Clutching his case in one hand and a tattered newspaper in the other, Newt ascended the slightly dilapidated stair of the cottage porch where his sister-in-law sat in the chair of a cracked wicker sofa set overseeing some mending spells. Something must have gone wrong with one, as her golden curls were bent downward to sort out a tangle of wool and she didn't appear to notice him. Funny that she hadn't been alerted by the warding.
Newt's gaze slid off to the side, but his words came straight to the point. "How is she?"
Blue eyes blinked and snapped up to meet his. While lowering her wand in one hand, the other went over her heart in surprise. Queenie leapt up and knocked against the wooden table she'd been sitting beside.
"Newt! You're back! Geez, ya almost gave me a heart attack! Oh. I'm sorry you had such a rough trip. But I'm glad you got here so fast—Tina would be too, if, ya know, she could be…" Queenie bit her lip and trailed off, nervously turning her attention back to the domestic spellwork at her side.
This was a partial answer, Newt supposed. Nothing had changed then. He looked out over the lawn. His wife walked down in the tall grass by the river, her long white dress and shawl fluttering behind her in the breeze. Her hair was longer than it had been the last time he'd seen her. Newt had actually apparated by the road even though the cottage had no anti-apparation defense, just so that he could walk up the curving gravel drive and wave to her. She hadn't responded, instead staring out across the water at the ducks and flantanagers that swam gracefully in the flowing water, past the edges that had already frozen. Since Queenie's legilimency was strongest when someone was hurting, he didn't bother trying to put any of this into words for her; his pain was so overwhelming he thought he might choke on it if he tried to speak of it.
It had been five frantic weeks since he'd last seen Tina, and before that he'd barely had three months altogether with her. Their rushed wedding had been a giddy, joyful gap in otherwise dangerous and angst-filled adventures as they and their respective departments did their best to keep up with the machinations of Gellert Grindelwald. Despite all of the disturbing scenes they had encountered, Newt knew there would never be anything more horrifying than finding Tina unconscious on the floor of that filthy back-alley flat in Brooklyn.
If only he had been quicker to put things together, if only she had waited to tell him—or anyone!—that she had worked out the location of the hideout. That was the best and worst of Tina: wonderful instincts for getting to the bottom of a situation coupled with absolutely awful timing. It had taken him a mere few hours of observation to put together that hypothesis after meeting her, and he still hadn't disproved it now after more than two years had gone by. But never before had it brought them quite so much trouble as now.
Though Tina had survived the cuts and bruises and a nasty blow to the head, her memory had been forcefully wiped with none of the usual finesse that left the recipient able to function normally. As incredibly thankful as Newt was that she hadn't been subjected to a killing curse, it was still a mystery just how it happened that Tina had avoided that fate when she'd been so roughly handled otherwise. The Aurors in New York refused to even let her inside headquarters, saying that her continued existence meant that she was most likely a trap-a kind of human incendiary device created by Grindelwald. Newt had loudly argued that in that case she would have been properly obliviated and none of them would have the slightest idea anything had gone wrong, but no one seemed willing to hear him. Their best healers hadn't been able to do a thing for her past mending her scrapes.
Now Tina floated between adolescent memories and a dreamlike state that made it dangerous to leave her alone with a wand. At times, her Auror training seemed to come back partially, and she would panic, begging for her wand until someone, usually Queenie, caved and gave it to her. They'd decided it was best for Tina to leave the city while Newt was traveling, and Queenie had been staying north of the city with her in a little cottage on the banks of the Hudson river that belonged to their aunt. The river was beautiful, but it was also a huge body of moving water, and Tina was standing awfully close...
"She should be safe down there," Queenie said, in answer to his unspoken concern. "She's been real calm these past few days. And I've got her wand. She gave it up easy this last time. Why don't we go down and I can introduce you."
Ah yes, the most painful event he could possibly imagine, barring actually finding his wife beaten bloody on the dirty floor of a rat-hole apartment just hours after he'd begged her to wait for him to return. Newt had already done reintroductions twice and had no desire to do it again. 'Mrs. Scamander, I'd like to introduce myself. I'm your husband.' However they tried to dress it up, this was it in essence. The shock and disbelief mixed with horror that would show on her perfect lovely face played around in his mind. It was insupportable. And yet, if there was to be the slightest hope of improving Tina's condition he had to earn her trust. Over and over every day for the rest of their lives if need be.
