(19th July, 4th Year - 5th Year)

Sylvia sat glued to her car seat the entire way home to Chesire. Words had failed her.

Fredrik had given a hesitant account of what her mother was being investigated for, and the girl tried to listen intently. Her father's voice sounded to her as if he was underwater, the blood rushed so loudly in her ears. She caught various words and phrases.

Dark magic. Ridiculous. Didn't want to disturb your school work. There'll be a wizarding hearing. You'll be there.

And there were a few German curse words in there that Sylvia had never heard her father say before. He was cool and distant, but never so distant that his own daughter barely recognised him.

Gellert Grindelwald. The name still struck a certain chord with Sylvia many years later, but the name to her then was something akin to a myth. She had heard his name muttered in the Hogwart's corridors - he was a famous student of Durmstrang, or he was. A student had asked her if she knew him once simply because her parents were German too. The name made her gut feel cold.

He was a wizard soon to be famed for his alliance with the Dark Arts and her mother was adept at ridding the world of people like him. How could anyone think she would help them?

It was, as Sylvia found out when she was older, simple period racism. Even the wizarding world wasn't exempt from it. Her mother was German, Gellert was German – to the Ministry, this was solid proof and they were desperate to quell his rapidly growing fanbase whilst he was still a relatively small threat. They would, as time would tell, fail.

Upon returning to their small home in a quaint 'everyone-knows-everyone' neighbourhood, they were greeted by two Ministry operatives, dressed in black as if waiting for a hearse to pull up rather than their car. Her father looked positively furious, slamming his door as if the crash would dispel them.

It did not.

Fredrik had barked an order for Sylvia to stay in the car, and so she did, reviewing the two agents as if they were harbingers of death rather than news.

"If we may come in, Mr. Segovstein, we have news." Their voices were muffled slightly, both from their low tone and the car's windshield.

Her father, disgruntled (a polite description), waved to Sylvia and they all entered the house. It felt colder than usual - as if the bitterness of the Scottish highlands had followed her home. They all sat awkwardly in the living room. It still smelt faintly of her mother's perfume.

"We understand this is a trying time for you and your daughter, Mr. Segovstein. But if Hanna is innocent she'll have nothing to fear and be returned to you shortly." The older one spoke, his lips muffled by his handle-bar moustache.

Sylvia winced. 'Returned to you shortly'. Her mother was a person, not a package that had been misplaced. Fredrik evidently agreed.

"Returned?" He barked, his thick eyebrows knitting together. "You do not think I know my wife, eh?"

"We did not insinuate that, sir. We merely ask for your patience."

"Patience-" Her father's head was about to hit the roof until Sylvia – ignored up until this point – opened her mouth.

"What exactly is my mother being investigated for?"

Three heads turned towards her and regarded her with a look as if they had almost forgotten she had existed. The female of the two shared a glance with her partner. "We believe she helped Grindelwald escape after the suspected murder of a witch." Fredrik flinched.

"Impossible!" He shouted. "I know my-"

"We are aware." The mustached man spoke tartly. "The hearing will be set for the 13th of next month." Apt, Sylvia later thought. "You and your daughter are to attend and you will be subject to questioning. Please be aware that your movements are being tracked and we will be in touch before then. Any further questions?"

The witch felt as if she would throw up.

"What's the penalty?" Sylvia asked before she could stop herself. "If she is convicted?"

Such harsh words to use – they felt foreign on her tongue. Penalty. Convicted.

"Lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban." The man answered simply.

Not much more was said and the two agents soon left pretty much as quickly as they had arrived. Her father let out a long, sigh, and placed his face in his hands.

"They just came in..." He began, quietly. "Came in and started barking at Hanna to surrender her wand and..." His voice was shaky. "I tried to stop them..." It was only then that his daughter noticed the fading scar on his father's neck.

This isn't my father, Sylvia thought darkly.

"I hate wizards." Her father spat, as he stood and retreated to the kitchen.

The witch found herself in her room scribbling on a piece of parchment before she had even realised what she was doing, reciting the mad events that had taken place in a few short hours. She had only just finished writing the address before she found out they had confiscated her mother's owl too.

"Damn it. Damn it all!" Sylvia cursed, clutching the parchment in her hands with a tight grip.

She had planned to tell Newt the news, not knowing what else to do with herself. She couldn't bare to go downstairs.

It became apparent how much closer she was to her mother, and just how much closer she was with Newt than her own father.

