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Chapter Text

Everything hurt. Under normal circumstances, this would be a horrible state, but at the moment, Tina was just glad it wasn't any worse. Hours ago (or was it days ago? She didn't know) she'd been wracked with spasms and bursts of frost and extreme heat and the feeling of being torn to shreds. First the spasms stopped, then the heat...now it was just the occasional hit of cold and that pounding sensation that she was sure must be like getting hit with an automobile over and over and over.

Still, she was alive, and as far as anyone had told her she hadn't lost any appendages. And that was something of a miracle.

She'd briefly registered people passing in and out of the room she'd been placed in. Queenie she'd heard several times, talking to her about how she was in the hospital in Albany, how everything was going to be all right and that she was getting better even if it didn't feel like it, that the healers were sure she'd pull through eventually. Then there was the occasional healer sent to pour another potion down her throat to help keep the worst of the pain at bay as they tried another countercurse to take away the bone-deep chills. Morrigan's crows, if they could get rid of the chills, handling the pummeling would be so much simpler. She thought a few times she might have seen Mr. Graves's face, but she couldn't be sure if that was the present or if she was remembering the scene of the raid. That raid...why had she been so stupid? It hadn't been three people in there, it had been at least a dozen, some who clearly knew how to counter Auror spells. They must have been hiding out there, living there for weeks, there's no way she could have missed them otherwise what with her spell detectors and her surveillance of the street.

At least she remembered Queenie telling her that she was the worst off of the lot that had gone in. That was a relief. Russo's wife had just had that baby, and Yates was only a year off retirement...

The thoughts of her coworkers drifted out of her head as her eyelids drifted open to a bright light. She was still lying down on that marginally-soft surface that was probably supposed to be a bed, covered in a blanket that the chills told her was far too thin. Tina blinked; the light above her was still nearly blinding, though she couldn't be sure it wasn't a side effect of one of the curses or the potions she was taking.

"Mercy, she's come to at last!" Tina heard shuffling steps, and then the light above her head was blocked by a curl-framed familiar face. "Teenie, love, don't try to strain yourself. The healers said your vision and hearing might be blurry for a few days after you've come to since...well, it doesn't matter now. But don't you dare scare me like that again!" Queenie sniffed and clasped Tina's hand in both of hers.

Tina blinked at her sister in wonder, vision clearing slightly. How long had she been out? Had Queenie been sitting here the whole time waiting for her? Jacob would be worried sick if it had been long.

"You're my sister, Teen. You come first. He'll understand once you're well enough that we can go home so I can tell him what's happened."

"Miss Goldstein, if I may…" a softly accented, distantly familiar voice said from out of Tina's range of vision, "would it be at all of a help to you if you took some time to return to New York to rest and inform Mr. Kowalski of what's happened? I can sit with her for a few hours."

Mercy Lewis, why was he—of all people—here?

Queenie hesitated. "You're sure?"

"I swear I won't move from this room unless instructed so by your sister herself or a healer," he promised.

"And if something were to happen…"

"I'll Aparate to New York to get you myself."

Queenie paused again, then turned back to face Tina, and by all that was good and holy, Tina couldn't think of a time Queenie looked so run-down, dark circles under her eyes, face completely free of her usual makeup, and curls in disarray. She looked like she needed the rest very badly.

"Tina, are you all right with me leaving you alone with Mr. Scamander for a bit?" Queenie asked softly. "You don't have to answer out loud, just think it."

Yes, Tina was okay with Queenie leaving her alone with Mr. Scamander, anything required to get Queenie to feel comfortable enough to take a decent nap...but why was he here in the first place? Had she been out of it so long that his expected visit timeline had already come up? And Mercy Lewis, she must look like an utter wreck confined to a hospital bed wracked with curse symptoms.

"No, you've just been out two days. We'll explain everything once you're well enough that you can talk," Queenie promised. "And you aren't a wreck; you're a heroine. But we'll talk about that later." Her sister dropped a kiss on Tina's forehead, squeezed her hand reassuringly, and tiptoed out the door.

Tina willed her head to turn to the side she knew Mr. Scamander had to be standing on, and she managed to shift it just enough that she could see him. He'd had a haircut recently, she realized vaguely, and his blue overcoat—it was July, why was he wearing it in July?—hung on him slightly differently, but he looked as nervous as he had when he'd last saw her. Oddly enough, it was reassuring; she didn't want to be the only one between them who was nervous. But she needed to do something, say something to break the tense silence that hung over the room.

