Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

About nine months had passed since Paris. Grindelwald’s movement spread across the wizarding world like wildfire, earning him a significant amount of followers. Tension grew within the wizard community, causing the ministry a lot of grief. Grindelwald, being the infamous, conniving dark wizard he was, went underground. No one has seen or heard from him since. He was nothing but a menacing whisper in the wind.

Even still, the damage he caused festered. Darkness spread throughout Europe, slowly inching its way around the world like a disease. The loss of Leta Lestrange fell heavily upon Newt and his brother Theseus. Theseus, being Leta’s ex-fiancé, became vengeful and apt to square his vendetta with Grindelwald. Newt, having also shared a love for the young, beautiful Lestrange, felt obligated to aid his older brother and guide him through his grief, putting aside his own for his sake. It was something he had grown quite accustomed to over these past several months. 

Aside from Theseus, there was also Jacob, his closest friend. Jacob lost someone that night as well, Queenie Goldstien, the effervescent younger sister of Tina Goldstien. Queenie had been successfully seduced by Grindelwald’s ideologies and, in a desperate attempt to control her fate, left with him. The charismatic muggle baker had succumbed to his grief and guilt, making a shell of a man. He, like Theseus, had turned to drink but at a more devastating turn. Theseus’s recurring drunkenness was surprisingly functional. As the head of the British Auror Office, he had responsibility enough to not drink on duty, though Newt felt he was one slip away from it. Theseus kept such indulgences for the night, where he could forget about it in the morning and whisk away any fogginess with the flick of his wand. Jacob, however, stayed in his wallowing, in a constant puddle of firewhisky, butterbeer, or red currant rum, depending on the day. They were much better than muggle alcohol, he would say. 

Watching two of the closest people to him grieve in such similar fashions made him wonder if his grief should manifest in the same way. But Newt never much liked the taste of alcohol, and though Jacob could throw back enough butterbeers to feel the effects of its low alcohol content, the thought made him feel ill. Instead, Newt turned to his work, focusing all his attention on his conservation efforts and the care of his creatures. Any thoughts of Paris, Leta’s death, Tina’s distance, and the looming threat of Grindelwald’s movement for wizard supremacy deafened in his vivarium.

While in his London flat, Newt was feeding a hippocampus when his assistant, Bunty, called his name. Her quiet-like nature went unnoticed by him, and she resorted to tapping him on his broad shoulder. “Newt, there is a letter for you,” she said, handing him the envelope. Newt took it into his hands. “Thank you, Bunty.”

The envelope was blank, the only defining feature being the unmistakable Hogwarts seal. Newt broke the red wax, opening the letter. As expected, it was from Albus Dumbledore. The letter read simply, 'London Bridge,' with Dumbledore’s unique signature. “Bunty,” Newt called as he tucked the letter into his pant pocket, unaware of her presence looming behind him. She inched closer to his side. “Yes, Newt?”

“I need you to finish up for me. I have taken care of the kelpie, and there is no need to bother the zouwu,” he told her as he walked through the maze of creatures. “I can handle her when I get back.” Newt was searching for his coat. Bunty saw it hung over the mooncalves’ fence and picked it up, shaking away the dirt. Newt whirled around, and she presented it to him. He thanked her as she helped him slide it over his shoulders. “Should I finish the kappa enclosure while you’re gone?” She asked.

“No, that’s not necessary,” he said. “There is no need to wait for me. You can clock off when you’ve finished.” Newt gave her a closed smile and jogged up the stairs, leaving her behind. Newt left his apartment and walked along the cobblestone road. It was night, and the streets were slick with rain. He looked around to ensure no one was watching before apparating to the London bridge. Upon arriving, he saw the cloaked figure of Albus Dumbledore just a few feet ahead of him. Dumbledore had his back towards Newt as he looked over the bridge. His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, and his collar was turned up. “Have you ever wondered what controls you, Newt?” He asked, still facing the Thames. “The heart or the mind? Or perhaps you think it’s both.”

Newt ignored Dumbledore’s question and presented his own. “Why have you called me here?”

“I am not sure myself,” Dumbledore continued. “I can’t find the logic behind why we do the things we do. But perhaps that in itself is the answer.”

Newt walked to Dumbledore’s side and leaned against the railing. The air was heavy and thick with the weight of the situation. Evidently, Newt knew why he was being called. In fact, he was expecting it. Dumbledore turned to Newt in a serious manner. “Grindelwald has successfully seduced half of Europe. Many of his followers have been carrying out his agenda, preaching to others while he continues to hide and weaponize Credence.” He motioned for Newt to follow him, leading him off the bridge. “What we cannot afford is more enemies. That is why I have summoned you.”

“How does this pertain to me exactly?” Newt asked.

“You are well-traveled, Newt,” said Dumbledore as he rounded a corner. “So, naturally, it could only be you.”

They came upon a small tavern that stuck out from the rest of the surrounding buildings. Dumbledore held the door open for Newt before walking in after him. The tavern was practically empty besides the few drunk persons scattered by the bar and those who worked there. They took a booth in the corner of the room, away from prying ears.

Dumbledore took his seat across from Newt. “Have you talked to the Ministry?”

Newt shook his head. “Not recently. Not since the week after Paris.”

“Good.” Dumbledore waved over the waitress to bring drinks. “As I said before, Grindelwald’s influence has spread. Rumor has it that his henchmen have been killing and enslaving witches and wizards that do not have pure blood.”

“Last I heard, his influence was heavy in Germany,” Newt added.

“Yes, that is the last I’ve heard as well.”

The waitress came upon the two men and gave them mugs of butterbeer. Dumbledore thanked her and gave her two galleons, sending her off. “The Ministry won’t listen,” said Dumbledore. “They’ve been imprisoning traitors.” 

Newt’s eyes widened. “The Dementors.” He recalled hearing rumors of Dementors scouring the city in search of Grindelwald’s followers.

Dumbledore nodded. “They think by striking fear into their hearts, they will obtain loyalty. Blind to the fact that their hostilities drive more towards Grindelwald.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled from it a dragon skin pouch and an envelope. He placed it on the table. “This should be enough,” he said.

Newt furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, ‘should be enough’ for what?”

“Your trip, of course.” Dumbledore took a swig of butterbeer, drank half of it, and exhaled in satisfaction. “I’d suggest going to the Mediterranean first, they’ve yet to be influenced. If I’m not mistaken, there is a ship leaving tomorrow morning in Plymouth.”

Newt was having trouble processing Dumbledore’s words. He didn’t seem to notice and spoke to him as if what he were saying were obvious. Newt watched Dumbledore rise to his feet. He looked down at Newt, offering him a kind smile that Newt couldn’t help but sense a penitence behind. “I want you to know, I do not take joy involving you in this, Newt. But you are the only one I can trust. You’ll know what to do.”

“But what about—”

“Good luck, Newt.”

Dumbledore tossed two coins onto the table before turning on his heels and walking out the door. Newt was left in the tavern alone and defeated. He stared at the pouch and letter in front of him for a moment before he felt the slow turn of his lips. He wasn’t proud of it, but despite all else, Newt craved such a distraction. He wished he could honestly say that his motivations for acting as some sort of liaison for Dumbledore were pure. While he did have honorable reasons to act against Grindelwald, and they did play a significant part in it, truthfully, he simply enjoyed it. There is an air of adventure and danger that drives him, a vice he often satiates with his magical beast obsession. But upon occasion, when the time calls for it, he will further push his limits and surrender to his nature. Such impulses caused him much trouble during his short years at Hogwarts (although it also made him a rather decent chaser), led him to the Eastern Front during the Great War to tame Ukranian Ironbellies, and evidently entangled him in Dumbledore’s bidding against Grindelwald in New York and Paris. If the ministry and Theseus had it their way, he would be an auror, an exceptional one at that. But such a life made Newt feel like a caged wild-caught pegasus. This, however, was far more tempting.

When he returned to his flat, he ran up the stairs and barged into a side room. It was a small, dreary old room, almost too small for a grown man. It didn’t help that most of the floor was littered with bottles and half-eaten plates. In the single bed pushed up against a corner laid the shell of Jacob Kowalski; his once dapper and spirited persona now sour and grim, and instead of proper pajamas, he wore a dingy wife beater decorated with questionable stains and striped white and blue boxers. He laid face down in the bed, the sheets intertwined messily between his legs, and his hand loosely gripped a half-empty bottle of nettle wine.

“Jacob, wake up!” Newt turned on the light by his limp friend’s side. Jacob groaned and turned his back to block the glare from his eyes.

“Go away, I’m sulking,” he mumbled hazily.

“Yes, I can see that,” Newt snarked. “But we have to pack.”

Jacob turned to face Newt, squinting in his direction. “What?”

Newt pulled out a suitcase and started filling it with Jacob’s clothes. Jacob sat upright in the bed. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?”

“We are going on a trip,” said Newt.

“A trip,” Jacob repeated.

“Yes.”

“And where is this ‘trip’ taking us, exactly?”

“Italy, I suspect.”

“What’s in Italy?”

“People we need to help,” Newt said plainly.

Jacob rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, right,” he scoffed, turning his back to the wizard. “Just leave me alone, Newt.”

Newt stopped packing and glanced at his melancholic friend. After the battle of Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, Jacob was too distraught to make it back to America. One portkey from Paris to London was all he could manage, and Newt feared that sending Jacob alone to New York would do more harm than good. He offered his home to Jacob, insisting he stay as long as he needed. When he made the offer, he thought Jacob would stay a couple of weeks, a month at best. But one month turned to two, then five, and now nine. There were some days when Jacob was almost himself, good days, but more often than not, he was like this, hollow. 

Newt halted his actions and moved to sit next to Jacob. He placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “We could find Queenie, Jacob.”

Jacob tensed at the mention of her name. He stayed silent, unrelenting. Newt withdrew his hand and began to leave the room when he heard Jacob stir in the bed. When he turned around, Jacob was on his feet, a new fire swirling behind his black eyes.

“When do we leave?”

Chapter Text

The moments just before dawn were always the most peaceful. At dawn, the sky was painted lapis, and the air was brisk. The docks were no different. The air was cool and smelled of seawater. A light fog blanketed the boats and piers, providing camouflage for the gulls hunting an unsuspecting fishermen’s catch. Newt ambled down the pier with his case in hand. Jacob less-than gracefully stumbled behind him, nauseated by the portkey they just ventured through.  

“Oh, God, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jacob groaned weakly.

His wailing went neglected by Newt, who was far too busy unscrambling the thoughts in his mind. Dumbledore had told him that a ship to the Mediterranean was leaving in Plymouth this morning, and yet the docks were half empty, the only implements filling them being sailboats and fishing vessels. Upon arrival, he’d asked the first sailor they’d come across when the ship would come to port. The sailor brazenly voiced his annoyance with Newt and claimed that no such ship comes to dock there. Newt clenched his jaw. His irritation created a deep line in the center of his forehead between his eyebrows. He shoved his hand into his pocket when it brushed against a piece of parchment. His mind returned to last night’s encounter and the envelope Dumbledore had handed him. He pulled the paper out of his pocket and examined its front. The name ‘Uluras’ was written in Dumbledore’s hand. He didn’t recall seeing that earlier.

He whirled around and caught the arm of another passing fisherman. He asked four strangers if they knew anyone by the name of Uluras, all of whom denied ever hearing such a name. A woman who had just disappointed Newt with her answer left his presence to board a boat when a young man came up behind him. Jacob, having been aware of his presence, nudged Newt’s arm to gain his attention.

“Why are you looking for Uluras?”

A boy no older than seventeen stood before them, holding a box full of cod. His dark brown skin glistened with a mixture of sweat and seawater. He was tall and lean; his droopy clothes were muted and worn with age.

“Do you know him?” Asked Newt.

The boy’s eyes scanned the two men, using his intuition to determine whether they were a threat.

“Yeah, I know him,” he answered, finally. “What do you need him for?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I have this letter for him.” Newt handed the boy the letter. He placed the box on the ground and read the front before flipping it to the back. His eyes were drawn to the red seal that held the letter together. His once stone-set face washed over with recognition. He returned the envelope to Newt, bending down to pick up the box of fish.

He gestured towards the mainland with his head. “Follow me.”

Newt and Jacob shared a look before trailing behind him. They followed him up a trail through a rural plane. They trekked wordlessly for about a mile when they came to an isolated beach. Resting on a cliff overlooking the sea was an odd-looking shack. From where they stood at the base of the precipice, it was terribly worn. It looked almost as if one strong gust of wind would send it hurtling into the sea. Taking a quick look back at the two men lagging behind, the boy adjusted the heavy cargo in his hands and began hiking up the cliff towards the shack. Jacob struggled to walk on the inclining ground, still recovering from his protkey-sickness. Newt took long strides, trailing the boy posthaste. Jacob called after Newt breathlessly as he stumbled over the rough terrain of the hill until he finally managed to grasp the back of his coat.

“Newt, buddy,” he huffed. “You know I like spending time with you, right?”

Newt slowed his pace to walk beside him, unsure of where the sudden sentiment came from. “Yes?”

“Good, good. Well, as nice as this boys' trip is, don’t you think it’d be faster to do… whatever magic transportation thing you have to get to Italy? This seems shady, even for you.”

“I wish we could, Jacob. But ever since Paris, the Ministry has been adamant in restricting international travel; only aurors and authorized wizards are allowed to travel now. The Ministry cannot know what we’re doing, so we’ll have to travel discreetly to avoid them.”

“Right,” Jacob hummed. “Discreet.”

Newt smirked. “We could always use another portkey, if you’d like.”

Jacob’s face screwed up at the thought. “Nah, I’m good.”

Newt smiled to himself and continued up the hill to the shack. It was even more ghastly looking up close. The structure was crooked, and with each gust of wind, it appeared to sway. The wood was black with rot and mildew. Spots of green mold and moss crept up the sides, covering the roof shingles. The wind was strongest at the crest of the cliff. It howled in their ears like a wailing spirit and caused the wind chimes hanging under the porch to play a tumultuous percussion. Shrieking gulls circled the shack and swooped low to the ground upon their arrival, hoping to snag a fish from the defenseless boy’s hands. He led them up the decaying stairs and to the peeling front door. Sounds of metal clinking together and floorboards creaking under shuffling feet could be heard from inside. With a kick of his foot, the boy pushed the door open and walked inside.

