Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Meyers sighed, “Murdoch, a word in the hall if you will.”
Murdoch, looking vaguely shell-shocked, followed Meyers into the hall.
Newt had yet to look away from Watts, who still stood at the door now looking at Meyers’ assistant expectantly.
“Thank you,” said Newt, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
Watts turned to Newt and smiled warmly at him, “Don’t mention it. It was the right thing to do, after all.”
He then cleared his throat and looked back at Meyers’s assistant and then nodded at the door.
She smiled and winked at Watts, before taking a seat at the interrogation table across from Newt. Watts furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Don’t mind me, Detective Watts. I’ll only be a moment.” Watts looked, if possible, even more puzzled as he tried to remember whether or not he'd introduced himself to her.
Queenie's grinned broadened, then she turned to Newt and said, “Queenie Goldstein, Mr. Scamander.” She extended her hand.
Newt shook it awkwardly, “Miss Goldstein, so Auror Goldstein is…”
“My sister.”
“Ah.”
Queenie chuckled to herself. “Don’t judge her too harshly. It hasn’t been an easy life for her. Well, for neither of us, but, particularly for her - it’s hard to be a woman in a man’s world. And the Auror office is certainly a man’s world.”
“And you’re not an Auror?”
“Oh goodness no,” she said with a laugh. “I’m Mr. Meyers’s secretary. He’s the liaison between our Government and…” she paused looking at George and Watts, “Theirs.”
Watts and George exchanged a confused glance.
Scamander nodded, his mind was miles away however. He was quite shaken and quickly played through everything that had transpired in his mind.
“I’ve never seen Graves act like that before,” continued Queenie, “You’re right to be unsettled. He was positively beastly. Not that you mind beasts, eh, Mr. Scamander?” she laughed again. George’s confusion melted from his face at the sound, bright and musical, and one couldn’t help but want to laugh along with her.
She shot George a smile before turning back to Newt, pulling a card from her purse. “Here’s the name of a hotel we have on contract to house visiting diplomats - if you mention my name they’ll give you a discounted rate. You must be exhausted, Mr. Scamander... you’ve been travelling for nine days...and you haven’t had a decent night's sleep in as much time, you poor dear! ”
Newt looked up at her sharply, “How?…” Then instantly, understanding replaced the confusion on his face, followed by betrayal and indignation. “You’re a Legilimens!” At Watts's and Crabtree’s inquisitive faces, Scamander clarified, “A mind-reader!”
He looked away from Queenie quickly, staring at the ceiling, and began reciting Gamp’s Laws.
“A mind-reader?” asked George incredulously.
“Yes...oh, don’t worry about that, George Crabtree, most men think much worse than you did when they first meet me…” she grinned sweetly, “You thought I look like an angel, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said...or thought about me. For the record, and I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but I think you’re quite handsome too...” She winked.
George blushed and spluttered.
Turning to Newt, she said, “You know, eye contact doesn’t matter for natural-born legilimens. Only a learned one needs to maintain eye contact.”
Newt looked down from the ceiling to stare at her again, eyes narrowing.
Queenie grinned sadly, “I can’t help it, Bunny, I’m sorry. It comes natural to me.”
Turning to Watts she said, “You’re testing me, Detective Watts…blue, spanakopita, Sonnet XVIII - ‘So long as men can breathe and eyes can see, so long lives this and this gives life to thee.’”
She winked at his stunned face. “Now you’re shocked to silence. An uncommon occurrence in that brain of yours.” Turning back to Newt, she cried, “Oh please stop with Gamp’s Laws of Conservation of Matter in Transfiguration it’s incredibly hard to have a conversation with that running in the background of your mind.”
Newt looked like he’d been slapped, “Please stop trying to read my mind. It’s private.”
“I’ll try,” said Queenie seriously.
“Is this why Meyers hired you, Miss Goldstein? To...spy on people’s thoughts?” asked Watts.
“Oh, no, Detective Watts! Mr. Meyers has no clue. He thinks I’m just a pretty face. He hopes I can flirt more information out of Mr. Scamander here,” she shot Newt a small smile, “His heart is not easily swayed by a pretty face however...”
