A/N Hello everyone! Just due to the way the plot of this story worked out, I've been taking my sweet time to get to the introduction of my female characters of the human (ish) variety: that's rectified this week! To the guest commenter with the newly fitted expander, hope it went well and you're not in too much pain, here's some Tina (as well as my OC house-elf) in the hope of making things at least somewhat better if I can!

Chapter 11: Here Come the Girls

"Master Newt!" a shrill voice cried as a Floo journey, a portkey and several apparitions later, Newt finally stepped through the familiar front door of his London home.

"Hilpy is being so glad that you is home! Hilpy is being worried that you is off adventuring when Mistress Tina is getting back, and Mistress Tina is doing scary eyes because Hilpy is letting you go off alone, sir!"

"Well, thank goodness that we've both been spared Mistress Tina's scary eyes, I agree with you, they can be quite alarming."

Those beautiful smouldering salamander eyes that still captivated him after all these years, like fire in dark water, could indeed flash quite dangerously when Tina was annoyed. He crouched to the level of the elderly house-elf and spoke seriously.

"You do know though, Hilpy, that when Tina does her scary eyes it's only ever me that's in trouble? She'd never be truly cross at you, and there's never ever going to be a time when you need to punish yourself, yes?"

A few years ago, Newt and Tina had inherited Hilpy from Newt's far more traditional parents, which meant that she was still attached to many of the old formalities; she had been so distressed when told to drop the 'Master' and 'Mistress' titles that they had quickly reassured her she could call them whatever she liked. Perhaps paradoxically considering this, she was unafraid to challenge Newt when it came to his wellbeing; having known him from his infancy and been something of a second mother to him, it was as though she still considered herself under orders to 'look after little Newt and don't let him tread mud into the carpets.' Nevertheless, knowing how conscientious she was, Newt still had nightmares that one day he'd walk in on her punishing herself for a perceived error; his gut twisted in the knowledge that his parents, raised in a different era of wizarding society, would have instructed her to do exactly that. Hence, he was utterly delighted when she responded to his gentle reminder by rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Master Newt, Hilpy knows, no punishment with Master Newt and Mistress Tina, strange order though that is, Master Newt is telling Hilpy every week since she is here. Hilpy is not stupid, she remembers!"

Newt raised his hands in concession. "Sorry, Hilpy, didn't mean to underestimate your intelligence, it's just that I know things are very different for you here and I don't like the thought of you hurting yourself, that's all."

"Master Newt was always a one for these fanciful ideas," she observed fondly as she leaned forward and straightened his travel-ruffled bow tie.

"I suppose I was and still am," he agreed cheerfully. "Thank you for putting up with me, Hilpy."

They headed through to the living room and he informed Hilpy that he had brought a guest, nearly sending her into a frenzy for not having set up a room for master Maglor, until Newt managed to placate her with the information that he'd mainly be staying in the suitcase.

"Now the important thing is, it's going to be a secret," Newt explained. "Just you, me and Tina will know he's here, maybe Jacob and Queenie a bit later on, but no-one else. He's very…unique, you see, and the Ministry would blunder around trying to interrogate him, maybe lock him up, even, and we don't want that. Is that alright with you?"

"Hilpy will not tell block-headed buffoons at the Ministry about Master Maglor. Hilpy is good at secrets!"

Newt chuckled at her phrasing. He really needed to stop ranting about his employers in front of Hilpy, she was picking up far too many of his bad habits.

"Thank you, that's great, I knew I could trust you. Do you want to meet him?"

She nodded excitedly and Newt rapped out the knock he'd agreed with Maglor on his suitcase lid. Hilpy's bulbous eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she saw the lithe form emerge gracefully from the case, and she bowed in the excessively formal manner Newt had been trying to convince her not to use.

"Master Maglor, sir! You is one of the old ones! Hilpy is thinking it is just old elf stories! Is you real, sir?"

Maglor looked as bewildered as Newt felt.

"Maglor, this is Hilpy, she's a house-elf. Hilpy, this is Maglor, he's an Elda. He's still learning English so we might have to explain a few things. What did you mean about him being an 'old one'? Do you know about his people?"

"It is house-elf foolishness, sir, not for masters. Hilpy was thinking it was nonsense but Master Maglor's magic is older than hers, so it was true all along. Hilpy is sorry for her unbelief, sir!" she wailed, throwing herself at his feet. Newt could only shrug in response to Maglor's panicked what do I do now? expression, so the Elda cautiously crouched to her level, still dwarfing her due to his impressive height.

