Newt blinked his eyes against the bright light of the drapes being opened onto a sunny day.
He rolled over and pressed his face into the warmth next to him. Newt couldn't recall much of how he'd gotten where he was, but his head was spinning, so he stayed quiet and slowly took stock of his situation. He tried opening his eyes, but that did not go well, as sickness suddenly flooded his gut. So he breathed in and out, gathering what he could without sight to aid him. His cheeks pinked as he realized that the warm figure he was snuggling was definitely Tina. He could tell that from the scent alone. She both smelled and felt very different from every other creature he had ever fallen asleep next to. He had no memory of getting into bed with her, but hopefully she wasn't upset. From the way she had draped her arm across his chest, hope filled him that she had accepted this.
Despite the cozy hopeful feelings, Newt was troubled by a dawning awareness. At first it was just a mild discomfort, but it grew, until it was all he could think about. If Tina was in the bed asleep with him, then who had opened the drapes? Merlin, but he could feel the sunlight creeping past his shut eyelids and burning his brain. It hurt.
"Good," came a high, curt voice.
Newt's eyes sprang open and he gingerly sat up. Tina, not asleep after all, looked up at him from her pillow, quiet but concerned in pajamas and a terrycloth robe. She'd been laying on the bed over the covers while he'd been tucked under them. Newt tried to speak to her, but his throat felt as if a thousand sand snails were scritching around in it.
Queenie stood fully dressed by the window, hand on her hip and tapping the toe of her gold T-strapped shoe against the floorboard. At first glance she seemed nervous, her brow furrowed. Then she saw him looking and straightened, hardening her expression. Newt blinked, and tried for occlumeny. It seemed hopeless. He turned instead to Tina, who was moving from where she'd been lying next to him. She gave him a sad little look, but got up off the bed and stood behind her sister. Newt steeled himself to face Queenie's wrath.
"Where were you last night?" asked Queenie, after a long moment where Newt swore he could feel her tugging at his mental defenses.
Newt's head throbbed, independent of the mental invasion. It turned out that the gin had not been an ideal antidote to the fizzing whisky. Though it had improved his spirits, allowing him to enjoy an evening of games and tall tales, it had left him completely toasted. Ignoring Queenie, he looked to where Tina stood behind her sister. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, and her dark eyes made her skin look milky white. Even in a bathrobe she was beautiful. But he was not to get any sympathy from that quarter either.
"Yeah, where were you?" she echoed, arms crossing over her chest.
They were sisters, after all, and even though Queenie was a little more morally flexible than Tina, they both seemed to draw the line ahead of stumbling home drunk and waking hung-over in a bed he had no business being in.
Newt sighed and hung his head.
"I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you. I…actually don't remember how I ended up in this room. Do you know?"
He finished in a small voice. The realization that he couldn't account for his entrance was a little bewildering.
When he looked up, Tina seemed to be smothering a smile. Newt flushed, but was grateful that she found some humor in the situation. Queenie, however, looked even more furious. She turned, and waved her wand at Tina's toiletry case. Fresh clothes for the day folded themselves up on top.
"Tina, the washroom's down the hall. You'd better get dressed."
"But Queenie—"
"Go!"
Newt thought for sure Tina was going to put up a fight at this treatment, but after a brief flash of anger in her eye she sunk back away from both of them.
Queenie stepped toward her.
"I'm sorry for yelling," she said. "But you and I both know this is serious. There's things you can't remember, and I gotta take care of you. You'd do the same for me, right?"
Tina frowned, but nodded and left the room without looking back to where Newt sat, fully dressed and incredibly rumpled, on the narrow bed. As soon as the door shut Queenie snapped back to Newt.
"And now you, mister. What do you got to say for yourself, coming home drunk and singing like a loon at three in the morning?"
Newt winced. A very hazy picture of this event was forming in his mind. He began to recall pleading with Tina to just let him sleep on the floor next to her. She must have relented and put him in the bed.
"I'm so—so sorry." Newt decided there was nothing for it but to tell her the truth. "I used to room with some fellows that I'd been at school with, and I went to see them to find out about flats."
"Huh. So that's the kind of guys you hung out with?"
"They're not bad chaps. Just a little…rambunctious…"
"You don't have your own place then? We were all so focused on Tina I never really asked where we were going to stay. I guess I trusted that you would have had it figured out." Queenie bit her lip.
Ouch. Newt squirmed at the sting of this comment on his failure as a host and a husband.
"Are we going to stay here over the pub?" she asked.
Newt sighed. He rubbed his temples. Queenie took pity on him and a wave of coolness washed over his muzzy head.
"Oh, thank you," he sighed with relief.
Queenie sniffed.
"It's just so I can get some straight answers out of you. Now tell me straight: what's your plan for finding a place to live while we're here?"
"I…I've been trying to make one. I've got to visit Gringotts, the bank here, and then I'll need to see a few people, and then we can go to Ravi Renfeld's Rentals and see what flats might be available. Aggie's unlikely to turn us out of the Leaky Cauldron right away, but we can't have the—that woman—visiting here."
Queenie nodded slowly, and Newt was certain she understood him but was not yet ready to broach that subject.
"Why can't you just look in the nomaj paper for a place to stay?"
Newt half-smiled. "Would that it were so easy. We have extensive regulations in Britain about the conditions under which witches and wizards can live in muggle areas. Legal residences have to be inspected for muggle-proofing. It would take ages to perform all the charms necessary to fix up a place on our own." He frowned. "And the attendant inspection fees are out of our reach right at the moment. Of course there are plenty of people who just risk it, but under the circumstances that seems like asking for trouble."
