Gang A-Gley

by byrdgirl

"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley." -Robert Burns. Chapter 3 is up.

1. Chapter 1

It started with a hunch; a hunch based on flimsy evidence, a glimmer of hope and a thin wisp of ash. See, the ash was floating on the breeze, but it was floating against the air current. Newt had seen it… a tiny obscurial wisp. It could have been so much dust. Most people would have mistaken it as such, but not Newt.

Credence.

So, Newt returned to London, finished his book, wrote letters to his friends, Tina and Queenie in New York, and later after his obliviation unraveled, Jacob too. He kept a low profile. But he also began obsessively scanning magical and muggle newspapers for stories of unexplained phenomenon… earthquakes, explosions, building collapses, and such. First, he looked at papers in New York, then America, then he widened his search to Great Britain and finally Europe. His acquaintances at the ministry and in the publishing industry started commenting on how tired he looked. He had several frustrating and uncomfortable conversations with his brother and his mother. He kept searching.

Then Grindlewald escaped. There was nothing that Newt and Grindlewald had in common, except perhaps for their anger over the death of Credence. If Grindlewald suspected, like Newt did, that Credence was still alive, he would go searching for the boy. He had a network of followers throughout the western world, many with questionable scruples. Newt had a six-month head start, and a stack of newspapers.

Newt's luck changed with the arrival of a postcard from France. It was from Queenie and Jacob. Jacob's obliviation hadn't taken the way that everyone expected. He was exposed to swooping evil venom, which obliviates bad memories. That meant that all the intensely good memories that Jacob had of Queenie and Newt and Tina were merely fragmented. After Queenie orchestrated an encounter with Jacob in his bakery, the memories quickly came flooding back.

Newt was happy for them, but like Tina he was concerned about what their future would hold in a city where their relationship was forbidden. They were aware of the challenges as well, so once Jacob was comfortably paying off his loans and had put a little to the side, he and Queenie planned a trip together to Europe. They were toying with the idea of relocating so that they could marry in peace.

Newt was grateful for the postcards he received from them. The letters from Tina stopped shortly after Grindlewald escaped. She was assigned to the international task force focused on capturing him and was somewhere in Europe last he heard. Newt missed exchanging letters with Tina more than he cared to admit. He found himself reading the old letters he saved, but it wasn't the same. The postcards from Queenie and Jacob were his touchstone to the friendships he developed in New York.

This one was different though. The photo on the front was of a magical circus called Le Cirque du Macabre. Newt pulled a face. For the most part, he despised these sorts of operations. They were often fronts for animal traffickers and they preyed on the desperate and the gullible. He didn't like to think of his friends being taken advantage of by such a place.

He was sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of tea when he turned the card over and read. Pickett was crawling between his head and shoulder looking for a comfortable spot. Dougal was out of the case and curled on Newt's lap. The niffler was being entertained by a charmed coin that vanished as soon as he stored it in his pouch and reappeared a few feet away.

Dear Newt,

I'm writing to you because I don't know who else to talk to. I don't know how to get in touch with Tina, and there's no one else I trust with this information.

Credence is alive. I don't know how, or whether he's still an obscurial or not. We saw him at this circus we were visiting. The name is on the card. I recognized him from some flashes I got from Tina. She has nightmares about that night in the subway tunnel. It was definitely him.

Newt, this circus doesn't seem like a good place. Credence wasn't chained up or nothing, but he didn't look happy, and he didn't look well cared for. If he hasn't gotten control of his obscurus, I don't want to think what will happen if he stays there too long.

Jacob and I were scheduled to go to Austria next. I'm sure you've heard the rumors about Grindlewald recruiting followers there. We were going to change those plans, but I think we should try to find Tina, and that seems like a good place to start.

The Circus is outside of Paris until the end of the week. Just ask around when you get here. Someone will be able to point you in the right direction. Please hurry.

Love,

Queenie

P.s. Jacob says hi and sends his best wishes.