Newt blushed.
“You’re better off, you know? I know people don’t like to hear that, but she was a taker. You need a nurturer. Someone kind, and giving, like yourself.”
At Newt’s utterly betrayed expression, she continued...
“Sorry, Bunny. I can’t help it. The easiest thoughts to read are the wounds we carry in our hearts.”
She glanced at Watts, raised an eyebrow, then looked at Newt before turning back to Watts, positively beaming. “Interesting.” She said nothing further, just smiled to herself, before continuing on with her previous train of thought.
“No, Detective Watts, to further answer your question, like so many others, Mr. Meyers has a tendency to underestimate and overlook those he perceives as lesser or weaker. You’d know all about that of course, Mr. Scamander. How many times have you been overlooked because you’re not a big old brutish torpedo? People might not understand the work you do, but I’m glad someone out there cares.”
She straightened her flawlessly neat skirt absently, then stood.
“Welcome to Toronto, Mr. Scamander. I hope you enjoy your stay. Don’t judge our city too harshly on your first experiences here. I hope the rest of your time is significantly better. Incidentally, if you plan to show them your case - I won’t tell if you don’t,” she winked again.
He looked at her again in surprise. Miss Goldstein was very gifted in pulling the rug out from under one’s feet.
“Good luck in finding your friend, I hope he’s safe and sound,” she extended her hand and shook Newt’s again, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Scamander. Don’t be a stranger. Detective Watts,” she said turning to Watts, “You have a fascinating mind.” She shook his hand. Watts looked at her with furrowed brows, “So do you, Miss Goldstein, full of surprises!”
Queenie laughed. Turning to George she blushed, “Constable Crabtree, I do hope we meet again.” George blushed as well, a crooked smile crossed his face, “I think I would like that, Miss Goldstein.”
“Queenie, please, Constable,” she said, taking his hand. “Queenie,” said George wistfully. He bowed, “Please, call me George.”
Queenie beamed. “I’ll owl you, George.” She slipped out of the interrogation room just as Murdoch returned, followed by Dr. Ogden.
Watts was looking at George with his head cocked to the side, “Constable, did you just bow at her?”
“I think I just did, Sir.”
George blinked, turning to Scamander, he asked, “What does she mean she’ll owl me ?”
Scamander had a small sympathetic smile on his face, “You’ll find out soon enough, Constable, I wager.”
“If we’re quite finished…” said Murdoch, looking from one to the other, utterly confused.
“What was all that about?” asked Watts, nodding after Meyers and Miss Goldstein.
“Meyers and Graves wanted to know if we had any updates on the case, and he asked how we knew to be at the demonstration at City Hall - I told them the identity of the last victim, and mentioned his connection with the New Salem Society. Graves seemed peculiarly intrigued...he left abruptly. Mr. Meyers was just waiting for Miss Goldstein.”
Murdoch turned towards Dr. Ogden, “Julia, I’d like you to meet Mr. Newt Scamander, Mr. Scamander, my wife, Dr. Julia Ogden.”
Watts shot Murdoch an inquisitive look. Murdoch shook his head. Watts had a suspicion that Dr. Ogden’s presence had been requested not only to discuss the markings on the victims, but also for a psychological evaluation. Watts wondered if Murdoch would still think Mr. Scamander insane if he’d witnessed the exchange with Miss Goldstein.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Scamander,” said Julia as she shook his hand warmly.
“Likewise, Dr. Ogden.”
“Apart from being a physician and surgeon, Dr. Ogden is also an accomplished psychoanalyst as well as being our coroner. She’s conducted the post-mortems on the victims in the photographs. You said you had information for us, Mr. Scamander.”
Scamander looked at Murdoch carefully.
“You said you’ve encountered markings like these in the past,” said Murdoch indicating the photographs with his hands.
“Yes, in Sudan,” he paused looking at the four gathered people carefully, “In telling you and showing you what I’m about to reveal, I’ll be breaking about a hundred international secrecy laws. In life-or-death situations, there are certain loopholes...but, I need your word, all of you, that you will not speak of this to anyone.”
