The remainder of the crossing was tense. Newt spent most of his time in his case, caring for his animals and pondering why Ethel the erumpent was so hostile toward Tina. He'd wondered if she had merely been having an off day, but upon further research he found that Tina was definitely the trigger. Queenie had joined him by the enclosure, and nothing about her had bothered Ethel. Jacob was also in the clear. Rather than risking Tina visiting, Newt had asked her for her scarf, and as soon as he'd brought it near to Ethel, she had once again become agitated, as close to raging as Newt had ever seen her.
So Tina had been consigned to the cabin, only leaving when Queenie took her to get some air on deck. Newt arranged for them to take meals in the cabin, telling the steward that his wife was ill. He had needed to reinforce that a little with a quick charm to prevent curiosity, but it had kept them both isolated from their fellow passengers.
Truth be told, Newt had been avoiding Tina. He spent long hours letting Queenie and Jacob sit in the large cabin with Tina while he went over his notes on the plant he'd found. The locals called it mbwo, a word for witchcraft, something that they understood as evil. This had troubled him. Witches and wizards were of course used to the way that muggles treated them and the possibility of magic, but it was especially unpleasant to be synonymous with evil.
Newt pored over everything he had that might give him insight into the plant and how to best approach its use. His old herbology textbooks were of little help, but in one of his field journals he had sketched the plant whilst waiting to sight swooping evil itself. That original drawing was what had sent him to Equatorial Guinea after Tina's attack. The five-spiked leaved were jagged like most others of its family, but it had a dark hue, almost black at the edges while the green of the chlorophyll was evident along the veins. The plant was small, but its strong, almost smoky scent set it apart from the exotic but still non-magical plants that surrounded it.
He had wondered then, a year before he'd even met Tina, if this were a magical species as yet unclassified. Upon his return he'd learned that only the local tribes used it. Because magical and nonmagical people were not always separated in Africa as in some other places, it was especially difficult to know its uses. No one Newt had met near swooping evil's nesting grounds was a wizard, but the feats that they attributed to their late shamanic healer sounded suspiciously typical of magical healers who went amongst Muggles to do good works. It was only relatively recently in history that those with magical talents were shunned by the populace to the extent that they were unwilling to take advantage of the talents and especially healing powers of witches and wizards among them.
Antiquity was full of tales of oracles, priests, and even "gods" who were most likely talented witches and wizards living their lives entwined with Muggle politics. Most of the wizarding world today liked to believe they were now completely set apart, but there were still places where the line was, if not blurred, at least perforated.
During the remaining four days of the crossing, Tina had become more withdrawn. Her suspicions and curiosity had faded, and Newt could tell that Queenie was both disappointed and concerned at the change. Newt worried that the erumpent incident and the appearance of peril had retriggered some facet of the memory spell. She no longer seemed afraid of him when he appeared in her cabin, but Newt wasn't certain that she even remembered his name.
It was with great relief that Newt herded a slightly vacant Tina off the ship and through customs. The docks were crowded and dirty, with odd sounds and smells that still failed to rouse Tina from her daze. Newt wanted to get her to the hospital as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he still had to pass through the Ministry's own check point.
Lightly supporting Tina under her left arm, he stepped off to the side of the bustling terminal. A tap of the wand against a section of wall behind a permanent shelter of crates revealed the Port of London Customs Office for Magical Affairs. The office was an extremely cramped single room, lined with shelves housing spinning devices enchanted to sound an alarm if certain enchantments or charms were detected. Newt cast a slightly worried glance down at the case in his hand. The enchantments were supposed to be undetectable and had served him well during his last visit to this office, but who knew when the Ministry would finally get around to an upgrade.
Tillie Armentrout was behind the desk reading a paperback detective novel with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, making her already rather pointy face look quite pinched indeed. The mustachioed detective on the cover of the book peered up at him with a magnifying glass pressed to one eye. Though Tillie was a few years older than Newt, they'd been at school together and even then she'd had a reputation as an incurable gossip. Newt groaned internally at his bad luck and readjusted his grip on Tina's arm to keep her close to him and away from the detection equipment, but she pulled free with a glare, and crouched to look at one particularly shiny spinner by the door.