The inside was surprisingly well-kept in comparison to the exterior. Though the structure was deteriorating, it was made more appealing with bright turquoise paint that covered obscene blemishes and contrasted the white-painted beams on the ceiling. The various nicknacks and trinkets that lined the walls helped distract from the shabby furniture and moth-eaten curtains that covered grimy windows. It was a reasonably sized abode. From where they stood in the center of the shack, they saw a kitchen, a door suspected to lead to a bathroom, and another door was left ajar, revealing the bedroom behind it. To the left was a set of creaky stairs that disappeared to the second floor.

The boy told Newt and Jacob to follow him into the kitchen, where a side room was connected. Across the room was an older man hunched over a blue wooden workbench. Above him was a wall lined with fishing gear ranging from hooks to harpoons. He worked busily on a metal contraption, screwing nails into overlapping metal sheets.

“Baaba,” the boy called.

The man didn’t turn around, entirely focused on the work in front of him. “Nuh badda mi, Niris. You know I am workin’.”

The boy sighed and placed the fish on the ground before walking over to his father. “Baaba, there’s some people here to see you.”

The man lifted his head and turned to face Newt and Jacob standing awkwardly by the archway. He had a strong face; angular, and relatively free of wrinkles. The only indication of his age were the silver speckles that colored his black dreadlocks and scraggly beard. There was no doubt the man was the boy’s father; he took after him quite well. The man gently patted the young boy’s arm and pushed him back towards the kitchen. Reluctantly, he went, leaving the three men alone.  

Newt took a step forward. “Are you Uluras?” He asked.

“Aye, that’d be me,” said the man. “Who wants to know?”

“My name is Newt Scamander, and this is my friend Jacob Kowalski. He’s a muggle. I have a letter for you.” Newt fished the envelope from his pocket and handed it to him. “It’s from Albus Dumbledore.”

Both of Uluras’s eyebrows jumped. “Albus Dumbledore sent you this?”

Newt nodded. Uluras eyed the two suspiciously before opening the envelope. Newt shifted anxiously as he read. His eyes scanned the paper, his expression softening with each line. When he reached the end, he sucked his teeth and threw the envelope onto the work table.  

“This man come to mi a ask mi fi someting like this?” He exasperated. “Mi tell him fi let mi know if there be anyting he need be done, an’ him send mi a war!” Uluras mumbled to himself as he crossed the floor, walking to a bookcase filled with anything but books. He ran his finger across one of the shelves when he came across a figurine of a pirate ship. He pushed the figure back and turned it about ninety degrees. 

An audible click and a low rumbling came from underfoot. The bookcase split into two and pulled apart to reveal a tunnel carved out of stone leading downwards. It was hard to tell how long it stretched, but occasional drops of water that fell from the ceiling echoed throughout the passage, and flickers of burning sconces lit the way. Once the rumbling stopped, and the bookcase seemed to set in its open position, Uluras grabbed a pile of rope lying in a corner and slung it over his shoulder and descended into the tunnel.

“Come dis way, foofool!” His voice bounced off the rock walls.

Newt and Jacob peered into the dim hole, their expressions displaying their contrasting emotions.

“Seems like a fun guy,” Jacob snarked.

Newt looked at Jacob with an amused smile before gripping his suitcase and following after Uluras. Jacob threw his hands up in exasperation, begrudgingly walking inside. “So, this is what we’re doing now?” He mumbled, gruffly. “Following angry old men into creepy tunnels? Where did this tunnel even come from? Is nobody going to ask that? We’re on a cliff!”

The passage sloped downhill. It was cold, and the scent of seawater grew stronger the deeper they went. “Where exactly is he taking us?” Jacob whispered. Newt began to answer, but Uluras spoke first, surprising them both. “Yuh need a ship, do yuh not?” He said.

“Yes, we do,” Newt affirmed.

“Den that’s where wi a going,” Uluras said, effectively silencing all doubts.

As they walked through the tunnel, a blueish light slowly engulfed them. Light from an unseen water source reflected against the walls and ceiling of the cavern, casting rippling white beams all over. When they reached what seemed to be an irrefutable dead-end, Uluras, as though he had done it a thousand times before, pressed his hands flat on the rocky wall that blocked their path and whispered a chant in a language neither Newt nor Jacob had heard before. The rock made a terrible crumbling sound, and a large crack in the center of the wall formed, splitting the stone into two halves. The earth beneath them began to tremble as the wall slowly parted like sliding doors.

Uluras stopped chanting and stepped back as the wall broke off to reveal what it was meant to conceal. What a glorious sight it was, the view beyond the wall. From the grand ceiling were stalactites that protruded threateningly. The air was thick and moist, and a refreshing salty mist dampened their skin. It was a glorious cavern where a vibrant blue pool of water collected at its center and stretched farther into a canal that led out to sea. It wasn’t only the cave itself that brought awe to Newt and Jacob’s features, but the grand ship that lay anchored in its wake.

A mighty sailboat with hefty white sails secured to three proud masts gently swayed in the water. Despite being dwarfed in comparison by many of the steamboats procured in the 20th century, the Georgian relic was still quite the sight to see. Its chipping wood had once been painted a radiant royal blue and trimmed with glistening gold, yet both had become dulled over time. Detailed heavenly carvings lined the sides and the stern, but they were no match for the wooden angel carved at the bow. A beautiful feminine angel with a length of black coiled hair and mahogany skin protectively stretched its fading white wings in front of the boat.

“A pirate ship,” Jacob gaped. “It’s a pirate ship!”

Uluras scoffed and shook his head, mumbling something under his breath in a foreign language. “This ain’t no pirate ship, boy,” he said. “Dat there be the fastest ship pan Earth, Zanj Lanmè.”

“The Sea Angel,” Newt translates, his eyes still taking in the ambiance of it all.

The smallest of smirks managed to tug the corner of Uluras’s lips. “What you know about Creole, white boy?”

Newt’s cheeks spotted red. “I did some traveling around the Caribbean a while ago. I spent some time in a village in Haiti and helped them catch a Loogaroo that had been terrorizing their people.”

Uluras pursed his lips and nodded in understanding. “Nasty tings, them Loogaroo are. Even the bokor have trouble ridding them,” he mused. “How a skinny bradda like you was able to subdue one?”

“I was just lucky, I suppose,” said Newt.

Uluras hummed, not completely satisfied with Newt’s answer, but enough to let it go. He turned his attention back to Jacob, who was still processing everything.

“Well, as I was sayin’,” he tells him, “she ain’t no pirate ship. Zanj Lanmè be a ship of liberty. She was once used as a slaver ship and crossed the ocean between West Africa and the West Indies, dat be ‘til a captured slave by the name of Asha discovered that she was a sòsyè.”

“She was a witch?” asked Newt.

“Yes, a powerful one, too. Without realizing it, she called pan a great storm. The traders were left to fight against the wind and sea on deck while the slaves stayed below. Asha’s storm was too great for any pouvwafèb to survive. They were all taken by the sea, and when the storm was over, the slaves realized what had happened. They were freed. Asha used her newfound power to break their shackles and enchanted the ship to glide through water with ease an’ to withstand any storm. Zanj Lanmè be the ship of my ancestors.”

“Wow,” was all Jacob could muster to say amidst his amazement.

“That’s incredible,” Newt added.

“Yes, she is.” Uluras smiled proudly and walked towards the ship. Newt and Jacob followed him to the edge of the pool. With a slow wave of his hand, a stream of water rose from the pool, splishing and splashing wildly as it began to form a sort of bridge between them and the boat. Just as fast as it had appeared, it crystalized in front of them, stabilizing it enough to support their weight. Without a smidgen of hesitation, Uluras stepped on the bridge and walked up to the ship.

“Zanj Lanmè will take you wherever you need to be. You should be thanking her, you are the first white men to board her in a century,” Uluras yelled back to them.

Newt stopped on the bridge and turned to the angel at the bow. He respectfully lowered his head as a small thank you and continued up the ramp.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Jacob quickly bowed to the angel as he passed.

Just as Jacob stepped on deck, another low rumbling vibrated the grotto. The three men whipped their heads to the tunnel entrance and saw the wall parting again. With a large sack in tow, Niris emerged from the passage and rushed to the ship, much to Uluras’s surprise.  

“Niris, what are you doing here?” He questioned.

“I am coming with you, baaba,” said Niris as he made his way up the bridge.

“No, you are staying here!”

“And do what? Sit and wait for you to come home? Besides, you need my help, Baaba. You can’t man Zanj Lanmè on your own.”

Uluras sighed, mumbling something in Creole before placing his hands on his hips. “You’re just like your Mudda: thick-headed,” he demurred, though he increasingly became convinced. “Hurry up and gadda supplies below deck,” he finally conceded.

Niris smiled widely with his teeth, rushed on deck, and thanked his father with a big hug before disappearing below.

“Mr. Kowalski.” Uluras turned to face the shorter man.

“Aye, Captain?”

“Would yuh mind helping mi boy while I talk tuh yuh friend here?”

Jacob looked at Newt beside him, who gave him a nod to go on without him. “No, not at all,” said Jacob. “I’ll get right on that.”

Jacob lackadaisically headed in the same direction Niris had since disappeared to. Uluras walked in the opposite direction, towards what Newt recognized as the captain’s cabin. He opened the painted red door and held it for Newt to walk in after him.

The cabin was impressive, to say the least; a genuine French antique of the late seventeen hundreds. It was as long as it was wide, made of dark wood panels and decorated with miscellaneous objects such as maps, tapestries, and paintings. A few bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick unknown books and some geographical tools. The farthest wall was covered edge to edge with five long, glass-arched windows, leaking streams of light into the otherwise dim cabin. To the left was a posh canopy bed a few feet from a large cluttered desk bolted to the center of the floor.

Uluras let the door close and walked towards the desk. As he passed, the lanterns hanging from the ceiling and the candles sitting on the desk lit to illuminate the room around them, creating a warm glow of light.    

“Dumbledore sent yuh to me with the hopes I will take you to Italy,” he spoke. “Normally I wouldn’t be bodda’d to take anyone anywhere in this here ship, but it appears I don’t have a choice.” Uluras crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk as he inspected Newt. “I get the feeling you are an honorable man, Mr. Scamander. Odda'wise, you wouldn’t be chasing demons ‘cross the world. Demons such as Gellert Grindelwald.”

“Dumbledore told you,” Newt deduced.

“Even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t need him to tell me a war is brewing. Everyone knows about Grindelwald and his blind followers. And everyone knows about you. You managed to fight against him twice, most recently in France. No doubt you will be facing him again.” Uluras let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you are brave, stupid, or both. Maybe I am stupid for agreeing to help. Noting good comes to those lookin' for trouble.”

“Sometimes, it feels more like trouble is looking for me,” said Newt.

Uluras leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing him sharply. “Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?” He asked. 

“Dumbledore is not known to be very direct.”

“And still you trust him? Still, you take up arms in his name?”

“Dumbledore put his trust in me,” Newt said simply. 

Ulurus pursed his lips and looked him over. Newt tried to read what he was thinking on his face, but only got a sense of undecidedness.  “Why don’t you go find your friend and my son,” said Uluras. “He should be able to show you to your quarters while I prepare us to sail.” Newt nodded and headed out the door, leaving Uluras behind in the cabin to find Jacob.

The floorboards wheezed and sank under Newt’s weight as he carefully stepped down the stairs and into the hatch. The hull of the ship was dark and cluttered with crates and other various items. He could hear the hushed voices of Jacob and Niris and followed the sound farther back into the ship. He wove himself through the maze of boxes until he came upon a door left ajar, a flickering orange glow emitting from the opening. He pushed the door open to find Jacob helping Niris hang a large scrap of jute to fashion a hammock.

“Mr. Scamander!” Niris smiled upon seeing him. Newt gave him a small nod as a greeting.

Jacob turned around to face Newt. “Niris was just telling me about that fancy wizard’s school you and Queenie was talking about. Hogwarts, I think?”

“You attend Hogwarts?” Newt asked Niris.

“This coming year will be my last,” said Niris as he tightened a knot around a beam.

“What’s your house?”

“Gryffindor,” he says proudly. “What was yours?”

“Hufflepuff,” Newt simpers.

“My girl’s a Hufflepuff,” Niris mentioned excitedly. “She’s great! She makes the best pumpkin patsies.”  

Newt nervously shifted to Jacob. He thought the mention of Niris’s girlfriend would bring up memories of Queenie and sour his mood. But Jacob’s smile barely faltered.

“Your girl cooks?” Jacob asks. “My girl likes to cook too.”

“No way!” Jacob and Niris continued to talk about their common interest while Newt went to make his place in the room’s corner. He was fashioning himself a makeshift bed when Niris called for his attention again.

“What about you, Mr. Scamander? Do you have someone special as well?”

Newt blushed. Only one person came to mind. Newt admits that he had grown very fond of the older Goldstein sister. She was beautiful. Not like Queenie in the sense that she was very obviously an attractive woman, but in a simpler sense. It was the little things Newt found so attractive about Tina Goldstein. He liked her short brown hair. He liked that she was tall and that she wore heels. He liked her swan-like neck and her smile. He also liked the line that formed in the middle of her forehead when she was scolding him. Most importantly, he liked her eyes. She had large dark brown eyes, so dark they almost appeared black in certain light, like a salamander’s.

He’d told her that the last time they’d seen each other. It seemed so long ago now. She hadn’t talked to him since. He didn’t blame her, of course. She’d lost a sister. And there is no doubt the MACUSA have had her working extensively since her promotion, so he understood why she had returned none of his letters. Still, he couldn’t help the pang in his heart whenever he thought of her.

“No, not really,” Newt finally answered, ignoring Jacob’s stare.

It was relatively quiet after that. Any other conversation was engaged between Niris and Jacob. When they each formed their own makeshift sleeping spaces, they returned to the deck. Uluras was there, hauling a crate of bread. Floating behind him were several other crates of food.

“Come an’ help me put these downstairs,” he called to nobody in particular.

Niris rushed to his father’s side and took the crate of bread in his hands. He made his way back down the stairs, the other crates of food following him. Jacob dodged a floating crate of fish, scrunching his nose when the smell hit his nostrils. They followed Uluras to the center of the ship. He lifted his arms in the air and flicked his hand downwards. The white sails unfurled on their own and tightened perfectly. The sudden action caused a strong gust of wind to blow down on them. He then brought his hands down to his hips and turned them in circular clockwise motions.  

