Chapter Twenty-Five: A Knucker’s Tale

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Knucker's Tale

"Sure you're not up for a pint?" Malcolm asked. "Just a quick one at the Hog's Head."

Johannes shook his head. "It has been a long day. I wish to retire early, and I must see to putting away the supplies Multry sent with me first," he said, holding up a large covered basket.

"Eh! Everything has a first-rate freshness charm on it, I'm sure," Malcolm said. "It'll all keep just fine. Bring it along."

"I do not think so. After last night..."

"Pay no attention to what I said last night about the clan joining. Except for the last bit. I'm sure Grandmother Siofre has good reason for what she does, and you're a fine addition to the clan."

"That was not what I meant. The brandy was powerful. It was enough to drink for a week, I am thinking."

"Pish! That was last night, man! You're becoming an old woman, living up there in the hills like that! Good that I brought you into town," Malcolm said, grabbing his friend's arm and pulling him along with him. "We'll get a pint and a basket of chips...if they've changed the fat in the fryer in the last couple days, they don't do bad chips...and we'll relax after the long day. You'll sleep better for it."

Johannes shook his head, but he let go of his basket and waved his wand, Levitating it along beside them. "All right, but I would prefer the Broomsticks. I do not worry that they have not changed the cooking oil."

"Nothing wrong with that place, but the Hog's Head it is tonight." Malcolm slapped him on the shoulder. "You need some livenin' up, and the Hog's Head on a Saturday is a much more interesting place for that."

"You told me once, you do not bring Gertrude there," Johannes began to protest.

"Aye, and I do not. It's a wee bit rough in there sometimes. She's a lady...not that she couldn't handle herself, of course, but no need to expose her to it."

"I am sure she has been there before," Johannes said with a grin.

"But I've not brought her, and I will not. Fine for a lads' night out, though, eh?" Malcolm asked rhetorically as he steered them into a side street. "Besides, it's not so far from Kilderkin Lane, just a short stumble home after last call."

"A longer 'stumble' for me to Bog End, though," Johannes pointed out.

"Well, if it's more than a pint we're having tonight, just stumble on home with me, then!" He pointed to the basket. "Multry gave you enough for us both for breakfast, more than enough."

"Not more than a pint for me," Johannes said. "I have work I wish to do tomorrow. I need a clear head."

"Even when you're not at the estate, you're working! Time to relax, Honnie! Grandmother Siofre was right."

"Siofre was right? About what?" Johannes asked.

"That you need to spend time . . . with me. Out. Having fun with a kinsman," Malcolm said, hopping over a muddy puddle a few feet from the Hog's Head's door. "And fun we'll have!"

The pub was noisy and smoky, already crowded with patrons of all descriptions, including a few hulking wizards whose faces were obscured by their hoods, possibly with deep shadow charms on them for good measure. Johannes would not have wanted to run into any of them on a dark night, unawares. There were several witches there, as well, and Johannes remembered what Malcolm had said about not bringing Gertrude there. He could easily see why.

As they made their way through the pub, Malcolm stopping every few feet to greet someone he knew, Johannes spied Hagrid sitting over in a dark corner with a few other wizards.

Johannes tugged Malcolm's elbow. "Hagrid is here," he said, leaning forward to catch his ear. "Want to join him?"

Malcolm nodded, slapped someone on the back in parting, and led Johannes across to where Hagrid was playing a dice game with two of the men, one a soft-looking blond wizard in bright blue with a short, wispy beard, and the other a somewhat squat heavy-set wizard with dark skin and a bushy beard and head of hair to rival Hagrid's own. The third, a long string of a man wrapped in a dirty khaki travel cloak, his jaw shadowed with stubble only marginally shorter than the hair on his scalp, was leaning against the wall and smoking a long pipe that contained something other than tobacco...from the smell of it, likely a combination of potent herbs rather than a resinous potion, Johannes thought. Not quite as noxious as some potions he'd encountered, but not particularly healthy nor conducive to maintaining a clear head. Thick curlicues of white smoke wafted from the stranger's pipe, winding their lazy way around the heavy tankards of ale, then drifting downward more thinly in seeming caress of the yellowing bone dice scattered on the scarred and stained oak table.

As he took his seat and set his basket down beside his chair, Johannes discreetly drew his wand from his cloak pocket. As Malcolm was greeting Hagrid, who stood and gave him an enthusiastic thumping, Johannes smiled and cast a fresh air charm under the table. It wouldn't save the rest of the pub from inhaling the fumes from the wizard's smouldering pipe, but it would keep the air clear on their side of the table, at least.

