Confrontation
Newt sighed as he collapsed into the chair at his desk within the magically-crafted office-shed within his case. He tilted his head to rest against the back of the chair, staring at the rafters as he thought.
Albus had asked Thee to avoid conflict during the possible rally Grindelwald had planned. It wasn’t unreasonable to ask, either, both Newt and Thee had agreed after their cousin had left the cafe and the brothers had returned to the Hunt department. They had discussed it further with Percy and the American Auror had actually agreed with Albus’ words, pointing out that although they were hunting Gellert, the risk to civilians should they try and arrest him at the rally was too great to justify; it also, Percy had added with a displeased expression, give Grindelwald a martyr-like status for those at the rally that could benefit him in the long-term.
If they were able to arrest him before the rally, or after it when most of the civilians would hopefully not be present, that was a different matter. Percy had tasked Thee to come up with contingencies for those possibilities before turning his attention to Newt and assigning four Aurors to accompany him to the Parisian catacombs tomorrow.
The Aurors – Junior Aurors Matilda Oberlander, Yoshino Itsuki, Fahd el-Sadi, and Senior Auror Agnieszka Mrozińska – had all been more than willing to do as Percy ordered. Auror Mrozińska had also made it clear that she wouldn’t allow Newt to put himself at risk while they investigated the catacombs and that she would hex him if he ignored her orders. Had it not been for Newt’s magic, he might have assumed the Polish Auror disliked him, but it seemed that she was a very no-nonsense person who didn’t tolerate anyone who ignored personal safety.
Percy, Newt knew, had absolutely chosen Auror Mrozińska to accompany Newt to the catacombs on purpose for this exact reason. He could have been offended or annoyed at the fact Percy had chosen Auror Mrozińska for this reason, but Newt understood where the American Auror’s actions stemmed from.
Worry.
For Newt.
Just as Newt’s actions stemmed from worry for Percy when the American Auror went out in the field without Newt accompanying him – though that was a surprisingly rare occurrence considering the fact Newt had a lot of contacts that proved useful for the Hunt – and had taken to subtly layering Percy with protective wards that no-one other than he could sense, alter, or dismantle unless Newt wished it. If Percy could do the same, Newt was well-aware that he would whether Newt approved or not.
Thee had the same style of wards on him too and, after the visit today, so too did Albus.
Newt might not be able to do anything if the distance was too great should the wards react on any of them, but they would alert him that something was happening and allow him to at least contact someone who could help.
Mother and father, too, had wards on them though Newt’s mother seemed to have noticed them when Newt had cast them which still intrigued Newt because Nafre Scamander had never acted like she could sense wards or rune-work. Of course, Newt took after his mother in a number of ways, not only in his affinity towards creatures – magical and mundane – but, if Newt’s mother could sense wards – even ones that no-one should be able to sense except the one casting – then his magical sensitivity could have been inherited from her.
Newt tilted his head. “Huh,” he said quietly, blinking. “I never thought about that.”
‘I need to visit mother and find out if what my magic has been doing is really as unusual as I think it is,’ Newt thought, somewhat amused at the realisation that his mother might be able to give him answers that no-one else seemed able to. ‘Mother always did say that she and Aunt Kendra were skilled in unusual ways. I always thought that she meant her affinity for creatures and Aunt Kendra’s surprisingly accurate palmistry.’
A chirp and whistle drew Newt’s gaze down from the rafters, over to the left-side of the office-shed. Perched on the window that Newt often looked out of to survey the enclosure of the Kelpie he’d rescued last year – Anastasia had refused to leave after he’d treated the poor thing’s sea-mange and she was all healed up, ready for release back in the Loch Newt had found her in – was one of the newest additions to Newt’s varied assortment of creatures. Gandaberunda birds were rare even in their native lands and this one in particular had been rescued only a month prior during one of the many raids that Newt had participated with while hunting for Grindelwald. Outside of India, Newt had only come across two other Gandaberunda birds – both bonded to Indian families that treated them with the respect and trust Newt wished others could treat creatures with. The one in Newt’s case still had a few weeks left before he was fully recovered and Newt could organise a trip to India to release him. Newt had been hesitant to name him as that often resulted in creatures prone to bonding to remain with the one who named them but his worry had been assuaged after some correspondence with his contact in India who had clarified that if the Gandaberunda bird had wanted to bond to Newt it would have done so without a name already. So, with that knowledge, Newt has hesitantly tried a series of names – several suggested by Dayaram in his letter – before the Gandaberunda had responded positively to the name Bishan.
Newt had bothered a local Muggle library to look up the name and was fascinated to find it was related to the Hindi god Vishnu, though the books in the small library had been disappointingly lacking much more information beyond that really. Newt had already written to Dayaram updating his friend on the name choice and to request more information about it since Newt’s interest had been piqued by it. From what Dayaram had implied – and what Newt already knew – Gandaberunda birds weren’t prone to choosing names that had no meaning behind them. The more Newt knew about the name that Bishan-the- Gandaberunda-bird had chosen for himself, the more prepared Newt could be to handle his needs and plan his eventual release in a few weeks.
“You shouldn’t be out of your enclosure, Bishan,” Newt reprimanded lightly, rising from his chair and heading over to the window. Bishan’s vibrant tail feathers glittered in the magical sunlight filtering through the window. “Did Teddy let you out?” He asked, looking around the office-shed for the menace of a Niffler that had long stolen Newt’s heart.
Bishan’s twin sets of eyes stared at Newt with all the disdain an avian was capable of producing and Newt laughed.
“Okay, okay,” he said, reaching out and offering his hand to Bishan’s dual heads to examine. He didn’t reach out to pet the regal creature – well-aware that Bishan decided if he deigned to lower himself to being fussed by Newt – and instead kept his hand still for Bishan’s beaks to prod and nuzzle before Bishan’s right head dropped and nudged up into his open hand. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, am I forgiven, hmm?”
Bishan’s left head ruffled the feathers on its head and let out a small chirp.
“Ah,” Newt mused, nodding his own head. “I see,” he said, “I’m only forgiven if I give you extra treats. I see.”
Bishan let out dual-toned chirps of approval at Newt’s words making him laugh. ‘Wrapped around your tail-feathers, aren’t I, hmm,’ Newt thought fondly, continuing to pet Bishan’s right head as he reached up with his other hand and offered Bishan’s left head chin scratches. Newt stood there for longer than he should have allowed Bishan to keep him there for, fussing over the Gandaberunda bird until a soft chiming sound emanated from the stairs leading to the trap-door up to the exit from the office-shed in his case and out to the world around it.
“Ah, apologies Bishan,” Newt said, truly regretful to stop fussing the creature. “But I have to go answer that.”
Bishan’s left head ruffled its feathers in offence while his right head nudged Newt’s hand again, blatantly begging for more attention. Newt shook his head. He used his magic, reaching out with it to gently return Bishan to his habitat before the Gandaberunda bird could continue trying to guilt Newt into ignoring his other responsibilities.
