AN: Obviously, it's a little complicated writing about the Scamanders when the Fantastic Beasts film series is so incomplete, but hopefully the stuff I've made up works okay :)
Tuesday 24 December, 1991:
It had been eleven years since Lena had sat down for a proper family dinner for Christmas Eve. Of course, that was a loose definition of 'proper family dinner'. Yes, most of her family from both the Lestrange and Black sides had been there, and there had been lots of delicious food – and then somebody had made a comment about Lena beginning to look more like her mother, which had started an argument which ended with Bellatrix trying to curse her daughter, and Lena magically throwing a still burning Christmas pudding at her mother's face.
Just an everyday, run-of-the-mill, Lestrange family gathering.
But this evening, sitting at the dinner table with Skelton, Rolf, his parents and grandparents, Lena was seeing for the first time what a normal, happy family at Christmas was like.
Rolf's mother, who insisted that Lena and Skelton call her by her first name, Delilah, had been working in the kitchen since two o'clock in the afternoon to prepare the magnificent feast that lay before them now – turkey, ham, roast potatoes, pumpkin, corn, peas, sprouts, bread rolls, and cranberry sauce filled every inch of the table, barely leaving enough room for their plates. It all tasted very nearly as good as the house-elf prepared food at Hogwarts.
The last three days at the elder Scamanders' house had been mostly spent putting up decorations and the Christmas tree – something neither Lena nor Skelton had done before. Mortimer had also helped, delighted by the novelty of a tree that was inside. The little Bowtruckle was also enamoured by Newt, who appeared to feel the same about the little green creature.
"I used to have a little friend like him about sixty or more years ago," Newt had told Lena, fondly watching Mortimer put the star on the top of the tree. "His name was Pickett. Helped me out of a lot of tight spots. But Merlin's beard, could he be a cheeky little fellow!"
Lena had smiled at the old man. "Mortimer's much the same." She'd heard a small noise from the top of the tree, and they had both looked up to see Mortimer proudly standing next to the perfectly-placed star. "Looks great, Mortimer," she had told him, grinning up at the Bowtruckle.
"Couldn't have done better myself," Newt had said, and Mortimer had been almost glowing with delight.
Now, as they ate, Mortimer sat by Lena's plate, munching on some fairy eggs Newt had bought him. Lena was tucking into the delicious roast potatoes.
"So, Maggie," Delilah was saying, "Rolf was telling me Herbology is one of your favourite subjects."
Skelton swallowed her mouthful of food. "Erm, yeah," she answered awkwardly. "It's pretty good."
Lena hid a smile. Years of meeting Aunt Valeriya's clients had taught her how to put on a charming demeanour, especially in a potentially uncomfortable situation. Skelton, however, had never learnt this ability; in fact, charm was not something that ever easily came to Skelton. And she was so unused to people taking an interest in her – and being nice to her – like the Scamanders were, that every interaction she was having with them was coming off as awkward and stiff.
"What about Herbology particularly appeals to you?" asked Delilah.
Skelton shrugged. "Um, I don't know. I mean, I guess I just like... plants," she finished lamely.
Delilah smiled at her politely.
Lena refrained from banging her head on the table like she wanted to, and decided to help out Skelton. "I guess growing up in the middle of a city, you didn't get a lot of opportunity to see plant-life like we do at Hogwarts," she said pointedly at Skelton, hoping she'd take the hint.
"Right, yeah," said Skelton, giving Lena a grateful look. "Most of the plants I saw when I was growing up were, well, small and stunted. They didn't get a chance to flourish. And everything was so grey. I guess going into the greenhouses at Hogwarts just shows a side of the world I never got to know when I was younger," she told Delilah, more confident in what she was saying.
Delilah seemed to like this answer, and gave Skelton a more genuine smile than the one before.
Tina, Rolf's grandmother, was the next to speak. "Rolf said that you both do Care of Magical Creatures like him, but what are your other electives?" Her American accent stood out among all the other English dialects.