"'Ere, sit 'ere nex' t' me," Hagrid said, pulling Malcolm around and sitting him down in the chair beside his broad bench. "This 'ere's me good friend, Malcolm McGonagall." Hagrid gave Malcolm another friendly pat on the shoulder. "An' this gentleman here is me friend Perfesser Birnbaum," Hagrid continued, grinning at Johannes across the smoky table.

Johannes nodded and smiled at the others.

"Perfesser, Malcolm, this 'ere is Baldy," Hagrid said, gesturing at the dark, hirsute wizard to his left, "though he ain't bald, o' course. And that's Patch Patterson." Patch, the soft blond wizard, nodded in greeting and lifted his ale to them. "An' over here is, um, me new friend!" Hagrid indicated the lean, short-haired wizard in the dark khaki cloak.

The khaki-clad wizard held onto his pipe and opened his mouth to reveal crooked, brown-stained teeth, and said, "E'enin'." His mouth immediately closed around the pipestem again.

"Didn't catch your name," Malcolm said, holding out his hand to the man, who didn't move except to fully remove his pipe from his mouth this time.

"Ye can call me 'Cam.'" Cam's dark eyes shifted, taking in Johannes's appearance and then scanning the others at the table before returning to meet Malcolm's gaze. He quite deliberately put his pipe back in his mouth without offering his hand.

Malcolm slapped the table. "All right, what're we drinking, lads? Next round's on me."

"I'll have another o' these," Hagrid said, draining his tall mug. "Jes' an ale fer me, thanks!"

"Ta, mate! Old Ogden's as a chaser, I think," Patch said, taking advantage of Malcolm's generosity with a bright grin.

"Whiffler sweet ale is my drink," Baldy said, following Hagrid's suit and draining his tankard, then wiping foam from his beard with the back of his hairy hand.

"And you?" Malcolm asked Cam.

"A single malt. Longrow." The man barely seemed to move his lips.

"Aye, then, a house ale, an Ogden's Old Firewhisky, a Whiffler sweet ale, a Longrow, and for you, Honnie?" Malcolm asked, turning to Johannes.

"Just a lager for me, thank you," Johannes said.

"Right, I'll be just a wee," Malcolm said, but as he began to stand, Aberforth came over to the table.

"Eh, Malcolm. Out again? Lady friend mus' be missin' yeh."

"I hope she is, Aberforth, but alas, your brother is keeping her busy at the castle, and she couldn't get away this weekend."

"Well, what'll it be, then?"

Malcolm repeated everyone's order, adding an ale for himself. "Plus a big plate of chips, your biggest."

"Ta, Malcolm!" Hagrid said.

"Good thing you came along when you did," Baldy said to Malcolm with a broad grin, "or Hagrid would be goin' home 'bout now, pockets empty."

Malcolm gestured at the dice. "Not going your way tonight, Hagrid?"

Hagrid shook his head sadly. "Baldy won the last o' me Knuts, wi' naught lef' even fer another beer. But there'll be other nights!"

Patch guffawed. "And if you hadn't paid up, he might've gone after your other nuts, too!" he joked.

The others laughed, Cam giving only a crooked smile.

"How's business? Any interestin' critters lately?" Hagrid asked, adding to his friends, "Malcolm is a curse-breaker and pest-control wizard. Yeh got yerself a bad Boggart, a biting pocketbook, or a nest o' Glumbumbles, he's yer man!" He reached for his fresh tankard of ale.

"Oh, a few," Malcolm replied. "'Tis mostly curses these days, though. A lot of unpleasant little ones, nothing very interesting, just annoying. I did deal with a nasty Knucker recently, though; out in the Romney Marshes, he was."

"A Knucker!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"Aye, you would have liked him, I'm sure," Malcolm said with a smile, knowing of Hagrid's fondness for dragons and all their kin. "But he was more than a nuisance, and he had developed quite an appetite for the local farm animals. The Muggles were becoming alarmed about it."

"Doesn't the Ministry take care of beasts like that?" Patch asked.

Malcolm nodded, munching a long golden chip, then washing it down with a longer swallow of ale. "They do. And they'd sent out Obliviators three times in as many weeks when local Muggles caught sight of the slithery fellow. Friend of mine in the Ministry, Newt Scamander, dropped by a couple weeks ago and asked me if I could take care of it for them. He's in the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures, but they're spread a bit thin and are better with other sorts of beasts. He did come along with me, though." He smirked. "I think he just wanted to confirm I took care of the creature before they paid me."

