Credence didn't get much free time, but what he did get, he treasured. It was a rare night when Ma went to bed before he and Modesty did, but she had complained of a headache and retired for the evening before they'd even finished clearing the dinner dishes. Chastity had given Credence a stern look before heading up to her room. Credence had followed, waiting just long enough for Chastity to be asleep before taking off into the darkness, the soft snores from behind Ma's doors filling him with confidence.

His feet had roamed the length and breadth of the city and they took him to one of the places he liked best. It was a small park in a residential area, one that was almost never busy. There were no swings or slides, so families with children didn't bother. In fact, all it had to recommend it was a stretch of grass dotted with a few small, overgrown flowerbeds, and a fountain with a woman clad in wispy stone robes holding a sword in the center.

Credence enjoyed the city after dark. There was no one there giving him dismissive or disdainful looks or hissing insults under his breath. He didn't have to worry about passing out enough flyers or getting bumped by a passer-by with fresh marks across his back. With no one around to remind him that he was different, he could forget that he was for a while and just be one of the thousands of souls that lived in New York City.

Sitting here in the dark, breathing deeply, listening to the calming sound of running water, he felt more confident than he ever did.

Credence perched on the edge of the base of the fountain squinting into the dark water. Beneath the surface were a few pennies, wishes tossed in by the whimsical. Looming over them, a large pale blob framed by the black brim of his hat, his face was reflected in the surface of the water. He didn't have much to recommend him, it was true, with a skeletally angular face and disproportionately large ears. His hair was cropped short according to Ma's wishes and his clothes were out of style. But he wasn't ugly, he didn't think. He wasn't that visibly different from the other city dwellers. So why did they always seem able to tell?

Credence reached up, tugging at the tight neck of his shirt as he felt that beast that lingered in the bit of his stomach perk up, lazily lifting its head to scent the air. It didn't often bother him in these calm times but there were a few occasions where it was like it sensed a weakness in him. On those occasions, instead of roaring and rattling the bars of the cage he'd built around it, it curled slow and seductive in the pit of his stomach, ever-tightening coils of dark thoughts flooding his mind and making him think terrible things.

Tearing the whole damn city apart because what had it ever done for him making all those people who sneered own their noses at him look up in fear as they groveled for mercyNO!

Credence whimpered, reaching up and clutching his head, knocking his hat off. It rolled a short distance away as he frantically shook his head, trying to fight off those terrible, sinful thoughts. They weren't him, they weren't him, he chanted in his mind. They were that sinful thing inside of him, the thing Ma tried to hard to beat out of him.

Footsteps.

Feeling like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been, Credence lowered his hands and whipped around. It wasn't hard to locate the source of the sound, there was only one other person out on the street. She stood under the streetlight wearing heels and a flittering dress with a thick ruff of white fur at the hem. Her hair was in finger waves, glowing like the moon along with the thick ropes of pearls coiled around her wrist and throat. A thin rope of pearls wrapped around her head, a bloom of white feathers at her temple. She looked beautiful, like a movie star, like she was too good to be true.

"Credence," she said, voice carrying in the stillness of the night, and she made her way across the street to him.

()()()()()(()()

Iliana didn't particularly like wandering the streets of New York after dark, but on occasion it was necessary. This was one of those occasions, when Gus hadn't been out all day and they had come home from the bar to find him chewing on the table to let out some pent-up energy. Elvira was exhausted and still had bookkeeping and orders to handle, and so Iliana was the one left to take him for a walk around the city before she could pass out for the night.

The alternative was to wake up and find Gus gone with a hole chewed through the door.

"Gus, what has gotten into you?" Iliana huffed, wishing for a moment that she'd thought to change into more comfortable shoes. They wouldn't have gone with her cocktail dress and gloves, but at least she wouldn't have been slipping in heels that provided very poor traction on the wet sidewalk.

Gus certainly was a bundle of energy. He was tugging at his leash and whining. Under the geass of the symbols on his collar he looked like a dachshund, but he pulled like a great Dane as they walked. Iliana took a few quick, jogging steps as she rounded the corner, passing under a bright streetlight.

It was late enough that most sensible people were inside and the streets were empty. That was the only reason that she heard the gasp. Iliana looked up and cast around curiously for whatever had made it, Gus yanking on her arm. His tugs guided her eyes to the small park across the road for her. Next to a small fountain with a sword-wielding classical woman standing in the middle pouring water from her mouth sat Credence Barebone.

