“See, now would be a very good time to say “i told you so,”” your best friend, Rudy, chimed in. You were sitting on the cotton bed in the medial wing, the result of trying to pet a Hippogryff.

A black eye, several scrapes, scratches and bruises later, you still thought it was worth it.

Rodolfo sighed heavily, holding your arm still to clean one of the many claw marks, mutters of disbelief in Spanish heard from under his breath.