Jacob and Newt watched closely as he did this. His eyes were focused, and it seemed like the simple action was taking a lot of strength.

“What’s he doing?” Jacob whispered.

“Magic,” said Newt.

“Doesn’t he need a wand to do that?”

“There is such a thing as wandless magic, though it is hard to master. Wandless magic is common in certain areas such as Africa,” Newt explains. “Native Americans also perfected wandless magic and didn’t use wands until the colonization era.”

“Can you do that?” Jacob pointed to Uluras.

“I tried to learn awhile ago during my trip to Sudan, but I never had the talent for it.”

The ship trembled beneath their feet. Moving in unison with Uluras’s clockwise gestures, the ship rocked and swayed, gradually turning in the turquoise pool. It rotated ninety degrees until the bow faced the gaping cavern tunnel that led out to sea. Uluras raised his hands over his head, and a howling gust of wind swept the sails. With a powerful jolt, the ship lurched forward, sailing into the underpass.

Niris had returned from the hold and climbed up to the crow’s nest, where he stood proudly with the wind swirling in his hair. Newt followed Uluras to the helm. Jacob stayed on deck, peering his head over the railing into the water.

“How long will it take to get to Italy?” Newt asked.

“Not as long as you would think,” said Uluras. “Zanj Lanmé can take you across the world two times over on Christmas Day an’ have you back where you started on New Year’s Eve.”

It wasn’t clear whether it was an exaggeration or fact, but Newt would soon find out. The ship cruised through the dark, overarching passage. In the distance, a speck of light continued to grow as they ventured on. The closer they got to the speck of light, Newt could hear the distinct sound of rushing water.

Ahead, the overhang of a rushing waterfall separated them from the open sea. Jacob, still leaning over the ship’s edge, caught sight of the pouring torrent drawing near and backed from the railing.  

“Uh, Newt?” His voice tremors.

“Baaba, let me do it!” Niris looked from the crow’s nest down to the three men.

Uluras craned his neck up to his son. “Aye!”

From where they stood on deck, they could just make out Niris pulling a ten-inch wand from his jacket pocket. The fall came closer, the stream of water that carried them closer to the edge. Jacob inched to Newt’s side and braced himself with a stray hanging rope.

“You ought tuh do di same, Mr. Scamander,” Uluras suggested as he gripped two pegs of the ship’s wheel.

Newt heeded his warning, grabbing hold of the same rope Jacob clasped tightly. Golden light shone over them as they approached the opening at an unrelenting speed. The gaping exit framed the rising sun and sky, making it clear just how far the waterfall plunged.

“What’s he gonna do?” Jacob pondered, his eyes anxiously jumping between Niris and the overhang.

They all watched as the front of the ship tipped dangerously. Gravity pulled the wooden mass downward. The stream that once carried them disappeared from under the ship and fell into the sea. It was a steep drop, having them dive eight hundred feet towards the ground. Jacob screamed as the ship plummeted towards the ocean. Wind whipped around the vessel, lashing at the sails and howling in their ears. Jacob’s and Newt’s feet slid from under them. They both quickly wrapped their wrists around the steady rope to keep themselves from falling.

Beside them, Uluras was steady, his feet planted on the wood floor and hands locked around the wheel’s pegs. Atop the crow’s nest, Niris wrapped his arm around the protruding pole. He raised his wand and swung his arm upwards in a U-shape motion. Water from the waterfall swept under the ship’s hull and around the sides. The water’s force pushed the ship forward and straightened it back into its horizontal position just before they collided with the sea.

They splashed into the ocean, spraying onto the ship and dousing them in seawater. The ship swayed and rocked until it finally settled to its resting state. The fall had displaced Jacob, who lost his grip and fell to the floor, now soaking wet. Newt remained steady on his feet and blinked the stinging water from his eyes. He whipped his neck back to see that they had fallen from a hole on the side of the cliff the crooked shack rested on. A hearty laugh came from beside him, where Uluras stood with a wide grin on his face. Niris hastily climbed down the mast, jumping on deck.

“Everyone alright?” He asked.

Newt nodded. He turned to his friend to find that he was no longer by his side. The poor man had half his body hanging over the ship’s railing, heaving his breakfast into the water. Newt smirked. Perhaps Jacob had seasickness too.

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Uluras was a genuinely kind person, interesting too. He may have initially come off as stand-offish, but in many ways, he reminded Newt of Dumbledore. They shared the same cryptic humor and wise aura.

“How do you know Dumbledore?” Newt asked while he was helping Uluras rig the sails. The early evening chill was nothing compared to the constant spray of cold seawater that dampened their skin and clothes and the steady wind that glided them across the sea.

Uluras hoisted a small triangular sail up a short mast. “I met him twenty years ago in Paris,” he said. “Him and his mentor, Nicolas Flamel. I had recently immigrated to France from Haiti with my wife. Shortly after our arrival, my wife caught a nasty illness. I was sure she’d die.”

Uluras motioned for Newt to help him bound the rope around a peg. Newt rushed to his side, grasping the rope to aide him.

“I was seeking healers all over Paris,” Uluras heaved as they pulled. “But none of them knew how to help mon ange. I had almost given up hope when I came across skinny Albus Dumbledore. He led me to Flamel, who could procure a potion to save my wife. I was able to spend fifteen more years with her because of their kindness. Since then, Albus has remained one of my dearest friends.”

Apparently, Dumbledore and Uluras were so close that he was Niris’s godfather. It became increasingly obvious the boy differed significantly from his father. While Uluras was more mild-tempered and quiet, Niris was everything a seventeen-year-old should be: wild and full of life. He was the main entertainer on the boring ship, telling silly stories and cracking jokes. He and Jacob got along well, both sharing a similar taste in hobbies.

The day was long and uneventful. The sea was calm, and the skies were clear. Now it was dusk, and the sky was painted with strokes of pinks, reds, purples, and oranges. Jacob and Niris were below in the galley, preparing food for everyone. The two shared a bond over food, and Niris promised to teach Jacob how to make fish patties.

Uluras kept busy in his cabin navigating, Newt suspected. Meanwhile, he was left alone. He didn’t mind it. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with. Besides, it gave him plenty of time to think. Newt leaned against the railing of the ship, his back pressed against the wood with legs crossed. Dumbledore is sending him to Italy, but for what, he did not know. Many witches and wizards across Europe have either been recruited by the Alliance or have been prosecuted by the Ministry. Those who haven’t were in hiding, making themselves scarce from both Grindelwald’s acolytes and the dementors. Most of the wizarding world was in a state of purgatory in which wizards took neither side. The Ministry’s relentless hunt for traitors didn’t gain the support it might have hoped. Newt supposed Dumbledore hoped that he could somehow raise morale to those who have lost the will to fight.

But how the hell could he do that?

‘It could only be you.’ Dumbledore had told him. Why did it have to be him? What about him was so imperative to his means? Newt rubbed the sides of his temple with his right hand. He couldn’t help but remember the daunting look on Uluras’s face when they last talked. Newt had the sense he knew more of the situation than he was at liberty to divulge, the nature of which held an ominous foreboding beyond a simple campaign. He thought perhaps he should have pressed the matter. But in the deep recesses of his mind, he doubted it would make a difference. 

Moments like these proved his brother right, though he would sooner die than admit it. ‘Reckless, selfish, irresponsible.’ Such words knocked around in the back of his skull. Venturing blindly and willingly into espionage on Dumbledore’s behalf to satiate his monotony and distract from his grief-stricken realities: ‘Reckless, selfish, irresponsible.’ Involving his muggle friend with the promise of reuniting with his lover, a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep: ‘ Reckless, selfish, irresponsible.’ The weight of it all was not lost on him. Only he let it rest on his shoulders, subconciously waiting for the day it might crush him. 

Jacob suddenly appeared from the hatch wearing a messy white apron, pulling Newt from his thoughts. “Is everything okay, buddy?” He asked as he emerged from the hole and walked to his side. Newt lifted his head from his hand. “Yes, just a bit tired is all.”

“You sure? You look like you’re deep in thought about something.”

“Promise.” Newt smiled softly to reassure him. “How’s your stomach?” He asked, changing the subject. Jacob straightened his back, placing a hand on his round belly. “Oh, it’s fine now,” he said, chuckling. “Thank you, by the way, for the... uh... the—”

“Mugwort,” Newt reminded him. 

“Yeah, the mugwort. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

A small silence befell them. Jacob looked at Newt closely, who had his eyes set on the horizon. He cleared his throat and hesitated. “Listen, Newt, about Tina—”

“Tina?” Newt turned his head to face Jacob. 

“Yeah.” Jacob sighed through his nose and shifted timidly, turning to face the setting sun. “I ain’t been a very good friend to you, Newt. I was so stuck in my own way, I didn’t even think to ask how you felt after everything. About things between you and Tina... ”

“I feel fine,” Newt said quickly.

Jacob wasn’t convinced and eyed him warily. “Yeah, alright,” he relented, deciding not to probe him any further. “Well, if you ever want to talk bout—well, about anything—just let me know, okay?”

“I’ll do that, Jacob.”

He shook Newt’s shoulder softly before walking back toward the hatch. “Food’s ready if you’re hungry,” he informed him. “I gotta hand it to the kid, he’s one mean cook. The fish patties are really good. Of course, they’re better now because I taught him the best way to make the dough.”

He descended the steps, leaving Newt alone above deck. Newt stayed watching the sunset for a moment longer. The sky faded to a dull blue as the sun gave the illusion of dipping into the ocean. When the increasing cold of the night became too much for his thin shirt and trousers, he too left the deck and walked down the hatch to join Niris and Jacob for a helping of fish patties.

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At night, the ship rocked restlessly. Jacob had no trouble sleeping in his hammock. He snored peacefully, swinging between two poles with one of his arms dangling to the floor. Niris was sound asleep as well in his setup. It was Newt who was restless. He had a terrible case of insomnia. It wasn’t the ships stirring or Jacob’s snoring that kept him up, but his mind. 

Newt, having failed to drift off to sleep for the fourth time that night, rolled from the makeshift bed he had made himself and opened his suitcase. He quietly stepped inside, climbed down the ladder, and closed the case behind him. The room Newt fashioned himself in the case was a simple shed. Inside was a small cot pushed against a wall, a workbench wedged in the corner between a door and a window, a lounge chair, two bookshelves, and various plants and trinkets that hung from the ceiling and walls. 

Outside the shed were remnants of enclosures he made for the beasts he rehabilitates. All the creatures that once filled them now resided in the basement of his apartment under his assistant’s care. Well, almost all of them.

Newt crouched down to swiftly snatch a baby niffler from the ground. “You’re a relentless lot, aren’t you?” The pesky creature was clinging to a silver spoon two times its size. 

Newt caught its other pesky siblings that infested his shed pickpocketing shiny objects from his desk and drawers. With all the funny creatures in hand, he opened the door and walked down a dirt path to a small section made up of grass and a singular dirt wall. Carved in it was a burrow glittering with silky fabrics, gold, jewels, and other shiny things that had been stuffed inside. Sleeping soundly in the burrowed hole was the father of the troublesome kits. 

“Some babysitter you are,” he mumbled begrudgingly. 

Surrounding the giant hole reserved for his adult niffler were four smaller holes reserved for each of the babies. One by one, he placed each of the kits in their respective burrows, keeping them tame by gifting them each one knut to suckle in their sleep. Newt left the nifflers and returned to his shed. Waiting for him on his cot was none other than his loyal bowtruckle, Pickett. The twiggy creature crawled up to the edge of the bed as Newt neared, trilling excitedly. 

“You were meant to stay with Bunty and the others, Pick,” Newt scolded half-heartedly as he lowered his hand for the little thing to climb onto. Pickett squeaked his case, somehow explaining to the wizard why him being there was perfectly reasonable. Newt smiled and took a seat on the bed. 

“In any case, I’m glad you’re here, Pick,” he confesses.

This seemed to please the leafy bug, and he trilled lowly, crawling up Newt’s arm to nuzzle his cheek. Suddenly, feeling very tired, Newt laid on his cot facing the ceiling. Pickett jumped from Newt’s shoulder and sat next to his head on the pillow. Newt stared at the dangling trinkets hanging from the ceiling, thinking deeply as his eyes grew heavy and his vision blurred. The last thoughts that crossed his mind before successfully drifting to sleep were Theseus’s words. 

Reckless. Selfish. Irresponsible.

Chapter Text

Newt was no stranger to the sea. He had spent years aboard ships, exploring the world, and from it, he found the ocean more fascinating than anything else on Earth. It was a vast expansion of salty water that covered seventy percent of the Earth and was home to more than half of its creatures—most of which have yet to be discovered, a feat that both challenged and excited him. While most feared the ocean, he embraced it. He wished that Jacob felt the same. 

Jacob had a hard time adjusting to life at sea. While Newt kept his friend’s seasickness at bay, his preexisting fears still lingered. Jacob was no help when it came to sailing. He was far too clumsy and anxious to work under Uluras’s command. His talents lay elsewhere, elsewhere being the ship’s kitchen. Jacob spent most of his time down there, cooking and baking meals and treats for everyone. He wasn’t doing much cooking back in London, so Newt suspected it was therapeutic for him in more ways than one. Either way, he was glad to see Jacob active and committed. 

They sailed smoothly for three days. During those days, Uluras took a liking to Newt, effectively taking him under his wing. They often shared stories, Newt telling of his adventures around the world, and Uluras proudly spoke of tales from his mother country. There were times when Newt would get him to talk about Dumbledore and their misadventures when they were both young men. Even now, on what Uluras revealed to be their last night aboard the ship, they all sat on deck eating the supper Jacob and Niris prepared, sharing entertaining stories of how they spent their time in school. Newt stayed quiet for the most part, content with listening to Uluras’s tall tales and Niris’s troublemaking.

Under the night sky, the sea glittered and shined. It was calm; the water gently lapped at the sides of the ship, and, if you listened closely, you could hear the fin whales singing in the distance. It was a peaceful night, the most peaceful night they had while on board. Newt sat in comfortable silence as the others laughed heartily at a story Niris had concluded telling. They finished their meals and turned to drink, a sweet rice wine to fill their stomachs. Newt disliked the alcoholic drink, as he did all alcoholic drinks, but he still sipped the contents of his mug every so often to blend in. 

