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HRHL# Chapter 144: Aunt, Do You Like Potter?{1}
🕑 Added 2025-04-06 21:16:38 +0000 UTCAs the days passed one by one, the Scottish Highlands grew increasingly cold.
Every morning, students had to brave the biting drafts, huddling in small groups as they scurried through the castle.
It must be said that the new temporary school rules set by Dumbledore were proving quite effective—there hadn’t been a single case of a student being petrified for an entire week.
Meanwhile, Professor Snape had begun discreetly investigating the Slytherin students, trying to determine who might have blood ties to the Gaunt family.
Professor Dumbledore himself had personally visited the orphanage where Voldemort had spent his childhood, intent on thoroughly uncovering his origins.
Harry found this utterly absurd. Seriously, he thought, you’ve been headmaster for all these years, and you’ve never bothered to look into the students’ backgrounds?
Ordinary students were one thing, but this was Voldemort—a naturally wicked little monster!
Harry reckoned that if he were headmaster, he’d have turned Voldemort’s history upside down long ago—down to the very flavor of cake he’d eaten on his third birthday.
Oh, sorry, Tom, I forgot your mum didn’t love you. Even if she were alive, she wouldn’t have thrown you a birthday party, Harry thought with a wicked smirk.
Given that a Basilisk still lurked within the school, Harry had someone purchase a pair of two-way mirrors for him. He scribbled a letter to Poppy, handed it to an owl in the Owlery, and instructed it to deliver the message to Mr. Flamel.
The gist of the letter was simple: the school remained dangerous, and he suggested Poppy stay with Mr. Flamel a bit longer.
Mr. Flamel’s home was a lively place. On November 9th, Newt Scamander and his wife, Porpentina Scamander, arrived at Flamel’s cottage.
Truth be told, Newt had set off for France much earlier, but due to certain historical complications, crossing borders had been a challenge for him.
It wasn’t until today, after a thorough review, that he’d finally entered France legally.
The moment he arrived, he Apparated with his wife straight to the doorstep of Flamel’s cottage.
The Scamanders were among the few wizards who knew of Flamel’s cottage, so the Fidelius Charm didn’t shield it from them.
“Mr. Flamel,” Newt said, knocking on the door.
Moments later, Deek the house-elf opened it, welcoming the Scamanders inside.
Pushing the door open, they were greeted by the sight of Mr. Flamel, utterly engrossed in staring at a glowing box. His hand fidgeted with something resembling a plastic mouse, clicking it now and then.
A little farther back, a unicorn stood sleeping on the sofa.
“Mr. Flamel?” Newt ventured a tentative greeting.
But Flamel didn’t respond, still fixated on the glowing box.
Newt stepped forward and waved a hand in front of Flamel’s face.
Only then did Flamel snap out of it, letting out a delayed, “Oh!”
“It’s Newt! When did you get here?” he chuckled warmly.
Newt gave an awkward smile. “Just walked in. What are you doing? I recall Albus mentioning this summer that you and Mrs. Flamel were planning to embrace death together. I even received a bunch of things you sent me…”
“Oh, that,” Flamel said, grinning at Newt. “I changed my mind. I’ve decided living is actually full of fun—look at this, this…”
Like a child showing off a new toy to a friend, Flamel began introducing the object before him.
“This—it’s a new Muggle invention called a computer,” Flamel said gleefully. “This little thing has given me a reason to keep living. Jump forward just a hundred-odd years, and the Muggles have created something this fascinating. Now look at the wizarding world, huh?”
“The wizarding world is fine, Mr. Flamel,” Newt replied.
“No, it’s not,” Flamel said earnestly. “Wizards have grown stagnant, completely lost their drive to innovate—oh, never mind that. What brings you here?”
Only then did Newt recall his purpose. His face flushed slightly as he spoke.
“I heard from Mr. Potter at Hogwarts about a unicorn lady—her name’s Poppy, right?”
“Yes,” Flamel said. “I forgot how much you love magical creatures—don’t you? Like that suitcase of yours, always stuffed with a few… er, you didn’t bring them this time, did you?”
“No,” Newt replied with firm conviction.
Flamel relaxed, smiling at Newt. “You’ve got to understand an old man’s struggles. My alchemy lab can’t handle another Niffler rampage—so you’re here about Poppy, yes?”
“Yes,” Newt nodded. “Mr. Potter mentioned this unicorn named Poppy seems to have a dulled sense of taste?”
Flamel glanced at the still-sleeping Poppy. “That’s right, though her case is rather unique. I’d suggest you ask her permission before studying her.”
“Of course, Mr. Flamel, of course,” Newt said, settling onto a nearby sofa with his wife, Tina.
“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she? So elegant,” Tina murmured, gazing at Poppy in awe.
No sooner had she spoken than a snot bubble puffed up from Poppy’s nose, bursting with a pop under Tina’s stunned stare.
“Hrrrm… not asleep,” Poppy mumbled.
She opened her eyes, blinking groggily at the two new faces before her.
“Hello,” she yawned, turning to Newt and Tina, who were watching her intently.
Two humans and one unicorn locked eyes—six in total—each glancing at the others, unsure who should speak first.
