Fred found Adrian at breakfast on Saturday and sat down beside him without waiting for an invitation.
“You saw it.”
Adrian looked up from his toast.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“The squid,” Fred said, as George took the space opposite.
“Cedric told Lee.”
Cedric, who was pouring tea, glanced between them.
“Was I meant to keep it secret?”
“We went down yesterday,” George explained.
“Nothing.”
Adrian swallowed his toast before answering.
“It probably had other plans.”
Fred reached for a piece of toast, then seemed to remember he was at another House’s table and looked around.
Nobody appeared concerned.
“How long were you there?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.
We got lucky.”
George leaned back, looking disappointed by how little help that offered.
“We were there longer than that.”
“Next time, bring something to do.”
Cedric set down the teapot.
“He means a book.”
“I could mean a lot of things.”
“You mean a book.”
Adrian smiled and returned to his breakfast while Fred began describing an idea involving food and a very long piece of string.
“Ask Hagrid first,” Adrian said before the explanation went much farther.
“He specifically told us not to throw stuff in.”
George looked at his brother.
“That would include the string.”
“I hadn’t finished.”
Cedric shook his head, but the conversation moved on when the twins noticed the notebook beside Adrian’s plate.
It was open to a page of observations from the lake, with the questions he hadn’t been able to answer collected beneath them.
Fred leaned closer.
“You wrote down how it moved?”
“I didn’t get a great look.
I wanted to remember what I actually saw.”
“What’s that bit?”
Adrian followed his finger.
“Whether it can feel movement in the water before it comes up.”
George looked toward the doors as a group of older students entered.
“Probably felt us getting bored.”
Adrian laughed and closed the notebook before a passing elbow could knock pumpkin juice over it.
They stayed until Fred noticed Charlie leaving the Gryffindor table, at which point both twins abandoned their seats to catch him.
Adrian watched them go, then turned toward Cedric.
“I’m heading to the library.
You coming?”
“For a bit.
I want to finish McGonagall’s reading.”
Adrian collected his bag, pleased to have a morning with nowhere he was expected immediately.
There were references he had copied in Diagon Alley that he still hadn’t found, and he intended to make a start.
The library was quiet enough that Adrian became conscious of every buckle on his bag.
He followed Cedric past the first rows of shelves, reading the labels while they looked for somewhere to sit.
A few older students were already working at the long tables, surrounded by books and parchment, and one looked up sharply when a chair scraped against the floor.
Adrian lowered his own bag carefully.
Cedric took out his Transfiguration book and looked toward the shelves.
“How many books are you planning to find?”
“I made a list.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Adrian smiled and left him at the table.
Finding the creature section took longer than expected, partly because Adrian kept stopping to inspect books that had nothing to do with his search.
By the time he reached the correct shelves, he had added two titles to his notes and learned that the librarian could appear behind him with remarkably little warning.
“Books remain on the tables until you have finished with them,” said the woman behind him.
“They are not writing surfaces.”
Adrian turned to find a thin, sharp-faced witch watching him with narrow eyes.
Her grey hair was pulled tightly away from her face, and a silver chain hung from the spectacles resting at the end of her nose.
“Sorry.
I’ll move.”
“See that you do.
I am Madam Pince, and I expect first-years to understand the difference between a library and a workbench.”
Adrian moved the book immediately, returning it to the table before picking up his notes.
Madam Pince watched until he had done so, then looked over the titles he had selected.
“Keep them open on the tables, and do not fold the pages.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her expression suggested that she had heard the word ma’am used in more irritating ways, but she said nothing and continued down the aisle.
Adrian waited until she was several shelves away before he returned to Cedric with a guide to woodland creatures and a second volume discussing the care of small magical animals.
Neither was one of the references he had been looking for, but both contained sections on Bowtruckles.
He opened the first and began reading.
The basic description was familiar: small, difficult to spot among bark and twigs, and fiercely protective of their trees.
The more useful material concerned the circumstances under which they approached people and the problems caused by treating food as permission to handle them.
Adrian copied a short note, then paused over the next paragraph.
One account described an observer remaining near the same tree over several visits, allowing the creatures to become accustomed to his presence.
Another warned that a Bowtruckle tolerating one person did not mean it would tolerate whoever accompanied them.
That sounded right.
Cedric glanced up when Adrian pulled the second book closer.
“Found something?”
“Yeah.
Hagrid said he might show us some Bowtruckles.”
“I remember.
You looked as though he’d offered you a broom.”
Adrian turned a page.
“I’d rather see the Bowtruckles.”
“I know.”
He read for another half hour, comparing the accounts and marking places where the authors appeared to disagree.
Most of the differences made more sense once he considered that they might have been dealing with different individuals under different conditions.
He was writing that down when a folded piece of parchment landed beside his hand.
Cedric had slid it across the table.
Hagrid’s outside.
Adrian looked up.