"Then where are people supposed to live?" Queenie looked confused. And well she might, since in New York witches and wizards merely fit themselves into houses and flats directly beside their muggle neighbors.
"We have to live in approved Magical Districts. Diagon Alley is the largest of these. But as I learned last night, there's a housing crunch right now."
"Should we go somewhere else?" Queenie asked. "Leave London?"
Newt rubbed his head and got unsteadily to his feet. Queenie's spell had relieved the pain for a few moments, but he could already feel it seeping back.
"I shouldn't like to. Please give me the day, Queenie, and we'll see what's what at the end of it. I'll need to make an appearance at the Ministry when they open up tomorrow, so there's no sense leaving town until I've spoken with the Minister." Newt brightened. "Who knows, perhaps he'll grant us diplomatic housing."
Queenie looked skeptical. Then she shook her head and flicked her wand, straightening the bedsheets and then moving on to his clothes. Her frown deepened, and finally she stopped.
"Newt, did you know? Did you leave me with Tina, knowing that she was gonna have a baby?"
Newt blinked. "No! No, Queenie, you of all people must have seen how shocked I was. I had absolutely no inkling until Healer Lockhart called me back into the examination room and told me yesterday. I would never have kept that from you."
"How should I know? Ever since we got here you've been shutting me out! Even a few times on the steamer over here. Why are you closing off your thoughts if you've got nothing to hide?" Tears were rolling down Queenie's cheeks, and Newt felt awful. He fumbled around in his pocket for a clean handkerchief and passed it to Queenie.
"Oh goodness, no! I had no idea that Tina was—is—" Newt stopped himself and took a deep breath. "I was so surprised you could have knocked me over with a feather. I brought Tina here because I believed we could do something about her memory damage, and if I'd known she was pregnant I would never have suggested experimental treatment. Fortunately Slughorn gave his word that anything he gives her will have no side effects."
Queenie still looked troubled. Newt sighed and dropped back down to sit on the edge of the bed. Wizards had invented many hangover cures, but none that he had ever come across had truly done the job. He wasn't accustomed to heavy drinking, so had never really researched them extensively. Perhaps another hour or two of sleep would do the trick. But Queenie wasn't going to leave until he'd answered her other question. Newt looked up at her.
"It's true that I've been working on improving my occlumency. I can't let you read my thoughts indiscriminately anymore. Before, there was nothing on my mind that I couldn't share with you. Now I see an old schoolmate, or a friend of my parents', and anything I might know about them could filter through my mind, even if it was hearsay, even if it was told to me in confidence. I've asked you in the past to stay out of my thoughts, but you yourself told me it wasn't always possible for you. It's not fair to all those people to air their dirty laundry."
"Air their laundry?" Queenie sounded affronted. "It's just me! It's not like I'm going to tell anybody!"
Her breath caught, and her eyes widened.
"There's something particular, isn't there? It's something about your family."
Newt groaned and rubbed his eyes. Exhausted and hung over was exactly the worst time to be practicing his shoddy occlumency with a natural legillimens. This was going too far. He opened his eyes, and tried to look suitably grave.
"You're not wrong. I'd wager you'll find that most old families here have accrued some motheaten books of secrets they don't want anyone else to know about. My father and now my brother have certain duties that they take very seriously and that involve oaths of secrecy. But none of that's anything to do with me. All I'm sworn to do is act as a redundancy and not tell anybody about it. Honestly, there's absolutely no way that a bunch of outdated state secrets could possibly matter to us here and now in our situation. But at the same time, I've promised not to disclose them."
He shrugged to lighten the moment, but he hoped she realized the awkward position her talents put him in.
Queenie pursed her lips.
"Why don't you wash up? I'll tell Jacob to get ready to go. It's already midmorning, and it sounds like you've got a full day planned."
She bustled around, straightening Tina's suitcase, which had somehow made its way into the room.
Newt dropped back down on the bed, but as soon as he'd closed his tired eyes, Queenie clapped her hands loudly in front of his face.
"Tina's out of the bathroom, so it's your turn. Get up! Time's a-wasting."
Newt tried for his most pitiful kicked-puppy expression, but Queenie only strode out of the door, leaving it conspicuously open. He screwed up all his willpower and got off the bed. There really was a lot to do, and he didn't want to end the day feeling as much of a failure as he did at the moment.
Newt hurried through feeding the creatures that morning, and reappeared downstairs to meet the others for a quick meal, which turned out to be an early luncheon, since he'd slept straight through most of the morning. There was no sign of Aggie, which was unfortunate, since Newt had hoped to ask her about flats to let, and also about any traders in rare creatures who might have come through. The young witch who had initially shown them to their rooms brought out their food and tactfully murmured to Newt that it had been placed on his tab. He could only hope that their rooms for tonight would be included and that by the following morning he'd have enough to pay.
Queenie had been chilly toward Newt and fussy toward Tina, insisting that she eat all of her stew and drink copious amounts of water. She had somehow got hold of the list of instructions that Midwife Moon-Leanfear had given him. Newt cursed himself for piling everything so haphazardly when he'd turned out his pockets. Queenie had now read enough to quote passages directly to her sister. Tina's patience seemed to be wearing thin, but Newt didn't want to start anything with Queenie. It was a relief when they all rose and started out the door toward Gringotts. Jacob was having trouble with the whole concept of a goblin-run bank.
"Are you sure they're gonna be open on a Sunday?" he asked.