"Well, we both do Ancient Runes," answered Skelton, evidently more comfortable talking to the Scamanders now. "But Lena also does Arithmancy."
"Oh, that sounds like a heavy workload," said Delilah to Lena.
Before Lena could respond, Rolf jumped in. "Heavy for anyone else," he said, grinning. "But Lena just breezes through it. She'll get Outstanding on all her OWLs, I bet."
"Are you hoping to go into a career that needs lots of NEWTs?" inquired Delilah.
"Not necessarily," said Lena carefully. "I'd just prefer to leave as many options open as possible. Anyway, it's more that I just like learning about as many different branches of magic as I can."
She looked across the table to see that Rolf's father was watching her with an unreadable expression.
Elijah Scamander had not shown any outward display of distaste for Lena, but she was perceptive enough to know that he – like most people she met – was wary of her. She suspected that Delilah and Tina were too, but they covered it up by being extraordinarily nice to her, asking her questions and smiling at her. Elijah stayed distant, observing rather than interacting.
Rolf had told her the career-ending injury his father had suffered during the War was from a curse that the healers at St. Mungo's hadn't been able to identify. The only thing Elijah could tell them was that it had been performed with a slashing movement, and the wand had emitted a purple flame.
Lena had a very firm suspicion that the Death Eater who had injured Elijah was her great uncle, Antonin Dolohov. But she had no intention of telling any of the Scamanders that.
"Well," said Delilah, "it's always nice to know that there are young people who take their education seriously. But it's also good to have a general idea of what you want to do after school. After all, you'll all be sixteen soon, and then it's only one year until you're of age."
"Actually," said Lena, "I turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago."
There was a loud noise as Rolf dropped his fork onto his plate. "What?" he yelped. "You had your birthday? I thought it was during the summer holidays!"
Lena looked at Rolf, amused. "Why on Earth would you think that?"
"You never told me when it was when I asked you, so I assumed it must be during the holidays when you're not with us," he said defensively.
The rest of the Scamanders were obviously struggling to hide their surprise that Rolf didn't know when his friend's birthday was, while Skelton looked more surprised that Lena had actually admitted that she'd had a birthday.
"Well, it's not," said Lena, nonchalant. She turned back to Delilah. "And I agree, it's a good idea to know what sort of area you might be interested in for a job after school. I think I'll probably want to do something involving magical artefacts."
Newt, who had been listening to the conversation with interest, finally spoke. "What is it that interests you in that particular area?"
Lena chewed her food thoughtfully. "I suppose," she said after swallowing, "I've always had an interest in magic that isn't just tied to one person – magic that's been left ingrained in an object, and that can last for centuries. Like..." She paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "Like magic that's a separate entity from the wizard or witch that wields it, if that makes sense."
Newt nodded, smiling at her. "You're interested in the nature of magic itself."
Lena smiled back. "Exactly. And my great aunt works with magical artefacts, so I already have some contacts in the business through her."
Elijah also finally joined the conversation, looking at Lena intently. "And by business, you mean the private sector, I take it?"
Lena met his gaze. "Yes. I'm afraid I can't see myself working for, or with, the Ministry."
There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds, before Delilah hurriedly broke it.
"So, Newt told me you lived abroad before you came to Hogwarts; where were you living?" she asked Lena.
"Switzerland. But I travelled a lot, mostly around Europe but a few places in Asia and Africa too."
"With your great aunt? She was the one who raised you?" inquired Tina.
"Actually, my grandmother was my guardian at that time," explained Lena. "But I... spent a lot of time with my great aunt." She added, "When I moved back to England, my great aunt took custody of me. My grandmother remained abroad."
She noticed that Skelton gave her an odd look when she said this, but before she could dwell on it, Tina and Newt, who had extensively travelled around the world, were asking her about which were her favourite places she had visited.
As the conversation gradually moved to tales of Newt's adventures as a magizoologist, Lena felt strangely relaxed and... happy. It was an odd sensation, but she realised that she was enjoying herself, just sitting there having dinner with the Scamander family and Skelton.
