Slang Words
Bunny - Someone who looks adorably lost
Fakeloo Artist - A Con Man
Mug - A dumb man
Rag-A-Muffin - A mucky / scruffy person
Mary Lou Barebone watched in silence as the children shuffled inside, her heart aching as she observed the trembling. There was no snow yet, but there was a definite bite to the wind that the children, garbed in their threadbare clothing struggled with.
How could she not open the doors to them? To allow them off the streets for a while, to put warm food in their bellies and help strengthen them against both the physical world and the evil that corrupted it; it was a task that filled her with warmth. After all, did Isiah not say to give your own food to the hungry, and shelter to the homeless? Did he not state that in doing this your own darkness would become as bright as the noonday sun?
Mary Lou held to that idea. She fed those who hungered, she had even taken some of the needy them in and given them shelter. She tried to see to their spiritual needs too, educating them on the evils of the world, on the witches who roamed their streets. The woman was no fool though and she was aware that many of the leaflets were dropped as soon as the children left the block, but she didn't give up, nor did she stop feeding them. If she could get through to just one or two children, then surely it would be enough.
And she did need help, for Mary Lou had her own darkness, she hid it as best she could but she could not deny its existence; the anger that bubbled just below the surface, fed by the fear of what she knew was around her.
Witchcraft!
The truth was that there were witches. Stories of them went back for centuries, and their existence likely went back further than that. Her great grandfather had been born in Boston and then raised there nearly a century after the Salem Witch Trials but he always spoke of the people of the area and of the memories they held of witchcraft.
The most telling sign that you had encountered a witch was a memory loss. She had spoken to countless people in her youth, put real effort in finding out who had genuinely encountered magic and those who chose to lie for attention, for she did not want to accuse people of witchcraft if they were not an actual witch; to damage someone's reputation simply to gain attention would be both false and cruel.
But there were people who had gaps in their memories, there were those who had hidden from the evildoers and had seen these witches performing spells with their wands; the proof was there but it was difficult to get anyone to listen. It didn't stop her from trying though.
She herself had encountered a witch a few weeks ago. She had no recollection of the incident, but she had no memory of that afternoon at all. She had returned home, ready to have a read and find inspiration for the next day, only to hear Modesty and Credence laughing upstairs. She had stood up to go find out what had them carrying on so improperly, but then she had been sat down at the table. The sun had been low in the sky and Credence was apologising for returning late as he came back in the door.
She'd been so confused that she had simply let him head upstairs but that night she had been too frightened to sleep. She had heard of others describing this perplexing memory loss, but in comparison to those who had actually seen magic, it had always seemed mild. However, when she had gone up that evening, she had knelt down and prayed for forgiveness; for not knowing what had happened had to be worse.
She didn't know what had gone on; those witches could have done anything to her and she had no way of knowing what had happened. How many people did this happen to, who lost parts of their day but were not aware enough to question it?
She had remained on her knees the whole night, praying for forgiveness and protection, and the next day she threw herself into her work with an edge of desperation.
Now, she never missed a day. She would preach to anyone who would listen, even if there was only one person there noticing her. There were stories floating around of a demon, a shapeless darkness that left destruction in its wake, and it was her duty to warn people before it was too late.
"Don't forget your leaflets." Chastity gently reminded them, bringing a smile to Mary Lou's face.
Chastity had been the first child she had adopted as her own, her original parents unfit to take care of themselves, never mind a babe. It had been a struggle, working out what she needed to do for the child, but her parish had been an endless pillar of strength. They had given her food, praise and advice while she had gotten her feet under her, and now with three children and a more outspoken voice than any other in the church, they still made her feel welcome on a Sunday.
In return, she taught the Sunday school. She dedicated the Sabbath to helping the education of the children, in the hope that they would be able to find work for themselves. Her efforts were appreciated, and sometimes she struggled with pride when the children thanked her for her time.
But the children were important and she would not see them disheartened by her own personal battle with darkness; instead she would stand and preach against witchcraft because these children were innocent and she wouldn't let it bring them down. The thought of one of her children coming back and reporting a memory loss made her shudder and she quickly got to her feet.
"Ma?" Chastity was watching her, a curious tilt to her head.
Mary Lou pulled on her coat, fastening it as she turned to face the young woman and remind her of the day's plan, "I'm going to speak at the bank today. Those who are caught in the dazzlin' light of this age need to watch out for the darkness."
