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1.
“If you could please stay very still and quiet?” Newt said softly, crouching on the ground, his hands gently scooping a tiny creature from the ground. His back was faced to whoever had appeared, but he ignored the other person’s presence, focusing instead on the malnourished Diricrawl chick in his hands.
The bird’s feathers were dull instead of the brilliant iridescent they were meant to be, and the poor creature was so tiny and fragile that Newt wished he could have done something other than chase the poachers away.
Although Diricrawls were known to muggles, they were thought to be extinct, and this particular – muggle – poacher had somehow stumbled on a Diricrawl and had had the fantastic idea to sell the poor animal to the highest muggle bidder. He didn’t manage to save the mother – something that would haunt him in the later days he was sure – but he could save this chick. Newt could only be thankful that there had been only a handful of people the poacher had contacted. He didn’t want to have to mass obliviate a crowd like he did in New York once again.
The only problem now was his unknown guest, who had appeared when he’d been trying to coax the chick into his hands.
Holding the chick now, he gently freed one hand from under it, reaching out to unlatch his case. In any other situation, he would go down himself to settle the chick in its new habitat, but for now, he handed the chick over to Dougal, who‘s big, round eyes blinked owlishly at him before retreating back into the case.
“Do you always do this for your creatures?”
His hands froze on the latch of his case.
Throat suddenly dry, Newt forced his fingers to click the latch shut, pressing a protective spell wordlessly into his case. The blue sheen in Dougal’s eyes and the worry on the Demiguise’s face made sense now.
“I save as many as I can.” He replied honestly, his voice nothing more than a whisper in the wind.
Turning his head, he looked up at the man standing a distance from him, a coat draped over his shoulders, with a chain clasped on either side of the collar, keeping it in place on his shoulder.
Newt’s gaze skittered away, unable to keep it focused on another person for any amount of time.
“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, averting his eyes.
“I was curious about you,” the man replied, fixing mismatched eyes on the magizoologist still kneeling in front of his case, “And then I find you in the middle of a destroyed poacher’s camp...”
Newt flushed, his cheeks painted scarlet. “They were planning on selling the Diricrawl for the highest price. It is quite valuable you know? Considering it is ‘extinct’.”
The Dark Lord hummed, his hands clasping together in front of him. “Cruel isn’t it? To steal the freedom of another being away because of something so simple as greed.”
Newt frowned slightly. There was something else in the wizard’s tone that warned him, but he couldn’t help but respond nonetheless. “It is cruel,” he agreed cautiously, peering up at Grindelwald from beneath his fringe, “But this isn’t just limited to muggles. Creatures like these, they’re always blamed for their actions, even when it is mostly done out of self-defence. People – wizards and non-wizards alike – both use beasts for their own gain, they use them until nothing more can be squeezed out from them and then they throw them away like trash.”
Newt swallowed, realizing that he had spiralled into one of his rants.
“I –”
Grindelwald chuckled, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Newt. “You get more and more interesting every time we meet Mr Scamander.” He murmured, his voice low and hypnotizing. Newt felt pinned by his intimidating gaze, unable to look away from those gleaming, mismatched eyes. “I have not seen such powerful conviction and vision in many years,” the Dark Lord continued, stepping closer, “We have so much in common, a desire to change the world from how it is now, to seek the truth and to free the shackled and the oppressed, to eradicate the greed and cruelty that this world is drowning in.”
Grindelwald stepped even closer, until he was right in front of Newt. He crouched down as well, running the back of his hand gently across the younger wizard’s face, “We seek to bring justice to those who suffer unjustly,” he whispered, leaning in closer, “Don’t you agree?”
Newt stayed stock still, barely even breathing as Grindelwald invaded his personal space, so close that there was barely an inch between their faces.
The words struck a chord in him, a truth that reverberated in his very soul.
With great effort, Newt tore himself away, lurching backwards and out of Grindelwald’s reach. He didn’t care that he seemed unsightly, scrambling backwards and pulling his case with him. Mutely, he shook his head, hunching over his precious case as he waited with bated breath for pain to strike.
