Greetings readers! This story has been alive for over a year now and I am so proud of it and everyone who keeps reading. It means a lot to me. Thank you for sticking with me for a year, its been a magical one.

March 15th, 1927

Dearest Newt,

I am so glad you liked the pen. I saw an ad for it in the New York Ghost, which is the magical newspaper here, and thought it might be an excellent gift for a soon-to-be-esteemed author. Do you plan to write any more books now that your book is going to be released in just a few weeks? Or will 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' be your only book?

Newt, I have enjoyed all of the gifts you have sent me. I do not think you are deficient in gift giving at all. I love the fwooper feather. The stuffed niffler has been such a wonderful companion during my recovery and while it might just be your old school pin, Newt, it saved my life. Please do not underestimate that. The pin, however, is currently with the Auror team at MACUSA. They are trying to unravel the layers of spells on the pin in hopes of creating shields for the team that is watching Grindelwald.

The magic behind the pin is fascinating, because the researchers think that there are lingering spells on the pin from when you were a student at Hogwarts. Those spells might have augmented the strength of the spells you put on the pin. I am considering writing to your friend Dumbledore about that possibility. Would you mind if it did? He might know something about unrelated spells weaving together and becoming stronger. Additionally, if he doesn't know, he might know someone else that we can ask.

Honestly Newt, I cannot think of a single thing to ask for right now. I am healthy again, I have my job back, every day Queenie and I get closer to finding Jacob. There is a delightful bowtruckle living in a potted plant in my room and I have you in my life. I don't know what else I could need or want. I am so excited at the prospect of seeing you again, in only a few weeks. It is only about 11 weeks until the first week of June.

However, I do wish that I could be at your publicity party this weekend. I did check the rates for an international portkey and it is out of my budget. Well, it's out of my budget if Queenie and I want to have a roof over our heads, anyways. We are not in a bad way with money. That little extra you gave us during your visit has made a huge difference, and that was more generosity than we deserved. I will think of you this Saturday, and I know it will be a great time and you will do marvelously.

I cannot believe how much time has flown since November. Or how different my life is now. Again, all of it is thanks to you. If your niffler hadn't escaped, I might still be working in the wand permit office, dreading going to work every day and spending my lunches sneaking around watching the Second Salemers.

However, things are different now.

When I read your last, wonderfully long, letter I was so overwhelmed with feelings. I love getting letters from you, and I had missed your correspondence while I was healing. All the letters you have sent me in the past have been read over so many times that the creases are giving way from being opened and folded so many times. Queenie said that I might as well put them in an album, and maybe she is right.

As I said, you last letter had me dazed. Reading about how you thought I was upset with you, and your own struggles have made me feel like I treated you very poorly.

You coming to see me, sit with me, and allowing poor Queenie to rest, is a kindness that I cannot ever repay. I know in you last letter, you told me not to bring it up again, and I will honor your wish, but please know how deeply your actions have touched my heart. I feel so close to you, despite being so far away. I've never felt this way about another person before.

However, as you did ask me not to bring it up again, I feel like I should address the other items in your wonderful letter.

I think the first thing to talk about is probably the most complicated, which is the situation about the knife and the dementor's breathe.

Mrs. Hendricks and I both agree with you that the knife most likely wasn't meant for me. Most importantly, the investigations team researching the attack agrees with you.

I am not on the investigations unit team following up on my attacks. To tell you the truth Newt, I am thankful I don't have to relive the attacks every day. I am thankful I don't have to listen to interviews or sift through rubble. Almost every night I have nightmares. There are still physical ailments I am dealing with from the attacks. If I don't have chocolate three times a day, I get worn down.

It is wrong I'm thankful not to be involved? Or, more involved than I already am? Does that make me weak? Am I a terrible person for not wanting to come to the conclusions myself?

The points you raised about the killing curse, and the cost and rarity of the dementor's breath, not to mention that it happens to be on the knife used to stab me, all seem like too many ways to try to kill me. Murder typically isn't this convoluted. Typically we see crimes of passion, sloppy and hastily executed or well thought out hits. A well thought out hit never has this much conflicting evidence.