"Hullo, Tillie," Newt said. He hoped to get in and out immediately, and would have skipped the whole thing except that President Picquery had made him promise to do it all by the book. As uncomfortable as it was parading his personal problems before Tillie, it would not do to risk an international incident, especially if it would jeopardize the prospect of Tina getting treatment at St. Mungo's.
Tillie looked up at him, a smile stretching her narrow mouth to uncomfortable widths. "Why if it isn't Newt Scamander, back again."
She whipped her reading glasses off her nose hastily and pulled a bespelled quill from her drawer. It set to drawing up a customs declaration form. Her eye first came to rest on his case.
"Have you got something to declare today? I've heard there's far more in there than your field notes, you know," Tillie said.
"Not today, Tillie, no."
"Merlin, but they let you get away with a lot. I suppose it helps to have family in such high places," she sniffed. Newt hunched uncomfortably and took the packet of papers from inside his coat. He extracted his passport, Tina's passport, as well as her travel visa, signed and stamped by the appropriate officers of the Crown.
Tillie took them just as Tina straightened up from where she'd been inspecting the glinting silver enchantment detectors.
"And who is this?"
Before Newt could answer, Tillie had flipped Tina's passport open and was reading it as voraciously as if it were the gossip column of the Daily Prophet.
"Porpentina…Scamander? Oh ho ho, you have been busy over in the States, haven't you? Mabel from the Intercontinental Relations department was trying to tell me all your travel was about Grindelwald, but if so, why would they be sending you? No, this makes far more sense."
She peered at Tina eagerly.
"So, taking the little Missus home to meet Mummy and Daddy then?"
Newt frowned. This was getting out of control. He looked nervously at Tina who had her arms crossed over her chest. He hoped Tillie wouldn't succeed in upseting Tina.
"If you'd please turn your attention to the travel visa, you'll see that Mrs. Scamander is an injured auror seeking medical attention at St. Mungo's. I have papers signed by President Picquery of MACUSA to that effect if you need to see them?"
"What's the matter with her?" Tillie asked, her eyes raking Tina for any sign of illness. Tina frowned, her eyes regaining some of their usual clarity.
"That's none of your business, lady," she snapped.
Tillie looked offended, but Newt just shrugged half-apologetically. Mercifully, the quill had finished its work, and their copy floated through the air. Newt snatched it and took back their other documentation while Tillie was staring.
Newt turned and led Tina back outside, but not before Tillie audibly muttered, "Oh to be a fly on the wall of your mother's drawing room!"
They were here to seek medical attention, period. There was no need to get ahead of themselves. Newt shuddered, but when Tina, still affronted, barked, "What?" he could only smile, pleased that she was more present than he'd seen her that day in his case. He took her hand, apparating them to a nearby rooftop to let Queenie and Jacob out of the case.
-o-o-o-
"Are you sure this is the place?" Jacob stared doubtfully at the mannequins in the window of the neglected department store. They were dressed in the fashions of twenty years prior, trailing skirts on the ladies and a frock coat on the man.
"Lotsa magical buildings have to look unpleasant to no-majs," Queenie answered. "Keeps them from getting too curious."
Jacob nodded doubtfully.
Newt was preoccupied getting Tina up to the fourth floor in time for their ten o'clock appointment. After letting Jacob and Queenie out of the case there had been just enough time to stop off for a quick breakfast of bread and tea at a shop just across from St. Mungo's though now they were cutting it close for time. As they'd eaten, Tina's curiosity about her new surroundings had faded, and she had become unresponsive to questions. Newt tried to keep an even keel, but inside he was alternating waves of hope and despair. The prospect of a definite pronouncement one way or another would change so much…but whether it was for the better or the worse was out of their hands.
Inside his pockets were the samples of the mbwo plant that he'd brought back from Guinea. In his eagerness he'd dried copious amounts, made an alcohol tincture and even vaporized some into a spray with spring water and witch hazel, though he knew the potions master would want to oversee any preparations himself. Newt had decided not to mention the living specimen that he had placed inside the enclosure for Swooping Evil in his case. The spread of unknown magical plants was strictly forbidden, and if Tillie from customs had had any inkling of just what he was carrying she could have had him arrested on the spot.
