Here's chapter 2. I'm finding it much easier to write Tina than Newt. I probably should have figured that out before I started this story. Anyway, this has been fun. I've been mostly writing music for the last 10 years or so, so this is stretching different muscles. The last chapter needs some heavy editing and I'm going away for the holiday, so it probably won't be posted until around New Year's.
The wind whipped dry leaves into a storm around Newt as he exited the ministry. He pulled his coat tightly about him and breathed deeply. He didn't like the smell of cities, but the cool air helped clear his mind of the buzzing in his mind. It was a relief to be outside.
He started walking towards Pere Lachaise Cemetery. The cemetery was only a twenty minute walk from the Ministry and the park like atmosphere might help to relax him.
As he walked, he thought about Credence. He remembered the moment before Grindlewald disapparated with him and with the maladictus girl. He kept replaying the scene in his mind over and over. Credence had locked eyes with Newt at the last moment. He looked lost, desperate, and resigned. He had suffered so much already, but it was like he believed that he deserved it. And Newt had done nothing. He just watched it happen… wrong end of the alley… too far away… too slow. He passed a hand over his face, tiredly trying to scrub the image from his mind. It wasn't helping.
He realized with a start that he was already walking along the edge of Pere Lachaise Cemetery. The white stone wall rose up to his left and guided him along. Very soon he was standing before the main gate, offset from the road. The two tall pillars on either side of the gate were sentinels, casting shadows over visitors. Each was topped with a seal and Latin inscription, both suggesting that through faith and hope could one find immortality.
Newt wasn't sure about immortality. Witches and wizards tended to live longer than muggles, and seemed to have less of a fascination cheating death with a few exceptions. Still, he took comfort in the idea that the work people did in life could continue on, sometimes for centuries after they were dead. He hoped that his work with magical creatures might have some lasting impact on the wizarding community.
He stepped through the imposing gates and instantly felt better. The gray light and bitter wind kept most tourists and locals indoors, so Newt had this section of the cemetery to himself. He walked slowly down the beautifully tree lined roads and through a maze of impressive statuary, and stone carved mausoleums.
He was just thinking of heading back to the main road when he saw a figure peel away from a tree and pause.
Nagini.
Newt froze in indecision for a brief moment. He knew that following her by himself was risky. He knew that his brother would tear into him for doing it. He also knew that there was no other choice. He had no idea why she wasn't in Grindlewald's custody, but this was his chance to perhaps find out where Credence was and get one or both of them out of harm's way. He might not get another chance. His only question was whether to make contact with her now and bring her back to the ministry or see whether she lead him to Credence.
Newt decided to follow her, but he kept his distance. He let her get far enough ahead that it would be difficult for her to spot him, and he relied on his tracking skills as much as anything. As he continued to follow a footprint here, a trace of magic there, a hint of a shadow turning a corner up ahead, the pathways became narrower. The light became dimmer.
He found himself in a peculiar clearing. Around the edge stood four angels in a semi-circle, all facing a mausoleum. Three of the angels each took the classic hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil poses while the fourth, the angel of death in hooded shroud, pointed an accusatory finger towards the entrance of the mausoleum. The entrance was gated and locked and guarded by a statue of a woman, arms splayed out across the bars of the gate, barring anyone from entering. Newt regarded the tableaux for the briefest of moments. The effect was unsettling.
Nagini had vanished into the shadows beyond the clearing, and Newt wasn't sure which direction she had gone. He crouched to examine the ground for tracks when he heard a soft sound from across the clearing. He froze. There she was, leaning against the angel covering its mouth, half hidden in the failing light. She was wrapped in a wool shawl that didn't look up to the task of keeping out the wind. Her arms pulled it tightly across her body. It looked like she might have been crying.
"Hello," said Newt from his crouch in a soft soothing voice. "It's Nagini, isn't it? I'm Newt. We met briefly at the carnival yesterday… in a manner of speaking anyway. I'm a friend of Credence's. I've been worried about him, and you. Are you alright?" As he spoke, he stood and took a few very slow, cautious steps into the clearing. She didn't respond or really seem to notice him at all. "Are you hurt? Will you let me help…?" They were both startled by the sound of a snapping twig by the pointing statue. Newt turned, and felt a cold dread wash over him.
Grindlewald entered the clearing beside the angel of death. He walked slowly and deliberately into the clearing. Newt was reminded of the footsteps that echoed in the subway tunnel when Grindlewald wore the face of Percival Graves. Nagini fell in behind him, her head down, hands clasped in front of herself. Her body language was submissive. She looked so afraid, and Newt realized that he was wrong earlier. She was never out of Grindlewald's custody. He had somehow managed to impose complete control over her in less than a day.