Iliana's mouth dropped open in surprise, but she supposed it wasn't too impossible. New York City was a big place, but they both seemed to stick to Manhattan. Again, still a massive area but it wasn't impossible that they'd come across each other. Still, given that she wasn't actively seeking him out anymore it seemed a little surprising…

Than again, from the minute she met him she felt a strange draw to him. Whether it was curiosity over someone who could be a part of a group like the Second Salemers, or desire to help a person who was suffering abuse, or something else, she'd never been able to put her finger on. If she were prepared to be a little philosophical, maybe it was fate. It could even have been some kind of instinct from her veela mother guiding her to easy prey. Veela were beings, not beasts, there was no doubt about that, but there was also no doubt that their very biology made them deft hunters.

"Credence," she said, and immediately she was crossing the road and heading to stand beside him. He was frozen, staring at her like he couldn't believe that she was real and, oddly enough, his hat was lying abandoned on the wet concrete several inches from the toes of his shoes.

Gus trotted up to the hat, sniffing, and Iliana recognized the glint in his eye that said he was about to try and take a bite to see if it agreed with him.

"Leave it, Gus," she chided gently, wary of snapping so close to Credence. She bent down and picked up his hat. Her grip on Gus's leash shifted, the loop sliding up her wrist, as she brushed a few fallen leaves from the brim. A gentle smile on her face, she handed it back and said, "I believe this is yours."

"Ili.. Miss Velikova…" Credence took the hat and lowered his eyes, his cheeks burning visibly red even in the dim lighting. Iliana shifted and sat on the edge of the fountain next to him, ignoring any dirt or wet. That could be handled with a spell at any time.

"Iliana is fine," she assured him. Credence's neck rolled and his fingers twitched towards her.

"Your dress…" he mumbled. "It's getting dirty."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Iliana assured him. "I can get a stain out of anything," she said with a cheeky wink. Her smile began to feel stretched and fake as Credence still refused to look up at her. Their last encounter at her apartment had obviously rattled him some, not that his confidence had been stellar to begin with. Her mouth relaxed into a faint frown, casting around for something to change the subject to. The burbling of water drew her gaze to the statue in the middle of the fountain and her gaze sharpened.

"You know, I don't think I've ever noticed this fountain before," she commented absently. "That woman in the middle… what would you say she is?"

That got his attention. Credence still refused to look at her, but he did look up at the beatific face of the carved woman in the middle of the fountain, her sword point falling behind her gracefully. "I don't know. One of those Greek myths, maybe?"

"A Greek myth?" Iliana commented lightly. "Hm. Maybe. I don't think so. Perhaps it's just because of where my mother's from, but she rather reminds me of a vila." The word sounded the same as veela and they were doubtlessly the inspiration for the No-Maj myth, but the No-Majs had taken a basic understanding of them and run with it, sprinkling artistic license everywhere.

"Have you ever heard of them, Credence?" Iliana asked lightly. She took a risk, reaching out and touching his knee very gently. As expected he jumped, gasping slightly. He seemed torn between pulling away from her and leaning into the touch. The result was a conflicted expression as he whispered,

"No."

"Not surprising," Iliana murmured, taking pity on him and pulling her fingers back. "They're Slavic creatures, like fairies. Beautiful women with long blonde hair; adept fighters and hunters and healers. Sometimes, they can even change their shape into things like wolves or swans. If you believe the myths, they like to lure men in with their seductive circle dances. I don't think that's true though. I think they just like to dance. Men come on their own."

To her credit, there was only a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"Is that what you are?"

Iliana tensed, the astuteness of the observation surprising her but she supposed maybe she hadn't been very subtle. A glance showed that while she'd been distracted, Credence had raised his head enough to peer at her from under his lashes, shy but curious.

"I thought I was an angel?" Iliana asked teasingly, and apparently that was a bit too much because he ducked his head once more and retreated. Iliana felt a spike of frustration. She wanted to just grab him and shake him, scream in his face to straighten up and throw his shoulders back, to go and tell Mary Lou Barebone where she could stick her switch, but she knew that was selfish, her own impatience with his beaten-in reticence rearing its ugly head.