A glance around his office-shed and Newt twitched his left hand, wand summoned in a moment, and cast several spells in rapid succession before turning to the stairs and leaving his case. In Bishan’s enclosure, the Gandaberunda bird now had a brand new, interactive device that would give him all the pets and chin scritches he could stand whenever Newt was unavailable. The faint dual chirps of delight Newt heard just before he left the case let him know of Bishan’s approval of the device. Newt smiled.
He left his case, snapping it shut with a flick of his wand, and turned his attention to what had called him away from his creatures.
‘Why do I feel like it’s not a good thing, whatever it is,’ Newt thought as he came face-to-face with a harried-looking Percy.
“What is it?” Newt asked the American Auror immediately, his magic reaching out and curling around Percy without Newt’s prompting. The whirlwind of not-panic surrounding Percy lessened the moment Newt’s magic touched the American Auror’s, and Newt shivered at the sensory input he received.
“Grindelwald has sent out a call for a rally already,” Percy told him, wasting no time in heading over to their shared wardrobe, wrenching it open, and digging out his duelling coat. Newt found the appearance of the coat to accentuate all of Percy’s already imposing presence. It looked good on the American Auror. “We need to go.”
Newt nodded, summoning his coat with his wand. “Thee?”
“Organising the teams at the department now,” Percy replied. “Valère is manning the department to co-ordinate while we are going to attend his rally,” Percy continued, face twisting into a dark expression at the prospect of seeing Grindelwald in person again. “Thee will lead a team to surround the rally point. Engagement is not approved unless absolutely necessary. The purpose is to record the attendees, put names to as many faces as possible, and disrupt Grindelwald’s recruitment without resorting to violence.”
“And if Grindelwald attacks us?” Newt asked. The question was redundant really, considering the fact that none of them would just stand idly by if Grindelwald attacked them, but it had to be asked nonetheless.
“If he can be apprehended, if not then retreat is the order.” Percy paused in his journey to the bedroom door, Newt following him and forced to stop in his tracks as Percy turned sharply to stare at Newt. “I don’t want to lose anyone to him,” Percy told him seriously. “Especially not you.”
Newt reached out and gripped Percy’s hand. “I don’t want to lose you either,” Newt said, voice firm and layered with a hint of danger he rarely let out. “He’s not allowed to take you from me,” Newt promised. His magic wrapped around them both, heavy enough that Percy clearly picked up on it as the American Auror twitched at the intensity of Newt’s magic. “I won’t let him near you ever again.”
“Careful, Mister Scamander,” Percy said, voice as low as his eyes were dark. “You sound like you might commit murder.”
Newt’s magic flared. Percy’s eyes widened.
“There’s no ‘might’ about it, Mister Graves,” Newt promised. “He will not touch you again.”
Percy’s entire being bled shock-heat-fire-fear-light through Newt’s magic. “Fuck.” The American Auror closed his eyes and forcefully breathed out a slow, measured breath. “After this is over,” he said after he opened his eyes and stared at Newt again, “we’re not leaving this room for a week.”
Newt laughed. “Promises,” he said, letting go of Percy’s arm, forcibly pulling his magic back from where it had nestled around Percy’s entire being like it belonged there – and Newt absolutely wasn’t going to address that until he’d spoken with his mother. “Let’s go disrupt Gellert’s recruitment rally. I’d quite like the opportunity to insult him in front of an audience. You surely want to as well,” Newt quipped, grinning sharply as Percy snorted and turned back to the bedroom door.
“I want to turn him inside out and make him bathe in salt water,” Percy replied darkly.
Newt hummed, following Percy through the house to the front doors. “Hot salt water,” he said, elaborating when Percy glanced over his shoulder at him as they walked out the front doors and headed down the path to the gates from where they could apparate to the Woolworth Building and take the international portkey already waiting for them – if Percy’s orders had been followed by the MACUSA International Portkey Department. “Salt water is painful yes, but to exposed, nerve-heavy tissue, hot water is agonising on another level. Taking a bath in magma would be less painful than hot salt water.” Newt shrugged.
“How do you even know that?” Percy asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Magma kills the nerves from the extreme heat, so the pain would be intense for a few seconds, a minute at most perhaps, whereas with hot salt water you can manipulate the temperature to maximise pain without overly compromising the exposed nerves by essentially cauterising them” Newt responded, pausing in his explanation as they apparated to just outside the Woolworth Building. It was just reaching end of the work day in New York, Newt realised as they made their way through MACUSA security and straight up to the International Portkey Department. It was likely almost midnight in Paris with the... six-hour time difference. Newt expected Grindelwald to have chosen an earlier time for his rally but, then again, the point of the rally was to recruit those who could be swayed and the allure of a late-night meeting was more appealing than a mid-day one. As little as Newt liked Grindelwald, he could at least recognise that the man wouldn’t actively involve children in his pursuit of waging war and destroying those he considered lesser. Not at this point, at least. Grindelwald probably wouldn’t ignore the benefit of indoctrinating children to his way of thinking eventually but the dark wizard needed grown witches and wizards for his cause now.
“Magma can be anywhere from seven-hundred-degrees-Celsius to one-thousand-three-hundred-degrees-Celsius, hence why it can kill so quickly,” Newt continued, as they made their way through MACUSA. “The boiling point of water is one-hundred-degrees-Celsius but nerves die at less than half that temperature. So salt water at a temperature of around forty-degrees-Celsius can cause excruciating pain without killing the nerves exposed by turning someone inside out.”
A snort caused Newt’s attention to shift away from the theoretical discussion and focus on Percy and their surroundings. Newt realised they’d reached the International Portkey Department. The clerk sat in front of Newt and Percy, who clearly had been expecting them judging by the pre-filled out parchment next to the assigned portkey, was staring at Newt in abject horror that Newt’s magic easily picked up on. Newt blinked and looked at Percy who was also staring at Newt. The way Percy stared at Newt, however, was vastly different to the clerk. Newt’s magic let Newt know exactly what Percy’s stare meant. Heat flared on his cheeks and Newt looked down at the desk in front of them where an innocuous-looking garden-glove lay.
Percy’s stare and what it meant distracted Newt for a moment before he realised just what he’d said and what the clerk had clearly heard Newt say.
“I’m not going to ask why,” Percy said lowly, drawing Newt’s gaze back up to the American Auror. “But we need to table this discussion for a later time.”
“Ah,” Newt said in a tone that distinctly conveyed the awkward sense of ‘oops’ often uttered when a parent caught their child doing something ill-advised. Percy’s lips twitched. “It was... just a- a thought exercise, anyway.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the clerk looked like he distinctly did not believe Newt at all. Newt bit back a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat of an embarrassed flush tinging the back of his neck as surely as it did his face.
Percy picked up the garden-glove and moved over to the nearest portkey bay. Newt followed.
“You’re going to tell Thee about this, aren’t you?” Newt asked quietly, resigned to it already, as he and Percy stood facing each other, each gripping the garden-glove while Percy readied to activate the portkey. Percy’s lips twitched again. “Fine,” Newt sighed.
Percy flicked his wand. The portkey activated. One moment they were in New York, then reality shifted. Space, time, mass, reality itself, warped and rebuilt itself in less time than it took an electron to spin around a nucleus. They stood in the Portkey department of ICW Headquarters.
Valère was there, waiting for them, and they wasted no time in following the French Auror to the Hunt department, where Thee was directing Aurors.
