A/N I have moved the events backwards for the purposes of this story and to delay the Credence plotline

"An Illustrated Man so dark, will own your very soul!" - 'Something Wicked (That way went)' -Vernian Process

Set the night after Grindelwald escapes MACUSA custody in 'Crimes of Grindelwald'.

London, England, 2nd of February 1927, Outside of the British Ministry for Magic

Newt pulled up the collar of his blue woollen coat further against the chilly wind and dismal rain as he left the Ministry building, making his way on foot back towards the house he owned in London. He could have apparated, probably should have, but the latest of the repeated rejections from the Ministry's travel board had dashed his hopes more than it had the previous times.

Their ridiculous offer for him to be the one to hunt down Credence had shocked him more than he had cared to admit. The very idea that his own brother would believe he would ever agree to join the Auror's hunt for a troubled, innocent boy was… he couldn't imagine what had gone through Theseus's head when he suggested the idea. He, Newt, an Auror? He couldn't imagine ever becoming one of the careerist hypocrites. He might work for the Ministry in his capacity as a member of the department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but he would never stoop to hunting his fellow wizarding kind and actively involving himself in conflict on a regular basis. His current occupation of compiling information for his book on magical creatures was much more to his taste and abilities – travel, independence, regular contact with interesting beasts and the chance to inform others on the subject. Perfect.

The book was in fact very near completion, all that was left was to do now was gain the final approval of the publishing from 'Obscurus Books' and to request a forwarding note from Professor Dumbledore. Hopefully his book would educate the wizarding community a little and help then to understand the creatures of their world – he hoped it would be a much-needed step forward in creature-wizard relations.

He needed to clear his head, the rain was helping, but Newt longed to return home to see his creatures, nothing ever made him feel better than being able to spend time with his friends and this time was no different. People were… difficult for him - always had been - but magical creatures were another matter entirely. No matter how many bites, burns, rashes, broken bones and other injuries he endured; dealing with his Magizoo was far easier to him than any human relationship.

Magical creatures had patterns and behaviours that you could learn, and it was usually a simple matter of gaining their trust by treating them well – simple. People, however, were far more complex and were much more liable to cause pain and be decidedly unpredictable. Like with Leta and Theseus… the only exception he had found to his difficulties had been oddly enough been with Percival Graves of all people.

Since he had released him from his imprisonment in the tunnels beneath New York, they had kept in frequent postal correspondence over the following months. The long distance may have been a significant part of what made the blooming friendship easier, but it may have also been the bluntness that Graves had about him – he was easier to read and had more predictable behaviours… like Newt's creatures. While he also had kept in contact with Tina, Jacob and Queenie, he was never quite sure how to phrase anything with them, as Tina was indecisive by her nature, while her sister was flamboyant and impulsive. It was all rather confusing.

Deciding that he had had enough of walking in the rain to clear his head, Newt ducked into a nearby alley and apparated right onto his front doorstep, unlocking the door with a flick of his wand and bustling into the hallway. He shucked off his wet coat and scarf, throwing it haphazardly onto a nearby table and hastening to put down his case, but then paused… there was a baby Bowtruckle skittering across the carpeted floor towards him. The little creature's stick-like legs were pumping fast to reach Newt, so he reached out a finger and held the Bowtruckle up to his face. He was one of Pickett's children, and the mother Bowtruckle crawled out of Newt's top pocket to meet the younger, both clearly very agitated as they greeted each other. Newt knew instantly that something must be very wrong; baby Bowtruckle were not allowed to leave their homes unless threatened.

"What is it little one?" Newt muttered to him, frowning as he glanced around the room, now noticing that the cabinet he had set aside within his living room for the Bowtruckles was currently blasted apart on the floor nearby. He had felt the need to allow an area in the main house for the Bowtruckle family, because Pickett spent so much of his time in Newt's pocket. He had hollowed out the legs of a cabinet for the creatures to live in - to emulate their natural habitat. The rest of the family were currently clustered together in the fragments of broken wood – all eight of them accounted for and looking to be fine other than their obvious fright.

Now that he looked around, Newt noticed that there were more broken and knocked over objects and furnishings around the room, it looked like there had been some sort of fight in his house. No muggle should have been able to get into his house as he enchanted the doors, windows and locks to keep his creatures safe – it must have been a witch or wizard. Leaving Pickett with her children on the floor, Newt drew his wand and cautiously began scanning the rooms of the ground floor.

