Newt

"Then you belong in... Hufflepuff!"

Applause breaks out across the Grand Hall and a small girl at the tender age of ten looks out at the strangers dressed in robes of varying colors. With a small nod of thanks to the professor who placed the sorting hat on her head, she heads down to the table filled with eager and happy faces. Some even clapped her on the shoulder, happy that she's sorted into their house. She's barely able to muster up a smile in return, their energy almost contagious.

After sitting down and adjusting the new robes, she peers up to see the rest of her fellow new students slowly get called to be sorted.

She doesn't pay attention, rather, she's curious about the food that she's going to eat. In fact, the last time she's eaten English food was when an English businessman came home to meet with her parents about some kind of business. The staff had to prepare the meal with the English man in mind.

After all, her family is from far away.

A boy sits down next to her, about the same size as she is and she turns to face him. He has a smattering of freckles on his face with unruly brown hair. But he looks as uncomfortable as she feels here that she forces herself to practice the English she's taught.

"Hi," she says and inwardly cringes. She can hear the other students being called to the Sorting Hat. Almost finished.

His gaze flicks up to her, briefly and then returns his attention to the plate in front of him.

"Hello," he responds, a moment later.

Amid the cacophony of the students talking among themselves, she feels dwarfed and small and wishes she could hide somewhere that isn't here.

And just as quickly as their conversation starts, it dies.

She rubs her wrist, hidden underneath her robes' sleeves, and tries to think of her grandparents and what they would say in this situation. She wanted to make new friends, yes, but her nervousness tells her another thing altogether.

"What's... what's that you're rubbing?"

She turns to the boy next to her, unsure if she's heard him talk or not since he hasn't looked her way. But, he seems to be paying attention and she holds her wrist out, hidden underneath the large tables. It's a jade bangle with what could've been cracks are instead filled with golden and red material. There's nothing extraordinary about it, but she knows it's different than normal jade bangles.

He turns his head, looking it over with a raised brow.

"My—" For a moment, she isn't sure if it's something to share, but she wants to try making friends—it'd make her grandmother happy that she is, "—my grandparents' said it's made from the eggshells of a Chinese Fireball."

His eyes widen. He, hesitantly, reaches forward. But then his hands stop just short of her arms. "May I?"

She nods and he reaches out to twirl the bangle around her wrist. It shows off the glints of gold and shimmering red that catches from the candles hovering above them. "It's the red part, right?"

She nods again and he flashes her a smile.

"What do their eggs look like?" She's taken aback by his question, surprised he wants to keep the conversation going. She gulps down her nerves and continues, excited and nervous.

"Red—red with some gold tinges on the edges—they're like spikey all around it so it's really hard to pick one up without it hurting," she explains, describing it to the best she can remember. "B-But, they don't come out like that when the mom lays them though, and they become spikey after a few hours of being in the air and the mom's body."

For a moment, there's a smile he makes that relaxes her and she smiles back.

"That's—that's brilliant."

Now finding enough courage, she introduced herself.

"I'm Athena."

His gaze is fleeting but when he focuses on her, he says, "I'm Newt, Newton Scamander."

And she smiles.

— x —

"Mister Scamander, your book is simply amazing!" A fan gushes when Newt nods, bowing his head just shortly after he quirks his lips into a smile. It's genuine, for the most part, and Newt is happy that the book is so well received.

They hand him his book that he's spent the last several years writing. Completed and published at last.

"And who shall I make this out to?" he asks, but he doesn't meet their gaze. He's focused on the book in front of him and with a quill in hand, he waits for their words.

"Please make that out to Markus, thank you."

His gaze flits up, quick enough to perceive their giddiness and his mouth twitches into another smile. It's actually difficult for him to not smile since the release of Fantastic Beasts And Where to Find Them. Those in the wizarding community are finding it awe-inspiring, informative, and revolutionary for its time as no one else has given it a try to understanding these creatures.

It's only when the last book is signed and the patrons are gone that it leaves Leta, Theseus, and himself. With the day over, Theseus places a hand on Newt's shoulder.

"You did an amazing job, Newt," he says, his voice tinged with pride.