"Goblins don't follow the standard Western conventions, so one simply has to learn their ways." Newt hadn't actually learned all that much about goblins, but he did know that their business hours were conveniently later in the day than muggle banks, and that there was no day of the week that did not seem to goblins like a good day of the week for engaging in financial activities.
"Huh," said Tina. "That's the way it was in New York too. Goblins kept to their own calendar, though we never let them get so far as making their own bank! That seems a little risky."
Newt's ears pricked up at this. Tina had done much of her work undercover in goblin-run establishments, making it sound like she was recalling a part of her more recent history. Yet he couldn't afford to get his hopes up every time she uncovered a glimmer of her adult experiences. And honestly, returning memory or not, Newt needed to secure lodgings for all of them, by tomorrow at the earliest. Still, it put him in a better frame of mind. They got to the gleaming columns and ascended into the vast lobby. Newt tried to encourage his friends to look around a bit, but they stuck somewhat annoyingly close. At last when Newt was called up, they gave him a small amount of space.
Newt stepped up alone and handed the key to his vault up to a teller whose nameplate read: Snorkshank, Assistant to the Regulator. After consulting his ledger, the goblin snorted.
"That vault has remained empty for six months now, and has been earmarked for closure. Do you wish to proceed and terminate the account?" asked Snorkshank.
"No! Certainly not," Newt grimaced, ashamed at how far his finances had sunk. He must have wired more funds to the States than he'd realized. He'd been independent from a young age, starting work at the Office for House Elf Relocation after his expulsion in the autumn of his sixth year. He'd sworn then that he would take no further help—that he was going to do things his way or not at all. Yet now, with Tina standing behind him, pregnant with their child, he was willing to swallow his pride and do something that he had never before even considered. He cleared his throat and leaned up to speak directly to the unimpressed Snorkshank.
"Look, I know I haven't applied for it since I've been eligible, but isn't there anything else put aside for me? I believe there is a sum that was kept in trust, but the balance should be available by now." He looked down at his shoes. He had never asked whether or not his parents had changed the terms after his expulsion. He looked back up. "It was there was at one point anyway."
The goblin looked down at Newt through spectacles perched halfway down his exceptionally long nose.
"Hmm." He crossed his arms. "Full name," Snorkshank demanded.
Looking nervously over his shoulder at his friends who were still peering about interestedly, Newt took a step closer until he was pressed right against the high desk. He set his case down.
"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander," he said quickly.
"Eh? What was that?" the goblin asked, holding his hand to his ear impatiently.
"NEWTON ARTEMIS FIDO SCAMANDER," Newt said loudly.
"Scamander? Well, well. Let me look."
The goblin left his seat to go into the back room.
"Fido?" asked Jacob from behind them. "Like, a dog?"
"Uh, I think it means 'faithful'," said Queenie.
"So, like a dog," said Jacob.
Tina sounded puzzled. "Isn't Artemis the goddess of the hunt?" she asked.
"No, I thought she was like, the moon," said Queenie.
"Isn't that Selene?"
"I don't know, I can never remember all that ancient wizarding history stuff," said Queenie.
Newt sighed. While wizards and witches were well known for their eccentric nomenclature when compared with Muggles, from what he'd witnessed the magical community in the States didn't have quite the same flair for the unusual. He pretended not to hear the discussion.
Snorkshank returned after a bit with another huge ledger, secured with a special seal. He called into a trumpet-like instrument by his side for a manager, who finally appeared and pressed a signet ring from around her neck onto the seal.
After paging through the volume for several minutes, Snorkshank spoke.
"Aha. Yes, there is a tidy sum held by the bank for you."
Newt sank a little with relief. His parents hadn't terminated his trust after all. And a tidy sum to a goblin should be quite enough to rent a flat—maybe even enough for a house in the magical quarter.
"But there are a number of contingencies," Snorkshank continued. "Have you reached your twenty-seventh year?"
"Yes," Newt said, hoping he could satisfy all of the contingencies so easily.
"Are you gainfully employed?"
"Yes."
"Have you undergone a major life event within the past six months? Examples include death of a parent, birth of a child, induction into the Order of Merlin, marriage—"
"Ha! Yes! Marriage!"
Snorkshank turned the page and adjusted his spectacles.
"Are your parents living?"
This one shook Newt a little. But surely, he reassured himself, surely someone would have notified him if anything had happened.
"Yes."
Snorkshank's crooked finger slid down on the page. Newt dearly wished he could see it for himself.
"Have you had tea with your mother within the past three months?"
"Um, no."
Snorkshank leaned back and shut the book with a slam. The seal resettled with a swooshing sound.
Newt stared blankly. "But—but I've been out of the country!"
"Sorry, there are no further contingencies. Come back after you can satisfy conditions and we can continue."
"What are the next contingencies?"
Snorkshank snorted.
"Nice try, boyo. You only learn them once you get through them. That's how it works for everyone."
Newt ran his hands through his hair. So close—he'd been so close!
"Any further business?" Snorkshank asked.
"No," Newt said morosely.
"Next!" called Snorkshank.
Newt took up his case and slunk outside, not waiting for the others. He had leaned his face against the freezing marble of a column when Jacob approached.
"Hey buddy, cheer up. I don't understand what all those questions were about, but a little tea can't be so bad, right? If you need money in the meantime, I brought a little for travel expenses—"
Newt straightened. He smiled ruefully at his friend.
"The exchange rate for muggle money is awful right now. Let's save it for emergencies." He dusted of his coat and hefted his case. They rejoined Tina and Queenie who had been standing a little to the side. Newt smiled reassuringly.
"This was just the first stop. I've got a few more prospects to explore before the day is through," he said. "Let's get started."
