Hello everyone! Here is chapter two. I've been a little hesitant to write for the Harry Potter world, because I feel as if I can never get an Englishness into my voice as a writer, but then I realized that (hopefully) what makes a good story is the story. So I just decided to go for it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, as always feel free to leave constructive criticism.

Second Year – Part One

August

Newt had not heard from Leta once during the summer. He tried not to dwell on it, yet found himself staying up long hours into the night fighting to get to sleep. He had written her many times during the break, and when he heard nothing back, he went to his mum.

"She might be busy on a trip with her family," she said, her brow pulled together as she bent over herself to pull a thorn out of a hippogriff's hoof. "I'm sure she will write you back when she has time."

Still, Newt felt odd the rest of the summer. At random moments, he would turn away from what he was doing as if to write something down he wanted to tell Leta, and stop himself. He found himself doing this when Beaks, the youngest hippogriff in his mother's flock, went through his second molt and started to become one of the smoothest flyers Newt had ever seen. He almost did it when he thought he saw a brownie disappear around a corner in his house with the broken clock one early morning when he went downstairs for a glass of water. Or when he finished all his summer homework and wanted to know what Leta's thoughts were on the reading Professor Binns had given them about the history of giants in wars.

"Just distract yourself and you'll feel better," Theseus said. "It will be September before you know it."

Newt spent the rest of his summer helping his mother with the hippogriffs, playing one-on-one Quidditch with Theseus, trying to find where the brownie who had fixed the clock lived inside his house, and pretending not to dread about going back to Hogwarts to find that he once again had no one.

Theseus's friends often sent him letters or came over for a day to fly around on brooms. There was a new girl, a sweet but sarcastic Gryffindor named Sy'Nia West, who Theseus fancied, and she came over about once a week to practice her Keeper skills. Sy'Nia's parents were both muggles, and she admitted to Newt once that she was afraid she would get kicked off the Quidditch Team because she couldn't practice over breaks. Kwame Karey had graduated from Hogwarts last year, and Theseus was taking his place as the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain, so Newt doubted Sy'Nia really had anything to worry about.

On the last week of summer break, Newt fought where the brownie lived, although he never actually saw the brownie itself. There was a small mouse hole that went under the stairs, and when Newt laid down on the floor to peer inside, he found all the broken items that belonged to the house half fixed. Despite his curiosity, Newt let the brownie go to and from his mouse hole in peace. Every once in a while, one of the broken items would return to the house, fixed and looking better than ever.

September

Leta was not on the Hogwarts Express.

Newt had boarded the train and pushed his way to their usual compartment, but she wasn't there. He greeted Darren, a fellow Second Year Hufflepuff, and asked if he had seen Leta, but Darren shook his head. Newt waited in an empty compartment for a while, Mittens roaming around the empty seats, hoping that Leta would find him. She didn't. At last, Newt got up and headed through the crowded train until he saw Sy'Nia. Mittens trailed behind him, pressing herself on Newt's legs whenever she could.

"Hello, Newt," she said. "Looking for Theseus?"

She pointed to a nearby compartment.

"What's wrong?" Theseus asked, the moment he saw Newt standing in the doorway. Newt shook his head, and Theseus scooted over to make room for Newt in the packed compartment.

Leta was also absent at the feast ,and on the first day of classes. She appeared, as if from thin air, on the second day of the semester, plopping into the empty seat beside Newt in Potions, as if he had been expecting to see her.

"What page are we supposed to be on?"

Newt blinked. For a moment, the world seemed to get smaller, to focus in on Leta.

"Leta, you're here," Newt said.

"Where else would I be?"

"You weren't on the train."

Leta, suddenly over Newt's questioning, peered over his shoulder to get the page number of his potions book and flipped her own book open.

"Of course I was," she said. "I was sick though, so I spent the whole trip in the lavatory."

"You weren't at the feast, or in classes yesterday."

"Still sick," Leta shrugged, as she began to put ingredients into her cauldron. "I've been in the Hospital Wing."

She didn't look as if she had been sick.

