Newt couldn't see the Thestrals. Sweet, innocent Newt. He'd seen plenty of creatures die, mourned for them after they drew their last breath, grieved for those that he couldn't save. But he'd never looked Death in the eye as a living, breathing person was plucked from this world.
But Leta had. Onboard a little boat being tossed around on treacherous waters, how many innocent lives had been stolen by the waves that night? She tried not to think of it. Tried not to think of her baby brother.
The Thestrals became Leta's sanctuary. It was ironic, really, that thanks to Newt she had learned to connect with creatures and earn their trust, and yet to be with the Thestrals was to be alone and away from Newt. But sometimes, that was exactly what Leta needed. Newt was kind and pure and wholesome. Sure, he'd glimpsed the darkness in Leta's past and loved her regardless, and he was somewhat of an outcast just like her – he was the one friend whom Leta really trusted. But sometimes, when the darkness became too much, she just needed to get away from all people, including Newt.
The Thestrals were outcasts too. They were feared by all those 'blinked people' for their association with death. But it wasn't their fault – was it? Just like it wasn't her fault her brother died…except it was.
Leta always brought apples for the Thestrals. The adult Thestrals would pluck them right out of her hands, but the foals were more playful, and she'd toss them along the ground and watch as they stumbled forwards to grab them, still a little clumsy on their long, gangly legs.
It was peaceful in the Forest, but not quiet. Humans kept away from the Thestrals, but the other creatures didn't seem to mind at all. Leta spotted Knarls and Bowtruckles almost every time, and even the Centaurs would ride past once in a while. Newt had taught her to interact with the Knarls and Bowtruckles, and they became her friends. She kept out of the way of the Centaurs though, not wanting to anger them. Angry Centaurs could be very dangerous, she knew.
Everything changed after the war. Newt brought Leta with him to visit Hogwarts – Professor Kettleburn wanted some assistance with a few dragons that he'd temporarily adopted. The Ironbellies had been retired following Versailles, and would need to go through slow and heavy customs paperwork before they could return to Ukraine.
Upon arrival, one of the three dragons had escaped. In the ensuing chaos, a team of half a dozen teachers and two dozen Ministry employees, together with Newt and Leta, spent no fewer than thirty-seven hours capturing, calming and bringing back the dragon. It was lucky that Leta was there too, for her skill in a broomstick and fearless daring played a crucial role in luring the dragon towards Newt, the only one who could calm down an Ironbelly.
Crisis averted, Newt and Leta had finally found some solace. Yet covered in bruises and burns, exhausted in body and mind, neither could sleep. They found each other on the third-floor corridor, and their eyes met. They understood.
Wordlessly, Leta grabbed Newt's wrist and began to pull him down the staircase. Before they knew it, they were running through the halls, out the gates and down the hill towards the Forest.
It was as if the Forest had been completely untouched since 1913, before the war began. The trees were lush and green, and the air was brimming with birdsong. Behind every bush and upon every branch, they found signs of life – beautiful, untouched, sacred. But after the horrors of war, the beauty seemed foreign and distant.
Leta's hand never left Newt's wrist until they reached the Thestrals' clearing. Newt hadn't been here before. He knew about it, but it had always been Leta's sanctuary, the only place that was her own. But now, she was sharing it with him.
He could see them now. Tall and magnificent, they trotted forwards to sniff him curiously. They seemed to recognise Leta, and one of the young adults even snorted affectionately into her hair.
She laughed.
The sound seemed fresh and polished in the cold morning air. It echoed through the forest and seemed to blend in harmony with the rustling of the leaves and the chiming of the birds.
Leta hadn't laughed in such a long time.
Newt hadn't laughed in longer.
It was contagious. Soon, they were both rolling over in fits of mirth – over what, they did not know. The Thestrals, far from being put off, continued to probe at them affectionately, each earning a pat or a stroke from the two humans for their efforts.
After some time, all laughed out, it seemed a weight had lifted. Suddenly, the Forest felt like home again. The Bowtruckles emerged from their tree-holes and the Knarls peered out from the bushes. Somewhere high above, a Hippogriff gave a shrill cry as it soared across the sky.
Leta gazed up at the sky. Despite having recently spent thirty-odd hours on a broom, her eyes were filled with a look of longing. Not only for the thrill of flying, but for that sensation of weightlessness, of freedom from all that tied her down.
One of the Thestrals seemed to sense this. He put his head beneath her arm and nudged. This startled her, but she soon recovered and began to stroke his mane with a smile.
This wasn't the Thestral's intention though, and he kept sidling away from her hand on his mane, then coming back to nudge her again. Newt caught on first.
'He wants you to ride him,' Newt said.
Leta looked up at him incredulously, then at the Thestral, who snorted, presumably in agreement. Normally, she might refuse, but on this day, the logical part of Leta's brain had long-since fallen asleep and the longing for freedom rose up greater than ever.
Leta shrugged and mounted the Thestral. As she sat astride the magnificent horse, she glanced over and saw that Newt was also seated bareback on a Thestral, looking completely at home.
There was a pause for a moment, a stillness in the air, almost palpable.
Then they took off.
A great leap from the ground, then a wave of a pair of enormous, powerful wings. They were soaring.
The Black Lake disappeared into a tiny speck in the distance, and the mountains towered ahead of them. They soared through the gap between the mountains, then twisted over and looped back towards the castle. Leta briefly wondered if anyone below was watching, perplexed as they saw the two of them seemingly flying unaided. She glanced to her left to raise this question with Newt, but he was looking so happy, so carefree, that the question died in her throat. Instead, she let a wide grin spread on her face to match Newt's expression, and when the Thestrals dropped into a dive, they both whooped with delight. Memories of war had been left far behind, and now, they were free.