14
JACOB grumbled to himself under his breath for what had to be the third or fourth time as he struggled to balance the heavily laden tray in his hands, trying not to spill a drop or a crumb of cookie while he made his way slowly and carefully towards the Scamander's spare bedroom for guests, of which this girl, this Hope character, was certainly a guest in their home tonight, it would seem, Jacob rationalized.
Odd. Odd was the only word the man could use to describe the turn his otherwise typical night at home in their apartment in New York City with Queenie had taken.
One moment he'd been relaxing with a glass of brandy in his hand after a long day at the bakery he proudly owned, and then the next, Tina Scamander's voice had rung out from their fireplace in their living room, startling Jacob so badly he'd sloshed brandy down his chin and the front of his new shirt, much to his displeasure and chagrin.
He'd suspected the message had been intended for her sister, and had gone to fetch Queenie, who'd been in the midst of making his favorite strudel, God bless that beloved woman, when Tina had insisted that he was the reason she'd called.
That Tina and Newt were in dire need of dealing with his help, that they could use his expertise in calming a young woman down. When Jacob had questioned Tina, asking why it was that they simply couldn't use their magic to do it, she had hesitated to explain, but after a moment, had relented, and informed him in a brief explanation that one of Newt's colleagues, his own protégé, as it so happened, had stumbled across a non-magical young woman in a forest infested with a number of Dark creatures and was badly frightened, in need of a few friendly faces and preferably, someone sympathetic to her plight upon learning that magic was very real. It was at that statement that Jacob knew he had to find a way to help if he could.
Though, as he shuffled his way down the hallway towards Miss Howell's bedroom that Tina had put her up in for the night, the native New Yorker wasn't sure this was Newt's best idea, after all.
Yes, he was a Muggle, of that Newt wasn't wrong in that regard, as much as Jacob found himself wishing he were a wizard, there was no changing the fact that he'd never be one, but he still doubted there was little that he could do to help the girl cope with all of this.
To say that Jacob Kowalski was feeling severely out of place in all of this was something of an understatement.
Jacob blinked as he heard a muffled noise that sounded like a half-choked little sob coming from behind the closed door of Newt and Tina's spare bedroom, a sound that caused the strings of his heart to tug and give a little lurch.
He glanced down at the tea tray in his hands and shifted the piping hot tea mug more to the left to make room for the somewhat pitiable-looking four chocolate chip cookies that Queenie had managed to dig out of Tina's pantry.
Jacob drew in a deep breath to settle his nerves, wishing that Tina or Queenie, or pretty much anyone else but him had been assigned this somewhat daunting task of trying to calm the girl down, to settle his nerves, before forcing himself to lift the semi heavy burden that was this tea tray in his arms and raised his knuckles to knock on the door.
He prayed that the young woman, this Miss Howell would not be as sometimes hot-headed as Newt's wife, Tina, could be, or God forbid, Queenie whenever she was angry.
Though at this point, Jacob did not dare to hope at all.
Hope let out a groan, exhaling a shaking breath as she leant her forehead against her wrists, hopelessness filling her heart as her exhausted mind struggled to process the act of…magic, that Lyall performed in front of her earlier.
She shivered, clenching her teeth shut and squeezing her eyes tightly closed, taking a moment to regulate her breaths before slowly opening them again and staring deeply into the flames of the lighted fireplace.
The tongues of the fire danced in a myriad of hues of red and orange and yellow. A log would pop on occasion, causing the wood to settle down further into the metal bracket.
For an inexplicable moment, Hope wished that she could just…step into the fireplace and call out the address of her flat and the fireplace could somehow magically whisk her back home.
Hope's eyes widened as she realized what she was doing to herself, and she smacked her forehead with the flat of her palm and dragged it down along the side of her face.
"Get a hold of yourself, Hope," she murmured in a low, hushed voice that was barely above a whisper. "You're talking to yourself as though m—magic actually exists!"
It doesn't! It can't! That's impossible! We—I—I would have surely seen it in the streets, wizards and witches and dragons, wouldn't I?
None of this was making any sense to her, and her mind felt like it was utterly reeling in shock, disbelief, and guilt.