"How—" she coughed, throat dry from disuse. "How'd you know?"

"Your sister sent word with Nigel. I wasn't exactly certain how quickly I could—" He clamped his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. "Sorry. It doesn't matter at the moment. The healers said you're not to be overwhelmed."

"The healers also said that I've come this far, so I'll pull through the rest of the way eventually," she decided to leave out the part about the pummeling and the chills, "even if you overwhelm me with stories of your travelling. I'm glad you're here, Mr. Scamander, truly."

He made a face that looked like he couldn't decide whether to be pleased or saddened. "I wish I'd come at a time when circumstances weren't so dire."

"I'm an Auror. In the world we live in, circumstances are usually dire." Tina tried to smile—anything to lighten the mood—but the movement made her wince instead.

"Well, err…" He began to fish through his overcoat pockets. "I suppose that in such circumstances, perhaps a little light reading would be welcome while you recuperate?" He seemed to find what he was looking for, and he placed it on her stomach so she could reach it with her limited energy. It was made of paper, a bit more than half an inch thick, warm from being held inside his coat in early July.

"Your book?" She ran her fingers slowly over the paper cover and around the edges.

"It's paperback for the first printing," he said, almost apologetic. "The publisher says they may do a second printing hardbound if the first printing sells well. It's technically a test print, so some of the type may be a little off-center, but I wanted to make sure I got a copy to you before—sorry, rambling again."

She breathed out through her nose in the closest thing to an amused snort she could manage. "Could you help me sit up so I can see it?"

"Of course." His arm came around under hers to gently pull her up into something resembling a sitting position. A thought made its way through her pain-addled brain: because he seemed to be crumpled in on himself all the time, she'd always assumed he was on the delicate side, but she ought to have realized that constantly hauling magical creatures and their food around would result in the solid muscle she now felt supporting her weight. It almost made her sad when he pulled away, and she wasn't sure why.

From her higher vantage point, she noticed a familiar case sitting near the door. "Mr. Graves is not going to be happy about that," she noted.

"I've already discussed it with him. I left the problematic case with an old friend in Ontario; this version is within legal Expansion limits. Which, actually…" he bustled over to the case, flipped it open with a practiced hand, and hopped inside, leaving Tina to look at the book in her hands.

Her fingers traced over the shiny ink lettering of the cover: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. He'd actually used the title...it had only been a joke back in December, when he hadn't had a working title and she'd teasingly insisted that he call it that until he had a better name. The corners of her eyes prickled like she'd be tearing up if she weren't so blasted dehydrated. Carefully, she flipped through the book, noting that the sketches weren't nearly as bad as he had led her to believe (or the engravers had taken great liberty with them...either worked) and that her eyesight was still on the blurry side, drat it. She'd have to wait until the curses wore off a little more before she could read the fine print of the text.

About five minutes later, Tina heard shuffling that sounded distinctly like feet on a ladder. She looked over to the case, waiting with nerves she couldn't quite explain until…

Out popped the head of a large reddish-colored bird. It blinked at Tina, and Tina, not knowing what else to do, blinked back. A few seconds later she could see the bird's long wings held loosely at its sides, then its body, then glinting claws perched atop a familiar head of auburn hair. When Mr. Scamander finally stepped out of the case onto the floor, she could see a trail of long golden tail feathers dangling down his back.

"Is that…?" Tina could have sworn she'd read about these birds somewhere or another, but if it was what she thought, it was incredibly rare. How did he manage to get ahold of one?

"This," Mr. Scamander reached up above his head to gently take the bird's weight and deposit her on the bedside stool," is Isis," he finished gently, holding out his finger so Isis could rub her face against it. "I found her in Panama where she...she needed rescuing from her keeper. She had a broken wing bone this life cycle that healed before it could be set properly, so she's flightless until her next burning day, but she was willing to Aparate me here."

"Phoenixes can Aparate?"

"Close enough to as makes no difference," he shrugged. "They're very intelligent, and once I told her what happened to you, she agreed to help."

