Chapter Text
Newt blinks with confusion, staring at the horizon. Or what had been the horizon. It is one of his favourite things about ocean travel – turning to face the vast expanse of water with no land in sight, knowing the enormous distance ahead to be crossed. It makes him feel adventurous – but settled too. Its not as if there is any place on the ship to go except what was within it's sides.
Only, it's not the ocean ahead of them now. Instead the bow of the ship has been turned, quite abruptly, back towards New York City, the harbour once more within sight.
"What in Merlin name," Newt murmurs and steps closer to the metal baluster, peering ahead. They are making landfall, the ship turning subtly towards one of the piers.
There are other passengers on the deck and with a frown Newt turns to the closest one. "Excuse me – did something happen?"
The woman gives him a surprised look, almost dropping her suitcase. "How do you mean?" she asks.
"I mean why are we docking?" Had there been an accident on board the ship, or was there something wrong with the ship itself or...?
"Well we're here, sir?" the muggle woman says, looking at him strangely. "We've arrived and we can't very well disembark unless we dock, can we?"
"But..." Newt starts to say and then trails off, looking at the other passengers. They're all ready to disembark judging by the looks of them, all of them eying the city ahead of them excitedly. Then, confused, Newt looks up at the ship itself.
Its not the Royal Star, the ship he'd left New York on. Its HMS Temeresi – the ship he'd arrived on.
Though he feels a bit like someone had knocked him badly over the head, Newt somehow makes it through the muggle customs without causing an incident. After that he stares at New York like he's never seen it before, which he thinks maybe he hasn't?
Idly wondering if Dougal had managed to sneak those mushrooms into tea again, Newt wanders into the busy streets of New York. He has Fleury's add in his pocket and no Grindelwald related injuries that he can feel and the niffler keeps popping the suitcase locks open as if he hasn't been sating his lust for all things glittery by robbing half the jewellery in the city. Its all both new and terribly familiar.
Newt takes the first opportunity to sit down – and only belatedly realises he's sat down on the steps of a very familiar muggle bank.
Then he gets up again, sets his suitcase down on its side – and sits on top of it instead.
"... all dazzle and bewitch us," a voice calls out over the crowd in front of the bank. "But where there is light there is shadow, friend!"
Newt frowns, looking up. First thing he sees is Tina Goldstein nonchalantly eating a hotdog in the crowd of muggles, with mustard on her upper lip. Then he sees Jacob, pushing his way through the crowd. Then he sees Credence Barebone, holding a fistful of black and white leaflets.
Then he sees events changing.
Jacob hurries through the crowd and into the bank, unhindered by a British wizard. Tina keeps her eyes on Mary Lou Barebone and her vile speech, never noticing Jacob – or Newt for that matter. Credence never looks up, keeping his head turned meekly down.
Newt stares, fascinated, as history changes.
Then the realisation that Credence Barebones is standing less than twenty feet from him, alive and not yet a killer, catches up with him and Newt jumps to his feet.
And that's of course when the niffler escapes.
Newt stares, confused, at his hands. He's not sure what happened there. One moment he was looking for the niffler – next he'd been face to face with an important looking muggle man and then there was the occamy egg...
"So, Mr. Scamander, " the muggle banker says. "Tell me why are you looking for a loan."
"Um," Newt says. He's really not looking for a loan, especially not a muggle loan – terribly fastidious about money, muggles. What he wants is to get his niffler and then hope that the Second Salemers haven't left yet and he can still catch up with Credence...
Except the muggle man is holding an occamy egg in hand and Newt is rather stuck.
"Well I was hoping to open up a... shop?" Newt offers awkwardly, glancing around. Could he just confound this man and be on his way?
"An antique shop?" the banker asks interestedly, eying the egg.
"Something like that?" Newt asks uncertainly and then holds out a hand. "Could I please – "
"We'll have to get this verified, you understand," the muggle man says severely. "It has a strange patina, this egg – it's not like any Faberge Egg I've ever seen."
"I'm sure it isn't but – please be careful with that, it's very delicate," Newt pleads. Delicate – and also about to hatch, which is infinitely worse.
