Bruno stared up at the white-haired old stranger, who seemed a little bit impatient with his surroundings.
“H-h-hello,” Bruno stammered uncertainly.
It wasn’t that Bruno was shy- but strangers came to Karstbaum about twice a year for the trading season, so this was a shock.
The man glanced at him. “Is this the Schmidt home?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
“And are you, by any chance, Bruno Schmidt?” The man’s chilly manner thawed slightly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ah!” The man beamed at Bruno and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just the boy I wanted to see. Are your parents home?”
“They’re outside now, sir.” Bruno felt even more nervous now. Why did this man want to see him? How did he even know his name? Bruno felt certain that he had never seen the man before.
“Well, why don’t you fetch your parents, lad?” the man said, looking around for a chair. He finally spotted Otto’s worn-out old armchair and sank down with a sigh. Bruno looked at him uncertainly but headed out the door to find his parents.
He met his mother coming down the path. He quickly told her that a stranger had arrived. She looked a little flustered, and sent Bruno back to the house while she told Otto the news. Soon they were all sitting around the kitchen table in the house. Brunhilda offered the stranger a drink. He asked for a cup of tea, which was soon brought.
“Now,” the stranger took a sip of the tea, cleared his throat, and then continued, “I’d like to talk to you all about a very important matter. My name is Newt Scamander.”
He paused to look at their faces but none of them showed any signs of recognition. “If the rumors are true,” he continued, “your son Bruno is a very remarkable boy. I have heard- from confidential sources of course- that young Bruno here has the rare distinction of being the last one known to have seen an Erkling and survived the encounter. Is this true?”
Brunhilda looked startled. “Yes, but- wait! How did you know about it? Are people talking about us among the Muggles?”
Scamander looked insulted. “I am a wizard, ma’am. What are you implying?”
Both Otto and Brunhilda gasped simultaneously.
“You don’t even know us for more than five minutes and you’re already saying that?” Brunhilda yelped.
At almost the exact same time, Otto shouted, “What are you doing, man? How can you talk about these matters here, with all the windows open to daylight? It’s an outrage!”
“Hold on,” said the old man in surprise. “What on earth are you folk talking about?”
Brunhilda glared at him. “If you actually are a-” she winced and went on in a whisper, “-wizard, then you know perfectly well exactly what we mean!”
The old man simply stared at them, lost for words.
“Hang on,” said Otto. “We have got to stop this nonsense. If you need to discuss anything like that with us, you should’ve given us advanced notice. Why have you come?”
Scamander shook his head and muttered to himself, “I knew I should’ve researched this crazy place first. Porpentina was completely right. Ah, well, too late for that now.”
He straightened his shoulders and looked Otto in the eye.
“About your boy, sir. That’s why I’ve come. He killed an Erkling, using your cauldron if I am not mistaken. I’m an author, you see. I want to interview your son about his experience for my book. No need to start yelling and running about,” he concluded, rather irked to see Brunhilda scrambling to close all the windows in the room as he spoke.
“I’ll pay you for your time, of course. It’s just a short interview; no big deal.” The man leaned back in the chair, awaiting their reply.
Otto and Brunhilda glanced at each other. “All right then,” Brunhilda said decisively. “Only if you agree to keep the windows completely shut and do it in the back room.”
Scamander had clearly decided to humor them in their little peculiarities. “Sounds just fine to me. I’m quite willing,” he announced in what was obviously meant to be a calm and reassuring voice. They all stood up and went through the doorway into the back room. Brunhilda quickly rushed over to the tiny window in the back and shut it firmly.
“I’ll put a spell on it for you if you’d like, ma’am,” Scamander offered, trying to be helpful. Brunhilda shook her head frantically.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. Now, is there somewhere Bruno and I can sit? And for you too, if you’d like to be present during the interview- though I must request that you don’t make a sound unless I ask you something directly.”
Otto and Brunhilda nodded their agreement and found enough chairs for everyone to sit on.
Scamander turned to Bruno. “No need to be nervous, lad,” he said jovially. “What I want you to do is simply to tell me, in your own words, everything you remember about the Erkling and what happened then. I won’t be able to include everything you say in my book, but I want a complete story so I can choose the facts I need to include. Are we clear?” Bruno nodded.
