The Scamanders
He scratched at the scruff on his chin as he listened to the younger man speak, nodding thoughtfully when he was done. It was a sound plan, and one he knew the other aurors would get behind, but it was risky.
Still, nothing pertaining to the war would be worth pursuing without a little risk, and Potter had certainly borne the brunt of that thus far.
“The idea has merit,” he concluded, “mind, it is risky. We don’t know what we will face at any given moment, the process they will have in place to call for reinforcements. Believe me, Potter, we laid traps during the first war, and they weren’t as successful as we’d hoped. The moment they found themselves in trouble, they either fled, or more of them would arrive to get them out of there.”
“But these prats aren’t like the Death Eaters. They would’ve been hurriedly recruited without thought that they would be used for what they are now.”
“True,” John conceded, “but you should never underestimate the desire to live by the most cowardly. They will do whatever it takes to save their skins.”
“And we will do whatever we can to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
John nodded.
“It could work, and I don’t doubt you, Potter, but we have to be careful with this. The moment they are onto us, it will stop working.”
“Which means that, at the very least, they will stop responding. It will help keep those on the run safe.”
“Then it will be worth it, but why do you want them locked away? Wouldn’t it just be easier to, well, you know…”
Potter’s expression darkened as he shook his head.
“No, for some of them, Death is the only option, but for others, they should suffer. Death is a gift, John, and it should not always be given so lightly, and certainly not without the suffering.”
His words were ominous and almost given in the same way he’d heard muggle preachers preaching their scripture on the streets of London, and yet, he found nothing disagreeable about what Potter had said.
“I’ll have a word with the others. They’ll be on board with it.”
With merely a nod, Potter vanished in a cloud of black fog, and John shook his head.
For one so young and famous, he had managed to shroud himself in mystery, so much so that it was hard to imagine him as the same boy who’d been spread across every media outlet only a little more than a year prior.
Even so, there was something very unnerving about Harry Potter, about how he managed to set those round him on edge, and though he was a veteran auror in his own right, John Dawlish did not fancy finding himself on the wrong side of Harry Potter.
“Thank Merlin he’s one of the good ones,” he murmured, smiling as one of the children who’d been kept in Azkaban with her parents approached, holding out a piece of parchment for him. “What’s this? Is that me?”
The little girl nodded innocently, and John retrieved a bar of Honeydukes’ best from one of the supply boxes Potter had dropped off.
“Not a word to anyone else,” he said conspiratorially as he handed it to her.
“Thank you, Auror Dawlish!”
John smiled as she ran along.
Life had indeed become different for all who opposed the Dark Lord, but it was moments like this that reminded him of just why it was they were fighting. They were fighting for the innocent children whose futures were so uncertain, for those too old to fight to keep what they’d already fought for so many decades prior, and for themselves who did not wish to find themselves under the tyrannical rule of a monster who would see them all perish because they did not agree with him.
Yes, at times, their victory seemed to be impossible to grasp, but John would continue to fight with his dying breath, and he could not help but think that so long as they had Harry Potter to fight alongside, that maybe, things would be well when all was said and done.
(Break)
“Ha, and Tina says I’m not as fast as I as before,” he said with a grin, checking that his fingers were indeed still intact.
Griffins were particularly grumpy creatures at the best of times, and were not so friendly with humans, especially when it came to food. They seemed to take him touching anything they ate as a personal front, but having spent decades with this herd, Newt liked to think he’d built something of a rapport with them.
At the very least, their efforts to relive him of a digit or two seemed to be only half-hearted.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” he said fondly, placing the bucket he’d been carrying onto the stack of others before beginning the ascent of the suitcase, which had become the only irksome part of caring for his creatures over the years.
Still, it was worth the crick in hid back to be down there.
Of course, in his more advanced years, he needed to be a little more careful than he’d perhaps once been, but not a day had gone by that he’d not tended to those he was nursing back to health.
“You’re doing that funny walk again.”
“What funny walk?”
“The one you do when your back is hurting,” Tina huffed. “Why won’t you find an easier way in and out of it?”
Newt grinned at his frowning wife, though his expression mirrored hers as he spotted a rather beautiful bird perched on the edge of his window.
“Do you recognise that owl, dear?” he asked.
Tina shook her head as she admitted it, and watched as it hopped across the counter to stand in front of Newt.
“What a beautiful thing you are,” he whispered as he carefully removed the letter tied to her leg, “and such poise.”
She watched him intently with her amber eyes, and Newt chuckled as he summoned some meat for it, which the owl began to pick at delicately.