“Mr. Scamander - I can’t make that promise, this is a murder investigation, if the information you are about to share helps us to capture the guilty party, we will need the evidence to convict them - I can try to keep your name out of it but…”
“Detective, it’s not just about me, it’s for your own protection as well.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Scamander?”
“Oh, William,” admonished Dr. Ogden, “Mr. Scamander, would it be possible for us to promise that we will keep quiet about this within reason - if you have permission to speak of these things within the context of a life-or-death situation, surely the same protections extend to us? And a murder case is certainly a life-or-death situation.”
“It’s complicated,” he said, frustrated.
“How about we confer with you before talking about it with others?” asked Watts.
Newt looked at him carefully, then sighed. “I suppose that’s as good as I can expect for now.” He picked up the photographs on the table, looking at them carefully, a dark expression on his face, “How long have these attacks been happening? Please, tell me everything,” he said, turning to look at them again.
“Mr. Scamander, you’re here helping us with our investigation” said Murdoch.
“Please, I may very well be the only person who can help you here - I’ve certainly studied more about Obscurials than most.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Murdoch, “What’s an Obscurial?”
Newt took a breath, looking at them carefully. Watts was shocked by the intensity of Scamander’s gaze.
“An Obscurus is a parasitic entity. The Obscurial is the unwitting host.”
“Mr. Scamander, I found no trace of a parasite in the victims,” said Dr. Ogden definitively.
“Of course, Doctor, I’m not questioning your results or methodology - The victims aren’t Obscurials, they’re victims of the Obscurus,” Newt began to walk nervously about the room.
“What you have to understand is that the world is infinitely more complicated and fantastical than you previously realised.” He paused looking at them carefully. “Some people are born with certain abilities ...a core of energy that allows us to affect the world around us - we call it magic.”
George leaned forward excitedly. Watts stared unblinkingly at Mr. Scamander’s face. Julia looked puzzled but intrigued.
“Magic ?!” asked Murdoch incredulously. His eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline.
Newt now staring somewhere west-south-west of Murdoch’s eyes nodded. “Magic,” Newt confirmed.
Murdoch let out a strangled laugh.
“Magic?”
Newt nodded again.
Murdoch scoffed and turned to Watts, “We are wasting our time with this abso-”
“You think I’m mad,” said Newt interrupting, “I’m not mad, Detective.” He met Murdoch’s eyes carefully.
“Some people are born with the ability to use magic - for most of us, we welcome our abilities and we learn to use them properly, but when a child rejects his or her magical core, usually as a result of unspeakable abuse or trauma, the core begins to separate from the child. An Obscurus - the parasitic force - begins to feed on the child’s core, growing more powerful by the day. When it gets powerful enough, it lashes out at its surroundings, at people, leaving these markings-” he gestured at the images, “they’ve very distinct - there’s nothing else that can cause them. The parasite feeds on the child, the Obscurial, until it becomes too much - it consumes the child, killing the child and destroying itself in the process. Obscurials rarely make it to the age of twelve.”
He fidgeted with the roller-shade on the interrogation room window for a bit, not quite meeting their gaze.
“The Obscurus I encountered in Sudan, it was feeding on a young girl...I was camping alone in the wild, observing a colony of Streelers - er, giant multicolored snails-"
Murdoch scoffed, but Newt continued undeterred.
"Some boys from a nearby village came to find me. Unfamiliar with magic, they didn’t understand when I tried to explain that I was a zoologist, not a doctor. They told me of a young girl who had fallen victim to a horrific illness, a demon, they called it. They implored me for help. I couldn’t say no. She had been locked away in isolation, her family was afraid of her. When I found her, I...she…”
His voice cracked.
“She was so afraid, and hurt, and all alone, and I made it there far, far too late to save her…” A pained look crossed Newt’s face. He closed his eyes and looked down, collecting himself.
“If these attacks have started, the Obscurus is getting too powerful - it’s already lashing out - the child will die if we don’t find it.”
“Of all the ridiculous-” snapped Murdoch angrily.