Finally, Newt broke the silence.
“Hello, I’m Newt,” he said, extending a hand. “Newt Scamander. It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Poppy.”
Realizing too late that she was a unicorn, not a person, he flushed, lowering his hand. “Sorry, Miss Poppy, I forgot—”
“It’s fine,” Poppy said, lifting a forehoof. “Hello, Mr. Scamander, Mrs. Scamander.”
As she spoke, a flicker of confusion crossed her face.
Scamander?
Why did that name feel so familiar?
Newt and Tina’s eyes sparkled. After shaking Poppy’s hoof, Newt launched into a barrage of questions.
Poppy blinked, overwhelmed by the onslaught. Her eyes began to swirl like mosquito coils, her expression growing dazed and not particularly sharp.
Noticing Poppy’s bewilderment, Tina tugged at Newt’s sleeve.
“Sorry,” Newt said sheepishly. “I’ve just… I’ve never been this close to a unicorn before. Apologies, Miss Poppy.”
“It’s alright,” Poppy replied with a gentle smile. For some reason, she felt an odd fondness for this old man.
It was a strange kind of warmth, as if there were some connection between them…
Newt hummed, hesitating before speaking again. “Miss Poppy, your name—um, do you know a Miss Poppy Sweeting?”
At Newt’s question, Flamel swiveled his chair around, his expression one of gleeful curiosity.
Wow, who’d have thought Newt would know Miss Sweeting too?
Then again, it wasn’t surprising—Newt was born in 1897, after all.
“Poppy Sweeting?”
At the sound of the name, Poppy straightened up.
“How do you know her?” she asked, a hint of wariness in her eyes.
She glanced at Flamel, her mind swirling with questions.
Why does this Scamander fellow know my name?
“I—my mother, she had a sister,” Newt said, his face reddening. “Her name was Linda Scamander—oh, right, before she married, she was Linda Sweeting…”
Poppy froze.
She hadn’t expected that, after all these years, a living relative still walked the earth.
And then it clicked—why Scamander felt so familiar…
Back in 1887, her older sister had married a man named Scamander. Poppy had still been at Hogwarts then, but she’d attended their wedding.
“You… you’re my sister’s son?” Poppy gasped.
“Sister?!”
Newt shot to his feet, staring at Poppy in shock.
Tina, too, wore a look of utter disbelief.
She could scarcely imagine that this unicorn before them was… was her husband’s mother’s sister? Their aunt?
“You… you mean—” Newt stammered, pointing a trembling finger at Poppy. “You… you’re Poppy Sweeting? My aunt?”
It was a reasonable reaction—anyone would balk at a unicorn declaring, “I’m your auntie.” The first instinct was disbelief.
Poppy nodded, then let out a soft “Oh!” A shimmer of light enveloped her, and in her place appeared the ghost of a beautiful young girl in Hufflepuff robes.
“There, this should convince you,” Poppy said, extending a hand. “Meow—let’s reintroduce ourselves, nephew. I’m your aunt, Poppy Sweeting.”
Newt reached out mechanically, only to grasp at air.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“I became a ghost,” Poppy said simply. “Something went wrong while practicing magic with Magizoology, and I ended up like this.”
She clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward to peer up at Newt’s downturned face with a smile. “You really don’t take after your mum, Newt. Linda was so outgoing—always hugging people. You didn’t inherit that.”
Newt chuckled awkwardly. “My brother, Theseus, got Mum’s extroversion—he’s a hug monster. But I inherited her love for magical creatures.”
“Oh yes, Linda adored Hippogriffs,” Poppy said with a laugh, pausing to recall. “Ah, Theseus—I remember him. If I’ve got it right, he was born when I was in my third year. I even held him once.”
“Did you?” Newt did a quick mental calculation. “You were in third year in 1889?”
“Yep,” Poppy said, twirling in place. “This is how I looked in my seventh year. Pretty youthful, huh?”
Newt felt a lump in his throat.
“Have you… been like this all these years? A ghost?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Sometimes a unicorn too,” Poppy said, settling back onto the sofa. “Compared to being a ghost, I prefer the carefree life of a unicorn.”
Newt turned to Flamel.
“Mr. Flamel, please allow me to discuss Aunt Poppy with Theseus,” he said. “I think he deserves to know about something this big.”
Flamel waved a frail hand dismissively, shuffling back to his computer.
His meaning was clear: Do whatever you want, just don’t interrupt my computer time!
Newt glanced at Tina, pulled a small card from his pocket, and stepped out of Flamel’s alchemy lab.
Moments later, he returned with a tall, lanky, handsome old man in tow.
It was his brother, Theseus Scamander.
Theseus clearly had no idea what was happening. “What’s this all about, calling me here so urgently?” he asked, bewildered.
“You’ll see,” Newt said, nudging Theseus into the room.
Flamel’s alchemy lab was small to begin with, and with a few extra people, it quickly felt cramped.
Theseus glanced around, taking it all in. It was his first time visiting Flamel’s home.
He’d heard of the legendary alchemist, of course—though the last time he’d seen Flamel was decades ago at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