Chastity bowed her head, whispering, "The magic that's tearing up the city."
Mary Lou nodded, but didn't speak as she tugged on her hat and gloves.
"I'll make dinner for the children. I'm nearly finished with the next batch of leaflets." She told her mother softly. Mary Lou couldn't help turning to smile at the girl, the shining lights of New York had nothing on her girl, and she was ever hopeful that she would influence the other two.
Not that Modesty was any bother, Mary Lou mused as she walked towards the bank. She didn't smile as easily as her sister but she was a strong girl and once she had finished her education, she would probably have more confidence in speaking out than her sister. Chastity was gentle, soft spoken and didn't like confrontation, whereas Modesty didn't flinch when other children disagreed with her.
The girls were the joys of her life, both pure and wonderful.
And how Mary Lou wished she could say the same for their brother. Her eyes flickered to the ruined house down one street; the work of a demon, though no one else seemed to acknowledge it.
Credence. He was an awkward young man who liked to push his boundaries, with an interest in witchcraft that made her sick. The questions he asked… His mother had been a witch, Mary Lou was certain. There had been injuries that had healed too fast, the way people couldn't keep track of her, her ability to head into a dead end alley and disappear.
Mary Lou had confronted her, she'd pointed out to others what she was and people had noticed. It was more than a decade since a band of them had gone to confront her at her house, but she had ran into another room and once again disappeared.
The woman had never returned, but she had left behind a young child, cowering under the table by the fire. Seeing two frightened eyes peering up had melted away the anger that had threatened to overwhelm, and she had taken the boy home. He'd been more of a struggle than Chastity, flinching often and it had been over a year before he had spoken a word.
Mary Lou was a determined woman and though she never scared her son by telling him that his mother had been a witch, she kept a close eye on him. She worried that the woman would one day return for him, and so ordered him to keep to busy places and to be home before night, she made certain that he understood how evil magic was, and what happened to those who succumbed to it in their afterlives.
If he had magic in his blood, she would ensure he never used it. He would not become some evil, spell-flinging witch destined to Hell for eternity. She hoped it wasn't pride that made her hang onto Credence, a false belief that she could stamp out such an evil. In Exodus, it stated that she should not permit a witch to live, and yet in the same book she was also called to not commit murder.
She clung harder to the Ten Commandments than she did to the evil of witches, and acknowledged this as she saw the banner that Credence had headed out with that morning. As much as she hated witchcraft, the thought of murder made her nauseous and she was determined to do right by the boy.
She stood tall on the steps and faced the streets, "You, out there! Surely you've noticed the going ons of recent times!"
A few people stopped to watch her, one or two with the ever present judgement that occurred when she spoke like this, but there were others who simply stopped to listen.
She looked earnestly out over them, "Surely you heard last night, of the demon that is ravaging our city? Of this modern evil that is wreaking havoc not in some far off land, but here and now, in this very city, not far from this bank!"
Another few stopped and she heard murmurs of agreement.
"These journalists can dress it up however they like but a monster is still a monster and we cannot allow ourselves to become lazy in protecting ourselves to these things. Let us not be blind to the things that roam our streets, even if they scare us! How can we keep ourselves, our children safe if we wilfully turn our eyes away?!"
Several people moved on, realising that her message had already been spoken, and that their pride allowed them to ignore it.
She took a deep breath before speaking again, she could not allow these things to occur without some resistance. "We've come far with all the contraptions and gadgets we've gained over recent years and this great city sparkles with the jewels of man's invention! Movie theatres, automobiles, the wireless, electric lights; all dazzle and bewitch us!"
A small number of people trickled into the crowd before her, including a young man in a blue coat. His gentle expression and obvious curiosity reminded her of Chastity and she felt a need to protect this innocent that had lasted into adulthood, and to ensure he could continue to keep himself safe from others.
"But where there is light there is shadow, friend. Something is stalking our city, wreaking destruction and then disappearin' without a trace." She looked out over those gathered to listen, her expression imploring as she continued. "We have to fight! Join us, the Second Salemers, in our fight!"
There was a murmur through the crowd again, and some people were nodding their heads. Some were present at most of their meetings, having recognised the truth and needing to listen to give themselves the confidence to fight what was out there. Others, such as the young man in the blue coat, had clearly never encountered them before. It was upsetting that some in New York ad not yet heard their message. Nearby, she watched as her children arrived, the freshly typed leaflets clutched in their hands as they watched.