There is too much evidence pointing towards someone wanting to kill me. If the plan was to just kill me, why not stab me first? I mean stab me two or three times, since there was enough time for it. Or Why not fire two killing curses? There were multiple wizards and multiple wands, why only one spell? I am sorry this is such a gruesome thing to write about. I feel like I am no-maj detective in a way, it's a case of poisoning or shooting but why both? I do think it might be because Mrs. Hendricks is a big fan of No-Maj mystery novels and has let me borrow some. If you haven't read any Agatha Christie, you should. She is an English writer, just like you.

The case is still open and there are still a lot of questions to be answered. It turns out that the man who saved my life, the old Polish man, has disappeared. He might have been a smuggler, or just a simply wizard. However, Billy had been asking about him after my attack. I figured he was trying to paste together as many facts as he could alone, but maybe not.

The team assigned to investigate my attack has been tracking down dementor's breath producers. However, the informant networks has suddenly become silent, which, I think, means that someone knows something, and cast a gag spell on their gang. Have you ever heard of this before?

Magical gangs will uses these gag spells on their members to silence them on different subjects. It isn't an easy spell to cast, so it's not often used. It is typically cast through a common item. So if everyone has the same gang tattoo, or mob coin, or set of cuff links they all fall under the casting of the spell. I think that is the only thing that could make everyone so silence.

Gangsters love to talk, and that is where most of their trade comes from. Most of time we hear an whisper of things before they happen and echoing after they happen, but we have heard nothing about the dementor's breathe.

Of course, the attack has been talked about a lot. In both the New York Ghost and in the New York underground. Interestingly enough, several mobs families have come forward and expressly stated they were not a part of it the attack.

I even received a "summons" from Gnarlak. He sent a messenger with a request of meeting in Central Park at noon. Mrs. Hendricks kept Billy occupied with a side assignment, having him follow a "person of interest". (It was really just another member of the investigations team who had been practicing their disguise spells.) I left Pickett with Queenie the day of the meet up, as he typically like to come to work with me. However, I didn't think it was safe for Pickett to come along, he was really upset with me. I know you understand why.

Gnarlak was already sitting on a bench when I got there. Disillusionment charm had been cast on the section of the park we were in. His goons must have put them up before I got there. No one looked twice at us sitting on a bench, him smoking a cigar with his broken fingers and me, eating a hot dog.

He flat out told me that he wasn't behind the attack, and that despite what happened back in November he wouldn't come after me like that. I told him he was a real gentleman. I think he caught my sarcasm.

One thing he did say was that whoever put that hit out on me was a fool. Since according to Gnarlak I am one of the most famous Aurors around right now. I will admit, to you and you alone, this flattered me.

He suggested three possibilities. That either a new family was coming up in the ranks and wanted to make a name for themselves fast, by taking out a high ranking auror. Another option was the attack came from a non-New York family, because if it was a New York family, someone would have tried to take credit for it by now. Or three, I wasn't the intended target because no one would brag about a botched hit.

For course, I wasn't going to show my cards and let me know what I had already reached those conclusions. However, I told him that I was glad to know it wasn't him trying to kill me, since that would have put a real damper on our friendship.

He laughed and got up off the bench. He had a trench coat collar pulled up to cover as much of his face as possible.

"Goldstine, you are one of a kind. Thank god for that. I don't know what I would do if there were two of you. You are the most famous Auror, and I am the most infamous gangster in New York. We had a good thing going. I hope our issues in November can be looked past."

The he handed me a business card and started to walk away. "Stop by the Pig if you're feeling bold, and you have information to trade, we got a new location. Show the card at the door and you should get in, no questions asked."

He stopped and looked back at me. "That wizard who punched me, I like him. He's got spirit. If he needs work, send him my way."

"Well, Gnarlak. That is a compliment indeed. However, that guy was a No-Maj, and has no recollection of your meeting."

He paused, thinking to himself, before saying "A No-Maj eh? Well, that clears somethings up. Well, I like him more now. By the way, there is something you might like to see on the lower east side. Rivington Street. You'll know it when you see it."