While Newt isn't necessarily close to his brother, he takes the praise with surprising ease. He bows his head again, averting his gaze with the corners of his lips twitching into a genuine smile. "Thanks," he says, knowing his brother is being sincere and his hand drops from his shoulder.

They make their way to the door and shortly after saying his thanks to the shop keeps of Flourish and Blotts, Leta and Theseus wait for him.

He pauses, turning to see Leta warmly smile. "Let's go get a bite and head home."

Newt averts his gaze, deciding to focus his attention on her shoulder. "You go ahead—but thank you for the offer."

Theseus frowns. "It's a celebration dinner, on Leta and I, on the successful launch of your book. Don't you want to celebrate it?"

Newt flicks his gaze to Theseus, briefly, and then bows his head. Since their announcement of their engagement, it's been a little peculiar to be included with them. Though his old school years' feelings have changed and are otherwise gone, it still leaves a strange and perhaps even bitter taste in his mouth. But, at least it doesn't hurt. "I really appreciate it, I do, but I have my creatures to take care of and I really would like an early night."

There's a short pause when Theseus and Leta exchange glances.

"Are you sure?" Leta asks. "This is a good a time as any for us to catch up—come on, it's a celebration of all your years of hard work!"

His mouth twitches into a smile, fleeting, and he nods. "Yes, but there will be other days. And thank you, Leta, but I really best be going for the night."

"Alright, if you say so." Theseus sounds unconvinced, but he isn't one to pry. "Goodnight, Newt. Get home safe, alright?"

Leta approaches him. "Take care." And smiles again. "Again, congratulations on the publication."

It's only a moment more before he lifts his gaze to watch as his brother and Leta apparate away that he follows suit.

With all of his creatures attended to, an hour later, Newt finds himself prepping for the next meals' of the next coming days that he almost misses the owl that appears with a letter in its beak. He does a double-take, flicking his gaze once at the notification and then glancing back when he looks away.

He frowns. Newt isn't expecting anyone to send him much of anything in the recent days that he finds it odd.

Newt gives the owl a rub and a treat as thanks for the delivery and heads upstairs. He quickly opens the letter to faintly smile. Oh, it's a letter from an old friend he's made back from his years in Hogwarts. They've always been his own cheerleader on his endeavors to magical creatures and now, to his embarrassment, his first fan. Though, in recent years, they're more penpals since he hasn't seen her since he was sixteen.

Dear Newt,

First off, I'd like to congratulate you on the release of your book! Would you find it amusing that your dear old friend here is a fan?

Though I'll confess, the book is so beautifully well written and quite informative...

The letter continues on to describe their feelings on the subject, her passion for the magical creatures is as evident as his own when she provides sketches of creatures she's seen and some of them, he's yet to see himself.

But as the weeks go by, he gets more and more fan mail after the success of the book's release makes it to the bestseller list by the end of March.

The fan letters are something he tries to actively answer for a time, dedicating a good portion of his evenings to answering. Most especially since his evenings are left a little quiet. It's a good distraction from the reminder that Leta is engaged to his brother, something that feels out-of-sorts and bears bitter and otherwise mixed feelings about. Even more so when they continue to invite him to dinner and he isn't inclined on accepting.

But, his friend's letters are often a priority when he receives them. Though there is no set time limit of how long between each letter should be, they have the agreement that when there's time allowed that it's best to try and write. He finds his old friend's handwriting beautiful, concise with a precision that he sometimes finds himself in awe of. Mostly because his own handwriting, he'll admit, is a little on the messy side. This time, they even provided photographs of their own adventures and encounters with creatures, some of which he's already written about in his book.

While neither of them talks about themselves aside from their passions, Newt is always wondering and hoping they're doing well.

However, what really catches his attention on their last and most recent exchange of letters is a feather about a foot long that they've added to the envelope, along with the photographs.

It's a strange feather that shifts between blue and green, never quite settling on either color. Indecisive as the feather is, Newt pens, asking them from what beautiful creature the feather comes from and where might they possibly be as a way of trying to pinpoint where the creature's habitat is located. However, he pauses when he reads that he might not receive a letter from them for a while as something has come up that requires their attention.

He stands, reading the rest of the letter with a furrowed brow.