She turned her most charming smile on the young man near the front, "You, friend! What drew you to our meeting today?"
He jumped slightly, "Oh, I was just… passing." His accent was English, and Mary Lou quickly recognised her chance to have their message passed across the ocean.
"Are you a seeker? A seeker after truth?"
A smile twitched at his lips and he replied, "I'm more of a chaser, really."
The way he struggled to make eye contact made her doubt the truth of his statement for a moment. Chasing the truth rather than seeking it implied a certain aggression to his actions, but she then wondered if he was an academic, and his chasing involved endless hunting through complex texts to find the truth.
She smiled at him again before turning her attention to the others in the crowd, not wanting them to lose interest, "Heed my words and heed my warning and laugh if you dare; witches live among us! We have to fight together for the sake of our children, for the sake of tomorrow!"
As her children were handing out leaflets to those gathered, she looked back at the young man, "What do you say to that, friend?"
He had a startled expression on his face again and he wasn't looking at her, but she didn't assume that he wasn't listening. It was foolish to assume that you could only be heard by those looking at you and some people struggled with eye contact.
"Excuse me." The young man suddenly hurried past her, up the steps of the bank.
Perhaps she had focussed too much on him; it seemed to have scared him off. Instead, she turned her attention back to those before her, "Witches live among us! They can hide and they can lie, but we know the truth!"
She smiled as she saw that her children had given leaflets to everyone present. People could be safe if they were simply educated enough to know what precautions to take.
Inside the bank, Jacob Kowalski was battling his nerves. It had been hard enough to summon the courage to send that first letter off to discuss getting a loan for a bakery and he had thought that he'd been lucky to even get a meeting… He took a deep breath and tried to refocus his mind on what he was going to say. He and Mildred would be fine if he could just prove to her that he could get this sorted.
Neither of them were exactly gay at the moment and it was proving a real hurdle. They both wanted to settle down and have a family but she had said no to even setting a date until he got out of the cannery; it wasn't even the money. His lovely fiancée had explained that his inability to smile anymore was putting a real downer on their time together and that if they married then she wouldn't want to inflict it on their future children.
The added pressure wasn't helping.
A young man dropped onto the bench next to him, head swivelling as he looked around.
Small talk. That made time pass faster, and a bit of human connection to ease his nerves. He turned a little and asked, "Hi. What brings you here?"
The young man looked lost, as though he didn't quite know how he'd gotten there, "Same thing as you…" he replied.
"You're here to get a loan to open up a bakery?"
"Yes." He still seemed a bunny, unsure of where he was, but Jacob couldn't help warming to him slightly.
"What are the odds of that?" He wondered, but he couldn't hold it against the other man who was squirming next to him. "Well, may the best man win, I guess."
"Excuse me."
Nerves must have gotten the better of him as the guy ignored the hand that Jacob held out and ran off. However, in his place there lay a large, silver egg and Jacob quickly looked back up again, "Hey mister… Hey, mister!" but the other man had disappeared into the crowd.
Jacob reached out, picking the egg up. It was warm and smooth to touch, likely not the kind of thing you willing left lying around.
"Hey, fella?" He called again, but the other had gone.
"Mr Kowalski?" A woman's voice called out, "Mr Bingley will see you now."
A fresh jolt of fear spread through Jacob and he forced himself up; the door seemed far away and the temperature of the room rose as though they were sat about in the middle of summer rather than December. He pocketed the egg and began to move, his palms clammy around this handle of his case.
"Okay… Okay…" he whispered, clenching his fists to stop the trembling. He could do this. He was no Fakeloo artist, his stuff was the genuine article; good food worth investing in. He just needed to keep his cool and tell them that.
"Mr Kowalski." The man before him really shouldn't have seemed so intimidating but his posh suit and half-scowl made Jacob feel like a young boy in trouble with the schoolmaster for breaking a window again.
He dropped heavily into his seat, trying to force a pleasant expression onto his face. "Mr Bingley. Umm… Here." He quickly reached into his case and pulled out a file.
Mr Bingley raised his brow as Jacob spread them out on his desk.