Queenie set her mending back in motion with a flick of her wand and grabbed his arm. "Before we go down though, you've gotta tell me—did you find what you were looking for?"
Newt knocked his knee against the side of his battered case. "I've found...something. I honestly have no idea whether or not it will help Tina. There is a plant that grows beneath the cliffs of Swooping Evil's nesting grounds that the locals have used to combat the effects of its venom. Mostly it heals the outward effects, but they have stories of it returning memories in higher concentrations. It's...not got a very nice reputation. Swooping Evil's venom is known to remove only traumatic memories, so this herb is used as a memory stimulant in cases where a subject is suppressing a mental trauma that keeps them from healing, or if others believe the patient is hiding information on a threat to them all. As far as I can tell, it's only non-magic users that have tried to work with it, so I have some hope that in wizarding hands it will prove useful."
"And you want to try to giving it to Tina?"
Queenie looked doubtful and hopeful all at once. It didn't take a legilimens to tell she was thinking that the current state of affairs could not continue. Newt agreed.
"Not me," he said. "No. I'm sorry, but if there's to be any experimentation it absolutely must be done under the supervision of a potions expert. They've got a new potions master at Hogwarts who recently left a post at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies who is supposed to be the top of the line. I couldn't get permission to take Tina to Hogwarts, as your old bosses at MACUSA have listed her as a potential international threat. However, I've finally got Picquery to agree to try treating her at St. Mungo's and this potions expert has agreed to come down to supervise the procedure. MACUSA liked that—once I hinted there might be a cure they started yapping about all the things Tina might be able to tell them about Grindelwald, or whoever it was that left her in Brooklyn."
"But St. Mungo's is in London! Teenie's never been there—she'll be so confused and alone."
Newt winced. "I had hoped that I would be able to explain some of this to her. Does she not seem to be developing any new permanent memories then?"
Treatment at St. Mungo's would be a difficult undertaking if he couldn't convince Tina to trust him before the journey. He could perhaps sedate her and take her in his case, but he hated the thought of keeping her that way.
Queenie put her head to the side, perhaps trying to ignore Newt's agonizing broadcast of his thoughts long enough to answer his question.
"It's hard to say. We've both got a lot of memories of this place—we'd come up to the cottage regularly with our parents before they died. Ma thought the city air was no good for growing girls. Then our aunt would let us stay here during summer vacation. And now, Tina seems to be kinda stuck in thoughts of that time. I tried to catch her up on things, but I'm not sure what sunk in. But she's been way more even-tempered than before you left-and no, Newt, I don't think it's cause you weren't there."
Hearing that fear voiced aloud didn't defang it, instead guilt echoed through him. Newt turned away from Queenie, turned away from where Tina was slowly walking through the brown grass by the river, and pressed his forehead against the peeling white siding of the porch, trying to get himself together. He hadn't honestly expected that Tina would suddenly be back to normal, but seeing her wandering around vacant and confused again brought back all the pain of his hurried departure. It brought back her cruel words, unknowingly spoken.
He looked blankly around the porch, taking in the spare furnishings and the faded red rag rug by the thin-paned glass door that led into the small house. Newt tried to remind himself that Tina did, in fact, like him, and that he certainly hadn't forced her to marry him by any stretch of the imagination. Once upon a time, barely a few months ago, she had quite happily stowed away in his case, surfacing only for laughing turns around the deck, avoiding anyone who might be on the lookout for an unticketed passenger on a fully-booked ocean liner. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that they had to be married before they left, and that he wasn't getting away from her so easily, ever again.
And then he had turned around and left anyway. They'd returned to New York so he could answer a summons from MACUSA, leaving Tina on her own to investigate the disappearance of a no-maj reporter in Brooklyn. He'd left her in mortal peril, and then again to rush around Equatorial Guinea desperately searching for hope. All his philosophical bunk about worry meaning he had to suffer twice went straight out the window after finding Tina. Perhaps it was actually guilt rather than worry, or perhaps he just hadn't had anything precious enough to worry over before.