Still, Newt had wanted to cover all of his bases. Perhaps the potions master would be someone that he could trust with that information, in which case they could work together to develop a formula to help Tina.
"Newt Scamander and friends here to escort Porpentina Scamander to her ten o'clock appointment," he said politely. The glass of the display window vanished, and the dummy in the frock coat gestured for them to enter.
They stepped up and into the building, Jacob gaping at the seamless transition from shop window to hospital admitting lounge. The room was large and only moderately busy. The nurses at the reception desk looked very smart in their white caps, while here and there a healer consulted with a patient or family member as they sat in the royal blue leather chairs that filled the center of the room in neat lines. Newt settled Tina with Queenie and Jacob in a vacant row of chairs and fumbled in his coat for the letter that he'd had with Tina's appointment information.
"Excuse me," he began.
The receptionist looked up at him, sizing him up professionally. "Nothing wrong with you then," she said firmly. "Where's the patient?"
"It—it's my wife you see," said Newt, suddenly unsure of himself. Should he even be there, pretending to speak for Tina? But if he didn't, Queenie would have to, and he was the one who'd arranged the appointment, so it was his duty to see it through, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. He produced the letter with the appointment time and held it out to the receptionist.
"An appointment with Professor Slughorn, is it?" Her expression had turned slightly sour. "But he doesn't work here any longer, now does he? So how can you have an appointment here with a former employee?"
Newt was taken aback. He glanced nervously at the ornate clock on the wall which read five minutes until ten.
"But he clearly says right here that I was to bring my wife to St. Mungo's for a ten o'clock appointment for a consultation. Tina—she can't be transported to Hogwart's. It—it's spell damage."
"Spell damage?" The receptionist raised an eyebrow and looked past Newt to where Tina was staring past the magazines that her sister was trying to interest her in. "And you want the Hogwart's potions master? You ought to have made an appointment with the healers on the fourth floor. They'll need to do an assessment."
"No—don't you see, we already went through all this in New York. After the attack, she was seen by the best healers MACUSA could come up with. This is our last hope."
Newt desperately looked over his shoulder at the clock. It showed two minutes past ten.
"What's all this about, Ivy?" asked a portly wizard in healer's robes who had materialized behind the desk.
"Ah, Terrence, you'll be able to tell the young man. He says his wife has a ten o'clock for spell damage with Horace Slughorn of all people!"
The man's friendly expression turned serious.
"Then what is he waiting around down here for? Spell Damage is fourth floor, and Horace should be getting out of his meeting with the Director presently. Honestly Ivy, I would have thought you'd have had a better idea of the daily schedule. We're lucky that this case brought Horace down from Hogwarts or we might have had to wait months for him to train the new apothecary." He turned away from the affronted receptionist who was patting her cap and huffing.
"I'll take you up myself," said the healer, turning briskly on his heel. "Come along."
Newt gestured rapidly and Queenie shot up out of her chair, dragging Tina and Jacob along with her. They ascended the wide white stair in a quiet line, the healer having given up at making small talk upon seeing Tina's vacant expression. The walk up to the fourth floor had left Jacob and even Queenie a little winded, but Tina and Newt and the healer trudged on in silence. They came to a long hall filled with unmarked doors. One on the left hand side was open, and they were led inside.
"You can wait for Professor Slughorn here," said the healer. He had been looking at Tina curiously, but he shrugged and went out.
The room was for medical examinations and as such was far too small to comfortably fit four adults. Newt settled Tina on the table, which covered itself in the requisite fresh cotton sheet as she approached.
"There, nice and easy," Queenie soothed, taking off Tina's black cloche hat for her and smoothing back her wavy hair that had been pinned at the nape of her neck. When Tina was not lucid enough to do such things for herself, it had fallen to her sister to provide personal care. This pained Newt, since he knew it was difficult for Queenie, but he was also relieved not to have to do it himself if it might be against Tina's wishes.
Queenie hovered beside the bed, gesturing for Newt and Jacob to take the seats. Newt took the chair because it was closest to the table where Tina was perched, staring glassily around the room. This left Jacob to perch on the stool which was most likely meant for the healer.