“Well, I remember it pretty well,” he began in his rasping voice. “I was only six, and I was outside playing by the edge of the woods. My parents were both far away from where I was sitting. I heard scratching noises coming up behind me and I ignored them at first. They kept coming closer and closer and I turned around and saw, right behind me, a small creature crouching that looked like an elf, with pointy ears and wrinkly skin."
"I reached out my hand curiously toward it, and it started giggling- it was a really, high, squeaky laugh. It made me want to follow it into the forest, but my mother had told me about Erklings and I realized I didn’t want it to eat me in the forest.”
He stopped and cleared his throat, noticing that everyone in the room was staring at him unusually hard. Bruno continued, “It started crawling closer, beckoning to me with its finger. I got really nervous and looked around for something to protect myself with. My father had broken his collapsible cauldron the day before, and it was lying out in the yard cooling down from being fixed. I hesitated because I was afraid he’d be mad if I broke it again, but the Erkling giggled again and I just panicked, grabbed the cauldron by the handle and brought it down with a thunk right on the Erkling’s head.” He smiled slightly.
“It just sort of made a fizzling noise, and shriveled up on the ground. I called for my parents and they came running. The cauldron did break, but not too badly, and my father was too glad I hadn’t been eaten to be angry at me. He also was proud that I had been smart and hadn’t followed it. We buried the Erkling out near the edge of the forest.”
There was a brief silence, and then Scamander burst out, “Bruno, do you have a talent for storytelling, or did someone put a spell on you to do that? It was a regular story- well, an unusual one, and you were very brave and very lucky, but your voice! No, not even your voice, just something about you- it was like you were casting a spell!”
Bruno, feeling a little embarrassed, muttered something about not knowing what Scamander was talking about. Otto shrugged.
“I haven’t heard Bruno tell a story in years, but he is very good. We never thought about it much.”
“It was amazing, really. Well, that’s all the information I’ll be needing, I think. I’ve got to run now, thanks for-”
Brunhilda interrupted him.
“Don’t go just yet. I want to ask you something.”
She stared defiantly at her husband, daring him to say a word, and asked, “If I’m guessing right from your accent…I heard a British accent a few times when I was younger, and you’re from England, correct?”
Scamander nodded.
“How are things in England now for wizards?” she asked eagerly.
“Well, they were pretty bad for a while now because of You-Know-Who-” Scamander began.
“Sorry, what?” Brunhilda interrupted. “I don’t know who.”
Scamander’s eyes bulged wide in surprise. “My dear Mrs. Schmidt! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! The Dark Lord! Surely you’ve heard of him!”
“We don’t know what’s happening outside of Karstbaum, I’m afraid, not for quite a while,” Brunhilda informed him.
“Well! Humph! Anyhow, things are much better there now in England. Hogwarts is growing, the Ministry is doing well, and people are rebuilding after all their losses. It’s spring for England now, things are renewing after a long harsh winter,” Scamander poetized.
“So, you would think this would be a good time to move to England?”
“Why, certainly! None better! I don’t see why not. Why, are you planning to?”
Brunhilda didn’t answer, but turned to her husband and stared fiercely at him. Otto groaned.
“I really must be going now, I’m on a schedule. Thank you so much for your hospitality and cooperation. Nice meeting you all. I’ll try to send you a free edition of my book, so if you do end up moving anywhere I’d appreciate if you’d send me your address, to spare me the trouble of tracking you down. Have a good day, then!” Scamander bid them all farewell and slipped an envelope into Otto’s hand, explaining it held the money he’d promised them.
The Schmidts watched him walk down the front path and disappear with a faint pop at the end of the path. Brunhilda winced at this display of magic. She turned to her husband.
“Otto, you heard what he said. Let’s go! It’s a perfect time for it. With the money he gave us, I’m sure we can afford it. It’s time- now! Stop putting me off with excuses!”
Otto sighed wearily. Bruno guessed what he was about to say. “All right. We’re going.” He had had enough of the constant nagging and had finally resigned himself to leaving his home.
Brunhilda clapped her hands and a wide grin spread across her face. “Oh, at last! We’re really going to go! Bruno, you can go to Hogwarts! England, here we come!”