“God speed,” Valère said to Newt and Percy. “Don’t die. Catch him if you can. Don’t let anyone kill you.”
“Isn’t that the same as ‘don’t die’?” Newt asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Not really,” Valère replied. “You die, you die. If you let someone kill you, I’ll drag you back and kill you myself.”
Newt snorted.
“Location?” Percy asked, drawing Newt’s attention to him and Thee who had turned to focus on Percy and Newt.
“Confirmed it’s in the Catacombs,” Thee replied immediately. “Best guess is that there’s a path that prospective recruits will be able to follow, but we don’t know for certain.”
“He may have spelled the route to only show for those who want to hear him,” Valère warned.
Newt tilted his head. “I can work around that,” he said seriously. Thee, Percy, and Valère all looked at him. “I did it in the warehouse,” Newt explained, looking at Thee and Percy directly. They both tensed at the mention of the warehouse. “I know how to mirror what a spell or charm looks for to bypass them. If Grindelwald has done something similar with the rally, I can lead us.”
Thee blinked. “Is that a teachable skill?”
Newt shrugged. “Somewhat,” he answered his brother. “Some can learn it, some can’t. I have a natural talent for it apparently.”
“Fascinating,” Valère said. “I would like to learn if possible.”
“I’ll see if I can teach you,” Newt promised, rolling his eyes and looking at his brother. “You too, stop trying to look pathetic, it’s weird.”
“Focus,” Percy cut in. Newt nodded. “Let’s go. If you have to lead us, then that’s what happens. If it’s possible to reach the rally point without it, go with the pre-agreed plan Theseus,” he said, looking at Thee who nodded. “Valère—”
“I’ve got communication spells with every team leader, yourself, and Newt also already prepared,” Valère cut Percy off, accepting Percy’s nod of approval. “They’ll activate the moment you’re in the Catacombs. The magic of the Catacombs may affect them, but we’ve used these spells down there before and the worst we’ve had is like listening to the radio with interference.”
“Do you have focusing items for the spells?” Newt asked.
Valère shook his head. “Non.”
“If there’s interference, that may be reduced if you cast the communication spells on specific items rather than the general person,” Newt suggested. “That’s how I was able to speak to Generio when the magical forest interfered with our communication in New Guinea.”
“Wands?” Thee suggested. Newt shook his head. “What then?”
“Something closer to the head is better,” Newt explained. “Headpiece, earring, a tie. Something near to the ears and mouth, basically.”
Valère nodded. “I have an idea,” he said before aiming his wand at a quill-holder. There were four quills inside it that transfigured under Valère’s magic, shifting and becoming thin, golden chains with small quill-shaped charms hanging from them. “I’ll transfigure more so there’s enough and lock the communication spells on these. Each of the team leads and yourselves can wear on with sticking charms.”
Percy nodded. “Good idea,” he said, taking one when Valère offered one of the chains.
Newt and Thee likewise took one, putting them on and using temporary sticking charms as well. Newt tucked his under the collar of his shirt, Thee staring at him for a moment before doing the same. Percy had already tucked his behind his tie. “If they’re noticed, it might be assumed they’re for a reason and I don’t want to think about what Grindelwald or his followers might do to get them from us,” Newt explained.
“I’ll make sure the others hide theirs, also,” Valère assured before leaving them to go transfigure more quills and distribute the necklaces.
“Thee,” Newt said, reaching out to grab his brother’s arm before he followed Valère. “I need to talk to you for a moment.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “Now?” He asked, obviously curious. Newt nodded. “Don’t be long.”
Newt nodded and watched as Percy followed after Valère, wand still in hand.
“What is it, Newt?” Thee asked, voice low. “Is something wrong?”
Newt shook his head, paused mid-shake, then shrugged. “Probably, maybe,” he said. “I need to try and get close to Grindelwald tonight,” he told his brother, holding up a hand to stave off Thee’s automatic response that definitely would have been fuck no. Newt honestly agreed with that, but he had a promise to keep. “Albus asked me for help. It’s not ideal, but this might be the only chance I have to get what he asked me to for him.”
“What?”
If Albus had been in the room at the moment, Newt knew that Thee would have foregone using magic and would have used his fists to murder this cousin. Protective older brothers.
“Albus and Gellert made a blood oath to not harm each other before Ariana died,” Newt told his brother, blunt and to the point even as he kept his voice low. “Albus doesn’t want to have to fight Gellert but right now he physically can’t because of the blood oath.”
Thee opened his mouth and Newt cut him off.
“Gellert stole it after Ariana died.”
Thee closed his mouth.
“He’s already asked me not to put myself in too much danger trying to get it,” Newt continued, softening his voice. Thee, if nothing else, would appreciate that Albus didn’t want Newt to put himself at risk for the blood oath, even if his brother would still want to beat their cousin for asking him this in the first place. “I can try and use Teddy but if Gellert has any protections on him that prevent Teddy, I might be the only one who can get it.”
“Why you?” Thee asked, tone plaintive. “Newt, why you?”
Newt bit his lip. “Because my magic is different,” he finally told his brother, confessed something he’d been hiding from Thee for months now. Something Newt knew his brother had noticed; maybe not what exactly Newt had been hiding but Thee had noticed Newt had been hiding something from his brother in a way Newt had never really hidden anything from his brother. “Albus noticed it too. I can do things that shouldn’t be possible. It- the potion- when it exploded in the warehouse- it did something Thee. I think... I think I might be the only one who can get the blood oath from Gellert without him realising its missing right away.”
Thee stared at him. “Newt.”
A noise caused them both to look away from each other, over at the origin where Percy was standing next to Valère, obviously waiting for them both to finish talking. Newt took a deep breath.
“Later,” he promised, looking back at his brother. Thee gave him a dark look. “I promise,” Newt said, emphasising his promise by reaching out with his magic and purposefully poking Thee’s own magic.
Thee flinched, his whole body recoiling at the unexpected sensation. “Wha- that- was that?” He asked, eyes wide. Newt nodded. “Okay,” he breathed slowly. “Okay. After.”
Newt nodded again. “Let’s go cause Gellert some problems,” he joked, causing Thee to smile at him.
“If you manage to make him trip over his own shoelaces, I’ll do your parchment-work for a week,” Thee said, smile turning into a grin that Newt returned.
“Deal.”
Newt ignored the churning worry and fear the prospect of explaining how his magic was different to Thee after they dealt with Grindelwald’s rally. He ignored it because this was his brother. If there was no-one else in this world that Newt could always trust, then it was Thee.
“There’s a lot more people attending this than I thought there’d be,” Percy said, voice low, as he walked beside Newt, following the direction of the small crowd that had gathered near the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise. The entrance to the Catacombs seemed to have opened itself near the ancestral tomb of the Lestrange family. Newt only knew about the Lestrange Tomb because of Leta. Leta who had been his friend. Leta who Thee liked and had mentioned considering marrying after the war.
It hadn’t come up again and Newt hadn’t wanted to bring it up with his brother; memories of Leta from school still awkward and painful because of the choices made. Still, Newt stopped walking to stare at the dark, spelled doors that led to the crypts of Leta’s family, Percy stopping beside him and following Newt’s gaze to the doors.