Newt placed the postcard on the table and stroked the place behind Dougal's ears that he liked so much. Credence was alive and in Paris. Newt considered a plan of action. His floo wasn't connected to the international network, but there was a public floo just down the road from him. He could be in Paris before noon. With luck, he could have Credence safely away from the circus in a day or two.

"Fancy a trip to Paris, Dougal?"

As soon as Newt arrived in Paris, he made inquiries about the circus. It was operating in an out of the way spot just outside the city. He collected whatever advertising he could find on it. Newt scanned several different flyers boasting everything from a "Snake Girl" to a genuine unicorn. Some of it was probably humbug. Even a witch or a wizard could be fooled by a transfigured horse under the right circumstances. He saw no mention of Credence in any of the advertising, but he didn't really expect to. Obscurials are not something that draws a crowd.

Newt took a room at Le Balai Tordu, a dark, but cozy pub several blocks from Pere Lachaise cemetery. It was far enough away from the French Ministry to avoid being noticed by the few officials that might recognize him. He had a quick dinner at the pub, went over what little information he could find about Cirque du Macabre, fed and checked on his creatures in the case and rearranged some space in there just in case he needed to accommodate a few new residents for a bit.

By the evening he was ready to take a closer look at the circus. The pub owner was a bit surprised when Newt came down from his room wearing a brown coat instead of blue, hair black as pitch with a neat beard and goatee to match, and a scar down his left cheek. He found that since the publication of his book people were more likely to recognize him. That led to more than one tight scrape, so Newt quickly learned that when he was "on business" he should go in disguise.

Despite his surprise, the pub owner was more than willing to let Newt use his floo for a small fee. Since he was familiar with the circus, he gave Newt the name of a pub about a mile away. Newt repeated the destination several times to the innkeeper before thanking him and taking a pinch of floo powder. In his experience, travelling by floo in a foreign country could be extremely tricky, and even though he spoke a little French, he was always careful.

He arrived at Le Couteau Rouillé, in a room almost identical to the one he left. It was dimly lit, smelled of old timbers steeped in centuries of spilled alcohol and smoke, furniture chosen for its durability, and not its aesthetic, and dripping candles hovering in their lanterns. He double checked the directions he had been given to the circus, and 20 minutes later, case in hand, he was walking under the marquee, just another curious onlooker.

He was greeted first by a gauntlet of performers. There was a fire breather who manipulated the flames into shapes… birds, butterflies, and dragons were popular. Just beyond him, a contortionist floated above the crowd as she twisted her body into increasingly improbable configurations. A pair of jugglers… twins it seemed, passed globes of water back and forth between them, while musicians and clowns gamboled amongst the crowd.

It all looked beautiful and bright, but Newt seemed to be the only one who noticed the shadow side of things. The fire breather was disfigured with deep burn scars down one side of his neck. He seemed to flinch at the delighted screams of his audience. The contortionist had dark circles under her eyes, hollows under her cheeks, and a dull pallid complexion that suggested malnourishment. The jugglers were all hard edges. While the audience was transfixed on the water globes as they floated and danced between them, their eyes roamed restlessly over the crowd, like they were hunting.

Newt also noticed the pick pockets. They were mostly children, weaving between the musicians and clowns and audience, lifting wallets and fob watches while their marks were distracted.

Newt took little pleasure in the spectacle, so he wandered off. The circus was a labyrinth of alleys and passageways all branching off the midway. Barkers tried to entice onlookers with games of chance, and peddlers promised genuine love potions and unicorn blood. Newt found himself becoming anxious from all the sensory overload. He avoided making eye contact with the hawkers, quickening his pace. Eventually, he found himself approaching a series of side show tents. Between the tents there were cages on display with some more common attractions… things to draw the onlookers in and promise more exotic wonders for the cost of a ticket.