"Yeh di'n have t' kill 'im, did yeh?" Hagrid asked, wide-eyed.

"That's what the Ministry wanted, but nay, I did not. Where's the fun or sport in that, after all?" Malcolm asked rhetorically. "I did try persuading him that he'd be better off feeding on something other than Muggle livestock, but as you know, Knuckers aren't any more reasonable than dragons...but they're not as clever, either."

"So what did you do?"

"Ah, well, after having to Apparate and Disapparate several times just to try to talk to him...even out of water, a Knucker is fast, so beware if you meet one!...I finally resorted to Plan B."

Cam snorted and relit his pipe.

"What was your Plan B?" Johannes asked.

"Well, you all know already that if there's one thing that a Knucker likes better than a horse, a cow, a pig, or even a sheep, it's a well-baked shepherd's pie, with a bottom crust generous with lard, plenty of butter in the mash, and mushrooms in the gravy!"

"Mushrooms? Hafta remember that," Hagrid said, licking his fingers, then taking more chips. Johannes Levitated a handful of chips over to himself from the other end of the platter.

"Shepherd's pie? You're joking," Patch said with a laugh.

"Not at all," Malcolm replied with a grin. "They have quite a legendary taste for meat pies. I find shepherd's pie is a particular favourite, though!"

"Yer right, there," Hagrid agreed. "They got a real weakness fer meat pies. There was a lad once, murdered a poor Knucker in 'is 'ole with a nasty, poisoned meat pie." He sniffled a bit, thinking of the poor Knucker.

"Pah," spat Cam. "An' ne'er did yeh feeda meat pie t' Knucker, I'll warrant. Ne'er been w'in a mile o' one. Nor a dragon, neither." He bit down on his pipe and gave a brown-stained grin.

"He has ridden dragons," Johannes said, "and faced even worse creatures...and men...and dealt with them all."

"You've ridden a dragon?" Patch asked, sceptical but ready for a good story if there was one in the offing.

"Aye, more than once. The first was a giantess of the Mountains of the Moon, and I rode her from Ethiopia to Egypt. She was a fine beast, though not the friendliest of reptiles."

"Dragons in Africa?" Baldy asked.

"Aye, there are a few species on that continent...rarely seen by Western wizards, though. I once encountered a drove of beautiful Dahomey Rainbow Dragons in the Altacora mountains. Their scales are like many-coloured jewels, and their silvery wings are as light as gossamer and as tough as Graphorn hide. They are a wonder to watch as they glide through the air, glittering against the deep blue sky. The Dahomey dragons are wee things, never growing more than ten or twelve feet long, even the females, but the one who flew me to the Crystal Mountain, she was kin to the Sirrush, with great clawed paws in front and massive talons aft. That dragoness was thirty feet from tip to tip, with a wingspan twice that, a true empress of dragons. It was a pretty thing to hold tight and not be blown from her back like a dry autumn leaf from an old oak, I'll tell you!"

"Pish! Yeh an' yer songs an' yer stories! I heard 'em afore," Cam said with a sneer. "Yeh come in here crawin' awa', tellin' yer stories or singin' yer songs, an' yeh get a drink bought fer yer thirst efter the tellin', gullible gowks scrabblin' t' buy yer ale fer yeh. Yeh and yer fables! All tales fer bairns an' wee childer, ne'er a true word to 'em. Only drink-addled fools trow such crack."

Malcolm just laughed, but despite understanding only three-quarters of what the Scottish wizard said, Johannes felt bound to reply and to stand up for his friend. Hagrid, even more put out by the wizard's tone, leapt to Malcolm's defence first, however.

"I saw Malcolm...that's Perfesser Malcolm t' you...ridin' Isolde, a lively Welsh Green, not yet two years ago now," Hagrid said emphatically. "An' he fought a duel wi' Perfesser Dumbledore an' come out wi' nary a scratch on his own self. Practically blew up the Headmaster, 'e did! Albus Dumbledore...great wizard, Dumbledore...he knows another great wizard when 'e sees one! So yeh better mind yer manners!"

Cam snickered, and Malcolm shook his head.

"My friend does exaggerate," Malcolm said. "The Headmaster beat me soundly and taught me more than one lesson that day, but Hagrid's right that Isolde was a right lively lassie."

"Eh, yeh humped a Welsh whore an' let yer big freen' watch ye, then?" Cam asked, a smirk on his face.

Malcolm put a hand on Hagrid's arm, restraining him. "I'll put those words down to the Longrow," he said softly, "but I do believe it's your last drink at this table tonight."

