Prof. Griffith's door.

Aida was happy that Griffith had taken the apple from her even though it was slightly bruised. Maybe she could be come to be accepted, too, scars and all.

“I grew up learning sheep and horse ranching around Glennfinan, in the Highlands. Mostly I’ve observed wild animals while herding. Most of what I know about magical creatures is from books, but I might have seen a kneazle once for a few seconds. My foster parent, Sean, called me a liar… but it looked just like the creature from the books here at Hogwarts. All it did was walk away. Other than that I’ve never seen a magical creature before, well, other than the astronomy professor. On the ranch I liked to feed the birds whatever grain was going to go to waste, but I always got in trouble for that. I was supposed to skin the rabbits that were always getting at the strawberry garden but I never had the heart for that. Before dawn I would go trigger their traps with a stick. I have been on some hunting trips but I wasn’t allowed to touch the rifle… so as you see, my experience is rather limited with wild creatures.” Aida put some of her hair behind her ears in concentration and stared at the table top.

“I do know that creatures are very aware. They have to be to survive. I also know what it’s like to work with horses, and they respond to leadership like in your story. I was always told I have to be their big mama and take charge, and I have gotten pretty good at that even though the horses all have different personalities. They spend a lot of time in the mountains alone with themselves so they act pretty feral compared to most peoples’, especially around breeding time.” Aida was unsure if she was boring the professor, but she maintained a tone that showed she found the topic very interesting.

“The black Andalusian named Manticore had the wildest heart I’ve ever known. He was a holy terror when we first rescued him from some abusive folks down south. He would kick and bite anything that tried to get near him, and he nearly brought down the corral whenever he was mad. He acted like he hated everything about you, trying to knock you down if you tried to tend to the wounds he kept reopening… He would test you by attacking and seeing how you would respond. It took a long time to win his trust, but no matter how much he tried to scare me, no other horse has ever so deeply enjoyed his brushing and foot picking. For all his fury I think he’s the one that craved affection the most. Manticore and I were becoming best friends, but Sean just couldn’t stop getting mad… I’ll never forgive myself for not finding a way to save him.” Aida’s voice was growing tight but she very aggressively stared at the table, as if she might burn a whole in it with her eyes. She took some deep breaths and forced herself to stay calm. It wouldn’t do to get upset during a conversation about emotional control. She understood that she had to summon a quiet heartbeat on command.

Aida returned to a tranquil state, calmer than she had been at any other point during the conversation. She looked Griffith in the eyes and smiled. “I understand, about feeling yourself. I will be that peace. I will be that strength. If I’m no good now, I will learn and I will become good at it.” Aida looked completely earnest... but there was a peculiar glimmer in her eye that suggested that there was more to these stories, more to this girl, than met the eye. From every angle she appeared completely honest, and indeed she was speaking completely from her heart, but someone with a bit of intuition might have been able to feel that maybe, just maybe, interactions with Aida would not progress linearly and predictably.

Leaning back in her chair, Aida considered Griffith's story again. It was possible that the story was about him, either with him as the friend or as the boy. It could be that something bad happened as a result of the boy feeling fear, and maybe that hurt the boy very much. Aida wondered if the friend was a creature, but whether Griffith had been either character it still seemed like a very sad story. Aida wanted to hear the rest of it. The sense of pain in the story made her want to get closer to the wound, if indeed that was what it was. She wanted to make it feel better if she could. It felt too heavy to simply be an allegory.

So she was a little bit more than what she came across as, then. The story with the horse was something Griffith had heard many times, in one form or another. Every time, it didn't fail to impress him, in some small way. She had helped a creature, helped it heal, and grow. But at the same time, that didn't change the fact that she did not feel sturdy, didn't feel like she had a solid foundation. A rabbit, or a dancing snowflake came to mind, but that was partially because of her fashion choices.

"That's good. So you know something of them, then. To accept a wounded creature, pain and all, and to calmly approach it, to calm it down, to slowly heal the wounds. That is how you grow yourself. Starting out small, looking inwards, seeing something scared, and dark. As you grow up, getting to know that thing, healing it, becoming friends with it, making it into something beautiful, something that can stare through the bleakest mist and still be confident. When creatures look into you, and see that calm confidence, they'll respect it."

Griffith reached into his pocket again, to pull out a little leather-bound notebook, tied to a charcoal pencil. It looked handmade, a little rough around the edges, maybe, bound with waxed thread, and kept closed with a scrap of silk ribbon. The charcoal pencil was little more than a stick of charcoal, and it threatened to smudge the fingers of anyone who dared use it to draw anything, but otherwise, it seemed serviceable enough.