Just then a small stick-like figure popped it’s head out of Newt’s breast pocket. It shook a tiny fist at Newt, then at Murdoch, Watts, Crabtree and Julia in turn, making a high-pitched clicking chattering noise that was undeniably a scolding. Then it huffed and slipped back into his pocket.
“What on Earth was that?” asked Murdoch.
Newt’s gaze had dropped down again, and he spoke to his pocket. “That’s Pickett - he’s a bowtruckle. He’s recovering from a nasty head cold- he got sick on the ship over. They’re not used to traveling by sea - or traveling at all for that matter. I’ve been keeping him in my pocket...body heat, you know? We must have disturbed his rest.” Newt absently rubbed his pocket with the knuckle of his pointer finger, with a small affectionate smile, “Sorry, Pickett.”
A responding exasperated-yet-affectionate clatter came from his pocket.
“Zoologist, you said?” asked Watts with interest.
“Technically, a Magizoologist ,” responded Newt, “I specialize in magical creatures.
Murdoch made a strangled noise.
“Magical-” whispered George with a smile forming on his face.
“What is a bowtruckle?” asked Watts.
“They’re tree guardians. Native to forests around the world. I found Pickett and his family in The Black Forest. There was a forest fire - their tree had been almost completely destroyed, and bowtruckles can’t live if their tree dies. So I salvaged what I could, I healed the tree and nursed the bowtruckles back to health. I couldn’t leave them to die.”
Watts and Julia were totally captivated. George looked ecstatic.
Murdoch was having a hard time wrapping his head around Scamander’s words. He tried opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again at a total loss.
“You said that you have proof for us?” asked Murdoch finally.
“Yes, I…my case,” he said, turning to George.
“Oh, yes, I have that right here, Sir,” replied George. He pulled the case out from under the table.
“George, what happened to Henry? I’d sent him to fetch Mr. Scamander’s suitcase,” asked Watts.
“Ah, about that, Sirs, Henry dropped the case, it cracked open. We put everything back in,” he said quickly at Scamander’s worried expression, “Nothing appears damaged! But he was too embarrassed to come back with it.” At Newt’s persistent worried face, George quickly said, “Please don’t shoot the messenger, Sir. I’m sorry, Henry is notoriously clumsy…”
“It was open?” asked Newt nervously.
“Only a bit - and we put everything back.” Newt’s face paled further as he looked carefully at the lock.“Do you mind if I check?”
“Go right ahead, Sir.”
Newt flipped the silver catch, put the case down on the interrogation table. “Thank you, by the way, Constable.”
“Thank you? What for, Sir?”
“Your quick thinking - I’d rather the Aurors not get their hands on my case - it’s rather sensitive.”
“Are you hiding things from the authorities, Mr. Scamander?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking, Constable.”
At George’s raised eyebrows, he continued, “I’m no legilimens, but with a father and brother in law enforcement, I know a look of suspicion when I see one.” A ghost of a crooked smile crossed Scamander’s face.
Newt opened the case carefully, then he climbed up on the chair. Watts, Murdoch, Julia and Crabtree looked on incredulously.
“Sir?” Asked Crabtree.
“What are you-” started Murdoch.
“Sir?!” Repeated Crabtree nervously, then froze as he watched Scamander step into his case, his legs disappearing to the knee as he climbed down into the suitcase.
Newt paused his face and shoulders just visible from the case. Leaning against the side of the case with his elbow, he rested his face in his hand. Addressing the four of them, he shot a wry smile and said, “You can join me if you’d like - you’ll certainly have your proof, Detectives.”
Newt smiled mysteriously. Then without another word he disappeared into his case. George, Watts, Dr. Ogden and Murdoch exchanged flabbergasted looks. Watts blinked, then shrugged. He locked the door to the interrogation room, and pulled down the shade on the window, then climbed up on the table to follow Newt down into the case, George on his heels. Julia shot Murdoch an exhilarated smile as she made her way down after George, Murdoch took up the rear.
“Brings a new meaning to the phrase in the middle of a case,” mused Watts. George and Julia laughed, Murdoch let out a strangled noise.
“Mind your heads,” Newt said as they made it to the bottom of the ladder. He took off his dusty teal jacket, laying it carefully on the back of a chair. Pickett crawled onto his outstretched hand and up his arm where he perched happily on Newt’s shoulder.