It wasn’t long before everyone grew tired. They had a long day ahead of them and would need all the sleep they could get. Niris was the first to retire to his nook. Jacob followed soon after, taking the mugs and plates back into the kitchen, claiming he would deal with them in the morning. Truthfully, Newt was rather exhausted himself. He could feel the weight of his tiredness pulling at his eyelids, but the ticking ambush of questions that relentlessly swelled in the back of his head kept him restless. Uluras had moved to the forecastle. His hand still clutched around a mug of wine as he stared up at the sky, sipping peacefully. Newt was unsure if he should disturb him. 

“Yuh just gonna stand there watchin’ mi, or yuh gonna speak what’s pan yuh mind?” Uluras spoke with his back still turned. 

Newt straightened his posture, flustered. He climbed up the steps and onto the deck to stand at Uluras’s side. The wind moaned lowly around them. Uluras kept his gaze forward, barely acknowledging Newt’s presence. Newt, feeling displaced, did the same. He looked at the night horizon, watching the bow of the ship cut through the waves with ease. “I was thinking about tomorrow,” Newt confessed after a brief silence. “I’m still unsure of what exactly I am to do when we reach Italy. It’s not as if Dumbledore gave me instructions.” Uluras huffed through his nose. “No need for instructions. What yuh need is a name,” he said. Newt furrowed his brows. “A name?” Uluras turned towards Newt. “In the mornin’, ‘round noon, we will dock in Naples. There yuh must find a woman named Reinette.”

“Reinette?” Newt repeated. “Who’s Reinette?” 

“She is a talented witch with the gift of seeing. Her gift has given her the advantage of knowin’ many things. When yuh get there, yuh must find her.”

“How do you suppose I do that?”

“It’s been a while, but I’m sure she hasn’t left. When I knew her well she worked in a pub. What was it called?” Uluras pursed his lips in thought, snapping his fingers as he muttered different names. “La Belladonna? No. It was Il Basalisc, I think... or maybe it was... It was somethin’ with a B.” Shaking his head, the older man sucked his teeth and sighed. “Just ask around for Reinette. I’m sure a local will be able to point yuh in the right direction. It's not like she keeps a low profile.” He rolled his eyes, turning around to walk back down the stairs.  Newt wasn’t sure he understood what Uluras meant by that, but he took the new information gladly. It was better than nothing. 

“You should rest, Scamander.” Newt turned on his heels to look down at Uluras on the deck. “This ting that Dumbledore’s got yuh wrapped up in...It all starts there. An’ yuh’ll be needing all the rest you can get.” Newt nodded in an unconfident manner. Uluras, having drunken himself into lethargy, disappeared into his quarters for the night, leaving Newt alone on deck. He didn’t get much sleep that night.

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Newt lay on his cot inside his case, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought, when Jacob descended the ladder. He jumped from the ladder a few feet from the floor, landing with a thud, and turned to his friend. “Did you sleep in here?” Jacob asked. Newt shook his head. Jacob sighed, looking around the shack. His eyes caught sight of a strange creature similar to a hummingbird in the way its wings flapped incessantly, though it was double the size and had a long beak that curled into itself. It stared back at him through the window above Newt’s cot and flew away quickly after. 

“I didn’t know you brought all your animals with you.”

Newt sat up in his bed. “I didn’t. Well, not all of them. Just the ones that needed my attention. Bunty’s caring for the rest back home,” said Newt. Jacob nodded, dropping the subject. “Uluras told me to come get ya. Yeah, he says that we’ll be docking soon.” Newt's eyes widened. “Is it noon already?”

“Fifteen minutes after,” Jacob told him. “Sorry I didn't come to get you sooner, but I was late waking up myself. That wine can really put you out.” He chuckled as he rubbed his aching belly. Newt stood to his feet and walked to his work station. He pulled a small black box from a drawer and opened it. Inside was an assortment of small potion bottles. Some were filled with liquid, others with herbs, and one with something that moved. Jacob scrunched his nose in disgust. 

Newt picked up a couple of bottles, carefully reading the labels before finding the one he was searching for. He held it in his hand as he placed the lid back onto the box and stuffed it back into the drawer. He walked back to Jacob and held out the bottle filled with an herb that looked like plant roots. “Chew on these. They’ll help your stomach settle.” Jacob took the bottle kindly and without question. “Thanks.”

Newt flashed him a small smile before brushing past to climb up the ladder. Stepping from his case, Newt helped his friend by taking his hand and pulling him out. The two men quickly packed their things, ensuring everything was in order before ascending to the deck. 

The sun hung high in the air. The call of seagulls accompanied the musicality of wind rippling the sails and waves crashing into the ship. The pesky birds circled the masts in hopes of finding food, or perhaps they just wanted someplace to rest their wings. Either way, their presence was welcomed, for it meant that land was near. 

Newt and Jacob made their way to the ship’s railing. They looked ahead to see the evidence: the costal city of Naples flaunting its beautiful landscape. Jacob smiled, openly expressing his excitement. Wether he was excited to venture to a new land or because he was finally getting off the boat was unclear. Maybe it was a bit of both. When the ship finally docked, Jacob was the first to step off after giving goodbyes to Niris and Uluras. 

The dock was lively with passersby. It was a trading dock meant for the import of magical goods. It was tucked away and hidden by enchantments to mask its presence on the shoreline of an abandoned beach. On the harbor, sellers peddled their goods, high in stock of all the magical goods not native to Italy.

Uluras and Niris stood at the opening to the gangway. Newt, with his head bowed, reached in his coat pocket for the pouch Dumbledore had given him, handing it to the old man. Uluras saw the gold flashing in the pouch and placed his hand over it, pushing it back into Newt’s chest. “Keep your money, Mr. Scamander,” he said. “You’ll be needing it where you’re headed.” Newt nodded. He thanked Uluras and Niris for their kindness and guidance. The young wizard descended down the gangway, joining his friend's side as he assessed his foreign surroundings.  Jacob placed a hand on Newt’s shoulder. “You know what you’re doing?” Newt’s eyes flew up to Uluras, who gave him an encouraging nod. “In a way.”

Jacob turned to look back up at the ship that was already sailing back out to sea. He waved goodbye to the two men onboard. Niris waved his cap down at them and wished them luck on their journey. “Don’t forget to thank Zanj Lanmè!” Uluras yelled. 

The two men waved to the angel carved onto the ship, yelling their thanks. To Newt's amusement and Jacob’s amazement, the wooden angel animated, giving them a soft smile as it waved back. His mouth fell agape as he watched the ship leave. Newt turned from the sea and pushed on, leaving behind a stunned Jacob. “Did you see that?” He asked as he rushed to catch up. 

The harbor reminded Newt of Diagon Alley, though it was considerably smaller. Besides the docks and the street peddlers, there were shops, inns, and a lone pub. Alas, it was not the pub he hoped. Its name did not start with a B, nor did it have a B in it at all. Hanging above the entrance was a metal plaque that read L'amante in bronze lettering underneath an etching of a couple kissing passionately. 

“Want to grab a drink?” Jacob asked upon noticing Newt's gaze set upon the building. 

Newt had no interest in going inside. He wanted to find Reinette as soon as possible. He remembered Uluras’s advice from the night before to ask around. This elusive seer had evidently made a name for herself; at least, that is the impression Uluras gave him. Left on foreign terrain, with no other options, he decided that it was the best place to start. The two men veered to the pub, pushing through the salt-damaged doors. 

Upon entering, they were met with lively music and thunderous cheer. Much like Newt’s case, the pub was bigger on the inside, with many open levels that gave the appearance of a tower. Despite its overawing stature, the room was filled with warmth. It was a pleasant contrast to the cold greyscale of London. The first level of the pub was colored in hues of red, orange, and yellow. Gold glimmered in unexpected and opulent places. The dark, wooded floors vibrated in reaction to the crowd of people dancing close to the stage where a live band played swing music. Scattered around the room were tables and booths, many of which were filled. Along the right side of the establishment was a bar that stretched from either side of the room. Jacob noticed it instantly and headed straight in its direction.

He took a seat on a circular stool. He blew raspberries with his lips and drummed his hands on the, frankly, sticky wood surface as he waited for a bartender. He even peeked over the counter just in case this pub was manned by a house-elf like the speakeasy Tina and Queenie had once taken them to. Newt took a seat next to him, placing his case on the floor by his feet. Not long after, a woman came up to them behind the counter. She had thick, curly brown hair braided down her back and dark olive skin. She wore an orange dress complemented by a gold apron. She grabbed a wet rag from a nook behind the counter and began swabbing the counter. 

“Che cosa vuoi?” She asked, though she was not looking at them. The two men stared blankly, unable to understand. In their silence, she gave in and looked straight at them, suddenly irritated by their presence. “What do you want?” She asked again, this time in English. “Water, please,” Newt answered for the both of them, though Jacob seemed a bit displeased by it.

She immediately grabbed two clear glasses, filling them up with ice as a pitcher of water floated in the air to fill them. She handed them their respective glasses. “So you’re Englishmen?” 

“He’s English. I’m American,” said Jacob. “Though my mom’s mom was Italian.” He said as a matter-of-fact and smiled awkwardly in an attempt to make small conversation. The barmaid, however, couldn’t care less. “Welcome to Napoli,” She said dryly. “What brings you here? It must be important for you to come with the travel ban and all.” The two shifted uncomfortably in their seats, like two children who had just been caught in a lie. “Do not worry,” she assured them. “I will not tell. It is not my business to share.”

Jacob relaxed a little and took a sip of his cold water. Newt was still tensed. “Well,” he began, hesitant. “We are looking for someone. I was told she works in a pub like this one. Perhaps you know her?” The woman shrugged. “Maybe I do. Do you have a name?”

“Reinette.”

She shook her head. “Dispiace. I do not recognize the name.” She said simply, and turned away to help another customer. Newt stopped her before she got too far, still hoping she could help in some way. “You don’t suppose you know anyone who might? She is a seer—”

“A seer, you say?” She cut in. Newt nodded. The barmaid looked beyond the two men to a waitress waiting tables on the floor. “Azura!” She called to her. The waitress lifted her head towards the direction of the bar. The bartender waved her over. “Vieni qui per favore.”  The waitress finished serving a couple seated at a table before walking over towards the three of them and standing next to Newt, a bit closer than he’d like. “Che?”

“These men are looking for a seer. You once knew a seer, no? What was her name?” The woman pursed her lips in thought. “Intendi, Reinette?”

“That’s her!” Jacob chimed in. “She said Reinette, right? You said Reinette?”

The waitress, Azura, frowned. “What do you want with Reinette?”

“We were hoping she could tell us that,” said Newt.

She sighed. “If it is a vision you want, she won’t give it to you. She hasn’t seen anyone in years.”

“Still,” Newt insisted. “We must find her. It’s important. Please.”

“Look, whoever sent you led you in the wrong direction. Reinette left for Sicily years ago. That is all I know.”

“Sicily? As in the island? As in an island a hundred miles away from here in the middle of the Mediterranean ocean?” Jacob rubbed the sides of his temple. “That’s just great.” He held his glass up to the barmaid. “I’m gonna need something a little stronger, sweetheart.” She rolled her eyes and reluctantly took his glass.

“Where in Sicily may we ask?” Newt pressed. The waitress thought to herself for a moment.

“Syracuse, I think. I can’t be sure.”

Newt nodded. “Thank you.”

“Prego.” As she left, Jacob downed his newly acquired drink. Newt stood from his seat and shifted around his coat pocket for change and placed it on the counter. Jacob put down his glass. “What, we’re leaving now?” 

“Yes,” said Newt as he lifted his case from the ground and maneuvered his way out of the tavern with Jacob stumbling close behind. “Right now!”

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After the pub, Newt took Jacob from the port into the city. According to Newt, they would have to find another boat that sailed to Sicily. Uluras and the Zanj Lanmè were long gone. They were on their own. 

Italy seemed much livelier than Paris or London in Jacob’s opinion. At least in Naples, the people weren’t afraid of a bit of fun. Jacob followed behind Newt in a distracted stupor, occasionally brushing shoulders with other pedestrians and whirling his head every which way to take in the sights. He tried his best to keep up with Newt’s long strides but was halted by a young street vendor pushing delicious-smelling pastries in his face.  

“Try, you must try! Best pastries in Napoli!” The young teen pedaled. 

Jacob scrunched his nose. “What is it?”

The curly-haired boy gave Jacob an over-friendly smile and spoke excitedly.  “Panzerotti. It’s meat, cheese, an—”

“Yeah, give me that.” Jacob pulled out two coins and traded them with the boy. He took the pastry and continued down the street as the boy thanked him. The young boy looked down at the two American coins. 

“EHI! Non puoi pagare con questo! Figlio di puttana, mi servono gli lire!” 

Jacob ignored the boy's fast-spilling curses and took a pleasing bite out of his treat. He spotted Newt’s distinctive coat in a small crowd surrounding a man pedaling boat tickets. “Oh, Jacob, there you are. What’s that?”

“Panzerotti,” Jacob said with a mouth full of food. He held the wrapped pastry up to Newt. “Wanna bite?”

Newt looked down at the cheesy, meat-filled delight. “No, I don’t think so.” He turned his head towards the man selling tickets, and Jacob shrugged his shoulders.

“Poi ho i biglietti per la Sicilia, tremila lire ciascuno! Tremila lire a testa per la Sicilia!” 

“That’s Sicily. Yes! Yes, here!” Newt pushed through the crowd to the front with Jacob.

“How many?” Asked the ticket pedlar.

Newt held up two fingers. “Two.”

The man held out his hand. “Six thousand lire.”

Newt tensed. Right. Muggle money. Jacob noticed Newt's hesitation. “What, you ain’t got six thousand lire?” 

The peddler ignored Newt’s struggle and yelled over his head, selling more tickets. Newt fished in his coat pocket and found the pouch Dumbledore had given him. It felt lighter than it was originally. He took it out and opened it, smiling when he saw the contents inside. Conveniently, he pulled from it the aforementioned amount and currency. The man looked down and took the bills, counting them for good measure before trading the two tickets. “It leaves tonight at seven, the red steamship.”

Newt nodded and quickly thanked the man before diving back into the crowd. Jacob followed, taking a last bite of his panzerotti, crumpling the wrapping, and tossing it to the side. “So what, we just gonna stand around for seven hours?” Jacob asked Newt as he swallowed. Newt shrugged. He looked around in search of a place to set up and regroup. 