"S-Sorry…" Credence stammered. "I'm sure you don't… don't want to be called some… some Slavic monster."

Iliana twitched at the unintentionally insensitive comment. Instead she scooted a bit closer along the edge of the fountain. The toe of her shoe brushed the side of his foot.

"I don't mind," she assured him. "Because they're not monsters. They're actually very friendly unless you make them mad, and then they can be vicious. And in the stories, they're almost always sworn blood sisters to heroes."

"What's a… what's that?"

"A blood sister?" Iliana clarified, and he nodded gently. "They swore loyalty to the heroes, became family even though they weren't blood related. Some people still do it, make blood oaths to always stay together and protect each other." Her finger gently traced up to the pendant hanging with her pearls, the vial of Elvira's blood that would warn her if ever her sister was in trouble. For just a moment she considered asking her sister to make her one that would warn her if Credence was in trouble, but quickly brushed off the thought as madness.

"So… so they're like guardian angels too?"

Iliana smiled faintly, because with Credence so many things seemed to be wrapped up in a religious overtone. "A suppose you could think of them as a pagan version, yes. Same basic principle in some ways."

"I knew you weren't human."

Iliana wrinkled her nose, shifting away from him warily. The way he said it, she'd heard those words uttered before and they never preceded anything good. Normally they were succeeded by insults and slurs. "And what do you mean by that?" Credence shifted, moving away from her as well, angling so that one shoulder was upraised towards her defensively. "Credence?" she pressed. "What do you mean, you knew I wasn't human. Did you tell Mary Lou that?"

"No!" He seemed horrified at the very thought, moving faster than he'd ever done before. He stood up like he'd just sat on a tack, backing away, ringing his hands. Iliana flinched, fingers curling tight against the wet concrete edge of the fountain, watching as he shook. "No, sh-she'd try to hurt you, l-like at the park only worse a-and I-I… I don't… I c-can't…"

"Credence… Credence, breathe!" Iliana urged, starting to grow nervous he was going to hyperventilate. "It's alright, I believe you. I know you'd never do anything to hurt me. You promised."

"N-No I wouldn't but Ma… Ma says magic is evil… that it's bad but you're n-not… but you a-are… so… so I-I don't…"

"Credence," Iliana said nervously, because he looked like he was being torn apart by the conflict of what Mary Lou had beaten into him compared with what he'd observed of her and Iliana wondered if maybe she hadn't made things worse by relaxing her guard on her magic around him. She'd trusted him when he said he didn't mean her any harm. She hadn't imagined she could actually do him harm, even though by MACUSA standards she'd already trampled on about eight laws.

He was shaking badly, his hands wringing, and he still refused to look at her. Iliana stood up and moved forwards, her heels clicking sharply on the path. Credence flinched, but she wasn't having it as she walked forwards, gripped his chin, and yanked it up to meet her gaze. Credence cringed, a high-pitched whine escaping his lips, and still refused to look at her, staring past her ear.

"Credence, look at me," Iliana urged gently, letting her hand slide from his chin to his shoulder. She remembered how he'd leaned into her grip back when she was healing him and she used that now, gently massaging his shoulder in hopes of soothing him. "Look at me. It's okay, it's alright."

"It's not," he whimpered, working himself up into more of a frenzy and still refusing to look her in the eye. "Because if M-Ma knows about you… sh-she'd find out, she always finds out… If I was the r-reason…I-I'd kill myself… Not that it'd be a loss…"

"Don't you dare!" The words came out far sharper than she intended and Iliana hated herself for the way Credence shrunk away from her, cringing like he expected a blow.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He was tripping over himself to apologize for making her angry while Iliana was just terrified of the idea of Credence killing himself.

"God, what has she done to you?" Iliana moaned, burying her face in her hands. "How could anyone do this?"

Credence shook his head. "Sh-She had to… I'm bad… I'm evil, like m-my r-real mother… I st-stole a-and…"

"Credence," Iliana said desperately. "How in the name of Abigail Williams are you evil? You are the most non-threatening person I have ever seen in my life!"

"Y-You don't know… you don't understand," he cried, reaching up and clutching at the sides of his face like he was trying to hold himself together. Iliana couldn't help it even though she knew crowding him at the moment was possibly the worst thing that she could have done.