Newt stopped by a cage teaming with small flying creatures. They were very similar to Cornish Pixies, but with slightly smaller ears, rounder eyes and more purple in their skin tone. Newt recognized them as Calais Fey. The artwork on the cage boasted colorful pictures of the creatures performing tricks… juggling, balancing balls on their noses in mid-air, aerial acrobatics. The creatures were trainable and made good pets if you were willing to put in the work, but judging by their condition, these poor things were probably abused and neglected into compliance.

A nervous chirping from his breast pocket alerted Newt to Pickett's discomfort. Some magical birds preyed on bowtruckles, so the stick creatures had a natural aversion to most smaller flying creatures.

"Alright, Pickett, settle down."

His tiny friend shrank down as far as he could into Newt's pocket.

Next to the cage was a tent advertising Nagini: The Amazing Snake Girl. Newt hadn't seen any sign of Credence yet, so he paid his admission and went in. What he saw made his blood run cold. She was rail thin. Her eyes were dull and darted around the room nervously. Her arms wrapped around her body, possibly out of anxiety, but probably from cold. Her costume was clearly chosen draw attention to her form, but it was no match for the cool autumn air. The cage certainly seemed solid and Newt could see that it locked from the outside. This looked real.

A tall, thin man in a top hat and red waistcoat stepped in front of her cage and announced that the horrifying transformation was about to begin. People jostled closer to the cage to get a good view. Newt hung back. He was becoming increasing uncomfortable about what he was witnessing. All the light in the tent dimmed except for a bright light trained on the cage. The barker in the red coat stepped aside with a flourish. "Mesdames et messieurs, je presente… Nagini!"

At first, nothing happened. The girl seemed to collapse in on herself trying to become as small as possible. A restless murmur ran through the crowd. The barker's eyes hardened, Newt noticed. He rapped an ebony walking cane against the iron bars, and he whispered something to the girl. Whatever he said did the trick. As if she had no control of herself, her body seized. Then it twisted and contorted painfully until the girl was gone, and in her place, a large, writhing snake. Newt was aghast. The poor girl was a maladictus, he was sure of it now! She was being imprisoned and forced to transform, and these people were cheering it.

Newt spun on his heels, eager to leave the tent as quickly as possible. He collided with someone just behind him. He was just about to apologize, when he saw who it was, and the words stuck in his throat.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked. Her American accent stuck out like a sore thumb. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He was overjoyed and anxious all at once. "Tina," he breathed.

Tina instantly grew suspicious. "I think you've got the wrong person," she said, and made to push past him. That was exactly the moment that Pickett decided to rouse himself in Newt's pocket and poke his little head out. He chirped happily at Tina's familiar face. She stopped in her tracks and looked at the little creature, and then at Newt's face again. "Newt?"

He gave her a lopsided smile and held up his case as confirmation. Tina grabbed him by the arm and apparated them both out of the tent to a dark, quiet spot at the edge of the circus. "Newt, what are you doing here?" Newt hesitated to answer. He didn't know what MACUSA knew about Credence, and he also didn't want to get Jacob or Queenie in trouble. He wasn't good at deception, so he found in these cases that no answer was best.

Tina folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Credence. You know, don't you?" He met her gaze when a whoosh of air alerted them both to the arrival of someone new. Newt turned to see who it was and huffed in frustration.

"Goldstein, why on earth did you leave you post… Newt! What are you doing with that ridiculous face on?" Of course, Theseus saw through his disguise instantly. "Hello, brother," Newt said by way of a greeting. He waved his wand and removed the disguise. There didn't seem much point to it at the moment. Another whoosh and a stranger appeared. Tina and Theseus didn't seem alarmed by his presence, so Newt assumed he was friendly. He was tall and broad with short cropped dark hair, sharp hazel eyes and dark olive skin. His outlandish purple suit stood in stark contrast to Tina's black trench coat and Theseus' attempt to dress down in a ratty grey coat and flat cap.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est? Who are you?" The man glared at Newt.

