“Iwin…he was so scared! Oh I hate this! I hate this!” Giselle clung to her husband, a hand on his chest as little Iwin, trunk in tow, walked off towards the vehicle that would take him to Durmstrang.

Iwin indeed had looked wide-eyed and frightened at all of the people surrounding them, kissing his mother goodbye with misty eyes as Giselle sniffled.

Another boy, equally as small but with a loud voice, ran over little Iwin’s foot with his trunk on accident. Iwin reacted verbally, and as the other boy apologized, Iwin smirked, and they shook hands.

“He’ll be fine.”