"Help?" Tina felt like she had to be sounding like she was asking a long series of stupid questions, but she couldn't summon the energy to be embarrassed. She'd been at Death's door a few days ago, and she wasn't quite sure if she'd climbed down the front steps yet; surely that was an excuse for feeling constantly confused.

"Phoenix tears have incredible properties. They're capable of curing most poisons, including magical ones, but they can also help with mild to moderately-severe curses. When your sister wrote, it wasn't exactly clear how poorly you still were, so..."

Mr. Scamander stopped talking as Isis's attention drifted deliberately towards Tina. The large bird hopped from the stool to Tina's bedside, lumbering into Tina's lap to perch atop the book. Isis stared at Tina, blinking shiny black eyes at her before leaning forward to brush her head against Tina's cheek, leaving a damp trail in her wake before curling her head under her wing and, for all intents and purposes, settled down for a nap.

Tina wasn't entirely sure what to think about what had just happened until she began to feel warmth, the first warmth she'd felt since the raid, creep from her belly out her limbs to her digits, and she breathed deeply for the first time in days just enjoying the simple pleasure of not being cold in July. A minute later, it occurred to her she hadn't felt like she'd recently been thrown into a wall either. Sure, she still felt like she'd been sick for a year and was only now starting to get better, but it was so much better the corners of her eyes started to prickle again.

"Feeling better, Miss Goldstein?"

"Yes, very much,' she sighed in contentment before looking back to him out of the corner of her eye. "Though, considering the fact you've seen me in my pajamas twice now, I think we've reached the point of familiarity for first names."

He chuckled dryly as he slid onto the stool, fanning out his overcoat coat behind him. "Yes, I suppose we have."

"So...Newt," Tina said, looking down to the resting bird on her lap, "what brought you to this part of the world early?"

A strange look came over the magizoologist's face, and Tina feared she'd said the exact wrong thing. Newt looked over his shoulder at the hospital room door for a moment, then back to her, sighing heavily.

"It's Credence. I—we rushed to Canada for Credence."

Chapter Text

Tina blinked. "But...he died. Credence died." Didn't he?

Newt shook his head. "Credence hid, in the tunnels of the underground. I went back for him after everything calmed down to talk with him, get him to come with me."

"And you smuggled him out in your case?" That meant Credence had been in her apartment for a week, hiding, and she'd never known, never had the slightest inkling...

"Yes. He stayed in there until we went to Brazil. He's been an amazing assistant, quite good with the creatures that don't startle easily."

"And you didn't tell me," Tina finished flatly.

Newt shifted uncomfortably on the rickety stool. "I know I should have told you before I even left for Liverpool. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I truly believed it was wisest not to even speak his name while there was still active investigation. I tried to leave hints in some of my letters, but I've never been the best at that."

"You—" she was suddenly dumbstruck with one obvious, clear clue that had been staring her in the face for months that just now decided to click in her brain. "The photograph. Both your hands are on the snake in the photograph. Someone else must have taken it." How could she have looked at that photograph so much, almost daily to the point where she could recall every detail of its motions off the top of her head and not realized that? She knew moving photographs never moved that much from their original position.

"It's a serpent, technically, but yes. Credence has turned out a fairly gifted photographer as well."

Tina absorbed this information. She'd have to reread all his letters now when she got home, just to find these hints, see everything she'd missed or else it would drive her absolutely insane. But now was not the time for that. "So...what's in Canada for Credence?"

Newt seemed to sense that he was at least temporarily forgiven—wholly forgiven, in truth, but Tina's pride wasn't quite ready to admit that aloud yet—and he settled in a peculiar perch, elbows balanced on his knees. "Two things, really. The first...probably best I don't explain it in full here, but suffice to say that we recently received assurance from the Canadian Ministry's Immigration Office that Credence will be able to live safely and quietly there without any interference. The second is that I have a friend there who's something of an expert at dealing with lost young men, and she's agreed to take Credence on."

Tina raised an eyebrow at that. "There's such a thing as an expert at dealing with lost young men?"

"Well, Mrs. Wigginthorpe took me in at a time in my life when I'm sure I was an absolute nightmare," he smiled wryly, "so I can vouch for her effectiveness. We've been at her farm nearly a week now, and Credence is already much improved. You'd know it if you saw him. He's bonded with the thestrals better than I ever did."

"Thestrals?"

"A particular breed of flying horse. I believe I mention—" Newt stopped short at a rap at the door.