"You sure we should all be in here?" Jacob asked, uneasily. "I don't wanna intrude or nothing…"
"This is a consult, and since Tina is not competent to make decisions for her care, I am legally responsible for doing so," Newt said. "But Queenie should also have a full say in what she thinks we should do. If any examination is required I'd imagine the healers will let us know."
"Whatdya mean I'm 'not competent'?"
Newt had been staring at the clock on the wall, rapidly advancing on 10:20, and so was quite startled to hear this abrasive question.
"Tina!" Queenie looked at her sister, whose disgruntled but aware gaze was trained on Newt. "Teen are you remembering something? Do you know where we are?"
Tina looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"I'd guess we're at the doctor's, right? There's plenty of white, I'm on a table, and that guy's on a doctor's stool. He doesn't look much like a doctor though." She nodded toward Jacob.
"But do you remember why we're here now, Teenie?" Queenie pressed.
Tina's brow furrowed. She pointed her finger at Newt.
"That guy wanted me to go to England. His case has a bunch of dangerous creatures, and some lady said he's taking me to meet his mother. But that's not right, is it? Because we're here. At the hospital."
Queenie's eyebrows were raised. She turned to Newt, and at her searching look he again clamped down on his thoughts. Occlumency seemed to come to him easier in moments of desperation.
"Your mother?" Queenie asked. Jacob looked nervously between Tina, Queenie and Newt. "What on earth is she talking about? I thought you didn't—"
Newt was saved from having to answer. The door opened, and a dapper little man wearing bright green robes and a top hat entered the room. He immediately glanced around and swept the hat from his head, revealing fashionably oiled brown hair slicked back on his head. He wore several rings of varying size on each hand, some set with precious gems with magical properties.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said with a smile that indicated that he was well aware that he was. "But I believe you are my ten o'clock consult. My name is Horace Slughorn, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Horace Slughorn eased into the cramped room and with a pointed look had Jacob scrambling off the stool and pressing himself against the wall between Queenie and a large bare-rooted floating fern whose fronds were wafting in the breeze. An Aereospore of some kind, Newt registered. It cleaned the air and required very little light. Aereospores of some type might be beneficial to have in his case, especially in the nudu enclosure, as a redundancy in case of emergency.
The little wizard cleared his throat and Newt's attention snapped back to the present. Slughorn looked around the little room, assessing his audience, and began to speak once more.
"I am here as a special request to Mr. Scamander," he said, and paused for Newt to indicate that it was he and not Jacob who had written. As soon as Newt nodded, Slughorn continued.
"Pleased to meet you. Odd really, that we've never met. Perhaps you heard of me from your brother? No? In any case, I've recently left my post as Master Apothecary for St. Mungo's, but your letter was intriguing enough to warrant a consult. The situation with your wife is pitiable, of course, and as a member of such an esteemed wizarding family Mrs. Scamander would of course have access to all the best treatments available from spell damage specialists who have experience with botched memory charms. In the ordinary way I would have left things to the excellent staff here to mix up whatever potions the healers prescribed. But in your letter, you mentioned a potential ingredient, which you believe to be a new discovery in the vaunted history of potions lore.
"You hope that it can be used to concoct a potion to restore you wife's lost memories, but I must warn you that there is no guarantee that the herb that you have found will be useful for such a specific purpose. When new materials are integrated into the Potions Canon, there is a long process of exploration that must take place."
Newt managed to cut in.
"I understand that is the usual procedure, but the plant has in fact been used in local tribal medicine for a similar purpose. I would like your word that this application will be the first explored, and that as soon as Tina can be treated safely, you'll work with her toward recovery."
"So you do indeed have it in your possession?"
Newt slid his hand into his pocket and retrieved a glass jar containing the dried mbwo. For a moment he thought Slughorn would lunge forward and grab it from his hand.
Slughorn stared hard at the black-green leaf, then looked around at the others in the room.
"Pardon me for jumping into business so quickly. Please forgive my rudeness. If you would—"
"This is my sister-in-law." Newt began the introductions.
"Queenie Kowalski," Queenie cut in. Newt's shocked expression was nothing to the choked noise that Jacob hurried to turn into a coughing fit.
"And this is my husband Jacob," she finished primly.
Slughorn smiled and nodded.