Queenie walked down the wide wooden steps that had once been painted green, heading across the sloping lawn toward the pale figure by the water's edge. It seemed unlike Queenie not to have freshened up the paint if she'd been there for a while. It was cold, almost December, and the shallow water at the bank of the river crackled with thin ice. Newt trotted obediently behind Queenie, the frozen grass crunching beneath his boots, trying to push his misery down enough to make a decent first impression on his wife. Fourth time's the charm?
"Stop worrying-she'll know something's wrong," Queenie whispered. She quickly looked Newt over, brushing off his blue coat and straightening his tie. She gave up brushing with her hand and used her wand to extract a great cloud of dust from his coat. She gave it a pat and then turned him in the direction of her sister, who had not even looked at them, but instead was staring blankly at the icy edges of the Hudson river.
"Here we go—Tina! Teenie, come here for a minute. There's somebody I want you to meet."
Tina finally turned to them. Her eyes were wide and glassy, and Newt was struck once again with an immense sense of loss. How had he ever been so lucky as to touch that perfect skin, to run his hands through the waves of her hair? To hear her laugh. Now she was vague, unfocused, and a little pale, like one would expect from someone recovering from a long illness. But her posture was still straight, and her stride was strong as she came up to them, staring through him for a long moment. He tried to pull a smile, but felt so sick to his stomach that it probably wasn't much of one.
"Hello," he said finally.
Tina's gaze sharpened and focused on Newt's face. Her expression shifted, melting not into joy or even recognition, but into suspicion.
"Who's this guy?" she demanded of her sister, arms folded across her chest.
Queenie seemed heartened by this change, giving him a hopeful raise of the eyebrows. But Newt was unpleasantly reminded of the day before his departure, when Tina had become belligerent and he had been forced to subdue her so that she didn't hurt herself. Now's not then, he reminded himself. Stick to now. It was all he had in common with Tina after all.
"Tina, this is Newt. You know, I told you we were waiting for him to get back? He's—well, you've met before. Before you lost your memory. Do you remember anything?"
If Queenie was counting on the power of love to clear things up she was to be sadly disappointed in this case. Newt felt another bolt of misery lodge in his stomach. Queenie's hopeful tone seemed to also have a negative effect on Tina. She frowned more deeply.
Newt set down his case and ran his hand through his hair, then held out his hand to her. When she made no move to take it he put it behind his back and gave a small awkward bow.
"Newt Scamander, at your service," he said.
Tina nodded slowly, and held his gaze. So far so good, Newt felt. Tina stepped back quickly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What do you want?"
Newt held up his hands, taking an instinctive half step back of his own.
"All I want is to help you, Tina. If I can. What do you know about your condition?"
"My condition?" asked Tina. "I don't think any condition of mine is any business of a stranger." She paused, chewing on her lower lip and looking him over again. "Are you some kind of doctor?"
"I am not. But I'd like to take you to see some healers who might be able to help you."
"I'm not going anywhere with a stranger."
"Teenie," said Queenie. "We've had this talk. Just because you don't remember somebody doesn't mean you haven't met them. You gotta trust me. You're having trouble with your memory honey."
Tina looked at her sister so fiercely that Queenie rocked back on her heels, hurt playing across her face.
"Since when—memory problems or no memory problems—did you become the boss of me Regina Anne Goldstein? I've spent my whole life since Mom and Pop died taking care of you and this this is what I get?"
Queenie opened her mouth to answer but Newt cut her off.
"I'm so sorry Miss Goldstein," said Newt, trying not to wince as he addressed her. "But there are facts that you should be made aware of so that we can all make the best decisions for your care." Newt looked to Queenie, question in his eyes. Could Tina handle the information he had to give her about her condition or would it be too much too soon? He made the thought quite distinct.
Queenie shrugged and responded out loud.
"She's more alert right now than I've seen her in the past couple weeks. Anyway, there's no harm in trying. If she's not ready she'll just forget it again," Queenie said sadly. "There's been more than a few times that I thought I was getting through to her and it didn't stick."
It was wise to be prepared for the worst outcome but Newt still felt nervous. If this did stay with Tina, what he was about to say to her would shape the tone of their journey, and indeed their relationship until she got her memories back. If she got them back.