"Miss Goldstein?" A muffled woman's voice with a Creole accent came through the door.

"One moment please," Tina called out, coughing slightly as raising her voice irritated her exceptionally dry throat. Newt immediately dove for the phoenix on Tina's lap, who mercifully didn't squawk at being so rudely awakened and moved away from her warm naptime perch.

"All right, Isis, in you pop," Newt said as he quickly lowered the phoenix into the case, careful to not catch her feathers on the fiberboard edges. He just managed to snap the latches closed before a healer with dark skin and crisp white robes bustled through the door pushing a cart of potions and instruments.

"You're looking a sight better, Miss Goldstein!" the healer said approvingly as she parked the cart by the bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, I think," Tina said.

"We'll have a look, then. That is, once your visitor—?" the healer looked at Newt pointedly.

Newt grabbed for the case and dipped his head, but not quite fast enough to hide his blush. "I'll see myself out. Shall I come back in an hour? I made a promise to her sister not to leave her alone unless necessary."

"I'll be done with her in half that time." The healer slid on a pair of dragonhide gloves. "Coffee for visitors is down the stairs, two doors to the left."

"Thank you." Tina and the healer watched as Newt bustled out the door. Once the door latched behind him, the healer pointed her wand to the doorknob until it clicked locked before turning back to her patient.

"Now, Miss Goldstein, I'm going to levitate you so we can check your bandages without jostling you too much," the healer—Miss Geraldine Denis, Tina read on the nametag as the woman bent to take Tina's book and place it on the side table—said briskly. "If you feel nauseous, let me know, and I'll get you down."

"Bandages?"

The healer's hands stilled as she reached for her wand on the cart. "You took eight severe curses to your body, only three to the limbs and head. We were able to patch you together well enough, no permanent damage, but the marks are healing slowly. Might be best you don't look now; wouldn't want you panicking over nothing while you're in the air."

Tina gulped and tried to stay as still as possible as she felt the tingles of a gentle wingardium leviosa lifting her into the air. As Healer Denis worked around her directing various pieces of fabric off and on her body, Tina kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. She did desperately want to know what damage had been done, but the healer was probably advising her not to look for a reason. Being stripped and unbandaged and poked and prodded while being levitated was nerve-wracking enough, even if it was for her own good. It made her feel like she was balanced on a very thin board where any bump might make her fall.

"Well, Miss Goldstein, it looks like the last of the curses have worn off all at once," the healer said after what felt like an age, a hint of surprise in her tone. "We'll keep you until tomorrow morning for observation to make sure the more severe curses haven't masked anything we aren't aware of, but after that you'll be able to go home to rest and recuperate."

Tina swallowed. "You wouldn't happen to know when I'm needed back at work?"

"That will wait until Director Graves returns to the hospital," Healer Denis said as she gently lowered Tina back on the bed, much to Tina's relief, "but we generally say someone who's been as badly cursed as you should stay at home for two weeks, and not do anything strenuous at work for a month after that. You'll find spellwork much more difficult until your reserves are built back up."

Returns? "Mr. Graves has been here?"

The other woman nodded as she slipped off her gloves. "Director Graves has been sitting with your sister for the last three days; he only left the hospital a few hours ago when your visitor arrived."

"Ah." Truthfully, it was good to know that Queenie had had someone with her, that she wasn't worrying alone, but the fact that it had been Mr. Graves (it just occurred to her with a creeping sense of mortification that her boss had seen her in her pajamas, and it hadn't just been because she'd just jumped out of bed for an emergency call-in) felt a little odd.

"Well then, Miss Goldstein, since you can sit on your own now, these are the potions you need to take for the rest of the day." She gestured towards a quite frankly alarmingly long row of small bottles neatly laid on the bedside table. "The stoppers will flash and jingle when it's time to take them, swallow the whole thing. If you vomit any of them up or need someone to help, tap this," she pointed to a little metal songbird perched on the table that Tina hadn't noticed earlier, "and someone will by. Any questions?"

"I don't think so."

"Good," Miss Denis nodded with a satisfied smile as she flicked a wand towards the door to unlock it again. "Remember, tap the bird for help if you need it, and—oh, you certainly have persistent visitors."