But of course, something had to happen to spoil Lena's mood.
Finished eating, Skelton got up to put her plate away in the kitchen. She had only walked a couple of metres when one of Newt and Tina's pet kneazles, Milly, came out of nowhere and ran past directly in front of her. Cursing in shock, Skelton stumbled back and dropped her plate.
Lena, who was talking to Delilah about her work at the publishing company Obscurus Books, saw this all happen out of the corner of her eye, and instinctively raised her hand in Skelton's direction.
The plate, the cutlery, and the remnants of Skelton's food froze in mid-air. The rest of the Scamanders turned around to see what had happened.
Delilah's eyes flicked back to Lena's outstretched hand, and she audibly gasped when she realised what Lena was doing. Tina was staring at her in shock, and Elijah had suddenly gripped the table. His eyes narrowed at her in suspicion. Newt simply looked curious, while Rolf watched the rest of his family nervously. Obviously, he hadn't told them about Lena's wandless magic.
Lena, attempting to ignore everyone's stares, focused on the plate, cutlery, and food scraps. She twisted her hand, and everything that had come off the plate floated back onto it. She let the plate hang steadily in the air in front of Skelton, who stared at it blankly for a moment, before gingerly reaching out and taking it.
The plate safely in Skelton's hands, Lena dropped her own hand. As Skelton continued into the kitchen, Lena's eyes quickly swept across the dinner table. The suspicion in Elijah's eyes was still there, and when she made brief eye contact with Delilah, Rolf's mother immediately looked away – and Lena knew it was in fear.
Her stomach twisted. She abruptly stood up. "Sorry, I need some air," she mumbled, not looking any of them in the face. She picked up Mortimer, who made a noise of concern. Ignoring him, she put him on her shoulder and left the dining room. Nobody said anything.
Newt and Tina's house was a reasonably large one-storey building, surrounded by a vast garden. They had no next-door neighbours, and the nearest village was nearly two miles away. So there was almost no sound at all as Lena sat on the steps of the backdoor, looking out into the frost-covered garden.
Lena didn't really notice the cold; she was too preoccupied with her thoughts. Mortimer, however, was not enjoying the winter air, and had curled himself up under Lena's jumper.
For as long as she could remember, Lena had always been something of an insomniac. While awake, she could control what was on her mind, and keep anything she didn't want to think about – or remember – locked away in the deep recesses of her mind. However, although her Occlumency shield protected her from any external intrusions when she slept, it could not protect her from herself.
Over the years, she had gotten better at dealing with it – most of the time, she simply woke herself up the moment her thoughts strayed somewhere she had no desire to go. Of course, this meant that most days she was getting by with only about three hours of sleep. About once or twice a month, she would simply pass out from exhaustion – luckily, this usually occurred in her dorm – and would sleep for anywhere between six to twelve hours, and her mind would be too exhausted to be plagued by unwelcome thoughts. She would then go back to her usual sleeping habits until she collapsed again.
Lena knew it was an incredibly unhealthy way to live, but she couldn't bring herself to ask anyone for help. She also knew there was a potion for Dreamless Sleep, but even so, that would only be a temporary solution, as potions like that were notorious for being extremely addictive, and dangerous in large quantities. So she just endured the insomnia, and it became her norm.
But that night she had looked into the Mirror of Erised, Lena had not slept at all. She'd known if she had let herself, she would immediately find herself back in her childhood bedroom with Lord Voldemort, on that last day she had seen him. And Lena couldn't let herself do that, not when she had spent so many years shoving that particular memory aside. She had finally let herself sleep that first night at Newt and Tina's home, but only for an hour, and the moment she'd woken up, she had ran to the bathroom and thrown up. It had been roughly the same story the following two nights.
And after what just happened in the dining room, Lena could not shake herself from thoughts of that final lesson. Moving multiple objects at the same time – exactly what she had done when Skelton dropped her plate.