Then he wander away. I could see three or four other people get off benches and follow him slowly, trying to look at discreet as possible. I just sat and finished my hotdog before heading back to the office.

The strange thing is, after being so close to death, I don't know if I am more reckless or braver than I was before. I knew, as it is any time meeting Gnarlak, you are a pigmy puff in a den of Nundus. I am normally nervous going into the Blind Pig, however, that day, I wasn't afraid at all.

I wish the meeting could have been more productive but it did confirm a few of my theories. I knew it wasn't a new crime family, because if my attack was a moment to show how powerful of a family you were, you'd be bragging about it.

I do think that it could possibly be a Non-New York crime family. We have had a lot of activity from Chicago and Detroit organizations in the city lately.

Then once again, the idea that I wasn't the target of the hit comes ups. But if I wasn't the target, who was? Could it have been the missing Polish wizard? If so, he might be in more danger now than before. I can barely remember his face, but he saved my life.

When I think back to that day, it seemed so, well planned out. The road being blocked, no-majs being funneled down the street into the line of fire. I still have nightmares about that day.

It's kind of funny, I had some nightmares after Grindelwald. Mainly nightmares about things happening to you. You did take the brunt of all the attacks. However, the nightmares I have from my attack are mainly about crying and screaming no-maj children. The ones that were caught in the crossfire. It's amazing how few people were actually hurt. In total, only six had been hit by any curses. They had been treated, and oblivated, but, those children, I can't forget.

Maybe it's because I remember being a child, scared and alone and wishing someone who protect me. Knowing no one was coming.

It seems almost impossible that I should have been the target, why do so much work for me? Other than the missing wizard, the only other person I think could have been a target was Billy.

As I told you in my last letter, Billy is on a new assignment at MACUSA. He is upset that we aren't assigned to a project together. He doesn't like working with Auror Johnston and he really hates working with dangerous manuscripts. However, I have been given a dull enough project title that even Billy shouldn't want to work on it.

Everyone in the office has been told that I am indexing magical businesses and locations across New York proper and updating our current functioning maps. I am also supposed to act like I get tired quickly and I should be seen resting as often as possible. Only a few people know what I am actually doing.

However, Billy still comes to see me every day at lunch. He tries to convince me to go to a local diner with him, or to get a coffee together on breaks. I decline almost all of his offers. I give him the excuse that I am too exhausted, or not feeling up to going out. I have gone to lunch with him once since coming back to work and all he wants to do is discuss the attack. He talks about it like an amazing battle. I know he is a kid in many ways but I had to tell him that I was almost killed and that I didn't like how he was talking about my attack. That shut him up.

When I refuse to go out with him, he then tries to insist on eating with me at my desk. I then remind him that he should be meeting and working with other aurors. He doesn't like this, but he accepts it begrudgingly. Mrs. Hendricks is working to keep him away from me as I work on his case.

So far, I have read up on all the MACUSA files on Billy, which isn't much. He home office is the Detroit Branch and he is here on a temporary training transfer, which is common. The only slightly strange thing is that he was issued a temporary transfer to New York, which was canceled about a week later. Then two weeks later he was reissued another temporary transfer to New York, and he left a day after the second transfer was approved. His file said the first transfer was canceled due to family reasons.

Auror Johnston is taking Billy on an overnight mission to visit the New Orleans branch. I guess there are several really dangerous dark voodoo texts that have made their way into a local library. While Billy and Johnston are working out away from headquarters I plan on going to the Detroit home office to look up more about Billy.

You know, Newt, there was never a reason to be jealous of Billy. The reason I spent so much time with him was because he was my assigned partner. He only ever had lunch with me, or the occasionally dinner with Queenie and I was because he told us he was lonely. Queenie admits that he always made her a bit uncomfortable because she has never been able to reach his mind. Queenie said it's like she has a shield around his mind.

You ask if I wrote your mother back, and I did. I mainly thanked her for the kind wishes for a speedy recovery. I also told her how much I liked the cookies. Do you know I have never seen a hippogriff in real life? I told her as much, and that I thought, based off her cookies, that they seemed liked beautiful creatures.