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. Newt had a few more easily-harvested potion ingredients prepared to sell at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary and a couple of rare birds that the proprietors of Eeylops Owlery dealt in on the side. While Newt was nowhere near the sum he'd hoped to have by the end of the day, he had enough sickles and knuts rattling in his pockets to send Jacob Queenie and Tina to Tierney's Tea Shoppe while he went and had a quick look-in at the rental agency.
Since it was a Sunday, there was no one in Ravi Renfeld's Rental Office, but still Newt stepped up to the plate glass window covered in adverts, waved his wand, and inquired aloud about the property that Bludger had mentioned the night before. The printed notices rearranged themselves to give him the information he sought. The pictures of the interior looked lovely, showing a large living space and three bedrooms. Newt scanned the notice for the price. His stomach dropped when he saw it. Forty galleons! Per month! Newt tried not to gnaw on the tip of his wand in agitation. That place must be a palace! He quickly tried to guess how much Bludger, Martin and the others were paying for a place with an additional room. Far more than his pitiful salary could ever support, that's for certain.
Newt walked back up to Diagon Alley from the rental agency toward the tea shop, but was surprised by Aggie, who shouted him down as he passed the Leaky Cauldron.
"I have the money," he blurted. "For the rooms."
Aggie waved this off.
"I'm glad to hear it. But I've had some late additions to a party that's here for a special meeting. I'll be needing those rooms you're in vacated in the morning. There's some sort of love potion conference, and I've got witches from every corner of the globe arriving tomorrow expecting lodging for their whole party. I've had to do a temporary expansion charm, and goodness knows what I'll do if it doesn't hold."
Newt started to protest—to beg for a cupboard to put his case in at least—but Aggie stopped herself.
"But that's not what I wanted to tell you. Tunsten Tuggley was in today. He said he'd heard that you turned up and he wanted to see you about acquiring some rare stock. He seemed very pleased to hear you were about."
Newt wrinkled his nose. Tunsten Tuggley was a rare animal dealer that he'd done business with once or twice in the past. Since Newt prized conservation over profit, he didn't generally have much to say to the man. But he'd spent a frustrating day scrounging for cash, and now they were about to be turned out of the Leaky Cauldron, so it would be foolish to let this opportunity pass him by.
"Well, I guess I'd better see what he wants then. Did he say where to find him?"
"He said he'd be back later on this evening."
"All right. I'll be in shortly."
Newt went to collect Tina, Queenie, and Jacob from Tierney's. He looked longingly at the extradimensional cream puffs—more filling that you expect!—but decided to wait until later to eat. He'd do better to conserve all their funds if they were going to have to scrounge for lodging the following day.
His friends had settled down into a corner table of the shop where Jacob and Queenie sat with empty teacups before them. Tina was frowning at her water glass and looking a little less present than she'd been for most of the past two days. Newt sat next to her.
"Everything all right, Tina?" he asked.
She looked at him, startled by his sudden appearance. The blank look slowly faded. "There you are. These guys said we were waiting for you to tell us where we're gonna be living."
Newt tugged at his hair and tried to stop himself biting his lip.
"Well, for tonight we'll be once again at the Leaky Cauldron. But in the morning I'll go to see the Minister of Magic, and he'll have to offer us some place to stay since you're here from MACUSA."
Queenie raised her eyebrows skeptically, and Newt felt a little hot under the collar at this lie. The fact of the matter was, their housing was his responsibility, not the Ministry's. If worst came to worst, could he and Queenie muggle-proof some empty garret someplace? With all the research he'd done on his case, Newt felt pretty confident in his spatial manipulation charms. But that wouldn't fool Jane Moon-Leanfear, would it? She'd certainly disapprove of an illegal residence.
Newt swallowed. The Minister would have to give them housing. Even if just for Tina, then perhaps they could prop his case in the corner. Newt would make him see that it was the safest option. And if it was only temporary, well, Newt supposed that he could nip away for tea with his mother without too much trouble. Maybe he'd get lucky and that would be the last condition. He could of course ask his mother, who likely set all the contingencies in the first place, but that might lead to some conversations too uncomfortable to be had over a friendly cup of tea.
As they walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron a light rain began to fall, and Queenie hurried Tina back inside. Newt raised his wand like an umbrella, and with a quiet enlargement spell had Jacob under it as well.
"What should we be doing while you're at the Ministry tomorrow?" Jacob asked. "We could go look at some apartments, if you want."
Newt sighed.
"No. I'll try not to be too long. You probably shouldn't come to the Ministry with me. If President Picquery made Tina sound like some sort of hidden Grindelwald plot it will be safer for her to be well away from the Minister. But there's no point in looking at the realtor's. Everything posted for Diagon Aleley and the surrounding districts is well beyond our means. No, by the end of the interview with the Minister I'll know more about where we'll be staying. One way or another. You all can wait here."
They entered the Leaky Cauldron, and joined a couple of elderly witches at the bar. Queenie must have taken Tina upstairs, which was just as well. Newt might have turned in early himself if he hadn't needed to wait up for Tuggley to return. He placed his case by his feet and sighed, finally turning his attention to the conversation that Jacob was having with the two old ladies about the benefits of marigold versus calendula for skin ailments. Newt found this more interesting than he had expected, and the time passed easily. Despite his best efforts, there were parts of his case that hadn't got the ideal climate down, and some creatures, like Dugal had free rain of the place and the variation in humidity could be very tough on their skin.
After a time, somebody nudged Newt. Aggie, who had been collecting used glasses, muttered, "There he is."