"Nagini is doing very well, Mr. Scamander. Thank you for your concern. Such a good girl." He turned and smiled fondly at her. "Credence is fine too. Once he learns to control his power, there's no telling what he could do. And might I add, how pleasing it is to me that you and I should meet again so soon. We had so little time to catch up yesterday." The man smiled cordially. There was something cold about the smile.
"I'm glad you think so." Newt watched carefully. He knew from experience that he was no match for Grindlewald in combat dueling. He was better off looking for a distraction.
Grindlewald took a few more steps towards Newt. Newt instinctively stepped back, trying to maintain the space between them. That was when he heard the sound of scraping granite behind him. Something locked onto his arms roughly pulling them back and upward, leaving him incapacitated. The mausoleum statue had been enchanted. Newt had walked right into a trap. His brother was going to be insufferable over this… if he ever got to see Theseus again.
"I know, you don't have much respect for figures of authority, but…" Grindlewald made a slight gesture with his hand and the statue adjust the its grip, forcing Newt to his knees. "There we are," he purred. "It never hurts to show a little deference where it is due. You have to admit there is a sort of symmetry to this moment."
He removed his wand from his sleeve and brandished it. "Accio!" Newt's own wand flew from its place inside his coat and into Grindlewald's open hand. He regarded it for a moment, weighing it in his hand and analyzing its construction, then tossed it aside as though it was worthless. "There you are, on your knees, as helpless as I was in that subway tunnel." He walked up to Newt and crouched in front of him, their faces inches apart. "Shall I tell you what they did to me in New York, after you left? Shall I show you?"
Newt averted his eyes, focusing on a spot to the left of Grindlewald. The blood rushing in his ears sounded like a storm. He was terrified, but he also resented being treated like a pawn on a chessboard.
"I would much prefer you tell me what it is you want with me," he said, irritation coloring his voice. The dark wizard rose and with an almost imperceptible gesture, the statue made another adjustment. Newt groaned. It felt like his arms were being ripped out of their sockets. It was getting hard to breath.
"Manners, Mr. Scamander," he scolded. "You are a puzzle to me. Nothing more. But I have an almost obsessive compulsion to solve puzzles. You lack the courage to look me in the eye, yet you speak to me with contempt, even knowing what I could do to you. You seem incapable of handling the most mundane tasks, but you thrive in situation where most people would crumble. You're a wizard of no great import, who never even finished his schooling. You're a joke to many of your peers, yet the great Albus Dumbledore takes a special interest in you. Why? What's so special about you?"
"As I told you in New York, I really couldn't say. I haven't even spoken to Dumbledore since just after the war. Why are you so concerned about my relationship with old professors?"
Grindlewald bristled slightly at Newt's answer, but he recovered quickly. "Let's call it… curiosity. Dumbledore, like me, only takes that kind of interest in very special people. I must conclude then, that there's more to you than meets the eye."
"There's really not."
Grindlewald sighed and shook his head. "You would like to know what I want, Mr. Scamander? I want you to join me. You succeeded where greater wizards failed. You saw through my deception and you captured me. Your knowledge of magical creatures is prodigious. A man of your skills could be of great use to my cause."
Newt laughed at that, the movement pulling painfully at his arms.
"I know you think me a fanatic, Mr. Scamander, but we are both men of strong principles. We reject authority when we see it is wrong. We are rejected by our own society. I merely want to create a better society… one where people like you and I can be appreciated for our talents. And of course, if you joined me, you would see that your friends, Credence and Nagini are protected. You could help to nurture their skills."
Newt's mind was racing. He considered accepting Grindlewald's offer. It would keep him alive a little bit longer. It might give him a chance to escape. He could find Credence and help both he and Nagini escape. He could put right what went wrong the night before. But Newt was no spy, and he knew it. He wasn't an auror. He was just Newt. And he was a terrible liar.
"Mr. Grindlewald, I am not skilled in deception, so I'll save you the insult to your intelligence. Besides," Newt locked his eyes on Nagini. She was close enough to him now that he could see the tear tracks on her face. He could see she was trembling, even in the darkness. "I think I can see very well from where I am, how Nagini is being treated." She looked up when he mentioned her name. He held her gaze for what seemed like a long time. Her face crumpled into a look of agony and she shook her head from side to side as her whole body seemed to shrink in on itself.
Grindlewald sighed. He closed his eyes in frustration. "That really is a pity. I like you, Mr. Scamander, but I can't have you constantly interfering with my plans. So, what to do with you?" He began to pace in front of Newt as he silently considered his options. Newt's heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. Any minute there would be a flash of green, and it would be all over. Or Maybe Grindlewald would keep him… lock him up in some dark place until he wasted away. Newt tried not to think about it, but he could think of nothing else.
Finally, Grindlewald turned. With a flick of his wand the statue released Newt. He pitched forward face first into the grass, and then quickly scrambled to a crouch. His wand was only a few feet away. Grindlewald turned his back on Newt as if to leave. His mind couldn't make sense of what was happening. It didn't fit.