"Okay, now… Umm, I was thinking a nice little shop, you know… cute front with Kowalski written on it, for the women who are doing the shopping. On the windows, I mean. Mildred suggested it." His eyes flicked up briefly to the unimpressed face before he ploughed on. "But, for colours, I was thinking sort of blues and greys and yellows. And I know I filled out your business proposal forms and the financial summary forms but I was… thinking…"
He trailed off as he caught Mr Bingley's eyes again, his confidence dying. The silence seemed to last a long time though and he felt more and more uncomfortable, his mind rushing to numerous worst-case scenarios. There was an odd noise… and he glanced down at the egg in his pocket; several small cracks were spreading out.
Jacob thought of the English guy who had dropped the egg. He hoped Mr Bingley didn't give him such a hard time for his bakery, he already seemed to have a nervous disposition.
"You're currently working… in a canning factory?" The simple question already sounded judgemental.
Stomach clenching, Jacob looked up, "That's the best I can do. I only got back in '24." Two years he'd had to show Mildred he could provide for their future family, and it felt like two years since he had last smiled.
"Got back?"
"From Europe, sir. Yeah, I was part of the Expeditionary Forces there…" He tried smiling as he mimed digging, hoping that Mr Bingley would lose his scowl. He didn't.
"I see." He replied, before looking seriously down at the papers on his desk again.
There was a heavy sigh and Mr Bingley shook his head. Concerned, Jacob jumped straight into the next stage of the interview that he had prepared: the food.
He lifted the case up and opened it for the man to see, "All right."
"Mr Kowalski."
Jacob hurried on, determined to say his piece, "You gotta try the paczki, okay? It's my grandmother's recipe, the orange zest… it's…"
"Mr Kowalski, what do you propose to offer the bank as collateral?" Mr Bingley ignored the pastry as he looked at Jacob.
"Collateral?"
"Collateral." The man remained unimpressed as Jacob looked hopefully at his case. "There are machines now that can produce hundreds of doughnuts an hour…"
To even compare those mass produced things to anything he baked with love and his grandmother's cookbook was an insult, but he could see his chance sliding further away and his future with Mildred with it, "I know, I know, but they're nothing like what I can do!"
"The bank must be protected, Mr Kowalski. Good day to you."
The bell rang out its knell and Jacob once more forced himself onto his feet. He wasn't trembling anymore but he had started to sweat, his breath coming in short gasps as he stepped out the door and the finality of exiting the office set in. What was he supposed to do now? How could he go tell Mildred that he had failed? There was a noise from his pocket and he slipped his hand inside without looking.
He had to go back to working in the factory. He felt as though all his dreams had been torn out. A miserable job and a miserable fiancée… that was his future.
A slight scratch jolted Jacob back to the present and he pulled the egg out from his pocket. The shards of silver shell were cracked and there was a soft noise coming from within. As he lifted his hand, he saw a familiar blue coat near the elevator and shouted, "Hey, Mr English guy? I think your egg is hatching!"
And not a moment later, his stomach was rolling and he had to lean back against the wall of the stairwell… Stairwell? But his attention was captured by the eccentric young man, a stick held in his mouth as he took the egg off Jacob; some strange kind of blue snake peaked though the shell and the joy in the other guy's face was undeniable. He didn't know much about English snakes, but this fella was clearly fond of them.
"Excuse me?" he tried as the man headed down the stairs, and Jacob ducked as he saw Mr Bingley appear. "I was… over there. I was… over there?"
He wasn't feeling great. Had he wandered over here without noticing? How had they gotten to the other side of the railings? He stared ahead blankly for a moment, watching the guy put the snake in his case.
"Hello?" he called, hoping to get his attention.
It didn't work, the English guy didn't look away from the inside of his case, "No, everyone settle down. Stay. Dougal, don't make me come in there!" The guy had to be crazy, but people did sometimes get strange about their pets… even if they had pet snakes, he supposed… which were kept in a case… when you visited the bank…
Maybe he was a troublemaker.
"Don't make me come down there." The man repeated as Jacob began to move closer.
Jacob rallied himself to speak again, uncertain whether or not he really wanted the man's attention, but uncomfortable with not speaking.
"Absolutely not." The man suddenly said, standing up. He pointed his stick at the vault. "Alohomora."
There was a click, and Jacob stared in horror. Never mind a troublemaker, he seemed to have come across a bank robber!
"Oh, so you're going to steal the money, huh?"