"Credence-"

She reached for him, he threw up his arms defensively, and Iliana cried out as a wave of air smacked into her lifting her bodily from the ground and tossing her into the fountain with a mighty splash. Pain lanced through her elbow and rib as she landed in the shallow water and it took her a moment to get herself oriented. When she did, Iliana sat up, spitting out water and trying to wipe it from her eyes without smearing her mascara into them.

When she finally got herself together Credence was gone, vanished into the night. Gus stood on the edge of the fountain, hackles raised and a low growl rumbling in his belly. Iliana shifted, hissing a spell under her breath as she moved her hand to her side healing whatever damage had been done to her ribs. Already soaked through, she sat for a moment and stared at her reflection in the water, one arm draped over an upraised knee.

A pale, bedraggled face looked back at her, hair sticking to her cheeks and black smeared in a wide circle around her eyes. At that exact moment she appeared pathetic and in over her head. Iliana gave a soft sigh and curled up, skirt floating around her in the water, pressing her head to her knees.

"Sweet Sayre, what am I thinking, trying to fix something like this?"

Elvira,

You are an angel, a godsend, a divine inspiration... Forgive me, I'm not usually so religious, but with the help of what you delivered to me, I believe I've isolated the missing elements of the Ramirez ritual that you sent me. A few are a bit hard to come by, but I've reached out to a friend in Istanbul who deals in such things and he's rounding the missing elements up as we speak. It would not have been possible without you though, and for that you have my eternal gratitude.

Time is my main concern now. As you know, the potion will take roughly a week and a half to prepare and the ritual lasts an entire day. That's not counting the time it will take for by friend to get me what I need. It's a stroke of luck that we are where we are in the lunar cycle or it would have been a little over a month before we could have attempted this. The girl wouldn't last that long, of that I have no doubt. I'm not even entirely positive she'll last the two and a half weeks it will take to get everything ready, though I try to stay optimistic.

It's hard dealing with her family now. I want to let them know that there's hope without getting their hopes up so high. I do believe the ritual could work, but it's untested and unproven. It's wrong to make them think I've found the solution when it might do nothing might even make the situation worse. Added to all that I'm trying to explain these things through a translator and I'm not very good with people to begin with…

I don't think I'm making a leap when I say I think we had similar experiences in school. Mostly left alone, considered freaks by our peers… forgive me, but there was a rather cruel drawing left in that book you sent me. I guessed from there that such a thing likely wasn't uncommon. For me it was much the same. 'Newt Scamander kissed a salamander,' I heard that a lot.

I had only one friend. Her name was Leta Lestrange. She was roughly as unpopular as I was, perhaps even moreso. Part of it had to do with her family, personal details which are not mine to share. Some of it was house politics, which I'll attempt to explain.

You see, Slytherin is almost universally disliked by the other houses due to a rift between Salazar Slytherins and the other Founders and the connections the house has historically had with Dark magic. We Hufflepuffs might have been the butt of many jokes, but we were always considered, at the very least, non-offensive. Leta's family troubles weren't helped by her Sorting into Slytherin, and together we formed a little band of outcasts that ended when I left school.

That's part of why I'm very glad our relationship began the way it did. I hope I don't offend you when I say I think I'd have been terrified of you had I simply walked into the Cactus Cat one night and met you at the bar. When we write letters I can take back the foolish things that I sometimes come up with, censor all the awkward parts of my personality. It makes things easier for me, to be able to talk without being terrified I'm going to say something I won't be able to take back.

You had mentioned my meeting your sister in a previous letter before we were sidetracked with that minor issue of life or death. I would be absolutely delighted to do so, though I'll admit I'm slightly more excited to meet you. Actually, I find myself imagining introducing you to my brother when I'm stressed lately. I can imagine you would give my stuffed-shirt, rule-following brother a heart attack and it always makes me smile. Someday I'd like for you to actually meet him though.

Elvira… while the fate of Thomas Crane is something I do regret I can't be angry at you for acting to defend your companions. You didn't realize what you were dealing with, you saw a threat and reacted as many would have. I can't say that I'm entirely enthused by every part of the situation as you explained it to me, but it's very clear that this is something that still affects you deeply. I know you would never have wished that little boy harm. I may be making an assumption but from what you've told me of your duties in your community I suspect you've done more than enough good to balance the bad.

In summary, I could never hate you.