"It's not like they'll instantly respect you, of course. They'll need to be in the right headspace to really pay attention. It'll take patience, and you'll probably end up hurt. So take it slow, although, judging by how you handled manticore, I suspect you already have some idea of what's required. This is a field journal, it's one of the most essential tools a respectable Magizoologist can own. Keep a log of what you see, keep a log of why you think you're seeing it. I'll think of something you can do to help here, and in the meantime, I've got a job for you. Might be something you can handle with a friend or two, if you've a mind to. Do you think you can set up a bird feeder, and log what sort of bird comes by to visit? I know they're not magical, but the line between Zoologist and Magizoologist is pretty fine."

He had been planning on conducting the study himself, until the drama had emerged. It was for a project regarding the flora and fauna of Hogwarts, specifically with younger aspiring Magizoologists in mind. Log what sort of birds lived nearby, and what they liked to eat, what sounds they made, that sort of thing. If the hag threat wasn't around, anyway. As it stood, his project had been on the far back burner for quite some time.

"We can go in back and pick the sort of seed, assuming birds are your style."

He had moved past his story quickly, like a moving vehicle nodding solemnly to a car wreck by the side of the road. He had no plans on lingering, and was moving his attention to the little girl before him. It was for her that he was a professor, wasn't it? Bright young minds with their own opinions on the world. Caring hearts that could see creatures for what they were. A comforting thought, if ever he had one. It was a better reason than the real one, more altruistic by far than a tall welshman using a school for magical children as a shield to protect himself from evil that he had brought upon himself.

Aida was not surprised when Griffith moved past his story quickly, and she had made no effort to pry out his personal information. It was unlike her usual behavior around other people – always as if she were on an intelligence-gathering mission, laying down questions with blinding speed. Certainly this was one reason why she had no friends. Most people were simply convenient sources of information. Not asking was proof of when she cared. Sharing the secrets of your heart was one of the greatest treasures you could give another, as well as one of the most vulnerable positions to put yourself in. Of course the mysteries lurking in his eyes were beguiling, but like seeing a black panther deep in the jungle for one fleeting moment, she was grateful and humbled.

“I can set up a feeder,” said Aida, already wondering where she might find a pipe or other suitable container. “...And I’ll try to write legibly.” Aida was so primed and ready for the job that she blew past any mention of whether ordinary birds were good enough as well as the matter of inviting friends. She already assumed the vast majority of what she would see were what the books called “LBBs,” or “little brown birds” that lacked festive plumage and other exotic features. She didn’t care. She finally had something worth doing here. She finally had a reason to stay.

“Can I play by making different calls and seeing how they act, or do you want me to try to hide so they’ll act as normally as possible?” Aida cocked her head as she looked at the notebook, crinkling her nose as if she would smell it as she tried to figure out what kind of leather it was made of. She wondered if the silk had been made by real silkworms.

Lucia hadn't really wanted to have to go and see Professor "Moffy" Griffith, even though she had never seen him before.
She'd heard of him though - after all, every student had heard of the grumpy Care of Magical Creatures teacher - and wasn't sure that she wanted to see him.
But a promise was a promise, and it had to be kept.
Even if Lucia would really rather have speed-walked back up the hill to the castle, cloak flapping around her ankles, and written a letter to her little sister telling Willow that she had been unsuccessful in her 'quest'.
Little Willow was fascinated by magical creatures, and had got Lucia to promise before she left that she would go and see some, and take pictures to send back home. Lucia had quite been looking forward to it, actually, but that was before she heard who the teacher was.
Silently cursing herself for agreeing to Willow's request, Lucia came to a halt next to the Professor's door. She had no idea that he was currently talking to another student - if she had she would have left, gone back to the safety of the castle, but as it was she didn't. Blissfully unaware of the fact that she would be interrupting Prof. Griffith, Lucia read the notes and shivered, thinking 'He really doesn't want people coming to see him.'
Lucia took a few deep breaths to compose herself, then suddenly realised how many times she had needed to compose herself in the past week. A lot. Although it wasn't really remotely funny, Lucia suddenly burst out laughing in the way that people do when they are so nervous that they can't seem to stop themselves, clutching her sides.
Clamping a hand over her mouth to smother the giggles, Lucia reached up and pulled the silk cord.

Just as an information to @Lucia Fox and anyone else interested in joining this thread!

Griffith is no longer a professor, but there should be a new professor soon that you will probably be able to interact with! Have a nice day and I hope you find other threads of interest to you~ ^~^