And sure enough, Tunsten Tuggley was shouldering through the door, his great coat dripping with rain. Tuggley looked the sort of man that most witches and wizards thought of when they imagined someone who dealt with magical creatures for a living. He was a tall, broad bloke with chin length unkempt hair and a chestplate of dragon hide over his robes. A patch over one eye hid part of a deep scar that ran down his cheek. The gloves he wore were practically gauntlets, and he carried an iron-tipped staff.
Newt took up his case and moved away from the bar, motioning for Jacob to stay where he was. As soon as Tuggley saw him, or more accurately the case he carried, a broad grin stretched over his blocky features. Newt indicated a table, a little out of the way, and sat down at it, willing away all his discomfort and fidgets. He would treat Tuggley like a bull erumpent, something that could only be soothed with self-assurance, and that could never be trusted not to charge when one's back was turned.
"I heard tell you've got some stock you might want someone to take off yer hands," he said, sitting down. "And I happen to be in a position to buy sommat." He leaned forward eagerly. "What've yeh got?"
Newt frowned and sat back in his chair. He'd made deals with such people before, but he had almost always been the buyer. Still, he knew to start small.
"I have a half-dozen billiwigs that I might be able to offer to the right person."
Tuggley grunted and frowned.
"That's not what I'm after. I'm lookin for somethin' quite a bit larger than that." He reached within his robes and hauled out a fat purse. He loosened it so that
Newt could see the contents. Merlin, it was full of gold!
Newt's stomach twisted. There on the table sat enough galleons that he and Tina could rent that Diagon Alley flat across from Bludger and have enough left over to decorate a nursery or six. Yet if Tuggley was flashing him that much, he surely had his sights set on something Newt did not want to sell.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tuggley, but if you're looking for a hippogryph or a winged racehorse you'd better try my mother," Newt said. Those were the only legitimate purchases one could make with that much gold.
"I do hear she breeds the finest Aethonans in Britain," Tuggley said, "But I'm after something even more rare."
He leaned forward, excitement creasing his sunburnt features. "Seems the potions makers have gone through most of their stores of graphorn horn. But the silly buggers didn't seem to realize that there have to be graphorns to grow the horn in the first place, and there's no more of em."
"How very nearsighted of them," Newt said.
"Huh. But I did hear that there were some graphorns left. And that you could get me one."
Alarm bells were going off in Newt's head. How would Tunsten Tuggley have found out about his graphorns? And worse, he wanted one.
"One? How would that solve the dilemma of no more graphorns?"
Tuggley's expression turned shifty. "I'm only interested in a female, see. Gonna start mesself a graphorn farm."
Newt raised an eyebrow. If Tuggley really did have a male graphorn, selling him a female would increase the gene pool. It would be important that graphorns get back out there in the world before they lost their instincts. But somehow Tuggley did not seem like the ideal man for the job.
"I heard that you prefer to keep your hand in many different projects, Mr. Tuggley."
"Oh I'm all in for this one Mr. Scamander," he said.
Newt did not like the look of the gleam in Tuggley's eye, and was all set to refuse his offer, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tina and Queenie descend the stair. Tina looked through the thin crowd, mostly witches arrived early for the Potions convention, until she saw him. She started toward him, but he shook his head slightly. Tuggley caught the movement and turned.
"Is that the little missus?" he asked. "You'll be needing to set yerselve up somewhere decent, now you've got a wife to think about. How about it, Scamander?"
He rattled the purse. Newt frowned coldly. Tina really did need looking after, more than Tuggley knew, and it was his duty to do so.
"I might have access to what you're after. But the female would not be ready to breed for at least three years yet. Would you swear to wait that long?"
Tuggley grinned, showing all his teeth. "I've been waiting many years for such a rare beast to come my way, I can wait a little longer for a profit," he said.
Newt forced himself to keep eye contact with Tuggley. The man flinched slightly. Not a good sign. Tuggley stood to make piles upon piles of gold breeding graphorns rather than butchering one small female. Logically he should be telling the truth. Still, this did not feel good to Newt. But how could he be sure?
A hand touched his shoulder, and Newt started. Tina leaned over him, and whispered in his ear. A shiver went down his back at the feel of her warm breath on his neck, but then her words registered.
Newt rose from his seat, case in hand.
"Sorry, Mr. Tuggley. It turns out I don't have what you're looking for after all. Good evening."
Newt offered his arm to Tina, who took it and swept up the stairs with him, leaving Tuggley spluttering at the table.
They met Queenie and Jacob up in the room.
"Thank you Tina, Queenie," said Newt. "It's true that we need the money, but I couldn't forgive myself—"
"He was gonna chop up Princess!" Queenie said indignantly. She had named all the graphorn pups, but Princess, the only female, was particularly close to her heart.
"He didn't have a male graphorn," Tina explained. "He was lying. He just caught the apothecary saying he would trade his whole stock of unicorn tails for a quart of graphorn horn, and realized he could make a buck."
Newt shook his head, still mystified. "But how did he find out about the graphorns in the first place?"
Queenie winced and looked over to Jacob.
"I'm so sorry—we were having lunch, and Queenie and I were talking about Princess. An old lady overheard and asked us if we were talking about hippos—hip—"
"Hippogyphs," Queenie supplied.
"But I said no, they were called graphorns. And her eyes got big but she stopped talking and went back to the table with all her friends. She seemed like a nice old lady, I wouldn't have thought she'd do anything awful…" Jacob trailed off.
Newt sighed shortly and paced over to the window. He turned and looked back at Tina and Queenie who were sitting on one of the beds, and at Jacob who was standing near Queenie.