"Of course," the muggle says and sets the egg down. It wobbles a little. "Now let's talk about your plans – have you scouted for a location..."
Newt tries to keep up with what he's saying, while keeping an eye on the egg, while also keeping an eye out for the niffler. Most of what the muggle is saying goes completely over his head and he keeps fretting over Credence, surely the rally would be over by now...
"Well then, I do believe everything is in order – we'll just have a specialist take a look at this and –" the banker reaches for the egg – and that's when it cracks.
Time freezes just for one moment balancing on a knifes edge. Then Newt jumps up from his chair and snatches the egg up – it's hatching.
"Oh no," the banker says, his face bleached of colour. "Oh no, oh my god – Mr. Scamander, I can't even tell how sorry I am – please – please hold a moment, I must get Mr. Bingley –"
The muggle man stumbles out of the office, leaving Newt blissfully alone with the hatching occamy. Newt aims all his attention on the egg, watching the shell crack, watching little beak breach the surface.
"Hey there – that's it, just look at me," Newt says softly. "That's right, I'll be your mother, you can safely imprint on me, there you go..."
The occamy chirps at him and with a grin Newt cups his hand for her, tilting the egg as he does. She slithers into the welcoming warmth of his palm, curling in the little hollow he made for her and he drops the shell on the desk in order to figure out where to hide her.
Pickett puts up bit of a fuss when he slides the occamy down his pocket to join him – but Newt can only shush him silent because that's when the banker comes back, with yet another, even more important looking muggle.
They look at him. Then at the silver eggshells on the table. And then back at him.
Newt swallows. "I am so sorry," he says quickly while we turning so that there is no chance of a purple little snake of being seen. "I didn't mean to cause such a fuss."
"No, no, Mr. Scamander, the fault is certainly ours – you may sure Mr. Yates will face disciplinary actions for his mishandling of precious goods," the new muggle says hastily and comes closer. "Steen National Bank would like to offer its most sincere apologies – if there is anything at all we can do...."
"Well," Newt says, inspiration striking. "There is one thing."
The muggles look like they're about to faint. Their vault is a mess, even worse mess than the last time around. Shelves have been upturned, storage drawers flipped over every which way. Its chaos.
In the middle of it all there is Newt's niffler, pouch fat with gold.
"Oh good lord," Mr. Bingley says while Mr. Yates draws choked, panicked breaths. "We need to call security, we must –"
Quick Newt hits them both with a confundus.
Getting the niffler is easy this time, if nothing else – he's so heavy with stolen goods that he can barely waddle, never mind his usual agile scamper. Newt catches the niffler by the leg and teases as much of the gold out of him as he can manage in the short time he has before the muggles come to their senses. Then he shoves the little thief into his suitcase, wincing at the clatter of precious metal echoing after him, before very firmly locking the case.
He smoothly steps between the two muggle bankers and releases the confundus.
"Oh good lord," Mr. Bingley says while Mr. l Yates draws choked, panicked breaths. "We need to call security, we must get to the bottom of this – we've been robbed!"
Somehow Newt ends up walking out of the bank with a case full of money. "Compliments of Steen National Bank," they'd assured him over and over – before telling him, many times, that he would of course not be going to the papers, would he? Because there was certainly no reason to involve the press, was there?
Newt is still a bit confused by the whole sequence of events when he steps out, now carrying two suitcases – his own and the complimentary one from the bank. Its all a bit fantastical. Maybe he's having a dream after all.
Then there is Jacob, dejectedly sitting on the bank steps. The New Salem Philanthropic Society meeting is long since over judging by the looks of it, and it's a little less crowded now.
"You didn't get your loan then?" Newt asks.
Jacob startles and then sighs. "That obvious, huh?" he then asks with bleak humour.
Newt shifts his footing a little. "I'm sorry," he offers.
"Yeah, well – that's life for you, " Jacob says and then looks at him. "Looks like you had better luck."
"If you can call it that," Newt mutters. He's not entirely sure if he just robbed a bank or not but it feels a bit like he did – and then got a pat on the back for it. It's a very peculiar feeling.
