Newt and Tina met Queenie and Jacob in the lobby of St. Mungo's. If Newt had thought that Healer Lockhart was going to whisk Tina away to the long-term care ward, he was sorely mistaken. It had been wonderful that Tina had functioned so well at the hospital, but it also hadn't given the healers the opportunity to see her as she had been for much of the past two months. Lockhart had given them a few mental exercises to do and dismissed them, telling Newt she'd look in on them when they returned for their next appointment with Professor Slughorn. Home visits, hospital appointment—Newt was going to have to find his watch. He hadn't worn it since the last stretch of time when he'd been in London and had been expected to turn up in an office in a timely manner. That had been quite a while ago. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure what his job would look like when he turned up at the Ministry. He hoped he still had one.
Tina walked along beside him, while Newt left Queenie and Jacob to follow behind. It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting. Londoners were leaving work and hustling along the pavement toward their destinations. Finally, Queenie caught up to Newt and spoke.
"I can't make any sense out of your thoughts right now! Where are we headed?"
Newt had been dreading this question, because then he would have to come up with an answer for it. He clamped down on his thoughts so that Queenie would not realize that he'd been making them walk in circles so that he could figure out what on earth he was going to do with them all.
Queenie sounded exasperated, and she balanced one hand on Tina's shoulder so she could massage her heel, which had been crammed into a very fashionable shoe, with the other. Jacob caught up and supported Queenie on the other side.
"I—am still deciding." Newt tried to sound measured and serious. It wouldn't do to let the panic show.
He would dearly love to settle his friends somewhere safe for a few hours while he worked this all out. He'd have cheerfully put them all in his case, except he still hadn't sorted out the erumpent, and he'd need to be there anyway to make certain that Tina hadn't forgotten some crucial part of interacting with the creatures. Hearing the midwife mention that had certainly brought on guilt that he hadn't really stopped to seriously consider what was best for Tina on a day to day basis. He'd been so fixated on meeting with Slughorn and getting her memory restored that Newt had been ignoring the fact that they all had to exist until that could happen.
Though he'd happily taken responsibility for all the creatures in his case—Merlin, for training a whole regiment of dragons during the war!—Newt had always avoided being responsible for people. Now he had three Americans—one injured, one muggle, one legilimens—to shepherd through the Magical World in Britain. And then on the horizon there loomed a new person, a tiny helpless and completely terrifying creature who, unless Theseus had been up to something very unlike his usual self, would be the first of a new generation of Scamanders, and all that went with that.
Newt shuddered. He stopped walking and ushered them all into an alleyway out of sight of the street. He turned away from the others, closed his eyes, ran his hands through his his hair so that it became even more disheveled than usual, and took a deep breath. He turned back to them.
"Grab hold please, yes, Queenie too. I'll sidealong apparate us to a place where we can rest for a little while at least."
"All of us?" asked Tina. "Wow."
"Where?" Queenie asked again, this time more sharply.
"The Leaky Cauldron. It's in Diagon Alley, the Wizarding quarter of London. Right. Everybody got a secure hold?"
Newt held his wand in his right hand and maneuvered his case under the other arm so that he could hold Tina's hand tightly with the other. Jacob clutched his right shoulder and Queenie held onto both Jacob and Newt's left arm where he held his case. They all swirled out of sight.
They reappeared in a distant area of the city, in a different, more unpleasant smelling alleyway. They stepped out onto the street, and Newt saw his friends taking in the differences. The stores were not quite so smart and the sidewalks were not quite so wide as near St. Mungo's. A rickety sign over a narrow door proclaimed that it was in fact, the Leaky Cauldron. Newt stepped up and held the door open to the dim interior.
Jacob, Queenie, and Tina all went inside, and Newt hurried to the bar. A ferocious-looking witch with dark skin and impeccably groomed sweeping eyebrows looked at him with mild inquiry. Her black and lavender robes were a bit newer and cleaner than the typical barkeep. He supposed she had to make up for that with a bit of a fierce demeanor.