"Hilpy is good. You be not sorry," he tried to reassure her, looking to Newt for confirmation that he was on the right track, and getting a nervous smile and a hand motion to continue from the magizoologist.

"I…do not understand. Why is…Why are you sad? What is 'old one?'"

Merlin, this was going to be confusing for poor Maglor, now that he had Hilpy's non-standard grammar to contend with as well as Newt's inexpert teaching. He really hadn't thought this through.

"You don't know, sir?" Hilpy asked, raising her head warily.

"I was alone. Much alone. I do not…know much. About now."

"Hilpy does not understand how you are still here, sir?"

House-elf and Elda stared at each other in mutual puzzlement. Newt quickly resolved to separate them before they confused each other further and talk to them alone to investigate. He also knew that nothing soothed Hilpy's frayed nerves like having a simple task to perform.

"Okay, Hilpy, why don't you get the kettle on while I give Maglor the tour of the house? I'll come and catch you in the kitchen?"

"Of course, sir!" Hilpy squeaked, evidently relieved, and snapped herself out of the room, making Maglor jump.

"Do you know what Hilpy is? Have you ever seen a house-elf before?" Newt asked, intensely curious about the interaction that had just taken place. Maglor confirmed that he hadn't, looking thoughtful.

"Why she talks like knows me?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'll ask her and try to find out," Newt reassured him. "Let me show you the house."

Maglor found it all fascinating- understandably, he must have missed lots of interior design developments in his years of isolation. He was most perplexed by the electric light fittings- they were actually powered by magic but they had come with the house so Newt and Tina had kept them- and he was awestruck by the concept of pressing a button to illuminate a room. The sight of Newt's unusually tidy study (Hilpy had clearly been in during Newt's absence) livened him up significantly, and Newt watched with a fond smile as he inspected the impressive collection of reference tomes of the bookshelves and the neat stack of parchment on the desk.

Newt made it clear that Maglor was free to come and go between the house and the suitcase as he pleased, although he explained that he might be asked to hide in the case if there were other wizards around. He nodded in solemn understanding at that, and Newt left him to explore the living room whilst he headed to the kitchen to see if he could decipher what Hilpy's strange reaction had been all about. She was significantly calmer when he found her, just as he'd hoped, so he started investigating.

"What did you mean when you said that Maglor was an 'old one'? I've never heard you talk about them before."

"It is story, old story, about how the house-elves came to be, sir. Hilpy is thinking it is all much poppycock until today." She shifted her feet, a little uncomfortable. "Old house-elf mothers tell it to their little ones. They is saying that before this world, there was another. Different rules, different magic, and the elves came from a land across the sea. Elves was not being bonded to humans then, they was powerful, and tall, and strong, like Maglor, and they was making themselves great cities just with gold and shining jewels."

"Wait…you're telling me that house-elves used to look like Maglor?"

Magical creature evolution could take some strange turns, but Newt would never have theorised such a close relation between the diminutive, service-obsessed house-elves and the tall, physically powerful Eldar.

"Hilpy is only telling what they is saying, sir!"

"Sorry, Hilpy, I'll shut up. Please continue."

"The elves was powerful, but they was doing bad things. Terrible things! They was making things that sended people mad, and they was having too much power. Some of them was good, was trying to help poor humans, and there was big wars to fix the wrongs. Big, big wars, with elves setting dragons on each other, like in the first war with wizards only worse because dragons were the size of cities! At last, that teached them that elves must not keep on in human world, so they is doing three things. Some is sailing away back to their home, no-one can find it now. Some is vanishing, they is fading to spirit and then nothing. But the third, they is knowing that they damaged human world, and they is sorry, very sorry, sir! So they is becoming less. They is begging to atone, so they is becoming mortal, and small, and frail, and they is finding wizards with power and swearing to serve them so they can help the humans look after new world after the wars. They is being the very first house-elves, and they and their children and their children's children is sworn to always serve because of the terrible things that happened before."

House-elves had an entire mythology and story of their origins, Newt had worked with them for two years in his youth and he hadn't ever thought to ask. It made him feel rather ashamed of himself and honoured that he was being trusted with this knowledge now.