"Eh? What's this? What's this!" Cam said, taking his pipe from his mouth and slowly rising from his seat, dropping his wand from his sleeve. "Yeh tryin' t' kick me out o' pub? Eh? Eh? 'T'ain't yer pub!"

Two dark-clad wizards at a nearby table pushed their chairs back and stood, as well.

"Not the pub, buckie," Malcolm said with a slight shake of his head, "merely our corner of it."

"Merely our corner of it," Cam mocked. "Yeh lay claim to this stool o' mine, too, then? This be ma corner here! An' ma brithers', too, an yeh will it or yeh won't!" The other two men stepped up to the table. One of them flipped back his cloak revealing tartan robes as he drew his wand, and the other wizard followed suit.

Beneath the table, Johannes drew his wand. He'd not be much help in any fight, but he'd not sit idly by, either.

Malcolm held up both hands, open in a calming gesture. "I've no feud with you, friends, and I don't want to start one."

"Yeh think yer a teugh man," Cam continued, "but yeh ain't no such thing. Yer a teuchter, an' yer only talent is fer tall tales an' naught else."

Hagrid, face red and dark eyes flashing, made a move to stand, but Malcolm's grip tightened, and Hagrid just bared his teeth.

"Just walk away, Cam," Malcolm advised.

"Pah! Walk away! Yeh'd like that! Let yer great oaf freen' here keep lappin' up yer tales, like he laps up crumbs at that old fool's table up there a' Hogwarts. Bet yeh did get a beatin' from th' old man...an' did yeh get a humpin' from him, too?"

With a roar, Hagrid stood and threw the table up on end, tossing it at Cam and crushing him against the wall. Patch quickly slid off his seat and crawled behind Johannes's chair, but could get no farther without being in danger of being hit by one of the hexes now being cast by Cam's two brothers.

Malcolm cast a wandless Protego, deflecting a hex with his right hand as he drew his own wand with his left. Baldy drew his own wand and cast a jinx at the taller of the two brothers, fusing the wizard's eyelids together; before the stocky wizard could cast another spell, however, the shortest brother hit him with a hex that knocked him to the floor, then Cam cast a Finite, restoring his taller brother's sight.

Johannes scarcely had time to cast one Protego before he had to cast another and another. His own experience with any kind of duelling was slight, and he could barely even tell what was happening. He didn't know how Malcolm could react as quickly as he was, casting quickly and efficiently, light jinxes raising boils and bruises on the two brothers, who were undeterred by the unpleasant spells and who continued to cast hexes at Malcolm and his friends.

Hagrid, in the meantime, had raised his tankard and brought it down on Cam's skull before punching him in the jaw with a hard left. The shortest Cam brother, as Johannes now thought of them, began to ignore Malcolm and to cast hexes at Hagrid, who yelped as the spells hit him but whose assault on Cam didn't cease. Even Stunners seemed to bounce off the enraged half-giant, though they did finally succeed in pushing him back into the corner and out of arm's reach of his target.

Sensing a slight opportunity, Johannes cast a spell on the remains of the table, which had been demolished in the flurry of hexes, and the wood sprang to his command, pinning Cam to the wall and bending round his arms and legs as effective shackles and manacles. He spent only a second savouring his success before a Petrificus brushed him, insufficient to petrify him completely, but deadening his right shoulder and arm, rendering him both useless and vulnerable. With Patch cowering behind him, the detritus of their table in front of him, and Malcolm to his left and one of the Cam brothers to his right, Johannes had nowhere to go.

A bright red spell shot from the tall Cam brother's wand, headed for Johannes's chest, and he braced himself, but Malcolm flicked his wand and cast a well-timed block, repelling the spell. The short Cam brother immediately cast a battering hex at Malcolm, who tried to block it with his empty right hand; the spell slid through the wandless Protego and hit Malcolm's face. Hagrid threw his heavy tankard at Malcolm's attacker, hitting the man square in the chest, causing him to double over in pain.

As blood gushed from his mouth, Malcolm finally raised his wand and cast a strong Stupefy at the short wizard, who crumpled to the floor; Malcolm followed this with an Expelliarmus at the tallest brother just as the man was trying to free Cam from his bonds. His own wand wrenched from his hand and flung across the room, the tall wizard made a grab for Cam's wand, and Johannes launched himself forward at the man.

Just as he tackled the tall wizard, Johannes was drenched in water from above, and he heard Aberforth shouting. Rolling over onto the Stunned wizard, he covered his eyes with his left arm, protecting them from the flood of water coming from the pub's ceiling, apparently at Aberforth's command.