To his relief the charms and door to his underground creature paradise were soundly locked and in place; Bunty must have locked up properly as per usual. His ever-helpful assistant should have left by now, so it was unlikely that it was her who did the damage, there was no sign of her coat on the rack in the hall, so she was probably at home – unless she was with Newt she never tended to stay long after her hours.

Finding nothing on the ground floor, Newt ascended the stairs to his bedroom, the door was ajar, and he heard broken glass crunch beneath his worn leather boots as he pushed the door fully open. To his shock and dismay, he saw Bunty lying in a pool of shattered mirror pieces and blood, he quickly knelt by the woman, checking her wrist, feeling a flood of relief as he felt a strong, if slightly thready pulse beneath his warm fingertips. She was just unconscious; by the looks of it had been blasted back into the mirror and had hit her head, if the bloody mark on her forehead was anything to go by.

He only had a split second's warning from the crunching of glass behind him that made him aware of another's presence, before a hex exploded the wardrobe door in front of where he had been standing a mere second before. He re-apparated at the top of the stairs behind his attacker, sending a quick flurry of jinxes and hexes in the direction of his hooded attacker which were repelled and retaliated ten-fold. Newt deflected most of them, but one clipped his shoulder, and he faltered momentarily, his opponent took advantage of his moment of weakness and shouted a more powerful verbal spell. "Alarte Ascendare!"

Unfortunately, that spell happened to be one Newt was painfully familiar with from past duelling sessions with Theseus – the red streak of light sent him flying through the air, crashing backwards through the bannister and onto the ground-floor hallway. The air was knocked out of Newt's lungs and his shoulders, back and arms took the brunt of the fall, he rolled quickly to his feet as he heard footsteps clattering down the staircase. He took a moment to flick his wand at his case, sending it far away from the house - to the only place he knew it would be safe - before he flung himself out of the front door, apparating the moment he left the building.

He was not a violent man and did not want to become involved in conflict unless absolutely necessary, so retreat seemed like the best idea at the moment. Once the familiar, sickening sensation of being squished out of existence ended, Newt took a moment to assess the dark tunnel he had appeared in. It was an area of the tube system that had yet to be completed – he had discovered it the previous year while chasing a rogue Demiguise - later named Dougal - that had been brought to his attention by a local warlock who, at the time had been hunting it for it's precious skin. Newt wasn't really sure why he had chosen here as his first escape point, but it was at least deserted and out of the way, should his pursuer find him once more. He didn't want anyone else getting caught in a crossfire between him and whoever was after him.

He stood for a few minutes, simply recollecting his thoughts, trying to think of what he should do. The man who attacked him was - for the moment - an unknown, he could only think of a few reasons why someone might try to lay a trap for him in his own home. The first was because they were one of the magical creature hunters that he had previously encountered and angered - because he had saved the creatures from the greedy, cruel men. But that didn't seem too likely if they left the Bowtruckles alive and mostly unharmed. The only other idea that occurred to him was much worse…that they were supporters of Grindelwald who wanted revenge on Newt for his part in the dark wizard's capture.

It made sense – Grindelwald's trial was meant to have been held yesterday according to what Theseus and Tina had told him, so Grindelwald's fanatics might well be angry at the loss of their hero. Deciding that going to his brother might well be the best decision right now - despite how much he wished he had a better alternative - Newt knew that Theseus was probably the only person in London whom he could turn to.

Suddenly, the crack of someone apparating alerted Newt to another wizard's arrival, and he swivelled around on his heel to face the newcomer. His heart thundered so loudly in his ears that he almost didn't hear the words that echoed down the tunnel with soft, dangerous clarity, but Gellert Grindelwald's voice was hard to mistake. "I do apologise for Abernathy's over-enthusiasm in following my orders to collect you, but being locked up in MACUSA's highest security cells will do that to a man."

The leather-clad man strolled slowly, leisurely down the tunnel towards him, white-blonde hair and silver eye gleaming in the moonlight that leaked from the open end of the tunnel. Newt held up his wand in readiness to defend himself, shock causing adrenaline to course through his veins, his hands shook slightly as he warily eyed the approaching wizard.