"Mssr. Bisset, may I introduce my brother? This is Newt Scamander. Newt, this is Armand Bisset, senior auror at the French Ministry of Magic."

Bisset's face brightened. His smile was as broad as his shoulders and crinkled the corners of his eyes. "The famous Newt?" He quickly glanced at Tina with a mischievous grin, then back to Newt with an almost childlike glee. "And THAT must be the case!" Newt tightened his grip on his case.

"Indeed," Theseus was curt. "Can we focus a little? We are on a schedule. Newt, it's good to see you, but you need to leave now."

"Not likely, Theseus. I don't work for you."

"He's here for Credence too, sir. Maybe we could use him?" Tina offered.

Theseus looked frustrated. "I'm not going to ask how you know about the obscurial Newt, but we're already dealing with too many variables. Our information suggests that Grindlewald's followers are going to make a move tonight. We doubt he'll be here himself, but we know he is going after Credence and this maladictus the circus has locked up. We can't let that happen. We've located both of them, but we know some of his followers are already here, and in case it has escaped your notice, this circus is not exactly operating above board. All of them against three of us." Tina was giving Theseus a face. She had seen what Newt was capable of and she got the impression that Theseus had an unfairly low opinion of his brother's ability to handle himself. Maybe he was just overprotective.

"So," Newt asked innocently. "You won't be needing a distraction?"

"Exactly, Newt. I can't be worried about you…"

Bisset laughed. "English is not my first language ami, but I don't think that's what he meant." Newt smiled awkwardly. He liked Bisset, he decided.

A few minutes later, Newt was standing outside the fey cage. Theseus agreed to a compromise. Newt would stay out of the way of the aurors, but he would provide a much-needed distraction and hopefully rescue some of the circus' trafficked creatures in the process. They agreed on a rendezvous point near the vardos where the performers slept. Then they quickly separated.

Newt waited until there was no one else around, and then regarded the lock closely. He tried some basic unlocking spells, but he wasn't surprised to find they wouldn't work. Pickett was hiding in an interior pocket and refused to come out. Something about the way the fey moved in the air really made him anxious. So, Newt produced a set of long thin pieces of wire… lock picks. He had spent enough time observing bowtruckles that he picked up a few things about lock picking. It took less than a minute to unlock the enclosure.

As soon as the iron door swung open, he flattened himself against the bars and held as still as possible. The fey exploded out the cage and into the crowds, wreaking havoc… biting, pinching, pulling hair, upending displays and dropping them on unsuspecting people. Panicked screams ensued, and people started running in every direction to avoid the creatures.

Newt smiled a crooked smile of delight.

He moved past the tent with the maladictus in it. Theseus made it clear that he wasn't to interfere with their rescue, and there were other creatures that needed his help. Down the alley there was a caged pair of fwoopers. He deftly picked the lock and lured the birds out with a handful of peanuts and dried fruit. Once they were safely secured in his case, he moved on. Tent to tent, cage to cage, he released animals that were indigenous to the area and safely stored those that weren't for later care and relocation. As the chaos of the fey died down, he knew he would have to leave soon.

He turned a corner, into a darkened area of the circus that he hadn't been to before and halted in his tracks. "Oh no," he breathed to himself. "You didn't." On the side of the tent was the image of an ethereally beautiful woman, her blond hair billowing out behind her, midway through a seductive dance. Warnings of "Adults Only" peppered the tent and a short, but very strong looking wizard guarded the entrance. He had clearly heard the ruckus throughout the grounds but wasn't willing to leave his post. Thinking quickly, Newt waved his free arm about in a panicked manor. "Fire," he shouted at the guard. The man just looked at him stupidly. "Fire! FIRE!" He pointed back the way he had come, and finally the guard understood and sprang into action.