I am always happy when I receive your letters, Newt, but I am afraid I will be unavailable to properly write to you in the upcoming months. Something has come to my attention that will force me to travel and I am uncertain as to whether or not I would be able to continue writing the lovely letters that you and I have been exchanging.

If I must confess, it is because I think I might be in grave danger. I hope that my decision of becoming involved would speed up clearing the situation, somehow, and that I'd be able to return to the normal routine of my own adventures and exchanging letters with you.

And I will say that I am frightened.

But do not worry. I am with some Aurors who are skilled in what they're doing and that they should be able to help protect me if necessary. And I, myself, am quite skilled at some level of charms and magic that I should be able to run if I need to.

With this letter, I have attached a beautiful feather of a creature that I am sure you will most likely meet one day as my parting gift. It is my greatest treasure and I hope that by my gifting it to you that would motivate me to come to see you again to take it back.

Please take care of it for me until then.

Your Old Friend,

Athena

There's nothing else written on the letters to give any indication of where she is or where she might be. The level of danger is something he can't imagine when his mind goes to the worst-case scenario. Running a hand down his face, he sets the letter down on the table with a heavy sigh and sets about distracting himself by continuing his care for the magical creatures. But, he pauses just short of heading into the basement, casting a glance back at the letter before making his way down.

— x —

Newt decides one morning, several days later, that he wants to go somewhere where his brother and Leta can't find him, where he isn't constantly given reminders of his brother's success, and essentially, away from the norm of his magical creatures. He can never tire of caring for them, never, but with the ban on traveling placed on him, Newt is finding his restlessness more of a nervous tick.

His promise to Tina, for one, to come and deliver a copy of his book in person has been delayed for that reason. And it's been making him anxious. For reasons unknown, she's stopped writing him letters so mixed in with his old friend no longer writing to him for dangers also unknown, Newt decides to venture out into the muggle world for a spot of tea.

( Not really as he doesn't think he could ever have tea outside of the ones he makes at home. )

Still, he ventures out to find a local cafe on a corner of a street. It provides him ample opportunity to be able to watch the pedestrians that walk to and fro without seeming out of place. It's a temporary escape, he thinks ruefully, but something tells him that this is what he needed or else he'll go mad.

Or rather, maybe he's already gone mad because he's venturing out to a muggle cafe, of all places.

Newt is already regretting coming into this cafe—it's crowded, filled with people that are chattering loudly that he's having a difficult time thinking. He's about to step out of line when other people step behind him and he's compelled to commit. He stands awkwardly, wishing he had gone to another one, and maybe not a muggle one. He steps closer to a small female in front of him when he stiffens.

She smells of medicinal herbs and jasmines, a flower that's as foreign as the dark ebony locks that cascade down her shoulders and her back. But he blinks and the hair isn't as dark as he thought. It's a dark brown, matching to that of the other patrons of the cafe with a jacket that's as ordinary as a barn owl.

Newt frowns.

It's unlike him to mistaken scents, in particular, like jasmines on a stranger. Most especially since that's a particular scent that his old friend from his school years in Hogwarts used to wear. But nonetheless, it doesn't betray him that he had, indeed, taken a whiff of the particular scent.

She picks up her order of what he can only assume to be coffee and she walks by him, ducking her head in a submissive manner that lifts his brow in question, and continues on without so much as a glance. And then he's called up to be next in line that he's distracted with excusing himself, apologizing for holding up the line when he hears the familiar sound of his suitcase unlocking.

"Oh, bugger," he mutters, watching as his Niffler escapes out of the cafe and after the woman who smells of jasmine. Newt locks the suitcase and swerves around the crowded cafe and heads outside, glancing in the direction of where she's gone (and his Niffler).

He weaves through the crowds of people, following after the woman and his Niffler, who is surprisingly capable of dodging the feet of the humans that walked around them.

She pauses briefly at a crossroads and the Niffler looks back at Newt.

He mouths, "Don't you dare," before the Niffler jumps up and into her bag.

Part of Newt contemplates whatever item she has must've been particularly shiny and valuable if he's so apt at going after it.