Attacking first was probably not a good idea, his duelling skills were no match for Grindelwald's - they never were – he had only managed to apprehend him last time with a combination of surprise, luck and the help of a Swooping Evil. He was way out of his depth – apparition seemed like the best approach again. As if sensing Newt's thoughts, Grindelwald halted a few feet from him and nodded his head behind Newt, glancing behind himself the younger wizard saw a golden shimmer of magic covering the other end of the tunnel.

"There's no point in attempting to apparate away to your brother, Mr Scamander, I've heard that apparating into a shield of this power is quite the unpleasant experience." Grindelwald cautioned him, a slight smirk twisting at the corner of his pale lips. Newt remained silent, unsure of what now to do – he had no way of escape, no creatures to assist him and no one knew where he was.

Looks like fighting was the only option he had.

Newt sent a flurry of hexes towards Grindelwald, who deflected them so easily that the Magizoologist knew instantly that he didn't stand a chance. He cast a shielding charm in anticipation of the attack he knew was coming, the spell held for not even a minute under the onslaught before Grindelwald broke through with a casual flick of the Elder wand. Newt staggered back a step or two, before one final spell sent him crashing back into the shield behind him, fiery sparks of pain lanced up his spine and all through his torso before he fell to the ground.

"Let's see how you like it, Mr Scamander." Grindelwald murmured coldly, flicking his wand to draw the younger man up onto his knees, thin silvery chains appearing and lashing themselves around Newt's arms – binding him from wrist to shoulder. He became painfully aware of the similarities between what had happened the last time they met, in New York – the tunnel, one of them bound and on their knees. He just wished it wasn't this way around.

He could still feel the reassuring weight of his wand pressed onto the back of his palm, crushed up against his skin by the magical bindings, it allowed Newt to feel a small thrill of hope. If he could manage to manoeuvre his wand around into his palm, he might just be able to take Grindelwald by surprise long enough to escape.

He felt Grindelwald's gaze pierce him for a several long moments before the man moved behind him, the bonds suddenly loosened around his hands. The weight of his wand fell away and a moment later Grindelwald moved back in front of him, Newt's wand held lightly in his pale grip. A mass of dread settled upon Newt's chest as his last hope was taken away and the chains tightened around him once more.

He let out a quiet grunt as the bonds pulled harshly on his already sore arms and shoulders, but he kept his gaze fixed to the ground. Newt's natural shyness and uncomfortable behaviour around confrontation, and if he was honest - humans in general – was taking over. He couldn't bring himself to meet the gaze of the powerful dark wizard that stood before him – not necessarily out of fear, more uncertainty of what he wanted with him. That combined with the crushing feeling of helplessness that was now weighing down on him.

No one knew where he was. His creatures, at least were safe, tucked away in his case in a place that Grindelwald would likely never find them - that was one mercy. The rest were magically protected by his underground haven and hopefully Bunty would recover enough to take care of them. But the feeling of knowing that he was alone and defenceless against the greatest dark wizard of his time was understandably... disconcerting to say the least.

"There now, Mr Scamander, I asked you a question…" Grindelwald's voice was still soft and almost coaxing, but Newt could tell that it was a practiced calm, covering a cold kind of fury. Grindelwald's ever superior, cold demeanour in place like an impenetrable shield. He kept his gaze fixed downwards, not bowing his head or slumping under the gaze, just averting eye contact.

Grindelwald suddenly gripped his coppery-blonde hair by the fringe and forced the younger man to look into those eerie mismatched eyes. Newt shifted uncomfortably at the forced human contact but made sure to convey with his own gaze that he was not going to submit quite so easily to Grindelwald. The dark wizard seemed to see the defiance in his eyes and a small, slightly wonder-filled smile flitted across his face.

"I was hoping you would show that fire again, I suppose that must be what Dumbledore sees in you." He released Newt's hair and took a step back to regard him for a long few moments. Newt shifted uncomfortably under the stare.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to find out for myself, won't I?" Grindelwald's expression then turned ugly, another sneer turning up his pale lips as he gripped Newt by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

"For a man who claims not to choose sides, you've certainly picked the wrong one by opposing me. You might just live to regret that, Mr Scamander."

There was a crack and then the tunnel was empty.