A while back there was a prompt going around by Shiranai Atsune that basically read "Newt joins Grindelwald." The notion kept bugging me because it was a tough call. I couldn't see Newt just flipping around and joining the dark side for any reason, while at the same time it would be out of character with his gentle nature to simply be evil. I finally compounded all of my musings for how Newt could be coerced or cajoled into joining "the dark side" and played them out in oneshots. The results were rather intriguing, but - as expected - dark.

Some things to note:

If Newt is teamed up with Grindelwald for any reason, do not expect a happy ending. It will be VERY SAD.

These are unconnected oneshots. They might not have any follow up chapters.

Prompts are cool. I like prompts, they give me gleeful ideas and awesome oneshots.

These concepts are up for grabs. I don't care who uses them for their own stories, best of luck with that.

Oh, and Neocolai does not own Fantastic Beasts or anything related to J.K. Rowling's works (which is probably a good thing at the moment).

Concept 1

Double Agent

Newt's POV

"You have to convince him you're sincere."

To any learned wizard, the severity with which a simple phrase was emphasized was unnecessary. Any actor could play a part. Any auror could slip into a role. One simply avoided the tells and missteps, and the inevitable torture and quiet displacement could be avoided for years.

Such agents still ended up ... well, dead. Flamboyant and arrogant, they hovered on the outskirts, terrified of legilimency, skirting about the edges of the enemy camp until their true nature was unshrouded. Their information was shallow, their usefulness quickly spent.

Newt understood the absolution of his role.

Camouflage was not about hiding. It was about change.

Sometimes he was surprised no one noticed. It should have been obvious to those around him. His agitation when Queenie dabbled in his mind, so easily distracted by the merest front; a shield of pain, diverting her from the fretful thoughts that drove him to New York in search of more than a desert habitat. His equal discomfort around her sister, a valiant soul so forthright and unswayable, as fragile as a moth to be crushed if Grindelwald believed she threatened his allegiance. A subtle switch of cases, a perfect allegiance with the most forgettable of muggles, to spur a distraction that would scramble all of M.A.C.U.S.A.'s aurors and bring him unsuspected to the throne of darkness. A revelio that he alone thought to manipulate, after the master of spells neglected to incapacitate an unlearned, disarmed magizoologist.

He fell into his role so easily that Theseus never asked questions when he began training Bunty to look after his creatures. If he left the case on her doorstep one day, refusing this collateral damage... well, perhaps then Theseus would finally recognize that he'd apparated in time to rescue his brother, and not Leta. Maybe it wouldn't pain him as much when he saw his little brother on the other side of the flames. He wouldn't have to hold back then.

Only Dumbledore knew the truth, for as Theseus always complained, Newt was soft clay in the professor's hands. Whatever Dumbledore needed, thus he was shaped. Newt made excuses, and Dumbledore served tea, and all the while information was exchanged. For Grindelwald. For his enemies. Sometimes Newt wasn't sure which.

He palmed blood tokens, and slipped veritaserum into Jacob's cocoa. He posed for the photographers with Theseus and Leta, straining for a smile that he could no longer feel inside. He coddled a zouwu, distracting Tina from Credence's trail, knowing deep down he'd always wanted one, and somehow the mistreated creature knew what was in his heart; that he didn't actually want anyone to be hurt.

Only Theseus would never believe him on that irrevocable day when they stood apart, wands in hand. When he was close enough to slop Grindelwald's brains with a swooping evil; when a legilimens could search his mind and see nothing but loyalty to the greater good; when the war was truly and surely turned in his favor. When that terrible day came he would show his hand and cut them all down with two unforgivable words.

If he could still remember himself by then.

If he wasn't already mad with grief.