(26th July, 4th Year - 5th Year)

A week of uncomfortable silence drew past slowly before there was a clatter at her window one morning. It made Sylvia jump, she wasn't used to sudden noises now that her mother wasn't there, with her constant humming or barking.

It was an owl. It wasn't her mother's, certainly, the owl was far too friendly. It pecked at the window several times before Sylvia gathered up the nerve to open it. The air was hot, summer had arrived without her noticing, but her attention wasn't on the weather. The soft, brown owl tooted softly at her, and it was a minute before Sylvia saw it had a note attached to its foot. She took the note and read it quickly.

Sylvia,

I'm not sure if this will get to you, Harris gets a little distracted sometimes, but I just wondered if everything was okay. You looked awfully pale talking to your father, and my mother said I should write to you and see if everything was fine. I hope I'm not being too nosy, and I hope you'll still come visit on the 9th.

Hope you're okay. This was poorly scribbled out and instead 'Hope everything is well' was written below it.

Newt

P.S
Please do give Harris some water – he's not quite as fit as he used to be.

Sylvia laughed to find it signed as well. It was the first time she had laughed since she had returned home. She quickly rushed downstairs to retrieve a bowl from her cupboard and fill it with water. Rushing back upstairs (with careful steps), she placed it on the sill. Harris happily drank from it as Sylvia wrote out her own note.

Newt,

Everything is not well.

She scrunched up this piece of paper and threw it aside. It seemed quite a heavy subject to write on one simple piece of parchment. 'My mothers currently incarcerated because she's believed to have assisted a dark wizard' wouldn't translate as well on the page, she thought. Writing it in a fit of anger and confusion was one thing, but now she thought it would be better to tell him in person.

The witch took a breath, before writing another much lighter note about how she was well, but her family was in a bit of a bother, and that her mother's owl was currently unwell so that's why she hadn't written to him. She tried to keep it friendly and chatty and ended it saying how she would explain everything when she visited. Newt would worry if she used ominous words, and that was the last thing she currently wanted.

I look forward to seeing you again, I've missed your laugh.

Sylvia went to scribble this out but stopped her hand. It sounded quite... forward when she read the letter back out loud. But it was true. She missed his presence - it had become comforting to her. Reliable. In her current world of so much uncertainty, it calmed her to know someone she could rely on.

The 9th, in another turn of feeling, couldn't come quick enough to her.

(9th August, 4th - 5th Year)

"There'll be a hearing and everything?" Newt said incredulously.

Sylvia hummed, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. "Please don't tell anyone else, though, Newt. The last thing I need is this following me to Hogwarts as well."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course not. Your secret is certainly safe with me."

They were sitting outside lazily. The weather was stiflingly warm, and the sun blazed intently. Newt's family's ranch was incredible. It was an acre of land at the back of their family home, with more than enough space for the large amount of Hippogriffs that his mother kept.

They had spent most of the morning walking through the dense forest and open fields with Newt introducing each creature they came across as if it was capable of remembering her. He seemed more than proud and in his element, naming each creatures individual characteristics. 'This is Percy, he gets a little temperamental this time of year – must be all the hot air. It plays havoc with his feathers.' They had helped his mother feed a few of them too (Sylvia had gotten ferret blood on her blouse, which she wasn't too pleased about) and then had iced tea on their backyard decking. To Sylvia, everything about his life and family seemed ideal, to say the least.

Mrs. Scamander had fussed over her the moment she had stepped through their open fire-place, constantly commenting on how she wished she had a daughter, before quickly retracting her statement with a 'but instead I've been blessed with two beautiful sons!' to which Newt blushed fiercely. It had been the greatest day Sylvia had in a long time. It was almost easy to forget that her father was wasting away at home and her mother was currently detained in a Ministry cell.

After their tea, they had sat quietly for a moment on the outside decking before Sylvia told Newt everything that had happened. She had not looked him in the eye, instead staring out into the beautiful fields and distant trees. It was so quiet.

"I'll come with you," He blurted out suddenly. "I-if you want, I mean. I hear they can be stressful and I thought maybe you would like a friend or company or... something."

Sylvia smiled at him. They had been friends for nearly two years now, and he still was cautious about what he said – afraid that he would say the wrong thing and that Sylvia would yell at him in disgust and never talk to him again.

"It's quite alright. I did some reading and found they're more boring than anything." She said, trying to look at him confidently. The hearing didn't worry her far as much as it should have – she was more worried about its aftermath. She could find herself returning to Hogwarts with one less parent.