Newt rushed into the tent and sighed in dismay. "You did!" The tent was empty and dimly lit. In the center was a large cage containing the most beautiful girl Newt had ever seen. When she saw him enter, she stood and began to dance fearfully. Newt felt his mind go fuzzy. "Stop," he pleaded. "Don't do that. I'm here to help." He had to think. He wanted to free her. He should free her, but if this girl was full veela as he suspected, and if she had been abused by the circus like the other attractions, then there was no telling how she would react to being released. The girl seemed to take in the situation fully. No guard. No other gawkers. She knew something wasn't right. She looked at Newt with pitiful eyes. "Please let me go. Please! I just want to go home!" Her voice was soft and sweet and oh so desperate.

Newt found himself at the lock without really knowing how he got there. Pickett squeaked in alarm from inside his coat, but the picks were already out. "I'm going to free you now, but I have some friends out there. They're trying to help. Please just go. Don't harm anyone…" The lock clicked and the door swung open. The delicate girl transformed instantly. Dark wings sprouted from her shoulders, and her face grew long and hard and sharp. Her fingers stretched into wicked claws. The vela bust through her cage and Newt took a few steps back, in awe. "Wow," he breathed in admiration.

"Thank you, friend," the girl took off, ripping a hole through the roof of the tent. Newt followed her out and realized with dread that she wasn't heading away from the circus, but towards the few remaining sounds of people. "Bugger," he cursed, and ran after her.

Up ahead he could see flashes of spellfire like lightening. He cleared the alley onto the midway. By now, most of the visitors and bystanders had fled. Unfortunately, Newt couldn't tell the few that remained from Grindlewald's men, which was a problem. An more immediate problem was the veela who was rearing back to attack Bisset right in front of him. He lunged forward. "No, please! He's a friend! He's on our side!" The veela whirled on him, snarling. "No sides," she seethed from her beaklike maw.

At the same time a hand grabbed Newt and spun him around. The fire breather had him by the shoulder, his wand raised for an attack. Newt acted instinctively, swinging his case as hard as he could. He connected with his attacker's jaw and the man went down. At the same time, Bisset had backed up a few steps. He raised his wand and pointed it at the veela. He fired a bright white spell, but he aimed it wide. It flew past the woman and hit the wizard a few meters behind her who was about to attack.

She turned back to Bisset to thank him, but at that moment there were shouts of alarm behind them. They turned, just in time to see a bright flash. Theseus and Tina flew out of an alley, and collide with the ground, hard. Newt and Bisset made eye contact. They nodded in silent agreement and apparated to their comrades' sides, Bisset to Theseus, and Newt to Tina. She was already pushing herself painfully upright when he reached her, and knelt beside her. Alive and mobile, he realized with relief.

The relief was short lived. He looked down the alley from where the attack came. There, in the dim light, was Grindlewald himself. He was flanked by six followers and three of the circus performers, who it seemed had joined him. Two of his followers held Credence and Nagini at wand point.

"Miss Goldstein. Mr. Scamander. How nice to see you again," He purred. Newt was angry, and when Newt got truly angry, he got reckless. He placed his case next to Tina, who was still struggling to her feet. Wand out, he advanced on Grindlewald. "Newt, don't," his brother warned behind him. Grindlewald smiled in amusement.

A fluttering of wings and a soft hiss and the veela dropped from the sky between the two parties. She looked back and forth, sizing up the situation. Grindlewald's eyes grew wide with awe and desire, even though she was still in her less seductive birdlike form. "You are beautiful," he cooed. "Only a true monster could cage such a bird as you. Join me, and I will offer you freedom, and vengeance on those that treated you like an animal."

The veela transformed back into her human form. She advanced on Grindlewald with a sway that made every male in the alley a little stupider. "There is nothing you can offer me that he," she pointed to Newt "hasn't already given me without condition. I know your type, wizard. You take. You don't give." She was very close to Grindlewald now. He watched her approach, enchanted. But just as she was within arm's reach of him, he shook himself and apparated away, his followers close behind.