"Then this lovely lady must be Porpentina Scamander," he said to Tina, who was looking awake but extremely uneasy.
"I guess so," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly. Slughorn's eyebrows rose, and he chuckled a little.
"I can see why your husband is so eager to restore your memory!" he said. "But you can't have been married long—I hadn't heard a word of it at this year's Ministry Summer Solstice Banquet."
"For three months only," said Newt.
"And you feel the loss of that time together so keenly as to travel halfway round the world to find a cure for a memory spell gone wrong. Young love! You wouldn't find it more romantic just to start over?"
Newt gritted his teeth.
"Tina has been an Auror for MACUSA for five years now. She was injured while on the trail of Gellert Grindelwald. You must be aware of the havoc he has been wreaking across the globe."
Newt put the mbwo back in his pocket and pulled the sheaf of papers from MACUSA from inside his coat.
"These are papers from President Picquery that request help from the Ministry in retrieving Tina's lost memories."
Slughorn's eyes gleamed, and Newt got the unpleasant feeling that he had been successfully baited. Taking the papers, Slughorn eagerly leafed through them.
"So this is a matter of international security. As you most likely know, I have been able to do a few small services for the Ministry in the past. I hope that when you make your full report to the Minister of Magic, you won't neglect to tell him how cooperative I've been in your efforts. At the same time, though, it might be unfair to raise hopes. It would be better to leave out the existence of that herb in your pocket until we've had the chance to work with it."
"Why would I do that?"
Slughorn looked at him pityingly. "Once the Ministry's Special Division for Magical Flora gets ahold of a specimen like that it'll require years of testing before they'll authorize its use. If you want to begin treatment before you are both middle-aged, it would be best to conduct experimental trials unofficially."
Newt's brow furrowed. "But then how will I justify coming here and seeking your help?"
"Lucky for you, St. Mungo's has a renowned memory specialist just back from sabbatical who can take official charge of Mrs. Scamander's case. She will be happy to have me on as a consult. Then we can see about bringing your wife back up to speed," he finished with a wink at Tina, who still looked less than impressed.
Queenie cut in.
"It's not just that we need Tina to remember a certain period of time here. There's not one blank spot. Tina's whole foundation is shifting. She goes in and out of awareness. Her training is sometimes with her, but other times she's helpless. One day she's here and listening, the next she can't even remember her own name."
Queenie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Jacob placed his hand on her arm supportively.
"Hmm," Slughorn rose and approached the table where Tina perched. She looked at him nervously. He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes repeatedly, sending up different color sparks each time.
"Her vision seems to be unimpaired," he muttered. He continued in a different pattern, mumbling to himself.
"Ah, now she's losing focus." He sounded pleased, but Newt saw Tina's glassy eyes and spoke angrily.
"What are you doing? She was lucid just a moment ago!"
Slughorn smiled at him.
"Do not fear, Mr. Scamander. There's a method to the madness here. A repeating pattern lulls her back to semi-consciousness, but she is clearly very present emotionally and tuned in to subjects that cause her discomfort."
He snapped again. "I wonder, Mrs. Scamander, what your mother-in-law will have to say about your decidedly modern mode of dress. Miss Salsify was once seen out in trousers and no one saw hide nor hair of her for three months afterward!"
Newt gulped.
"Who's Salsify?" Tina's brows were furrowed, but she looked inquisitively around at all of them. She rubbed her hands over her loose but fashionable dove-gray trousers. "Do I know her?"
Sulghorn turned to Newt, oozing self-satisfaction. "You see? Back to the present moment, no harm done."
He headed to the door. "A healer will be in to do an assessment and I'll return after I've had the chance to confer with her. However, in the meantime, if you provide me with a sample, I will be able to begin my own work."
He looked expectantly at Newt. Newt looked at Queenie, hoping loudly that she would be able to tell him whether Slughorn was being honest in his offer of help. Queenie shrugged and made a face. Newt wondered if it was just the accent that was tripping her up.
He flicked his wand, summoning a single mbwo leaf, the smallest complete one he had, wrapped in a paper which was a copy of his botanical notes on the plant. It drifted over and Slughorn plucked it triumphantly from the air.