"You could have told me," said Newt, he had the urge not to look at her anymore. "That's what friends do."

Leta let out an annoyed huff. "Alright, I'm sorry."

Newt completely forgotten about the potions assignment. Instead, he sat in his stool, wanting to look at Leta, and not wanting to look at her. She buzzed around their table, making the potion – Newt couldn't even remember what it was supposed to be now – with ease. She had always been book at Potions. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her send him a funny look, and then she started to make his potion for him while hers brewed.

"You could have written me back." Newt got himself to mutter. "You ignored me all summer."

"My parents, they don't like you."

Newt thought he had been done caring who did or did not like him, according to the knot now forming in his stomach, he had apparently been wrong.

"I haven't met your parents."

Leta ignored his deflated tone. "Doesn't matter," she said. "You might be a Full-Blood, but your father was muggle born."

Newt's father was like Theseus. Loud, kind, brave, and well liked. Newt had never heard someone say something bad about him before, and wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he said, "Does that matter to you?"

"We're friends, aren't we?"

It was then that Leta pulled up the sleeves of her robes so that she could better stir her cauldron. Both arms were covered in bruises. Even on her dark skin they were clearly yellow and black. Newt reached out without thinking, as if to touch them softly in hopes that they would go away. Leta flinched back, and pulled her sleeves down over her arms.

"Your parents don't like you being friends with me that much?" Newt's voice was soft.

"Please," said Leta. "These have nothing to do with you."

Newt sat in silence for the rest of the class, as Leta finished first her own, and then his potion. He kept glancing at her covered arms, as if he could see the yellow and black markings through her robes.

"Newt." Leta's voice quivered, slightly. "Don't tell anyone, okay. As my friend, my best friend, don't tell anyone. Promise me, okay?"

Leta had asked him not to tell anyone, and Newt was young, so he didn't. He promised her.

October

Transfigurations was one of Newt's favorite subjects. He enjoyed the half oval room, the idea of one day working with animals in class, and he enjoyed Professor Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore always had a slight twinkle in his eye, as if he approved of a little mischief but wasn't allowed to admit it. Newt also enjoyed competing with Gwen Edwards, a Second Year Ravenclaw, over points in class. Gwen obviously enjoyed Transfigurations as well, and if Newt ever answered a question, Gwen would build onto his answer so well that she would earn points for her house. When Gwen performed a new spell, Newt performed it better and on an earlier try, earning Hufflepuff house points.

Last year, Gwen had taken the competition a little personally. She had sat on the opposite side of the stone classroom as him, and had always left the lesson either a little pink in the face from victory or red in the face from defeat.

This year however, she had surprised Newt by making a habit of sitting next to him in class and whispering "give me your best, Scamander" before the start of the period. Had Gwen ever spoke to him outside Transfigurations, he would almost have considered them friends.

"Nice try today, Scamander," Gwen said, pink from victory after Professor Dumbledore had ended the lesson. "But I-"

"Mr. Scamander, would you mind speaking with me, just for a moment."

Professor Dumbledore had never asked Newt to stay after class before. Gwen's pink cheeks turned red, and she left the classroom. Newt wondered if she would bother sitting by him next time they had Transfigurations.

Newt gathered his things and walked up to the front of the classroom. He suddenly felt as if he didn't know where to put his hands, or how to hold his arms.

"Very fine work today, very fine," Professor Dumbledore said. He had an air of calmness about him that didn't hold his usual hint of amusement. "It isn't your classwork, however, that I wish to speak to you about."

Newt found himself studying the floor. "What can I help you with, Professor?"

"You are aware, I am sure, that students do not start their Care of Magical Creatures studies until their third year."

"Yes, sir."

"However, Professor Kettleburn, is expecting to receive a baby hippogriff in January, and he asked me if I knew any student who might wish to give him an extra hand on Thursday nights with the creature. He has meetings in Hogsmeade on those evenings." Dumbledore's air of mischief was returning. "I was wondering if you would be interested."