"She probably was, and probably didn't. But, as I've been trying to impress on Queenie, people talk here."
"There's plenty of gossip back home in New York!" Queenie said.
"Yes, but you know, for the most part, what's all right to discuss and what's not. If you don't know the state of the wizarding world here one slip of the tongue could destroy a breeding project—or worse."
He looked at Tina desperately. "You know that President Picquery thought something was off about Tina's attack. If anyone got wind of this—especially before I have the chance to tell our side of the story to the Minister—it could be disastrous."
He sat heavily on the vacant bed.
Queenie spoke up.
"That's why you've got to tell us, who can we trust, what can we talk about, that kind of thing."
Newt looked up.
"For the next few days, the answer to that is nobody and nothing. I'm sorry, but that's how it must be."
-o-o-o-
Newt stood outside the Minister of Magic's private office. Since the entire Ministry was below-ground, they had managed to give the Minister's office some import by placing it on a mezzanine so that it looked out over the lobby, with its bustling crowds flowing past the impressive group of statues that made up the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Newt nervously shuffled through the papers that he'd brought from New York.
President Picquery had told him that she would be making an appointment for him with the Minister, something that was half-courtesy, half-threat, since she was determined that he fully disclose Tina's circumstances. It wasn't that Newt couldn't understand the importance of the situation. If the Ministry of Magic were to claim that MACUSA had hidden a potential threat from them, it could cause upheaval in the international wizarding community. But all Newt wanted at this point was a quiet address from which to send an owl to their terrifying midwife, and to receive an owl bearing some assurance from Slughorn that he'd have something for them at their next appointment.
The Minister of Magic had the power to provide this. Newt had actually worked under three Ministers. The second, Lorcan McLaird, had been his favorite by far but he unfortunately had rubbed everyone else the wrong way with his preference for nonverbal communication. Newt could have counted on McLaird to understand his position. Unfortunately, this Minister talked exponentially more, and was consequently exponentially harder for Newt to read.
Hector Fawley was widely beloved, particularly by the witches in the Ministry, who were always coming up with excuses to go up to the mezzanine where his office was located. He'd taken office while Newt was away traveling, and Newt had only had a few encounters with Fawley while back in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before leaving again to see to the situation in New York.
It had actually been Newt's Uncle Ashley, an Auror turned bureaucrat in the Department of International Affairs, who had approved his absences. Newt could never appeal to him, however. After hearing the extent of the situation Ashley Waverly would send Newt directly home to his sister, and worse, make it an official order. Hopefully the Minister would be easier to get round.
"Mister Fawley will see you now, Mr. Scamander," said Ripley, the sober wizard that had been at the desk out front far longer than Newt had been at the Ministry. Ripley always wore black, and his thinning white hair was worn long in a queue down his back. Newt sometimes wondered exactly how long Ripley had been with the Ministry. It wouldn't have surprised him if he'd been there since the Middle Ages.
Newt entered the Minister's office. It was brightly lit and festooned with bright red drapes. The carpeting, Newt could see as he stepped further in, was a rather bold rendering of the Union Jack. He hid a grimace as the Minister looked up from his desk. Fawley had wavy dark hair that was at the point of beginning to recede, and bright blue eyes that sparkled when he laughed, which was a little too often for Newt's taste.
"Ah, Scamander the Younger!" he said cheerfully, leaping up from his desk and shaking Newt's hand. "Or should I say Scamander the Youngest?"
"I do have a younger sister at home, sir," Newt said.
Hector Fawley laughed, his white teeth gleaming in the brightness of the room. "Why yes, but who knows how much longer she'll bear the name, eh?"
Despite the importance of making a good impression, Newt could not bring himself to laugh this off. Counting the years rapidly in his head, Newt realized with some dismay that Salsify was not at all too young to be married. And he would have no way of knowing if she was attached. Newt hadn't seen her in over a year, though she at least had warranted (sometimes very belated) birthday gifts and sporadic letters.
Fawley seemed to have noticed Newt's distress, and hastened to change the subject.
"Ripley tells me we've received word that President Picquery of MACUSA had you bring an injured auror here for treatment."
"Yes, sir."
Newt held out the thick stack from MACUSA. Hector Fawley looked at it in dismay and did not reach for it.
"That's…quite a lot of parchment," he said, taking a step back.
"Paper, sir. They use paper in the States."
"Do they really? How muggle-like of them. In any event, as an agent of the Ministry of Magic, surely you can summarize all that for me, Scamander."
Newt frowned.
"It's a complex case, sir."
Fawley walked around his desk and sat back down in his large swivel chair.
"Sit down and begin, please," he said, steepling his fingers in front of him.
Newt eyed the plush red chair that Fawley had indicated, and decided to stand. He opened the first folder, wincing as it contained the photographs of Tina's injuries. This would not go well if he couldn't get himself under control.
Newt cleared his throat and began. "Porpentina Scamander was attacked on October the third in the section of the city of New York known as Red Hook, Brooklyn, a primarily industrial neighborhood. She had found a lead regarding—"
"Wait! Did you say Scamander?"
Fawley leaned forward. "I had heard a rumor, but I thought it was people making assumptions. You really did marry this injured auror? Theseus assured me it was all a misunderstanding—"
Newt clenched his jaw. This was exactly none of Theseus' business, but it would not do to let himself get agitated. If Newt was trying to use his family's influence to get diplomatic housing it would be counterproductive to show just how great a rift there was between himself and his brother.
"Tina and I had been married for not quite one month when she was attacked while on duty."
"Well, well."
Fawley raised a thick black eyebrow. Newt returned to the folder in his hands.