"I look forward to working with you, Mr. Scamander, Mrs. Scamander," he said, his hat returning to his head as he exited the room. "Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski."
And with that they were alone once more.
"Who's Salsify?" Tina repeated impatiently.
Newt hauled his case onto his lap and slumped forward, allowing his forehead to fall onto the brown leather.
"My little sister," came his muffled reply. "I did tell you about her, you know," he added defensively.
Tina snorted. "Like I would know if you're telling the truth. I don't get any of this."
Queenie cut in. "I didn't know you had a little sister," she said. Newt glanced up at her hurt expression and hurried to explain.
"I know I haven't talked much about my family. It—well, to be perfectly honest it was much easier not to. We haven't always got on very well, especially once I was expelled from school. Things were slightly better after the war, but recently there have been some difficulties…"
"Wait, so you've got an older brother, a younger sister, and that Slug guy mentioned your mother. Is that everybody?" Once more, Jacob's cautiousness around the wizarding world was serving him well.
"My father is also at home, but no other siblings. I have quite a few elderly aunts and some cousins as well. My uncle works at the Ministry of Magic as an Auror. He's the one who got me the job, well, after I was tossed out of school. I can't really imagine anyone else will be relevant."
"And they live here?" Jacob persisted.
"Not here, here," Newt answered vaguely. He changed the subject.
"But more importantly, do you think Slughorn is trustworthy? I couldn't understand your expression, Queenie."
Queenie frowned. "I couldn't get it all. He was thinking very fast, and with that accent it wasn't easy to understand. But he sure knows a lot of people. He had half a dozen people he wanted to talk to about the plant, and at least twice that many he was thinking he needed to hide it from. He wants to take credit for the discovery of your plant."
Newt nodded. "Well, that's helpful to know. Let him take all the credit, so long as he can be persuaded to develop a potion to help Tina before going public."
"You really don't mind, do you?" Queenie smiled. Newt shrugged, going a bit red that she seemed to have picked up on his last thought: that he'd happily give all the glory in the world to Slughorn if it meant returning Tina to herself.
A brisk knock sounded at the door. They all looked up, but the door was pulled open before anyone could move. A tall witch in white healer's robes entered the room, wand in one hand, medical file in the other. She had honey blond hair and a stern expression that contrasted with her youthful face. Newt wondered if she was an apprentice.
"Good day. Professor Slughorn asked me to prepare a report on a Porpentina Scamander?"
Queenie indicated the table where Tina was sitting. The witch stepped up and addressed Tina, holding out her hand to shake.
"My name is Honoria Lockhart. I'm a specialist here at St. Mungo's in mental spell damage."
"Tina Goldstein…Scamander, apparently," said Tina. She shook hands, and the others breathed a collective sigh of relief that this introduction was going relatively well.
Healer Lockhart looked around. "I understand the patient has been incapacitated with a blunted memory charm. Who is her legal proxy?"
Newt rose and shook her hand.
"Newt Scamander. Tina is my wife. However, my sister-in-law and her—husband," Newt tripped over this lie, scolding himself for not having confronted Queenie with it the moment the door had shut behind Slughorn, "have both traveled with us from America and are very invested in Tina's care."
"Ah. Well, I will need a moment with the patient for an examination." She spoke briskly.
"Oh—er, is that…I mean to say, perhaps you will need to be acquainted with the facts of her injury first?"
"Not at all. Plenty of time for all that later. The initial examination should be conducted with eyes unclouded by the pronouncements of others."
Healer Lockhart turned to Tina.
"Are you comfortable without a companion or would you prefer to have your sister or your husband remain?"
Queenie looked ready to insist on staying, but Tina said clearly, "C'mon Queenie, I'll be fine by myself. It's only a few medispells, right?"
Healer Lockhart nodded. "Since you're unable to provide a complete oral patient history, it may take a little longer, but it's better to get the facts up front anyway, especially where spell damage is concerned."
She opened the door and before they knew it, Newt, Queenie, and Jacob were turned out in the hall, awkwardly milling about. Newt was certain that there was absolutely no way that one could hear through these doors, but he still couldn't bring himself to step away from the doorframe, just in case.
"You're right, Newt. I can't tell a thing that's going on in there from out here. It's real heavily enchanted," Queenie said.