Which, in retrospect, might not be a compliment. I said I was looking forward to reading about them in your book. Finally, I thanked her for sending me a copy of your interview, with your book coming out soon, I have been reading all I can about it, but of course, a lot of stuff reported in England that isn't reported here.

I know you said your mom was disappointed in you. That she was let down by the fact that you didn't have a high ranking job at the ministry, that you were throw out of Hogwarts, but I don't know if that is true. She wrote about how proud she was of all the work you've done. She mentioned your work with dragon's during the war too. I was fascinated since we have never discussed what you did during the war.

Of course, I am an outsider in all of this, and I have never had the chance to have an adult relationship with my own mother, so I am not sure how they are supposed to work for other people. Sometimes I wonder if my mother would be proud of me or my dad would think my job is too dangerous. In the fall, I think about it the most. My parents died in October, so when the leaves start to change, I often find myself thinking about how they would have felt about things in Queenie's and my life.

Would they have approved of Queenie loving a No-Maj? What would have our birthdays been like if we had parents? Would it have been easier to work at MACUSA? Did you know my dad was an auror? He was the reason I wanted to be one too. He would come home telling these amazing stories. Being an Auror back then felt like being a cowboy in the wild west. He had tracked dark wizards across the United States.

Our parents met at a dinner party. Daddy said he saw momma from across the room and knew, right then and there that he needed to marry her. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. Momma looked more like Queenie, and I guess I look like daddy. I have pictures of them in a locket I wear around my neck.

I guess, in a roundabout way, I am saying it's possible you don't know what your mother thinks of your job. Or your creatures, or your hobbies. Unless you ask her, which you still have the ability to do. Maybe you two have more in common than you realize?

I think it was very commendable that your Prime Minster actually came to you to apologize for, what he feels, was a slight in judgment. How I wish things worked that way here at MACUSA. However, this year is an election year, and Madam Picquery is going to need to do some campaigning. She is not very popular right now.

Despite the fact that she keeps reminding people Grindelwald was caught under her command, he detractors also remind the public that Grindelwald was working close to her under the guise of Mr. Graves. Also, the magical world was exposed to everyone in New York, and if it wasn't for you and Frank, she would have had a major crisis on her hands. She is talking about setting up a sanctuary for Thunderbirds and making them a protected species.

She is also talking about how she asked you to keep American creatures out of your book. She implies that she did a lot of negotiating, and how she is taking a great step to better creature safety in the United State. However, I know you. I know it did not take a lot of negotiating. You will always do what is best for the magical creatures of the world and if that means keeping them from being published in a worldwide book, then you would do it without hesitation.

However, I do feel hesitant about the kind of censorship. Because you are not including those creatures in your book, how will people know how to protect themselves or those creatures from harm? Who is really being protected here? Madam Picquery's reputation, the general public or the fantastic beasts?

Excuse me, it is not my place to judge any decisions you make about your work. I am just your… friend. I should write about happier things.

For example, I am pleased that your office was assigned a part time worker. I think that your life will be a lot easier with someone handling part of your work load, even if she does talk too much. This Miss Easton sounds like a very interesting woman. Does she have an interest in Magical creatures or is she just working in your office temporarily?

It sounds like she might have a

Newt looked up from the letter. There was nothing else on that page. The pulled out his wand and cast a quick revelio spell to see if she had switched to invisible ink. Nothing. He flipped the paper over and curiously enough, saw more writing. The handwriting was sloppier on this side of the page.

Newt, she found him.

Queenie found Jacob.

I'm sorry about this break in the letter, she just came bursting into the flat. So I set down my quill, and we started talking, and the next thing I knew, it was already midnight and I had to put off finishing your letter till today.

When Queenie found Jacob it was Tuesday the 15th, and she had such great news. He has a bakery, and from what she told me, a very successful one. She said that she stood outside the bakery most of the afternoon watching customers come and go. At times there was even a line to go into the bakery. You will never guess where it is. It's on the lower east side, on Rivington Street, where Gnarlack said I would find something interesting.

