Note: I wrote this back in 2019 and had it posted on Wattpad. In the original version the story took place post CoG, but now that SoD is out, I decided to alter several things to fit into the timeline (that's already a mess, but I'm sure we all know that). I don't follow the canon timeline 100% for an obvious reason, and it's a fanfiction anyway so I'm thinking about creating my own based on some information that we have so far. I certainly don't guarantee historical accuracy, you've been warned. The updates will probably be super slow, since I have uni, and I'm sorry for that. As per usual, any kind of feedback is highly appreciated.
Hope you enjoy it as much as I do writing it!
Dragon on the Loose: Who Could Be the One Behind the Attack?
A Surge of Numbers of Missing People: Should We be Worried?
Eyes on Flamboyant Fawley's Lavish Lifestyle: Minister Seen in a Banquet in Paris
Those headlines look very conspicuous on the front page of The Daily Prophet. The news, combined with on-going speculations and rumours, draws in a number of people feeling unsettled and terrified by the uncertainty. Whispers and murmurs can be heard among the witches and wizards standing by the newsstand in the Atrium of the British Ministry of Magic. In the midst of the small crowd, a man wearing a dark blue long coat drops a few coins into a small tube on the stand, before grabbing one copy of the latest newspaper. He then makes his way towards the lift, which is now crowded with people hurrying to make it to their offices on time. Stopping on the second floor, the wizard with the newspaper then walks out.
'Mister Scamander,' the man greets his superior by the time he arrives in the office, before turning to a witch with dark curly hair who seems to be arranging some red roses in a porcelain vase on top of a desk, 'Tori.'
'Auror Laing,' Scamander nods at the wizard, 'you're on time, the briefing will start shortly.' Then the Head Auror turns to the witch and puts down an envelope sealed with the ministry crest. 'Auror Andrews, once you're done, can you please give this note to Madam Macmillan? It's a note from the Minister. I would deliver it myself, but Travers is expecting me for a briefing before we depart for another round of investigation.'
'To the fourth floor, Sir?' The witch, who happens to be his assistant, asks to make sure.
Scamander gives a short smile. 'Yes, thank you.' And without saying anything else, he and the other Auror walk towards the other side of the building.
As told, Andrews who quickly finishes with the flowers grabs the note and makes her way to the lift. All the way to the said department, whispers and murmurs can still be heard, mostly directed at the current Minister for not doing his job properly in preventing the number of missing person cases. It's nothing new, of course, especially for someone who works in the Auror Office. Though, there's a slight uneasiness at the realisation that whatever message she is delivering is probably very important, and the small faith she has is hoping that he is eventually doing something.
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, The Fourth Floor. Of course anyone but the Head Auror himself has to be the one who delivers the message. There are places which Head Auror Theseus Scamander is known to avoid, but people simply assume that the Auror doesn't get along well with some of the people. Also, it's his brother's old department, and even though they're now closer than ever, maybe some people there are still aware of the rocky relationship the brothers had. Although some others speculate that it's more than just that.
'Madam Macmillan, Ma'am?'
An older woman dressed in teal, who is talking to one of the staff, turns around. 'Andrews!' Madam Macmillan smiles, her dark brown eyes lights up with familiarity. 'How can I help you?'
'I have a note from Minister Fawley, given to you through Mister Scamander, but he is currently at a briefing with Mister Travers, so he is unable to.'
The Head Department nods in understanding, as she takes the envelope from the auror's grasp. 'Thank you, Andrews. Remember we have a meeting later after lunch with the rest of the special task force members.'
'Yes, Ma'am.' Taking the last nod as a cue, the Auror leaves the Beast Division office.
With the note in her grasp, Madam Macmillan goes back to her office. She doesn't wait for long before tearing the seal apart to reveal the note. She scans the message, word by word, humming once in a while, eyebrows raising in realisation. The corners of her lips curve upwards in a small smile, and she pulls the office door open to find her assistant.
The young witch with short blonde hair, after spotting her superior, quickly rises to her feet. 'Is there anything I can help you with, Madam?'
'Felicity, can you please make some travel arrangements for me? I've been tasked to greet an old friend and hopefully to welcome her back to the Ministry.' As her assistant scribbles down some notes, Madam Macmillan adds, 'Oh, and please tell Auror Scamander to handle the special task force meetings while I'm gone. That would be all, thank you.'