And it was the guilt that the distraught young Muggle woman chose to focus on in this particular moment.
The moment Lupin had turned on his heels to go, Hope was stricken with an extreme sense of guilt and regret towards how she'd reacted towards his little display of magic.
Whether or not it was an optical illusion or just quick reflexes on Lyall's part, Hope couldn't know for sure, and it was the ambiguity of not knowing that killed her.
She had treated Mr. Lupin so coldly, not allowing her savior a moment to explain himself to the point where she had hurt him, had wounded him more deeply than she ever could have dreamed of by shouting at the man and demanding her leave her alone, and now…he was gone.
Hope could feel bile rising in her throat and all she wanted to do was throw back her head and scream!
What on earth had she done?! She did the only thing her body would allow her to do in this regard. Hope rested her head in her hands and let out a single, soft, choking sob.
She had pushed Lyall Lupin away from her, when the only crime he had supposedly committed against her was tell her the truth, and it was a shocking truth at that.
There was still a large part of Hope's mind that was convinced this was all a horrible dream, that she was still lost in those dark woods.
Hope was unable to repress the violent shiver that clawed its way up her spine, down her back, and through her heart.
If only there was a way Mr. Lupin or Mr. Scamander could magic me instantly back home and away from this strange place, Hope thought bitterly to herself as she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms about them, resting her chin on her knees.
A million and one thoughts were racing through poor young Hope's mind, going a mile a minute.
I wonder if Janey tried to call while I was still lost in those woods. What if she's worried something happened? What if she called the police and tried to report me missing? Oh, I bet poor Janey is worried sick!
I've no way to let her know! Do wizards even use telephones? How am I supposed to call for help? Do they drive a car, or—or magic themselves everywhere they need to go? How on earth will I get back home?
How long am I going to be here? Am I prisoner here now that I know the truth? Will they let me leave? What will they do to me? Will Lyall take me back home once morning comes?
What's going to happen to me? If—if there really IS such a thing as magic, a—and witches and wizards, am I even allowed to know all of this?
Too many questions and no answers, and to top it all off, she had pushed Lyall away, the one man in the entire evening thus far who had treated her with an ounce of kindness and caring, and because of her and the horrible way she'd yelled at him, now that young man was gone.
She would be lucky if he returned and wished to speak to her again. Hope exhaled a shaking breath through her nose.
Hope could only hope that if he did decide to try to speak to her when he got back from those stupid woods with Mr. Scamander, that the man would at least hear her out, as she owed the man a grave apology, and could only pray that she might be forgiven by the harsh, cold way she had reacted.
Seeing the antagonizing look of hurt on his face, the unshed tears in Lupin's light, kind hazel brown eyes very nearly crippled poor Hope with an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse for how she had yelled at him earlier.
Hope let out a haggard sigh and glanced down at the book clutched close to her chest, feeling the worst of her fear and confusion evaporate as she held steadfast and tight onto the little paperback copy of The Hobbit as though her very life depended on it, and right now, maybe, her life did.
The book was a relatively small copy, no bigger than five inches wide or seven inches tall. The paperback book was just the right size to stuff into her small handbag for on-the-go reading or during her one-hour lunchbreaks at the office when she didn't feel like leaving the office for lunch.
If Hope were to open the book to the inside cover, the first thing she would see was a man of all of Middle-Earth.
The book's cover was a rich, dark forest green, the title letters shining in gold print, and the edges of the pages were gold, the maps and illustrations scattered throughout.
She let out a pitiful half-choked sob as the pads of her fingertips delicately traced over the gold letters of the title.
Bilbo Baggins wouldn't react this way to learn magic exists, Hope thought disparagingly to herself, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. But then, he LIVES in a world where magic exists, a—and I guess…I do too now…Oh, but who am I kidding, Hope? This is insane!
Hope was having trouble fathoming the idea that she was even entertaining the possibility of magic existing in a world parallel and secret to hers, but as her mind flitted through the details of what had happened to her this evening, it all seemed like it was beginning to make sense in her mind.