Jacob turned to see Mr Bingley hit a button on the wall, before stiffening and falling backwards and the English guy muttered something behind him. His jaw dropped.
"Mr Bingley!" A glance backwards told Jacob that the vault was open and this held his attention better than the bank man hissing out his name.
There was something inside the vault, a strange creature that resembled a mole sat in the mess and there was a question of, "Really?" before the English guy gabbed its hind legs and tipped it upside down with a firm "No."
He had to be in a dream… This couldn't be real… But, the voice of the Second Salemer woman drifted across his mind "Witches live among us!" and apparently they did… and he was here, with one…
Several armed guards entered the corridor and Jacob trembled with panic, "Oh no… no… Don't shoot. Don't shoot!"
But before he could say anything else they were outside. Fear overcame his need to vomit and Jacob pressed himself back against the wall with a yelp.
"For the last time, you pilfering pest: paws off what doesn't belong to you!" The guy stuffed the mole back into his case… alongside the snake… but something about his words settled Jacob's mind slightly. He may be some crazy, English witch… but at least he wasn't a bank robber as well.
"I'm awfully sorry about all that." The guy started.
But Jacob interrupted, "What the hell was that?"
"Nothing that need concern you." He replied as he stood up. "Now, unfortunately you have seen far too much, so if you wouldn't mind… if you just stand there, this will be over in a jiffy."
The young man started searching his coat for his stick- no, his wand, but Jacob refused to stand here was have magic used on him, no matter how polite the witch casting it was. Therefore, he grabbed his case and swung it at the young man, who dropped to the ground.
Jacob hesitated for a brief moment; he'd hit the guy's head… He didn't actually meant to hurt him, "Sorry." But he wasn't going to stick around, the guy was moving, so Jacob ran. In his haste, he didn't see an annoyed young woman grab the young man's arm with a firm tug.
Tina apparated them to an alleyway a fair distance from the bank before she rounded on the guy, "Who are you?"
"I'm sorry?" The man pressed himself against the wall and gave her a puzzled look.
She glared at him, "Who are you?" she repeated, putting as much authority into her voice as she could.
"Newt Scamander. And you are?"
Pissed off was the honest answer, but she avoided the question, "What's that thing in your case?"
"That's my niffler." There was a slight smile twitching at his lips as he answered, but he dropped his head for a moment at her scowl before pointing hesitantly at her face. "You've got something on your…"
She wasn't going to be distracted though. He had quite blatantly broken the law, "Why in the name of Deliverance Dane did you let that thing loose?"
"I didn't mean to." Which really wasn't an answer you wanted to give if you were trying to stay out of trouble. "He's incorrigible, you see, anything shiny; he's all over the place-"
"You didn't mean to?" she growled, she almost preferred intentional troublemakers; those who got in trouble with the law due to idiocy or ignorance seriously vexed her. Coming to a foreign country with no real understanding of the law, or no real effort to keep it implied a lack of respect.
"No." He glanced up at her through his hair before dropping his eyes back to his case.
She couldn't help herself, she let loose. Her frustration at something like this happening so near the Second Salemers bubbling over, "You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose!" she scalded, "We're in the middle of a situation here! I'm taking you in."
"You taking me where?"
She pulled out her ID and showed it to him. If people caught wind of the Salemers getting riled up then she was not taking the blame for it, not when it wasn't her fault. "Magical Congress of the United States of America."
Mr Scamander flinched as she spoke, huddling back against the wall again, "So, you work for MACUSA? What are you, some kind of investigator?"
"Uh-huh." She replied, though the question hurt. It had been a blow to be dropped into Wand Permits, especially as before that she thought she had been earning Mr Graves' respect. He'd even said 'Well Done' to her once. She put her card away as she listened to the bustle of the street. "Can you please tell me you took care of the No-Maj?"
"The what?"
"The No-Maj! No-magic! The non-wizard!" she half-yelled, her tense nerves once more threatening to overwhelm.
"Oh sorry, we call them Muggles." Scamander replied, failing to answer her question.
The evasion was decidedly concerning and the man was definitely starting to get on her back up, "You wiped his memory, right? The No-Maj with the case?"
"Umm…"
She could have cried with the stress, this was supposed to be her lunch break where she was not supposed to be anywhere near Mary Lou Barebone. Hopefully they'd be distracted with the niffler… "That's a Section 3A, Mr Scamander. I'm taking you in."