"So you thought it was just a story, but now you think Maglor is one of those elves from before so it must be true?"

Hilpy nodded, her startling green eyes wide with sincerity.

"How do you know that he is one of them?"

"House-elves sense things, Master Newt, magical senses. Master Maglor has old, old, magic, older than house-elf magic, much older than wizard magic. Who else could he be?"

Shivers began to creep over Newt's skin as he processed what Hilpy was implying. Magical academics generally agreed that house-elf magic was the oldest known kind, and that house-elves were peculiarly attuned to the magical auras of others. If Hilpy said that Maglor was older than her people's magic, then that meant…

"How long ago was it? The time of the old ones? Do you know?"

"Long ago, sir, beyond the memory of the great-grandmothers."

House-elves can live for centuries.

"In years, do you think you could guess?"

"Thousands, at least sir, maybe more."

Thousands. Newt had known Maglor was old, had guessed centuries, but multiple millennia – it was hard to even conceptualise what that length of time must feel like.

"So if he is one of the old ones, then why did he stay here as he was? He doesn't know about house-elves, you see. He thinks that all his people died."

"That is most strange, sir. Hilpy does not know."

Newt thanked her, mind whirring, as she zipped off to the living room with the tea. House-elf senses could be uncannily precise at times, and were underestimated by many wizards, so he trusted Hilpy implicitly when she said that Maglor's magic was older than hers. But as for all the rest of it, it was probably a complex weaving of history and fantasy, which Hilpy herself had initially thought just a story, and it was difficult to tease out the strands of truth. Dragons the size of cities, he knew that bit at least was false, it was preposterous: magical limits and simple aerodynamics prevented them from exceeding the size of a small village, and only the very largest Ironbellies would ever reach that size. Perhaps it was more representative of some expansive violent decimation. That would explain how so many could have vanished without a trace.

The question of the link between the Eldar and house-elves was trickier: he'd never heard of a magical race that could change the very nature of their being simply through force of will and a desire for penance, so perhaps that was a way to explain a sudden change in their species due to other factors. Another effect of the theorised magical object that had hurt Maglor's hands, perhaps? It was like a jigsaw puzzle, and Newt felt that he was looking at the scattered pieces, not quite able to slot them together.

He walked away from that conversation with more questions than answers, wondering how on earth he was supposed to explain all this across a language barrier which he now suspected spanned millennia.

Maglor was highly perplexed by the diminutive being currently serving him tea from an elegant floral teaset, and it looked like she shared the sentiment, as she peered up at him with wide, curious eyes. He struggled with her speech a little, as it seemed to twist and reshape the grammar rules he thought he'd already absorbed. She was chattering nervously, repeating the phrases 'old ones' and 'Master Newt is saying' several times- he nodded along politely, though unsure exactly what he was confirming. He thanked her once she'd poured the tea though, and that delighted her, as she bowed and squeaked,

"You is being very welcome, sir!"

They were spared any more mutual incomprehension by Newt's arrival, which he was hoping would clarify things a little. He glanced between them thoughtfully, worried his lip a little, and began.

"House-elves, like Hilpy, they have…stories, about you."

"Setory," Maglor murmured the new word, then corrected himself, "Story." English had far more consonant clusters than was reasonable in Maglor's opinion, and he had to clamp down on his instinct to add more vowels to make it flow more like the elvish languages. At first he had found it terribly unmusical, but increasingly he was hearing that it had a music of its own, a melody he was keen to learn.

Newt grabbed a book from a nearby shelf, leafing through it, to illustrate the meaning.

"Story, like in a book," he explained, and the significance of Newt's statement finally sunk in. Hilpy's people told tales about him- so that meant she knew, and her initial reaction on seeing him must have been abject terror on realising that the killer of her childhood nightmare had turned up in her home, and despite all his best intentions he was still causing suffering…

"About me?" he repeated, horror-struck.

"Well, not you specifically, but the Eldar," Newt corrected quickly, using hand gestures to emphasise his point, which alleviated Maglor's panic. "They think they were like you, like the Eldar, and years ago they changed into house-elves."

Hilpy was nodding emphatically. "There was old ones, then there was house-elves," she chipped in.