“Well, she certainly has better table manners than you,” his wife quipped.
Newt said nothing in response as he re-read the short missive he’d received. The scrawl was certainly unfamiliar, but the name was one that had spread across much of the wizarding world some fifteen years prior.
Of course, the rumours had gotten rather out of control, but there was one thing that all had managed to agree upon, and that was that Harry Potter had survived the killing curse and put an end to the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Or so it had seemed at the time.
The news from his homeland these past months had been conflicting, with claims that the man was not as dead as most thought, going as far as to speak of the fall of the Ministry of Magic entirely.
Newt did not know what the truth was, but it was certainly curious that the young man at the very centre of it all had written to him of all people.
“What is it?” Tina asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
Newt could only shake her head as he handed her the letter.
“Harry Potter,” she whispered. “Isn’t he…?”
“He is,” Newt confirmed, “but I can’t imagine what he would want from me.”
Tina worried her lower lip.
“Well there is only one way to find out.”
Newt deflated as he nodded and gathered up a quill and piece of parchment to respond to the young man, still curious yet concerned by the entire affair.
Still, it wasn’t as though he was so young and naïve anymore and able to be manipulated into involving himself in things he should leave well alone. No, gone were the days he could be manipulated by Albus’s charms and coercion, and yet, he could not help but think that Potter’s interest in him spelled trouble.
He just didn’t know what kind.
“I’ve invited him to dinner,” he declared as he rolled up his response and attached it to the leg of the waiting snowy owl. “Your master, is he a good man?”
The owl barked almost indignantly before taking off out of the window, and that alone was all he needed to hear.
Men could fool other men with their nature, after all, but a such a noble creature could never be so naïve.
“Better?” Tina asked.
Newt nodded.
“Better, but still curious.”
“As am I.”
(Break)
“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been so bloody terrified,” Tonks murmured.
She was trembling, and Harry felt for her. There were not many who could hold their nerve in Tom’s presence, but evidently, she had done so well enough not to arouse his suspicions.
“Well, I’ve instructed Dobby and Winky to intervene from now on,” he assured her, “but with Carrow already taking liberties, I don’t feel comfortable leaving him there. I need someone who can replace him without arousing suspicion.”
He frowned thoughtfully.
Remus would likely do it, but then there was the problem with his lycanthropy. No, it would undoubtedly not be missed that he was absent for several days out of the month.
Perhaps he would discuss the matter with Dawlish. One of the aurors would likely volunteer.
“You’ll have to keep him alive for the Polyjuice potion.”
“I’ve got the perfect place for a little shit like that,” Harry said dismissively.
If all went to plan, there was a perfect place for as many of Riddle’s followers as he could capture, and though he never thought he’d be doing so willingly, he thanked Grindelwald for providing him with a veritable fortress.
Tonks nodded.
“How bad is it in there?” Harry asked.
“It’s strange. The new kids who’ve never been to Hogwarts are as excited as they are terrified, and the returning students know something isn’t right. It’s tense in there, Harry, and it is going to boil over eventually. The Slytherins aren’t half as bad as you warned me, but…”
“That’s only because Malfoy isn’t there,” Harry muttered. “I will catch up to that git eventually. Dumbledore may have let him get away with what he did, but I won’t.”
Finding Draco was one thing on a very long list of many he needed to tend to between here and the other world waiting for him. Of course, his mind would often drift to whatever was happening there, but until he received a response from Scamander, he had so little to work with.
Cassiopeia Black wasn’t much help, and as far as Harry was concerned, the less time he spent with her, the better.
Still, if and when he received a reply from Scamander, he would revisit what awaited him almost a century prior.
“How are we going to get through this, Harry?” Tonks asked worriedly.
“Well, Hogwarts is still under my control, and he has no prisoners in Azkaban. I have other plans in motion, one I am working on with the Weasleys, and another venture of my own.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re really going to cause trouble?”
“Because I am,” Harry chuckled humourlessly. “Old Tom might think what I did at Azkaban was bad, but he’s not seen anything yet. Keep an eye on the news because it will happen soon, and I’m going to make sure no one misses it.”
Tonks eyed him for a moment before deciding to press for further information.
Not that Harry would tell her.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the woman, but in this instance, he was telling no one.
“You know, you’re a scary young man,” Tonks sighed, “and thank you. I will do what I can in the castle.”
“What about the seventh floor?”
“No one has been near it except for Neville Longbottom. Not even Voldemort when he visited the castle. I checked.”
