"Of course not, they'd taste terrible. All fat and nothing good in their diets... that would punish my dragons. I do something far worse to the Ministry workers who dare set foot on my land," he said, his tone light and breezy. 'Far worse' in this case of course was about Terry who now worked here of his own volition. Still, the Ministry thought it a terrible thing and that was good enough for Tim given that no one really suffered.
He tilted his head to one side, something picked up from the moments when he was changed into his pug skin and regarded the man who had come to his Sanctuary.
"Lancelot Cadwallader," he said a beat before the man introduced himself. Well, of course. "How I knew your lineage so quickly? Mr. Cadwallader, I never brought the subject up with you and for good reason. It hardly matters to me what history your family has with magic. My parents would have a different opinion on the matter, of course, but all I am concerned with is the type of man you are. Do not assume to know people from what you know of their kind. Be grateful, at least, that they were not the ones to make contact with you. We are not our parents or our lineage. If we were, you yourself may not have magic. Prove the type of man you are to me, and I'll give my blessing, but until then, do not presume to know me based upon stereotypes of my kind."
The halfblood inquisition would be tomorrow when their parents got the story from Ella, he knew. And when they landed whatever it was they had planned on him, too. He had some idea what that was about, given his age now. Some idea and some fear too, but that wasn't for now.
"I fly with dragons," he said once he'd finished blinking at the non sequitur. "That's the purpose for a broom in my book."