There were two strange men inside Rolf Scamander’s flat.
“Close the door,” they ordered in unison.
The thunk of the door shutting behind him sounded ominous in the dark. Rolf kept one hand on the handle, the other hand went to his wand. For a moment, the three men stood there in silence, squinting at one another in the unlit room. Then, after some rustling, Achilles peeked his head out from Rolf’s coat pocket.
“You must be Scamander,” one of them drawled. The taller one, blond with an unkempt goatee. Neither of them looked out of place in Knockturn Alley, but they did not belong in his home. Steeling himself, Rolf took a step forward, raising his wand—
“That would be a stupid thing to do,” said the other man. Rolf felt a brief flicker of anxious dread, but he lifted his chin and lit the room’s lamps with a silent spell.
The intruders blinked. The taller one quickly blurted out, “What’d you go and do that for? This sort of conversation is more fun in the dark.” A smile spread across his face, and Rolf almost recoiled at the sight of his yellowing teeth, sharpened to a point.
Rolf aimed his wand at the man’s chest. “What are you doing here? How’d you get past my wards?”
The shorter man glowered at him. “Is it true? You’re not scared of Fenrir Greyback?”
“No,” Rolf said firmly, his spine stiffening. “I’m not scared of you, either.” He paused long enough to give both men a considering look, and then he cocked an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’d have better luck on the full moon.”
The taller man — werewolf, Rolf told himself — let out a callous laugh. “You should be scared, little boy.” He took one step forward, then another, all the while smiling a knife-sharp smile. Rolf’s rational mind screamed for him to take a step back, but he merely squared his shoulders. “You think we’re only dangerous on the full? Don’t kid yourself.”
Pressing his lips to a line, Rolf only hesitated for a heartbeat, eyes locking with the approaching werewolf’s in a tense moment of truth. “I suggest you leave my flat and never come back. I’ll even give you five seconds to do so!”
The men exchanged looks before their disbelieving laughter filled the room. “Yeah, boy? What are you going to do?” The shorter werewolf’s eyes dropped to his pocket. “That little twig you’ve got there isn’t going to do much when we—”
Rolf interrupted the man with a sharp whistle.
Bemused, the werewolves laughed again. This time, Rolf joined in, his whole body shaking with it, but his laughter quickly died out as the blond reached out to wrap his fingers around his throat. “What the fuck are you laughing at, little b—oh, bloody fuck, what the fuck—” The jarvey attached to the man’s leg sunk its teeth into his calf. He stumbled backward, attempting to kick the jarvey off as he screeched, “Fucking kill it!”
“Stop moving,” the other werewolf shouted, just as the jarvey chirped, “Louse! Scum! Idiot!”
“Get it off me,” the tall werewolf howled, careening into a bookshelf in his panic. The jarvey circled his leg before scurrying up his torso, clawing at his chest before it bit at the werewolf’s nose.
Rolf opened the door with a flick of his wand. “I’ll call her off if you leave,” he promised.
The shorter werewolf whipped around and stalked toward him. Rolf raised his wand. In the background, the taller werewolf continued to scream as the jarvey alternated between biting him and insulting him.
“Listen to me, you little dickweed,” the werewolf snarled, jabbing a finger into Rolf’s chest, “you better give Fenrir the respect he deserves or you will see us again on the full.”
A terrible lurch turned in Rolf’s stomach as cold reality set in. He nodded, a sharp jerk of his head, before he pointed his wand at the door. “Will you please leave now? I’d really appreciate it.”
“Call off your fucking raccoon!”
Somehow, Rolf still had the presence of mind to look affronted. “She’s a jarvey.”
“Dickweed!” shouted the jarvey, who was now perched on the taller werewolf’s head.
“Call it off!”
“Fine,” Rolf replied, rolling his shoulders before he let out another sharp whistle. The jarvey relinquished its hold on the werewolf’s head, scampering down to the floor before vanishing into another room.
The taller werewolf’s face was covered in bloody scratches, and he let out a groan of pain as he stumbled toward the door. The shorter werewolf quickly followed him, though he paused at the doorway and gave Rolf a pointed look. “Don’t forget. Respect.”
Rolf replied with a wave of his wand, slamming the door in the werewolf’s face.