Miss Denis stopped short in her rush to the door as in popped an anxious Queenie, hair back in its usual curl under a bright blue cloche. "How is she? She's gonna be all right?"

"She can tell you the details herself, but yes, she's better than we could have hoped. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"Oh golly, sorry," Queenie slid to the side of the door to allow the healer to pass through. A few seconds later, in popped Newt behind her, shutting the door firmly and setting his case down by the wall.

"You really are better?" the blonde demanded before Tina could ask if the two had been standing outside the door for long. "Those phoenix tears really fixed it all? Newt told me what he did while we were waiting, but...you're really better?"

"Yes, sis, I'm a lot better, just tired," Tina promised, doing her best to smile through the exhaustion. "They say I can go home tomorrow and that I'll be resting for the next few weeks to get my strength back, but I'll be right as rain in the end."

"Hmph." Queenie sat on the edge of Tina's bed and snapped open her purse, digging around for something that was clearly further in than the size of the purse would have indicated. "Well, you'll need wholesome food if you're gonna get your strength back ever," the younger witch muttered as she dug into the bag before taking out a round tin of something covered in pastry, savory-smelling and golden like it had just come out of an oven, and a serving knife.

Tina eyed the tin warily. "...what's that?"

"Pie." Queenie Summoned and Enlarged a set of plates and forks from her purse. "Chicken pie."

"Queenie, you were supposed to go rest!"

The blonde gave Tina a pointed look before she started cutting generous slices. "As if I was gonna rest when you haven't had real food in days. We're all famished, or we would be if our pride weren't in the way, so here." She set a plate of pie on Tina's lap. "Eat. You'll feel hungrier after the first few mouthfuls. You too Mr. Scamander, take the stool." She placed a plate in Newt's surprised hands, and all three began to eat.

Queenie's chicken pie was legendary under normal circumstances, but as Tina's first meal in days it was divine. No one spoke as they each worked through their slices (Queenie probably hadn't had much to eat either, Tina realized, since she'd been in the hospital). By the time the plates were all spelled clean and reshrunk to fit in Queenie's purse, Tina felt almost like a new woman; perhaps the curses weren't as draining as the healer had said, or perhaps the phoenix tears worked their magic this way. She'd have to ask Newt later.

Instead, she turned to Queenie to break the silence. "What are you two gonna do tonight? You can't sit watch over me again, sis, that'd be silly."

Queenie's brows twisted into a worried frown, but she didn't protest. "Well, I can sneak Mr. Scamander back into the apartment in New York for the night, if he doesn't have anywhere else to be."

Newt shook his head. "I've made my arrangements. I will not be needed back in Canada for three or four days."

"All right. Tina, you're certain you'll be fine on your own tonight?" Queenie pressed, the concern clearly stamped across her features.

"Right now the only thing that's straining me is worrying about you," Tina insisted firmly. "I'll call a healer if I need help, promise. You need sleep, and you need to let Jacob know that nothing's happened to you."

"We can both stop by Jacob's, let him know how we all are," Newt volunteered quietly, which had Tina throwing him a grateful look.

"Well, if you're sure…"

"I'm sure. Now go home before I ask someone to hex you there!" Tina urged one last time.

Queenie pursed her lips into a strained smile before squeezing Tina's hand and planting a kiss on her hair. Gathering her purse over her shoulder, she walked to exit the door, Newt and his suitcase in tow. Right before he passed out of sight through the doorframe, Tina could see him glance over his shoulder, an unspoken question in his eyes, but before she could ask him what it was he was turning back around and closing the door behind him.

For once, Tina was alone.

She glanced around the room, taking the opportunity to examine her surroundings clearly for the first time without distraction. The room was small, old-fashioned white-washed walls and white tile flooring with large open windows on the wall at her back. The only furniture in the room was her bed, a stool which clearly had one leg shorter than the other two, and a bedside table covered in the potions the healer had mentioned. There was also a large manilla envelope on the table clearly full of something, and her book. Curiosity demanded she examine the envelope, so she reached over (carefully, she didn't want to tip herself out of bed within five minutes of telling Queenie she'd be all right) to take the top of the envelope between two fingers before pouring the contents onto her lap.

It was her pocket effects. Tina was intensely relieved to see immediately that her wand was still in one piece, no more scratches or dents than it had before. There was her handkerchief too, and her pocket notebook, pencils, candy bar, and...