“Then he is certain it is still there,” Harry mused aloud.
“What is?”
“Nothing you want to know about. Believe me, you really don’t, and Neville will just be using the room. Maybe have a word with him about it and encourage him to use it as a haven for any students who may need it. You can’t be everywhere at once.”
Tonks nodded as she stood.
“it’s going to get worse in there, isn’t it?”
“Unbearable,” Harry said apologetically. “I will figure out what to do about Carrow. He’ll be gone before he can harm anyone.”
“Good, and I hope Voldemort stays away.”
“I don’t think he will be there much. I’ll make sure I keep him busy enough,” Harry assured her with a grin.
“Well, whatever you’re doing, be careful,” Tonks urged before stepping through the fireplace of the study.
“Be careful,” Harry snorted.
“She’s right. Just because we’re at war, that doesn’t mean you should be a reckless prat.”
“I’ve always been a reckless prat.”
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him from the doorway to the study.
“I want to help you,” she declared as she entered the room. “I feel useless just sitting around here. I want to do my part.”
“You want to help me?”
She nodded resolutely and Harry leaned back in his chair.
If there was one person he could trust implicitly above all others, it was the young woman standing in front him. However, Hermione was not like him in many ways, and though he did not doubt her grit and determination, he was reluctant to put her in danger.
Even so, if she was certain, there were many things she could assist him with.
“Alright,” he decided as he removed a roll of parchment from the top drawer of the desk.
He unfurled it before placing it between them and allowed Hermione to figure out his intentions. As expected, it barely took her a moment to do so, and she scoffed.
“Harry, you can’t! The Ministry is…”
“He placed a finger to his lips to silence her.
“I know, but it has to be done, and I’d rather it be sooner or later.”
Hermione shook her head.
“The risk…”
“Will be minimised if you plan it. You’re better than me at this stuff. Look what happened at Azkaban. It worked, but I doubt you would’ve ballsed it up so much.”
She scowled at him unhappily.
Hermione had been most displeased by his venture to the island prison and had given him a piece of her mind when she’d realised how he’d decided to approach it.
Not that she’d offered an alternative, but knowing Hermione, she would’ve had one.
“I have a few ideas,” she conceded. “Give me some time.”
Harry offered her a winning smile, which was not returned.
“Just out of interest, how were you planning on doing this?”
Harry shrugged.
“I was just going to use the cloak.”
“You were going to go in, do what you think you needed to, and then leave.”
“What else would I do?”
“Gather information, and the best way to do that, is to blend in. The cloak is good for being invisible, but if you can blend in, you can get more out of it in crowded rooms. Spies used to do it during muggle wars.”
“So, you want me to do something even more risky?”
“It is less risky if you plan it correctly, and you’re not an idiot.”
“Just a reckless prat.”
“Yes, but if you do it my way, you can get all the information you could want instead of just destroying everything in your path.”
He watched as she took his quill and began scratching away. For several moments, the sound filled the room, and when she was done, she cast a drying charm on the ink.
Harry read her suggestions and chuckled to himself.
“Alright, your way is better, but it is still risky.”
“But with more reward.”
Harry shook his head amusedly.
“You know, you’d be a bloody frightening dark witch if you decided to take that path. Ron always said you were terrifying. He wasn’t wrong.”
She almost preened under the intended complement, but instead, she deflated.
“I just want this over, Harry. I miss my parents, and I hate how miserable the world has become. I wish it wasn’t you that had to do it, but if there’s any way I can help, I will. I can see what it will be like if we lose.”
“If we lose, everyone loses, Hermione.”
She nodded before leaving the room, and Harry read through her plan once more.
In some ways, it was riskier than his own, and yet, she was right. If he was careful, he could get much more out of this little venture than he’d initially intended.”
(Break)
He watched as his younger brother frowned rather petulantly, swirling the whiskey in his glass, his jaw tight in irritation. Marius Black had never been one to take no for an answer, or to be told what he could and couldn’t do.
As far as he was concerned, the name he carried granted him the right and permission to do whatever he liked, and it had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.
Orion had always believed that his biggest problem was that he was restless, unable to simply enjoy the many privileges he’d been granted, and in some ways, had become self-destructive because of it.
That was why he took part in the muggle hunting activities, why he so liked to gamble with his gold, and even with his life. What he had failed to realise for much of his life, however, was that these risks came with consequences, and though his name did indeed shield him from much of it, there was only so far it could protect him.
“So, what happened?”
