A time jump here. Just watch the entire Qilin-napping sequence from the movie to fill in the blanks.

Long Road Home

Grandmother Willow looked up from her little garden plot to be greeted by the most unusual sight in the morning sun. Some type of bird-snake creature laboriously flapping its wings while holding a grown man. Clucking like a chicken, she hurried off to the local witch. She recognized the man as the foreign wizard she had rescued some months back. Whatever had the young man got himself into now?

The exhausted beast finally collapsed in the village rice paddy, drawing curious whispers and wary looks. Was it a dragon? A demon-bird? No one dared approach the strange creature. At least until Newt came to and crawled out from under the wyvern's wing with his precious Qilin fawn. A bird was sent out to the nearest contact for Master Ang by the witch. The wixen of the mountain river-country were fiercely loyal to their respective clan masters, above that to the Chinese Ministry of Magic. In Kweilin, Master Ang's clan held sway.

In the walled forbidden city, the ministry lackeys might gnash their teeth at the loss of not one but three Qilins, but life went on in the mountain country untouched. The newborn fawn was weak, hungry, and cold. Yet the young thing was clinging onto life with surprising tenacity. Goat's milk was quickly obtained from a neighbour and Newt gave the fawn her first feed. A representative of Master Ang soon arrived with a likely-illegal international Portkey. The young wizard with milky blind eyes had presented Master Ang's token as proof of his identity and mission. He gave his name as Little Sparrow.

They mourned the loss of the mother Qilin and the fawn's twin. They could not linger, least news of the twin reached unfriendly ears. The Chinese ministry would seek to shut the fawn in their deepest vault, but who knew if the corruption that afflicted the western Ministries had already reached its tendrils into the upper echelons of the Chinese Ministry as well.

"Minister Liu is ambitious, there is no telling if this might prove too much a temptation for him or the Ministry," Little Sparrow explained as he gingerly felt the fawn's legs for any injuries. In ancient times, rulers had sought to legitimize their rule by capturing and holding a young Qilin – often with dire consequences to the realm.

"The Qilin is a pure beast – only those of pure heart could raise one. If surrounded by hearts of ill-intent and malice, she will sicken. Guard her well, good sir."

Little Sparrow also provided several potions and elixirs to help Newt keep the fawn nourished and healthy during their journey. It would be a complex and tedious process. The first step into Malaya would only be the start. The Old Masters had various lodges across the globe wherever a sizeable Chinese wix community existed. Newt and his precious cargo would pass from Master Ang's care to that of another Master, all bound by honour and sworn to secrecy by magic. There was no telling where or when his and the fawn's journey would end.

Once he was resupplied and all his wayward menagerie gathered back into his suitcase with its newest resident, Newt thanked the villagers and Little Sparrow. Taking his suitcase in one hand, he took the Portkey, a hand fan, from Master Ang's representative. He activated the Portkey as was instructed and felt the swirl of colours that marked all Portkey travel. When he came to, he was sprawled on the floor of a smoky shack in some tropical clime.

"Welcome, sir. If you wish to be sick, kindly do so in the bucket…" his new host, a wizen crone with a smoking pipe cackled. She was clad only in a patterned length of cloth wound about the chest. "Bathing facilities are out back. Dinner will be served shortly if you feel up to it."

An opium-den. Newt's muddled mind supplied as he peered into the front room and saw beds filled with reclining men with pipes, some comatose, some attended to by tired-looking women.

"Not that way, fool. The other door," the old crone snapped. Newt murmured an apology and hastened to the back door which opened onto a walled courtyard. His hostess would send him and his precious cargo forward via railroad to Singapore the next day with a guide.

Aurelius was amazed at how soft and warm the little fawn's nose felt as it nuzzled him. Somehow, the task of feeding the fawn had fallen on the youngest member of the motley group. Carrow had managed to secure milk from the market after they Portkeyed back to Shanghai's international concession. The beast was not doing well and feeding poorly. Vinda and Krafft had gone to arrange an international Portkey out of the country. Between the chaos of a war and their need for secrecy, the

China will burn. No, the world will burn… Their contact had predicted ominously when they Portkeyed into his living room with Qilin fawn in tow. He had tossed back more vodka before setting about packing his bags. Ilyich was long gone when they all woke up the next morning. He had left cold blinis and vodka in the kitchen and the keys on the table for them. He had even taken the house-elves, for none responded to Carrow's orders.

"There, there…" Aurelius coaxed as the fawn bleated piteously. She next sicked up the milk, which Aurelius vanished from the floor. The front door slammed shut below. Raised voices in German. Aurelius caught the words 'Portkey' and 'Japanese embassy'. Perhaps he should start packing his few belongings too. Vinda might have just secured their ticket out of China.

Aurelius grabbed his spare clothes and threw them carelessly into his suitcase. The Qilin blinked and starred at him with her starry eyes. She rattled her back scales.

"Cold?" Aurelius grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. She bleated and nuzzled his hand. No one would mind if he lingered in his room a little longer before going down for his lunch. He sat down on the narrow bed and allowed the fawn to climb into his lap.

The weather in London was unseasonably wet. Rain might go unremarked on by the locals but not even the stoutest of brollies could withstand the current downpour and howling gale. The last person Theseus expected on his doorstep in a blustery rainstorm was his bedraggled brother.

"H-hi, T-thee," Newt forced out through chattering teeth. He hugged his suitcase close to his chest. The last Portkey had dumped them a good distance from his place and given the late hour, he did not wish to bother Bunty or his house-elf. Also, he was too spent to Apparate home.

