You're a right beauty, aren't you, girl?

You'll be getting a new assistant today, Weasley.

groans Not another one. Last one nearly lost a hand to the Horntail. I thought we agreed, no more rookies.

chuckles This one's not a rookie. She's a Scamander.

eyes wide A Scamander? As in—Newt Scamander?

His daughter, Beatrice. She's a dragon tamer, came highly recommended. He paused, his eyes twinkling. Wants to make a name for herself. Didn't want to just ride on her father's coattails.

trying to play it cool Right. Well. Good. When does she get here?

The Portkey arrives in an hour. But—He fixed Charlie with a stern look.—I'm putting you in charge of her. You watch her, you train her, you make sure she doesn't get herself killed.

nodding, a little too eagerly Yeah. Yeah, of course. No problem.

snorts Don't get too excited, boy. She's a Scamander through and through. That one's been raised around creatures stranger than any of us have ever seen.

beaming Hello! Sorry, Portkey travel always makes me feel like I've been turned inside out.

clearing his throat, taking her hand Uh. Yeah. Charlie Weasley. Welcome to the Sanctuary.

Beatrice. But call me Bea. Or Fern. Or—She laughed, a sound like wind chimes.—honestly, whatever comes to mind works.

blinking Fern?

My mother's joke. She says I'm like a fern—appear unassuming, but I'm resilient and impossible to get rid of.