Dragon Sanctuary, Carpathian Mountains.
Rosalind Fawley has been staring at the water for a little too long, as if expecting her own reflection to blink or say something back to her—well, anything to make her feel less lonely as she sits in silence. Usually she would find comfort in her favourite spot by the lake, secluded from the main buildings, but this time it's different. Blinking slowly, the witch darts her attention straight ahead, towards the hills and the mountains, from which she can hear the faint roar of the Romanian Longhorns. Brushing back a few strands of dark brown hair from her face, she lets out a sigh.
So much has changed ever since the news about Gellert Grindelwald being on the run once again was reported in the magical newspapers around the world. She can tell that not everyone has recovered from the muggle war that happened more than a decade prior, and it's as if things can't get any worse. Almost everyday she reads news about this charismatic dark wizard, who is trying to convince the magical community to join his side with seductive messages, capitalising on their fear and trying to gain sympathy. With the numbers of recent attacks in Europe rising significantly, the latest being in Transylvania, many students and magizoologist, specifically the dragonologists, who are currently working and studying at the largest Dragon Sanctuary in the world have been called back to their home countries for safety reasons. Thus, many of her friends and colleagues have left the place, leaving her to wonder if someone would come for her any day now, especially knowing how her father is. Or maybe this time her father wouldn't bother and left her to fend for herself, like she had always wanted.
It's not like she wants to be rescued anyway. She is perfectly content if she has to stay there. Perhaps she can help the dragon keepers with some extra work. It's not like she always thinks of the worst of everything her father does, but the past few years of no correspondence is enough for her to make up her mind. If it's not for her brother still updating her about things that happened back home or her old friends updating her with their whereabouts, she's probably as good as dead—or missing . Rosalind scoffs at the thought.
Standing up, the brunette decides to have a lap around the lake to calm her mind. One of the best things she likes about living there is how clean the air is. She takes a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of pine and cedar wood fill her senses. It somewhat reminds her of her time back in Hogwarts where she stayed during the breaks, or maybe the forest behind the manor where she spent her childhood in. She smiles at some of the best memories she can think of. Isn't it fascinating how everything that our senses feel, smell, and touch can take us back to the good old days?
'Rosalind!' A voice calling out her name wakes her up from her train of thoughts. 'Rosalind Fawley!'
Rosalind turns towards where the main buildings are and sees one of her closest friends waving at her, a suitcase is standing nearby. Smiling sadly at the realisation, she walks over, leaving her favourite spot by the lake towards the back entrance of the building.
'Forgive me, I was,' she pauses— trying to get used to being alone again , she wants to say—before continuing, 'I was thinking about which book I'm gonna read next or which dragon I need to look after now that you're leaving.'
The raven haired witch with glasses frowns, before taking a step to grab her arm. 'I know you've been avoiding me, Rose, and I'm sorry.'
'Martina, it's fine. I should be the one who is sorry. I'm not good at goodbyes and that's not an excuse to not bid you a farewell,' Rosalind says, 'I'm sorry.'
'Well, you need to work on that habit of avoiding people to spare yourself the sadness,' Martina tries to convince her, 'because it's not healthy, and it's best to face the feelings now rather than regret not saying goodbye at all, yeah?'
Rosalind goes silent, pressing her lips tight, knowing what her friend is implying. She looks away briefly, trying to hide the guilty look on her face, before she looks back and nods.
'You're right, Teen,' she sighs, 'I'll miss you and your brilliant life advice.'
'I'll miss you too, come here!' Martina grins, pulling her friend into an embrace. 'I'll miss keeping you grounded, for sure.'
'I beg your pardon, I am not as handful as you try to imply.' Rosalind smiles ear to ear.
'Mhmm, sure, then I guess you won't need my life advice that I'll be sending from the Southern Hemisphere.'
'That,' she emphasises, 'is an exception. I would love to hear about your life and maybe some good words from you?'
'I'll write as much as I can, Rose. I swear you're the only person who doesn't mind me telling you stuff about Juan or just anything in general.' Martina smiles. 'What would I do without you?'
'You have your fiance now, I'm sure you'll be fine,' Rosalind says. 'But you'll always have me. One day I'll come to visit you in Buenos Aires, just you wait.'