When it didn’t, he carefully lifted his eyes to see Grindelwald still staring at him, as still as a statue. The Dark Lord eventually sighed and stood up, his coat swaying gently with the motion.
“I’ll be seeing you around Mr Scamander, I do believe we shall meet again.”
He twisted on the spot and vanished, and Newt sucked in a desperate breath of air, filling his lungs with sweet oxygen.
Trembling, he hugged his case, curling up on the ground as he tried to banish the other wizard’s words from his mind.
2.
Newt knows that he should have told someone, anyone, about his encounter with the newly escaped Dark Lord. After the wizard had left, he’d remained on the floor for a good hour or so, curled around his case in case Grindelwald decided to return.
He’d contemplated contacting someone, Theseus would have been the easiest and most logical choice. His brother was a prominent figure in the Ministry and alerting the Ministry about Grindelwald’s whereabouts would be the most sensible thing to do.
And yet...
The Dark Lord didn’t hurt him, was even polite when Newt had requested him to be silent. Newt knew that he had the potential to be a cause of concern for Grindelwald because of what happened in New York, even if the Ministry didn’t think so. But if the man had wanted him dead, he would have been dead before he’d even recognized that someone was there.
Instead of killing him, Grindelwald had what, talked to him? Kept quiet while he gently coaxed a Diricrawl into his case?
To say that he was confused was as understatement. He didn’t know what Grindelwald wanted with him, and he didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had paid him a visit.
So he kept quiet.
Days passed, then weeks, and he never once mentioned about Grindelwald to anyone.
A small, bitter part of him wondered if Theseus would bother answering his call at all. There was a reason he’d never accepted his brother’s invitation for dinner, and that reason was simple. Until Theseus himself invited him for dinner, Newt wouldn’t accept the invitation. He wondered vaguely if Theseus even knew how many invitations he’d had Leta or one of his house elves send him, or if such things took a backseat in his mind, like so many other things did.
So Newt kept his mouth shut, pushing the unusual incident to the back of his mind, focusing instead on writing his manuscript and taking care of his beasts, trying not to let the frustration of being unable to travel eat at him.
That little jaunt that earned him a new diricrawl had been stretching the limits of his travel ban. He was technically limited to travel within England, but he knew that the Ministry didn’t want him anywhere outside of London. He’d been trying to keep to the ban imposed on him even though he’d felt that it was completely unfair. Theseus had advised him when he’d returned to London and was slapped with a ban with barely any notice to play nice, and he’d done so. But he’d already been summoned to the Ministry twice to speak to the council in hopes of gaining their approval to revoke his ban, with his third summons just past.
Even for him, this was drawing on his patience.
Newt sighed in frustration, running a hand through his fringe as he stepped out of the Ministry building. It had been yet another hair-pulling meeting, where he had been presented with more conditions to fulfil in exchange for revoking his travel ban, each becoming more ludicrous than the last. He was playing nice with the Ministry officers, but his patience was truly wearing thin, and despite his brother’s constant warnings to be more mindful of his superiors, to try not to offend the Ministry members that much, he couldn’t and wouldn’t compromise on his principles just so he could travel around freely again. There were ways out of the country, ways that he knew how to use. If the price for travel was the compromise of his morals, then it was a price he would never pay.
Newt tugged his case alongside his body, the weight a familiar comfort against the never-ending frustration. This was why, despite what Theseus said, he would never agree to work for the Ministry. For starters, he loved his creatures too much to give them up for a desk job. And he didn’t want to become one of those individuals who so easily controlled the lives of others and showed none of the care for those people.
Giving another rare sigh of frustration, Newt ducked into an alley, his mind envisioning the location he wanted to, disappearing without a sound.
He appeared on the roof of a cluster of old buildings, standing at the very edge. He looked out across the London skyline, letting the tranquillity at this height seep into him. Breathing out gently, Newt crouched, placing his case gently beside him. His heart thudding rapidly at the long drop even though there were at least a dozen spells he could cast before he even got halfway down.
“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”
Newt jolted, spinning around in surprise. He flailed slightly as his right foot slipped off the edge, the split second feeling of freefall cut short when a hand clamped around his wrist, pulling him away from the edge. Newt stumbled off the ledge, his heart pounding in his chest.