However, despite the fact that she found him and his bakery on Tuesday, she didn't go in the shop. She said she was too nervous, which I understand. After not seeing the person you love after three, almost four, months it can't just be an easy thing to trot up to them and pretend like nothing happened. Especially when that person doesn't even remember you anymore.

To this day, I regret letting Jacob forget. I wish I would have said something to Madam Picquery. If only I could have done something. Helped Queenie and Jacob run away, anything. They could have gone to England with you. However, after writing that down, I realize now that sending them with you would have been a burden on you, since you would feel obligated to help them. They would be fugitives.

Yet, back to my actual story. Queenie did look into the windows of the shop, especially when Jacob was in the back, and he was least likely to see her peering in. You will never believe what I am about to tell you. Jacob has been making pastries in the shape of your fantastic beasts!

It is true, since I saw them myself the very next day. Jacob has been making tiny little baked nifflers, occamys, demiguises, and Erumpents. There are small cookies shaped like bowtruckles, owls and fairies. He has re-created these creatures out of his memories. I will send you a box of them with my next letter so you can see.

Queenie and I stayed up very late on Tuesday, discussing what would be the next plan of action. After a few cups of tea, we decided to go tomorrow to the bakery, after I was done with my shift.

On Wednesday, she met me in the MACUSA main lobby, and as we were leaving, Billy showed up and delayed us. He wanted to catch up with Queenie since he hadn't seen her since before I came back to work. It was very difficult to shake him off, he wanted to go where ever we were going. Queenie finally had to just look him square in the face and told him that what we were doing was personal, family business. I could see Billy start to frown and before he could protest, she apparated us out of MACUSA and into an alley not too far from Jacob's shop.

I resisted scolding her for using magic to taking us to no-maj alley in the middle of the day, but I could tell that she was shaken up. I think she was worried that Billy would follow us, and chances are, he probably would have if we walked. I haven't told her everything about Billy's case, but she knows he is being watched by MACUSA. If Billy is followed by MACUSA to Jacob's shop, it would only take an Auror a moment to recognize all those magical creatures in there, and then Jacob would have to be oblivated again.

It is already dangerous enough that Gnarlack knows about the bakery.

However, back to my story.

After a few minutes of standing in the alley and calming down, she asked me how she looked. Of course, she looked beautiful. There were some dark rings around her eyes, that weren't there when she first met Jacob. However, between her searching for him, and her dealing with the brunt of my recovery, she still looked lovely.

We never intended to apparate, so a few of her hairs were lose. I tucked down her curls, adjusted her hat, and whipped some imaginary dirt off her coat. She wore her new light pink dress, it was one she started to sew months ago for the spring weather. It looked beautiful against her pale skin, and she had cleaned her pink coat for the occasion. With those few touch ups, she took my hand, and led me to Jacob's shop. I could feel her shaking as we walked. My stomach was in knots for her. I focused on positive thoughts and hoped that would calm her.

We agreed that I would stay outside and watch the door, so the normally busy shop would have a few moments of silence. I hate to even admit this, but I did cast a forgetfullness charm on the sidewalk in front of the shop. So if anyone was walking towards the shop door, they suddenly remember something important that they had forgotten and rushed off to do it. That way, once the shop emptied out, not only would they have some privacy for personal reason, but on a more practical and dark turn, if Jacob did have a bunch of memories suddenly return, it was probably not best to do it in front of a bunch of no-majs. With how untested Swooping Evil venom is, I didn't want Jacob possibly losing him mind in front of a bunch of witnesses. Does this make me a terrible sister?

Either way, once the last person from the shop left, Queenie went in, I stood waiting outside. It was a beautiful early spring day. Just a little cold out. The road that Jacob's shop is on is pretty nice. There are lots other really successful stores, including a cutlery and hardware shop and a tailor. People were selling wears on the street too, eggs by the carton and apples. There were children running down the sidewalk and plenty of couples window shopping. Jacob even has a bakery car, to make deliveries, parked outside his shop.