The two witches embrace each other once again, before they pull away to bid each other goodbye.
' Adios!' Martina waves at her, before she gets inside the main building to travel by the Floo Network.
Once again, Rosalind is left with the silence—or serenity, as she prefers to call it, and she's decided to go back to her dormitory. Perhaps she can call it a night earlier and read a book until she falls asleep. That's probably for the best, she thinks. But before she can turn to walk away, she hears footsteps following her. Turning around, she almost jumps in shock when she recognises the person.
'M-Madam Macmillan?'
The older witch takes a few steps closer, flashing her a smile. 'What did I say about names, Rosalind?'
Rosalind shakes her head, but she can no longer hide the huge smile on her face. 'Right, Monisha, sorry.' She hurries in to hug her former superior, and she hugs her back, though reluctantly given that they're in public and she has professionalism to maintain. 'Gosh, it's been years! What brings you here?' But the look on her face is enough for Rosalind to guess. 'Oh, right.'
At first Rosalind thinks that her father has died, or perhaps her uncle or aunt, or even her cousin. She didn't want to set an expectation, so she thought of the worst. Turns out, as predicted, she is recruited back by the British Ministry of Magic for 'safety reasons' but it goes beyond that. Though if she wants to be honest, she doesn't know if she should be happy or upset. And now there they are, inside her superior, Mister Iordanescu's room, which has been kindly lent for them to have a private conversation.
'So, I'm expected to join this special task force, to help the investigation and to prevent further muggle exposure of magic,' Rosalind finally stops pacing back and forth and finally takes a seat on the chair before the desk. 'And if I don't want to?'
'Your travel permit won't be renewed,' Monisha Macmillan says solemnly.
Shaking her head, Rosalind scoffs. 'Safety reasons my arse.'
'The Minister is probably worried about you, Rose.'
'Did he say that to you?' She raises an eyebrow. 'Oh wait, no, he didn't even bother to tell you himself. Did he even mention it in the notes?'
Monisha shakes her head. 'No, but any parent would be worried for their children during times like this.'
Has he ever been a proper parent to me and my brother, though? That remark is on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it back. It's not Monisha's fault that Rosalind is the way she is.
'It's your call, Rosalind. Things may not be the best back home, so I'm offering you to stay in my place with Anita and Amar,' Monisha pauses, 'well, if you decide to come back, that is.'
Rosalind sighs. To come back to London means to confront her past, everything she has left behind all those years ago, everything she thinks she's done with. Her hand unconsciously finds the locket she wears around her neck, a habit she does whenever she feels uneasy, and she toys with the small pendant. Deep down, she has always known that this moment will come, that she will have to face what she has left behind, the unfinished business, and no matter how long she has been dreading it, she knows she will never be ready for it. Taking a deep breath, Rosalind closes her eyes.
'I think I need a moment.'
A moment indeed.
Monisha told her earlier that she would be staying for a few days so Rosalind had 'all the time she needed' to make up her mind, even though she knows she doesn't really have much choice, now that she thinks about it. But perhaps she can use this time to sort herself out, to really prepare herself for what's about to come, so she agreed.
Her small dormitory is in disarray. Rosalind has been trying to pack her things, but for some reason, she doesn't know where to start. Her suitcase is already enchanted with the enlargement charm to make room for all of her stuff, and is now wide open. Her shoes and coats are already in there, given that it's summer so she won't need heavy clothing any time soon. Her books come next on the second layer, followed by her clothes. Realising that she hasn't packed her quills and notebooks, she makes her way towards her desk. She tries to pull the drawer open, but it doesn't budge, as if something is stuck inside. Grabbing her wand from the bed, she points it at the furniture.
' Aberto .'
The moment the drawer is forcibly pulled open, pieces of paper begin to fly around, causing the witch to groan in annoyance. She crouches down to gather everything and begins to realise that most of those are clippings of the newspapers she has read and letters she has received ever since she arrived there nearly a decade ago. Her heart swells with warmth as she finds a front page of the newspaper she saved recently.