Newt smiled, nodding eagerly. "My mother breeds hippogriffs."

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I am aware. Should I inform Professor Kettleburn I have found someone?"

"Yes! Yes, that would be lovely."

November

It was always easier to find Sy'Nia then it was to find his brother at the Gryffindor table. With her dark skin and her long mass of black hair pulled back in a million little braids, she was easier to notice than Theseus, and even though Theseus still hadn't gathered enough nerve to ask her out, Sy'Nia always seemed to know where Newt's brother was.

Before Newt even had to say a word, Sy'Nia pointed towards another part of the table and said, "Over there," in a cheerful voice.

"I can't believe I'm about to ask a Gryffindor for help," whispered Leta, as she trailed behind Newt.

"It's just Theseus," said Newt.

"Still."

They found Theseus around a study group that was debating whether Professor Binns would give them an extra time to finish an essay if they all promised to turn it into his office before Monday.

"It isn't as if he sleeps," said a boy. "He'll have time Sunday night to grade the essays then."

Theseus shot Newt a cheeky grin. "Don't listen to our study habits little brother, I don't want you getting any ideas."

"Wasn't planning on it," said Newt, returning Theseus's silly smile. "Leta and I were wondering if you wouldn't mind helping us get back into flying shape. We want to try out next year for our house Quidditch teams."

"Sure," Theseus said, "Let's start tomorrow. I have nothing better to do than teach members from other houses how to be good competition for my team."

"It sounds as if you need to finish an important essay," said Newt.

Theseus waved an airy hand. "Naw I don't. Just leave it to me, my friends, I'll get Professor Binns to give us two more weeks, or, if he is in a good mood, to forget the essay completely."

There was a chorus from the table.

"Here, here!"

"Our hero."

Satisfied, Leta led Newt towards an empty spot on the Slytherin table.

"Your brother seems quite full of himself," said Leta, but then seemed to catch herself. "It is very nice of him the offer to help us. He plays as a Beater, right?"

Newt nodded.

"I want to be a Beater, too," Leta continued. "Are you still thinking about being a Chaser?"

He nodded again.

"You'd make a good Chaser. You have fast reflexes in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Leta reached down and seemed to pull Mittens out of thin air. The cat purred and rubbed her face on Leta's cheek before jumping over the table to climb into Newt's lap. He scratched Mittens behind the ear.

"You could try out of Seeker, too," Leta continued. "You have the right build for it, and it would double your chances of making the team."

December

"Are you excited to help Professor Kettleburn after the break?" Leta asked him.

They were studying in the library, trying to put the finishing details into their moon charts for Astronomy. Mittens was currently rolling on top of Newt's open copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk.

"I'm going to ask my mum for extra advice over the break." Newt's lips turned slightly up just at the thought of it.

Professor Dumbledore had thought to ask him, not Theseus, to help Professor Kettleburn. A fact that made Newt's chest feel warm every time he thought about it.

"You're going home for Christmas, then?"

The warm feeling fell away, replaced by the memory of Leta's bruised and battered arms back in September.

"Yes," Newt said. "Are you?"

"Yes," said Leta, and for the first time Newt could remember, it was her turn to have a hard time meeting his gaze. "I asked them if it would be easier for me to just stay at Hogwarts, but they insisted my staying at school would reflect badly on the family."

"You could always come to my house."

"No, no I couldn't."

"You could tell a teacher."

"I said no!"

The quietness of the library filled the space between them.

Leta suddenly perked up, a forced cheerfulness in her spin as she reached down and pulled something out of her bag.

"I got you something," she said, pushing a brown paper box towards Newt. "Happy Christmas."

Surprised by the gesture, Newt opened the box with slow but steady fingers to reveal a small collection of thick scrolls, and a rather sleek and handsome quill.

"I know how you get with your notes," Leta said. "And I thought you might like to keep a record of your time helping Professor Kettleburn with the baby hippogriff."

Newt wasn't sure what to say. No one outside his family had ever given him something before.

He settled for, "Thank you, Leta."

Which seemed to be the only response she wanted.