Jacob sighed. “Well, we should get room or something. I’d like to sleep on a bed that doesn’t rock before I get on another ship.”

Newt and Jacob walked side by side on the street in search of an inn. As they walked, a swell of music increasingly crept closer. Not far ahead, a crowd of people dressed in various shades of blue, green, and white gathered in a large square. It was a jovial communion, as celebrants were dancing, drinking, eating, and performing various other festival-like activities. Newt found himself smiling at the children who scampered by holding hand kites, his eyes catching sight of the rag doll tucked tightly under a little girl’s shoulder—a mermaid. Jacob smiled, too. Looking around, they noticed lots of mermaid iconography decorating the square.

They strolled about the square, hoping to immerse themselves in the festivities they unknowingly integrated themselves in. A small crowd gathered off to the side, mostly children, but some adults stood towards the back and sides. The two foreign beholders kept to the background onlooking a puppet theatre. The children sat entranced on the ground as they watched the puppets. It seemed to a be a fairy tale, some version of the little mermaid. The colorful puppets depicted a prince of sorts on a beach meeting with a mermaid. The children seemed to enjoy it, especially the young girls. 

Jacob turned and saw another group gathering on the opposite end of the square. There was a large circular fountain that enclosed a statue of a mermaid perched on a rock facing the sea. People amassed around and threw various things inside it, mainly coins, but also beads, flowers, and jewelry; essentially any small, pretty thing. Newt followed Jacob's eyeline to the overcrowded fountain. Jacob gently stopped a man as he walked by. “Excuse me? You speak English?” Thankfully, the man nodded. “What are they doing over there?

“They are giving offerings for la principessa sirena,” he explained enthusiastically.

“The mermaid princess.” Newt translates for Jacob.

Jacob speered at Newt from the side. “Yeah, I got that,” he said flatly. 

The man smiled. “Sì, signore. Over a hundred years ago, the king of Naples, Joachim Murat, was drunkenly wandering the cliffs when he stumbled and fell into the sea. He nearly drowned but was saved by a mermaid. The king fell in love and continued to visit la sirena for years after. Soon, they produced a child: la principessa sirena.”

Jacob pursed his lips and blew a low whistle. “Lucky guy.”

The guide laughs and shakes his head. “I would not say he is so lucky,” he says. “Eventually, his queen, Napoleon Bonaparte’s little sister, discovered his adultery, and in a jealous rage, she sent for her brother to avenge her, ordering the king’s lover and child to be killed. By the time the king got wind of the assassination, it was too late. His sirena had been murdered on the very shore he had fallen for her.”

“What happened to the kid?” asked Jacob.

“It is said she was lost to the sea,” he shrugs. “However, many years later, long after the king had died, a fisherman was caught in a storm, and he was swallowed by the waves. The storm was so powerful he should have drowned. When he woke up, he was on the shore, unharmed. He returned to his village and told the townspeople he was saved by a beautiful mermaid. He believed her to be the lost princess, King Joachim’s love child. He built the sculpture in honor of her, and every year on the day he was saved, the people of Naples, Ischia, Procida, and Capri will come here with offerings for love and prosperity.”

Jacob scoffed and nudged Newt with his elbow. “Maybe we should make an offering, huh, Newt?” He jokes. Newt flushed slightly; the fleeting image of Tina swept across his mind and tugged at his heartstrings. Jacob thanked the man, and he walked away. The two men walked towards the fountain.

“What did you think of that?” Asked Jacob.

“Of what?”

“Do you think it’s true?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “What the guy said about the mermaids and what not.”

Newt hummed disapprovingly. “Probably not.”

Jacob furrowed his brows, skeptical. “How come?” 

“Well, there are no merpeople in the Gulf of Naples, let alone the Tyrrhenian Sea.”

“So there are mermaids,” Jacob smiled excitedly.

“Yes, there are many different species of merpeople throughout the world. There are even merpeople that exist in the Great Lakes.”

Jacob’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” said Newt.

“Well, why aren't there any here in Naples? Isn’t the Mediterranean, like, the home of mermaids?” Jacob asked as he eyed the supposed mermaid princess. 

“Yes. Naples was once called Partenope, after a siren of Greek mythology. But sirens haven't existed in the Mediterranean for hundreds of years.” New explained.

“What happened to them?”

“It is speculated that they were hunted to extinction.”

“Oh.” Jacob’s shoulders fell slightly. They stood in silence for a moment until Jacob dived into his pocket for two simple coins. He spit on them, much to Newt’s surprise and minor disgust, and shined them with the corner of his vest. He handed one to Newt, who hesitantly took it between his fingers. Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, a wrinkle forming between his brows as the silence between them lingered, then kissed the coin before tossing it into the fountain bowl. 

“I was never a superstitious person. I ain’t never believed in…a higher power or anything before.” Jacob spoke carefully, and Newt could tell that this was something he needed to stay silent for and listen. “My Gran was. Church every Sunday and Wednesday, pray before every meal, before walking out the door, in the morning, and before bed at night. She’d cross her chest if she saw a black cat cross the street, toss salt over her shoulders, hated anything having to do with the number thirteen, and picked up every lucky penny she could find. I thought she was nuts, but y’know, that’s my Gran.”

“Then me and my brother got shipped off to France, and my Grandma snuck rosaries, prayer coins, and a rabbit’s foot— if you can believe it—into our bags. Told us to carry them on us always. Anyway, you think about stuff like that during the war. One day, my brother and I was stuck in a church in France with our group, waiting for reinforcements. We was laying low. We knew they was out there. They knew we was in there. It feels like you’re waiting forever when you’re like that. I was standing by a window that had been poorly boarded up when the light leaking from it cast on the floor. A dirty old franc was sitting heads up on the floor, and it got me thinking of my Gran. ‘She’d pick that up,’ I thought, and it made me smile for the first time in months. So, I bent down and picked it up.” Jacob sighed and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Just as my fingers pick up the coin, a bullet flies right over my head and hits my brother in the chest.”

“Jacob… I’m so sorry.” Newt attempts to comfort his lamenting friend. 

“Yeah, I know.” Jacob puts a thankful hand on Newt’s shoulder. He cleared his throat to keep his voice from cracking. “I lost my brother…But picking up that franc got me home. Got me one last year with my Gran before she passed. Made me chase my dream of opening a bakery. Then I met you, my best friend. I learned about a whole new magical world I couldn’t even dream of. And I met the most beautiful, crazy, talented witch who also happens to be the love of my life. Now she’s gone. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is I need all the luck I can get to get my girl back. So, sometimes I throw a coin in a fountain and hope that something—God, Fate,” he chuckled and lazily gestured to the statue. “Or a mermaid princess—anything—will listen.”

Newt squeezes Jacob’s shoulder. “She will, Jacob.” 

Jacob forced a smile. He gestured to the coin still in Newt’s hand. “You should too. For Tina.”

Tina. Newt’s nervous system went haywire at the very mention of her name. There was a moment when he and Tina finally connected on a deep level, when their hearts perhaps started to beat at the same rhythm after being off-key for so long. But it seems every time they take a step forward, something happens to push them back, whether it’s a misunderstanding, her work as an auror, the estrangement of a sister, or the loss of an old friend…an old love. 

All Newt wanted was to feel right. Nothing felt right, not in his personal life or the world. Maybe if he finally felt a semblance of understanding and peace, he wouldn't be chasing such frivolous ventures to distract from his perpetual offness. ‘Something right,’ he thought, and he tossed the coin into the fountain. Jacob clapped him on the back, solid and reassuring, pulling him from his thoughts, and the two stepped back onto the cobblestone street in search of a place to rest. 

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“Jacob, wake up.”

Jacob jolts awake as Newt gently shakes his shoulder. It was sunset, and the sky had turned into shades of orange and purple. 

“The ship leaves in an hour. We should head there now.” Newt says as he buttons his vest.

Jacob gives a lethargic nod and groan as he sits up in the bed. They’d found a muggle pub that had beds available upstairs. Newt had commented on it being similar to a wizard pub called The Leaky Cauldron in London. The moment Jacob laid on the bed, sleep took over, and his snores filled the room. Newt wasn’t tired, surprisingly, and stayed awake. He minded his case, giving Jacob and himself deserved silence. Newt had managed to do a considerable amount of work in the gap of time. He was worried about the niffler pups. Wily creatures as they were, prone to sickness were they also. The mother had passed after birth, leaving Teddy too depressed to nurture the litter on his own, the poor sod. Newt and Bunty did their best to nurse them with mooncalf milk, but it isn’t filled with the same antibodies the pups would need to build their immune systems fast. One of the pups had caught a nasty infection that Newt had been treating. Anyone else wouldn’t notice by how adamant she was at chasing around after her littermates. Newt made use of his time to treat and care for her and any other creatures he brought with him. Yet, by the time he’d finished, he wished he had at least tried to rest like Jacob suggested.

“Did you get any sleep?” Jacob asked groggily, noticing the dark circles around Newt’s eyes. 

“I’ll sleep on the ship tonight,” Newt assured, though he convinced no one. Sleep hadn’t been his nightly companion for a while, and it was starting to show. Jacob only hummed in response as he put his jacket over his shoulders. The two walked to the port where the red steamship was boarding passengers to Sicily. Getting there and getting on took about an hour, but once on the ship, they found their cabin and waited for the ship to push off. 

Jacob sat on the bed across from Newt. “So this Dumbledore guy is sending you to Sicily to get a palm reading or something?” Jacob asked after a small moment of silence. “A seer can do a lot more than palm reading, Jacob.” Newt chided. “A seer can prophecy the future. Predict fates. Deliver omens.”

“Like we need any more omens,” Jacob muttered bitterly. 

Newt sighed through his nose. “I don’t know why we’re going to Sicily, Jacob,” he admitted. “I don’t know the seer we’re supposed to find, and I don’t know what she will tell us once we get there…if she’s there… Truth is, I don’t know much of anything anymore, Jacob. I haven’t since—”

“I know,” Jacob said softly. 

“But I couldn’t just sit around feeling sorry for myself anymore. Not while Theseus and Tina are off Merlin knows where…not after Leta...” Newt picked at the skin of his fingernails. It’d become a habit of his, and now his fingers were rough and jagged from frayed hang nails, picked raw and often bleeding. Jacob’s sorrowful expression only made Newt feel more microscopic. How frustrating. “Whatever this is about, I’m sure we’ll know soon. Dumbledore loves being cryptic, but it’s not without reason.” He ended simply. 

Jacob nodded, eyeing his friend closely. He opened his mouth to say something, but a second thought closed his mouth for him. “No matter what, I trust you, Newt,” he said instead. “This Grindelwald…He’s got to be stopped. I’m with you.”

Newt looked up from his hands to see Jacob bearing a comforting smile across his face, one he couldn’t help but return. Just then, they heard the ship’s horn blare. The ship jolted forward, and Jacob rocked back into his bed. He screwed his eyes shut and held on to the metal bars of the bed frame. “Oh, God. Newt, you got anymore of that seasickness potion stuff?” Newt let out a humorous chuff and nodded. He placed his suitcase on the floor between them, opened it, and stepped inside to retrieve the potion for Jacob. 

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Newt sat on the grass of the kelpie enclosure, watching as the magnificent creature swam about freely. A few of the niffler pups were sleeping soundly in his lap. He stroked their fur absentmindedly while deep in thought. He thought mostly about how he’d get to Syracuse. The ship most likely wouldn’t take them directly there and would instead stop on the opposite side of the island. The travel ban made things rather difficult in times like this. It was mildly hilarious that the Ministry lifted his travel ban after his assist in Paris, only for the International Confederation to implement one on the entire wizarding world. 

Of course, he understood why. It would ultimately help single out Grindelwald and his acolytes, as they were sure to not stay put in one area for long. Any unauthorized travel would immediately be flagged by aurors to investigate. But Dumbledore, often not in alignment with the wishes of those in power, had his agendas and operations to conduct that would not be executed by the Ministry even if he asked. So, naturally, everything Newt was doing was unsanctioned and, therefore, illegal. Drawing any attention to himself will endanger the mission. There is no doubt the Ministry already knows he’s no longer in England. ‘Theseus definitely knows by now,’ he thought. 

Whenever Theseus got drunk, he’d come by the flat, overly affectionate and smelling of fire whiskey. Newt would make him something to eat while Theseus talked about things he didn’t care about until he finally divulged the latest inner workings of the Ministry and the investigation with Grindelwald. Then he’d get sad about Leta and cry, eventually passing out on his couch. He was happy to be there for his brother the first few times he stumbled up his stoop, but after a while, it just got embarrassingly sad, and it didn’t help with his own melancholy.  Theseus probably tried to visit not long after he and Jacob had already left. Bunty most likely answered the door and gave him the latest update without divulging his whereabouts. Theseus would be upset to be sure, but his loyalty and trust in Dumbledore will keep him and the Ministry out of it until need be. Best not give them a reason to, though.

They could easily track him down if he used certain magic transportation such as apparition; he was, unfortunately, a wizard of interest, thusly under persistent watch. However, he couldn’t apparate to Syracuse even if he wanted to, as he’d never been before. Besides, even if he had, he’d never apparated such a significant distance, and with Jacob in tow, so much could go wrong. He’d hate to be the reason Jacob got splinched or worse. The best way would be through the floo network. It’s hard to track individuals through it. Finding it would be the hardest part. He wasn’t familiar with the network outside of Britain, but if he could find a wizard town, he could find the floo network. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. Jacob hadn’t used the floo network before. It’d be fun to watch him try it for the first time. 

Rising to his feet, he carefully collected the sleeping niffler pups in his hand and walked them to their den. Teddy was there, lazing about in his hole as he often did since his mate passed. He placed the pups in their respective holes and gave Teddy a soft pet on his back. He knew all too well how he felt. 

He walked back to the shed to sit on his cot. His eyes were heavy from their lack of rest, prominent bags hung underneath his brilliant hazel orbs. He laid on his back, fluffing and tucking the pillow under his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while, still unable to settle his brain. If his mind settled for even a moment, granting him momentary peace, some thought or image would shock his nervous system awake. He tossed and turned, eventually landing on his side facing his workbench. His eyes drifted up to the pictures framed on its surface. One picture was of Tina, a picture she had sent him almost a year ago. She looked brilliant. She had her hair parted to the side and curled. She smiled sweetly, her image swayed awkwardly from side to side, giggling at her own shyness. It’d been a while since he’d sent a letter to her, not that he expected an answer anymore. Partially his fault, he knew. He wasn’t the most engaging pen pal, not lately. 