Taking a moment to work through this, Maglor finally realised what was being implied, what Hilpy had meant when she said, 'old ones.' It was staggering. He'd assumed that if there was anyone else who hadn't taken ship at the end of the Fourth Age, they would have faded; the duty of his penance prevented that from happening to him. But if this was to be believed, they had done something drastic, or something drastic had happened to them, and therefore Hilpy was some kind of…very distant relative? Earlier in his life, he might have been horrified at the mere suggestion that his people would relinquish their power and grace in order to serve humans; but now, he couldn't help but notice how genuinely happy Hilpy seemed, how free from the burdens of history that his people were fated to carry. If he'd understood this correctly, and it really was true, then maybe those Eldar who became the house-elves had the right idea. And just maybe, he could take comfort in this remnant of his people who were not lost to him, after all.

"Is it… real?" he asked, astounded.

Hilpy and Newt shared a long, uncertain look.

"Maybe. We don't know," Newt said diplomatically. "But maybe when you've learned more English, if you talk to Hilpy about the Eldar, you can work it out."

"Hilpy is wanting to know all about the old ones, if you is wanting to tell it, sir!" she chirped enthusiastically.

Fascinated by this new possibility and intrigued by Hilpy's insights into the history he had isolated himself from, Maglor welcomed this prospect. Once a bard, always a bard: there was nothing more exciting than an enthusiastic listener, and if Hilpy wanted to know the stories he had remembered in secret for the past four ages, the good along with the bad, then he would oblige and share them.

"Yes," he said, smiling at his new friend and possibly long-lost cousin, "I will try."

Two days later

This time, Tina would be firm. This time, she was going to tell Newt exactly what she thought about his running off to a smuggling bust with no backup without telling her. This time, she was going to stay angry long enough to actually make a difference. No matter how crestfallen he looked, she was not going to fall for it. Nope. She was prepared.

She slipped into the front door and he bounded into the hallway like an excited puppy, opening his arms to his wife.

"Tina! I missed you!"

She didn't respond to his invitation, instead turning to hang her coat up and crossing her arms, which was very unusual for her, since she would normally jump to reciprocate any physical displays of affection Newt initiated.

"Really? I'm surprised you had time."

"Tina…?"

"You amused yourself perfectly well gallivanting off busting smuggling rings in Norway, so I hear."

"Ah."

"Yes, ah. Baylard cornered me before I left the department. You created something of a paperwork mountain for him, apparently."

Newt mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like traitor. Tina raised an eyebrow.

"Don't go blaming Baylard for this, mister, I know for a fact that you turned up uninvited."

"We always turn up uninvited!"

"Yes, exactly. We. I wasn't there to protect you! What if something had happened to you? What if I'd come back from two weeks undercover to find that you weren't here because you were hurt or worse?" Tina's voice cracked on the last word, and just like that her intimidating persona shattered, because she'd shown Newt where she was hurting, and he always managed to end up comforting her when she did that. It was really very inconvenient of him to insist on doing that when she was trying to be angry.

"Tina," and there it was, that soft consoling voice, like he was talking down an agitated occamy, and she knew she'd lost. "I really am sorry I worried you. I didn't mean to. And you know we would have gone together if we could. It's just that there wasn't any time and creatures were in danger…"

"So were you!"

"Yes, but I was fine. I am fine. I took Greg with me. And I can protect myself when I need to."

"I know you can, but that's not the point! You shouldn't have to protect yourself! That's my job!"

"And I couldn't ask for a better protector. And you were protecting me, on my last trip, even though you weren't there."

"How exactly?" Tina inquired, suspecting that Newt was about to say something unutterably sweet, with those big innocent eyes of his, and that the anger she was valiantly trying to hold onto would melt away before it.

"Because I knew I had you to come home to. I had to make it safely back to you."

Tina understood, now, why demiguises ended up being poached despite their clairvoyance. Despite knowing what was coming, it still defeated her. The sheer fluttery warmth of knowing that Newt was being completely honest when he said that, not just trying to wriggle out of a lecture but genuinely wanting to reassure her, was enough to make her anger dissipate. He took her hands, tentatively, and already she felt terribly guilty for putting that hesitation there.

"I will always come home to you, Tina. However far I travel. Can you trust that?"

"Yes," she sighed. "It was just horrible, hearing about it secondhand, and reading about it, and thinking of you going into that situation on your own…"

"I know, and I'm sorry I put you through that. I would have asked you if I could have. Can you forgive me?"