He follows after her without seeming suspicious and falls back to avoid being seen, but realizing that in doing so, he sees someone else that's just ahead of him following after her. He looks like a muggle, based on how he's acting and he hasn't so much as withdrawn his hand for any use of a wand. He's dressed inconspicuously in a long black coat, a bowler hat that hid his face, and a grey scarf. Not wanting to take any chances, Newt pulls out his own wand and summons a large gust of wind to take his hat flying off his head.

With the follower distracted, Newt ducks into the same alley she goes into once she notices the stranger's hat has flown. When he reaches the same alleyway, a hand reaches for him and presses him against the wall. A forearm is pressed against his neck and he looks down to see the woman looking up at him with—and he stops short, disbelieving who he's seeing.

It's a dark brown gaze with tinges of auburn that it reminds him of a griffin's eyes. He's plunged into memories of the many hours they've spent in the Hufflepuff common room, pouring over textbooks and papers for their respective classes. Her gaze a never-ending font of reassurance and compassion when her glare melts into surprise.

"Newt."

His own eyes widened in surprise when her appearance shimmers and a lithe woman is staring back at him. It's not the teenage girl he remembers from Hogwarts, but a woman with her features—older, womanly, and with a harder gaze than the softness he recollected from their school years.

"Athena," he breathes.

She loosens her hand on his neck and before she could say another word, the approaching footsteps that echo along the alleyway forces them to apparate.

They land on the rooftop nearby, away from the view of Muggles and she lets him go.

Athena paces the rooftop, checking to make sure the coast is clear before she speaks. She runs a hand through her hair that's quickly turning from a dark brown to black strands. "What were you thinking? I could've hurt you!" Her unassuming appearance of an ordinary woman shifts into a woman with ebony hair loosely draped around her shoulders and down into her jacket. Almond-shaped eyes stare back at him with skin as fair as his own if his own skin weren't covered in freckles.

"I didn't think it'd be the case," he replies, his gaze looking down at the ground, contemplating how he would've gotten out of that situation. Quite frankly, it's reminiscent of Tina apparating him after his confrontation with Jacob.

She's still the same size as she was in school, he notes when he sees her pacing, walking back over to him with her arms crossed across her chest.

Before she has the chance to open her mouth again, he says, "I was chasing after a Niffler that's happened to stow away in your bag."

Athena pauses, shifting her weight so that the bag comes to the front of her person and there, a Niffler peeks his head out and for a moment, he wonders if she's stopped breathing.

"Oh," she quietly gasps, sounding genuinely astonished, "I didn't think I'd ever meet a Niffler."

The Niffler seems amused and crawls up her arm to sit on her shoulder. She giggles, both of her hands reaching for the creature.

"He has a habit of escaping and... stealing things."

She frowns, turning to the Niffler. "And what were you trying to steal from me?" Newt feels a warmth swell in his chest when he watches her interacting with the Niffler. One of her hands is holding the Niffler for support and the other trying to get a feel for them.

The Niffler has the grace to look abashed. They turn in their place on her shoulder to focus their paws on her wrist and pulls back her sleeve to reveal a beautifully crafted jade bracelet with what would've been cracks are held together by gold veins. Along those veins are flowers painted in gold, giving the bracelet an ornate, elegant, and extravagant design.

Newt doesn't remember Athena ever owning something as luxurious as that. Or rather, the jade bracelet he's accustomed to seeing on her is inlaid with hints of crimson.

She pulls her hand back, hiding it under the sleeves of her coat and the Niffler holds onto her. She wraps a hand under its arms and holds them in her own arms and avoids looking at him, which is a strange behavior as he doesn't remember Athena being evasive.

Setting down his suitcase, he offers up his hands and she lifts the Niffler off her shoulder and sets him there. The weight is welcome in his grip, but he keeps the Niffler there when he doesn't struggle, only looking questionably up at Athena. From the corner of his eye, he can see her pouting from having to part so soon and the sight has his mouth twitch.

In some ways, she's still very much the same.

"You haven't changed."

She looks up from the Niffler to him and she smiles warmly in a way that's nostalgic.

"Neither have you."

He kneels down and sets the suitcase to open. Dropping the Niffler back inside, he closes it with a quick tap. After locking it, he stands. Focusing his attention on her shoulder, Newt contemplates the next round of questions he has for her when she speaks up first.