He was so busy trying to process the fact the Grindlewald was just going to let him go that he almost missed the fact that the dark wizard was speaking. It wasn't English, though.
Parseltongue! Newt's system flooded with adrenalin. Part of him was fascinated. He saw Nagini transform before his eyes. His scientist brain tried to catalogue as much information as possible. The primitive fight or flight part of his brain sent him diving for his wand.
He wasn't fast enough.
The maladictus collided with him with such force that they both went crashing to the ground and rolling to a stop. Shock prevented him from feeling Nagini bite him. It didn't prevent him from feeling the slight shake and then the burning sensation as she envenomated him. He had been bitten by venomous snakes before, some quite dangerous. None of them were quite as dangerous as a maladictus. As far as he knew, no one had ever survived a serpentine maledictus bite. Some years back he had developed an experimental antivenom. It was untested, but the research behind its development was sound. When he realized that Grindlewald had got his hands on a living, breathing maladictus, he made sure to pocket a phial of it.
As the first effects of the venom started to affect him he tried to stave off panic. Slow breathing, slow heart rate, stay calm. Panic would cause the venom to spread faster and staying as calm as possible could be the difference between life and death.
Nagini was wrapped around him so tightly, he could barely move. But he managed to get his left hand into his coat pocket. Inside he had devised an organizational system for potions he wanted to keep on hand, a grid of smaller pockets, sewed into the magically enlarged lining. With shaking fingers, he counted three rows down and four across. They wrapped around a small glass phial. The phial had a raised shape on the glass, a curved line in the shape of a coiled snake. Each phial was stamped with its own unique raised symbol. It was his way of confirming he had the right one without having to read a label. He pulled the phial from his pocket and waited. The trembling in his hands was spreading.
Nagini released her grip on him and uncoiled herself. She returned to her place next to Grindlewald and transformed back into her human form. Her face was pale and miserable and riddled with guilt.
Newt was having trouble breathing, and the burning sensation was intensifying and spreading. He knew that he stood a chance with his antivenom, but the longer he waited to take it, the more his chances went down. Grindlewald was watching him and saying something, but there was a rushing of blood in his ears and couldn't focus on the words. He just wanted Grindlewald to leave!
Through tearing eyes, Newt looked up at Nagini. She was looking back at him. No. Not at him. She was looking at his hand. She saw the phial. He tried to conceal it behind his coat, but it was too late. She locked eyes with him, and for a moment Newt lost all hope. But Nagini didn't tell Grindlewald what she saw. Instead, she seemed to collect her courage. She silently mouthed "I'm sorry" to Newt, and then turned and ran. Grindlewald stopped speaking mid-sentence. He watched her go, a look of confusion and disbelief on his face.
"You will excuse my rudeness, Mr. Scamander, but it seems that I have other matters to attend to." He apparated after the girl.
Quickly, Newt popped the cork out of the phial with his thumb and drank the potion in one gulp. He then considered his options. His symptoms were going to get worse before they got better. On top of that, there were the side effects of the potion he just took. Should he try to find help? He couldn't remember how far he was from the street, and he wasn't sure if he could stand. He shivered as a painful spasm ripped through him. H waited for it to pass. His only other option seemed to be to lay there on the cold ground until the venom worked through his system or killed him. He wasn't sure how long that would be, or whether exposure to the elements would make things critically worse. To make matters worse, he had no idea if Grindlewald would come back to make sure he was dead.
He was getting light headed. The bite wound was bleeding a lot, which was good. It meant less venom in his system to deal with. But combined with the shortness of breath and the burning pain shooting throughout his body and down his limbs, it made it very hard to think. How long had he been lying there? He thought only for a few minutes, but it seemed so much darker and colder now. He was drifting.
He came back to his senses briefly. When was this going to stop hurting, he wondered? He heard voices. They were nearby. French. They were calling out orders. They sounded organized. Aurors, he thought? He forced his eyes open and looked around. It was very dark, but the skies had cleared, and the moon cast a bright light over the clearing. He could see his breath form erratic white puffs in the moonlight. His head dropped to the side. In the light he would see his wand. It was only a few feet away. He reached out with his left hand. "Accio," he croaked. His throat was swollen. His wand shivered and rolled a few inches closer. He tried again. This time it jumped a foot. One more time, he though. With a monumental effort he called his wand the rest of the way. He pointed it into the air and sent sparks into the sky. They were weak, but they were enough.
"Ici," a voice called. Someone knelt down near him. He could hear other voices whispering nearby.
"Mon dieu!"
"Merde!"
"Ou est Scamander et Goldstein? Aller les chercher! Vite!"
Newt tried to stay conscious, but he knew it was a losing battle. Everything hurt. He was gasping for air. All he wanted at that moment was to see Tina or even just hear his brother scolding him, but instead he listened to the French voices fade further and further until there was nothing.