‘I hope Leta doesn’t come to this,’ he thought, hoped really, shaking his head when Percy looked at him quizzically. ‘I don’t know how Thee will react if she’s here, listening to Gellert.’
“There’s been a general sense of discontent in Europe because of the war,” Newt said quietly as they began moving again. There were a handful of Aurors scattered among the crowd, dressed more casually than they usually did, though all of them had duelling armour beneath their coats and robes – hidden from sight but not from Newt’s magic – in case they had to fight. “It’s what he’s tapping into. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has something planned to scare everyone who attends into thinking he’s the only one who can do anything to make things better.”
Percy hummed in agreement. “I agree.” The American Auror looked around at the crowd, frowning slightly. “So how do we get inside? The crowd seems to be just walking around. None of them appear to have any clue where to go.”
Newt looked around at the crowd, studying their movements. He focused his gaze on a witch off to his right, eyes narrowing as he drew on his magic. An almost tendril-like curl of his magic reached out to the witch, not touching her or her own magic, it instead curled around her. For a moment, Newt felt the world shift and his awareness change before he continued breathing and the world returned to normal for him.
He drew his magic back from the witch, fingers of his right-hand twitching as he processed what his magic had told him.
“There’s a safeguard in place,” Newt said quietly, angling his head toward Percy so it looked like they were just sharing their thoughts about the rally to anyone who looked their way. “That witch,” he continued, not looking in her direction or indicating her in any way but Percy’s eyes flicked quickly in her direction before returning to Newt, “is watching the crowd. She’s not alone, there’s probably others too.”
“What is she looking for?”
Newt quirked an eyebrow. “Us. She’s got some sort of alert on her so we can’t remove her and I don’t know if she knows any of us by sight or is just looking for specific indicators.”
Percy’s frown deepened for a moment before it faded and a more neutral expression took over his features. “Specific indicators?” Newt nodded. “Like what? Au—”
“Don’t say it,” Newt cut in quickly, not looking around them nervously as he grabbed Percy’s hand and tugged on it. The American Auror stumbled slightly but recovered quickly, following Newt’s lead as he leaned against Percy’s side. To anyone watching, they looked like a couple – hopefully – instead of members of the Hunt for Grindelwald. “They likely have an alert on it, and other words that are used for… situations like this.”
Newt felt the charmed amulet resting beneath his shirt warm for a moment; acknowledgement from Valére of Newt’s words. He trusted the French Auror to relay the warning to the others.
“Anyone wearing warded coats will be noticed as well,” Newt continued quietly as they kept walking among the crowd.
Percy looked down at him. “Your coat-” he started to say and Newt reached up to press a finger to Percy’s lips, silencing him. Percy’s eyes widened.
“Not those kind of wards,” Newt said quietly, fighting off a blush as he quickly withdrew his finger from Percy’s lips, dropping his hand to his side. Percy’s eyes were dark and pressed against him, Newt could feel what Percy felt at that very moment. Heat curled in his stomach. “Standard wards. You don’t have them, neither does Thee, but several with us do. They’ll be noticed.”
Again, Newt’s amulet warmed at his words. Message received. Valére would pull those Aurors back who could be identified by their warded coats – standard procedure for any Auror-mission. The problem with those warded coats, however, lay in the fact that the wards themselves were predictable. It was easy for practiced criminals to spot undercover Aurors if they wore warded clothing because most Aurors couldn’t ward and thus relied on the standard wards Ministries used. Newt’s coat had been warded by Newt and he had put a lot of effort into designing the wards, drawing from any and all sources and reference he could to weave a complicated tapestry that was all-but invisible to others. Only those with exceptional magical strength or with a warding mastery were able to even sense that Newt’s coat carried so many layered protections that it probably should be considered a magical masterpiece.
Not that Newt would ever tell anyone that fact. Or really consider his coat to be quite as amazing as to call it a masterpiece. It did what Newt wanted it to do, the way he wanted it to, and thus he considered it a job well done with its wards and protections.
“What else?” Percy asked, voice low and leaking annoyance his face didn’t show. “What else?”
Newt shook his head. “Nothing that we can do anything about,” he answered, shaking his head when Percy went to speak again. “There could be members who know any of our faces. We can’t predict or really account for that. Or for anyone recognising one of us from past situations. Wards and triggers are the only things we can do anything about right now. It’s not much but it’s something.”
Percy sighed. “Fine,” he said after a moment, voice still low and tinted with agitation. “But how do we even get to the rally? We’ve been walking for what feels like an hour already!”
Newt tilted his head. “Huh,” he said, realising that Percy was right. They’d been walking among the crowd that hadn’t reduced in size at all, for at least twenty minutes. The graveyard wasn’t big enough for this many people to walk around it without it being noticed somehow. “This must be a test.”
“Test?”
Newt nodded. “It might be more than just looking for certain people,” he realised. “I think this is how they’re finding people who are most likely to listen and believe versus those who are just curious or won’t be easily recruited.”
Percy’s arm around Newt’s waist – which Newt hadn’t noticed had slid around him at some point in their endless walking – tightened slightly. “You said something about being able to work around that?” He asked, dipping his head to speak quietly into Newt’s ear. It made Newt’s heart pound at the feeling of Percy’s voice and breath whispering into his ear.
Newt swallowed thickly and nodded. “I need to concentrate,” he said, quietly. “You’re going to have to direct me and make sure I don’t trip over anything.” He glanced up at Percy, giving him a small but cheeky grin. “Sorry.”
Percy quirked an eyebrow at him. Smirked slightly. “Don’t be.”
Newt blinked and looked away from the American Auror, blowing out a breath. “Okay,” he breathed out, focusing on his magic and slowly reaching out with it. “You’ll know when I’ve done it, so don’t hesitate,” Newt told Percy. He felt the humming sound of agreement Percy gave before he dipped his head and closed his eyes, resting his head against Percy’s shoulder and upper arm.
It probably looked like he was tired of walking, hopefully looked that way, but Newt had purposefully chosen to angle his head so his face was partially hidden by Percy’s coat and his fringe covered his eyes. No one looking at them would be able to see Newt’s closed eyes or notice the way he was relying entirely on Percy to direct his body while Newt focused on using his magic in ways that should not be possible.
Just like the door back in the warehouse in New York, Newt could feel the spell woven over the crowd. He felt the way it wrapped around the crowd, sensing intent, desire, curiosity, weakness, and so much more, analysing those things and determining who it did and didn’t let through. Newt flinched slightly, feet stumbling, as the spell reacted to his reaching out to it. Percy made the way he flinched and stumbled look natural – the spell itself showing Newt through his magic and mind how they looked in the crowd, walking together, Newt nestled against Percy’s side like he belonged there. Newt forced himself to focus on the structure of the spell, the way it worked, digging to find a way to either render it inert – not preferable as they likely would reveal that something was wrong to Grindelwald’s followers – or work around it – a better option and one Newt preferred.
It took what felt like an age but in truth was barely five minutes before Newt’s prying and digging revealed the way he could get them past the spell and into the rally. It was surprisingly simple and, just like the warehouse, all Newt had to do was let the spell tell him what it wanted him to give it. Then, just like a mirror, Newt drew back to his body, blinked his eyes open, and turned his magic into a reflection of the spell.