But beyond his faults, he knew her focus was on the rescue of her sister. He wanted to write. Merlin, did he want to tell her so much, but every time he tried to put quill to paper, he was left with ink blots. His eyes drifted to the picture hanging above Tina’s on the wall. Leta. Newt’s heart ached at her image. Every time he looked at it, he was transported back to the night she died. The tears in her eyes, the scared look on her delicate face, the last words she spoke…

A sudden jolt shook Newt from his thoughts. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the light fixture above him swayed. Newt furrowed his brows. A loud, heavy, crashing sound came from outside the case, and Newt sat up in his cot. An earthquake-like rumble shook the case, sending the beasts inside into a frenzy. Newt’s head whipped around to the workbench as vials, books, and tools started crashing onto the ground. He jumped from his cot to catch Tina’s picture before it fell, only to hear the sound of shattering glass as Leta’s picture slipped from the wall. Newt didn’t have time to bend down to retrieve the photo before the hatch of his case swung open. 

“NEWT!” Jacob sounded frantic and terrified. “NEWT, WE GOT A PROBLEM. GET UP HERE!”

Newt quickly dressed and tucked Tina’s picture frame into his coat pocket. He climbed up the ladder with haste and took Jacob's outstretched hand once he reached the top. Jacob pulled him out of the case and held him by his sleeves. The ship was rocking dangerously. Outside their cabin, an attendant was yelling for passengers to stay calm. A clap of thunder sounded after a near blinding flash of lightning filled the cabin. Rain poured and smacked heavily against the ship's metal, creating a consistent drumming. The ship was smack in the middle of a raging storm, and while the muggle crew tried to keep things calm and orderly, assuring the passengers that everything would be fine, Jacob and Newt knew better because they both could tell it was no ordinary storm. Newt looked out the porthole to see rough seas and black skies. Another flash of lightning and Newt could see the swirling pattern of a magic-made storm in the rolling clouds. 

“I was resting, and the storm came out of nowhere,” said Jacob. “One minute calm seas, the next I’m hearin’ buckets of rain and thunder—the ship rocked so hard I fell out of the bed!”

Newt quickly packed up his case and opened the cabin door, jumping back when an attendant rushed by him in a panic. The young man looked over his shoulder at Newt. “Please, remain in your cabin! Everything is fine!” He ordered, though he was less than convincing. He didn't check to ensure Newt went back inside before running off and disappearing around the corner. Wand in hand, Newt started in the opposite direction, towards the front of the ship. Jacob followed close behind, nearly tripping up the steps attempting to follow Newt’s gazelle-like strides. 

The two men could barely keep their eyes open once on deck. The wind howled like a banshee in their ears. Their clothes were drenched within seconds, and the barren deck floors were practically flooded with water. “WHAT IS THIS NEWT?” Jacob yelled over the sound of puffing wind and rain. Newt looked around, searching as best he could through squinted eyes for the source of the storm. “IT’S GRINDELWALD!” Newt shouted. “SOMETHING MUST’VE HAPPENED. HE KNOWS WE’RE HERE, HE’S SENT THEM TO STOP US!”

“WHO?”

One by one, members of The Alliance apparated onto the deck, surrounding them. 

“Them…” said Newt darkly.

“A bit far from home, no, Mr. Scamander?” One of the acolytes taunted. Newt recognized him from Paris.

“Give us the case, and we’ll be on our way!” A dark witch laughed.

Newt clutched his case tightly and hid it behind his legs, protectively raising his wand. His case? Why on Earth would they want his case? “The relic is all we want. Give it to us, and we’ll leave you and your muggle pet alone.” Jacob glared at the wizard who bestowed the offensive moniker. Newt furrowed his brows but kept his mouth shut. 

“HEY!”

Several heads turn to look at one of the crewmen perched behind the bannister of the second level. He peered down at them and flailed his arms about. “CHE DIAVOLO STAI FACENDO? GET BACK INSIDE!”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” 

A green beam shot from one of the acolyte’s wand and struck the crewman in the chest. His body fell limp instantly, robbed of life. His limp form fell over the railing and onto the lower deck floor with a horrendous thud. His limbs sprawled out like a rag doll. Jacob yelled in horror as he stared at the corpse only a few feet away from him. Newt retaliated, casting a disarming spell and sending the dark wizard’s wand flying. Probably not the best idea. 

A flurry of light from cast spells bombarded Newt, who protected himself and Jacob with a shield. As Newt blocked dark spells, a wizard apparated between him and Jacob, taking a bold dive for his case. Newt evaded them and took a page out of Jacob’s defensive tactics; he swung the heavy leather case high enough to strike it across their face. The pilferer fell to the floor hard with a splash. Newt took Jacob’s hand and pulled him along as he ran back towards the cabins. Jacob ducked down as Newt expertly blocked every spell that came their way. Seven against one, and Newt was holding his own well enough to keep them both alive. A witch with stringy brown hair cackled and pointed her wand high. The sky above them roared with thunder, and a bolt of lightning shot down to her wand. She redirected the lighting and struck the ground with it in Newt’s path. The lighting missed him by an inch, singeing the ends of his curls. The impact sent him flying to the ground and had him lose his grip on both Jacob and the case, dispersing them both away from him. 

Jacob slid backward into a bench. The case slid a few feet away, halfway between himself and the brown-haired witch. Seeing an opportunity, the witch cast a summoning spell, pulling the case towards her. Newt acted quickly, his instincts acting faster than his brain could catch up. With a flick of his wand, he cast a spell that seized control of the toiling ship. 

“JACOB, HOLD ON!” He warned his defenseless friend. Jacob heeded his words and found the leg of the bench bolted to the floor. He closed his eyes and hooked his arm around it tightly, muttering a silent prayer. 

The ship was already treading rocky seas due to the storm, but with Newt’s spell, the waves reached new heights. A large wave formed at his command and pushed the ship sideways, causing it to tilt steeply. One by one, the black-clad wizards lost their balance, falling hard and sliding across the slick floor beneath them. The witch lost her footing and focus, crashing to the ground and hitting her jaw hard on the ground as she slipped forward, unable to brace herself properly. As Newt's body slid backwards, the case started sliding at speed down to the ship's railing. He angled his body in a way to slide towards his case. 

He outstretched his hand and braced himself. “ACCIO!” He summoned the case swiftly into his hand.

Using his wand, he held it like a stake and used a spell to fix it to the floor. It fused to the wood floor, and his tight grip around it kept him from sliding further as the ship continued to tilt. A few of the wizards slid by him, struggling to keep themselves from slipping. One had used a spell to fuse their feet to the floorboards and tried holding their comrade's hand to keep them from falling. But their hands were too slick from the rain, and eventually, they let go of each other’s grip, sending the unfortunate one sliding down to the ship’s railing. He scrambled for something to get a hold of, but ultimately failed, and Newt watched as he flew by him and off the side of the ship into the raging water. 

Newt looked around until his eyes fell on Jacob, who had managed to stay on board. As the ship started to tilt back into its centered position, Newt began crawling towards him. Some stray spells were cast at him as he army crawled, but each one missed, scorching the floor around him. When he reached Jacob, he grabbed the fabric of his coat in instantly apparated them back into the halls of the ship. Their bodies fell onto the floor of the hall in a wet heap. 

Inside was pandemonium. Below deck, the passengers and crewmen of the ship were running around like chickens without heads. People rushed and pushed past Newt and Jacob, completely unaware of their sudden appearance in the hall. They yelled and screamed, rushing in and out of cabins with cases and life vests. The crewmen were attempting to urge them back inside, but the passengers were adamant on securing life vests and escaping up to lifeboats in a panic. Newt helped Jacob up to his feet and held his arm while dragging him through the bustling halls. 

A familiar swishing sound came from behind them, and they whirled their heads to see one of the acolytes apparate into the hall. Jacob spilled a curse from his mouth as the acolyte spotted them through the chaos. “Go, go, go, GO!” He rushed, pushing Newt forward and following quickly behind. 

They rounded the corner, pushing past scrambling persons and searching for a way out. The ship rocked dangerously, and the lights flickered in regular intervals. Behind them, the acolyte stalked them, evading and pushing anyone who got in his way. Eventually, another joined him, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Where’re we going, Newt?” Jacob asked, his voice wavering in fear.

Newt didn’t answer, his focus solely on his surroundings as he searched for some quick exit. Ahead at the end of the hall, he caught sight of a door to their right, a staff door to be sure, that led to the boilers. Picking up the pace, Newt headed for the boiler. Behind them, the frustrated acolytes got bombarded by a frantic passenger. He came up to one of them and tried to pull them back towards the front of the ship, yelling in Italian. The poor man was cast with the killing curse, his body falling limp on top of the acolyte. Jacob watched in horror as he kept behind Newt. The acolyte threw the man's heavy body to the ground and started in a jog after them. “Newt!” Jacob warned, and Newt looked back to see their trackers rushing for them. 

The two men started in a sprint down the hall. An offensive spell hit above their head, setting off sprinkles inside the hall. Newt pointed his wand in no particular direction over his shoulder, pushing one of the acolytes back several feet. He pressed down on Jacob’s shoulder, helping him duck under another spell that set the light fixture aflame. Catching an idea, Newt cast a spell to break the lights in the hall. One by one, the lights sparked and burst, darkening the hall until it was completely black. They used the cover of the dark to rush behind the staff door, and Newt cast a spell to keep it locked. The steel door protected them from the offensive cast propelled at it, and after a few rattling bangs, the spells stopped. Jacob breathed out a sigh of relief and clutched his beating chest. 

“Newt,” Jacob called between heavy breaths.

“Yes?” Newt answered through his own labored inhales.

“Don’t ever invite me on vacation again.”

Newt let out an airy chuckle and nodded. He rested his head against the cool steel door and stood still to catch his breath. Jacob took in their dark surroundings, loosening his wet collar that stuck to his damp skin. It was warmer in this hall of the ship than the rest. 

“So what now?” Jacob asked helplessly. 

Newt swallowed and opened his eyes. There was a ladder that descended down deeper into the ship. He jutted his head in its direction for Jacob to see. “Down.”

He and Jacob walked to the ladder and descended several feet. Their feet planted on a metal walkway. Newt leads, following the signs that lead to the boiler room. Newt knew they couldn’t hide in the ship forever, not with six acolytes after them. He just needed time to think of a way out of this. Should he keep fighting? No. He’d be putting the people on the ship in even more danger. The muggles shouldn’t have to suffer anymore because of him. The heat of the boiler room increased the deeper they went. When they reached the furnaces, the water on their skin evaporated and was replaced with sweat. Newt clenched his jaw. Somehow, Grindelwald and his acolytes knew where he was. He needed to figure out how to get him and Jacob safely off the ship in a way they couldn't track him. 

Apparition was out of the question. He was too far from anything familiar, and he barely knew the surroundings and locations of Naples to apparate back without risking splinching. Newt squeezed the handle of his suitcase. He could only think of one way out, and it was mad. Jacob wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit.

They needed to get to the deck again. If they could hide in the chaos, the acolytes wouldn’t be able to find them, and they could escape unnoticed. By the time they realize they have escaped, it would be too late. The back of the ship would be best. There’d be fewer muggles as most of them would be arguing amongst themselves on the main deck where the greater portion of the lifeboats resided. Newt followed the signs that read ‘aft’.

Just over half a hundred men were yelling and rushing in the boiler room; they hardly noticed Newt and Jacob as they pushed through. One worker grabbed Newt by the arm and started yelling at him in Italian whilst pointing back towards the front of the ship, no doubt urging them to get out of their way and back to the passengers’ cabins. Newt apologized, ignoring his instructions and freeing himself from his grip to continue toward the back of the ship. He could see the exit up when a dark, cloaked figure emerged from behind one of the furnaces. Newt stopped in his tracks and held out an arm to block Jacob. Flanking them on either side were two others similarly uniformed assailants. More of the boiler room workers noticed and surrounded them at this point. They were all yelling at them to leave, frustrated and cursing in both English and Italian, only to be ignored.

Newt’s eyes trailed down at the wand in the acolyte's hand ahead of him. He stood still, waiting to see who would make the first move, keeping the others in his periphery, ready to catch and retaliate against any sudden movement. It was the witch to his left that moved first. She cast a spell at him, but he dove for the ground just in time, pulling Jacob down with him. The cast flew over their heads and hit the wizard on their right, sending him flying into a wall of scorching pipes. He let out a blood-curdling scream. The workers, terrified, fled the area, climbing up stairs and ladders to the upper decks.

“Expelliarmus!” Newt sent the witch’s wand flying into one of the open furnaces. A raging fire exploded in the furnace, and Newt used his arms to protect his face from the heat of the flames. The flames flashed various colors as the magical item sparked and burned to ash.

“NO!” Screamed the powerless witch. She furiously started for Newt, sprinting with her arms outstretched to grab him. He leapt to his feet and pointed his wand to a nearby mound of coal. He quickly cast a charm to send them flying in her direction. She attempted to evade them but stopped in her tracks as hundreds of coal rocks pelted her at high speed. She shrieked and covered her face as she stumbled backward, eventually turning on her heels to run off and hide away. 

“NEWT!” Jacob yelled.

Suddenly, a feeling like a graphorn charging and bunting him in the stomach sent him flying back. He slid back a ways on the floor, and his mouth opened to expel a silent scream. The air had been completely knocked from his lungs, and he rolled over on his side in pain. He had a firm enough grip on his case to keep it by his side. Jacob ran towards Newt, but he only made it a few paces before he felt something pulling him back. The acolyte used a spell to summon Jacob to him. 

Jacob shouted to Newt for help, doing his best to fight against this spell, but it was like being pulled back by an automobile heading in the opposite direction. His feet slipped from under him, and his body dragged along the floor towards the pale-skinned dark wizard.

Newt gulped for breath and used all his strength to grab his case and get back on his feet. Once he managed to stand somewhat upright, he faced the acolyte, who now had Jacob in his grip, wand to throat. 

“Give me the case,” he instructed. “Or your filthy muggle pet dies.”

“Newt,” Jacob’s wavering voice called out. “I know you love your creatures and all, but maybe this one time you could do what the crazy guy says, please?”