"Did you feel adventurous and come out for a spot of tea in the muggle world or did you venture out because of another magical creature?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Neither, actually," he responds.

She lifted a brow but takes a step closer, enough that her voice can drop in volume. "Just felt like it then? How very brave of you."

"Be amused all you like, Athena, but I have my reasons."

"But it's so unlike you!" Athena giggles, her hand lifts to cover her mouth. "If I didn't know better, I would've thought you've gone mad!"

His mouth twitches, her mirth contagious.

"I'll be inclined to agree, but you'll have to understand—my predicament has left me rather restless," he explains, shifting his body weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh?" She muffles the rest of her laughter. "I'm sorry." She senses the change in the atmosphere. Newt notes that she always seems to, regardless of how subtle. It's a talent of hers that he finds almost magical in itself.

Newt relaxes, feeling at ease with the instant re-connection. He hasn't heard her laugh in a long time and it's as though they've gone back in time. But, his hand tightens around the handle of the suitcase.

"Thanks."

"But, going mad? What's happened to drive you mad?"

His grip tightens and relaxes. "Did-Did I not mention the reason why in my letters?"

Athena's smile fades and she crosses her arms across her chest with her hand to her chin. She hums in contemplation. "You've mentioned it." She closes her eyes and then reopens. "But, you didn't tell me very much." She pauses, her brow furrowing. "Though, you were a little more frantic in your letters, sounding frustrated because you couldn't leave."

He tightens and loosens his grip on the briefcase again. His head angles sideways, as if shrugging, but his gaze is pinned to her shoulder. "Yes, well, I wanted to personally deliver her a copy of my book—she was kind enough to help me when I was visiting New York."

"Ah," she says, nodding in understanding. "But, I hope that the ban lifts for you soon so you may go and see your friend."

Is it just him, or did something just shift?

"But, enough about me," Newt says with a shake of his head, glancing around. "What about you? Why are you in danger, Athena?"

He suddenly feels conflicted when she tenses. Coupled with concern, despite the fact he's happy to see her again after more than ten years of having seen her last, Newt wonders what could be so dangerous that she's stopped writing. The fact he has to bring it up, see her become tense, makes him uneasy. "Why do you have a muggle following you?"

He sees her rubbing her wrist.

"What happened to the Aurors that are supposed to be with you?" he continues when she hasn't responded.

When she still says nothing, he looks up to find her paler than she was moments ago.

"Athena?"

"You don't need to worry about it, Newt," she says at last, her voice solemn and quiet, and he can't quite recall when her voice is quite so somber.

"Where are the aurors?" he asks with a little more urgency, but winces, not one to trust them in the first place. Newt looks around again to find no one nearby.

When she doesn't answer him, again, Newt turns to her and looks pointedly. "Athena, whatever danger you're in has to be bad if you have Aurors protecting you."

There's a flash of anger behind her eyes and frustration. Both of which he recognizes and can see when her hair starts taking a brighter hue of red. "I'm well aware of that," she says, her voice surprisingly calm despite her obvious mood.

She takes a breath and the color in her hair turns back to the dark locks. "I'm sorry, Newt, I really am, but this isn't any of your business—so please, just pretend you didn't see me." Newt averts his gaze, looking down by her shoulder. She pauses, reflecting when he's quiet. Her voice is soft when she speaks again. "I'm sorry, truly, but I can't involve you more than I already have. You have your life here and I don't want to be a reason that disrupts it."

He's remembering those years in Hogwarts and what she's done for him.

"Athena, wait—" He looks up.

And she's gone.

— x —

Newt is bewildered by how quickly she appears and disappears since he's heard nothing from her since their conversation and nothing appears in the Daily Prophet. It's the first time in years, and already, there are changes happening that he isn't sure he even likes. For years, she's been his faithful pen-pal, a friend from school (as he's used to knowing her as), and fellow compatriot in the learning of the magical creatures that they both love.

Now, something's changed.

He tries to reason that she's a capable person, recollecting her talents from her school years, but he realizes that he doesn't know her like he used to. He remembers her habits, her bad ones, and her general antics when they were in their school years.

But, that's the thing—school years. They haven't been students in over a decade. So, he doesn't know what those habits are now or what she's been up to.