"Hullo Aggy," he said. "You still running this place?"
Agatha Brown smiled, looking somewhat less intimidating with her pearly white teeth showing. Aggie had been a year ahead of Newt at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw. No one would have pegged her for a barkeep back then. In fact, she'd left school for a career in finance and had immediately scored big in a deal with some Goblins in Asia. She had returned to England and bought the pub off the previous owner, who had almost run it into the ground despite the regular custom and good reputation. Her work ethic and cash resources had the place looking almost respectable despite the centuries of wear on the place.
"I am, for the time being. You want to buy me out Scamander?"
Newt shook his head furiously.
"Not in a thousand years. But I do have a favor to ask. Do you have any free rooms upstairs?"
"'Free' as in unoccupied or 'free' as in you've got no clink?" One dragon-wing brow rose.
Newt fidgeted. He looked down at the counter. He looked behind him, and thankfully Jacob had sat down a ways away at a rough-hewn wooden table with Queenie, and they were convincing Tina to sit as well. They shouldn't be able to hear him.
"It's just til Gringott's opens tomorrow," he said. "I'll pay you directly. But we've been at the hospital all day since getting off the ship, and now I've missed our chance for the evening."
Aggie looked over at the Americans occupying the table in the back.
"That your wife then, the dark-haired one?"
Newt raised his eyes to meet Aggie's. He wasn't surprised really that she'd put that together. Not if Tillie from the Customs office had been in to gossip.
"Yes," he said shortly. "She's an Auror for MACUSA, and she was injured on duty. I thought she might have needed to stay at St. Mungo's for treatment, but apparently it's not going to begin for a fortnight," he finished miserably, relieved to be unburdening himself to someone he knew wouldn't tell the whole world.
"So you want my 'free' rooms for a fortnight?" Aggie looked unimpressed.
"No—maybe—just let me get to Gringotts and I'll figure it out."
"I'm sure you've got something in there that you can part with," she said, nodding to the case in his hand.
"My niffler has collected a few things, if you would take—" Newt started brightly.
"No way. You'd better be careful, talking like that. You'd get taken in by your own department!" Aggie frowned at him again. "You know those are considered ill-gotten gains."
Newt sighed.
"I'm afraid that's all I've got to offer, at least until things open up tomorrow."
Aggie crossed her arms.
"All right, you can stay. I've got two unoccupied rooms upstairs. I suppose you need dinner and drinks as well?"
Newt nodded.
"I probably have enough to cover that," he began.
Aggie waved this off.
"But I expect payment tomorrow or I'll turn you out. I don't care how adorable your American Auror is." She leaned in. "Has she been up to meet your family, yet?"
Newt shook his head miserably.
"Well, there you are then. Free meals and plenty of room. Surely your Mum is champing at the bit to meet her?"
Newt ran his hand through his hair.
"No, Aggie. I can't—I won't. It's—it's too much. Tina needs a calm, stress-free environment."
"I thought your family place was idyllic?"
Newt made a face.
"The grounds are not the problem. No. It's not the place for Tina right now. And her sister—" Newt looked back over his shoulder.
"And that one, is he her husband?"
"Ye-es." Newt hurried to cover his hesitation. Aggie was sharp. "He's a muggle though."
"I see. And they've escaped overseas so they can be together? Well that's nice. You think your parents wouldn't approve?"
"I neither know, nor care. It isn't relevant." Newt refused to get drawn into the drama. "But I've got to get back to Tina. Thanks so much. You've really saved me here."
Aggie waved him off.
"Go sit down. I'll bring you all some supper."
After eating a plain but satisfying meal and having a quick pint of Aggie's Dragon Stout, a young witch with an apron over her simple robes came to take them all to their room. Newt he helped Tina into one room, and asked Queenie to stay with her. Then he stepped across the hall to the other room, where Jacob was loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top button.
"So what's the plan?" Jacob asked.