The reaction was instantaneous. Percy, still holding on to Newt, stumbled as the crowd around them seemed to be swallowed by fog, stairs of deep red stone appearing a few feet in front of them, descending down down down into the Catacombs.
Percy looked at Newt, surprise clear on his face for long enough for Newt to notice it before it disappeared beneath the neutral expression Percy had been holding on to the whole time. Newt pulled away from the American Auror who seemed reluctant to let him go but did, nonetheless. A moment later three of the four Aurors that had come with Newt and Percy appeared from within the fog, stumbling to a stop behind them. Newt turned to look at them, waiting patiently as a few moments later, several more Aurors appeared out of the fog.
Thee came out of the fog on Newt’s left, not even slowing down in his approach until he came to a stop right next to him. “What just happened?” He asked, blunt and to the point, staring at Newt with a tight expression on his face.
“The crowd was spelled,” Newt answered, aware that the other Aurors were listening to him. “I tricked it into thinking we were perfect recruits for the rally.” He shrugged, glancing down and away from his brother. “Basically, just held up a mirror to the spell so it saw what it wanted.”
Thee snorted. “Basically.” Newt looked at his brother who smirked at him. “Right. Nothing big, of course.”
Newt could practically feel Thee’s sarcasm. He rolled his eyes.
“Maintain your teams, withdraw if you encounter resistance. Do not engage unless necessary.” Percy stared at the nine other Aurors present. They’d had more in the crowd but it seemed that Valére had withdrawn those with standard warding before Newt’s mirroring of the spell. It was for the best as Newt doubted the spell would have let those Aurors through even with Newt tricking it. There definitely had been something tied to the spell for detection, though Newt hadn’t discerned what it was supposed to detect.
As far as Newt could sense, his trickery of the crowd spell hadn’t triggered any alerts or been detected. If they were lucky, then they hopefully could attend the rally, maybe corner Grindelwald, and arrest him before anything else happened.
A sense of foreboding, settling deep in his gut, had Newt doubting they would capture Grindelwald today.
Percy turned to look at Newt and Thee. “You’re with us,” he said, looking at Thee who nodded. Percy turned to the steps. “Lets go.”
As a group, they descended the steps down into the Catacombs, Newt’s senses on high-alert, magic twitchy, expecting something. They reached the bottom of the steps and found themselves in a long, dimly-lit passageway lined with ossuary that Newt’s magic recoiled away from. Newt staggered to the side, Thee catching him by his shoulders and looking at him with a deep frown. Newt shook his head before his brother could speak.
To Newt’s magic, still withdrawn and twisting around him like an agitated creature, the ossuaries felt dark-cold-ice-ice-ice-ICE—
“Newt!”
A sharp shake of shoulders, a familiar voice calling him, hisname. Newt. Newt.
Newt gasped, ragged and wheezing. He blinked, eyes dry and burning. His body felt like ice.
“I- I- I’m okay,” he managed to say, stuttering as his teeth rattled and body shook with shivers. “I—”
“What the hell? No, you’re not! What just happened? Newt!” Thee’s voice shook with fear, worry apparent in every syllable. Newt focused on the warmth in his brother, the heat of his hands on Newt’s shoulders.
“Th- the oss-ossuaries,” he said, shaking slowly subsiding the longer he focused on Thee. His rattling teeth steadied, breathing slowed, eyes no longer burned. Newt’s magic curled around him, wrapped itself close, trapping warmth and soothing him as surely as Thee’s presence did. “I was- I reached out with- I didn’t realise- don’t touch them. Any of them.”
“What?” Thee stared at him, not understanding and Newt needed him to understand. It was dangerous if they didn’t understand.
Newt took a deep breath and held it. He forced his body to calm quicker, settle faster, heart steadying, hands fall still. He let the breath out slow and then he spoke. “The ossuaries in the walls. There’s some magic tied to them. It’s- It’s not safe to touch. None of them are. I used a spell to sense the area around us. It reacted to the ossuaries.”
Newt couldn’t exactly tell the assembled Aurors about his magic, the way it acted, how he could do things no wizard could or should be able to do, so he settled for a minor altering of the truth. A spell. Easy. Believable. Thee and Percy obviously believed otherwise. Thee already suspected something was going on with Newt, more than just what he’d promised Albus, and Percy wasn’t a fool.
‘Later,’ he promised. ‘I’ll tell them after this is over.’
“Is there anything else?” Percy asked and Newt looked at the American Auror, grateful for the chance to move on.
“Nothing that will be an issue, no,” Newt replied, gently pulling Thee’s hands from his shoulders. He gave his brother a small smile. “I’m fine now. It just caught me off guard.”
Thee didn’t look like he believed him. That was fair. Newt did tend to minimise things to avoid worrying his brother but, in this case, he was telling the truth. Now that Newt knew the ossuaries were something dangerous, he wouldn’t let his magic near them.
Not, to be entirely honest, that Newt’s magic seemed to want to go anywhere near the ossuaries anyway.
“From what I sensed before the ossuaries distracted me, I think there are markers for people to follow to the rally location,” Newt said, turning away from his brother who, thankfully, let the matter go for now. Newt pointed at a symbol that looked as though it had always been carved on the side of the passageway but was actually recent. His magic picked up on how fresh the magic used to apply the symbol was, telling Newt the symbol had been added to the walls not even a day ago. “That symbol is new. I think to those that are actually curious about Grindelwald’s rally and what he’s going to say, it lights up and directs them.”
“It’s not lit up though,” one of the Aurors – Russian by the accent – said and Newt glanced back at them, noticing Junior Auror Igorovich looking doubtfully at him.
“No, because we’re not here to hear what he has to say,” Newt said, watching the group of Aurors nod slowly. “I know it’s recent and the symbol is one I’ve seen smugglers use before to direct each other to drop points.” Newt glanced at Percy. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Grindelwald’s supporters have been or are smugglers,” he commented.
Percy nodded. “That would explain how he’s been able to avoid capture so much, and why it’s been so difficult to find information about his movements,” he said. “We’ll have to look into that.”
Newt’s amulet flared with warmth – lesser than it had in the crowd, above-ground. Percy and Thee’s obviously did as well because they both twitched slightly as their amulets warmed for a moment. Newt bit back an amused snort at the way both Percy and Thee briefly sported twin expressions of discomfort at the flaring of their amulets.
“Maintain your groups, do not get isolated and no-one is to go anywhere alone,” Percy ordered and everyone nodded, even Newt, before the American Auror turned in the direction Newt had pointed and gestured at him. “Lead the way, Mister Scamander.”
Newt nodded. He was the only one who could detect the symbols that would lead them to the rally, so it made sense he would be the lead, but Thee and Percy both walked abreast with him down the passageways. All of them had their wands drawn, ready for anything, but Newt’s magic flowed cautiously down the passageways, guiding them without incident to the large open space Grindelwald had decided to host his rally in.