He's in his flat, digging through the assortment of letters they've sent one another over the years and his gaze skim each of their contents. The first few letters are of her asking how he's doing since his expulsion, and he can only imagine his responses. Hurt, bitterness, and betrayal—feelings that are now a dull ache in his chest as he absently rubs, clenching his jaw as it resembles the feelings he has now for Leta's engagement to his brother.

He skips over her questions about how he's doing and what's the general news of the school. But he frowns, looking over the dates between after his expulsion and when summer vacation should've started. She isn't consistent in her replies and it's confirmed in the letters in the later months that came as scheduled. A few days to a few weeks at a time and then he recollects that year.

Or at least, he tries.

All he remembers is the assortment of investigations that they've done together and the magical creatures that they cared for.

No, that's wrong.

The palm of his hand presses against his eye, trying to remember what that year had been like. It's the year Leta had been adamant about an assortment of experiments and fascinating projects she wanted to try. And while he's trying to help Leta in her experiments, Athena was there to pick up the pieces of the experiment when it ended.

He remembers late nights with the table in the common room filled with assignments, whispered jokes between the three of them, and sharing the details of the magical creatures that had fallen under their care.

It's useless, he thinks ruefully. He couldn't remember if anything changed that year that would constitute the lapse in letters. Especially toward the end of the year when he took Leta's place for what should've been her expulsion. Running a hand through his hair, he surmises that he has no choice but to go and see Theseus after he discovers the recent letters tell him nothing of what she's currently working on.

Surely, his brother would be able to better assist him in finding out information?

But the thought doesn't sit well with him since that means he has to visit him at the Ministry of Magic.

— x —

Going to the Ministry of Magic left a feeling of discomfort, a stark reminder of how his travel ban has yet to be lifted and is constantly denied. But he's already inquired ahead that he wanted to see Theseus, even if it's during the hours he works. Oddly, in spite of the fact that he's sure Theseus would be otherwise occupied, he's agreed to see him.

As he navigates through the myriad of halls and departments, he finally makes his way to where Theseus' office is situated. The door is left ajar and Theseus is currently talking to someone he's never seen before. Newt idles for a moment, Pickett peeking out from the pocket of his jacket.

"I'm sorry, Pickett—not now," he murmurs to the bowtruckle, gently pressing his hand on top of the creature's head.

Pickett chirps but does as Newt asks.

Taking a breath, he knocks on the door before he could change his mind.

Theseus and the stranger looked to the door and Newt averts his gaze, focusing on the floor. He briefly flicks his attention up to the man in question: stocky in build, but tall with a sharply cut face and strong jawline. He isn't a familiar face in all of his visits here to the Ministry, and he won't be the last.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Scamander, I best be heading off," the man says to Theseus. His tone is brisk. "You have the reports and I trust that you'll look them over to be on the lookout on your next round."

"Yes, sir." Theseus nods, and they exchange another set of glances before the man leaves.

Now left alone, Theseus smiles, and the tension slowly rolls out of his posture in a slow wave. "Newt," he greets, coming over to give him a brief hug.

Newt stiffly grunts, acknowledging the hug but does nothing with his arms at his sides and Theseus pulls away. With an easy-going smile, he moves off to his desk and while rifling through the documents, he asks, "Is there anything I can do for you? It's peculiar that you'd ask to see me when you've been rather..." He drifts off, but Newt knows what he's going to ask.

Clearing his throat when Newt doesn't answer after a long pause, Theseus regards Newt with the cross of his arms across his chest.

"Anyway, it's not often you see me, and while I am happy to see you, I don't think this is a happy visit."

"No, not really," Newt agrees, bowing his head. "I've-I've come to ask for a favor."

There's a pause. Theseus seems to mull the idea over and he sighs. Newt swallows his discomfort in asking his brother for much of anything but is willing to do so because Athena herself won't share the details.

"Only because it's you, Newt. But, you're going to need to tell me what you need if I am to help you with—" he makes a frown, "—whatever you need help with. So?" He pauses, holding out his hands before crossing his arms and leaning against his desk. "What's the favor?"