“It is as I said, we bumped into one another, and he was quite amenable. We spoke as gentlemen, and he agreed to not involve himself in our family affairs so long as he did not come across anyone hunting muggles, and I agreed that the incident between yourselves had been an unfortunate mistake. You are going to make that same agreement with me, here and now.
“A mistake!” Marius hissed furiously as he stood. “He cursed my wife!”
Orion was unmoved by his brother’s anger. He’d always been quick to it, but with much less bite than there was bark.
“A mistake. Peverell did not know who any of you were and was simply reacting to an incident he found himself caught in the middle of.”
“And you believe him.”
“I do. He had no reason to lie to me. Marius, he is a young man finding his way in the world, but not one that should be taken lightly. You experienced for yourself that he is capable of handling himself, and I had the advantage of looking him in the eyes. He is not one to be crossed so readily, and I would avoid any further unpleasantness between us, so, I expect you to comply with my wishes. Let it go. Besides, it is not likely the two of you will see each other again. It is not as though you run in the same circles nor do you share any interests. This is what is for the best for all involved.”
Marius pursed his lips unhappily, the same way he did when he’d been a child not getting his way, but nodded, nonetheless.
“Fine,” he agreed grumpily as he left the room.
He’d not seen much of his younger brother since that conversation. Marius could sulk for weeks before he got over something, and Orion was content to let him to do as he wished.
At the very least, it wasn’t his problem.
“Father?”
The sound of his daughter’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Orion offered the girl a fond smile as she entered the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
“I know that look, Cassiopeia,” he sighed. “What do you want?”
She was a sweet girl in her own way, as sharp as any Black that had come before her and blessed with an exceptional beauty to go along with it. She would be trouble for any would-be husband, but such thoughts could wait for at least a couple of years yet.
She still had her schooling to complete, after all, and he would not see her potential wasted.
“What look?” she asked innocently as she took the seat on the opposite side of the desk.
Orion shook his head.
He wasn’t going to play the back and forward game with the girl. She would maintain that look of innocence in a bid to frustrate him, to lower his guard before asking something of him he would be unable to refuse.
“What do you want, girl?” he asked a little more firmly.
Cassiopeia pouted briefly before the smile was back in place.
“I was hoping that I could have your permission to travel during the summer to watch the duelling championships. I thought I might like to be a duellist, but I’d like to experience it first.”
Orion nodded thoughtfully.
He remembered when he’d been a regular attendee of the duels before his responsibilities had become his priority. He had witnessed some most impressive things, and many of the occasions remained some of his fondest memories.
Still, he could not simply agree to such a thing so readily, and he certainly would not allow Cassiopeia to travel across the continent alone. No, that simply would not do.
“I will need to think about it,” he answered. “A young lady, even a Black, should not be attending these events unaccompanied. If I say no, it is with good reason, but if I cannot make the necessary arrangements for this year, I will see that you can go next summer. That is my only offer.”
The girl nodded readily before rounding the desk to throw her arms around his neck.
“Thank you!” she said excitedly before skipping from the room, eliciting a chuckle from the man.
He adored his children as all men did.
Cassiopeia could be a little rebellious still, that was simply her nature, but she was ambitious, talented, and tenacious in all things she pursued.
Orion did not doubt that even if he would’ve said no to his daughter, she would find a way to get what she wanted, so he found it best to compromise with her as much as he could.
Perseus, his heir, was a quiet boy for the most part, possessed a brilliant mind and a ruthlessness that would serve him well when the day came that he would take his place as the head of the family.
No, Orion was not concerned about him, even if he could be led astray by his older sister.
Arcturus was still just a boy, a little more serious than his siblings, but had the keenest of minds. How talented he was with a wand remained to be seen, but he was a Black, so Orion was not so concerned about him.
He smiled at the thought of the future of each of them, and it only widened as his heavily pregnant wife entered his study, clutching at her swollen belly.
“You look happy,” Violetta observed.
Orion shrugged in response.
“Should I not be?”
The woman hummed at him.
“Usually, when you’re happy, it means that someone else isn’t.”
“Not this time,” Orion assured her as he stood, resting his hand on her stomach. “Girl or boy?”
Violetta rolled her eyes at him.
“You ask me the same thing every day.”
“And you refuse to answer.”
“Because it doesn’t matter. Whether it is a girl or boy, they will be as brilliant as their mother, just like the three we already have.”
She placed a kiss on his cheek and took her leave of the room, and Orion chuckled once more.
“Oh, you got me there,” he said amusedly, shaking his head.