Mr. Scamander's strange name and attire, the knickknacks on his shelves in the spare bedroom she was staying in, how those brutes in the woods seemed to just…magically appear out of nowhere, and then there was Lyall's little stunt earlier to stop her hot cup of soup from spilling.
But how utterly ridiculous this all was! Magic—magic couldn't be real! Surely, she would have seen it happening around her, wouldn't she? She furrowed her brows in confusion and pursed her lips into a thin line.
Maybe these…wizards, here she gulped nervously and gave her head a curt little shake to try to clear her mind, are private folks, just like Mr. Baggins in my book, who just wants to be left alone and have no adventures and read his books. Besides, if normal people DID know about magic, they'd probably be wanting these…magical people to try to solve all their problems… Hope gave her head a nod.
If all of this was real, it had to be the only plausible explanation.
The sound of a light rapping of heavy knuckles on her closed bedroom door startled young Hope out of her truly alarming thoughts at that exact moment.
A startled cry left her lips as Hope jerked her head upwards and twisted herself a bit, still clutching her book close to her chest so she could face whoever had entered the bedroom.
Her face quickly fell, crestfallen, as her gaze landed upon the sight of the dark-haired stranger who'd arrived a little bit ago, Jacob, she thought his name was.
The pudgy, somewhat overweight man was standing in the now-open doorway, carrying a heavily laden tea tray with a steaming cup of tea and what looked to be a couple of cookies on a plate, and looking utterly lost and confused and timid.
She had secretly been hoping Lyall would have returned by now and had wanted to see her.
Hope knew she owed him an apology for the truly despicable way she had behaved, and Hope could only hope the man would accept her apology.
Nevertheless, upon catching the briefest glimpses of disappointment flitting across the man's dark brown eyes, Hope forced a rather strained smile on her face, feeling the skin beneath her lids crumple, though her lips fought against her urge to be molded falsely into a reluctant smile.
"E—excuse me, Miss Howell," he stammered, taking a rather bumbling step in through the front door, crossing the threshold that separated the hallway from the bedroom, all the while eyeing her warily and taking a few steps to the side in order to keep a relatively safe distance. "I—I don't mean to interrupt…whatever it is that you're doing, b—but Mr. Scamander thought you'd like a nice cup of tea, mum."
"H—Huh?" Hope stammered, her voice soft and faint. She only watched as the man nodded with a jerk of his head towards the tray in his hands.
When she did not answer him, Jacob slowly came forward to set it down on the night table next to the bed that she was still resting in, an afghan blanket draped over her knees. She blinked at the tray in curiosity.
Was this man…was he actually offering her refreshments, after the horrible way that she'd behaved?
Hope couldn't help but to feel somewhat dazed and confused, after all, since ending up…here, no one, save for perhaps Lyall, had thought to treat her with the slightest inkling of normalcy, and here this man was, offering her a cup of tea and what looked to be chocolate chip cookies.
Though it quickly became apparent he found her somewhat intimidating as Jacob Kowalski was constantly looking everywhere but directly at her.
It wasn't until the older man took a nervous step backward, fiddling nervously with his fingers, the edges of his thin dark mustache twitching without prompting, as he turned abruptly to leave that Hope realized she'd not thanked him for the cookies.
"Wait!" she called out, grunting with the effort to free herself from the entanglement of her bedsheets.
She flinched at how desperate and loud her tone sounded.
The poor man in response to her unexpected plea actually lost his footing and very nearly fell back against the wood door.
Letting out a little gasp of surprise, she covered her mouth with her hand and quickly scrambled to her feet, lunging forward on her bare heels in order to help him.
"Oh, no, I—I'm so sorry, sir, I—I didn't mean to…are you all right? I didn't mean to—to scare you like that, sir, I'm really so very sorry." And she looked it, too, Jacob noticed, out of the corner of his eye as he met her gaze. "Seems like nothing I do tonight is turning out right. A—are you sure you're not hurt? You're sure you're okay?"
Without waiting for a proper response from this Mr. Kowalski, who Hope had yet to truly get acquainted with on a personal level, beyond from knowing the man's name, Hope shot out an arm and latched onto the man's forearm, helping the poor bloke to stand upright on his own again.