The photograph. The photograph had survived.

Tina pulled it up close to her eyes, examining it like she should have done in the first place. It was obvious now that there had been a separate photographer. Both hands on the serpent at all times, the photograph taken from far enough away that she could see his trousers had been rolled up to his calves in the bottom of the frame to protect them from the water he was standing in, and his wand was tucked in his pocket. Photograph Newt still grinned at the camera, almost like he was teasing her with the puzzle.

Tina rolled her eyes and huffed before putting the remaining items back in the envelope and switching it with her new book. If she was going to spend the night by herself, she at least would not be spending it bored. She opened the thick paper cover to the first page and began to read.

Introduction: What is a Beast?

Chapter Text

"Remember, Miss Goldstein, no spell-casting for at least three days, and keep it simple for the next two weeks. Use No-Maj transport or Floo if you need to go anywhere, keep the Side-Along to a minimum for the next six hours to let the painkillers fully wear off. No Portkeys for at least a week. Understood?"

"I understand," Tina promised the healer for what was probably the tenth time that morning. Sitting surrounded by her sister, Newt, and Mr. Graves all standing behind her in the healer’s office, it almost felt like she was making a plea deal to get this bespectacled, balding, irritating man to finally sign her discharge paperwork and not insist that she stay another night for observation in case her 'mysterious recovery' had a nefarious cause.

The healer sighed, picked up his quill from its inkwell, and as Tina held her breath, he signed the parchment.

"Thank you," Tina sighed as she nearly snatched the page from his desk.

"We'll see you back here in two weeks to clear you for work, and two weeks later to clear you for field duty," the healer warned, but he waved his wand to open the door behind the crowd so they could all walk out (her on slightly shaky legs, but still under her own power) into the entryway towards freedom freedom freedom. Salem's fires, if Tina had her way, those two hospital visits would be the last ones she'd have in her life.

Mr. Graves, who by virtue of being in the back of her cluster of companions in the healer's office was now in the front of the small group, stopped short. "Looks like we'll need to split this one up. Queenie, mind being the one to take Mr. Scamander?"

"Sure, Mr. Graves," Queenie replied with a nod, grabbing Newt's elbow immediately before the pair disappeared into thin air with a pop. After the first two disappeared, the older wizard proffered his arm.

A few seconds later, a disoriented Tina found herself staggering in the safe alley near her apartment, clinging to Mr. Graves's impeccably-tailored sleeve for dear life. Other hands—Queenie's and Newt's; they had waited—moved to steady her.

"Easy, there," Mr. Graves muttered, his free hand clamping hers down to his supporting arm. "We'll get you to your apartment in a minute. The disorientation should wear off soon."

Even with Tina being dizzy, they made quick work of the short walk to the apartment, and the quartet was soon making its way to the door. Please, Mrs. Esposito, let this be the one time you are not at home in the middle of the morning, Tina thought as she slowly climbed the steps, one hand on the railing and one hand on Mr. Graves's forearm. Please be out on an errand, go temporarily deaf for the next five min—

The door opened, and Tina felt her heart sink into her stomach as she recognized the thin frame of her landlady.

Tina liked to think that if she hadn't been on death's doorstep the day before, she would have come up with something clever to manage the situation. Dramatically thank Mr. Graves and Newt for the escort home and send them on their way like Mrs. Esposito expected her respectable young tenants to do. But Tina was exhausted, she was leaning heavily on Mr. Graves's arm, and Mrs. Esposito's face was rapidly beginning to resemble a beet in color.

"What in the name of—"

"Ah, Mrs. Esposito," Mr. Graves turned on the charm, doffing his hat with his free hand. "My apologies, I don't think we've seen each other in years."

The landlady narrowed her eyes in suspicion until something clicked, and they widened as big as saucers. "Mr. Graves! Of course I remember you; you came by to the Goldsteins every week for bridge until they passed on, God rest their souls."

"Indeed. If you'll excuse us, we need to get this young lady upstairs and into bed," the middle-aged wizard helped guide Tina towards the stairs. "Miss Goldstein," he turned over his shoulder to address Queenie, "would you please explain to Mrs. Esposito about the accident while Mr. Scamander and I help her up the stairs?"