"Get out, and bring yer friends with ye," Aberforth shouted. "All of ye. I don't care how, and I don't care who started it. Out! I don't want to call the Aurors in for the likes of ye! OUT! "

Johannes felt himself being hauled up by Hagrid, Malcolm on his other side picking up his wand for him. "Mein Korb," he said, looking around.

"What's that, Perfesser?" Hagrid asked as he bent and picked up Baldy and slung him over his shoulder. Patch had disappeared already.

Johannes blinked water from his eyes and pointed. Peculiarly, the basket was still whole, just wet. Hagrid handed him his basket.

"I said, out," Aberforth said, poking the tallest Cam brother with a table leg.

"But Cam..." The wizard gestured helplessly at his brother, who was still held fast to the wall, though slumped and unconscious.

"Hoy, Perfesser!" Aberforth called. "Perfesser Birnbaum...let this one loose before yeh go."

Malcolm cast a Finite on Johannes's shoulder, then Johannes took his own wand from Malcolm and waved it. The wood released Cam, who collapsed to the floor.

"C'on, Honnie," Malcolm slurred. "Le's ge' ou' o' here."

Malcolm, Johannes, and Hagrid...still carrying Baldy...stumbled across the emptying pub and out into the cool night air. They walked a few yards and then stopped, Malcolm leaning against a wall and holding a handkerchief to his mouth in an ineffective attempt to stop his bleeding, and Hagrid setting down his friend and giving him a shake.

"Baldy! Baldy! Wake up!"

"Here, allow me," Johannes said. "Renervate." Baldy moaned.

"Ta, Perfesser!"

"'Eya, Honnie," Malcolm said. He gestured toward his mouth.

Johannes shook his head, then cast a Coagulare. "It is not very effective, I fear," he said, looking more closely at Malcolm's mouth. "You have loosened teeth." He stepped back. "You are a mess. We should take you to hospital."

"We'll step over to old Aggie Wayland's," Malcolm said, spitting out some blood. "She'll take care of it...good enough for tonight, anyway."

"I'm goin' t' see Baldy back t' his place," Hagrid said, hoisting his woozy friend to his feet. "Sorry 'bout everythin'. I didn't know Cam would be like that. He alway seemed a quiet one."

Malcolm shrugged, wincing slightly at a newly discovered ache. "It was fun. Always fun at the Hog's Head, right, Honnie?" He grinned to somewhat gruesome effect.

"Right," Johannes said with a shake of his head. "Now where is this Aggie?" he asked, hefting his basket in his left hand.

"On our way home, just a hop, skip, and a jump!"

"No jumping for me tonight, Malcolm," Johannes replied, taking Malcolm's elbow. "Nor hopping, nor skipping. We walk. Slowly."

Malcolm laughed.

"You should go to St. Gile's in the morning," Johannes said as they started down the road toward Kilderkin Lane. He looked over at his friend's bloody face and clothes.

"Nay," Malcolm replied. "Melina's there. I'll hop down to St. Mungo's, or over to St. Bridget's in Dublin, if I need to. Aye, St. Bridget's would be best."

Johannes nodded. Better for him, too. Best if Siofre did not learn that he'd gone out with Malcolm and they'd ended up in a brawl with some shady wizards.

They walked in silence until they got to the turning into the lane where Malcolm lived.

"So . . . what did you do with that Knucker?" Johannes asked.

Malcolm laughed, and Johannes began to laugh as well.

"Aye, grand fun at the Hog's Head tonight!" Malcolm said with a broad grin. "As for Mr Knucker, he is now Mr Lizard, living in a modestly furnished glass case in Newt's office at the Ministry."

Chuckling, the two wizards wove their way down the lane to wake Aggie Wayland and have their wounds tended.

Author's Note: A "Knucker" is a legendary water monster, a type of dragon in folklore. They live in knuckerholes and eat livestock. Here, Malcolm considers it "kin" to the dragon.

There are no African dragons listed in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, though it is a rather slim volume, and perhaps The Monster Book of Monsters might list them, or they may appear on the map of dragons of the world in Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit! (I simply extrapolated from real world myths and legends to create the Dahomey Rainbow dragon and the dragon from the Mountains of the Moon.)

A few of Cam's words:

teugh: tough

teuchter: rustic Highlander, a country hick (meant here as an insult)

crawin': crowing

gowks: cuckoos when applied to birds, fools when applied to people

trow: trust

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!