It looked more like a Roman amphitheatre than a natural part of the Catacombs, stairs leading to the lowered stage in the centre, seating all around that held at least a hundred witches and wizards waiting for Grindelwald to appear. At the edges, stationed like guards, were a handful of witches and wizards that all sported a single red band on their upper right arms. It clearly marked them out as Grindelwald’s devotees to those around.
“Left,” Thee said softly. He looked at Percy who stared at him for a moment, brow furrowing before he nodded sharply.
“Right,” Percy said, voice betraying his frustration. He looked at Newt. “Centre. Do not draw attention,” he told him and Newt nodded.
He didn’t promise because, unfortunately, Newt couldn’t promise Percy that he wouldn’t draw attention. But he could at least agree to sit in the centre as previously planned.
Percy and Thee looked at each other, clearly exchanging words via Legilimency, before splitting up. Thee headed left with six Aurors behind him, Percy to the right with the remaining three. Newt remained alone, aware that Percy would have preferred to remain with him – as would have Thee – but with their reduced numbers, neither Percy nor Thee could afford to do so. Newt’s presence had more to do with his promise to Albus than any real desire to sit there and listen to Gellert speak of the same things that had caused Ariana’s death – perhaps not directly, but it was Gellert who had been the catalyst for his cousin’s death and Newt had no desire to listen to the man who hurt Newt’s family.
Percy had intended to remain with Newt, but the fact that Thee and Percy were the only Senior Aurors present meant that Percy had to act as a leader for the other group of Aurors. Since Newt also had a communication amulet, courtesy of Valére, Percy couldn’t argue that he would be leaving Newt unable to communicate or remain updated on the situation. Thee’s expression when he’d realised the same thing as Percy had shown his brother was about as happy as Percy about Newt being alone.
Newt, however, wasn’t overly bothered. He could look after himself. Without Percy or Thee next to him, Newt could also allow himself to use harsher spells than he would otherwise. Even if Percy and Thee wouldn’t judge him, Newt still preferred to avoid some of the crueller spells and curses he had in his repertoire with them present.
Of course, if it came down to using those spells and curses against Grindelwald or letting his loved ones be hurt or killed, Newt had no problem using the darkest spells he knew. He just didn’t want to have to use them unless he had to.
Choosing a spot about two-thirds down the steps, close enough to the central stage that Newt would be able to see Grindelwald’s face easily enough but still far enough away that Grindelwald would struggle to pick Newt out of the crowd, Newt sat beside a young witch with red hair and sharp, curious eyes. She looked at him and he gave her an awkward smile. With a huff, she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the central stage.
Newt bit back an amused smile at her attitude and looked around the amphitheatre, noting the possible escape routes, where Grindelwald’s devotees were stationed, the general mood of the crowd now amassed and waiting for the man they had come to listen to. Careful to not draw notice, Newt dropped his head down to rest his chin on his chest, making it difficult for anyone looking at him to realise he was doing anything other than nodding off waiting for Grindelwald to arrive. Instead, Newt began murmuring softly, knowing the communication amulet would pick up his voice well enough for Valére to understand him. The weakened communication spell, likely due to the magic of the Catacombs and also being underground, was an issue but Newt carefully linked his magic to the amulet, letting the thinnest trickle of his magic bolster the spell enough to make sure Valére could hear him.
It seemed that the French Auror couldn’t respond to them within the Catacombs beyond the flaring of the amulets, but that was enough for Newt to know when Valére was able to hear him. The amulet beneath his chest flared sharply with heat before fading and Newt held back a smile by sheer will. He focused on continuing to whisper information to Valére and the Hunt Department all listening to him. He gave them the general descriptions of the Grindelwald devotees he could see, the arm bands they all seemed to wear. Newt told them about the amphitheatre and gave descriptions of some of the witches and wizards he could see in the seats. He told them about the ossuaries and the sense he’d gotten from them, warning Valére against anyone interacting with them without cursebreakers present.
A sudden hush fell across the amphitheatre and Newt fell silent with it, raising his head to look at the central stage where a dark-haired woman stood. She slowly turned to survey the entire amphitheatre, pale grey eyes seeming to study every face in the first three rows – Newt had chosen the fifth row for a reason – before she gave them all a tight-lipped smile and bowed.
And then a man appeared before her, fading out of nothingness into the form of someone that drew hushed gasps and exclamations of amazement from the crowd. Newt’s eyes burned with the urge to blink that he ignored as he stared at the man who stood in the central stage, arms spread wide, a smile on his face, mis-matched eyes glinting in the light of hundreds of candles floating above them.
Gellert Grindelwald looked at the crowd that had come to listen to him and all Newt’s magic could feel from the man was dark, curling, joy.
“He’s here,” Newt whispered, sounding out of breath. The witch beside him made a sound of agreement, her eyes wide as she stared at Grindelwald with rapt attention. His words hadn’t been for her, had been for Valére and the Hunt Department listening but it didn’t matter.
What mattered was Newt following through with his promise to Albus. What mattered was Percy in the crowd to Newt’s right, staring at the man who had tortured him for a year, unable to do anything except wait and listen to the honeysuckle poison those mis-matched eyes bled for the mouth to speak. What mattered was Thee to Newt’s left, seeing a man who had caused their family nothing but pain, stuck waiting like the rest of them, forced to listen to the same sweet lies told to their cousin who had wanted to be remarkable and yearned for understanding and mistakenly found it in the wrong person.
What mattered was the future and the damage Grindelwald would do if he remained unchecked.
With all of that in mind, Newt steadied his shaking hand, wand concealed in his sleeve and prepared his magic for the moment he needed to fulfil a promise and, hopefully, land a blow to Grindelwald that would see the man weakened. If he could, he’d kill Grindelwald himself, if only to spare Albus and Thee and Percy ever having to deal with him ever again. But there was only one line Newt couldn’t bring himself to cross.
An Unforgivable would never pass his lips. Never.
Gellert looked around the amphitheatre with a smile on his face and delight in his eyes. Here were his followers! Those who understood. Those who would listen.
Those he could control.
He clapped his hands. “Welcome.”
The crowd around him, his new devotees, applauded him. Gellert’s smile widened. Magic lay heavy in the air around him, thick and potent with so many witches and wizards present. All of them, perfectly suited to Gellert’s needs. To his plans.
It was time to begin.
“My brothers, my sisters, my friends!” Gellert said, voice echoing and louder than natural, magic lending it volume and mystery. “The great gift of your applause is not for me,” he continued, shaking his head theatrically. “No. It is for yourselves.”
Several in the crowd before him were looking at him with awe, more still with something close to revelation. Gellert revelled in it.
“You came today because of a craving and a knowledge that the Old Ways serve us no longer!”
A murmur, quiet but there, grew in the crowd as he continued. So many of them desperate for meaning, desperate for purpose, and Gellert had a purpose for them. He would give them somewhere to belong. A reason. All they had to do was listen and believe.
“You came today because you crave something new. Something different.” He looked around at the people before him, noting those who looked at him as raptly as his devotees. ‘Those,’ Gellert thought with a dark glee, ‘ones are perfect.’ “It is said that I hate Les Non-Magiques. The Muggle. The No-Maj. The Can’t-Spells!”
Someone in the crowd called them scum. Gellert found them amusing. Muggles were not worth even that insult.