Mr. Kowalski instantly took a staggering step back and straightened his tie in order to look somewhat presentable again, looking flustered and quite embarrassed as he did so.
Hope flinched, inwardly berating herself for invading this stranger's personal space. "Um, yes, I'm fine, Miss Howell, th—thanks for askin'," Jacob murmured under his breath, his mustache twitching as he spoke in a low, uncomfortable tone.
He refused to meet her eyes, instead looking around the little bedroom, at anywhere, but at Hope, she noted.
"Thank you. Mr. Scamander said to tell you i—if there's anything you need, um, please see me, and I'll do what I can. The others, Newt and Lyall should be back soon. I hope," he muttered darkly under his breath, his gaze flitting and settling somewhat interestedly on her copy of The Hobbit that Hope had set gingerly on top of the mattress when she'd bolted from the bed to help catch Jacob's fall.
Feeling the need to make up for her initial clumsiness and not to mention her sudden desire not to be left alone at the moment while anxiously awaiting Newt and Lyall's return, Hope tried to wrack her brain for something to say, anything that would keep him by her side a minute longer.
"Um," she gazed about her surroundings, looking for something, anything with which she could use to start a decent conversation, when she noticed Jacob eyeing her book. "It's—it's a favorite of mine, sir," she breathed, her hazel eyes going wide and round with shock when she noticed a hint of recognition dawning in the man's eyes.
"One of mine as well," he muttered, letting out a somewhat nervous chuckle as Jacob reluctantly tore his gaze away from her book and forced himself to meet Hope's piercing stare once more, as he helped himself to sit down in the armchair that Newt had previously occupied. "You're gonna need it, I'm sure, to help you…get used to it."
Here, he wildly waved his arms as if trying to make a point and out of a nervous habit, let out another laugh.
This time, Mr. Kowalski did look at her before collapsing his head against the headrest of his chair, closing his eyes, and proceeding to let out an exasperated-sounding sigh.
Hope felt a pang of guilt prick at her heartstrings as she could see how utterly tired the poor fellow looked, and she couldn't help but shake the feeling it was entirely her fault.
"I…it's, forgive me, I—it's just that…it's hard to believe all of this is supposed to be real," she murmured hurriedly. "Magic? Dragons? Witches and wizards? Why—why did they tell me all of this? A—and am I even supposed to know any of this exists? Will I—will I get in trouble now that I know the truth? What will they do to me, sir?" she stammered, looking towards Jacob for confirmation, who was shooting her a sympathetic glance.
Hope swallowed a lump in her throat and pressed on, wanting to apologize. "I'm sorry that I caused Mr. Lupin and Mr. Scamander so much trouble, and I dropped into his home unannounced. I hope I didn't cause any of you too much trouble tonight, sir."
"Oh well, it appears it can't be helped, Miss Howell, so no use worryin' about it," Mr. Kowalski said in a rush and…was that guilt in his eyes?
Hope knitted her brows together in a frown as she settled herself back on the edge of the mattress and held onto her paperback copy of The Hobbit once more, letting her fingers ghost over the title.
"Why don't you help yourself to a cuppa tea, Miss Howell and one of the cookies that Newt's wife made? They're really good. I'm sure it'll help you feel better, at least a little bit, yes?" he questioned, gesturing towards the steaming mug of tea alongside the plate of cookies he'd brought.
Not wanting to appear rude considering all the fuss she'd caused everyone tonight, Hope offered a nod in return, graciously accepting the cup of hot Earl Grey and wordlessly took a delicious-looking chocolate chip cookie off her plate and nibbled off an edge, finding it quite tasty.
She watched in silence as Mr. Kowalski expelled a long sigh of relief, this movement alone signaling just how stressed out he was becoming and Hope somehow felt that it was all connected to her in some way or another now.
Why was he looking so tired and overwhelmed?
Hope had to force herself to think about the cookie in her hands or else the tasty treat would be reduced to crumbs in her grip.
She settled for taking another bite of cookie, the chocolate from the chocolate chips melting and the sweetness lingering upon her tongue in a truly delectable way.
Whoever had baked these, probably Mrs. Scamander, Hope wondered if she would be out of line to ask for a couple of cookies to take home with her in the morning, they would serve as a nice dessert during the evenings after dinner.