He eyed the hand still tightly gripping his wrist, tracing it back to its owner, meeting Grindelwald’s unnerving gaze for a scant few seconds before he looked away. The magizoologist gently tugged on his wrist, his worry that Grindelwald wouldn’t release him unfounded as the wizard retracted his hand. Newt rubbed his wrist slightly, ducking his head, “Thank you.” He whispered.
“Long day at the Ministry?” Grindelwald asked, moving to stand near the ledge, resting his elbows on the stone as he stared out at the London skyline.
Newt shifted on his feet, reaching out a hesitant hand to snag his case, setting it at his feet. “It’s always a long day at the Ministry.” He replied.
Grindelwald hummed, tapping his fingers lightly on the concrete. “What were you there for?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Newt blurted.
“Not even I know every little thing that goes on in the world my dear Mr Scamander.” Grindelwald said, giving him an amused glance.
Newt flushed a deep scarlet.
“They banned me from travelling.” He said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice, looking down at the grey slab of concrete underneath his feet. “They said that I’d been left too much to my own devices in New York, caused too much destruction, and now they’re confining me to London where they can keep an eye on me.”
“What did they offer in exchange for revoking the ban?”
Newt didn’t even bother with feeling surprised that the dark wizard had guessed the crux of the issue.
“They don’t see creatures as anything other than a means for profit.” Newt sighed, brushing his fringe absent-mindedly. “They heard of what I did with my creatures, how I ‘tamed’ them. They want me to do the same with other creatures that they want to use.”
“And do you tame them? Your creatures?” Grindelwald asked curiously, tilting his head to one side.
Newt couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his face as his head snapped up. “I don’t tame them!” he protested, “I care for them when they’re weak or injured, and then I release them back into the wild. Taming them would be counterproductive.”
Grindelwald smirked, raising his hands placatingly, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend. I just find it curious that your creatures respond to you so readily.”
Newt blushed, remembering just who he was speaking to. He ducked his head into his upturned collar, the fabric hiding the scarlet coloring his cheek.
“A bit of trust goes a long way,” he murmured, “They’ve all been hurt in some way, which is why they lash out the way they do. Because nobody understands them, and nobody bothers to understand them.”
Grindelwald stared at him, wondering just how many times he could continue to be surprised by this man who he’d brushed off – upon first laying eyes on him – as a timid and spineless individual. He’d dismissed this wizard, choosing instead to focus on the Obscurial, but he hadn’t realized that by overlooking this one person, he’d set himself up for failure.
The dark lord smiled internally, yes, he thought to himself, Newt Scamander would prove to be a worthy pursuit.
Externally, he said, “Well this has been a pleasant trip for me, but I must be going now.”
“More schemes to plan?” Newt commented wryly, earning a laugh from the other wizard.
“Exactly,” Grindelwald purred, “A word of advice, don’t waste your time trying to play nice with the Ministry, they’ll never be satisfied with what you give them.”
He savoured the conflicted look on Newt’s face before Apparating away.
He had a lot to prepare for if he was to win one magizoologist over to his side.
3.
Newt yelped as a streak of red brushed past his face, the spell slamming into the brick wall with enough force to smash it. He turned and lobbed another spell back wordlessly, his left hand cradling his Niffler to his chest, the poor creature trembling and burrowing deeper into his coat. He was immensely glad that he’d had the foresight to leave his case at home when he came out to look for his Niffler because this was far too volatile a situation for the creatures he’d just rescued.
Newt wanted to Apparate, but the spells that kept bombarding him made it difficult. It took all his concentration just to avoid his pursuers, and he was thankful for the complete lack of people around him. Distantly, he wondered what Theseus would say if he found out about his escapade, but the stray thought was cut short when a curse sliced across his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
Newt gasped and flung another couple of spells back at his attackers, ducking and weaving between their spells as he threw up a shield. He turned down another back alley, wishing he could see just where he was going –
A hand shot out from the shadows and yanked him sideways, slamming his head painfully against the brick wall. He gasped in pain and shock as the sharp tip of a wand pressed against his throat, his right wrist squeezed painfully until he dropped his wand. Despite all this, he instinctively shielded his Niffler with his left hand, casting a layer of wordless protection on the terrified creature.