Now, now it came time to lie. To present himself as more than driven by mere hate. Gellert could not be ordinary to these people, his new followers. They could not be permitted to doubt their saviour. And a saviour does not hate. A saviour is better than that.
Albus had taught Gellert that.
“I do not hate them,” he said softly, earnest and heartfelt. Honest to them all as they believed every word he said. “I do not. For I do not fight out of hatred.” A pause, a glance around again.
Every person focused on him. Every one of these useful devotees ensnared by Gellert. Wonderful.
“I say the Muggles are not lesser, but… other,” he continued, smirking at his own words. He truly saw them as other. “Not worthless, but… of other value. Not disposable, but of a different disposition.”
After all, all rulers need chattel.
“Magic blooms only in rare souls.” These words, Gellert knew, were the ones that would make so many in this amphitheatre fall to his plans. So many who just want to be told they were special. That they mattered. Not treated like common folk. Not made to feel like they were lesser than those unworthy to even walk on two feet beside them.
Gellert was skilled at becoming what others needed him to be. To this crowd of devotees, all Gellert needed to be to have them follow was a saviour.
“What a world we could make, for all of humanity! We who live for freedom, for truth. And… for love.” So many in the crowd were nodding their heads, agreeing with him. Believing his words for the truth Gellert intended to make them. For those who followed him. “The moment has come to share my vision for the future. That awaits if we do not rise up and take our rightful place in the world!”
After gaining their adoration, their hope and their faith, Gellert had to give them something to fear. They did not fear him any longer, did not fear the stories told by the governments that let them live like mice hiding from the cat. But they were not mice. Witches and wizards cannot be mice.
Gellert will not be lesser than others.
And with a flick of his hand, his devotee handed him the Pythian Skull. A breath of the smoke from the pipe, breathed out into the space above him. The scene that unfolded in the smoke was as terrifying to the crowd as it had been to his followers when Gellert had shown them. It was exactly what he needed to achieve his plans.
“That!” Gellert exclaimed, handing the Pythian Skull back to his devotee before gesturing at the crowd. “Is what we are fighting! That is the enemy.” He softened his voice. “Their arrogance. Their power lust. Their barbarity!” He paused, tilted his head, and asked in a velvet voice, “How long will it take before they turn their weapons on us?”
The entire crowd was his.
Gellert blinked. Paused. Looked back through the crowd. He smiled.
Not all the crowd, apparently.
“There are Aurors here among us,” he said, tone ominous, and Gellert held back the viciousness that wished to show in his smile as he calmed the crowd. “Come closer, brother wizards!” He called out. “Join us.”
A murmur of discontent spread through the crowd. Through the people who now listened to him.
“There have killed many of my followers,” Gellert said, sounding as genial and polite as he had while playing Auror. “It is true.” He nodded. Looked down as though in thought.
“They confined me, tortured me in New York. They had struck down their fellow witches and wizards for the simple crime of seeking the truth. For wanting freedom!” Gellert looked around the amphitheatre, delighted at the sight of so much anger he elicited on his behalf! It was wonderous.
“Your anger, you desire for revenge is natural.”
“You want to talk about torture, Grindelwald? I’ll tell you about torture.” A voice most unexpected echoed in the amphitheatre. Gellert turned sharply in its direction.
“Percival Graves. Head Auror of the MACUSA Auror Department. The man who you attacked, kidnapped, tortured and impersonated for almost a year,” Percival Graves said to the crowd, staring down at Gellert from where he had obviously been seated near the back of the amphitheatre. “I’m the man you broke every bone in the body of because I wouldn’t tell you government secrets. I’m the man you denied food to for days and delighted in making me scream in agony. I’m also the man that signed the forms that allowed you to receive the exact same treatment any MACUSA suspect receives while in custody. I’m the man who signed the permission forms for you to continue to receive the same treatment after you tried to escape from your own trial and after you organised a kidnapping of a consultant for your own reasons.”
“You weren’t fucking tortured in New York because unlike you, the rest of us aren’t fucking hypocritical bastards who go after civilians and kill children who just happen to be in our way!”
Gellert looked around the amphitheatre and held back a scowl. The room had been full of those who had given themselves to him, fully and wholly, only moments ago. Now there was doubt. Now, Gellert could see questions forming in the minds of those who had given him their faith.
He had to do something. Something needed to- someone-
“Percival, you accuse me of much, yet I am a man targeted by ministries for speaking truth. You are a man from a government that would see me silenced because I want a better future for us all,” Gellert said, smooth and calm even as he planned. “You come here to arrest me, no? To take me to a prison and hold a trial where the only opinions that matter are those who benefit from making us hide from Muggles? Do they not have a vested interest in silencing me? Of course they do!”
The murmurs in the crowd changed again. From doubt to belief again. Not all. Some now questioned but most believed. Most listened.
If only one of those Aurors that Percival had clearly brought with him would attack! If one of them would lash out, hurt one of Gellert’s devotees, then he could regain all that Percival had shaken loose.
Alas, it seemed that was not to be, when Gellert’s sharp gaze caught sight of Theseus Scamander on the opposite end of the amphitheatre.
It seemed that Gellert would have to end this rally earlier than intended. Still, the turn out was good. All Gellert had to do was send off his new devotees and continue with his plans.
But he couldn’t allow these Aurors to leave. Not even Theseus. A shame. Albus and Newton would be most unhappy but, well, needs must.
It was all for the greater good.
Albus and Newton simply had to accept that.
“Go! Disapparate.” Gellert gestured at the crowd. “Tell others. Spread the message.”
As they did, Gellert acted. The Aurors couldn’t be allowed to leave. They couldn’t be allowed to follow any of his devotees. So Gellert needed to keep them here in the Catacombs, in a space that respond to him and his will. Where only those who Gellert wanted to apparate could. Where Gellert’s secret weapon awaited.
“Aurors!” Gellert shouted as the last of his devotees disapparated. He flicked his wand and drew forth the flames of his secret. They flared a toxic blue, brighter than regular flames, hotter even than Fiendfyre, and Gellert manipulated them to his desire. A ring, around himself and the central stage. “Join me in this circle. Pledge to me your eternal allegiance.” He paused. “Or die.”
Those who remained in the amphitheatre revealed how few Aurors had reached this place and Gellert was curious as to how they had managed to get to the amphitheatre at all, considering the spells he had cast himself and how none of them had alerted him to anything. Not even the gentle hum from the crowd spell had been anything more than a wizard doubting his attendance. And yet…
Of those still in the amphitheatre, Gellert finally noticed the lone figure in the central seating area. He recognised the coat, the hair, the face, those eyes.
Gellert smiled. He looked directly at Newton. “Only here shall you know freedom,” he said, staring at Newton who stared back. Gellert’s voice was soft, gentle and lulling. He spoke with all the charm and allure that had drawn Albus to him, his focus locked on the magizoologist before him. “Only here shall you know yourself.”
Newton tilted his head to the side, eyes still locked with Gellert’s own. Gellert held a breath as the magizoologist moved down the seats of the amphitheatre, the sound of his brother shouting his name ignored by Newton. Another voice, deeper, American called for Newton and Gellert saw the way Newton paused briefly before he continued his descent toward Gellert.