The shop itself is a nice sized gray building, with yellow letters in the window spelling out "Kowalski Baked Goods". It's a clean looking shop from the outside. Almost too clean for New York, if you know what I mean. But of course, you probably don't know what I mean.

While standing there, I thought about how, at first, I was upset you gave Jacob those Occamy eggs. My anger was for such a selfish reason. I didn't want to tell you back than because I didn't want you to think poorly of me. However, I was afraid that if MACUSA found out you gave a no-maj a class C non-tradable good, you wouldn't be allowed back in the United States. Then I wouldn't get to see you again. I was really only thinking about me, when you were thinking about Jacob. Standing outside his beautiful bakery just reminded me of your kindness, not just to me and my sister, but to Jacob.

It was only about five minutes or so that Queenie was in the shop. When she came out, her cheeks were flushed and her smile was radiate. She also had a small bag of baked goods. I removed the forgetfulness charm from the store and we left.

She took my hands and we wandered back towards the alley we apparated into. She took us to Central Park, where we sat on a bench and ate our Bowtruckle shaped cookies, and she told me everything that happened inside.

In the shop, the walls are covered trays of baked goods. In the windows, you can see the different beautiful baked beasts on display. There is a display counter near the front where all the smaller baked goods and cookies are kept.

Queenie stood in the middle of the shop, near one of the bread shelves. Intending to looking at the breads, but she said that when she entered the store, she only had eyes for Jacob.

He looked happy. Really truly happy.

Queenie was nervous, she said that suddenly she doubted if she should in the shop at all. Then the bell in the store rung, when the last person left and he looked at her. She said he was dumb struck.

She told me that he thought "Wow, she is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Which made her smile. According to Queenie, that is what he thought the very first time he saw her.

She was smiling as she moved closer to him. His brain started to search for her. He knew her from somewhere, but he couldn't figure out where.

He reached up, and touched the murtlap bite on the back of his neck, and he smiled at her. A small, mischievous, knowing smile.

However, Queenie said that while in his mind he was telling himself he knew her, he was still struggling with remembering why he knew her. However, he KNEW that he knew her. He remembered small things she said, he remembered her smile, but he couldn't place where she had smiled at him before. However, she could also tell that it gave him a sense of relief. That he said to himself, 'things ARE missing!' almost as if confirming the suspicion to himself.

She approached the counter and told him that she loved his bakery. That it really suited him, I can only imagine how radiate Queenie's smile must have been. Jacob is really proud of the place.

She ordered a few cookies from him, and while he was bagging them up for her, he said to her "I hate to be rude Miss, but I swear, I feel like we have met before. Is that possible?"

Queenie paid for the cookies and said "Of Course, Honey. You are one of us. I'm looking forward to bringing my sister in with me next time. I know she would be happy to see you again."

"Of..Of course" Jacob stammered back. "You are welcome whenever…Miss?"

"Queenie, you can call me Queenie, Mr. Kowalski."

Queenie said she was at the door at this point, and she turned back to smile at him and that his mind was working in overdrive to recall her. She told me later that she almost felt guilty, coming into his shop and messing with his head like that. He stood at the counter desperately trying to recall her, but also at the same time staring at her like he was miserable to see her go again. But he didn't understand why it was again.

"Please, call me Jacob." He squeaked out before Queenie smiled at him and left.

That was all today, after work.

Queenie and I decided that we will go back next week together. She said she wanted to give him some time to recall and work through his memories. She is positive that he reminded her, even if it was just a flicker. However, I am worried about this. The swooping Evil venom might has horrible side effects, or not. I guess that maybe, I am just worrying because I am scared of Queenie getting hurt.

Either way, in a week we will go back together. I will buy some baked goods to send back with your next letter. By the time you get this, chances are your book publicity party will be over.

I will be posting this letter very late, it's already almost midnight on the 16th. Only three days to your party, it probably won't be in your hands before, since it takes almost three days for mail to travel between countries. My intention was to have this letter to you before the party, to give you a boost of confidence. I know how nervous you can be about these things. However, know that I will be thinking about you and believing that you will do well. Everyone is going to that party to support you, everyone there believes in you. Like I believe in you.