His face scrunched up in pain as the man who had grabbed him twisted his arm painfully, forcing him to his knees. He heard the rest of the group stumble noisily into the darkened alleyway, their harsh pants breaking the silence of the night.
“Not so proud now are ye?” Jeered one of the men, a tall, bulky individual with an ugly scar across his right eye, the eye itself a milky white.
“Hand over the creature.” The man spat, “and maybe, just maybe, we’ll spare ya.”
Newt fixed his eyes on the ground, making no move to give access to the creature huddling into his chest.
“I’ve returned your items to you.” He said softly, wincing as the man holding onto him shook him roughly.
The burly man sneered and crouched down, the scar twisting on his face, “You think to make a fool outta me? You think you can just steal my things and run?”
Newt shook his head, “I’ve already returned everything, just let me go, please. I won’t say anything.”
“I’ll let you go, if you hand that creature over to me.”
Never in a million years would the thought of betraying his creatures ever cross his mind, and Newt shook his head fervently. “I won’t give him to you. You can’t blame him for what happened, it’s in his nature to be attracted to shiny objects –”
His face jerked to the side, a stinging sensation spreading across his cheek.
“Are you saying that it’s my fault?” The man growled, “That thing is just a beast, you won’t even miss it much.”
One of the man’s followers chuckled and chimed in, “It’ll make a great souvenir boss.”
Newt felt a chill run down his spine.
“Ooh,” the scarred man grinned, “That’s some fierce look you have on your face there.”
Newt didn’t know what look was on his face, but there was no way he would give up his Niffler willingly.
The man interpreted his glare correctly and smirked. “Seems like we’ll have to pry the damnable beast from his hands boys.” The man reached out to grab a fistful of Newt’s hair, yanking on it painfully. “You’re a pretty one aren’t you? Last chance, give us the beast, and I’ll let you go without harming you... much.”
Newt met his eyes evenly and glared at him.
The man grinned in response and drew his wand, pointing it at Newt. Newt felt his breathing quicken, pressing his left hand harder against his coat, hoping that his Niffler would have the common sense to stay inside.
“Release him.”
The voice was soft and raspy, the words whispered into the shadows. But they resonated loud and clear. The men all turned to the entrance of the alleyway, where the light was obscured momentarily by a silhouette.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The scarred man snarled, pointing his wand at the figure.
The man holding onto Newt gasped in recognition and fear, releasing the magizoologist instantly, carefully backing away. Newt fell onto his forearms, grunting softly.
“Frank don’t.” The man who had held onto Newt warned, “It’s not worth it, let’s go.”
The newly dubbed Frank bared his teeth, “It’s just some guy being nosy –”
The shadow shifted, the dim moonlight illuminating the features of the man who interrupted them. Under the pale moonlight, the man’s stark white hair and molten gold eye gleamed brightly, his expression made all the more sinister by duality of light and dark painted on his face.
The scarred man known as Frank paled.
Grindelwald tilted his head, his hands still clasped behind his back. “Leave.” He rasped.
The men all stumbled over one another as they quickly apparated away, eager to leave with their lives in the face of the notorious wizard.
Newt, having collapsed on the ground, pulled himself to a sitting position and carefully pulled the Niffler out of his coat, gently murmuring to the creature, who snuffled and buried its head into his shirt, tiny paws coming up to pat against his shirt.
He ignored the footsteps that echoed in the alley, choosing to focus on comforting his frightened Niffler.
A sigh came from above him, and a hand entered his vision. Blinking in surprise, Newt looked up, then gripped the man’s forearm, the German hauling him up to his feet. The Niffler squeaked, and Newt retracted his hand immediately, running a hand through his Niffler’s fur.
“You care far too much Mr Scamander.”
Newt chanced a glance at Grindelwald, before returning his attention to his creature.
“Is it wrong to care for the innocent?” He asked in return.
Grindelwald hummed softly, stepping around him to lean against the wall, in Newt’s full line of sight if he chose to look up.
“You would have allowed them to do with you as they wished.”