Through the nearest window, he could see Hagrid crossing the grounds with a wooden crate tucked beneath one arm.
He wasn’t looking toward the library, and there was no reason to think the crate had anything to do with Bowtruckles.
Adrian checked how much of the chapter remained.
Cedric watched him with open amusement.
His friend nodded solemnly and returned to his homework.
Hagrid was setting the crate beside his hut when they reached him, and Fang stood in the doorway watching the operation with considerably more interest than it appeared to deserve.
“All right?” Hagrid called.
“Done yer work?”
“Most of it,” Adrian said.
“I’ve been reading about Bowtruckles.”
Cedric stopped beside him.
“That part wasn’t homework.”
“Still reading.”
Hagrid chuckled and straightened, brushing his hands against his coat.
“Good timing, then.
Got ter go an’ check something.
Could take yeh along, if yeh’ve got an hour.”
Adrian’s answer came quickly.
“Absolutely.”
“Stay with me, mind.
An’ don’t go reachin’ for anythin’ till I tell yeh.”
Hagrid went inside for a small tin and returned after telling Fang to stay.
The dog followed them three steps before apparently deciding that the blanket was a better offer.
They walked along the grounds toward a stand of trees well short of the Forest.
Adrian kept pace beside Hagrid, resisting the urge to ask every question he had collected that morning.
He managed until they were halfway there.
“Are they used to you?”
“Some are.
Doesn’t mean they’ll let me do whatever I like.”
“Right.
I read that they can recognise people.”
“Oh, they know when I’ve got food.”
Hagrid gave the tin a small shake, and something shifted inside.
“Woodlice,” he explained when Adrian looked at it.
“Keeps ’em occupied if there’s work needs doin’.”
Adrian glanced toward the trees ahead.
“So we’re watching while you work?”
“Might be a bit o’ both.”
A man was already waiting beside one of the trunks, inspecting a branch that hung lower than the others.
His outdoor robes were worn at the cuffs, and the hand resting against the bark was wooden.
Adrian noticed the hand before he took in the man’s face, then deliberately looked up.
“Hagrid,” the man called.
“You found them?”
“Brought the tin.
These two wanted ter have a look, if that’s all right.”
The man’s attention shifted to the boys.
“First-years?”
“Yes, sir,” Cedric answered.
“Then you may look from here until I say otherwise.”
Hagrid stopped beside them, apparently expecting nothing less.
“Professor Kettleburn,” he said.
“Teaches Care of Magical Creatures.”
Adrian felt his interest sharpen.
He knew the subject wouldn’t appear on his timetable for some time, but the professor was standing in front of him now, examining a tree occupied by exactly the creatures Adrian had spent the morning reading about.
“Adrian Clarke, sir.”
“Cedric Diggory.”
Kettleburn nodded to each of them, then pointed toward the branch.
“Tell me what you can see.”
Adrian studied the bark.
At first, he saw nothing beyond leaves, small twigs, and a narrow split where the branch joined the trunk.
Then one of the twigs moved against the breeze.
“There,” he said quietly.
“Near the fork.”
“Describe it.”
“It’s facing us.
Both feet are planted, and one hand’s against the bark.”
Cedric leaned slightly to improve his view, and the little figure shifted.
Kettleburn raised his wooden hand.
“Stay where you are.”
Both boys stopped immediately.
“Now look again.”
Adrian watched the Bowtruckle straighten, its long fingers lifting away from the trunk.
“It noticed Cedric moving.”
“Yes.
And it would prefer that he stopped.”
Cedric eased back to his original position.
The creature remained upright for several moments before lowering one hand to the bark again.
Adrian was smiling before he realised it.
It was far more delicate than he had expected, with tiny changes of posture that disappeared if he looked anywhere else.
The face was difficult to distinguish until it turned, and he found himself recalling all the little movements he had loved watching in Newt’s films.
Kettleburn noticed his expression.
“Read about them?”
“This morning.
I wanted to know what to watch for.”
“Useful.
Provided you remember the one in front of you hasn’t read the same book.”
Adrian looked at him, then nodded.
“Yeah.
That makes sense.”
Hagrid opened the tin while Kettleburn examined the damaged branch from several feet away.
“We need a closer look at that split,” the professor said.
“The Bowtruckles object to anyone approaching their tree, and their objection is entirely reasonable.”
“They think you’re damaging it?” Adrian asked.
“They know we are interfering with it.
Our intentions are of little interest to a creature defending its home.”
Kettleburn held out his hand for the tin and selected a few woodlice, placing them on a sound branch away from the split.
He withdrew without reaching toward the Bowtruckle, then waited.
Nothing happened immediately.
Cedric shifted his weight, caught himself, and remained still.
After a while, a second creature emerged from behind the trunk.
It moved toward the food with quick, careful steps, while the first remained where it was.
Adrian watched the Bowtruckle guarding the trunk rather than the one moving toward the woodlice.
