I am Gryffindor!

I walked through the halls of the mansion with the little one in my arms. I knew she was female—how exactly, I wasn't sure. I had been looking for my grandfather for a few minutes already, but without luck, until I found our house-elf, Korvus, polishing some silver objects in a tapestry.

"Korvus, do you know where Grandpa is ?" I asked while the small creature squirmed in my arms.

Stopping what he was doing and turning to me, Korvus's expression shifted from normal to shocked.

"By the gods, what creature is that, Master Aurélius ?!" he asked, alarmed.

"Well, I don't really understand either, which is why I need Grandpa. Do you know where he is ?" I said to the elf.

"...He's in the study," he said hesitantly.

"Alright, thank you very much," I said, continuing on my way toward the room.

As I walked away, Korvus muttered,

"Master Aurélius always brings strange things into the house..." and with that, he went back to polishing the tapestry.

—

Inside the study, Grandpa was sitting in an armchair with a book on advanced potion-making open on his lap as he read calmly. But the peace didn't last long.

BAM!

"Grandpa !" I shouted, bursting through the door.

Startled, Grandpa almost dropped his book but managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

"For Merlin's sake, boy, no need to make a scene just to enter a room!" he said, frustrated.

"Sorry, Grandpa, but I need your help," I said excitedly, walking toward him.

He seemed to notice the little one in my arms, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Aurélius, where did you get that ?" he asked, astonished as he moved closer.

"First of all, it's not 'that,' it's 'her.' Second, she just hatched from the egg we brought from the Flamels," I said, stroking her as she let out a happy purr.

"What ? But that egg had been dormant for over a hundred years! How is this possible ?" he wondered.

"I don't know, but I wanted your help identifying her species. None of my books mention anything like her," I said, placing her on the floor between us.

"Hmm, she doesn't resemble anything I know. She has some draconic features, but I've never heard of a dragon like this," he said, scratching his beard as he tried to make sense of it all.

"I thought the same, but even the books on dragons don't mention anything about her," I said, equally confused.

As he pondered, Grandpa began to observe me—maybe looking for a clue, I wasn't sure—but his gaze stopped when it reached my right hand.

"Boy, what happened to your hand ?!" he asked, concerned, moving closer to take my hand.

"I'm not sure. It happened shortly after she was born. It burned at first, but now it's fine," I said, trying to ease his worry.

He began to examine my hand, and after a few seconds, realization seemed to shine in his eyes.

Sigh.

"You never stop giving me heart attacks, do you, boy ?" he asked in a tired voice.

"What ? Do you know what this mark is ?" I asked as my grandfather turned to sit back down in the armchair.

"Yes, I do... It's a Familiar Mark," he said, sounding exhausted.

"A what ?" I asked, confused.

"A Familiar Mark. Some wizards, when they gain the recognition of a powerful creature, receive a mark like this. It symbolizes the connection and bond between the wizard and the creature. Many have tried because gaining a familiar usually doubles a wizard's power, as well as their lifespan, so it was highly sought after in the past by wizards in critical situations " 

"But the practice fell out of use when the mortality rates for attempts reached alarming levels. The headmaster of Hogwarts has a phoenix as his familiar, and he's one of the few nowadays who has one," he explained.

"Well, until now," he added, making eye contact with me.

"I don't know how it happened, but congratulations. You now have a familiar—a bond that no magic can break, a connection for life," he finished with a slight smile.

All this information left my mind blank for a second, but a small grunt made me look down, where the little one was rubbing against my legs.

Seeing this, I couldn't help but smile and crouch down to pet her.

My grandfather watched everything with a smile, and picking up a cup of coffee from a table beside him, he asked,

"Have you thought of a name for her ?" He took a sip of coffee.

I paused for a few seconds, just looking at her, thinking of a name that would suit her.

"Saphira."

"Her name is Saphira," I said, smiling, and Saphira let out a pleased growl as she bounced around.

"So, Saphira it is," my grandfather said.

"I'll just need to contact a trusted friend of mine to determine what species she is."

"Which friend ?" I asked, still playing with Saphira.

"I think you know him. His name is Newt Scamander," he said with a smile.

I froze, staring at him in shock.

'How many famous friends does he have ?!'