Gellert stared at Newton, his gaze likely showing the hunger he felt at the way Newton didn’t look away from him at all. The magizoologist paused at the flaming blue barrier, finally looking away from Gellert to stare at the flames. Gellert watched him raise a hand and cautiously reach out to touch the flames.
“Newt don’t!” Theseus Scamander screamed from across the amphitheatre.
Gellert felt like laughing when Newton ignored his brother and pushed his hand through the flames.
And then Newton followed his hand and Gellert stood within the flame barrier with Newton Scamander before him.
“You are full of surprises, Newton,” Gellert said, delighted and starving as he stared at Newton who shrugged a shoulder so casually it made Gellert laugh.
“You underestimate me.” Newton raised the same hand he had pushed through the flame barrier with and rested it on Gellert’s shoulder.
“I do,” Gellert agreed. “I won’t do so again.”
Newton raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it,” he said, flashing Gellert a devastating smile. “Aposematism is so easily ignored by humans.” Newton laughed. “Like right now, for example.”
Gellert frowned. “Right now?”
Newton’s smile turned sharp. Gellert raised his wand. He didn’t react quick enough to avoid the fist Newton aimed at his face, fast as a viper. Gellert let out a roar of pain and surprise as he staggered back, his nose having audibly cracked and blood pouring down his chin, staining his shirt.
The flames, held under control by Gellert, flared dangerously and Gellert’s temper flared dangerously with them. With a sharp slash of his wand, the flames were no longer under his control, instead free to run rampant and burn everything.
With a curse thrown in Newton’s direction, deflected by the clever clever man Gellert disapparated, leaving the Aurors and Newton to be devoured by fire.
It left Gellert with only Albus to place his hopes on if his once-lover could be made to see reason again. If not, then the rest of Albus’ family would perish with him.
The only other one Gellert might have deigned to let live had just tricked him somehow and was now paying the price for it. Fitting.
Newt had no choice. He looked around the amphitheatre and saw the truth of the situation right there. None of them could apparate out. The flames were out of control. The only one who was least at risk was Newt himself, in the centre of the barrier, but he was also the only one who could pass through the barrier at all. It seemed that only within the barrier could apparition occur.
Newt could pass through the barrier without issue, especially without Grindelwald there to control it any longer, but everyone else was at the mercy of the out-of-control flames.
“Newt!”
Newt’s head whipped round, body turning sharply following his gaze as he focused on his brother. Thee was backed up to the rear of the amphitheatre, the Aurors that had followed him with him, all of them continuously casting protego at the flames that leapt toward them. They couldn’t hold out forever and Newt had no idea of any spell that could counter the intensity of these flames.
A pained cry from Newt’s left had him turning his head to see Percy furiously cursing as he pulled one of the Junior Aurors behind him and lashed out with his wand at the flames. His shield was strong enough to repel the flames and Newt heard Thee bellow the shield charm with feeling just as he looked back in his brother’s direction. The flames were repelled further by his brother just like they were with Percy but neither of them could hold up for much longer.
‘Fuck fuck fuck! There has to be a spell- a charm! Something that can help them!’ Newt thought, panicked and terrified because what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t exactly cast a mass shield spell to protect them from the flames now could—
“I’m a fucking idiot,” Newt muttered, aiming his wand at the flame barrier in front of him. With a deep, calming breath, Newt focused his magic on the barrier before him and began to chant, over and over, one specific word while he imagined the flames shifting, changing, becoming protective and not destructive of the Aurors still in the amphitheatre. “Kulinda, Kulinda, Kulinda—”
The longer he chanted, the more the flame barrier began to respond to him. He couldn’t put it out, couldn’t disperse it, and since he had began casting, Newt couldn’t leave the circle it formed either. With the flames under control, however, it would allow Thee, Percy and the Junior Aurors to get out safely. They couldn’t apparate, and clearly the exits were blocked somehow, but Thee had a propensity towards explosions that only Newt exceeded – whether he wished to or not – and Newt had every faith in his brother managing to get them out of the amphitheatre.
It wouldn’t solve the issue with the flames of course, but it at least ensured only Newt would be in danger.
He couldn’t hear anything outside of his continuous chanting, couldn’t focus on what was happening outside of the control and concentration he had to exert in order to maintain the control he had. Not with the way the spell Newt was using wasn’t so much controlling the flames insomuch as creating his own barrier around the flames and forcing them away from everyone else.
An unexpected booming shockwave made Newt stumble, legs weakening the longer he continued to chant repeatedly, but a gust of air – not fresh but certainly different to the still air inside the amphitheatre – made him blink and Newt realised he was shaking, sweat beading on his forehead. Although the spell he was casting wasn’t precisely power-consuming, the way Newt was casting it required more and more power the longer it was repeatedly cast, and since the flame barrier was out of control and very reactive, Newt was expending a disturbingly vast amount of power.
‘Guess I’m going to find out my limits anyway,’ Newt thought, snorting mirthlessly.
“NEWT!” The scream was guttural and the first sound that made it through Newt’s hyper-focused mind. He didn’t stop chanting but did manage to turn his head to look in the direction of his brother.
Thee was stood at the back of the amphitheatre beside a large hole in the wall, Percy next to him. Both of them wore the same expression as they seemed to realise what Newt had hoped they wouldn’t.
Newt couldn’t stop controlling the flames. He couldn’t leave the barrier. They couldn’t get to him.
And, eventually, Newt’s strength would fail him and those flames would turn on him. Before then, however, Newt had one last thing to try.
‘Go.’ Newt looked directly at Thee and Percy, dropping his Occulmency shield enough to do this. ‘I’ll hold it back but you need to go.’
“NO!” Thee screamed and Newt blinked back tears as his brother made to move toward him, only stopped by Percy grabbing him and hauling him back. “NO! LET ME GO! NEWT! NEWT!”
‘I’m sorry.’ Newt smiled. ‘I love you both.’
“NEWT!”
The expression on Thee’s face was heartbreaking. A big brother realising his little brother was going to die and that he could do nothing to stop it.
Percy’s expression… Newt let the tears fall. Percy’s expression was that of a man losing what mattered most to him in the world and knowing he had to let it happen regardless of what he wanted.
Newt stopped chanting and dropped his wand. It was useless to him for this. With what strength he had remaining, Newt shoved Thee and Percy through the hole in the side of the amphitheatre, ignoring the way Thee howled after him, and forced the wall to collapse, cutting them off from reaching him for long enough; hopefully.
The blue flames, no longer corralled by Newt’s constant casting, burned hotter and exploded across the expanse of the amphitheatre. Within moments, the flames turned back toward the centre, toward the only living thing inside the amphitheatre.
Newt smiled.
He closed his eyes, spread his arms out, and let loose all the magic that he still had remaining. It burst from him in a blast, slamming into the incoming flames with a sizzling whine. Newt tangled as much of his magic as he could around the flames, weaved his magic through the magic of the flames, into the structure of the barrier, and then Newt pulled back.
It was over in the blink of an eye. One moment there had been a burning, destructive blue inferno in the amphitheatre and then, in the next, there was nothing.
Just Newt.
Just Newt.
Just….
N O T H I N G