I know everything will go smoothly.

I'm sorry about the state of this letter. I'm sorry about the delay, I just thought you would want to know as soon as possible about Jacob.

All the best and all my affection.

Warmest regards,

Your Tina

"Newton, it's just about time to leave. Are you ready?" a voice rang out from the living room of his small apartment.

"One moment Mother." He responded quickly, wiping a tear away from his eye. They had found Jacob! He had his bakery! He was baking… magical creatures? What in the world does he remember? Could he remember me?

The next moment, his mother, Helena Scamander, poked her gray-haired head into his bedroom. He was sitting at this desk, in his new dress robes, with no shoes on, holding a very thick letter in his hand. His face slightly flushed. He looked lost in thought.

She studied him for a moment, he had not looked over to see her standing in the door.

He was looking at a muggle photograph of a young woman, and his hands were shaking slightly.

She took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the open door. Newt started and stood up quickly.

'That is odd,' Helena thought. 'He doesn't tend to startle easily.'

"I am sorry to have startled you. Can I come in?"

"Ah, yes. Of course, Mother." Newt looked away from his mother, still holding the letter in his hands. Helena moved in a very prim and stately manner across the room, where she perched herself on the edge of Newt's bed. She turned towards the photograph on the desk.

In the back of his mind, his mother looked like a queen. Her grayed hair elaborately coiffed on the top of her head. She wore a dark purple velvet dress, decorated with purple beads, with long gloves that covered her hands. No doubt there was a purple velvet witches hat sitting in his living room, waiting to rest on her head like a crown for the evening.

"Is that Tina?" She asked softly.

Newt swallowed visibly and nodded. While he had talked to his mother more and more about Tina, she had not seen her image before. What if she didn't approve? Well, not that her opinion of Tina actually mattered to him, he told himself. It would just be easier if she liked her.

His mother reached for the photograph and looked at it for a while. Slowly studying the still face, and making note of the Hufflepuff pin on her collar.

"She is a very pretty young woman." His mother stated. "She also writes lovely letters. She sent one to me a few weeks ago, thanking me for the package. She wrote like an intelligent and thoughtful young woman, so her picture matches her personality. I quite like her."

She carefully put the picture back down on the desk, and took in the image of her son standing in front of her.

He looked very handsome in his new dress robes, she had purposely taken him shopping from them earlier in the week. She told him he needed more fashionable attire for such a big event. His other dress robes were the ones he got for his Hogwarts graduation that had sadly never happened.

He never told her why he did what he did to get himself expelled from Hogwarts. She knew what had happened from the letter she had received from the headmaster, not because her son had told her.

His old dress robes were out of fashion, which was true, but their real offense to her was greater. They reminded her of her own failures. More specifically her failures as Newt's mother. After she received that letter, she had yelled at him for hours and ignored him for days. Her own pride and vanity were hurt by his expulsion. She had never thought about how it might have hurt him to have his mother turn away from him. After he left Hogwarts, he moved back into the family home and started working at the Ministry. She pretended like he didn't live there, but that he was just visiting.

From that moment on, they were more like distant relatives, instead of mother and son. Even when he went to serve during the war, their connection was a cold and strained. It had been that way for years, only until recently. Only until Tina had entered his life. Since Christmas Helena had noticed a change in her son.

In February when he was so upset about her attack, he confided in her. It was the first she had heard of this young woman, the one who had fought Grindelwald with her son. It was the first time he had talked to her about anything important to him. He didn't even talk with her about his book, instead choosing to talk with Theseus about it instead. However, it was due to Tina that he opened up to her.

She truly was worried for the young woman after her attack. The care package she sent her was a dual purpose package. Part care package, part thank you package. Newt had mentioned that Tina and her sister were orphans, so she felt compelled to send homemade cookies. Tina really had written a truly wonderful letter back, and that had cemented the young woman in her high esteem.

Helena turned her attention on her son again. Who was still standing nervously in front of her.