Even while the second creature investigated the food, the first kept its eyes on Kettleburn’s hands, its fingers raised against the bark.
Kettleburn noticed.
“For it to relax,” Adrian said.
“It’s still watching your hands, and it looks ready to grab the branch if you move closer.”
“And if it remains cautious?”
“Then you wait.
Or leave it alone.”
Kettleburn studied him for a moment before turning back toward the tree.
“Quite.”
Hagrid stood beside them, apparently content to wait as long as necessary, while Adrian continued watching for the small change in posture that would tell them the Bowtruckle no longer expected trouble.
Adrian tried to imagine doing this while worrying about a whole class, and understood why they were being kept back.
One student getting impatient could undo everything.
The first Bowtruckle finally turned toward its companion, although it did not approach the food.
Its raised fingers lowered a little, and Adrian let his own shoulders relax.
Without thinking much about it, he made a soft, brief sound.
The creature turned toward him.
Adrian made a soft, brief sound before he could stop himself.
The Bowtruckle turned toward him.
Kettleburn’s wooden hand lifted immediately.
“What was that?”
Adrian glanced at him.
“Just a sound.”
“I noticed.
Why did you make it?”
Adrian looked back at the creature, trying to explain something he had learned long before he had words for it.
“I was letting it know I wasn’t moving closer.”
Kettleburn studied him, then watched the Bowtruckle shift its grip on the bark.
“And you believe it understood you?”
“I don’t know.
It looked at me.”
“So did I.”
Adrian considered the creature’s posture.
“I wouldn’t make the sound again yet.
It’s still deciding what I am.”
Kettleburn’s attention returned to him.
“An unusually cautious answer.”
“I’m guessing.”
“Then keep guessing quietly.”
Adrian nodded and stayed still, while Kettleburn observed the Bowtruckle without making any assumption about what Adrian’s sound had meant.
The Bowtruckle continued watching him, and he resisted the urge to reassure it again.
He could see curiosity in the way it leaned forward, but there was tension there too, and he didn’t know enough about this individual to be certain which mattered more.
After a few moments, it moved sideways around the trunk.
Kettleburn waited until it settled before inspecting the damaged branch.
He worked slowly, with Hagrid standing ready beside him, and the examination took less time than persuading the creatures to allow it.
When they stepped away, Adrian realised he had barely looked at the damage.
He had been watching the Bowtruckles the whole time.
They stopped a short distance from the trees once Kettleburn was satisfied the creatures had settled.
Hagrid closed the tin and tucked it into his coat, while Cedric looked back toward the branch they had been watching.
“I can’t see them now.”
“Exactly where they prefer to be,” Kettleburn said.
Adrian took out his notebook but left it closed.
“Can I ask you something?”
Kettleburn glanced at him.
“Go on, then.”
“What did I miss when it moved around the trunk?”
He glanced back at the tree.
“What makes you think you missed anything?”
“It came closer, then moved behind the trunk.
I thought it was curious, but maybe I made it nervous.”
“It may have been doing both.”
Adrian looked at the branches.
“How can you tell which?”
“You can’t.
Not from that alone.”
He opened his notebook.
“Write down exactly what happened first,” Kettleburn said.
“Decide what it meant after you have more than one observation.”
Adrian nodded and began writing.
“Don’t turn it into a rule,” the professor added.
“Write what happened before deciding what it means.”
He crossed out the beginning of his sentence and started again.
Hagrid watched the correction with a small smile.
“Likes his notes, this one.”
“So I see.” Kettleburn waited until Adrian finished.
“Where did you learn to make that sound?”
“Watching animals.
Trying things.
Mostly figuring out when I’m making them uncomfortable.”
“Mostly?”
“I get it wrong sometimes.”
“Then continue remembering that.”
There was no particular warmth in the instruction, but Adrian didn’t find it discouraging.
The professor had let him stay, answered his question, and taken his uncertainty seriously.
He wanted another opportunity.
“Would it be okay if I watched again sometime?”
Kettleburn regarded him for a moment, then looked toward Hagrid.
“Provided one of us is present.”
Adrian nodded quickly.
“And bring your observations,” the professor continued.
“What the creature did, what you did immediately before it, and what changed afterwards.
Leave room for the possibility that you misunderstood.”
“I can do that.”
“We shall find out.”
Hagrid explained that he still had work to finish, and Kettleburn needed to return to his own preparations.
The boys thanked them before heading back across the grounds.
Cedric waited until they were well away from the trees.
“You’re going to fill that notebook by October.”
Adrian looked down at the page, where several lines had already become cramped.
“I might need a bigger one.”
“Or smaller writing.”
“That sounds harder.”
Cedric laughed, and Adrian closed the notebook carefully before putting it away.
He hadn’t touched a Bowtruckle or persuaded one to climb onto his hand.
He wasn’t even sure it had understood the sound he made.
But Professor Kettleburn had told him to come back with observations, and Adrian already knew what he wanted to ask next time.