His mother came bounding out of the back door at that moment. "I just thought! You haven't even ridden one yet, have you, Sylvia? Newt, bring Polly along, she's the nicest!"

Sylvia nearly choked on her tea. The witch had managed to get out of riding them in class after one had attacked her (after she did insult it), and she had no intention of getting on ever after that. A broomstick was troublesome enough, but a broomstick didn't have a mind of its own with very large and sharp talons.

Newt quickly disappeared into the big barn that stood a short distance away before Sylvia could begin to protest. His mother disappeared back into the house, mumbling something into about getting her 'camera'.

Standing up, Sylvia tried to run over to the barn, quickly trying to come up with some excuse on why she couldn't ride. 'Oh, sorry Newt, my knee's playing up' or something of that ilk.

"Newt-" She called, the name dying in her throat as she heard him talking to something. "Who are you-" The barn door was cracked open slightly, and Sylvia stopped before it as she heard what he was saying.

"Now, stop that Polly, I have someone you'd like to meet." She peeked her head around the door slightly and saw Newt stroking a Hippogriffs beak, cooing to it slightly as it tried to nuzzle him. "Someone quite important to me, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to maim her." Sylvia's heart palpated. "She's not... the best with creatures, so do try and be patient with her."

She had the distinct feeling she wasn't meant to hear that, so she quickly retreated back a good distance, and began walking slowly towards the barn again. Timing it perfectly, she was a couple of feet away from the barn door as it slid open, and out came Newt with the Hippogriff. It was a majestic thing, with a much lighter colouration than the others she had seen. It's bright, white feathers practically shone in the sun.

He stopped a little distance away, and Sylvia recited her Care of Magical Creatures practices,n bowing low. Her forehead began to moisten - and not just from the heat. After a couple of seconds, the beast too bowed and she stood there – the very picture of anxiety. Newt seemed fully confident, waving Sylvia over. She walked over hesitantly, stroking the creature's beak as if it were made of glass.

"Don't they have... saddles or something?" Sylvia asked, knowing the question sounded ridiculous.

"No, no. They hate any restrictive bindings. Polly's our most experienced flyer, you'll be in safe hands." He said, gesturing her to come around its side. "Just hop on."

Sylvia cast him one last nervous look, before placing her hands on its back. She tried to hoist herself up, and in her nervousness, slipped with a yelp and would have completely fallen backward if it weren't for Newt catching her. She quickly straightened herself, blushing slightly.

"You don't have to if you're not-" Newt started, now seeing Sylvia's evident anxiety.

"No." She said sternly. "If I can eat my mother's cooking then I can certainly ride this bird. Horse." She coughed. "This creature."

"Perhaps it would be easier if I rode with you?" He said gingerly. "I can help you up."

Sylvia nodded profusely, thinking it a much wiser idea to have someone with her when she would inevitably plummet to her death. She shook the thought out of her head quickly.

With the grace of practice, it took Newt one attempt to mount the creature, it stretching its wings slightly in response. He scooted back so his legs were behind the beast's wings and held out his hand. Sylvia grasped it tightly, and with a strength that surprised her, he lifted her up and onto its back safely. Just having her feet dangling that far off of the ground made her nauseous.

"Wait!" His mother beckoned, running over to the pair of them with a strange contraption in her hands. "A perfect picture moment, hold still! You too, Polly."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, but the beast underneath her seemed to still.

"Look this way... Come on Newt, you've got a gorgeous smile – let's see it!" This only caused Newt to look more flustered than smiley and Sylvia gave an uneasy grin. After a few moments, an almost blinding flash went off, and her mother quickly wished them good luck before retreating back to the house.

Sylvia rubbed her semi-blinded eyes. "Does she do that often?"

"Any chance she can get." He said. She couldn't see him, but he sounded quite annoyed. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Sylvia sighed.

With a kick of his leg, Polly trotted into a gallop.

No turning back now, Sylvia thought, her heart in her throat.

After a small period of galloping, Polly began to beat her wings and they began to soar into the air at a sharp incline.

Something like a squeal left Sylvia's throat as she felt herself sliding backward across Polly's smooth feathers. Newt wrapped his arms around her securely. Had she been aware of anything but the cucumber sandwiches they had earlier rising to greet her again, she may have been flustered at the intimacy of everything.

Once high above their tallest trees, they levelled out again and Polly soared around with ease, flapping her wings occasionally. Newt had not removed his arms from around her waist but Sylvia made no complaints at the extra security. She was pressed close against his front, but she was too busy looking below her to feel anything other than fear. Her thighs locked tightly around the beast.

