a nervous expression on his face. “Oi, do you lot reckon perhaps he’s got Hagrid under some sort of funny spell? Maybe an imperius?”

Peter looked shocked, “Why in hell would he have Hagrid under an imperius for!?”

“Yeah,” James agreed, “What makes you think he might’ve done that?”

Sirius said lowly, “Well, he’s had Hagrid with him at least twice that we know of when he’s left the grounds. Once in the forest at night and once down in Hogsmeade at night.”

“I’ve heard Hagrid’s a regular at the pub, though,” Remus said. “And Dumbledore didn’t specifically say that the two were there together, only that he’d seen them both there.”

James shook his head, “No, Sirius is right, it’s a bit funny…”

Peter asked, “But why would he have Hagrid under an imperius? What purpose would it serve?”

“What purpose would it ---” Sirius repeated the question as though it were absurd to even ask it, “Peter! Obviously Hagrid knows bloody everything there is to know about the forest and he gets on real fine with the Centaurs, doesn’t he? Of course his knowledge about all that would be extremely handy for someone like Veigler, and I’ll bet that the centaurs won’t attack him when he’s with Hagrid!”

Remus nodded thoughtfully.

“So Veigler gets Hagrid - Imperio! Just like that - and next thing you know he’s got himself a private tour guide, an expert on every branch in the whole forest, as well as an alibi!”

James hesitated, “But you’re forgetting something - we’ve seen Hagrid about the grounds and he doesn’t seem imperiused. Remember how odd Professor Tutman acted when he was under the imperius curse? Hagrid was out there just today watching Newt Scamander with the lot of us. Why would Veigler have him doing that if he was imperiused?”

Sirius rubbed his chin. “Perhaps a true imperius is tough to spot like that and Malfoy’s imperius curse was just a result of an inexperienced caster?”

James shrugged, “Maybe.” He turned back to the sketch in his hands with a grin - having been reminded of them by his mention of Newt. “I still can’t believe I’ve got this.” He looked at Remus, “And you! You acting as though he isn’t brilliant.”

“I never said he wasn’t brilliant,” Remus said, “He’s very bright. I just don’t personally fancy a run-in with him is all…”

“Whyever for!?” James exclaimed.

Remus took a deep breath, “He’s a magizoologist.”

“And?”

Remus’s mouth was quite a tightline. “He’s an expert at spotting magical creatures and categorizing them and, if you didn’t notice, he’s not the best at articulation - he tends to just blurt things out when he thinks them.”

“So?” James prodded.

Remus sighed in frustation, “So -- James, technically I am a magical creature.”

“Well technically we all are,” Sirius pointed out. “Humans are creatures. We’re just… you know… advanced… but…”

Remus looked at him, “You know what I mean.” His eyes moved from one of them to the next, “I mean, what happens if he takes one look at me, tells what I am, and bloody blurts it out?”

James and Sirius and Peter exchanged glances.

“He’s not going to just blurt it out,” James said, “He’s got to know it’s a sensitive topic to bring up - especially at the school of all places!”

Remus frowned, “You lot just don’t get it do you? Newt Scamander worked with my father to write up the Werewolf Restriction Act of 1964!”

“Again -- SO?” James asked.

Remus rubbed his temples. “So, unless Newt has changed his disposition greatly in the past ten years, which my father’s never mentioned about him in all the correspondance they’ve had, then Newt is anti-werewolf.”

“Anti-werewolf?” Sirius repeated the phrase in surprise.

Across the hall, the boys turned to see as Professor Kettleburn led Newt Scamander into the room, waving about at various artifacts and paintings on the walls that would be interesting to Newt.

Remus nodded, “I get caught by Scamander and I’m likely to be expelled. Not only that, but my father and Dumbledore could be in a great deal of trouble for having me here at the school ‘round you lot, seeing as I’m a multiple-times-over X-rated M.O.M. dangerous creature.”

James watched as Kettleburn offered Scamander a seat at the faculty table at the front of the room. James felt sick suddenly. Newt Scamander - his hero - was anti-werewolf?! How could he have done - after all the exploring and travelling he’d done! Surely Newt had met a wolf or two… surely he was quite aware that werewolves were people too… he just had to be!

James looked down at the sketch in his hand and wondered.