“Shut up!” The acolyte seethed. He eye’d Newt dangerously. “The case, now!”

Newt lifted his hands up in surrender. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly hunched over due to the pain in his back and side. He eyed Jacob, who struggled against the acolyte’s hold. Jacob met Newt’s eyes, and he could read by the look of them that he had a plan, which did not ease his nerves. Newt gave Jacob a barely noticeable nod and darted his eyes to the left. Jacob sighed and closed his, thinking a silent prayer.

Using his foot, Newt pushes his case across the room towards the acolyte. Jacob, with all his strength, broke free from his grasp and dove to the right behind a furnace. The acolyte, satisfied, bent down to open the case. Once the lid reared back, he looked into the cavernous hole in bewildered shock. Not a moment later, a flurry of yellow, orange, and red burst from inside the case. An avian creature, similar to that of a phoenix, let out a unique screech as it circled the area. It was a large creature with a beautiful, flaming wingspan and glowing plumage. A firebird. The acolyte stepped back, and Newt pursed his lips to blow a melodic whistle. The firebird responded, mimicking the notes with his song, and dove for the acolyte. He retaliated, sending a series of attacks at the creature. The firebird, however, was swift and agile, dodging each spell. Newt then used his wand to cast a restraining spell on the acolyte, stiffening his arms at his sides. The firebird began swirling around the struggling dark wizard, and a funnel of flames emitted from its wings, encasing him. He screamed in horror, unable to escape his fiery death as the firebird quickly incinerated him in its golden flames. 

Jacob watched, awestruck, feeling the intense heat of the tornado-like flames. A bright flare of light had both him and Newt shielding their eyes, and then—nothing. The acolyte’s screams stopped, and the heat died down. They uncovered their eyes to see the firebird descend upon a pile of ash that was once a person. The creature innocently cawed in Newt’s direction as it nestled in the ashes. 

Newt rushed to his case and the bird. “Good boy,” he cooed as he stroked under the firebird’s beak with his finger. “Back in you go.”

The firebird obediently flapped its wings and flew into the air, circling a few times before barrel-diving into the case. Newt closed the case and locked it, taking it by the handle and rushing to Jacob.

“Jacob, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He asked as he helped him to his feet.

Jacob, dazed, looked past Newt and down to the pile of ash on the floor. “You’re a little scary, you know that?”

Newt chuckled humorlessly. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two men headed towards the boiler room exit. The inside of the ship was practically barren. A few muggles littered the halls or kept themselves locked in their cabins, but the majority had escaped to the deck. They managed to get to the back of the ship undetected, once again opening a steel door to step into the storm. They trudged to ships the railing and gripped it tight to keep steady. Newt looked over the railing down to the black abyss below. He could hear the angry seawaters lapping at the sides of the ship, and for a second, he hesitated executing his mad plan. Jacob, concerned by the expression on Newt’s face and the fact that he was looking so intently at the water below, spoke up. “Newt? What are you planning?” He asked, afraid to hear the answer that might confirm his fears. 

Newt turned to Jacob, a sorry look in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Jacob furrowed his brows. “Well, now I’m not so sure!”

Ignoring Jacob’s doubt, Newt stepped several paces back, set his case down, and opened it. From it, he summoned the kelpie. The great creature leapt from the bag and onto the deck, taking its favorite form of a horse. Jacob shook his head disapprovingly. “Oh, no. Newt, no!”

“Jacob, this is the only way we get out of this,” Newt implored. “The kelpie is extremely fast and adaptable; it will carry us away safely.”

The kelpie chuffed and stomped a hoof on the floor. Reluctantly and with mutters of protest, Jacob cautiously made his way to the kelpie and, with Newt’s help, managed to climb on its back. Newt went back to close the case and returned to hand it to Jacob. As Jacob took the case, his eyes drifted behind Newt and grew wide. 

“NEWT, LOOK OUT!”

Newt managed to step out of the way as a stray spell hit the kelpie on its backside. It reared on its hind legs and squealed, starting at full speed toward the ship's railing.

“JACOB, HOLD ON!” Newt called out. Jacob wrapped his arms around the kelpies vines. He screamed Newt’s name as the beast jumped over the railing like a hurdle and down towards the sea. Turning around, Newt met the enclosing wall of the remaining acolytes. They wasted no time attacking him with spells. Newt, ever the defensive, blocked and dodged most of them, occasionally redirecting spells back at them. He successfully pushed one overboard after redirecting their spell, and another he managed to use a freezing charm to encase another acolyte’s legs inside solid blocks of ice stuck to the floorboards. Desperate, a witch called down a strike of lightning and dragged it across the deck, letting it scorch through the entirety of the ship and setting it aflame. The act caused the ship to rumble and make a terrifying sound. 

The act left them all unstable, and they each fell to the ground. The floor beneath them cracked and split, opening like an egg. Newt pushed himself up by the elbows and watched as the ship tore apart. “No…”

Screams could be heard from the other side of the ship. The muggles cried in horror as the ship lit up in flames and broke beneath them. Several lifeboats had since been deployed, but there was still a significant number left onboard, struggling to get off. The acolytes disapparated one by one, seemingly finished with him. Newt was so distraught by the damage and sounds of people fearing for their lives, he didn’t notice the floor slowly giving away under him. He jumped back into his skin when the jolt of the floor breaking down beneath him made him slide towards the splitting cavern. Flipping onto his stomach, Newt army crawled in the opposite direction. He managed to make it to the side of the ship’s railing when a cable snapped from its rig and writhed about, ultimately hitting Newt in his back. The force of the heavy cable sent Newt hurtling into the sea. 

His body went into shock from the searing pain. He didn’t have the mind or time to brace his body for impact with the thrashing sea below. It was another breathtaking blow when his body hit the water. He took a sharp inhale on impact, filling his lungs with water. Newt choked and struggled for breath while his body descended deep into the sea. He desperately searched for his wand, which had slipped from his grip during the fall. A flash of lightning from above revealed the wand floating down several meters away. With desperate strength, Newt swam as fast as he could to his wand, but the burning of his lungs made it increasingly difficult. He made it only a few feet before he started to lose consciousness. His body went limp. His limbs sprawled about, and his eyes struggled to stay open. The salty water stung his eyes, and the lack of oxygen turned them bloodshot red. 

He felt something slip from his chest. From it floated his picture of Tina. Trying his best, he reached for the picture, hoping to grab it, but his attempts failed. So he watched helplessly as her photo drifted to the bottom of the sea, disappearing into the abyss. Newt closed his eyes, and he quickly realized he was dying. Not the way he’d imagined it would happen. He never presumed to live a long life, not with his life’s purpose being a magizoologist studying many dangerous magical beasts. He thought, perhaps, he would die at the hands of a nundu or a chimera. But drowning in a sea? How uninteresting. 

He was prepared, too tired to fight off death, and welcomed it to take him, when suddenly he felt something swimming around him. It was a large something. Perhaps it was Jacob with his kelpie. But if that were the case, it would not be circling him as much as it was. No. The pattern felt like something was…surveying him. Opening his eyes, Newt was met with nothingness, only the vast and empty sea below. He could feel it, though. Something was watching him. He knew the feeling all too well, the sense of being hunted. 

He struggled to keep his consciousness, wanting a glimpse. Perhaps it was nothing but a simple shark, gaging his weakness and preparing to strike. What did it matter? He thought. He prepared for the strike, or for his consciousness to finally give way, but it never came. Newt gave away his last moments of sentience to peace and let the water comfort him. 

Suddenly, there was no pain, and just when he had welcomed the will to let go, he felt a pair of arms hook underneath his shoulders. He could feel himself being pulled up from the water. A chest, a human chest pressed against his back and powerful strokes propelled their bodies through the sea. Scales. White, iridescent scales on the end of a large fishtail swishing fervently between his legs was the last thing he saw before his vision faded to black.

Chapter Text

If he had to guess, Newt would say drowning is possibly the worst way to die. Granted, he hadn’t had much experience with dying. He’d had close calls, to be sure. He’s stared down the jowls and talons of many beasts in his lifetime and felt the quickening of his heart inside his chest. He’s felt the pain of teeth sinking into his skin, claws slicing at his flesh, and venoms burning through his nervous system. But a near death experience, he realized, is something he never truly ventured. That is, until now. 

With new knowledge found, he’d prefer the killing toxins of a nundu, the quick burn of dragonfyre, the fangs of an acromantula, or the eyes of a basilisk. Now, even the instant death of the killing curse seemed a mercy. Anything else would be a sweeter fate than the constant, petty, futile fight for air. Drowning is slow. That’s the issue of it. After a while, you catch yourself thinking, ‘When is it going to end?’  It gives you time to beg for death. To yearn it. To embrace it with gospel like praise. 

Drowning is the silent, sadomasochistic master of death, relishing in the domination of its suffering slave. It watches as you strangle yourself, doing everything you can to keep air in your lungs. Your own body betrays you, convulsing, trying its hardest to save you, but simultaneously killing you in its instinctual attempts to get oxygen back into your body. You feel it all. Water rushing down your throat and into your lungs. The spasming coughs that mean to expel it all out but only incite more gulps—in through your nose, your mouth, even your ears—you begin to fill up full of the stuff. Everything suddenly feels so tight, as if you’ll explode. It’s excruciating. All the while, you’re still fighting to swim up, to break your head through the surface and take that painful but liberating breath of air. It isn’t until the cells in your brain start to die that you feel a sense of peace. You stop struggling. You lose consciousness. Suddenly, there is no pain, and you feel glad…ecstatic even, because the whole affair is over. You can die now. 

The only thing worse than drowning was, perhaps, the surviving of it. A sharp, painful breath is what woke Newt from his death-like slumber. It was a feeling akin to a thousand needles poking his lungs and chest from the inside out. Water sputtered from his mouth, and he turned on his side to reject the contents of his stomach: salt water, algae, and stomach acid. The regurgitated seawater burned his already raw throat and nose. Tears spilled from his eyes from all the varying sensations of pain: from his swollen throat, his bruised lungs, and fractured bones, to the ringing in his head, and his clogged eardrums. Newt’s fingers ran over the earth beneath him. Rocks. Hard, wet rocks and pebbled sand slipped between his slender digits. Blinding light scorched his mossy irises as he pried back his heavy eyelids. 

It took several blinks and more effort than he expected to keep his eyes open and focused. All around him, there were rocks—thousands of them, weathered and worn, stretching toward towering, jagged stone formations that enclosed the shoreline. Above, the sky was a vast, cloudless blue. Waves crashed against his legs and lower back, drenching him.

His body felt heavy as lead. Each attempt he made at moving was harder than the last. He writhed about for a while, pain shooting up his sides and shoulder. The rocks beneath him dug into his flesh, grinding against his torso and knees as he managed to crawl forward a couple feet onto dryer rock. The pathetic act summoned an intense ringing in his ears and a throbbing ache at his temples. His frustrated groans ebbed into wheezing breaths, and tears welled in his eyes. It even hurt to cry. He felt humbled in this moment. Infantile. Like a newborn—unable to stand, unable to walk—easily overwhelmed and frustrated by the limpness of its body and the uncomfortable awareness that, despite being content in a floating edge of nothingness, it is now forced to live and breathe as a sentient being in an unfathomable world. Thus, amidst his solemn mournful cries, he had the fleeting surmise that he did indeed die in those waters, and, like the phoenix, was resurrected—reborn as something else. Someone different. Of one thing he was for certain: whatever pulled him from the sea did not save the same man who fell into it. 

“Newt!”

Distant, muffled, calls of his name sent a wave of relief washing over his catatonic frame. Newt closed his eyes in silent gratitude, blinking away more tears that slipped over the bridge of his nose and the swell of his freckled cheeks. 

“Newt!” Jacob’s desperate drawl drew in closer. 

Newt wanted to yell back, to call Jacob to him, but when he opened his mouth to speak, only a weak, gravelly, aspirated garble came out. The act alone strained his throat, and he winced at the foul ache. He could just make out the sound of heavy footsteps, thumping and shifting loose sediment. 

“Newt!” Their pace quickened, heading straight for him. Jacob called Newt’s name in beholden affection as he dropped to his side and pulled him into his lap. 

“Hey, buddy. Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Jacob coddled, as though saying it multiple times would somehow make it true. 

Jacob propped Newt up, tightly holding onto his arm. The act caused another wave of nausea, and Newt spewed more seawater from his stomach. He went into another violent coughing fit, and in an attempt to help and ease his overworking lungs, Jacob slapped Newt’s bruised and battered back with a firm hand. Newt recoiled from Jacob’s touch, and his face scrunched in pain. His raspy yell sent Jacob’s hand flying high above his head. 

“What—what, did that hurt?” Jacob nervously sputtered. 

Newt motioned weakly for Jacob to lift up his shirt, and he obliged. Carefully, Jacob unclipped Newt’s suspenders and pulled up his dress shirt and undershirt that were still tightly tucked into his trousers to reveal his bare back. 

“Oh my God…” The woeful expression escaped Jacob’s mouth before he could stop it. 

The expanse of Newt’s back was covered in fresh violet bruises in varying shades. The greater portion of it was on his left side, encompassing his ribs. It spread to his spine and crossed to his right shoulder blade. Jacob pulled Newt’s shirt back down. 

“I don’t know what to do,” muttered Jacob. He sat for a moment, intently looking over Newt, who was still composing himself. Then, his face lit up, and he looked at the briefcase sitting a foot away on his left. “I got your case!” 

He grabbed the case and set it up in front of Newt. “I held on tight to this baby the whole night. Your seahorse brought me here—he’s in there, too! I made sure to get him back in. You got stuff in here, don’t ya? Magic stuff that’ll fix you up?” Newt nodded weakly. “I knew it,” Jacob clapped. “C’mon, let’s get you up.” 

Jacob hooked an arm around Newt’s waist and pulled him up to his feet. He lifted Newt with surprising ease, despite him being nearly dead weight. Jacob was strong enough to keep him stable as they stepped down the case. What would usually be a ladder had become a set of rickety stairs. The magic of Newt’s case never ceased to amaze. Once inside, Jacob sat Newt on the cot. He looked around the shed, still in disarray from the events of the night before.

“Alright, uh…” He turned to the work bench, recalling the many times Newt had pulled mysterious herbs, vials, and salves from it to heal any ailments he had. “There’s gotta be something in here, right?” He looked at Newt. 