"Please sit Newton, we still have plenty of time before we have to leave. Your father said that he would come here once he finished up the last of his work, and then we can all walk over together."

"Of course, I just need to get my boots on. I took care of all my creatures before changing." He looked down at his hands again, the letter was still there.

"Did you receive a letter from Tina? Is she doing well?"

"Ah, yes. She seems to be healing quite well. Ah, she has been working on a new case that is taking her to the Detroit office next week. There has been a lot of gang activity and black market trading lately and she is checking some of it out." Newt said quickly.

"Don't you worry about her? It sounds like a dangerous profession. I find myself worrying about her, and I barely know her."

"Actually" Newt paused, thinking about what Tina had written him. 'It's possible you don't know what your mother thinks of your job. Or your creatures, or your hobbies. Unless you ask her, which you have the ability to do.' He took a deep breath.

"Actually, I worry about her every day. Ever since the attack, I've had nightmares about losing her." Newt wiped his face with his hand. "Which is silly, since I know she is a very capable witch. She held Grindelwald back in wand to wand combat." He chuckled slightly.

"If anything, without her, I wouldn't be alive."

He looked up at his mother. "I think I love her."

There, he said it. He had said it out loud to his mother. He felt emboldened, so he continued.

"If she'll have me, I am going to ask her to marry me."

"I don't think you could have chosen better. She sounds amazing." His mother said softly looking at her son.

"She really is. She sent me this letter to cheer me on and give me confidence about tonight. She always seems to know what to say." Newt turned towards Tina's picture.

"Tina gives the most considerate and generous gifts. She knitted me these socks, and gave me a self-indexing pen!"

His mother glanced down at his feet as he continued.

"Along with the other things she has sent for my creatures. She loves her sister, and would do anything for her happiness. Including helping her sister find the muggle whose memory was erased, despite the fact that in America Muggles and Witches are not legally allowed to marry or intermingle."

"Tina has so many good qualities." Newt looked down towards the floor. After a long moment of silence he continued, "I am worried that one day she is going to look at me, and realize I am nothing special."

Helena raised her eye brows, surprised at, not just what her son was saying, but that he was saying it to her.

"Now, Newton." She started firmly. "Don't be silly. You are a very special person. Yes, you are different than a lot of young men out there. But I think that might just be because you don't prattle on about your self-importance."

Newt looked at his mother, surprise evident on his face.

"You work very hard at your job, and have earned a solid reputation as a good employee. You have written a book about something you love, which is getting very good early release reviews. The fact that you found something you love to do, is in itself, amazing."

"Your brother, he has no idea what he wants to do with his life. He is older than you and still hasn't found thing or someone he cares about more than himself. He is floating around on his good looks and his reputation, but do you think he is happy?"

"Actually,…" Newt thought for a moment, before responding. "I thought he was happy, but now that you mention it. When he looks away from you, or when he thinks no one is around, he looks very cold."

"Yes, but you, you have something you love. More importantly, you have someone you love."

Newt's face flushed. It felt different having his mother repeat something back to him that he had just confessed.

"Newton." She, uncharacteristically took his hand in hers. "Loving someone is the greatest gift we have to give. Not everyone can love someone as deeply as you do. Do not be ashamed for that feeling." She patted him on the top of his hand.

"Now Newton, you should get your shoes on, I have a feeling that your father will be here any moment." They both stood.

Newt tucked Tina's letter into an inside pocket of his robe and then reached down and picked a handkerchief off the desk, which had a small earring pinned on it. After carefully tucking it into his pocket, he reached and picked up his boots, speaking as he moved.

"You know, mother, everyone calls me Newt."

She sighed. "If you would like, I will try to call you Newt. However, I love your full name. That is why I picked it."

"I thought dad picked it."

"No, I only let him THINK he picked it." She stated as waved a hand dismissively, starting towards the door.

Newt followed her out of the room, saying "Speaking of dad, I don't believe you ever told me how you met."

"HA!" His mother ejaculated. "Oh, this is a good story. I had just gotten out of Hogwarts…"