Queenie wrapped her arms around her thin jacket. "Brr, it's getting chilly out here. Let's go inside and talk this out, shall we?"
Tina didn't respond to her sister but gathered her long white skirts about her and set off for the cottage at a furious pace.
Queenie hung back by the riverbank to whisper to Newt.
"I know she sounds angry," said Queenie, "but like I said, this is the most awake I've seen her. Probably since you left. If she's got to go to London, it's worth a try seeing if we can talk her into it on her own. I know you don't wanna sedate her. I don't blame you. But if it's what's best for Tina in the long run…"
Queenie trailed off, then hurried after her sister without finishing. She was being pretty vague herself. These past few weeks of caring for her sister on her own must have been hard on her. Tina and Queenie had grown up relying on each other, and as Newt had learned in the days after the attack, suddenly being responsible for making decisions for another person was very wearing.
They entered the cottage. Newt knew that though they'd visited with their parents, this cottage had belonged to Tina and Queenie's grandparents and that their aunt had inherited the house in the city as well as the cottage upon Tina and Queenie's grandparent's death, only a few years after the death of their parents. Newt still didn't know why their grandparents hadn't provided for the girls but it seemed like a bad time to ask. He had at last put together that this time they were staying at the cottage without their aunt's permission. For one thing the place looked distinctly shabby in a way that Queenie usually disliked, and for another he could see that the security workings were mangled. Opening spells were not Queenie's strong suit and Tina must not have been up to helping.
Tina led them through the small cottage which did not look like it had ever been the home of two young girls. The furniture was ancient and severe, much of it too large and heavy for the limited space. Tina passed through the more formal dining room and into the tiny kitchen at the side of the house. There were three small chairs were already arranged around a spindly table which was pressed against the wall. Newt wondered if Jacob had been up to visit. For Queenie's sake, he hoped so.
Tina flung herself into the farthest chair with the air of a sulky teenager.
"Well, mister?" she asked.
Newt carefully perched in the chair across from her, setting down his case beside his chair. He tried to meet Tina's eyes, but quickly gave up and looked to the side out the window at the encroaching night.
"As I said, Miss Goldstein, I'd like to help you. You are aware that you were attacked?"
"Yeah. Queenie told me." Tina nodded at her sister, who was setting in motion the spells for tea. "But I don't remember nothing about it."
That was such an understatement that Newt began to chuckle nervously, slightly hysterically.
Tina glared at him. "You think this is funny mister?"
From the far side of the kitchen where she was conducting the orchestra of tea preparation, Queenie paused. "You don't understand Teenie. Newt is really worried about you. You don't remember but you two were real close."
This was patently the wrong thing to say to Tina. Her glossy black eyebrows rose and she her nostrils flared slightly reminding him of an uneasy horse.
"What do you mean close?" She practically snarled. Her hands once again crossed tightly over her chest.
Newt tried to run some damage control. "She means in part, that I was the one—well, the one to find you after your attack."
Tina leaned forward, interested.
"Where did you find me? Were there Dark Wizards there?"
"No. You were alone when I found you. I don't know who attacked you." Newt closed his eyes against the memory of Tina sprawled on the floor.
Queenie interceded, "That's not really important right now Tina. What we need to talk to you about is what we're gonna do to try to get your memories back."
Queenie plucked a cup and saucer from the air as the teapot poured red-gold liquid into it. She looked at Newt and raised her eyebrows. "So tell us honey what is going to happen now?"
Newt swallowed and wished that that cup of tea were already there for him to fuss with while he gathered his words. He had never been particularly good at people and now it seems more important than ever that he not annoy Tina. He needed to be clear.
"We are going to go to London," Newt said in a voice that he hoped was both soothing and firm. "I have found a plant on my journey that may be able to improve the effectiveness of memory restoration potions. I need to speak with the Hogwarts potion master once we arrive in London. He can travel down to meet us at the hospital next weekend. But if we miss him we will have to wait months for his next trip to London."
"So soon?" asked Queenie."Will we be able to get there in time?"
"There's a steamer that leaves tomorrow night," said Newt. "I know it's a rush, but there's very little else to be done if we'd like to help Tina. Which I would like very much."
Newt looked down at the table. He didn't know what he could say that would convince Tina of his good intentions.