She glanced towards Jacob and wracked her brain for something to say. "You look like you aren't having a very good night, either," she said sympathetically as she absentmindedly stirred the teabags in her mug of Earl Grey.
The poor chap's dark brown eyes widened in horror as he brought his head down to stare at Hope in utter alarm and shock. "Ah, n-no, Miss Howell, that's not it at all," he stammered, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks.
"Just Hope," Hope offered kindly and shot him a somewhat nervous smile, hoping it would calm Jacob down. "May I call you Jacob?" she pressed kindly.
Her smile widened a bit as the man blinked at her owlishly but was able to recover relatively quickly and nodded at Hope.
The man's gaze slowly tapered off as he looked about the bedroom desperately, as though searching for salvation.
He's afraid of being rude, Hope thought wildly, biting down on the tip of her tongue hard enough to draw blood.
To say that there were a million questions burning on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be asked was something of a gross understatement, and Hope didn't know where to start.
But in the end, she asked the only thing she could think of, the one question that perhaps she wanted the answer to the most, that morphed into two more questions.
"Is…is this…real? Am I—am I dreaming, Mr. Kowalski? Is…is Lupin really a wizard?" Her eyes widened at just the thought and a startled gasp escaped her lips as she swiveled her gaze back around to meet Jacob's. She'd previously been staring down into her mug of tea while she searched for the right words to begin how best to phrase her initial shock at struggling to process all that had happened. "Are you a wizard, Mr. Kowalski?" Hope gasped breathlessly.
"Just Jacob, Hope, please, I prefer it," Jacob corrected, throwing her words back at the young Muggle woman, but not in an unkind way.
He shot her what Hope presumed was meant to be a sympathetic smile, but in actuality looked more like a pained grimace, his mustache twitching, as the man appeared to be lost in a deep thought of sorts.
Perhaps he was best searching for how to answer Hope's questions.
It seemed to take the poor chap an eternity to find his voice, and when he did, his voice was calm and collected.
"To answer some of your questions, uh, no, I'm not a wizard, but I wanna be one," he murmured sheepishly, reaching up a hand to scratch at an itch behind her ear.
"Is there a way to learn how to be a…a wizard or witch?" Hope questioned immediately, feeling, well…hopeful.
She could think of the first thing she'd do if she possessed the gift of magic, and that was magic her boss, Steve, into a toad, to represent how truly awful he was, warts and all.
Hope quickly found herself clutching onto her book almost painfully, and it was only when she felt the corners of the pages begin to curl in her tight, ironclad grip that she let out a terrified squeak and immediately set the book aside on the night table so as to not damage perhaps her favorite book of all time and returned her attention to Jacob.
Her face instantly fell, and Hope could not repress how her shoulders slumped forward in immense disappointment as she silently watched Newt Scamander's familial relation quickly shake his head no.
"No, sorry to say, Miss Howell, but there isn't. If there was, I woulda been first in line, I think." He scratched at his chin in a pensive thought. "You gotta be born with it, that's what Queenie, my wife, says. Like it's in your blood or somethin', I don't quite understand how it works, but I know well enough, I guess."
Hope slowly nodded her head, and the next question tumbled unchecked from her lips before she could stop herself.
"Why—i—if magic really is real and exists, th—then why haven't we seen it, you know, in the skies, and the streets? I would think it would be pretty hard to keep a dragon a secret, don't you think, Jacob?" she asked, feeling like she already knew the answer, and yet at the same time, wanted to hear it from him.
He clearly had much more experience with this sort of thing than she had, considering he'd married an honest-to-goodness witch.
Hope shivered, but not with fear, but from possible excitement and intrigue that coursed through her veins at the idea of an entire magical world existing in parallel to hers.
Suddenly, it made the world around her seem not so boring and egregiously dull, wondering what was magic and what wasn't.