"No!" Newt shouted in frustration as he watched Credence and Nagini vanish before his eyes. The veela shrieked, transformed back into her bird form and took off. Newt and his auror companions became aware of the chaos around them. The circus performers had rallied and outnumbered the aurors. Now, without Grindlewald's followers and circus patrons to divide their attention. A large group of them were advancing with angry expressions.

"Time to go, I think" Theseus suggested. Newt felt a hand on his shoulder and the familiar tug of apparition. A moment later he found himself in an open field, lit only by the stars and moon. A few yards away there was what looked like a series of Neolithic ruins. Not much to them really; just a couple of standing stones, and 2 partial walls with an opening that had once been a door.

The aurors walked silently and purposefully towards the door, so Newt followed. When he entered, he felt the familiar tingle of protection spells and wards and the space transformed into a basic but serviceable shelter… four walls and a roof, stocked fireplace, a table and five chairs, five cots and a couple of lanterns. Theseus flicked his wand irritably and the fireplace roared to life. Another flick lit the lanterns. When they were all safely inside, he turned on Newt.

"Setting an angry veela loose in that chaos, Newt? What were you thinking?" Theseus was angry, but Newt was used to that.

"I didn't know she was there. You didn't tell me, but I couldn't leave a sentient being locked up in forced servitude like that. Theseus, they were making her…"

"I know what places like that use veelas for, but Newt! We had a plan… a simple plan. We were supposed to stay under the radar. Now Grindlewald has an obscurial and a maladictus and Paracelcus knows what he's planning to do with them."

"How is that my fault, Theseus? This wasn't my plan. I didn't give you faulty intelligence. If I hadn't been there, Grindlewald might have gotten his hands on the veela as well."

Theseus fumed. Newt balled his fists up at his sides. The two brothers glared at each other.

"Why are we here, anyway? Shouldn't we be getting to a floo?" Newt asked, attempting to change the subject.

"They're watching the floo network, Newt." Theseus' voice was terse. He shook his head. "Our portkey is arriving at daybreak, which should be in a few hours," he said loudly enough to be heard by all.

Bisset had settled into one of the chairs at the table, trying very hard not to notice the family squabble happening right in front of him. Instead he was laying out some medical supplies. His left pant leg rolled up to reveal a nasty looking gash, which he set to tending. Tina had taken refuge on one of the cots in a dim corner. Theseus joined Bisset at the table, and a quiet conversation ensued.

Newt tuned them out and walked over to the corner with Tina. Her back was turned to him, and he wasn't really sure how he should approach her. She had to have heard his row with Theseus. She must have heard what Theseus said. "They're watching the floo network." The subtext was clear. This was, at least in part, his fault. Would Tina blame him for loosing Credence once again? He didn't want to say the wrong thing.

"Well, that went a bit pear shaped," he fumbled. Tina turned slightly towards him and laughed miserably. The laughter turned into a sharp intake of breath. Newt's brow creased in concern. He made his way around the cot and knelt in front of her. "You're injured?"

Tina shook her head. "Nothing serious. Bumps and bruises. It'll wait until morning."

Newt chanced a glance at Tina's face, and he noticed a blush creep to her cheeks and the pinch around her eyes. He looked back at Theseus and Bisset in quiet conversation.

Uncharacteristic boldness took him.

"I'm going to check on my creatures," he announced softly to the room. "Tina, would you care to help?" He held out his hand in invitation. She looked up, startled, and met his steady gaze. She took his hand and allowed him to help her up. He set his case up by the cot and led her down the steep steps to his shed.

"Sit there," he pointed to a bench in one corner of the shed. His voice was gentle, but it left little room for argument. Tina sat and eyed him warily. She carefully removed her coat and draped it beside her as she sat. "Would you allow me to help, or would you rather I just get you the medical supplies you need and then take a walk outside for a bit?"