"Oh, alright, then. Since you ask so nicely." Her grumpiness was feigned, and they both knew it. The beginnings of a smile fluttered around Newt's lips.

"Can I have a hug, then? I really did miss you."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Tina gave in and hugged him, whispering in his ear,

"I missed you too, so much."

They stayed there, wrapped in each other's embrace, delighting in rediscovering how perfectly they fit together after circumstances so rudely separated them.

Next time, Tina would stay cross long enough to convince her mad husband to promise to be more sensible. She would.

Who was she kidding?

No, she wouldn't. The beginning of their relationship, with her first arresting him and then becoming his partner-in-crime, had set the tone for the ensuing years. She would start off angry, attempting to talk some sense into him and then without quite knowing how she would end up halfway across the world sneaking up on a dragon and loving it despite herself.

Ah well. There were worse problems in the world than being married to someone it was impossible to stay angry with. She'd just have to try to arrange things so she could make sure that she was there as backup next time. Gregory the Swooping Evil was all very well, but Tina Scamander defending her husband took 'ferocious' to a completely new level.

"How did the case go?" Newt asked once Tina had snuggled herself into their settee, supplied with some strong coffee and a bar of chocolate.

"Difficult to crack, exhausting, but I did it. Enough evidence to convict a prominent member of the Wizengamot. There'll be a scandal in the Prophet tomorrow."

"My wife, at the centre of another scandal," Newt teased, the pride unmistakeable in his expression. Tina, impressively, kept a straight face, though her eyes sparkled.

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She sipped her coffee primly. "So, adopt anyone on that trip to Norway you definitely shouldn't have done without me?"

"Yes, actually," Newt began with the smaller news. "I've rehomed most of their captives, there are still three jarveys to go up to the reserve in Yorkshire though."

"Oh, please can I watch you when you catch them, that's just the sort of thing I need after a case like this."

"I still don't see what's so surprising about the fact that I know swearwords stronger than 'bugger', but if it makes you happy, anything. But that's not the biggest news."

"Well, go on then."

"I've got one new friend staying permanently, and he really is one of a kind. An entirely new species."

"Mercy Lewis!"

"…Tina, don't make that face. He's a sweetheart, it's fine."

"I've heard that before, and I repeat, Mercy Lewis, holy hell and Merlin's beard. Please tell me you've checked for hidden fire glands this time. Everywhere."

"Well…not exactly, but if he's got fire glands he's hiding them well. Anyway, the mutation that led to the Samoan Double-Ended Fire Lobster was extremely rare, it's highly unlikely we'll see that again."

"You're not exactly reassuring me here. You said they were sweethearts as well before they started levitating on clouds of fire and nearly burnt off our feet!"

"You're never going to let me forget that one, are you? Anyway, this is different. He's a Being, a magical humanoid."

Tina's expression instantly changed to one of pained concern.

"You don't need to lie to me, Newt."

"What? I'm not lying, I would never…"

"No, you wouldn't, but you would evade. And you are evading. Maybe he's got some kind of features you've never seen before, you're classing him as his own sub-species: but if you're honest, if you're honest with yourself, he's a werewolf, isn't he?"

"Tina, this isn't about the Registry. I keep telling you, I've dealt with that."

"No, you haven't. And it's okay that you haven't. You have a right to your anger, and though it wasn't your fault your guilt is understandable too. But you won't talk about it, you put it off every time I ask, and you throw yourself into doing everything possible for every werewolf you can find with no thought to how much it takes out of you-"

"It's only fair that I help them, seeing that I've caused them so much suffering-"

"There it is! I know you think I'm nagging about this, but it's not that I have a problem with you helping werewolves. I'm just worried about you, that's all. You can't keep carrying this guilt around, letting it drive you until you're burned out, or it's going to destroy you. And I won't let that happen!"

This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. Tina was, as usual, annoyingly correct. Newt had written the legislation creating the Werewolf Registry of 1947 to deal with the rogue Grindelwald loyalist werewolves left behind after the war, but his assigned team had been fractious and prejudiced. He'd compromised on many issues, but at the end of an incredibly stressful few months, he had produced a fair law that allowed the government reasonable monitoring of the werewolf population in an emergency situation whilst allowing peaceful werewolves as much privacy and dignity as possible.