She grabbed his arm and they disapparated to near the front of the Woolworth Building. She dragged him over as he objected, claiming he had a birthday present to buy; however she wasn't interested, especially not when she realised he was one of the people keeping the breeders of illegal creatures in business.
"Hey Goldstein."
Red looked up at her as she dragged Scamander into the elevator, even as he gaped around the main lobby. "Hey Red. Major Investigation Department."
Red frowned slightly, "I thought you was-"
"Major Investigation Department!" She hissed at him, not wanting Scamander to realise that she had very little authority anymore. "I got a Section 3A!"
Red gave her a curious glance, then sent one up to Scamander but he didn't say anything else and used his stick to hit the button above his head.
The ride down and their subsequent walk through to the main floor in this Department was done in silence, Scamander barely managing to raise his head and Tina faking confidence as she tried to think of something to say to Mr Graves.
The voices filtered down the corridor as Tina led Scamander along; they were discussing the disturbances and the dark cloud that had been sighted as it tore through the No-Maj neighbourhoods. She forced herself to keep a steady pace though, needing to look confident and professional as she tried to explain that a No-Maj had gotten away.
There was a moment of silence before, "I made your position here quite clear, Miss Goldstein." Madam Picquery didn't even let her get a word out before glaring.
Tina glanced at the man beside her before looking back at the woman. This was important and she had to try, "Yes, Madam President, but I-"
"You are no longer an auror."
The words still hurt, even though it had been weeks since her demotion, "No, Madam President, but-"
"Goldstein." Picquery's firm voice cut through Tina's nervous attempts.
"There's been a minor incident-" she said in a rush, but Picquery's expression did not change.
"Well, this office is currently concerned with very major incidents. Get out."
"Yes, ma'am."
She turned and led Scamander away, feeling utterly humiliated. To be refused so completely when she had with her someone who had broken the law… Thankfully Scamander wasn't commenting on her blatant lack of authority here. He simply followed along behind her, though judging from his expression he was at least a little perplexed as to the situation.
She couldn't blame him, she mused as she stepped into the elevator and they went down again; the situation here had become very confusing of late. It seemed Graves was doing a real good clean-up of the auror department and was getting rid of anyone who didn't meet his expectations… excluding Hollands and Livingstone, who had somehow kept their jobs despite being two of the most unobservant aurors Tina had ever come across. Maybe Graves thought that their heads were empty enough to retrain them without any great difficulty.
She knew it was bitter of her, but Tina didn't much care. She had to fill out forms and endless paperwork while Hollands, who lived in his head so much that he was accident prone, got to go out into the city and do something.
"So, have you got your wand permit?" She asked Scamander, holding her head high and trying to look more important than she felt. "All foreigners have to have them in New York."
"I made a postal application weeks ago." He replied, eyes flicking up to hers briefly and she resisted the urge to grimace. With all the upheaval in MACUSA, which originated with the changes by Graves, they only seemed to have about half the mail that they were supposed to have received.
She grabbed a clipboard and began to make notes on the strange man before her. "Scamander… and you were just in Equatorial Guinea?"
"I've just completed a year in the field." He replied softly, still barely managing to meet her eyes. "I'm writing a book about magical creatures."
It sounded dull, but her own interest lay in people. She decided to keep him talking though, to see if he really was a trouble maker or not; there was something about him that made her suspicious, "Like an extermination guide?"
He looked affronted at her question and scowled at her, "No! A guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them."
Something in her chest eased at these words and his genuine irritation; maybe this guy really was just an awkward rag-a-muffin with no real idea how to talk to people, wizard or No-Maj alike.
"Goldstein? Where is she? Where is she? Goldstein?" Tina ducked behind her desk with the speed that may have indicated an approaching hex; Abernathy was a self-important mug who honestly seemed to do more posturing than actual work. She could deal with him personally (and hiding behind her desk today was absolutely a one off), but he was smitten with Queenie and no matter how polite he was to her in person, she didn't like his attitude towards her sister and she couldn't see him in a positive light because of it.
"Goldstein!"
She could see his polished shoes on the other side of her desk, tapping the ground as he waited. They look out of place in the dusty surroundings, especially next to Scamander's well-worn boots.
"Did you just butt in on the Investigative Team again?" He asked shortly as she pulled herself up. "Where've you been?"