Of course, she was right, just as she was with most things, but Orion didn’t mind. He’d married a most exceptional woman, and their children did indeed take after her in many of their ways.
Not that he would complain.
His Violetta was as close to a perfect wife as he could ask for.
(Break)
“It’s bad enough that he has the Ministry, but him being in control of Hogwarts…”
Dawlish broke off and shook his head.
“Well, he’s not, not really,” Harry assured the man. “He might occupy the castle, but he doesn’t control it.”
Dawlish frowned before his eyes widened.
“You!”
Harry nodded.
“With Dumbledore dead and McGonagall being murdered, it was going to happen. I just got their first. On the surface, Snape is the headmaster, but officially, it’s me. It is better that he thinks he is in control, John, or he will just try to take it by force. We both know what will happen then.”
Dawlish nodded gravely.
“And the kids would be caught up in the middle of it,” he murmured. “Alright, I think I have just the man to help you. He’s an expert in undercover work. Wait here.”
He left, and Harry took a moment to look around.
What had been a derelict, neglected farm that had been untouched for years was now something of a thriving community made up of those escaping Riddle’s regime.
There were hundreds of them here, safe and secure from the unfair prejudice of the powers that be, all protected by what Harry hoped would once again be the law and order of the country.
“Potter, this is David Jones. Jones, this is Potter.”
“Ah, I know who he is, John,” Jones chuckled, offering his hand. “Gwen has been dreading him turning pro and tearing through the league.”
“Gwen?” Harry asked, accepting the proffered limb.
“Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyfield Harpies, and my little sister,” David explained with a grin. “She’s an incredible Quidditch player, and there aren’t many who worry her on a broom. She’s been watching you since your first year at Hogwarts.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or disturbed.”
“Probably both,” David snorted. “Gwen takes her Quidditch as seriously as anything, well, she did. Most of the teams have been disbanded with the war going on.”
“That’s why you’re here, Jones,” Dawlish interjected. “Potter needs your expertise. It’s a bloody dangerous job, but I think you’re the best man for it.”
“What is it?” Jones asked.
“You’re going to pose as Alecto Carrow who is posing as someone else at Hogwarts.”
Jones blinked, and Harry could see his mind working through a dozen or so thoughts a second.
“You’re going to have to explain,” he sighed.
Harry did so, and when he was done, Jones nodded thoughtfully.
“Of course, I’ll do it,” he declared. “If it help keeps the nippers safe.”
“Thank you,” Harry offered sincerely. “You’ll need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I don’t plan on leaving him there.”
“I’ll be ready,” Jones assured him. “Don’t worry about that, Potter.”
He left to prepare, and Dawlish released a deep breath.
“He’s a good man, Harry. I would see him kept safe.”
“Everything I can do will be done, John,” he promised.
“When?”
“Tomorrow, I expect. There’s something I need to do first.”
Dawlish nodded, and Harry activated his portkey to return him briefly to Grimmauld Place so that he could prepare for his next venture; attending an invitation to dine with Newt Scamander and his wife.
What the man could tell him remained to be seen, but if it helped in any way to discover what Grindelwald was up to, it would be worth time spent speaking with him, and if he couldn’t, nothing would be lost, though Harry would find himself back at the beginning in learning what it was Grindelwald had done in America during his early rise to power.
(Break)
“Rumours are rife, my lord,” Yaxley spoke. “They know that Potter is somehow connected to what happened in Knockturn Alley, but so far, we’ve managed to keep what happened on Azkaban quiet.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“They whisper about him, my lord. They speak of him as though hie is their great hope, and I…”
He broke off and the Dark Lord glared at him.
“You what, Yaxley?” he pressed dangerously.
“I’m afraid that until he is dead, there will always be those that will never bow to you.”
He felt his jaw tighten.
“Then fix it!”
“I do have a suggestion.”
“Go on.”
“I say he is the first to be named as a wanted man. He failed to return to Hogwarts for his final year of schooling, and he is a suspect that saw several people killed. Offer a substantial reward for any information leading to is capture, and the people will turn against him. They’re fickle, my lord, and this time, it works in our favour. If he is accused of murder…”
It was an idea he had been considering for some time now and had been reluctant to follow through with it because he wanted to find Potter of his own accord.
Still, how the boy was placed before him did not matter as much as his final victory, and with Potter out of the picture, that victory would be his.
“Do it, Yaxley. I want his face across every newspaper, his name on every pair of lips. I want there to be nowhere safe for him.”
Yaxley grinned in return and nodded.
“It will be done, my lord.”