Queenie came to the table with the tea service. She passed out the cups.
"MACUSA won't make any trouble about traveling with her?" asked Queenie.
Newt leaned down and began fiddling with his case.
"I stopped in at headquarters directly after I got off the ship. At first I was forced to speak to Abernathy, but once I finally got an audience with the President, she signed the travel papers willingly enough. I have a thick stack of files to personally deliver to the Minister of Magic in London. She also insisted that any travel be conducted along proper channels, with up-to-date documents. Everything has to be done to the letter, so that the Ministry can't accuse MACUSA of anything. She seemed to think that Tina would be likely to start an international incident, but once I told them that there was a chance of Tina regaining her memories they started going on about having a lead to the whereabouts of Grindelwald. Picquery decided it was worth the risk. These are supposed to insulate MACUSA against any accusations of not disclosing relevant information."
Newt held up his hand with a sheaf of papers taken from the Muggle Worthy compartment of his case. Tina lunged across the table and grabbed them.
"Are these all about me?" she asked. "Wow!"
"Wait please," said Newt. Some of the files included pictures of Tina's injuries. "There are some things in there that you may not be ready to see."
Tina frowned.
"If there is information about me in this folder, mister, then I ought to be able to look at it. Queenie has been telling me that I'm twenty-six, and an auror. That I'm an adult. So I ought to be able to know what's going on."
Newt struggled with this for a moment but since Tina was already opening the file he gave up and sunk back into his chair to await her reaction.
Tina read the name on the file. "This isn't me." she said. "It says Porpentina Esther, sure, and that's my name, but the last name is wrong. This is for somebody named Porpentina Scamander."
Newt took a breath. He would be matter-of-fact. He wouldn't allow either of them to feel uncomfortable. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the scratched wooden surface of the table before him.
"That is your current name. The fact of the matter is that you and I have been married these several months."
Tina looked over the top of the paperwork at him, shocked. The gasp and the scraping of the chair as she rose from the table in horror were as bad as he had imagined. Instead of escaping, Tina leaned over the table at him, her curiosity having overpowered her disgust.
"If we're married mister, where have you been this whole time?"
Newt felt this accusation straight in his gut. He should have been here with Tina. Or should have somehow taken her with him, rather than leaving her to become so unfamiliar with him.
"There were circumstances…" he started.
"Tina! Enough!" said Queenie unable to keep silent any longer. "You have got to understand that Newt has been searching for a way to help you. And he's found one. You are going to go to London and find a way to get you back to your old self. If you could hear yourself now, you'd be so mad. You love Newt!"
"I have no idea who this guy is! He can't even look me in the eye!"
Tina's shoulders were heaving, whether with anger or tears he wasn't sure. Newt scrunched further into the thin chair.
Queenie looked over her eyes wide and sympathetic. She could surely read his thoughts like a flashing neon sign.
"Teenie," Queenie said more calmly, "if Newt thinks that going to London is your best chance of getting better—of regaining your memories or at the very least getting stabilized, we've got to take his advice. I can see the problem, you know. Inside you. Everything's shifting, ever since the accident, always shifting. It's like the beach at Coney Island when we were kids. The tide comes in and however much time you spend on your sand castle, however great it is, the waves wash over it and it gets destroyed. You don't have any firm ground, any way of keeping out of the water, and it scares you so much. It's awful. But none of that is Newt's fault."
"Well, whose fault is it then?" yelled Tina, tears now openly streaking down her face.
Queenie looked at her sadly. Tina self-consciously wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.
"So I'm just supposed to pretend to be married to this English guy?" Tina said, looking at Newt in dismay.
"The papers are just to get you to London, Miss Goldstein," said Newt, "After we've done as much as we can for you then you will be free to decide how you want to live. I don't expect anything from you."
Tina rose, trembling.
"Fine. Tell me when it's time to go."
She ran out of the room, the effect of her exit somewhat diminished by bumping into the door frame on the way out of the kitchen.
"Don't worry, it'll be okay," Queenie said, getting up to clear Tina's place. "She'll go to London, get her memory back, and we can put all this behind us."
Newt wasn't sure if she was talking to him or trying to reassure herself.
Queenie quirked her lips. "Me neither," she said.