Newt ignored him in his haste to place his case and step inside. He hopped down the steps and started rummaging around in one of the drawers under the counter in his shed.
"Whatcha looking for?" Jacob asked. Newt was not surprised that Jacob had followed him, but took a moment to think what to tell him.
"A key," Newt said, holding up an old skeleton type. "But not this one," he added, tossing it back into the drawer. He got out his wand and tried a summoning charm that just served to stir up the junk in his drawer. Newt got up from where he was crouching, sat down on his stool, and placed his forehead flat on the counter. Other than Aggie's charity, very little had gone right since they'd boarded the ship for England.
"What's the key for?" Jacob came over and sat a little ways beside Newt on a crate. Newt turned his head toward Jacob but did not bother to sit up.
"I'm looking for two keys, really, but I think I know where the other is. The one I'm after is for the flat that I'd been sharing with some coworkers. The thing is, though, unless they now have an extra room it won't do us much good since Tina shouldn't be down here. I used to just rent out the linen cupboard, and sleep in my case. It was much more economical than proper lodging, and I'd got used to it. But I thought I should at least go over there and see if Bludger knows of a place we could stay."
"Bludger?" asked Jacob
"Bloomsbury Snicket, really, but with a face like his, well, someone at school said he must have been hit with a bludger as a child, and he thought it was funny. It stuck."
"Hilarious."
Jacob shuddered and looked up at the faded Chudley Cannons poster tacked to the wall that had led Newt to describe the game of quiddich. It hadn't gone very well. Jacob was horrified at the idea of balls charmed to hurl themselves at the players. He claimed he'd had nightmares about inanimate objects attacking him as a kid, and it was unsettling to discover that sometimes they actually did. Perhaps there'd be time to see an actual match if they were going to be here for an extended amount of time.
"And what's the other key for?" asked Jacob.
Newt pushed up off the counter and stepped across to the little chest of drawers where he kept his clothes and personal things. This search was more fruitful. He picked up his little key to vault eleven-oh-two off of the tray on top of the chest and held it up. He'd had it since becoming employed at an earlier age than most wizards, and as such, it was meaningful to him.
"Gringotts vault key," said Newt. "It's like a bank. But very different from the one where I met you. More goblins."
Jacob raised a brow. "I dunno about that. Mr. Bingley and Gnarlak seemed to have a couple things in common."
Newt chuckled. "Yes, well, Gringotts is run entirely by actual goblins. It's considered a bit of a wonder in London, not least because goblins don't have right of open passage in most of western Europe anymore, so outside of designated magical zones, all of them have to remain concealed at all times. How they travel is still a bit of a mystery to most of us. You'll enjoy seeing it."
Newt almost dropped his Gringotts key into his coat pocket, when a thought struck him. He tucked the vault key behind his ear and started pulling out everything from his coat pockets and dumping it all on the tray. It was mostly odds and ends, little bits of paper, jars of ointment that he needed for various creatures' various ailments, pencils, quills, a few library books that he'd never got round to returning, a humane murtlap trap—
"I usually try to ignore this stuff," Jacob cut in, "but that is going too far. How in the world did you fit all that junk in your pockets?"
Newt smiled, and continued to turn out his pockets.
"How did I fit all this into a small leather suitcase?" he returned.
"Yeah, how?" Jacob pressed.
Newt blew out a breath through his nose. He was getting down to it and he still hadn't found the key to Bludger's flat. At this rate he'd just have to turn up and knock, and that would not present quite the same returning-home feeling he wanted to project.
"I'm not entirely sure how to explain it to a muggle. I'm sorry, it's nothing against you, but the charms themselves are quite advanced, so it would be difficult to even explain completely to a very young witch or wizard who doesn't have experience with the way charms and transfiguration intersect."
Newt glanced at Jacob, and saw a determined set to his chin. He was not going to just give up on this.