Newt nodded, “The Niffler hasn’t done anything wrong, he doesn’t deserve to be killed because of his nature.”
Grindelwald shook his head, “I don't think I have ever met a man who was this willing to sacrifice his life for a beast, but I suppose that is part of your charm Mr Scamander.”
Newt blushed lightly, hunching over instinctively.
“Thank you.” He whispered, flicking his eyes up to meet Grindelwald’s.
The other wizard masked the surprise that accompanied the expression of gratitiude. “You should stay away from darkened alleyways in future Mr Scamander,” he offered instead.
Newt just nodded mutely, watching as Grindelwald gave him a once over, reaching out to brush a hand over Newt’s cheek, the warmth of his magic spilling from his fingers. The Dark Lord nodded once, and then stepped back and twisted on the spot, disapparating.
Newt lifted his hand to his cheek, realizing belatedly that the stinging sensation had disappeared.
4.
Newt ducked his head, tendrils of guilt seeping into him as he flicked his wand, the plates slowly drifting towards the sink. It wasn’t right of course, that Queenie would enchant Jacob this way, even if her intentions weren’t malicious. Still, Newt thought sombrely, cleaning up the dining table with a casual twist of his wrist, it wasn’t fair that Queenie and Jacob had to hide their relationship. They both were happy, and they weren’t flaunting magic in public, so why weren’t they allowed to be together?
The teacup clinked together noisily, and Newt blinked, realizing that he’d been so distracted that his magic had responded in kind, the contents of the dining table cluttering together messily. Sighing, Newt twirled his wand again, separating the mess and sending them to the sink.
A single, heavy knock on the door stopped him in his tracks. A part of him – the same part that had instinctively gripped his wand more tightly – was glad that he’d told Bunty to head home first. The – ironically – bigger part of him headed towards the door, reaching out to twist the knob, pulling it open gently.
The cold air of London hit him in the face, causing him to shiver. Newt looked at his current visitor, realizing just how surreal the situation he’d found himself in was, then blurted, “Please take off your shoes when you enter.”
Biting his lips, he looked away from the amusement dancing in the other man’s eyes as he did as he was told, toeing his shoes off and carefully placing them to one side. Newt moved aside, letting the wizard brush past him. He closed the door, sighing with relief as the chill vanished, the enchantments on the house working to keep it warm.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” He asked softly, flicking his eyes up and then to the side.
“Are all British this polite or is it just you Mr Scamander?”
Blushing slightly, Newt dropped his gaze, shuffling further into the house.
Grindelwald smiled, “I would love a cup yes.”
“What are you here for?” Newt asked, as he busied himself.
“I heard your friend Miss Goldstein on the way here.” He commented casually, spinning in a slow circle as he took in the house and its comfortable ambience despite the sparse decorations.
“Unfair isn’t it?” Grindelwald continued, reaching out to touch one of the trinkets that Newt placed on the mantel of the fire place, “She truly loves her No-Maj, and yet, she is denied the most simple of requests. Having to hide in the shadows for fear of retribution and the consequences of being caught – it is tiresome isn’t it?”
Newt had paused momentarily at the mention of Queenie, then continued to stir the tea, whispering a spell to keep it warm. He wondered vaguely what it said about him that he felt nothing more than passing wariness – similar to one he would feel at the initial surprise of coming face to face with a desperate beast screaming at him – at having what could be said to be the darkest wizard of all times sitting in his home.
It should bother him, he knew, that Grindelwald knew where he live when Theseus did not. Instead, all Newt could think of was how Grindelwald had bothered to knock politely instead of simply letting himself in.
“I do have manners you know?” The wizard chuckled, pulling out one of the chairs at the dining table, “Knocking is only polite when your host has been so kind thus far.”
Newt looked away, tapping his wand against the teapot instead. The teapot floated to the teacup in front of Grindelwald, tilting to allow a stream of steaming tea to trickle into the cup. The magizoologist stopped when the dark wizard raised a hand, flicking his wand so that the teapot sat quietly at the corner of the table.
He stood opposite the Dark Lord, the wooden dining table in between them. He remained silent as the wizard sipped carefully at the tea, humming in appreciation as the flavour burst on his tongue.