"Accid—"

Mr. Graves half-carried, half-pushed Tina up the stairs before Mrs. Esposito could question or protest. Newt slid past them to Alohamora the lock and open the door, and mere seconds later, Tina found herself sinking into the familiar old settee.

"What's Queenie doing?" she asked.

"She'll explain to your landlady that you were hit by a car last week and that you're under doctor's orders not to be disturbed while you recover, but that your job is safe waiting for you when you're well enough to return, and give her just enough Memory Modification so that she won't remember anything but me dropping by," Mr. Graves said. "At least, I'm assuming that's what she picked out of my head. You will rest, won't you?"

"Yes, I will," Tina promised again. "I want to get back to work as soon as I can, and I know that means following orders."

"Good girl." He clapped a hand on Tina's shoulder before turning to face Newt. "Mr. Scamander." A funny, incomprehensible look passed between the two men, but before Tina could ask what it was all about Mr. Graves was shaking Newt's hand in two perfectly-correct pumps before taking his hat and exiting the apartment, leaving the two in silence save for the quiet rustling of the sleeping Betty Lou on her perch.

Maybe she should say something to keep the room from falling into silence.

"I, umm, started reading your book last night," Tina offered.

Newt looked up, startled, before deliberately turning his glance to the window. "And, ah, what did you think of it?"

"I only finished the introductory sections before I fell asleep, but I liked what I read," Tina replied truthfully. "Your editor must not have changed much; it sounds very much like you."

"Yes, ah, most of the edits were cuts rather than revisions."

More silence. What was it with Scamander men making her lose her wits? She never normally had this much difficulty talking with people, and when she did, she certainly didn't care this much about it.

"When do you have to go back to Canada?"

"Next two or three days. Credence and Mrs. Wigginthorpe are perfectly capable and willing to look after my creatures that long, but…well, I had to leave Pickett behind because Isis might have eaten him, and Pickett doesn't eat well himself if I'm not there," Newt explained, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards in disappointment.

Tina thought for a second, nodding. It felt strange to hear the name "Credence" spoken about as a person in the present tense who was doing things with his life, not as an embarrassing government mistake or a tragic victim of No-Maj abuse. And he was apparently not only living but thriving in a way he never had a chance to in New York. It's what she always hoped would happen for him but never thought could actually be. "I wish I could see Credence for myself," she said more to herself than her companion. "Tell him how sorry I am that it all came to this."

"Well…" Newt drew out the word suspiciously long, and Tina looked up, "there doesn't appear to be a reason you couldn't, once your Side-Along restriction is lifted. Mrs. Wigginthorpe—she's a widow, you see—doesn't get much in the way of company even though she enjoys it and has the spare rooms, and I could pop up there this afternoon to arrange things. Though I expect Queenie or Mr. Graves wouldn't approve of it."

"Oh, Newt honey." Queenie, impeccable timing as always, burst through the apartment doors and making her way straight to the gangly wizard. "You don't need to worry a smidge about that, promise. If Tina cared what Mr. Graves would approve of, she woulda done wand permits her whole life. Don't argue, Teenie, you know it bothers him that you do something as risky as you do even though he's proud of your work," Queenie added. "And fresh air for a few days might do you good. You should wait until tomorrow, though, because we're gonna meet Jacob for dinner at Katz's because this is worthy of celebration."

"You took care of Mrs. Esposito?"

"Of course, Teenie. Sent a little charm to the back of her head to fuzz the details. But Mercy Lewis, would you believe she was once sweet on Mr. Graves?" Queenie giggled. "I think she approves a little more of your job now that she knows he's your boss. Now if you don't mind, Mr. Scamander, I've got to get Tina changed into something that won't get us kicked out of Katz's."

"—and they're going to Canada to visit Mr. Scamander's friends!" Queenie gushed at Jacob, her voice almost swallowed by the bustle of the crowd that kept bumping into their tiny table.

"How long will you be there?" Jacob asked around a mouthful of pastrami on rye.

Newt glanced sideways at Tina. "Three days, I should think. I…wired Mrs. Wigginthorpe this afternoon, and she wouldn't hear of it being any shorter on account of Tina's health."