"What?" She looked awkwardly down, not knowing what to say. She had gone out for her lunch… but she was supposed to avoid the New Salem Philanthropic Society entirely.
"Where'd she pick you up?" Abernathy clearly didn't want to wait and he rounded on Scamander.
Scamander jumped slightly and gave him a started look, "Me?" then his eyes flitted over to Tina as she desperately tried to ask him to keep quiet with just a look. He hesitated then dropped his eyes and hunched his shoulders as he held his tongue.
With another scowl, Abernathy turned back to Tina, "Have you been tracking them Second Salemers again?"
"Of course not, sir." Tina responded in as honest a voice as she could manage, feeling glad that Abernathy never could tell when people were lying to him.
Abernathy's scowl deepened but before he could continue the conversation his expression changed to a far more pleasant arrangement as Director Graves entered the office. Relief flooded through her as she supposed he was coming to hear what she had to say; the President may not care but Graves must have been curious about the minor incident that had led her to that office. He was looking Scamander up and down with an odd look on his face, with only a hint of the curiosity that she had expected visible.
"Afternoon, ah… Abernathy." Graves' attention went back to Scamander for a moment as Tina screwed up her courage.
If she could just explain that Scamander, while not intentionally, had briefly lost control of an animal which had resulted in a slight breach of the Statute of Secrecy, then perhaps they would overlook the fact that she had been watching the Barebone family again.
"Mr Graves, sir. This is Mr Scamander." Her words tumbled out as she stepped forward, "He has a crazy creature in that case and it got out and caused mayhem in a bank, sir."
"Let's see the little guy."
Graves' acceptance was an utter relief, no questions about why she had been in a bank, but an interest in what actually mattered… not that Scamander seemed to agree, his eyes wide with panic as Tina picked up his case and placed it on the desk.
Dismay shot through her as she stared down at the pastries… there was only one reason Scamander would have a case full of pastries, and that would be because that muggle had a case with a troublesome creature in it.
"Tina…" Graves walked off, smirking but Tina's eyes lifted to meet Scamander's; they had to find that No-Maj.
"Wasted enough time now? Are you going to get on with work?" Abernathy couldn't tell her off when Graves made the decision not to, but he wasn't going to let her slack off.
Tina sighed and picked up the clipboard again.
"An Appaloosa Puffskein, you said?"
Gellert would have very much liked a chance to speak to Mr Scamander himself, he noted as he headed back to his office with deliberate pace; the name rang a bell in the back of his mind and he wanted to know why. Unfortunately, his hour was nearly up and there was a flask upstairs that he needed to drink from.
Scamander…
There was a hippogriff breeder in England by the name of Scamander, but that connection didn't slot comfortably into place, even if the young man was grubby enough to work in a stable.
That face… He was sure he had seen it before… He stalked over to his office and sent an internal request off for information on the Scamander family. Impersonating the Head of Magical Security certainly had its perks, even if it did mean he had to smile at every inferior being that crossed his path and keep them blissfully ignorant.
Rather than sitting and waiting, Gellert picked up the report from the previous night. There was nothing new on it, but he couldn't suppress the anticipation that bubbled up within him as he looked at it; the evidence that there was an obscurus in New York City, and a powerful one at that.
He had considered taking the obscurus to Europe and releasing it there; he had originally suggested defying the Statute of Secrecy many years ago over there, but had been rejected. The thought of forcing the exposure to muggles was tempting… and yet something had made him shy away from that plan.
Sometimes, he tried to convince himself that it was simply easier to start the war here, where the Obscurial resided; however there were times that a voice deep inside could be heard. It shouted one name at him, the reason he wanted a war on this side of the ocean:
Albus Dumbledore.
Albus… It had been many years since he had seen the man. The wizard ran a hand over his head as his thoughts drifted to a handsome face and the haunting blue eyes that sparkled out of it; the first thing about him that Gellert had ever noticed all those years ago.
Albus' mind was a thing of wonder and Gellert had gotten to know it before they had even met; when he'd been a young man himself, his great-aunt Bathilda had told him to write to a local boy who had still attended Hogwarts at the time. Gellert, who had been angry with his expulsion from Durmstrang and the abandonment of those who had called him friend while there, had taken out his frustrations to this unseen person, pouring his honest, sixteen year old feelings onto the paper to Hogwarts' Head Boy.