Newt rested his forehead on the wall beside the doorframe and tried to collect himself while simultaneously hiding his thoughts from Queenie. He couldn't let all these mentions of his family upset him. He was here because he believed it best for Tina, and once they'd heard what the healer had to say, they could come up with a plan for how to best support her as they worked toward her recovery.
"Uh, Queenie?" Jacob asked quietly from a little ways down the hall. "Why did you say that? Why'd you say we're married?"
Jacob's voice was tremulous. Newt squirmed and tried not to listen.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry for springing it on you. But there's no law against marrying no-majs here, and well, things'll be a lot smoother if people think we already—"
"Couldn't you have waited long enough for us to actually get married?"
Queenie sniffled.
"I didn't want to wait another second!" And she dove forward to embrace Jacob. "You're a little angry, huh? But you're right. We'll get married. It'll be okay."
Newt awkwardly shifted away from the emotional scene taking place beside him. While he was happy for his friends, getting married in England might not be as simple as they were envisioning, especially not since Queenie had announced that they already were. The wizarding community was annoyingly tight-knit, and it could reflect very badly on Tina as an outsider if Queenie's lie was found out. Judging a family on one member's poor behavior wasn't fair, but it was the sort of thing that had followed Newt around his entire life, and he was old enough to have given up trying to pretend it didn't happen. How on earth was he going to both keep up the pretense that they were already married and help them to get the necessary licenses? He'd spent the past several years running away from most of his connections in England, so it wasn't as if anyone would be eager to help him.
The door opened once more.
"Mr. Scamander, please step back inside."
"That was quick!" said Queenie, moving back to the door.
Healer Lockhart blocked the doorway.
"Just Mr. Scamander, please," she said.
Newt shrugged at Queenie, handed his case to her, and reentered the examination room. Tina was staring at him with huge, terrified eyes from the examination table. He tried for a reassuring smile, but Tina sniffed and hid her face in her hands. Newt took a step toward her, but she shrank back on the table.
Honoria Lockhart closed the door.
"Please sit down, Mr. Scamander," she said, seating herself on the stool. A quill fluttered at her shoulder, hovering over an open medical file.
"What—what's wrong?" Newt asked. "Please tell me—did you discover something about Tina's injury? Is it…" he swallowed past the lump of fear that had returned to his throat. "Is it hopeless?"
Healer Lockhart's severe expression softened at his distress.
'Do sit down."
He did.
"I haven't finished assessing her for memory retrieval, but I will tell you that memory loss is never truly hopeless. We have this notion of destroying memories—as if we witches and wizards have the power to do such a thing. Instead, my research shows that a memory charm is only an effective mental manipulation which convinces the victim's mind to hide certain information from itself by closing off the path for retrieval. This isn't to say memory charms don't accomplish their purpose. They can be quite effective, and information certainly can remain inaccessible forever, but the mind is a miraculous thing, and just because one pathway becomes disconnected does not mean that another cannot open."
She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.
"But that is not actually relevant to what I called you back in for. I had only got so far as a basic physical examination before something came to my attention that must be addressed immediately. Normally this would be for your wife to discuss with you at her discretion, but because of her status as incapacitated I am legally obligated to bring any complicating factors to your attention at once."
Healer Lockhart turned to where Tina had her knees drawn up on the table.
"Mrs. Scamander, would you prefer to say yourself?"
Tina gave a strangled yelp, and vehemently shook her head. Healer Lockhart frowned and turned to Newt.
"'Complicating factor'," he managed. "What do you mean? Has one of her injuries—"
Healer Lockhart waved her hand dismissively.
"Not to put too fine a point on it: Mrs. Scamander is pregnant. While I have no reason to think that she is at heightened risk because of her pregnancy, it may be a barrier to certain treatments."
Newt blinked, his eyes wide. He suspected that there were many ways one could respond to this, but his mind had gone completely, blessedly blank. He looked right and left. He'd left his case in the hall with Queenie. There was no escape, so he tipped his head back against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried very hard to locate some measure of composure.
A/N: This posting was prompted by VlightPhase. Thank you for your kind review! I am so happy whenever I get to hear readers' response to my stories!