It had been so difficult back then, she remembered. Not like now, when it was something instinctive. 'Because I practised,' thought Lena, as she ran her fingers through her hair and stared blankly out into the garden. 'Because I practised almost every day for the next year. So I could show him if he came back. When he came back. So I didn't disappoint him.'
He didn't come back. But Lena still practised.
Lena had been sitting out there alone in near silence for almost an hour when the sound of the back door opening startled her. She looked over her shoulder to see Newt.
At first, he didn't say anything. He just looked up at the stars which filled the sky. Lena turned back around.
The door shut, and a moment later, Newt sat down next to her on the steps. He was still looking up at the stars. Lena waited for him to speak.
"It's funny how history can repeat itself."
That was not what Lena had expected him to say. Surprised, she turned to Newt, who smiled back at her softly.
He looked back up at the stars again before turning to Lena. "When I was at Hogwarts, I had a friend named Leta Lestrange."
"I've never heard of her."
"She died some time ago," said Newt simply. "I'm afraid I am not exactly sure of the details of your family tree, but I think she would have been your great-great aunt."
He looked down at his feet as his hands fidgeted with his woollen jumper. Lena watched him, waiting for him to continue. She knew he was well into his nineties, but it would be easy to forget that if it wasn't for his white hair and very wrinkled face. He still had a nervous energy about him, a sort of spryness that reminded Lena of Dumbledore.
"She was very interested," Newt finally said, "in magical experimentation – pushing the boundaries, so to speak. Much like you, I suspect."
Lena inclined her head in acknowledgement.
"It was, in fact," Newt went on, "one of her experiments that was the reason behind my expulsion from Hogwarts."
Lena looked at him sharply. Rolf had told her that Newt hadn't finished his Hogwarts schooling, but she'd assumed it had been voluntarily.
Newt noticed her expression. "A story for another time," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "Suffice to say, there was no truly malicious intent behind the experiment. But Leta's curiosity and ambition blinded her to the dangers of her... pursuits."
"And what, you're afraid I might do something similar?" demanded Lena.
"Are you?" he asked quietly, meeting her gaze for the first time.
Lena stared back for a few moments, before looking back out to the garden. "Not really," she answered truthfully. "Not anymore." She turned back to Newt, and explained, "I've gone down that road before, you see. The road of ambition – ambition beyond my capabilities. Arrogance. And at the end of that road was death." The image of Hecate's Orb flashed in her mind for a second. "I was dragged back from it at the last moment, but I got close enough to understand the importance of accepting my own limitations from then on." She shrugged. "It's not always easy – actually, it's almost never easy. I want to push those boundaries. But now, I think I know when to stop." She gave Newt a small smile. "So you can rest assured, Rolf is safe from me."
Newt opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. Eventually, he said, "I'm glad that you care about Rolf's wellbeing. But it was your own that I came out here to speak to you about."
Lena's smile vanished, and before she could stop herself, she snapped at Newt, "Don't."
Newt looked taken aback by her sudden change in demeanour. "Sorry?"
Lena took a deep breath, and attempted to fix an emotionless mask on her face. "I mean you don't need to worry about me," she said flatly. "I'm fine."
Newt's face softened. "I've spent the better part of seventy years working with magical creatures, Lena. And in that time, I've become quite adept at detecting some of the behaviour patterns that humans can share. Behaviour patterns like acting aggressively towards others to hide pain because they're afraid the others will take it as a sign of weakness." He paused. "Of course, in regards to humans, that pain is usually emotional rather than physical." His tone became very gentle, as though trying to calm down a panicked animal. "It's not weakness, that sort of pain – it's human."
"Human, is it?" replied Lena quietly. "Well, you'll have to tell me, Mr Scamander, if it's something more than just the name of a species – what is human? Because from what I've seen, humanity has a greater capability for cruelty than any other kind of beast. Hate, greed, intolerance – aren't they principally human traits? What's so great about being human, then? Why should I care that it's okay to hurt just because it's human?"
As Lena finished speaking, she realised she was shaking. Evidently, this had woken Mortimer, who climbed out of her jumper, and looked up worriedly at Lena.
"It's imperfect."