“Ah,” he sighed, “Perhaps the one thing I do miss about London is the tea. Terribly difficult to find well-brewed tea in other countries.”
“Maybe you should stay in London then.” Newt commented quietly.
Grindelwald smirked, “Are you offering to host me?”
Newt couldn’t help but scowl at that.
The other wizard just laughed. “Unfortunately, I am a busy man, and I can only afford to come back to London once in awhile. Perhaps I should drop by for more tea?”
“Do you really?” Newt asked, suddenly feeling an exhaustion that had nothing to do with physical activities, “Do you really need to do what you’re doing? Is this the only way? Is war the only way?”
Grindelwald placed the cup down gently, “Change does not happen on its own. There must be a herald to usher in a new era, an advocate for the victimized. I’m sure you of all people should understand that Mr Scamander.”
“But is a war truly necessary?” Newt challenged, “The only outcome of a war is endless death and suffering. How will that change anything?”
“You are right in that war isn’t necessary,” Grindelwald replied, meeting his gaze evenly, “And I am not advocating for war. I am advocating for change, I am calling for people out there to recognize that there needs to be a difference in the way they think. Don’t you think we’re similar in that manner?”
“You consider yourself an educator then?” Newt retorted, “Because you call us similar, and yet you fail to recognize that I despise violence. I published my book because I want people out there to know how to treat these creatures fairly. But your plans rampaged half of New York didn’t it? You killed half a dozen aurors while escaping didn’t you? How can you claim to be an educator if you kill the ones who oppose you?”
Grindelwald fell silent, and Newt panted harshly, wondering vaguely if he was about to be hexed.
“Tell me Mr Scamander, do you think your friends deserve to be happy?”
“What – of course I do!” Newt burst out, anger whipping through him, “What kind of a question is that? Queenie and Jacob are both my friends, of course they deserve to be happy! But the law is what it is now and –”,he faltered slightly, his tone falling several pitches, “and I agree that there needs to be a change. Of course I understand what they’re feeling, I despise the idea of killing creatures for acting within their very nature and yet – yet I can’t change anything because you can’t force change!” Newt breathed in deeply. “I can’t – your way is violence, and I have never ever believed that violence is the answer. To anything.”
Grindelwald’s eyes crinkled with amusement, but there was a flash of darkness in them, “And what do you know of my way Mr Scamander?”
The tone was light, but Newt, in a rare moment of social awareness, caught the warning beneath. Swallowing nervously, he bowed his head slightly and gave the man an apologetic glance.
The other wizard sighed, leaning back in the wooden chair, the furniture creaking slightly. “The laws are what they are now,” he agreed, “but that does not mean it cannot change. But in order for the laws to change, there needs to be a movement, there needs to be an agreement to abolish the old laws and enact new ones.”
Grindelwald’s mismatched eyes bore into Newt’s own, the man leaning forward slowly. The movement was graceful and elegant, reminding Newt of the time he saw a panther on a hunt, power and majesty coiled in a single body.
“There needs to be people willing to stand up for what they believe is right and fight for that very belief.” Grindelwald hissed, his magic sizzling in the air. “You have a vision Mr Scamander, one which you follow, full of conviction, and I admire that in you. I too have a vision. I don’t aim to dominate, to be a dictator to all and restrict the individual. No, I seek to do the opposite. I will admit, that what happened in New York spiralled far out of my control. But know this Mr Scamander, I seek to establish freedom, to free others from the slaves that they’ve been forced to become. You’ve experienced similar with your creatures I’m sure. Why do we have to hide? Why do we need to conceal our powers, the essence of who we are? Should we not be allowed to be ourselves without fear of retribution? Should we not be allowed to live with who we love without fear of being torn apart?” Grindelwald’s voice tapered off into a whisper, the break at the end of his heartfelt plea breaking Newt’s heart.
“Mr Scamander, I seek – like you – to teach understanding. Is it not something that we as creatures of magic deserve?”
