Chapter Text
She heard the news first. It had come in the early morning by owl to the Egyptian Ministry of Magic, where Tina was working as an auror during her stay in Egypt. Whispers sounded off the sandstone walls as she slipped through the enchanted entrance underneath the Carlton Hotel. The young clerk, Sofia, looked up from her frantic quill dashing out its message in Arabic. Her wooden desk blocked the entrance to the domed atrium beyond, forcing anyone entering to stop.
“Hello, ma’am. I trust today finds you well?”
Looking past Sofia with her warm smile and her still-writing quill, Tina watched the commotion of witches and wizards running from office to office, with the whirl of letters and owls flying past the columned hallway and up to the exit, speeding to the grey skies of Europe or down to the rest of the African continent. “What’s all the hurry about?” Tina nervously tapped her foot, feeling for the wand carefully hidden beneath her clothes.
Sofia bit the inside of her cheek, looking down at the steadily growing stack of correspondence from across the Near East. With a deep breath, she fixed Tina’s gaze into her black eyes and said, “The Germans invaded Poland.”
Tina rushed past the wooden desk, ducking to avoid the papers whizzing around, and ran into the first door on the right. A crowd of aurors turned their heads as she entered, the radios blasting in an overlapping mix of English, Arabic, and French. The radio on her left poured out a barrage of information with a deep British voice that echoed through the small room. “-have confirmed another attack to the south, in the countryside. There has been no declaration of war from the Germans, or a response from Parliament, as of yet.”
There was a crackle as the radio dial was turned to silent. “That’s enough of that.” The voice, translated by an auto-translate spell, belonged to the deputy prime minister of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic. He was older man with a grizzled moustache and a twisting scar that started at his cheek and twisted around behind his ear. He and his rolling laugh had won Tina over in time, and she had begun to consider him one of her closest friends on this side of the Atlantic.
Grumbling, the aurors turned off the other radios and slipped out to find their own desks. Tina stood, transfixed. This wasn’t a surprise, not really. This entire country had been holding its breath towards Europe since their neighbors had been “pacified” by Italy. However, these attacks didn’t have to mean the worst. For years, the British and the French had tried satisfying the Germans by allowing it to bite into their neighbors’ territory, bit by bit. Maybe the Germans would finally be content with their piece of Poland and settle. Maybe the British and everyone else could escape the dregs of yet another drawn out, bloody conflict with the Germans.
(And maybe she’d turn into one of Newt’s hippogriffs.)
Newt. He’d already seen Europe torn apart at the seams with his own eyes once. It would be a cruelty to ask him, and the millions like him, to stitch up their old boots and trod the same trench-infested ground that haunted them like ghosts. But he’d go. If only to try and protect the creatures sent to the front lines in the wizard counterpart to the war. Like the no-maj warhorse - serving its purpose, without thanks or regard, and cast aside when riddled with bullets (or spells).
Newt never talked much about the Great War or the Eastern Front, or anything related to it. He hardly seemed concerned when it was brought up, but prying him for details was like trying to catch an Occamy with your bare hands. It was hard to imagine the man who once mourned for days over the death of a fire crab out on a war-torn field littered with the corpses of Ukrainian Ironbellies.
If he went, she would have to go too. They had followed each other for years now – him taking notes on the local creatures as she stalked the globe for Grindelwald, and her walking into the Ministry Office located wherever a pressing need for a Magizoologist arose. Yes, they had spent some months apart – how could they not, when they were so dedicated to their separate careers? Newt could never be torn from his creatures, just like she could never be torn from the thrill of a duel or the overwhelming desire to make the world right, neat, and just so –
“Mrs. Scamander?”
She was a career woman, despite the pressure from her friends and Newt’s family, saying that she was a wife now, a mother now, there was no need to get caught up in such dangerous –
“Tina?”
Tina jumped a bit, startled out of her racing thoughts. “Ali,” she said to the deputy prime minister, who was still standing in the now-empty room.
“Do you need the rest of the day off?”
“Of course not.” Newt would still be somewhere far from civilization, tracking down elusive dragons who buried themselves in the desert sand, completely unaware of the day’s events. Everyone was right here, in Egypt, completely fine. For now, at least.
With a small smile, she slipped past Ali, heading for her desk to get a start on the day’s work.
* * * *
After discussing new broomstick routes over Cairo, sending heaps of owls, and arresting a young wizard for petty theft, her shift was over and she hurried to the Apparition room in the back of the ministry. The room, covered from floor to ceiling in softly moving murals depicting stylized locations across Egypt, was supposed to help ease the potential riskiness of Apparition if the user faced the painting of their destination.
“Hello.” A young witch, Mona, walked in, clutching a small collection of scrolls against her chest. “Are you going to the Academy?”
“Hi.” Tina smiled at Mona, the bright young Cairo-born witch who always seemed curious to learn about wands and European spells. Tina returned her curiosity, asking about the precise flicks of the fingers and thoughts that brought forth magic from the tips of fingertips, and about spells with the meanings so old they seemed to come from the roots of the Earth itself.
Remembering that Mona probably wanted a response to her question, Tina answered, “Yes. Yes, I am. Going there right now, in fact.”
Mona, to her credit, just smiled kindly, and motioned for her to go first.
Tina found the painting that was just above her eye level – the Academy. Tina had never heard its real name. It was always just referred to as the Academy, or by its Arabic counterpart. She had asked, when she first arrived nearly a year ago, but received evasive answers. Names had too much power to be given to foreigners. Names tell of a history, of generations past, tapping into the raw power of 4000 years of magic endowed onto the shoulders of the boys and girls practicing the words over and over again.
With a small flick of her wand, she was sucked into another Apparition room, facing a similar painting as the one she had just left. Mona appeared a few seconds later, not a scroll out of place. She stepped out into the harsh sunlight, smiling a goodbye to Tina.
Tina took a few seconds to reorient herself, and went out into the dry desert air. Located miles away from any civilization, the Academy stood as a small paradise surrounded by desert as far as the eye could see. The main fountain, gently bubbling, stood as the centerpiece in the open courtyard. Small rivulets flowed in arcs across the courtyard into smaller pools, creating a sprawling, complex web extending several stories high. Water pooled into floating bubbles, creating the appearance of a world without gravity. Some of the rivulets were diverted by the students studying on the outdoor chairs and couches into cups (or mouths).
Appearing with a small crowd of the youngest class of six and seven year olds, her son spotted her and dashed through the web of water, avoiding the floating streams as best he could. When he finally reached her, he only had slightly wet hair and one dripping arm.
“You’re getting better, dear.”
Arthur, in response, flashed his slightly lopsided smile. “Soon I’ll do it without a splash.” He paused, his smile growing wider. “Get it? Without a splash?”
Tina only sighed, knowing where he got that awful sense of humor. It wasn’t from her side of the family.
She pressed her son against her, and faced the little painted moving cars and horses of downtown Cairo.
* * * *
Usually Newt came home later than she did, and while that wasn’t normally a problem, today she would rather not have hours to reflect and feel the weight of the conversation she was about to have. She ran questions, possible answers, and entire worst-case scenarios in her head.
What if Britain gets involved?
What if you –
What happens to –