Lena looked up at Newt, who was watching her oddly. "What?"
"Humanity," clarified Newt. "It's imperfect. We're imperfect." He sighed. "And complex – very, very complex." He looked up at the sky once again, before turning back to Lena. "But perhaps the best person to answer your questions about human nature would be a werewolf."
This completely threw Lena. "What?"
Newt smiled at her. "Sounds strange at first, doesn't it? Let me explain. Back in 1947, I worked with the Ministry to create something called the Werewolf Register – a list of all known werewolves in Great Britain. It's not available to the public, only to the section of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that control and maintain the registry. Naturally, that work led me into contact with quite a few werewolves. And from what I could tell, there were two different ways lycanthropy affected the nature of a person."
He paused, clearly trying to think of the best way to word what he was about to say. Lena waited, intrigued.
"You see," explained Newt, "when the full moon forces the transformation of a werewolf from man to beast, it becomes a monster." He smiled wryly. "And believe me, I don't use the word 'monster' lightly when describing non-human creatures. But that's what the werewolf is during the full moon. It loses all sense of reason, mercy, and self-identity. It is remorseless. It has a very singular purpose: to find humans, and attack them. Sometimes the attack is about creating more like them, other times it is simply to kill – but either way, they are compelled to attack. And that is the true curse of lycanthropy, Lena: it takes away the freedom to choose how to behave. Choice is, perhaps, one of the most human traits we have. And when the werewolf is back in its human form, it is presented with another choice. For although the human side loses control during the full moon, it remembers everything the monster does. Now, do you think you can guess what the choice is?"
Lena began twisting her hair around her fingers, carefully considering what Newt had said. "So, a werewolf," she began slowly, "is in the unique position of being a human who knows – and experiences – what it's like to not be human, in a way that even an animagus couldn't comprehend." She looked at Newt for confirmation. He nodded, and indicated for her to continue. "And they realise that..." She hesitated, trying to figure out exactly what she meant. "They realise that the two things don't have to be mutually exclusive – you can be that monster even when there's no full moon. But also... well, it's like the whole concept of 'you never really miss something until it's gone', right? You wouldn't really appreciate your humanity until it's gone."
Newt nodded again. "One of the werewolves I spoke to back then called it the 'embrace or reject' moment. Once they've had their first experience of the loss of their human nature, do they embrace the monster within, or do they reject it when they're in control, and cling to their humanity all the tighter now that it can slip away more easily?"
Lena cocked her head. "So, what, lycanthropy can make you either a better person or a worse one?"
Newt shook his head. "I don't think so. What it does, I would suggest, is reveal what sort of person you truly are, in a way that very few situations in life could ever match."
Lena mulled all this over in her head. A thought occurred to her. "But there's the Wolfsbane Potion now, isn't there? That's supposed to help werewolves retain their human mental faculties, right?"
Newt looked away from Lena, frowning. "Yes, that's its purpose," he said, sounding unconvinced.
Lena raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound very positive about it," she remarked.
Sighing, Newt turned back to her. "I'm not an expert on the intricacies of the Wolfsbane Potion," he began. "But from what I understand, it does not remove the monstrous nature of the transformed werewolf – rather, it suppresses it."
"And you see that as problematic?"
Newt grimaced. "The repression of the true nature of anything is always very dangerous, especially the longer it happens."
Now Lena understood his concerns. "And because it's a relatively new potion, we don't know what the long-term effects on the consumer could be. That's what worries you about it."
"Yes," agreed Newt. "All that aggression has to go somewhere..."
Lena remained silent. The talk of repressing parts of yourself for a long time was striking a little too close to home for her liking.
"In any case," said Newt, prompting Lena out of her introspection, "I hope you don't give up hope in humanity, Lena. And if most of what you've seen so far in your life is not confidence-inspiring, perhaps think about looking in different places, at different sorts of people." He paused, before gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Lena tensed, but didn't shake it off. "Human connections are always a good place to start," he told her.