"Hmm. Well, let's just pretend you understand all the technical aspects, and I'll take you through the procedure. You start with an object, a coat, or a case. Sometimes objects are produced with extradimensionality in mind—the coat may have been, I don't know. I didn't do it myself, it was a birthday gift. But I did the case. I started with a case—granted, it was already made of dragon-hide, disguised to look like ordinary leather—but it was just a case, with the same interior volume one would expect in a similar case—yours, for example.
"Then, one takes the boundaries of the space within, and kind of, well, inflates them. Practically, this involves some calculations so that you still have boundaries—it wouldn't do to create infinite space within your case, or all your animals would just wander off and never be seen again. And from a philosophical standpoint, would you have enlarged the space at all, or just have opened a portal to an entirely new place?"
Newt glanced over at Jacob, whose face was scrunched up like he was trying very hard not to let his eyes glaze over.
"But that is a digression. In any case, naming the boundaries is crucial. The furthest points must all connect, so that the space inside has volume just as it always did. You've moved the points, so it's bigger!"
Newt thought that had been a decently constructed explanation, but a glance at Jacob showed it hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped for. Newt groped in the bottom of his right hand pocket and came up with the Yale Lock key that opened Bludger's place. He held it up triumphantly.
"Well, I'm off," he said. "If you wouldn't mind, Jacob, making sure that the graphorns have enough fodder for the night?"
"You don't want us to come with you?"
Newt shifted away.
"It'll be simpler if I can do this on my own. If I'm successful, well, you'll meet them all in the morning!"
"Okay…" said Jacob. "Just tell Queenie where you're going, ok? So she doesn't worry."
Newt didn't exactly nod, just ascended the stair. When he reached the hall between the bedrooms above the Leaky Cauldron he paused. He could hear Tina's voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying. Queenie seemed to be answering her. Newt tried to shield his thoughts so she wouldn't know he was there. It was exhausting being around a legilimens. For most of their acquaintance he hadn't had anything on his mind that he wanted to keep from her, but now that they were in a place that was constantly churning up memories, connections, and other people's private business it seemed both uncomfortable and unfair to have all that exposed to Queenie. A stray thought also might give her quite the wrong idea about how things were here, and he did not want her worrying Tina with things that were better left alone.
He felt vaguely guilty, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything to Queenie. With any luck, he'd be back before she noticed he was gone. With that, he checked the wards, found he could do so, and apparated himself to the attic of a fashionable block of muggle flats known as Twickenham Towers. The crisp stone exterior rose up for seven stories and was capped with a spacious attic. This had been appropriated by Bludger Snicket and transformed into a handsome penthouse with rooms enough to let out to wizards of Bludger's social set. Though he'd been in Hufflepuff, sons of the old wizarding families from all the houses had lived in the residence at one time or another. Newt just barely qualified for a linen closet, but as he was rarely at home and very little trouble, they let him in due to his family connections.
The quiet in the corridor gave Newt a bad feeling as he turned the key in the familiar brass lock. Sure enough, he opened the door and saw that the "penthouse" had been abandoned, as nothing was left to suggest it had ever been anything other than a storage space for the staff of the building below. Crates and old trunks were stacked where their kitchen used to be. Ah well. It wasn't as if it was the best place for Tina, and certainly wouldn't do as a place for 'home visits' from a midwife, but Bludger was another wizard who Newt might have counted on to look after his friends while he sought out some alternative space. Newt sighed, and a little shimmer next to the door caught his eye as he exhaled. He blew on it again, and a little plaque materialized.
It read: "If trying to reach Messers Crabbe, Pomfrey, Sage-Westley and Snicket, please inquire at 38B Diagon Alley East."
This sort of calling card, only responsive to the breath of a magic-user, was fairly common in old wizarding families, who had to keep their correspondence from muggles. However, it was generally considered to be rather elitist as squibs and other family members would be unable to read it. Annoyed, Newt apparated back to Diagon Alley. The new apartment was quite a ways down the street in the opposite direction from the Leaky Cauldron. It was to the east of Gringotts, which dominated the central portion of the street. Still, a flat here had to cost an astronomical amount of gold in rent. One of the four at least must have come into his money.
