Hogwarts!AU (continued 3)

Now with more content!
== Dragon Whisperer ==
Summary: Chuck charms dragons—and his Care of Magical Creatures professor.
4 September 2017; (17 days 'til transformation); Hogwarts, Scotland, United Kingdom
"I have a treat for you lucky ones today!" sings Hagrid, setting a peeping and hissing basket on the classroom's head table.
"Is it /dragons?" mocks Cameron.
"It's dragons~!"
"Of course it's dragons," mutters Liv. "It's always dragons on the first day of fourth year."
Hagrid tilts the basket.
A dozen bitty creatures tumble out and toddle across the surface.
About half the class coos, even as most keep their distance from the tiny needle-teeth.
"Mind yer fingers! They bite."
"Of /course they bite."
"Are these /real baby dragons?" worries Gail.
"Nah, they're just transfigured teacups from the kitchen, but their behaviour's one-hundred-percent accurate," Hagrid assures.
Chuck rolls his eyes, crosses his arms on the tabletop, cushions his head on them.
"You'll get chomped, Hansen."
He half-closes his eyes, uses his peripheral vision to watch the creatures. "Not a threat to 'em so they won't bother me."
"You're twenty times their size. Just /breathing is threatening."
"Now, now," chides Hagrid. "Chuck there has the right idea. Dragons are a lot like really big cats an' dogs. Keep yerself soft, don't hold eye contact, move slow around 'em an' ye should be fine."
Grumbling as Chuck lets his eyes drift shut.
""How many of you've done the reading?""
Rustling as hands wander into the air.
""Most of you. Good, good. So ... I'll point to a dragon and you sing out the species. Let's start with ... this one.""
""Ukrainian Ironbelly.""
""Good, Liv! What about this li'l beauty?""
A beat.
""Peruvian Vipertooth?""
""Exactly, Anna. And the one poking about Chuck's elbow?""
""That's a Swedish Short-Snout.""
""Right. Now, which species're native t' the British Isles?""
""Welsh Greens!""
Something noses Chuck's sleeve.
""Hebridean Blacks!""
Chuck peeks out at the Short-Snout, huffs a sigh, closes his eyes.
""That's right!""
It huffs back, clambers up Chuck's robe, tucks itself into the crook of his elbow.
""What family manages the Greenies?""
""Pritchard!""
""Exactly! Where's the Reserve for 'em?""
""Between the A5 and Llanfairfechan.""
""What's their favourite food?""
""Red deer.""
""And?""
Silence.
Chuck sighs, "Feral goat. Only reason the population's not outta control around the reserve."
""Right on!""
Chuck sniffs.
Something flutters in the vicinity of his ear.
""Uh, Hansen?"" whispers Aimee.
"Yea?"
""One of 'em's—""
"Leave it."
""O-okaaay ....""
The fluttering stops and something small and dense and warm buries itself in his hair.
""Who manages the Blackies?"" prompts Hagrid.
""The MacFustys,"" says Daisy
"The MacIvers," corrects Chuck.
"The book says—"
""You're right the book says MacFusty and they're the folks who answer to the Ministry 'bout 'em, but it's /actually the MacIvers who work on the Reserve these days.""
Daisy challenges, ""Chuck, how'd you know that?""
"I've read all their books in the library an' they say so."
""You've read /all the MacIver books?"" Hagrid sounds impressed.
Chuck shrugs—
Tiny claws dig into his back.
—holds very still as another dragon curls up on his nape, says, "Yea. I got bored."
""Are you thinkin' of going into dragonology?""
Chuck can /hear the sparkles in Hagrid's eyes.
"Not really. Just bored."
""Ye might be a natural, Hansen.""
""Chuck Hansen: dragon whisperer,"" snickers Daisy.
He snorts—gently—says, "I'll think about it."
An angry hiss and snapping teeth.
""Anna, keep movin' how you're movin', but look somewhere else. You're making her nervous staring like that.""
She whimpers.
Chuck cracks an eye—
Anna's still got her eyes locked on the mini Hungarian Horntail.
—hums low, reassuring.
The Horntail squawks, hackles up, backs away from Anna until its tail bumps Chuck's forearm.
Chuck hums reassurance.
Horntail grumbles and keeps a sharp watch.
Chuck shifts a bit—careful not to disturb the perchers—gets more of himself between Horny at the rest of the class.
Horny rubs its cheek against his sleeve, closes its eyes.
Chuck lets his fall shut, too.
""You're a natural,"" breathes Hagrid.
Chuck sighs as Horny tries to worm its spiky self under his chin.