Lena nodded slowly. She looked down at Mortimer and gave him a small smile. The Bowtruckle, who had been sitting on her lap as he watched Lena and Newt converse, seemed satisfied that Lena's agitation had disappeared, and crawled back under her jumper, tired of the cold.
"It was very impressive," said Newt suddenly. "Your display of wandless magic, at the end of dinner."
"Thank you," said Lena quietly, not looking up at him.
"At what point do you need to use your wand?"
At this, Lena turned to him, surprised. "You mean, what's the extent of my wandless magic?"
Newt chuckled at her expression. "Do you not often get asked that? I would have thought most people would be interested to know."
Lena snorted. "Most people are too shocked by the fact that I can do any wandless magic to ask how much I can do." She thought for a moment. "I can move objects around," she explained. "Lots, simultaneously. I'm pretty accurate too." Seeing Newt's curious expression, which lacked the fear and apprehension she was used to, an idea came to her. "For instance..."
Lena held her hands out in front of her, and then made a gesture as though she was gathering things up. Throughout the garden, the last of the fallen leaves rose up from the ground. Lena began making circular motions with her hand. The leaves began to float around. Lena made another hand gesture, and the leaves came together, forming the shape of a woman, who waved at Newt. He laughed softly, and waved back. Smiling slightly, Lena let go of her control of the leaves, and the leaves gently floated back to the ground.
"Remarkable," murmured Newt, watching the leaves.
"I can unlock doors," continued Lena, in a quiet voice. "Light fires. It's small things, mainly. Anything more complicated, like Transfiguration, I need my wand." She hesitated, then pulled her wand out of her sleeve, where she usually kept it when she didn't have big enough pockets.
Newt looked at it for a moment, before asking, almost shyly, "May I?"
Had it been anyone else, Lena would have been incredulous at the nerve of such a request. But Newt, she was coming to realise, was different. She passed her wand to him.
He held it up to the light that was coming from out of the house. "Ebony?"
Lena inclined her head.
"And the core?"
"Rougarou hair."
Newt's head jerked towards her in surprise. "I didn't know Ollivander used rougarou hair."
"He doesn't. I got my wand from a Romanian wandmaker. He prefers to keep his business out of the public eye," she said delicately, "so you probably wouldn't have heard of him."
"I see. So you got it when you lived abroad."
As he gave the wand back to Lena, she smiled at it fondly. "Yes." A realisation struck. "Actually, it's exactly nine years to the day since I got it."
"Nine years?" inquired Newt, looking confused. "But you would have only been–"
"Seven, yes," admitted Lena. "Well, I was something of an early bloomer..."
24 December, 1982:
"A Christmas present?" a seven year-old Lena asked Aunt Valeriya.
"Yes," replied Aunt Valeriya, as they turned a corner into an alleyway. "I trust you've received one before?"
"Not any good ones," muttered Lena, before telling herself that wasn't strictly true. Lord Voldemort had given her a very interesting book about Legilimency and Occlumency for Christmas when she was five.
"Well, today's your lucky day," Aunt Valeriya told her. "Now, come on, we're here."
What exactly 'here' was, Lena didn't know. All she knew was when she'd gone downstairs after waking up that morning, Aunt Valeriya had been in the kitchen, and had told her to eat breakfast quickly and then get ready, because they would be leaving in half an hour. Then they had been at Lustenberger's, and taken a Portkey to Bucharest, Romania. And now Aunt Valeriya was going to buy her a Christmas present. It was something of a whirlwind day.
Having reached their destination, Aunt Valeriya took her wand out of her pocket, and traced a rune Lena didn't recognise on the wooden door in front of them. The rune glowed a bright orange for a second before fading. Apparently this was meant to happen, as Aunt Valeriya put her wand away and opened the door, ushering Lena in behind her.
Lena looked around the room curiously. The only light came from an ancient-looking and elaborately designed chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling. There were several aged but well-maintained armchairs on one side of the room, and a counter with a door behind it on the other. Aunt Valeriya walked straight up to this counter, and rang a little bell that sat upon it. A few moments later, the door opened and a man walked out.