Newt knew the area well, and had only to walk down a block to the entryway from where he'd apparated. He rang the bell, then immediately regretted doing so. Did he really think the rather gormless Bludger would be able to help him look after his friends?
Above him, someone threw up the window sash. Newt saw Bludger Snicket's goodnatured face appear above him.
"Scamander! I heard you were back in the country!"
"That's not all I heard!" called someone else from inside.
"Hush you, you'll scare him off!" said Bludger over his shoulder.
"I just saw your card at the Twickenham flat. But I see you've moved on to bigger and better things," Newt said. "I ought to leave you to your evening." It was foolish of him to have followed up on the change of address. What on earth was there to be gained by looking up these chaps, who barely qualified as friends? No, it would be better to get back to his case, figure out what he could sell, and try to raise enough money the next day to visit the rental agency.
"Nonsense! Get up here and let's take a look at you," Bludger insisted.
Newt thought again of his friends, waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, of Tina's half-hopeful, half-mistrustful dependency, of Jacob's unease and Queenie's determination to pry their next steps out of his head. The specter of a baby rose up in his mind. That was far too much for him to handle just now. He turned toward the door of the building and it opened before him. He went inside.
The residence of Messers Crabbe, Pomfrey, Sage-Westley, and Snicket looked as though a strong gale had just gone through. All the books were on the floor, the pictures had fallen from the walls and most of the highly polished black and white art deco furniture lay on its sides. A put-upon house elf was struggling to set everything to rights. Bludger met Newt at the door with a sheepish smile.
"Sorry for the mess. Quentin Travers is over, and he's been showing us his improved Tempest in a Teacup charm."
He indicated the lone white bone china teacup that sat on the floor in the eye of the chaos that affected the rest of the room.
"Looks like it might still need further improvement," Newt muttered.
"Ha! Yes, it does!" Bludger seized Newt by the arm and dragged him into the flat, which was fuller than Newt had previously realized of wizards he had been at school with. After a moment of becoming accustomed to it, Newt began to be able to pick them out of the mess. Martin Pomfrey waved cheerfully at Newt from where he sat perched on top of a bookshelf that had fallen on its side. He must have fixed his suit and tie, but his fair hair stuck up at all angles and his glasses were askew.
"Hullo Newt!" he called. "Good to see you! You know Cyril and Clarence, of course, but I'm not sure you ever knew Quentin."
He indicated a wizard in muggle evening dress who was crouched on the floor, examining the teacup. His dark hair also stood on end, but it was not quite so long as Martin's, so slicking it back with his hand managed to return it to being fashionable.
"I can't understand it. This time the tempest hit everywhere but the teacup! I never was much of a hand at these fiddly little spells." He sat up, looking peeved.
"Pleased to meet you," said Newt.
The dark-haired man finally glanced at him, then sprang up and extended his hand. "Oh! Newt Scamander! I didn't realize—my name is Quentin—Quentin Travers. Fancy meeting you here! I'm supposed to go up to Blethering House for the Christmas hols, you know. Theseus asked a few of us up."
"Ah," said Newt, shaking his hand. Perhaps it was good that he'd stopped by after all. He'd had no intention of taking Tina to his parents' home, but now that there would be visitors it was imperative that they stay well away from the place. He absolutely had to raise the funds to get out of this situation. There had to be a few Occamy eggshells that he'd tucked away somewhere.
"Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves," Newt said politely.
Before Quentin could respond, Cyril Sage-Westley appeared from the kitchen, clutching a bottle of something that he had evidently saved from the gale. He was a small wizard, with pale skin and light brown hair that fell limply to either side of his face whenever it had escaped pomade-enforced confinement on the top of his head. He was also in muggle evening dress. They must have gone out earlier, or have been planning to go out again later.
