The Legacy of the Magizoologist

But not everything was peaceful. Troubling news from the wizarding world often reached Newt. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Jamie's parents, had vanished, but his followers continued to spread chaos. Jamie, though still a child, was haunted by nightmares.

One night, Newt awoke to the sound of quiet sobs coming from Jamie's room. He opened the door gently and found the boy curled up on his bed, clutching his blanket tightly.

"Jamie," Newt said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

"I saw them again," Jamie whispered, his voice barely audible. "My parents. They were screaming, and then there was this green light… and then nothing."

Newt's heart ached as he saw the pain in Jamie's eyes. He moved closer and wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders. "It's all right to feel scared and sad, Jamie. Those memories are hard to bear, but you don't have to carry them alone."

Jamie sniffled, his voice trembling. "Sometimes, it feels like they're still there, in the shadows. Like I'll see them again if I close my eyes too long."

Newt reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of calming draught. "Here, this might help you sleep tonight. But more importantly, Jamie, remember that this house is full of life and warmth. You're safe here."

The boy nodded hesitantly, taking the vial. "Do you think… do you think they'd be proud of me?"

Newt smiled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I have no doubt they would be. You've shown such courage and kindness, Jamie. Your parents would be proud of the person you're becoming."

Over the next few weeks, Jamie began to open up more about his past. He shared small fragments of his memories, like the way his mother used to hum lullabies and the scent of his father's favorite pipe tobacco. Each story was a window into a life stolen too soon, and Newt listened with quiet empathy.

Jamie also found solace in the creatures. When the nightmares grew overwhelming, he would slip out to the greenhouse, where the Bowtruckles or the baby Hippogriff would offer their silent comfort. One night, Newt found Jamie sitting by Tempest, the Thunderbird, who had spread one wing to shelter the boy. The sight filled Newt with both sorrow and hope.

"Tempest doesn't usually let anyone this close," Newt said softly, stepping into the greenhouse. "He must trust you deeply."

Jamie looked up, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the glass. "He told me he understands what it's like to lose everything. He said he feels it, too."

Newt crouched beside him, placing a hand on Tempest's feathered side. "Creatures like Tempest have an incredible sense of empathy. Perhaps he sees in you the same strength I see."

Jamie leaned into the Thunderbird's side, his voice steadier now. "It helps, you know. Being here with them. With you."

Newt placed a gentle hand on Jamie's shoulder. "You've brought something special into this house, Jamie. Never forget that."

As the days passed, Jamie began to find joy again. He laughed more, played with the creatures, and even started helping Newt catalog the magical beasts. Each small victory felt monumental, a testament to the resilience of a heart that had endured so much.

Though the shadows of the past still lingered, Jamie was no longer alone. Together, he and Newt began weaving a new story—one of healing, hope, and the unbreakable bond between them.