"Ms Dolohov," he said quietly, but not unwelcomingly. "It's always a pleasure."
"Likewise, Sârbu," Aunt Valeriya greeted him in the same tone, and they shook hands. "Now, let me introduce you to my niece."
She gestured for Lena to come to the counter, as the man came out from behind it.
"This is Lena Lestrange," said Aunt Valeriya as Lena joined her. "Lena, this is Sârbu."
The man, Sârbu, extended his hand. "Hello."
"Hi," said Lena, taking the offered hand and shaking it. She guessed Sârbu was in his mid-thirties, although she couldn't be sure. He had an accent she didn't recognise, but she assumed it was Romanian. Even though Lena was only seven, she noticed he was quite an attractive man, slightly taller than average and slim, with shaggy brown hair, stubble, and very blue eyes. She briefly wondered if she'd been staring at him too long, but then she realised he was looking at her quite interestedly, and decided she hadn't come across as overly weird.
"Sârbu is," said Aunt Valeriya, "among other things, a wandmaker. He's going to help you find your Christmas present."
Lena was confused."My... wait, you're buying me a wand? But I'm not eleven for another four years!"
Aunt Valeriya snorted. "If the children at Mahoutokoro," she said dismissively, naming the Japanese Wizarding school, "start their proper magical training when they're seven, you can too."
Lena's shock turned to delight. "You're going to start teaching me to use a wand now?" she said excitedly.
There was a flicker of a smile on Aunt Valeriya's face, which she quickly hid. "Well, I don't see any point in waiting until you start Durmstrang or Hogwarts, or wherever you end up going. Now, Sârbu's going to take you through," she indicated to the door he'd come through, "and you'll choose a wand. Or it'll choose you. However it works."
If Lena was a more ordinary child, she probably would have hugged Aunt Valeriya. As it were, the thought didn't occur to her, but she did give her great aunt her most genuine smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Lena. Quickly now, I haven't got all day."
Sârbu led Lena behind the counter and through the door into what she supposed was his workshop. There were about a hundred wands in their rectangular boxes, as well as some other objects, which when Lena looked closely, confirmed her suspicion that the 'other things' Aunt Valeriya had referred to Sârbu doing were probably not exactly legal. However, a year of travelling with Aunt Valeriya had made Lena immune to any shock at criminal pursuits.
For the next twenty minutes, Lena tried wand after wand, but none of them felt right. Instead, they all felt like they were trying to stifle the magic she already knew how to wield.
Then Sârbu had an idea.
"I recently came into possession of some rougarou hair," he told Lena as he led her to a workbench in the far corner of the workshop. "It's an American creature," he explained, seeing Lena's look of confusion, "that has a humanoid body, but the head of a dog. Very rare."
He gestured down at the worktable, and Lena stood on her tiptoes to see what was on it. There were three roughly- made wands: one of a reddish wood, one of a black, and one of light brown.
"I still have to put the finishing touches on these," said Sârbu. He pointed at the first wand. "Mahogany." He pointed to the second. "Ebony, and–" he pointed to the last, "–elm." He smiled at Lena. "Now, which one would you choose?"
Lena immediately placed her hand over the ebony wand, and Sârbu chuckled. "Like the colour, do you?" he asked.
Lena blushed slightly in reply.
"Ebony does look impressive," he acknowledged. "But let's see if you can make it be impressive."
Taking a deep breath in, Lena picked up the black wand, and instantly decided she had made the right choice. Instead of the clashing sensation she'd experienced holding the other wands, she felt the connection between her own magic and the wand's immediately form.
It was an incredible feeling. She smiled, and flicked the wand. Gold sparks burst out, and showered down on her and Sârbu.
The wandmaker grinned back at her. "Looks like it was the right choice."
Lena tilted her head, remembering what her aunt had said before. "But who made it?" she questioned him. "Me, or the wand?"
Sârbu mirrored her, cocking his head. "I imagine it was a mutual decision." He smiled wryly. "Somehow, I don't think either of you would be happy if you didn't get a say."