Wiring…Tina had no idea what that was, but it sounded No-Maj enough to cover for his phoenix-Apparating back to Canada with Isis and the combination Apparition/Floo journey back he'd made that afternoon. She took a thoughtful bite of her corned beef and listened to Queenie keep the conversation going. Three days…she was going to be with Newt for three days. He'd been very careful to explain that she'd be sleeping in a guest room while he would be in his case, of course, but still. Three days without international criminals or life-threatening concerns to worry about. Three days she'd have a chance to talk to Credence. Oh, she'd have to remember to mention Modesty's whereabouts to him and let him know about Peg, she couldn't recall if she'd written to Newt about that—

A gentle but firm kick to her ankle from a suspiciously Queenie-ward direction brought her attention back to the dinner table.

"The book should be officially released in a few weeks. There's a few bookshops in England that will carry it, so I suppose we'll see how things go," Newt said, shrugging sheepishly in Jacob's direction. "I don't hope for a broad distribution what with the subject matter, but it would be nice to sell enough to meet the minimum for me to be eligible for royalties rather than just the flat payment."

"What's royalties?" Jacob asked.

"It's an amount paid per book sold. The contract I signed means I shall receive a reasonable sum no matter how many copies sell, but there will be some extra if it does particularly well."

Queenie glanced at Tina from the corner of the eye, and Tina suddenly felt the room grow hot. She really, really had no business knowing about Mr. Scamander's—Newt's—finances. At least not at this time, and possibly not ever, but definitely not now. A little eyeroll from her younger sister told Tina that Queenie had heard every word of her thoughts and was probably about to push the conversation more into that territory if Tina didn't do something to steer things away.

"I've seen a test print of it," Tina said abruptly. "It's got pictures of all the animals you saw in—at Newt's. I can lend it to you if you want."

Newt jumped on this change of topic. "I could even arrange to send a copy to you through the Miss Goldsteins, if you'd like one of your own. It would have to wait until the official printing, though."

Jacob sat up a little straighter, eyes wide. "Really? I can have a copy of your book? Like, it wouldn't be a violation of you guys's rules?"

"Technically, it is," Tina said carefully, trying to think it through on the fly while ignoring Queenie's pointed annoyance. "But I think the spirit of the law makes allowances for your case. You'd just have to be careful to only read it at home."

"Then I'd love to read it!" Jacob beamed. "Can't wait to find out more about the stuff I'm basing my pastries on."

"Ah, Tina mentioned in the letters that the bakery was doing well?"

"Oh, business is booming. Last week…"

And with that, the dreaded topic was put aside for the rest of the evening.

After dinner, Tina handled the Side-Along home much better than she had earlier that day and was only slightly light-headed when Queenie dropped her off in the apartment before popping back to get Newt (Tina was adamant about not risking having to shoot another Memory Charm at Mrs. Esposito within a single twenty-four hour period). Soon, the three were standing in the living room, with Queenie looking dangerously like she was going to turn conversation to something even more personal and inappropriate for just-friends if Tina didn't stop her.

"It's getting late," Tina said hastily. "I'm sure you're tired after this afternoon, and I should get some packing done now before it gets much later."

"Quite," he agreed as he set out his case, though she might have detected a twinge of disappointment in his voice. "Ah, shall we plan to Floo out at nine tomorrow morning?"

"Nine sounds good. Good night, Newt."

"Breakfast at eight!" Queenie chimed in. "I ain't sending you to another country on an empty stomach."

"I'll see you at eight, then. Good night, Queenie. Tina." Warm blue eyes met hers for half a second, then his thumbs flicked open the locks on his case, and he was darting inside.

As soon as the case snapped shut, Queenie turned to her sister, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "You don't need to be a Legillimens to—"

"Not now, Queenie," Tina hissed. It would be just her luck if Newt's suitcase wasn't soundproofed, and she didn't think she could survive another dose of mortification.

Queenie rolled her eyes, but she held her tongue until they were back in the bedroom. "All I'm saying is he didn't invite you to Canada just for Credence, and there's no harm in letting him know you know it."

"But—"

She heard a tiny knock behind her on the wooden door, and she whirled around on reflex.

"Tina, so sorry. Err," the soft British voice said from the other side of the door, "you might want to read the section about thestrals before tomorrow, under the winged horses heading. They can be a bit startling to the unprepared."

Queenie suppressed a giggle, and Tina flashed her a look of warning. "Thanks, Newt. I'll do that. Good night."

"Good night."

It was going to be a very pleasant, very strange whirlwind of a trip.