Wish me luck

Newt

PS While I did thoroughly enjoy the cactus cat juice you sent me… who or what is 'Spike?'

Elvira sagged back in her chair, her legs crossed and propped up on the edge of her desk. She winced and shifted, crossing her right leg over her left so that it took less pressure, and clutched the letter to her chest.

He wasn't mad. He didn't hate her.

More than that, Newt had managed to correctly guess that some of what she did for the magical community in New York was her own form of penance. It would have been very easy for her to turn her back on the Wizarding community after the way they'd treated her family and the way they'd treated her personally, but in the course of a handful of letters Newt had managed to correctly predict that the death of Thomas had weighed on her heavily enough to drive her to try and make up for it in some grand, cosmic sense.

He just didn't realize quite how true it was.

Elvira leaned forward to the cluster of silver picture frames on her desk. There was Absalom, winking at her, and a bored-looking Iliana paging through a book. Newt himself offered her a hesitant smile and wave. She reached past all of them for the largest frame of the collection at the very back, lifting it up and settling it in her lap. Her fingers traced along the filigreed edges of the frame as the occupants inside waved and smiled at the camera. Only some of them were magical, and their uniforms covered a half dozen countries, but they were united on either side of her wheelchair, grinning and leaning in towards her with their own injuries still visible in bruises and bandages.

Elvira reached down and rubbed her knee as a phantom pain shot through it, the noise of a mortar round going off echoing in her ears with the sound of shouts and moans of pain. She winced, setting the picture back where it belonged and making a note to write to Henri sometime in the near future.

For now, though, she had a magizoologist to write back to.

Newt,

I'm so glad to hear about your progress with the Ramirez ritual! I'll admit that my fiddling with it fell by the wayside about the same time I became involved in something else. It was the thing that ended with me confined to New York, something I will tell you about one day, but not now. Not until you're actually in front of me and we can really talk.

Don't worry about whatever 'awkward parts of your personality' you think are going to make me uncomfortable. As Iliana occasionally reminds me, I'm not exactly a picnic to deal with all the time either. Getting to know each other's quirks is part of becoming closer friends. It's a challenge I find myself very eager for. I'm hoping that your friend in Istanbul will pull through faster than expected and the ritual will work smoothly – not just for your Sudanese girl, but because I want you hurrying on to New York. Having a time frame makes me more excited.

Frankly, I'm starting to become scared there's one in New York City too. It's probably just because Obscurials are on my mind thanks to our conversations, but I've enclosed the article that ran in the Daily Ghost this morning. A lot of property damage – buildings destroyed, streets ripped up, and witnesses reported seeing a black mass. Of course it could have been a duel gone out of hand, this Is the first time anything like this has been reported, but still. I'd like your opinion on it. It's been a while since I encountered an Obscurial, and I'm ashamed to admit that my own feelings might have clouded the memories.

I liked it better when it was always thunderbirds with us. Far lighter a subject.

I'd forgotten to explain the label! Spike is the cactus cat who was responsible for the beverage. I found him years ago in Nevada. He was injured, unable to go out, and unfortunately his mate had a rare trait – albinism. As you can imagine, it should have been a death sentence for the poor creature, living in a desert, but somehow she'd survived to adulthood. The problem was that she'd passed the trait on to every one of their litter. The whole family would have died if I hadn't found them. Since then, Spike has kept me in alcohol and I've provided his family with a habitat far more hospitable to their unique coloring.

Yet another reason MACUSA would like to arrest me.

It sounds like I would enjoy meeting your brother. I'll admit, I'm intrigued now. How did you end up traipsing hither and yon after besties while your brother, presumably, has a desk job? I'll admit Iliana and I are fairly different but the bar is a business we share. She sings there at night, I don't think I've ever told you that. She's very good, and the veela in her is only part of the reason.

It sounds like your friend Leta and I would have quite a bit in common. But I have a question – you said 'when I left school' not 'when we left school.' Were you different ages? Or did something happen at school? We've never pressed for personal details before and I won't now if you don't want to tell me, it's simply something I noticed and wondered about.

Wishing you all the luck in the world,

Elvira

PS You probably already know this, but come into New York via a Muggle ship and port. Coming in by wizarding methods will mean a trip to MACUSA and they WILL catch you. I wouldn't be shocked if they met you at the dock with handcuffs, considering what sort of a trip you've been on.