Theseus bit back a swear word as he all but dragged his brother in and shut the door against the gale. He summoned hot chocolate and towels before lighting the fire in the hearth. Newt felt half-frozen. Theseus waved his wand over Newt, casting a Quick-dry Spell on his sodden clothes before all but shoving him into an armchair.

"M-must contact Professor D-Dumb…"

"No, you must get warm first… Not a word, Newt! Months without a word, not even one measly owl! Mother and Father were so worried…" Theseus raged. It was not uncommon for his younger brother to disappear for weeks on end without sending an owl. Some places his magizoologist work took him to were just too remote for regular contact but knowing Newt had somehow gotten himself involved fighting against Grindelwald's Alliance… that was another level of danger entirely.

"S-sorry, Thee… I must check on my friends…" Newt placed his suitcase flat on the floor and made to undo the latch.

"No, finish your chocolate first," Theseus insisted. "I will send word to the Professor, though I doubt he could make it down to London at this unearthly hour. Where on earth have you been the past two weeks?"

There had been a report from a former schoolmate of Theseus' in Singapore, asking if his brother needed any help as someone who looked like the famous magizoologist had been seen in the company of a disreputable local witch. Perhaps she was looking for fresh potion ingredients? Newt had Portkeyed out by the time the local Auror office took said witch in for illegal potion ingredients trading.

"C-China, the East Indies, India, Cairo… and some village in the Pyrenees… Now let me go see to my friends," Newt insisted. Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, Theseus allowed his brother to descend into his suitcase. He remained in the living room to greet Dumbledore should he Floo in. He did not have to wait long after he fire-called Dumbledore's personal Floo.

"Theseus, my lad. Good to see you… Where's Newt?" Albus greeted him warmly.

"Down here, sit!" Newt's voice called up from below.

Albus eagerly descended into the depths of the suitcase. Snatches of conversation drifted up to Theseus as he poured himself a brandy.

"Brilliant work, boy… Now we should get her to my brother…"

"Thank you, sir. She is a real darling, isn't she?"

Only Newt would refer to a dragon or some life-threatening creature as a darling or a beauty. They're just misunderstood… Newt would always argue whenever he brought some poor injured, likely dangerous creature home. His jars of baby Grindylows were manageable. He promised to free them into a suitable pool of water when they were old enough. Theseus cringed at the memory of the jarvey his brother had reared in school – the one that got him sent down from Hogwarts. Theseus decided he did not wish to know what Newt brought home this time. At least not tonight.

Distantly, he heard a clock tower chime two in the morning.

"We should be off to Aberforth's now to get her settled…"

Newt and their old professor both emerged from the suitcase. Newt was beaming as Theseus would have back in school if he had made Head Boy and singlehandedly won the House Cup. Which probably meant whatever he had in that suitcase of his was in violation of multiple British magical creature laws.

"I am going to bed. See yourself off. Floo powder's in the Wedgewood bowl."

As much he wanted to know what plans his former professor had to fight Grindelwald, he was not ready to deal with it now.

"Bugger, that ain't a goat kid…"

Aberforth rubbed his hand over his face when he stepped into his tavern's taproom to be greeted by the sight of his brother and a redhead former student – along with a gangly fawn-like creature prancing about them. He wished it was a dream, but he had definitely woken up when his Floo-wards went off and trust his brother to work out how to bypass the warding that shut his tavern's Floo outside pub hours. Perhaps he should take his tavern off the Floo entirely.

"If you'd stop it from eating the curtains, I'd fetch it some milk…" Aberforth fastened the belt of his dressing gown and padded into the kitchen in his slippers.

Grindelwald was displeased. They had been away for months, but Aurelius could see the displeasure in the man's poise and his step. The fawn was sickly and weak. She stumbled blindly in the icy courtyard as they watched and waited their master's judgement. Then she was dead. Her blood staining the flagstones darkly. Someone stifled a gasp.

Aurelius felt his heart seize. The little trusting creature he had nursed throughout their journey through China, Russia, and Persia before finally making it home to Nurmengard. Overhead, his phoenix screamed as if in protest.

Why? He mouthed the words as Grindelwald drew close. He knew the answer.

For the Greater Good, his master had always said with that benign smile. A pat on the shoulder, a superficial show of approval. It was the same as with Graves back in New York. Words of encouragement, crumbs of affection interspersed with threats of punishment. Sometimes actual punishment.

"You should not have let that wizard escape…" a frown. He looked back over his shoulder and shouted for the other acolytes to put the little corpse in stasis.

"Come with me, Aurelius my boy. I hope you still remember who your true enemy is…"

"Yes, sir…"

High above the courtyard, Bedivere groaned as he watched the slaughter of the Qilin. He offered up a prayer to any saints who might be listening still. Severine rubbed her belly and whispered a prayer. The intentional death of a pure creature like the Qilin was a great evil which blighted everything in the vicinity. As a blood mage, she had expected to feel the repercussions of any magical blood spilled, for better or worse. The death of the baby Qilin had hit her far harder than expected. She reached for her husband., shaking him awake.

"Sever…"

"Get the healer… it hurts…" she gasped as the cramps took hold. It was far too early for the child to survive.

Author's Notes:

I suppose we can gloss over the events in New York and Germany… I let there be some weeks or months between the Qilin-napping and the candidates' dinner – enough time for Dumbledore to get all his pawns in place.