(Break)
The young man sitting at his dining table was indeed young, but his eyes spoke of one much older, who had seen more than any his age should. It had been the same for Newt during his first stint in America.
He had witnessed firsthand the incredible things that Gellert Grindelwald was capable, and yet, he could not comprehend his own gaze being so hardened, not the way that Harry Potter’s was.
The boy, for that was what he was, was polite, respectful, and even possessed the dry sense of humour that Newt often missed living here, but there was a vigilance about him, an edge he doubted Harry would ever be rid of.
“Thank you,” he offered sincerely. “I’ve never had meatloaf before, but it is something I will look to eat again. It was wonderful, Mrs Scamander.”
Tina waved him off with a smile and began clearing the table whilst Newt continued to watch the boy.
“My apologies, Harry, but I cannot fathom why it is you would wish to meet with me, not unless you have a problem pertaining to a creature.”
He chuckled as he shook his head.
“I’ve had more than my fair share of problems with them. I was bitten by a basilisk, a house-elf almost got me expelled from Hogwarts, I was almost eaten by hundreds of Acromantula, bitten by a werewolf, and outflew a dragon, and that’s only the half of it.”
Newt could only gape at the young man as he digested what he said, and even Tina had stopped washing the dishes in the nearby sink.
“Bitten by a basilisk?” he scoffed.
Harry nodded as though it was the most casual of instances.
“And healed by Dumbledore’s phoenix,” he explained, rolling up his sleeve to show the puckered flesh next to his elbow.
It wasn’t often that Newt was lost for words. He’d seen his fair share of unlikely things throughout his life, but the fact that the young man sitting before him was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.
“I thought I had learned much about you, Harry Potter. Of course, I looked into when I received your letter, but it seems I barely scratched the surface. My apologies, but me and Albus did not speak much these past decades. We exchanged pleasant letters from time to time, but after everything…”
He broke off with another shake of his head.
He and Tina scarcely mentioned the past, and certainly did not dwell on it.
No, they had left that all behind a long time ago, and neither had any desire to revisit it.
“You mean Grindelwald.”
Just the mention of the name filled him with dread, and Newt nodded stiffly.
“What happened here?” Harry asked. “I know that he came here around the turn of the century, but there’s not so much known about it.”
“Because the MACUSA went to great lengths to keep it that way,” Tina interjected. “It was a most embarrassing incident, and they did not wish for it to get out. That is why they chose not to pursue him.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
“Dumbledore mentioned that you were both caught in the middle of it.”
Newt wasn’t sure why the young man was so interested, but before he could even consider satisfying that curiosity, he felt a sharp pang in his chest.
“I’m afraid we cannot go into details,” he said with a grimace. “A part of me being allowed to live here was that I would give a strict vow not to mention him, and my own crimes would be forgiven.”
“Your crimes?”
Newt failed to fight the urge to grin at the memories of traipsing around New York City in a bid to round up the creatures that had escaped from his suitcase.
Now, he looked back on them fondly, but at the time, he could truly have been in so much trouble.
“Mostly trivial things,” he said dismissively, “but I can say no more on the matter of him.”
“Of course,” Harry said, unable to hide his disappointment.
“You seem rather interested in something that happened so long ago,” Tina pointed out.
“Because it was much more recent for me,” Harry sighed. “So few know this, but Grindelwald did not die the day Dumbledore defeated.”
“He’s still alive?” Tina choked.
“No, no,” Harry assured her, “but he was until recently. I just need to put some pieces together about what I learned. I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to drag up painful memories, but there are so few still alive who can help me.”
Tina and Newt breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“And you will find few willing or able to speak about it. MACUSA was very thorough in ensuring that, but there might be one person who can help you…”
“Who?”
Tina looked towards him and nodded, and Newt summoned a piece of parchment and a quill before taking down a few notes. When he was done, he handed it to Harry, who was taken aback by what he read.
“Seraphina Picquery. Wasn’t she the president?”
“She was and spearheaded the campaign of silence. For her, it was personally embarrassing, and she stepped down not so long after he escaped custody. She is probably the only person alive who can help you with whatever it is you need.”
Harry nodded as he took in the details, smiling appreciatively.
“Thank you, you have no idea how much this might just make a difference.”
What he meant by that, Newt could not begin to fathom. He was simply pleased that the subject seemed to have been ended, and relieved that somehow, he would not be roped into anything else that Albus had somehow been involved in.
No, he was much too old for such foolishness now.
He would leave that to Harry Potter, who, evidently, had already experienced more than his fair share of it.