She blinked in surprise. "I…" she blushed again. "I don't think I can reach." Newt waited patiently. She hesitated before reaching for the buttons of her shirt. Newt turned to his shelves and started rummaging for his medical supplies while she worked. Tina's hands shook slightly. This was not how she pictured their reunion. They hadn't even gotten a proper hello yet. She finished with her shirt and shrugged out of it. She felt it pull a little at her lower back where the worst of the pain was coming from. Under her shirt she wore a plain white camisole. She tugged at the hem and hissed as it clung persistently.

Newt turned then and crouched down beside her to inspect her injury. He didn't pull at the fabric at all. Instead he prodded gently at the area through the camisole. "Was this spell fire or the impact with the ground?" He asked.

"A little of both, I think."

Newt considered for a moment, and then went back to his work station. He set a kettle heating on a small 2 burner stove and prepared a glass bowl and wash cloth. Into the bowl he poured a combination of tinctures with a rich herbal scent. Just before the kettle started to whistle, he removed it from the heat and poured it into the bowl.

Tina watched him work with fascination. "Why do you do that?" She asked.

"Do what?"

"Why do you do so much the slow way?"

Newt brought the steaming bowl and wash cloth over to where Tina sat. "You mean the non-magical way?" Tina nodded.

"I prefer this sometimes. It helps me feel grounded. Magic is wonderful, but I think it has the potential to… disconnect us from the physical world. We forget how things work. You know, I've met witches and wizards who don't know how water boils. They can make it boil, but they don't really understand how it works." He soaked the wash cloth in the steaming liquid and pressed it over the camisole. The liquid worked itself into the fabric and onto her skin, loosening the dried blood. The heat soothed her sore muscles. She relaxed a little.

After a few minutes, Newt was able to lift the hem of her shirt up enough to get a good look at the wound. "Hold that, please." Tina held the camisole in place for him as he oh so gently prodded the skin. "Mmmm. That does look unpleasant."

Tina felt a blush rise to her face and she tried to repress the faint tremble that was threatening to overtake her. Not only was she exhausted and hurting like a Salem Fire, but she was acutely aware that a man she was intensely attracted to, had his hands all over her half naked back. Keep it together, Goldstein she admonished herself.

Newt used the hot tincture bath to wash off the rest of the blood and grime from her back. The liquid sometimes stung, but mostly it soothed. Once he was done, he patted it dry with a towel. "Well the good news is that it looks like you didn't get hit directly with anything. This looks more like ricochet from a fire spell of some sort. The bruising on the other hand. That looks like it goes deep. Nothing too serious, but it's going to take a couple of days before it's completely gone."

He got up and took the bowl back to his work area to shuffle through shelves of supplies. "This should take care of the burn and prevent infection." He pulled a bottle. "And this," he read the label on a jar. "Should help with the bruising." He grabbed a fresh cloth and some gauze pads as well.

"This is going to sting a little. I'm sorry about that."

"That's fine."

He got to work, and Morrigan it did sting! Tina sucked a deep breath in through her teeth.

"Sorry," Newt apologized again sympathetically.

To distract herself, Tina let her mind wander. She started to consider the implications of Newt having so many medical supplies in his suitcase, and such extensive first aid knowledge. It wasn't surprising, she decided, with his line of work. But she felt sad at the idea of him taking care of himself so much of the time. What did he do when he couldn't reach?

She was pulled out of her thoughts by a strange cool sensation. She froze in shock when she realized that it was Newt, blowing softly on the burn. Her mind went into a dizzying spin until it landed on a memory of her mother doing the same when she was five and accidentally poured hot wax all over her hand. She wondered idly if, like her mother, Newt was going to kiss it to make it better. She pushed that thought away as quickly as she could and thanked Morrigan that Newt couldn't see how red her face was.

He closed the bottle of burn ointment and opened the jar of bruise cream. As soon as he started rubbing it into her back, her muscles began unknotting themselves. She sighed. "Much better," she purred without thinking. She noticed that Newt paused, and she swore she could hear his breath hitch before continuing. She filed that away in her mind. She wasn't the only one this was affecting then. Good.