"Oh please, don't let's talk any more about anything so grand as the Lord Warden. I need a little fortification after that last misfire." Cyril waved his wand, and glasses arrived from the cabinets in the kitchen. He set the bottle to pouring into each of them. Newt took the one hovering before him out of politeness.
"Thanks," said Newt. It might not be a bad thing to take the edge off of his nerves. He'd had more thrown at him that day than he was able to process immediately, and at the moment the prospect of forgetting it all for a few hours was enticing. These chaps might not be much of a help as far as finding him respectable home-visit-ready housing, but they were first class as a distraction.
He took a sip, expecting champagne from the bubbles rising from the deep amber liquid, only to give a choking gasp as he realized it was far stronger. Cyril giggled at his reaction.
"It's fizzing whisky! The Chancey Sisters opened a distillery last year and this is one of the first batches. It's a bit weird but it certainly does the job!"
Newt coughed again and took another sip of the dark, almost red, fizzy liquor. It wasn't bad, now that he was more prepared. He looked around. He knew Bludger and Martin fairly well since they had been only a year ahead of him in Hufflepuff. Cyril had been in Ravenclaw, but he'd confessed some years before his regret that held resisted being sorted into Hufflepuff. Newt couldn't recall what house Quentin Travers had been in, since he was a couple years younger.
"Bubbly, Clarence?" Cyril asked, sending a glass over to the edge of the chaos.
Clarence Crabbe's substantial bulk sat heavily in an armchair in the corner smoking a cigarette as if he wished heartily that the rest of them weren't there. He grunted, and Cyril must have taken that as assent, because the glass made its way to Clarence's meaty hand. Newt had always found it odd that the surly Slytherin got on so well with Bludger, but they had roomed together since taking jobs in the Department of Magical Games and Sports after a short stint as teammates on the Wimbourne Wasps. Both had been beaters whose main asset was being built like bricks at a time when their opponents at school had been scrawny teenagers, so despite impressive records at Hogwarts, neither had turned out to be much of an asset to the team. When their initial contracts were up neither of them were renewed. Bludger's dad was able to get him started at the Ministry, and somehow Clarence had got in too.
Bludger waved his wand, and the white leather sofa set itself to rights. He and Cyril sat down, and Newt perched on the arm at the opposite end.
"So you've returned from New York?" Bludger asked. "Of course you have—"
"Wait!" Cyril said, holding up his hand. "Where's his case?"
They all looked around for it.
"Have you lost it?" Martin asked, coming down off the bookshelf. "Is that why you've turned up? Do you want me to do a finding spell for you?"
"No, the case is fine," Newt hurried to assure them. He was realizing that this was unlikely to have been the first bottle of fizzing whisky that evening and he didn't want the others to charge tipsily out onto the street in search of his case.
"A friend is looking after it for me."
"A friend?" said Bludger leadingly, now beaming from ear to ear.
"Or this American witch you're supposed to have married?" asked Cyril bluntly.
Newt looked around at the others. Quentin Travers had pulled up an armchair, and looked as interested in the rest at this. Even Clarence had stopped puffing and was looking up at him expectantly.
"My brother-in-law is looking after it for me," Newt said simply. This would be true, if Jacob actually was his brother-in-law and not scandalously unmarried to his wife's sister.
"So it's true!" Quentin Travers exclaimed. "I thought it must have been a rumour, since I'd just seen Theseus yesterday, and he hadn't said a word."
Newt looked at him oddly. In his experience, Theseus rarely spoke of either of his younger siblings, preferring to keep the conversation centered around his far more impressive self and the grand position he occupied. Newt took another drink and realized glumly that Quentin was likely to repeat whatever he said to Theseus. The sooner he left the better. But then they'd wonder why he came.
Ah well, he might as well ask.
"I've got to get back in a moment in fact," he said. "But we need a place to rent, and I thought I'd ask if you knew of anywhere. I'd like to stay in London, but I need a place for the four of us that's convenient to the Magical districts."