Lena blushed again. Sârbu seemed to understand her strangely well for someone who had only just met her.
He held his hand out. "I'll just put the finishing touches on it. And perhaps you could have some design input, if you like?"
Unable to conceal her happy smile, Lena gave the wand back to him. "I'd like that very much."
"I've never seen a rougarou," said Newt ruefully, looking at the wand as Lena absentmindedly twirled it in her fingers.
"Really?" said Lena. "There can't be many magical beasts you haven't seen."
"More than I would like," sighed Newt, sounding wistful.
Lena looked at the wand in her hands. It was entirely black, with the exception of the small piece of bone inserted into the end of where it was held. Inscribed into the bone were the initials L.L., in beautiful calligraphy. The slender wand was completely smooth except for the grooves carved into it that created a handle and hilt of sorts. It was exactly eleven inches long, and quite springy.
And over time, it also had definitively answered Sârbu's question from nine years ago: yes, in Lena's hands, it could be a very impressive wand.
"I think," said Newt, snapping Lena out of her reverie, "that you might have had enough time to get that fresh air you needed."
Her conversation with Newt and the memory of first receiving her wand had made Lena forget her original reason for coming outside. Remembering the incident in the dining room, Lena cringed.
Newt saw this. "You shouldn't worry about everyone's reactions back there," he said firmly. "It was a bit of a shock to us all – well, except Rolf and Maggie. They already knew about your abilities, I suppose?"
Lena nodded.
"I thought so, they didn't seem quite surprised enough." Newt paused. "Your parents had a reputation for being very powerful wizards, Lena," he continued quietly. "It's natural that people will be wary of your extraordinary magical ability."
Despite the mention of her parents, Lena couldn't hold back a snort. "Believe me, I didn't learn wandless magic from my parents – any 'abilities' I possess are not because of them."
"Either way–"
"I know," interrupted Lena flatly. "You don't need to explain public perception to me, I've become very familiar with it over the years. I'm used to getting those sorts of looks. It was just..." She hesitated, and was unable to keep the regret out of her voice when she went on, "I was having such a lovely time tonight. It was so... nice."
Newt stood up, and smiled down at her. "Well, I'm glad to hear you enjoyed Christmas Eve. Now, come inside, get yourself to bed, and when you wake up tomorrow, let's make sure you have a good Christmas too."
Lena gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir." She pulled a sleepy Mortimer out of her jumper and stood up. Newt opened the door, and Lena made to go through it. However, she paused on the threshold. "Newt?"
"Yes?"
"For whatever it's worth – I'd quite like to be human, if being human means being like you."
Newt laughed softly. "You don't need to be like me, Lena. You just don't need to be so afraid of being you."
Lena slept better that night than usual – she got almost four hours of solid sleep. It meant she was more energised than normal, which was good because she didn't know if she could have dealt with Rolf's palpable excitement otherwise.
Before breakfast, they all sat around the Christmas tree exchanging gifts. Rolf passed one to Lena, who looked at the tag. It was from Skelton. Lena looked at the present curiously – this Christmas was the first time she and Skelton had ever exchanged gifts. She saw that Skelton, who was sitting a couple of metres away from her, was watching her. Meeting her gaze, Skelton awkwardly shrugged at Lena, as if to say, 'Yeah, apparently we're doing this giving-presents-to-each-other-thing now. Weird, huh?'
Lena undid the wrapping to find a white box. She opened it. Inside were a batch of white chocolate and macadamia biscuits that she instantly recognised as ones baked by the Hogwarts house-elves – her very favourites. She looked back up at Skelton, and remembered what Newt had said the previous night: "Human connections are always a good place to start."
"I wasn't sure what would be useful to you, and I know that the house-elves always make you those when they make lunch for us–"
"Thank you, Maggie."
There was a long pause. Out of the corner of her eye, Lena could see Rolf watching them, fascinated.
Hesitantly, Maggie smiled back at her. "You're welcome, Lena."