Newt felt trapped, his eyes fixed solidly on the stain on his table. His mind was whirling, and his heart yearned to embrace the words that fell from Grindelwald’s mouth. He recalled all the warnings that Grindelwald had powers of persuasion far beyond anyone’s comprehension, and he tried to backtrack, tried to find his way out of this hole he had somehow found himself in. But no matter what thoughts circled through his mind, he could only think, it made sense. It made so much sense that it left him wondering just why there was such a need for secrecy. He recalled the abuse Credence had suffered for being even the slightest bit different. He recalled how angry he had been when he’d found out how Credence had been punished because of things that Mary Lou Barebone didn’t understand. Muggles could coexist with wizards peacefully, Jacob was the best example for that. He’d accepted everything willingly and had accepted Queenie whole-heartedly, even though she was a Legilimens.
What Grindelwald said made complete sense, and Newt – torn as he was – felt something in him shift just a little. But then he remembered Theseus’ warnings about being watched, the rare moment when his brother had warned him to be careful, and the magizoologist opened his mouth to deny the Dark Lord once again, knowing that the Ministry was always watching him.
“Newt.” He said instead, blinking in bewilderment at the words that fell out of his mouth, “Call me Newt. Mr Scamander is usually reserved for when I’ve landed myself in detention.”
A rare look of honest surprise crossed Grindelwald’s face. He barked a laugh, throwing his head back in a way so different from his usual poise and grace that Newt couldn’t help but think he looks much better when he’s relaxed.
“Thank you for the compliment Newton.” Grindelwald chuckled, making Newt duck his head again, studiously denying just how warm it made him feel when the man used his first name. The wizard pushed his chair back, standing up in a fluid movement, prompting the magizoologist to stare up at him, confused.
“I think I know your answer for now,” Grindelwald said, his lips curving into a smile, “And I do believe your No-Maj friend is returning.”
Newt mutely followed Grindelwald to the door, unlatching it and holding it open for his guest. Grindelwald paused on the bottom step, turning to look up at him. “I do hope you have an answer for me the next time we meet Newton.” He murmured, stepping one step further onto the street, then disappearing into thin air.
Newt saw Jacob round the corner of the street, looking dejectedly at the floor. With a swish of his wand, the teacups replaced themselves where they belonged, and Newt hopped down the stairs, reaching out to grab his friend by the shoulders.
He resolutely pushed the encounter (and his reaction) out of his mind.
5.
“Newton,” Grindelwald murmured from behind him, his soft tone somehow clear and audible through the roar of the fire and the screams of his brother and friends.
Newt turned slowly.
His eyes raised to meet molten gold and onyx black.
The wizard tilted his head slightly, offering a small smile, the flickering blue flames reflected in his mismatched eyes. He lifted a hand, turning it so that the palm was extended towards Newt. The magizoologist curled his left hand tighter around the handle of his case, seeking comfort in the familiar weight as he stared at the proffered hand.
“Think of what we can do together Newton.” Grindelwald said softly, his voice never losing that hypnotic tone, “We can build a world where your creatures can roam free, where they are seen as more than a means to an end.”
Behind him, Newt could hear his brother screaming his name, casting spells in a frenzy at the Fiendfyre, though the flames were almost as solid as a physical barrier. He could hear Tina and Leta both call out to him, their voices tinged with desperation. He heard Jacob’s confused call for him, his voice breaking.
Newt blinked, shifting slightly.
He thought of Queenie, of the tears she shed - tears she should never have cried - because she had fallen in love with someone that their society disapproved of. He thought of all the creatures he’d come across over the years, torn apart and abused, never to trust another human again because of what had been done to them. He thought of Credence, who just wanted to know where he belonged.
And he made his decision.
I guess that the hands of a Dark Lord can be warm too, he mused quietly to himself, his gaze still skittish.
The smile on Grindelwald’s face widened into a sharp grin. He curled his fingers around Newt’s, pulling the man closer, barely an inch between them.
“We’ll make the world beautiful again,” he whispered, a promise in his voice.
The Dark Lord’s eyes flicked over to Theseus, who was staring with abject horror, his own eyes flashing with rage. Grindelwald gave him a triumphant grin as he pulled Newt flush against his body, his arm snaking around the younger man’s waist. He buried his face in the crook of Newt’s neck, and with a soft pop! they vanished, leaving behind cerulean flames that devoured every inch of the tomb.