"Well congratulations to you – hope you succeed in whatever you're doing," Jacob says with a sigh and stands up. "I should be off, stop loitering and all that."
"Ah –" Newt says and then hesitates. What to say, what to say.... "Listen, did you see the meeting going on here?"
"Those lu – people with the witchcraft stuff?" Jacob asked and shakes his head. "Not really my thing, gotta tell ya."
"Yes – well, no, " Newt says and shakes his head. "Mine neither – but I was wondering, did you see which way they went?"
"Why'd you want to know?" the muggle asks with a confused frown. "If you're not interested?"
"Ah that is..." Newt thinks about it and then shrugs. "The woman beats her children. I was going to try and... do something about it."
Jacob states at him. "That's... bit of an accusation."
Newt shrugs. "Its also true," he says and then glances down. The occamy is peeking out of his pocket. He really needs to get somewhere more private. "Did you see which way they went?"
"Well," Jacob says slowly. "Maybe. You sure she's beating her kids though?"
"I'm absolutely certain," Newt agrees.
Jacob considers it for a moment and then nods, making a decision. He gets up and grabs his suitcase. "Alright," he says determinedly. "I'll show where they went."
They end up at a church. A very grim and gloomy looking church.
"Yikes," Jacob says, peering at some posters plastered all over the alley walls. "What is this, the sixteen hundreds?"
"Sometimes I wonder," Newt agrees and chews his lip as he considers the church. Its apparently the head quarters of New Salem Philanthropic Society. And Credence's home. But what to do next? Just barge in?
As they watch the church doors are opened and a girl Newt thinks is possibly part of the Barebone family steps out. She has a bell on hand and starts ringing it at the street, peering along it as if expecting something.
"That's the most depressing dinner bell I've ever heard," Jacob comments.
It seems to do its job though – a number if children all but materialise as if out of thin air, summoned by the bell. They run to the church, stop at the door to nervously straighten their clothes and comb their fingers through their hair, before stepping in.
"So they do charity work, huh?" Jacob asks. "Now what?"
"Now we go in and... and see what we can see," Newt says and then frowns. "I suppose just going in would be a little rude."
Jacob considers him. "You didn't plan this at all, huh?"
"Not really, no," Newt agrees with a sigh. This is why he doesn't like dealing with people. People take planning. "I just want to... to help, that's all. I'm not entirely sure how. Getting into the church would be a start, however."
"Well," Jacob says thoughtfully. Then he looks down at his suitcase. "Maybe we can do a bit of charity too."
"It really is no trouble at all, " Jacob assures Mary Lou with a charming smile. "These are just some samples – I would never be able to eat them by myself, they'd be wasted! No, please – I insist, let the children have them."
Jacob, Newt is quickly realising, is both the best person he's ever met – and possibly some sort of chaotic force of nature. The whirling billywig that caused a hurricane, that was Jacob.
Though to be fair, Jacob wouldn't be so destructive if he didn't have a innate ability of grabbing Newt's suitcase at the precise wrong time.
"What – what?" Jacob stammers as what was charming sharing of various baked goods quickly turns into a collapsing church and erumpent tearing her way through the alleys.
Newt sighs and confounds screaming Mary Lou while her shell shocked children and various New York street urchins stare in horror. "This will be a bother and a half to fix," he muses.
"What was that?" Jacob demands. "It just... tore through the wall? Was it a rhino or -?"
"And how did it get in a suitcase?" one of the street boys asks.
"Was it magic?" another demands to know.
"Are you a witch?" the youngest Barebone asks and everyone holds their breath.
"A wizard, actually," Newt says absently and considers the collapsed wall. Now he could fix it, probably should fix it – but on other had he could just... not fix it. Maybe without the church the vile organisation operating from it would die.
"Like a... stage wizard?" the elder Barebone girl asks
"Never been on a stage in my life, reckon I'd be bit rubbish at it," Newt shakes his head and puts his wand away. "Well I got an erumpent to catch now," he says and turns at the small army of children. "It will be terribly dangerous and you all should stay here and safe."
Another thing Newt quickly realises is that one should never, ever tell a large group of human young that something is too dangerous for them.