It was after that that things had gone south. He'd assumed that, since he'd been the person to propose the law, he would, naturally, go on to head the task force charged with implementing it. However, the Ministry had insisted on interviewing for the position, and then selected Newt's main rival in the original team instead of him. Incredibly intolerant towards the entire lycanthrope community after losing his sister in a werewolf attack, Delius Ferlow had originally advocated, among other things, for a clause allowing the Ministry to arrest any werewolf on essentially no grounds whatsoever. Newt had managed to prevent its inclusion in the final draft, but over the following two years he could do nothing but watch in horror as all the loopholes in the law he'd worked so hard on were exploited in order to make life a living hell for people who didn't deserve it.

He'd attempted to make it right as far as possible. All the werewolves who knew him and Tina personally were aware of the situation and were far more forgiving than Newt felt he deserved. But it was hard for him to locate other struggling werewolves in order to offer his help, given that they had no interest in revealing themselves to the man who'd written the persecutory law. His most recent project revolved around providing a secret, warded forest for a few friends to transform in safety. Each morning after, as he cared for their wounds, felt like a drop in the ocean of his penance.

The guilt was like a horrible lead mass in his gut, weighing him down, and he hated speaking of it, acknowledging it, trying to face it. He'd rather be doing, trying to rectify his wrongs, even though he knew deep down it would never be enough. So every attempt Tina had made to get him to open up had been diverted, procrastinated, or refused, and this time would have been no different, except…

Except for the past few days, Newt had felt like he was talking to a brick wall, attempting to get Maglor to understand that whatever horrors lurked in his past, he was absolutely worthy of care and rest and affection and everything else. For the first time, he saw things from Tina's perspective, and realised how frustrating it must have been for her to try to get through to him. You can't keep carrying this guilt around…or it's going to destroy you. She'd made similar statements before, but only now did Newt truly understand how painful caring for someone with a guilt-ravaged soul could be. And he realised that even if he didn't believe what he'd done to an already marginalised community could be forgiven, he couldn't inflict that on his wife. He licked his lips nervously and replied,

"You're right, Tina." He ignored her look of shock and continued. "You've been trying to help me and I've been a stubborn idiot. I really don't want to talk about it, because you'll try to convince me to justify it and I don't think I deserve that, but this time, I promise to be honest when we discuss it. You're right. I can't carry this for ever."

"You actually mean it this time, don't you?" Tina observed in amazement. Newt nodded.

"What changed?" she asked.

"Maglor," Newt answered. "Our newest guest. And actually, for once, I wasn't evading and he's not anything like a werewolf. He's an Elda, he tells me, and he's the last of his kind. There was some kind of catastrophe that killed his people, he was involved somehow, not deliberately I believe, and he's got this notion that he has to punish himself because of it. So I suppose what I'm saying is, I know how you feel now. And he's shown me that no-one can let their guilt be their master forever- or at least, that it's unwise to attempt it."

Tina took a few moments to process this before saying, deadly seriously,

"Where is this 'Maglor'? I think I want to hug him."

Newt chuckled.

"In the suitcase, I've built him his own place there, and you can try, but it took me a while before he let me do that, and I've only managed it once. Perhaps you'll have more luck with him though, you're always so amazing with trauma survivors, I think your skills might be more useful than mine here. I know you've just come off a job though, I don't mind if you want to rest first."

Tina raised one eyebrow, hefting herself into a more upright position on the settee. "Do you even know me at all, dear husband? Tell me everything. "

A/N (i.e. my random spiel on this chapter):

The house-elves link. Does it work? I was going to just have them completely separate species in the original plan, but I found this idea intriguing. Commenter Cyraina-de-Bergerac on A03 (thanks, btw!) got me thinking about it again, and then I remembered that Tolkien implied the elves who didn't sail to Valinor would either fade or become 'diminished', 'a rustic folk of dell and cave,' i.e. the faerie of folklore; then Rowling used the faerie lore about brownies to inspire her house-elves, so there's something of a literary thread we can follow through it all. Hilpy's account of the past is certainly written as 'a complex weaving of history and fantasy', as Newt calls it, so the exact nature of what happened is left to your imaginations.

It's canon that Newt created the Werewolf Registry of 1947, and that things were very difficult for werewolves by Lupin's time, but we don't know exactly how closely those things are linked. I certainly don't think Newt intended it as a punitive law, given how sensitive he is to misunderstood and potentially dangerous creatures and people in the films so far, so this is my headcanon about how it all played out.