"'Cause the magical folk like their privacy, Miss Hope, that's why, they got their ways of hiding. Spells and whatnot," Jacob explained in a somber, solemn tone, not unlike his previous jovial nature at all. "Can you imagine what it would be like for them if Muggles and No-Maj's—uh, what they call us non-magical folk," he quickly explained, seeing the look of confusion dawning in Hope's dark brown eyes, "soon discovered that magical folk existed right alongside them in their everyday lives? They'd be getting' hounded constantly, never knowin' any peace."
Hope slowly nodded her head at all of the information, her mind once more drifting back to thoughts of Lyall, thinking how quiet, shy, and reserved Mr. Lupin was.
Perhaps he was that way naturally, or his demeanor stemmed from not wanting to upset the peace in case he did happen to stumble across a…a Muggle, like she was.
The guilt she'd been feeling earlier instantly wormed its way into the pit of her churning stomach as she looked towards Jacob.
"I—I hurt Lyall earlier, with my reaction," she whispered, suddenly feeling a fiery heat creep to her cheeks.
Hope blinked in shock and surprise when Jacob merely waved away her statement with a dismissive wave of his hand and scoffed, rolling his eyes, and telling her not to worry about it, and the older man quickly said as much.
"Don't worry about it, Hope. Mr. Lupin's gonna be just fine. He's one tough nut to crack, and Newt'll talk some sense into him, I'm sure. He knows it's a lot for anybody to take in, but especially you, uh, considering the night you've had," he murmured, lowering his voice an octave, suddenly looking ashamed to have brought up fresh memories.
"Do you really think so?" Hope breathed, hardly daring to believe it, unaware she'd leaned forward off her mountain of pillows and had been hanging onto Jacob's every word.
Hope smiled a bit, overwhelmed by a sudden feeling she couldn't quite name in this fellow non-magical man's presence. Feeling courageous, she asked another question.
"Why are you here, Mr. Kowalski? Did Newt send you in? Do—do you really even want to be here, sir? I—I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than listen to me?" she questioned in a voice that she hoped was kind.
Jacob Kowalski startled a bit upon hearing the young Muggle woman's words, sanguinely lifting his gaze to meet hers, and the sight before him, now that Miss Howell, had calmed down, was more than a little relaxing, for which Jacob was relieved. Newt and Lyall would be relieved to hear she'd calmed down by the time those two got back.
She was framed by the light of the candles on her nightstand warmly.
Her friendly but nervous smile and her rich brown eyes calmed whatever frayed nerves were within Queenie's husband prior. He searched her face for any sign of fear and hesitation, but Jacob could find none within.
He shifted nervously as Hope's expression changed, becoming more crestfallen, and Jacob swore the girl Mr. Lupin had taken a shine to was looking disappointed.
Well, of course she'd ask him that, what else was he thinking she would say, after the horrible night she'd had?
To be quite honest with himself, Jacob wasn't really sure why he had agreed to Newt's request, other than Newt was his friend.
He knew he pitied her position, having been in a similar spot once before when Newt had lost his briefcase back in New York, in a time that seemed like ages ago, but no other answer would come up when he searched his brain.
Was it to ask Miss Howell questions of what she was doing in those woods with a nasty boggart? No. The was the last thing Hope needed. Jacob thought for a moment.
Maybe…maybe he was here to help her, in what way, he didn't know, but maybe if she would let him tell a few stories, perhaps of how he'd first met Newt Scamander, then it might help to assuage some of her fears and general uncertainties about the world she'd been unceremoniously thrust into.
Hope Howell didn't really know, but all Jacob knew was that he was tired of the way that the wizarding community treated people like him and Miss Howell, the Muggles.
He returned his gaze back towards the young woman perched on the bed, watching, waiting, with hopeful eyes.
"I'm not really sure, Miss Howell." His smile returned. "Maybe…maybe I'm just lookin' for a friend in all this."
Hope looked a little shocked but less so than she had expected to be, and she felt the tension in her shoulders leave as she rested her head back against the various pillows, her dark hair splayed out on either side of her with a fan. A hesitant smile flitted across her pretty features.
The candles on her windowsill and on her nightstand flickered as the two sat in a momentary silence before Jacob launched into the story of how he met Newt in New York, but this time, the two weren't strangers anymore. Instead, Hope Howell and Jacob Kowalski sat together.
As friends.