They stared in awe. They found themselves in a sunny workspace, surrounded by organized chaos. The desks were covered in stacks of parchment, drawings of fantastical creatures and diagrams of feathers, scales, and claws were pinned to the walls. Wooden shelves filled with jars and vials containing liquids and powders of various colors - all painstakingly labelled with the same spindly writing. One whole wall facing a sunny window (‘A window! In a suitcase! My word!’ thought George) was covered in an intricate shelving system that held an assortment of plants - the likes of which they’d never seen before. Scamander rolled up his sleeves, he grabbed a stack of papers as he led them further into his workspace.
They passed a cot tucked carefully under a worktable and a chest of drawers, utterly bewildered.
Some of Newt’s awkwardness was beginning to melt away, he looked significantly calmer and more present in his space. He began to lay the papers out on an empty section of the workbench.
“Here I have some images of the marking left by the obscurus’s attacks in Sudan,” he handed the papers to Dr. Ogden, “As you can see, the markings are identical.”
“You’re exactly right,” said Dr. Ogden, looking sadly at the images of the victims, and tracing the markings on their bodies, before passing them to the others to see.
“What does an obscurus look like?” asked Watts curiously.
Newt replied, “It’s like a small storm cloud, dark and churning with violent energy...I could show you if you’d like.”
“How could you show us?” asked George.
Newt stopped abruptly. “Ah, um...well, when the obscurus grows too powerful, it kills both itself and the child it’s feeding on. I was able to capture and freeze the obscurus I encountered in Sudan before it dissipated. My intention was to study it in the hope that should I ever encounter another, I would be able to save the child before he or she is entirely consumed.”
“Were you successful?” asked Dr. Ogden.
“Obscurials are rare in the magical world, Doctor...I haven’t yet tested out my theories, but I have ideas that I think are likely to work,” he tapped a small journal in his left hand before slipping it into his pocket, when he noticed a door to his left which was slightly ajar.
“Oh bugger,” cursed Newt under his breath. He paused at the door and looked at them, brows furrowed, a concerned expression gracing his boyish face.
“Erm. This is a little bit not good. I think the crash my case took earlier may have dislodged some of the inhabitants… ”
George muttered “Inhabitants…? ”
“I’ve built a sort of animal sanctuary, through this door - It’s where I heal and rehabilitate injured creatures. Technically we’re not supposed to use magic to alter objects that can easily fall into non-magical people’s hands.”
“Like building a workspace and sanctuary in a suitcase,” suggested Watts, his tone teasing.
Newt nodded with an awkward shrug, “Magical creatures - well, we don’t really have laws that protect them. The things I’ve seen on my travels; the abuse and suffering that these poor creatures undergo at the hands of uncaring humans. The magical community is not very considerate or conscientious when it comes to creatures. Or people for that matter. I’m hoping that my work will change people’s minds - educate them about the importance of caring for and respecting the natural world. Until the general populace’s opinions change, however, I’ve taken it on myself to care for these creatures. While I travel, studying creatures in their natural habitats, whenever I come across one that’s fallen victim to smugglers or poachers or abattoirs, I liberate them-”
“Liberate?” asked George.
“Liberate, rehabilitate, and return them to the wild when they’re ready. It’s not explicitly illegal , but…”
“You’d rather avoid scrutiny and awareness,” finished Watts.
“Well, yes. Part of the reason I’d rather you didn’t speak of this to anyone, but apart from that, you are what we call ‘muggles,’ non-magic folk. You’re not supposed to know about the existence of magic - if you speak of this to anyone - well, most people would think you mad, but if word got back to my people , they’d have you obliviated…”
"Obliviated , that doesn’t sound good!” said George quickly.
“They’d erase your memories,” said Newt softly. “Barbaric, really - all we really have in this world is our own minds.” He blinked and looked at the floor.
“So please, don’t mention any of this to anyone...do I have your word?” He glanced up at them awkwardly, not quite meeting their eyes.
The four of them nodded. Newt nodded as well, took a breath and opened the door.
* * * * * * *