He hadn't expected a reply. He'd skulked around Godric's Hollow, anger still frothing within him when an owl had landed on Ignotus Peverell's tombstone and held out its leg; the response had changed his life. Not in any immediate way, but Albus had asked what it was about life and death that had fascinated him enough to get expelled; it had been a chance to open up, to dump his interest in the Deathly Hallows onto someone else.
He'd explained that while he hadn't killed any person, he had been trying to look into the tale of the three brothers and making an effort to understand death. He'd noted that he had done experiments, but these had been on animals, not people; he wanted to be the master of Death, but he believed that obtaining the Hallows would allow him to live until he was prepared for death.
Albus had agreed. He had noted that while in the stories the Cloak of Invisibility had allowed the youngest brother to hide from Death, choosing to hide for the rest of your life would be selfish and wasteful. If you had never-ending life, surely it is your responsibility to bring about change, from start to finish, that would ensure the betterment of life for all?
Gellert had found the idea fascinating; he'd never thought so far ahead to wonder what he would do with life if he wouldn't die. He'd always gotten stuck on obtaining eternal life, but Albus had had further reaching vision, and their discussions had blossomed; Gellert had been half-way in love with Albus before he had even met the other boy and when they did eventually meet in the aftermath of his mother's death, Gellert had fallen entirely.
He had known from the moment that he had looked into those blue eyes that he had wanted the other by his side for the rest of his life, and that that must surely be the purpose of the other Hallows to ensure one mastered Death. The Elder Wand to fight off any rivals or foes, the stone with the power to recall the dead that would allow the master to keep another at his side, and the Cloak of Invisibility to remain hidden from Death's view; while alone the brothers had been defeated, it had been together that they had bested Death in the first place, and the power needed to be kept together to be truly effective.
Albus had come up with one idea after another, stunning Gellert with his thoughts and he had never scorned Gellert for his attempts to understand Death in a more real sense of the word. It had been Albus who had noted that certain actions needed to be taken for the Greater Good, and so years later, Gellert hadn't hesitated to experiment again, moving onto human subjects. He was not arrogant enough to assume that he could master Death and not understand every part of it, and he knew that life was intricately entwined in death. Surely two ideas were opposite sides of the same coin; to create life, and stop Death.
But their friendship, their slow courtship had been halted by Aberforth Dumbledore. That had been hard enough, but what that idiotic child had done had been far worse. Albus' brilliance could have been a metaphor for an obscurus, trapped inside and battered down by his burden of a family. The boy was forever owling Albus to come and sit by his sister, telling him to take responsibility. What Aberforth hadn't understood was that he had been stifling a spark that could have truly advanced wizard kind; their hiding could have been over decades ago. Albus' attention had turned from mastering Death and working out how to run an all-inclusive society, muggles and wizards in the same world.
Initially, Albus' sister hadn't made too much of an impact on him. She had been an annoyance, a reason for Albus to leave on an evening before Gellert had been prepared to say Goodnight. He hadn't wanted to share his friend, had wanted to keep Albus to himself and now Gellert could admit that this was still true. However, he'd had nothing against the girl, had even seen her as part of the reason that Albus objected to the Statute of Secrecy – the catalyst for Albus understanding how this decree was hazardous.
But the stupid boy had ruined what they'd had; always there, complaining about his brother's distraction and whinging when he didn't get his own way… The selfish little twit, too childish to understand the desire for romance, the pull that the two had felt. Gellert had been unable to control himself, lashing out and cursing the fool as he had nagged his brother… He could still feeling the flutter of the older boy's breath across his lips as they had prepared to take another step, less that a moment away when a grating voice had permeated the air around them…
And the girl had died. He didn't know whose curse had hit her, his own or one of the Dumbledore brothers', but he had fled. The authorities still hadn't entirely decided what to do with him when they had sent him to his aunt, he wasn't even supposed to have had a wand, and then Ariana had died. He would be branded either evil or unstable, and would be locked up.
The knowledge that Albus would never look on him with such longing in those beautiful blue eyes again…
Gellert shut his eyes and scrambled quickly for his polyjuice potion, needing the vile flavour to distract himself from the pang in his chest; Albus was the only thing that affected him so and Gellert was determined to continue on with their plans to reveal the wizarding world to muggles, even though the older man had changed his mind in the grief and guilt from his sister's death.
There was a faint pop, and a flurry of paper mice scuttled across his desk.
Scamander… Time to discover who he was.