Newt covered his work with the gauze pad and put a hand on her shoulder. "You're all done." She lowered she camisole and gratefully started dressing herself again. Newt put away his supplies and cleaned out the bowl with the tincture bath.

By the time he was done, Tina was standing and pulling her coat back on. Newt stood in front of her, once again all nerves and awkwardness.

"Thank you for your help, and your discretion."

Newt smiled and looked away. "It was my pleasure." They both blushed.

"We should probably be getting back up there soon. Bisset is a wonderful auror, but he's also a shameless gossip. We wouldn't want to give him any ammunition."

"You go up. I actually do need to feed my creatures and check on the new arrivals. I'll be up in about a little while." He turned towards the door that led to his magical little world.

"Newt?"

"Yes?" He turned and found that she was right in front of him. Hazel eyes met brown. Tina summoned her courage and reached a hand behind his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. To his credit, Newt didn't miss a beat, returning the gesture. One hand twined into her short hair, the other splayed across her upper back. As first kisses go, it was exactly what Tina had expected; chaste, but speaking of a deeper longing. They could explore that later.

They broke apart, slightly winded. "It's really good to see you again," she smiled.

"And you," Newt breathed.

An awkward pause, and then Tina grinned foolishly. She turned to the stairs that would leader her back to the cool darkness on the French countryside. Newt sighed and left the shed for his nightly rounds.

A few hours later brought a dim predawn glow and a rough looking Frenchman with a rickety looking wheelbarrow. He spoke softly to Bisset and then left.

"Madame et messieurs, the portkey to the ministry departs in one minute." Newt collected his case and made sure that Pickett was safely stored inside (much to the bowtruckle's protests) and joined the group around the barrow.

"Three, two one, now!" The four placed their hands on the wheelbarrow at the same time. They experienced the gut churning feeling of transport by portkey. Moments later, they arrived in a quiet room, with a long table and chairs and a man.

Newt almost fell over backwards in an instinctive attempt to put distance between himself and the man before his rational mind kicked in.

"Sorry Newt. We should have warned you that Mr. Graves would be here."

Newt swallowed his anxiety and shook the man's hand. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Graves." Graves accepted he gesture and looked at Theseus. "You're brother?"

Theseus nodded and Graves returned his gaze to Newt. "Please allow me to extend my regrets to anything you may have suffered at the hands of Grindlewald while he wore my face."

Newt experienced a flash of memory. The feel of gravel and rail stays scraping his face while being electrocuted. He banished the memory from his mind.

"No apologies necessary, sir."

The rest of the party exchanged pleasantries while other officials filed in. Newt was introduced to amongst others, the head of the French aurors and head of the international task force on Grindlewald.

Thus began a day long debriefing filled with questions and planning. Newt was grilled mercilessly on how he discovered Credence's location. He admitted to suspecting his survival and searching for traces of him, but refused to divulge the sources who led him to the circus. The French, English,and American auror's argued over this, but eventually decided to move on.

By dinner time the it was announced that they would take a break, and would reconvene in two hours. Newt announced that he was going for a walk to clear his head.

"Don't go too far brother, and leave the case here."

"Absolutely not," Newt argued.

"Paris isn't as strict about magical creatures as New York, but people are nervous. Things are tense enough and we can't afford another accident. I'll take care of it, and with your permission, I'll even pop in and check on everyone. It's been far too long since I've seen Dougal."

Newt didn't like the idea of leaving his case behind, but in truth, Theseus was excellent with his creatures. He had been entrusted with their care on more than one occasion, and Newt really needed physical distance from the ministry building. The constant press and chatter of ministry types left him more exhausted than his adventure or the subsequent lack of sleep. He relented.

Tina offered to come with him. Newt was sorely tempted to agree, but he really needed to be left alone with his own thoughts.