It had been a while since Leta had seen such luxury if she was to be entirely frank.
It did not become anyone to stare wide-mouthed like a commoner seeing a rich man's home for the first time - however, the change in scenery was more than welcome, after months and months of the same old Ministry offices and living in the same cupboard-sized apartment.
"Where are we?" Leta breathed, still taken aback.
"At a good friend of mine's," Newt replied. "Off we go!" he whistled cheerily.
Newt's friend, whoever they happened to be, lived in a very large Tudor mansion.
Not any Tudor mansion, though. This one had exquisitely detailed, beautiful timbering and a well-manicured, emerald green lawn. Around roamed various doves, nightingales and bluebirds, flying to and fro with confident familiarity. Out on the lawn also stood a white, unique gazebo shaped not unlike a birdcage, with a comfortable swinging bench where a perch might be. In the reflecting pool, various albino peacocks watched and preened themselves, and jaunty yellow narcissus flowers swayed in the wind.
In addition to this beautiful scenery, there was also a small stone pigpen. In it, various hogs snorted, rolled around, and laid contentedly in the warm sun, generally enjoying themselves in the cool mud. In a way, the pigpen sort of ruined the quiet elegance of the mansion, but to Leta it made good enough sense. It was the contrast to the tidy, cream-colored exterior, the plain and sensibly grounded side that even the most frivolous must learn to cultivate. Something about its stalwart plainness was comforting to her.
"Do you like it?" Newt asked excitedly.
Leta's breath left her chest for a moment as she gazed, admiring the beautiful scene in front of her. Then something dawned upon her.
"No ordinary wizard could afford a place like this," she breathed. "This must be..." Her heart dropped.
"This is a Pureblood's home, isn't it?"
That's it, the dark voice in the corner of her mind whispered. He's brought you here, to corner you with all your enemies...You should've known! There's no way he'd be this nice to you after what happened. It's a TRAP!
"Newt!" A voice roared boisterously. "Well, about time! I've half a mind to uninvite you from Clara's wedding!"
Leta froze, then slowly turned to face them, expecting to see one of the Blacks of even Carrows. Instead, she was faced with a strict-faced, tall, ginger-haired man.
"Good to see you too, Jedd," Newt grinned, reaching out a hand.
Leta looked down at his robes, expecting velveteen and false brocade. He appeared to be wearing robes made of some luxurious-looking silk, and a vest sculpted out of some greyish-purple, leathery material she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Don't you try to butter me up Newt," the man retorted. "Jedediah Weasley, at your service," he said tersely. "Or, I suppose, I'm the one requesting your services?"
Leta swallowed.
"Leta," she held out her hand, wincing internally as she prepared herself for disaster.
Nothing happened. Newt did not react, and neither did Jedediah Weasley.
"Unfortunately I'm quite shite with names, so you'll have to excuse me," he replied, giving her hand a quick, firm downwards shake. The handshake of a man used to dealing with all business and no pleasure. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get started on those mad pests. Off we go!"
With that, he turned briskly and began making his way towards the entranceway. Leta found that she had to jog slightly in order to keep up with him, both on account of his fast pace and much taller legs.
"So, Mr. Weasley," Leta cleared her throat, "What seems to be the problem?"
"Well," Jedediah Weasley grunted, "I've found myself in a bit of a pickle, so one might say. My fiancee loves birds, simply adores them. Loves to listen to them chatter all day, so I had an acquaintance sold me what he claimed to be a rare exotic African bird...but it simply won't sing, no matter how much I try to coax it."
"That's odd," Leta replied.
What exactly are we here for, though? She thought, somewhat disgruntled. Surely a smart, rich man like him wouldn't have need of an Auror to handle such a simple case. Unless...well, he does seem like the type to invest in only the best of the best. Plus, Newt is his mate, doing him a favor.
She took a deep breath and tried her best not to let her insecurity to get to her.
Someday, they're going to entrust you with a good job, she promised herself. No more gophering and no more minion work.
As they stood at the entrance, Jedediah coughed lightly and pushed on the handsome glass-paneled mahogany door, muttering some sort of password. He then motioned Newt and Leta to come on in. As Leta walked up the porch steps, she looked down and noticed the welcome mat.
THE AVIARY, it said, in a welcoming font. It also looked slightly homemade, as if someone had crocheted it. Must be his fiancee's handiwork, Leta thought to herself.
Immediately, the first detail she noticed was the polished, unscathed cherry wood flooring. Leta felt bad and immediately looked to see if there was some sort of shoe rack.
"You needn't worry," Jedediah muttered. "I wouldn't have installed fancy flooring if I didn't have charms to protect it. Come, follow me," he turned around a corner, passing a large hand-painted framed portrait of himself. Leta blushed and followed behind as quickly as she could, marveling at the coffered ceilings and fresh plants hanging in beautiful, bold-colored ceramic pots. Some of the flowers were just as vibrantly-colored as the pots, though some looked rather plain and almost dead.
"Night-blooming cereus!" Newt exclaimed excitedly, pointing at a rather plain leafy plant with no buds. "This one only flowers once a year!"
"Indeed," Jedediah stopped briefly, turning around to face them. "You're familiar with it?"
"Only because my mother used to own one," Newt replied, screwing his face tightly and squinting at the pile of leaves as if trying to picture what it might look like in full bloom.
Leta flinched slightly. In the back of her mind, memories were starting to flow back.
Nights and nights of waiting, watching the pale white buds...then suddenly, smelling something faint and citrusy, and running over excitedly.
"Leta! Leta!" Newt howled, jumping with excitement. "Look, it finally opened!"
The guilt and pleasure that rushed through her when he cut off one and put it in her hair, saying it was going to wilt the next day anyway so she might as well wear it and look pretty while they lasted.