Newt was using his left hand to unbutton his shirt. Shrugging it off his shoulders, he looked up at Jacob and then his workbench. He gestured to a drawer that was slightly ajar. Jacob followed his gaze and opened it. Inside was a notebook, some empty vials, and a skeletal-looking bottle. Jacob frowned and held the bottle up for Newt. Newt held his hand out to take it. He placed the bottle between his legs and used his left hand to pull the top off. A foul stench permeated from the bottle, and Newt hesitated bringing it to his mouth. With a quick swig, he drank the rancid potion, letting it burn his already sore throat on its way down.

It didn’t take long for him to feel it take effect. Particularly, he felt the effect in his chest and ribs. Whatever fractures or breaks he had would be healed by morning, though he would not enjoy the process. It was a consistent scraping feeling under his skin, which grew more irritating and painful the more he focused on it. He handed the Skele-Gro bottle back to Jacob for him to put away. He looked at his right shoulder to see the protruding bone poking at his skin. Newt had dislocated his shoulder before when a graphorn hand bunted him several feet onto hard ground. He knew a spell to set it back in place—but his wand. He was missing his wand. 

The faint memory of his wand sinking into the depths of the sea crossed his mind, and an aching feeling bubbled in his stomach and chest. A wizard’s wand is an extension of his self, and though wands could break and change allegiance, and new wands could be acquired, losing your wand felt similar to losing a limb. Without it, he was virtually powerless. A spell was of no use to him now. Newt never wished he had the talent for wandless magic more than he did in this moment. It would make what he was about to do much easier.

Straightening his back, Newt carefully raised his dislocated arm and outstretched it in front of him. He breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying not to focus on the pain. With his other hand, he grabbed his wrist tight. Jacob watched him closely, his face screwed up in a tight grimace. In one swift motion, Newt gave a sharp tug to his dislocated shoulder. A disgusting popping sound grated against Jacob’s ears as he watched Newt’s shoulder twist and pop back into place. Newt’s jaw clenched, and he tucked his right arm into his chest, doubling over from the sudden adjustment. 

“Jeez...” Jacob sighed and moved to sit by Newt’s side. Taking Newt’s dress shirt, Jacob fashioned a makeshift sling, tying the sleeves together over Newt’s left shoulder and nestling his arm inside its hammock. 

“Thank you, Jacob,” Newt’s gravely voice managed to push out. 

“Don’t thank me,” Jacob dismissed. “I should be thanking you. You saved my life.”

The right corner of Newt’s lips twitched upwards into a timid ghost of a smirk. “Well, actually, it was the kelpie.”

“Newt,” Jacob cuts in, serious. Newt faltered as he met Jacob’s woeful eyes. 

“I thought you died,” He frets. “I watched the ship split in half. It went up in flames—and the screams. So many people…I should have stayed with you, I should’ve helped!”

Newt shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have that.”

“But I could have—“

“There is nothing you could have done,” Newt tried to comfort. “We were outnumbered.”

The air between them grew heavy as unwelcome memories of the night resurfaced. Jacob sighed and muttered a small habitual prayer for lives lost. Newt, upon finding the strength, sat up and walked to his workbench. His foot stepped on something fragile—glass—and it broke under his weight. Lifting his foot, he looked down and saw the cracked portrait of Leta smiling up at him. He carefully bent down and picked up the broken picture frame. He put it flat on the workbench to deal with later. He winced when a particular sharp pain shot up his ribcage, tightly gripping the edge of the bench counter. 

“Maybe you should lie down,” Jacob suggested. 

Newt shook his head. “No. The faster we get to the seer, the better.” He took a vial of green liquid from a rack and downed it like a shot of fire whiskey. His pains subsided quickly, much of it numbing while more severe pains dulled to a manageable ache. He told Jacob they would leave the case once he checked on all his creatures, ensuring each one wasn’t hurt, especially the kelpie. Jacob, deciding it was useless to argue, nodded and stayed in the shack while Newt gathered a pail and his wand on his way out. 

                                     ⁎ ⊹
                                  ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂
                                    ⊹ ＊ 

Much to Newt’s relief, most of his creatures weren’t harmed. Some were more anxious than usual, others seemed completely unbothered. Some enclosures were in disarray, but Newt manually repaired them to the best of his ability. The kelpie seemed happy to see him when he walked to the edge of its enclosure. It had sustained some minor injuries but nothing worth causing worry. After ensuring each creature was fed and cared for, Newt returned to Jacob in the shack. When he entered, a once-sleeping Jacob startled awake.

“Sorry,” Newt croaked out. 

Every time Newt spoke, Jacob had to keep himself from cringing. The gravelly nature of his voice sounded painful, and he couldn’t help but sympathize. He cleared his throat and sat up in the cot, explaining that he wasn’t asleep, only resting his eyes. Newt fished around inside a nearby cupboard for clean, non-seasoaked clothes. He tossed some to Jacob, who had lost his suitcase to the sea. 

“Uh, I don’t think these’ll fit,” said Jacob. 

“They will,” Newt assured, picking an outfit for himself. 

As they dressed, Jacob marveled at how the clothes Newt had shared with him slipped over his larger frame with ease, adjusting to his size. Newt stared at himself in the mirror attached to the cupboard door. He stood half-naked, intently taking in the strange reflection. His slender frame was painted black, purple, blue, and yellow-green. His hollowed eyes stared emotionless back at him, accompanied by dark grey circles. Any warm color that had given his skin a healthy, youthful glow had disappeared, and he looked almost ghoulish. Newt looked away from the mirror and continued to clothe himself in a simple white quarter-sleeve cotton shirt with a deep open collar. He wore brown slacks attached to matching suspenders. He found a long sliver of blue fabric on a shelf, perhaps an underused cravat he forgot about. It worked well enough to fashion into a sling.

Once finished, he turned to Jacob. “Ready?”

Jacob finished tucking his tie and nodded. Wordlessly, they both stalked up the case stairs and opened the hatch. Again, they stepped back onto the beach. It was late afternoon, from what Newt could tell by the sky. The tide had begun rolling in, and the edge of the sea was much closer than it once was. Turning his back to the sea, Newt studied the surrounding land. Rocky and steep, the beach they stood on was a cove sloping beneath a vegetated mountainside. A direct path etched upward to the mountaintop. There seemed to be no visible signs of human life, which silently worried Newt. The cooling sea breeze rippled his shirt and caressed his hot skin. 

“We should walk up to the top of the mountain,” said Newt. Jacob looked up the steep mountainside and deflated. The Mediterranean summer sun already had sweat beading at his hairline; a hike up a rocky mountain was a dreadful thought. 

“If we’re lucky, we will find a village or someone to give us directions,” Newt continued as he collected his case. 

“Luck and us ain’t exactly friends, though, are we?” Jacob grumbled aside. 

“Perhaps not.”

Jacob looked out to the sea. From where he stood, he found it hard to believe the enticing, calm, blue waters in front of him were the same waters he watched swallow a steamboat full of people. “You don’t think they’ll be coming after us again?” He frowned. 

Newt thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Not for a while, at least. For now, they have every right to believe we’re dead. Though I’m sure once they realize we are not, they’ll be back for the relic.”

“What relic?” Jacob asked. 

“I don’t know. But clearly it is something they do not want me to have—something they don’t want Dumbledore to have. Inevitably, I must have it, whatever it is.” Newt turned to Jacob almost excitedly. “He reacted too quickly. He must have had a vision of me with this relic and got scared.”

Jacob scoffed. “Grindelwald scared?”

“That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Whatever relic Grindelwald thinks I have must be a threat. Why else would he prematurely send his acolytes? This seer Dumbledore is bread-crumbing us to must know something about it.” 

“I guess so. I just don’t understand why Dumbledore couldn’t tell you straight out—JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

The men’s eyes set upon the half-submerged figure bobbing far out in the water. The sun hung low behind it, covering its face in shadow, but it was unmistakable by the soft slope of its neck and shoulders and the outline of long, wet hair, that it was a woman. 

“Could she be a survivor?” Jacob wondered. “HELLO! MISS ARE YOU OKAY?” 

The woman’s figure stayed silent and still, aside from the periodic rise and fall of waves rolling into her. Jacob continued calling out to her, hoping to get a response. Newt, however, only stared, brows slightly furrowed. He couldn’t see their features, and yet, he could feel it: the unmistakable bore of eyes on him. It was unnerving. A shiver tickled down his neck and spine, and his heart skipped every other beat. 

“Jacob,” said Newt distantly. Jacob stopped calling out and turned to Newt, whose eyes were fixed on the bobbing woman, as if in a trance. “She’s not a survivor.”

Jacob looked back to the strange figure in the sea. He frowned, eyes squinting to get a better look. Newt stepped closer to the shoreline, and almost in tandem, the shadowy woman swam backward. Newt stopped immediately, not wanting to scare her off. He thought he imagined it. That it was one last hallucination before his consciousness slipped away. It was shameful how easily he accepted such a lame excuse. He never gave it a second thought until now. The feeling of arms hooking underneath his and pulling him through the water. The faint shimmering detail of a large iridescent fish tail swishing between his limp legs. It had been real. Not often is Newt astonished by the many inexplicable wonders of the world, having traversed it well, but this was something so entirely mystical, something so intangible, he felt weightless and overcome. 

Newt slowly and gently placed his case on the ground. Using the tactics he often utilized with beasts, he held up his unbound hand in a non-threatening manner and crouched his large frame to appear smaller and less threatening. “I mean no harm,” he called out to her. Jacob watched his friend curiously but kept from interrupting. He, too, mimicked Newt’s behavior and bent over in a crouched manner. 

The figure stared at them for a moment longer, silently wading in the water. “Lower your head,” Newt instructed his friend beside him. Nodding, Jacob bowed his head along with Newt, staring at the rocky shore beneath them. The tide inched closer to the tips of their shoes as waves crashed over the slippery rocks. They silently waited—for what, they were unsure, but they stayed crouched over for so long their leg and core muscles stared to burn. Newt stayed hovering, unyielding despite the increasing burning pain and soreness of his injuries. Only the sound of wind and sea lapping at the shore and nearby rock accompanied the occasional seagull squawk. 

“How long we gotta stand here like this?” Jacob strained after a while. 

A sinking feeling rose in Newt’s chest. Was she still there bobbing in the waves? Did she swim away when they weren’t looking? The thought grieved him. Slowly, Newt lifted his head, expecting to see nothing but empty, open sea. His soft, sudden gasp caused Jacob to finally lift his head. When he did, he yelped, jumping and falling back hard onto the hard ground. He stared wordlessly in disbelief and fear, whereas Newt stood firm, still bowed before the daunting figure before them. 

Less than a foot in front of them, laid upon the rocks of the shallow sea edge, was a beautiful woman with long, drenched locks that hung around her face and stuck to her glistening skin. She had the most tantalizing eyes, decorated with long, thick lashes that watched them with both child-like curiosity and wary uncertainty. Her focus seemed to predominately be on Newt, who was now the closest to her. She was naked. Her bare breasts were partially covered by her hair. The most striking detail of her was not her beauty, nor her apparent nakedness, but rather the fact that instead of bare hips, legs, and feet, she possessed a thick, lengthy, fish-like tail. The unblemished skin of her back and waist seamlessly transitioned into milky-white scales. Along the backside of her tail were spiked anterior and posterior dorsal fins and finlets. At her hips, flowing pectoral fins, and at her tail’s end, a large, matching, biconcave, lunate fluke. In the sun, her scales shimmered hues of purple, green, orange, and blue, like an iridescent pearl. She was, for a lack of better words, stunning. 

Her eyes locked with Newt’s, unrelenting in their piercing gaze. He could feel himself growing nervous, almost bashful. Her neatly kept brows knit closer together as she tilted her head to the side, seemingly studying him as he was studying her. 

“Can you speak?” He asked softly, so as to not startle her. 

She stared blankly at him with no hint of understanding. Newt hesitated, then took a cautious step forward. The moment he moved, she recoiled, pushing herself further into the water. “I’m sorry!” Newt blurted out, freezing in place. 

The magnificent creature stilled, and her eyes locked on him. She was practically predicting his every move. Wordlessly, she clutched something at her chest. Newt hadn’t noticed it before, but around her torso was a woven work of kelp and an old fishing net. After giving one last look, she broke their gaze to look down at her side where the strap of her intwined kelp and net turned into a deep pocket. It functioned exactly like a satchel, and from it, she pulled out a wooden square picture frame and placed it at his feet. Tina. 

His eyes flew up to see her eyeing him expectingly. Without a word, she reached into the satchel again and pulled out a long, pointed stick, placing it beside Tina’s picture. His wand. She found his wand! Newt’s heart jumped excitedly in his chest. A wave of gratitude rushed over him, easing the sinking feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach. When he met the creature's eyes, his words escaped him. Such a radiant creature should not exist, and yet, there she was, staring doe-eyed and querying. 

Every detail of her fascinated and beguiled, as is the nature of such an entity. He found himself savoring the image of her, from the arch of her brow to the curve of her lips. The way her hair framed her face and how the shadows contoured her cheekbones. He scanned the whole of her, committing to her memory. His gaze glossed over the curve of her shoulders, noting the smoothness of her skin, when he noticed the one and only blemish that scathed the crook of her neck and left shoulder. Burns, by the look of them. The exposed pink of her flesh and blisters that presumably continued to her shoulder were undoubtedly painful, though she showed no signs of it. Without a second thought, Newt reached his hand to push her hair out of the way so he could examine it further, but the moment his fingertips brushed her lustrous locks, she reeled back into the sea. 

“Wait! I’m sorry!” He called after her, but she moved with such agility and speed; she was already diving her head back under the water. Her tail flicked over the surface until she reached deeper waters; her shining, shimmering tail flapped one last time before disappearing beneath the waves. 

The two men left ashore remained dumbfounded, staring distantly at the open waters. Jacob, who hadn’t dared to speak from the moment the creature crawled onto shore, was the one to break their awestricken silence. 

“You saw what I saw, right?”

Newt nodded. “Yes,” he said faintly.

A sudden exclaiming laugh burst from Jacob that quickly turned into a joyous fit of laughter. “I can’t believe it!” He shouted as he stumbled to his feet. “That was amazing! Did you see her? She was beautiful, oh my god! Newt, did we really just see a—”

“A siren.” Newt’s eyes stared longingly at the sea, the lilt of pure astonishment inflecting his tone. “She’s a siren.”