Sometimes in my nightly avoiding bed ritual, I play with my hair in front of the bathroom mirror, parting it this way and that. When parted in just the right away, a little parcel of hairs, shorter than the rest comes to the forefront. If I pulled them taut, they would just reach my chin. A remnant of brain surgery just weeks before I graduated high school and turned eighteen. Physical proof of my march into adulthood.
I have visited lairs, burrows and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust and, on occasion, beaten them off with my travelling kettle.
Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them