"It's...lovely," Leta coughed awkwardly. "What is this one?" she asked, pointing at another plant that looked practically dead and had sprouted only two leaves.
"It's a Welwitschia," Jedediah replied sternly, almost making her jump. "It's supposed to look like that. This one is almost a thousand years old."
"Oh...I see," Leta replied, drawing her hand back immediately. Best not to kill it. I don't even have medical insurance.
"Yes," Jedediah replied. "My fiancee finds it rather funny that I enjoy collecting plants that appear dead. Teases me to no end about it." With that, he turned away and started walking briskly again.
Leta gulped. Have I offended him somehow?
Newt looked over at her, and paused. "He doesn't dislike you," he said, reaching down to readjust his socks slightly. "If he did, he wouldn't have answered you." He also stood back up and walked away, leaving Leta next to the Welwitschia, somewhat lost and confused.
How did he know what I was thinking?
Brushing it off, Leta shook her head and jogged slightly to keep up with the both of them.
Once she caught up with them, she found herself in another bright, cream-colored room which was lit by a single lamp, as it had no windows. Newt and Jedediah were hunched over, observing a rather large birdcage in which a pink-feathered, green-tufted bird could be seen.
"What a looker!" Newt muttered, leaning in to look closer at it. "Look how wonderfully bright his feathers are! He'd be a popular chap, no doubt about it. Bit far from home, aren't you, old friend? And what did you have for breakfast today?"
Leta did not know anything about African birds, and could care less about how pink his feathers were or how desirable as a mate it would be. Instead, she found herself drawn to the lamp sitting in a corner of the room. In her lifetime, she'd seen plenty of enchanted lamps, but they were always enchanted to last forever or turn certain colors. Or, well, if you counted the Hand of Glory that she stole from her father to sell to Borgin and Burke's...to allow the holder to commit deeds by the most discreet candlelight known to man.
But this lamp looked much more magical than anything else she'd ever seen. The lamp itself was shaped like a birdcage, which held a bijou statuette of a woman holding a dove cast in bronze. Around the woman, oil raindrops fell and spun around her, illuminating her beautifully, elevating her into a goddess. Leta squinted at the oil raindrops, trying to guess if they were truly made of oil or if they were merely beads hanging on a thread, still trying to detect a trace of magic. However, what struck Leta as most interesting was the woman's earrings. Instead of simply carving and painting earrings onto the bronze statuette, someone had crafter them out of real purple, white and green jewels and affixed them to the woman's ears.
"So, do you think he'll ever sing again?" Jedediah asked, breaking up the silence.
Leta turned away from the oil rain lamp to focus on the situation at hand. Newt continued to peer at the pink bird thoughtfully, staring at it with open fascination.
"Well," Newt mumbled, "He does have a Silencing Charm on him, so that's probably why he hasn't been singing."
"He does? Well, then remove it! What are you waiting for?" `
"Hm, I would," Newt replied pensively. "But I wouldn't want to put you two in danger."
"What?" Leta found herself asking at the same time as Jedediah.
"I'm afraid you've been played for a sucker, Jedd," Newt sighed, straightening up and taking a step back from the birdcage. "In fact, you should thank your stars this bird can't sing. I'd be perfectly happy to take it off your hands, though. For free. I'll find him a good home, maybe even a mate. It won't be a problem, given what a handsome specimen he is."
Jedediah opened, then closed his mouth.
"Take-take it off my hands? Why, is he defective?"
"Oh no, quite the contrary," Newt replied cheerfully, casually pulling a leather falconer's gauntlet from his coatpocket. "That's the problem."
Jedediah crossed his arms. "I'd love an explanation if you wouldn't mind."
"Oh!" Newt replied, as if it hadn't occurred to him that other people would appreciate clarifications. "You see, this kind of bird does have a song, but you're not supposed to listen to it!"
Leta blinked. "Why not?" she asked, confused. "Does it sound awful?"
"Indeed! It's sort of a high-pitched, endless twitter. Known to drive wizards clinically insane. Why else do you think Uric the Oddball liked to wear dead badgers and jellyfish on his head? Listened to it for a straight month, he did. Funny bugger. Anyways! I'll be taking this one off your hands, if you don't mind. Unless you'd like to keep its feathers to turn into quills. Beyond that, there's not much else you can do with him."
Jedediah narrowed his eyes and peered at the bird he'd invested so many Galleons into. "Are you sure there isn't anything else he's capable of?"
"Oh, well Fwooper eggs are quite valuable!" Newt replied cheerfully, slipping on the falconry glove onto his left hand as if he'd done it a million times. "But this one won't be giving you any eggs, Jedd. Unless you buy him a mate to get along with. Even then, the whole birthing process is extremely risky and shouldn't be attempted by any non-professionals! Many amateur breeders have gone mad as a result."
Leta squinted at Newt as well. "Have you ever helped hatch any?" she asked pointedly.
"Oh, yes. But only once. And I was wearing some very powerful earmufflers," Newt winked. "Well! What's the verdict, Jedd?"
Jedediah stared mournfully at the Fwooper one last time. "Well, if he can't sing, I'm afraid he's not much use to me. My fiancee prefers the singsongy types."
"Alright, in that case I'll take him!" Newt replied excitedly and swung upon the birdcage door, almost making Leta and Jedediah jump. "Miss, if you could please hand me my briefcase and open it?"
Leta sighed and bent over, picking up the brown leather briefcase with both hands. It felt rather heavy, as if Newt has stuffed it up with cinderblocks. She brought it over and placed it right beside him.
"Thank you!" Newt exclaimed gratefully. "Now, please step inside."