"Hmm," said Bludger. "I can't think of anything off the top of my head. There's a place our landlord owns, across the street, but it'll likely be a significant lease, cash up front."
Newt shifted. "I'm looking for a more flexible situation," he said.
"Sorry old boy, it's a bit of a housing crunch right now," said Cyril. "As you noticed our squatting didn't go over well with the Ministry and we were evicted. Mercifully Martin's great-uncle popped off and left him a bundle of gold, or we'd have never got this place. But unless they find a way to enlarge the wizarding quarter significantly, the Ministry is going to have to contend with more and more cases like ours. There is simply not enough muggle-proof housing in town, and with all these new restrictions on broomstick travel since muggles have gone wild for aero-planes or whatever they call them, more of us than ever need to live in London."
Bludger waved all this off, pointing his wand at the remainder of the hovering bottle of fizzing whisky and pouring it into Newt's mostly-empty glass.
"We'll keep an ear out for you, but there's more important things to discuss. Tell us about this American you've married!"
"She is a witch, and not a sphinx or something?"
"Cyril!" admonished Martin. "That's not very nice."
"Well, with Scamander you never know. I can't remember him looking twice at a girl," said Cyril.
"That's not true," defended Martin, "Didn't you know about Leda—"
"Tina is an auror," Newt blurted, not wanting Martin to go any further with reminiscences of something that Newt still found painful to think about.
"An auror?" asked Quentin. "Someone Theseus knows? He's been in close contact with the MACUSA aurors lately."
"No," said Newt sharply. "They are unacquainted, completely unconnected, and damned if I'm not going to do my best to keep it that way!"
An uncomfortable pause ensued. Newt took another hasty drink before thinking the better of it. He held the glass up to the light, examining the bubbling liquid in his glass suspiciously. He'd never before been an angry drinker. Perhaps he was having some sort of reaction to the liquor.
Martin looked between Newt and Quentin, whose mouth was open as if he could not fathom anyone having such a negative reaction to a connection with the exalted Theseus Scamander.
"You may not have realized, Quentin, since you've only been Theseus Scamander's secretary for a few months, but the brothers are not close," Martin said quietly.
Quentin looked so crushed and abashed that Newt immediately felt awful. Of course, a young underling impressed by the power of the office. And Theseus always managed to inspire awe. Newt took out his wand and banished the rest of his drink.
"Please forgive me, I think the fizzing whisky didn't agree with me. It's been a long and trying day."
He rose from his seat.
"Bludger, please let me know if you hear of any flats that might suit," he said.
Bludger got up, waving his wand and righting the rest of the furniture the house elf had not yet got to. With another flick the liquor cabinet opened.
"No, please, it's been ages since we've seen you, and my sister made me promise to ask about your next book when I saw you. Sit, we have some first-class gin that's bound to do you good if the fizzing stuff's bothering you."
"Yes, please don't go," said Cyril. "We were all supposed to go to a party tonight, but it's been canceled, so we need to entertain ourselves for the evening."
"Tell us, did you ever find that brain-eating lizard you'd been searching for in Africa?" asked Martin.
Newt hesitated. It would be best to go back to the Leaky Cauldron. Tina ought to be asleep, but surely Queenie had missed him by now. Queenie. His heart sank, thinking of how horrified she'd looked earlier when she'd discovered from the midwife that Tina was pregnant. If he went home now, she was sure to question him about it, and after all that fizzying whisky there was no way he'd be able to hide his complete and utter terror from her. It would be better to wait a while, and sitting with these silly fellows who had no idea of his troubles was a better prospect than pacing around Diagon Alley in the cold and dark.
"Well, perhaps I could stay, just for a moment," Newt said.
"Excellent!" said Bludger, pouring him another drink. "Tell us about your latest travels!"
A/N: Here's another full chapter. I hope you enjoy! I will mention that more frequent updates are available if you follow along on tumblr. Thanks so much for reading and especially for commenting!