NEWT HAS BEEN SEEN TRAVELLING THE WORLD WITH HIS BROTHER THESEUS, KNOWN MUGGLE JACOB KOWALKSI…
Her brown eyes scan the words over and over again, before stopping at one particular name. To say that she is proud of how far her old friend has come is an understatement. Having worked together during the war at the Eastern Front, Rosalind has always known that Newt Scamander will do great things, but it's another name that was the reason why she kept that clipping.
'Theseus…' she says the name out loud, before biting her lower lip, as if it is forbidden for her to say it.
She often finds herself thinking about him still, wondering how he is doing now, after everything he has been through—things she has heard from the news and Newt's letters. It doesn't concern you, Rose, may as well you let it go, she often tells herself.
Shaking her head, Rosalind continues to tidy up the mess she has made, and tries to bind everything together with a small cord before she puts them inside the case. Once she's done with the clippings, she moves to gather the letters. Seeing the name of the senders brings a smile to her face.
Dear Rosie,
How are you holding up so far? I'm currently in Belgium with the Quidditch team, and I've been told that this is the finest chocolate that they can find here. So I'm sending some to you, hopefully it'll arrive safely. I know you rarely have muggle chocolate, and I hope you like this one!
—H
Her brother, Hugo, has been so kind in spoiling her with sweets and chocolate from all around the world. He works with the national Quidditch team under the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and having the perk to travel the world, he has been sharing the joy with his little sister, and she is more than happy to enjoy the treats. Reading some of his letters makes her miss him dearly. At least she now has found a good reason to come back to London, which is to visit him. Rummaging through her letters, she pulls out another one sent by an old friend.
Dear Rosalind,
How are you? It's been a few months since our last correspondence. I'd like to thank you for your support and some insights on the Dragon entry for the book I was working on. It's finally released worldwide now, and I'd like you to have a copy directly from me. If you happen to be in town, well, maybe not anytime soon, please write to me, maybe we can catch up and I can thank you in person. I hope you are doing well in the Dragon Sanctuary.
Regards,
Newt Scamander
Rosalind briefly glances at her suitcase where the book is and smiles. Perhaps they can finally catch up after years, well, if he has the time. She understands from one of his most recent letters that Newt is indeed working closely with Albus Dumbledore, and she can only assume that he is likely to be busy. It somewhat reminds her of how similar the Scamander brothers actually are, and she wonders if they've finally realised it by now. Not wanting to dwell too much on that thought, she compiles the piece of parchment with the rest of the letters. Just when she is about to bind them together, she spots one from a familiar name. She bites her lower lip, contemplating if she should read it, before eventually deciding that there's no harm in doing so. Or at least she thought.
Dearest Rose,
How are you doing, love? I'm doing alright myself, and I've been busy with these extra works Travers assigned me for. I really miss having you around, and I decided to get some red roses for the vase that you got me last Christmas.
It's only the first paragraph of what seems to be a short letter, but guilt begins to seep in and she pauses, already thinking that it's not a good idea. Taking a deep breath, the witch then folds it neatly and puts it in a separated pile with many other letters from the same sender. She isn't sure if she can face him without having strong feelings at all, but she knows that reading his old letters is not going to help.
It doesn't really take long for her to finish packing her stuff. Sitting on her bed, Rosalind looks around the now almost vacant flat, the place that has been a home to her for the past decade—which is a long time. Her hand finds her locket around her neck, and she presses her lips tight as her finger fiddles with the accessory. Deep down, she knows that she always has reasons to come back to London—she even thought about it and saved some money for a quick visit but she never got the chance to. The only thing that holds her back is the reasons why she left in the first place.
'A decade is a long time, Rosalind,' she recalls Monisha's convincing words from earlier, 'People move on, and what's in the past will stay in the past. I'm sure you will feel like starting anew in no time once you're arrived home.'
As much as she wants to agree, she can't. People may have moved on, and she is sure that they really do, but she hasn't, and that's the problem. Rosalind may have dedicated most of her time studying about Dragons and tending to those dangerous creatures, but even that was never enough to get things out of her mind or to make her forget about it. In the mountains, living in solitude by choice, time almost feels like it's frozen to her, and going back to where it started means going back to confront the past.
And the past always has a way of returning whether she is ready or not.
Story playlist: 'Rose & Theseus' on Spotify. ( playlist/0dEvGwfPtkpmPTtPfSd0WA?si=0b5d4823fb794983)