Fixing his attention on the assortment of things on Theseus' desk (a picture frame that he darts over and not daring to see the picture, some pots for his ink, his quill, and a few bins with an assortment of documents), he speaks clearly. "Have you heard of any auror deaths recently?"

Though he doesn't need to see Theseus, he knows his smile is gone and his posture grows still.

"Do I want to know where you found that information?"

"An old friend showed up, but she made mention that she had aurors protecting her," Newt explains, clenching and relaxing his hands in a fist. "While we were conversing, I didn't see any of them nearby."

Theseus loudly sighs, seemingly frustrated. "The fact that you know some Aurors are dead makes me wonder if this friend of yours is dangerous." Theseus moves from his spot in front of his desk to stand behind it.

Newt, sensing the change in the conversation, moves forward until he stands in front of Theseus.

He shuffles through his paperwork to find what he's looking for, though he explains as he digs what he knows. "They weren't escorting a prisoner, so your friend isn't dangerous, but she's definitely in danger. They all died by the Killing Curse and they had no identification on them for us to help identify who they are—oh." His brows furrow when his gaze skims over the documents he holds in his hand.

Then he pauses, lifting his gaze to Newt and he lifts his gaze to meet his brother's.

"Newt, I don't think it's a good idea for you to meet with this friend of yours anymore, but—" he rubs the back of his neck, "—you'll probably do it anyway." He sighs.

If it's for Athena, Newt will try.

"How many?"

"Five."

Newt focuses his attention on the desk, clenching his jaw. He's trying to fight the overwhelming concern for Athena's safety, especially when she doesn't seem to want it. In fact, it seems adamant she doesn't need it.

Well, not if he could help it.

"Newt, I don't recommend going after her—not if you want your travel ban lifted."

Newt lifts his gaze, his jaw set. He's determined and nothing's going to change his mind, but the reminder of his travel ban, and in turn, Tina, has him stiffen in response. Though he may be lacking in the proper societal means of understanding the convoluted manipulation of people, he knows when he's being led to something he doesn't like.

"But, I can help you—if you join us, then we can get that travel ban revoked."

Again, he clenches his jaw. "Whatever for?"

"You have a way with people—you can help us."

"Help you?" Newt pulls away from Theseus as he approaches him, brows furrowed in confusion. He shakes his head. While the idea of the travel ban being lifted is alluring, Newt could not reason with his distrust of the Aurors. While Theseus may be the closest thing to someone he trusts in that regard, he is, in no way, ever going to become one.

Theseus draws back, leaning back against his desk with a heavy sigh. He crosses his arms, looking aggrieved and frustrated he couldn't say anything more. "Look, just-just trust me on this, Newt."

"I'm not sure if I can if you don't tell me what it is I ought to be helping you with." But then, he shakes his head again. "Thank you, Theseus, for your help."

Without looking, he stiffly bows his head and turns, leaving Theseus' office.

"Newt, wait."

Newt doesn't look back as he strides out of the halls of the Ministry. Theseus manages to catch up to him as he enters the lift that leads to the main lobby. The younger Scamander sighs but focuses his attention forward and his hand on one of the handles. The attendant inside regards them with a look.

"Where to?" the attendant drawls.

"Main floor, please," Newt says before Theseus has a chance to change it.

"Look," Theseus begins, realizing his time is short, "I know the job isn't glamorous, but we could really use you. You're—" Theseus tries to come up with a word that fits the criteria, "—sharp-witted and you can think outside of the box."

Somehow, Newt thinks that's the biggest compliment his older brother's managed to say. Still, it doesn't change his mind any. There's absolutely no reason for him to become an Auror, simply just to revoke his travel ban.

"Ground floor," a disembodied voice spoke, cleanly ending the conversation before Newt has the opportunity to respond.

Not that he wants to.

He cast one fleeting look in his brother's direction. "Again, thank you, Theseus." And he quickly disembarks the lift before his brother has a chance to say anything more. Moving swiftly through the huge crowd of wizards and witches coming and going to their respective departments, he's vaguely aware of hearing the sound of his brother calling his name.

He exits outside in the inconspicuous red phone booth, stepping out as he moves back out onto the main street.

If there's anything he remembers about Athena, it's that if she's here away from home, then she's here for a purpose. He supposes London is as good of a city as any to find her.