Polly decided to swoop back down suddenly and Sylvia's heart did another leap. Their feet were almost touching the tree tops.

"If I ever make it down alive, Newt, I am never doing this again!" She cried aloud and Newt laughed in her ear.

They climbed high into the air again, Polly cawing loudly into the bright sky. Sylvia couldn't see anything for miles but open plains and rolling hills.

"It's beautiful." She muttered, too captivated by the breath-taking scenery that for a moment she forgot she was very high in the air.

"It is," Newt said behind her. It was now she realised she could feel the vibrations in his chest as he spoke – they were that close. She feigned ignorance and pretended not to be bothered by it. She very much was.

It seemed like an eternity, spent soaring what appeared to be infinite skies around his mother's ranch, and it didn't feel like long until the sun started to lower in the sky.

Passing over Newt's farmhouse for the umpteenth time, his mother called out loudly that dinner was ready, and Polly lowered herself gracefully back onto the ground, kicking up the dry earth around them. Newt finally released Sylvia as soon as they were back on the ground and dismounted the Hippogriff with ease. She, on the other hand, more slid off of it – her legs feeling like feathers. Forcing herself to stand, she let out a long, deep sigh of relief as her feet touched the solid ground once again.

"That was... certainly something new," Sylvia said, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

Newt smiled. "We... could always get back on again?"

"Gosh, no!" She barked before she could stop herself, realising that he was only teasing. He laughed loudly, and they started to shepherd Polly back into her stable.

The barn itself had an enchantment on it. What seemed like a regular-sized barn on the outside was more of a several-story building on the inside – filled with many paddocks on different levels. Sylvia stared around the barn, not quite believing what she was seeing. Newt noticed her staring as he walked Polly back to where he retrieved her.

"Ingenious, isn't it?" He said.

She hummed her agreement, eyes fixated on a Hippogriff that was flying up to its paddock on a higher level. "I could do with a bag like this."

Once finished, they returned back to his home and was greeted with a wonderfully prepared Sunday dinner. Sylvia's mother mainly cooked German food to please her father's traditional tastes. It was only until she had started at Hogwarts that she had started eating English food, and a properly prepared Sunday dinner with all the trimmings was fast becoming her favourite meal. Newt's father and brother were there, and the conversation came fast and easy for them all. It did, however, become slightly tense when Mrs. Scamander had asked about Sylvia's mother, but she handled it quickly and said her mother was doing well – not wanting to upset the friendly atmosphere with such dark matters. Dessert was as well prepared and plentiful, and Sylvia had to almost waddle out of the house when they were finished.

What little time they had after dinner, they spent sitting on the front porch watching the stars. Sylvia had seen quite enough star-charts to last her a lifetime, picking Arithmancy as her other elective, but the sky that covered Newt's home was clear and beautiful - and seeing them there was a lot more exciting than in a crowded, stuffy classroom. They spent a little time pointing out constellations and stars of importance before Newt changed the conversation.

"I'm sorry if today has been a little boring." He said quietly. "I know it's not quite as exciting as-"

"What?" Sylvia choked. "Boring?" Newt looked a little surprised at his friend's shock. "Newt, sitting in a classroom learning about the history of star-charts are boring. What you have here is... amazing. I feel very lucky to have even been invited." She said honestly. If anything she was purely envious – he got to see this every day if he chose. Sylvia's life was so plain that she could name you how many cracks there were in her bathroom tiles.

"Really?" Newt said as if this was the oddest thing she had ever come out with. "I was scared you weren't going to enjoy yourself, no-one ever really seems interested in Hippogriff's that much." Sylvia couldn't really say she was their biggest fan, but she'd definitely have fond memories attached to them now.

"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you." She chuckled. "I don't think I could name a day I enjoyed more." The quiet of the evening was astounding, apart from the chirp of a cricket or a distant caw of a Hippogriff.

"Will you come back?" He asked, looking at the ground in front of her.

"If you'll have me." She said tenderly.

They never did arrange another day, Sylvia noted a few years later. Perhaps it was better that it was never repeated because it would never be as sweet or as joyful as it was the first time. The rare times she came upon a picture of a Hippogriff, or a drawing, the ghost of a smile would always grow on her face at the memory of that day.

Trouble was brewing in Europe, both in the wizarding world and muggle one – but a storm was coming for Sylvia, one that she could not have foreseen, and it had nothing to do with her mother or dark wizards.

It came in the form of a small, sweet, dark-haired girl – Leta Lestrange.