"The attack took place in the evening hours, and the auror was found injured physically and mentally, likely several blows to the head with a blunt instrument and a rudimentary obliviate spell. The physical wounds were easily mended, but her memory has been badly damaged."
"How much was lost?" asked Fawley.
"Her memory was not just lost…" Newt said. "But damaged. Years have completely disappeared, and she's not always aware of her surroundings."
Fawley frowned sympathetically. "I am most sorry to hear that. Puts rather a damper on celebrations. I can see why you weren't eager to make the announcement."
Newt refrained from pointing out that he was completely uninterested in everyone else's opinion of his marital state, regardless of Tina's health. At the same time, however, it made him feel vaguely guilty that he had come off as secretive about it. He wasn't ashamed that she was injured. Had he made Tina feel like he was unhappy about telling others?
"It's not just her injury that has led me to keep our journey quiet. If you would read the briefing from President Picquery—" Newt held out the paper in question.
The Minister looked at him blandly, and Newt gave up and began summarizing.
"Tina had been investigating the disappearance of a muggle reporter who had stumbled across the activity of some Grindelwald supporters—possibly even Gellert Grindelwald himself."
"Come now, Scamander. Let's not give one rogue wizard so much credit. Didn't you yourself easily apprehend him in New York two years ago? He's likely holed up somewhere with his tail between his legs, turning his thought to other matters than stirring up trouble with muggles. Maybe he should take a page out of your book and get married, eh?"
Fawley let out a guffaw, and summoned a goblet filled with something fizzy.
"Fizzing pumpkin juice, Scamander?" he offered. Newt shook his head.
"Well, this is dashed unfortunate. I'm quite sorry for you. Please leave any official correspondence with Ripley, and let your Department Head you've returned."
Fawley took a sip of his drink and was turning back to the sports section of the Daily Prophet which lay open on his desk. Sensing he was losing his audience, Newt launched into his request before he could be dismissed.
"There is the matter, sir, of where we'll stay. I had first assumed that Tina would be staying in long-term care at St. Mungo's, but the healers there would prefer that she have a more stable homelike environment. Since we are here at the behest of President Picquery of MACUSA, it seems appropriate that Tina and her sister, also a MACUSA envoy, be housed in one of the diplomatic suites."
Fawley pushed back from his desk a bit and laughed awkwardly. "Oh I don't think you'd want her there, at the moment."
"Why not?"
"You've said that President Picquery seems to think that this has something to do with Grindelwald. I don't agree that he's such a serious threat to us all as all that, but just in case, your uncle has specially requested a delegation from Grindelwald's last known whereabouts in Hungary. They're staying at the Grimmsley Square residence now. But if you think you'd like to share the space…"
"No! Of course not." Newt tried to hide his crippling disappointment. He'd been counting on maneuvering the Minister into giving them lodgings, but being constantly reminded of her attack would be the worst possible thing for Tina while she tried to recover.
"There you are then," said Fawley, his gaze wandering over to the large window that looked out on the lobby. "It would be best for you to take her home."
""You don't mean—Sir, Blethering House is simply not suited—"
"On the contrary, your family home is ideal, Scamander! Fresh, clean air, plenty of ladies to fuss over your wife. It'll keep her out of the hustle and bustle here, and it'll be easy enough to commute for your appointments."
"Commute?" Newt sounded distressed. "I don't know if broom travel—"
"Broom travel? Not at all! Broom travel is no longer recommended for anyone without an invisibility charm. Your brother has been commuting from Blethering House via the new and expanded portal system. We're calling it the Floo Network. It's being rolled out bit by bit to combat some of the housing difficulties we've been having lately."
Newt's heart sank into his stomach.
"Theseus has been commuting, from Blethering house? And my father permitted this?"
Fawley looked at Newt sharply.
"Your father has retired. Theseus is now the Lord Warden. I've spoken to him recently and I know he too feels all this worry about Grindelwald is overblown. I'm sure he, like the rest of your family will be pleased to have you back at home, and charmed to meet your new wife as well."
If Fawley only knew. Newt was fleetingly glad that Queenie was not here, as it had become impossible not to think loudly about just what his reception would be at home.
"I don't think Blethering would be the best place for Tina—"
"Nonsense! It's the only thing to do. I'll have Ripley send President Picquery a notice of where to reach her auror."
Before Newt could find a response, Fawley clapped his hands.
"Very well. I'll look forward to seeing whether or not our healers can mend your wife. If they do, I'll be interested in hearing just what it was that attacked her. Most likely some young miscreants lacking the proper finesse for a real memory charm. You may of course have the rest of the week off to settle her in and spend time with your family. We'll see you first thing next Monday."
Newt gritted his teeth at the thought that Tina could have been overpowered by anything less than a serious threat. He tried to remind himself that the Minister had just given his approval for Tina to be treated at St. Mungo's, and that they were lucky to have it.
"Thank you Minister," he managed, bowing formally and retreating swiftly from the office.
"Mr. Waverly asked if he might have a word, Mr. Scamander," Ripley said, appearing at Newt's elbow.
"It will have to wait, Ripley. The Minister has asked me…I have some things I must take care of first." Newt couldn't believe he was actually contemplating doing what he'd sworn never to do. He'd practically been ordered to go home. He'd rather not see Uncle Ashley and make it official. "I'll be back in the office next Monday. I'll see Mr. Waverly then."
"Very well, Mr. Scamander." Newt could feel Ripley's disapproval, but could not bring himself to care. There was too much else vying for attention in his mind.
-o-o-o-
Once Newt left the Ministry, it took just a few short hops to apparate back to one of the rooms in the Leaky Cauldron. Mercifully there was no one around, allowing Newt a moment alone with his thoughts. He looked out of the window. The ordinary bustle of Diagon Alley below somehow made him feel more alone than ever. He pressed his forehead to the glass and closed his eyes.
"I've let you down, Tina," Newt murmured.
"How have you let me down?" Newt jumped back from the window. He looked all around him and realized that Tina had been curled up on the floor in the small space between the bed and the wall. She was reading a stack of parchment that Newt recognized from their meeting with the midwife.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."
"But you were talking to me."
"No, I was talking to…" Newt suddenly choked on his words. How could he tell Tina that he was talking to a version of herself that was gone? Tina was right before him, yet part of him was grieving her as if she had died. Would he ever manage to connect with Tina again?
"You were talking to her, then. The other me, right?" Tina looked very young and very unsure as she said this.
Newt sighed and sat down on the floor in front of her.
"That's one way to put it."
"How did you fail?" she asked.
"I was unable to get the Minister to offer us housing," Newt said. He didn't want to burden Tina with this, but he was running out of options. Perhaps they could leave London and find another inn?
"Oh." Tina chewed on her lip. "So he's just going to leave us with no place to go? That's awful. I remember when Queenie and I got out of school that first year after our grandparents died. We went to their house, but my aunt had sold it. It was such a terrible feeling."
"Oh Tina," Newt said, stretching out a tentative hand toward her. "It's not going to be like that. And the Minister didn't think he was putting us out on the streets. He believed we had another option."
"Do we?"
Tina looked up at him with her wide dark eyes, and even though Newt knew that he should be the one taking care of her, the one taking responsibility off her shoulders, she looked so like herself that he started talking.
"The minister, and Aggie, and everyone else I've talked to seems to think the only thing to do is to take you straight back to my parents' house. I never considered doing so, I thought we'd find other accommodations. But everything I've looked into has failed to pan out. I'm so sorry."
"Would it be so bad then, staying with your parents?"
Newt ran both his hands through his hair until it fluffed out around his head like a demented halo.
"Yes. No. I don't know. You see, it's been quite some time since I've actually seen them, and we did not part on good terms."
"Was it—was it about getting married to me?" Tina asked this in a small voice. She looked up at his face, then away toward the window and went on in a rush.
"Because I've been getting the picture that they don't like me very much. That Slug guy said that they won't like the way I dress, and that lady at the customs office said your mother would be shocked…"
"No, Tina it was nothing whatsoever to do with you. It was about family matters that had absolutely nothing to do with you or our relationship. If you must know, it was about my brother. My father insisted on retiring early, and handing the official parts of his job over to Theseus, which is completely backwards. And then they said that if I disagreed I'd need to move back home, and I simply couldn't. That was asking too much of me."
"But they wanted you, at home?"
Newt frowned. "They claimed to. But they were desperate. I don't think they realized what they were asking."
"But this is a different circumstance. Are they mad that we got married? Did you tell them about—about the baby?"
Tina chewed on her lip. Newt's heart ached at how vulnerable she looked. He wanted to protect her from all these upsetting scenarios, but he resolved to honestly answer her questions.
"I…had not yet informed them of our marriage before you were attacked. And I confess my mind has been on other matters since then." Newt could not quite confess that he'd been actively avoiding it. "And no one knows about the baby. Please, don't say anything yet unless you have to. I'd like to figure out what we're going to do first."
Tina scooted closer to him on her knees so that they were almost touching in front of the window. "I've been hoping that we can be in one place for a while. Jane made a note that it might be helpful for me to write things down, and that being in one place would make it easier to focus on little changes."
Newt raised an eyebrow. "Jane?"
Tina smiled at his skepticism. "She's really nice. She wrote right here that I can call her Jane." Tina pointed to a page.
"And how am I supposed to address her?" asked Newt.
Tina laughed, and Newt was very pleased to hear the sound. It had been too long.
"She doesn't say!"
"Well I like that," huffed Newt. "I bet I've caught more babies than she has anyway. Did you know that the Noalper fish gives birth to over a thousand eggs at once?"
"I thought fish laid eggs."
"They do, but the female Noalper deposits the eggs inside a special gestational sac in the male's abdomen from which the young emerge once they've hatched."
Tina looked both repulsed and intrigued. "So you're counting watching while thousands of baby fish pop out of their daddy's belly?"
Newt crossed his arms. "I don't see why not. Reproduction mostly takes care of itself without any need for intervention."
"All the same, I'm glad to have someone who knows about human babies." Tina looked down at the stack of parchment in her hands. "Jane noted on here that we should tell her today when and where to make our next appointment."
"Oh heavens, you're right." Newt tipped his head against the wall and closed his eyes. "There's nothing for it, we're going to have to go to Blethering. Heaven knows what Mother will say about all this. And Theseus is apparently also living at home. Merlin, this is a bad idea."
"Can you think of any other way out?"
Newt thought, long and hard. They could not stay at the Leaky Cauldron because Aggie needed their rooms. They could not afford a flat in Diagon Alley. The diplomatic housing was full up with spies reporting on Grindelwald, and to top it all off, the Minister of Magic himself could tell Theseus at any moment that they were expected at Blethering House. The only way to retain any control whatsoever would be to get in before Theseus and have the opportunity to present his own case to his mother.
"No. Please pack up and get your jacket, we'll be leaving in a moment," Newt said.
"Can I have my wand?" Tina asked.
"You'll have to ask Queenie," he said. "But I don't see why not."