Chapter 12
Chapter 12
“...that sounds truly fantastic, Mr. Scamander! What an adventure you’ve been living! It’s the sort of thing most men only dream of,” said George wistfully, as he nodded politely to an elderly couple they passed in the street on their way back to Station House Four.
Newt smiled shyly to himself. “I’ve been very fortunate. I have seen some truly amazing things in my travels...But I hardly consider myself an adventurer, nor my life one that most would envy. I spend a lot of time alone, in far-flung places doing things that few would care about.”
“Not unlike my swashbuckling archeologist character,” said George with a grin.
“I suppose, though - I’m hardly a swashbuckler! I’m not seeking fame nor fortune...I am merely witnessing the wonders of the world. It’s been said, 'Travel makes one modest...You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.'”
Watts met Newt’s eyes and smiled broadly, “Gustave Flaubert!”
Newt’s grin was like brilliant sunshine. “Precisely right!”
Watts laughed, “He also said, “Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.”
“And are you?” asked Newt with a wry grin.
“Am I?” asked Watts.
“Regular and orderly in life, and violent and original in your work?”
“I would say I’m “irregular and disorderly” in life and an ‘unorthodox pacifist’ in everything else,” said Watts with a chuckle, “And you?”
Newt laughed, “That sounds about right for me as well.”
He was pensive a moment, then said, “Do you know this one? ‘Peaceful is the one who’s not concerned with having more or less. Unbound by name and fame, he is free from sorrow from the world and mostly from himself.’”
“That’s lovely, Mr. Scamander,” said George.
“Is that Rumi?” asked Watts.
“Yes!” He thought of his well-worn copy of The Persian Mystics , translated by F. Hadland Davis resting on the desk nearest his cot.
“A 13th Century Persian poet and Islamic scholar,” said Newt, at George’s confused expression. “He also wrote ‘Respect your uniqueness. Drop comparison. Relax into your being.’ His writings...they inspired me tremendously.”
“Did you not previously respect your uniqueness ?” asked George.
Newt smiled sadly, “Not really...It’s been a long process to get there.” He glanced wistfully towards George who greeted yet another person they passed with a polite nod and a cheery “Good Afternoon Mrs. Greene, lovely day, isn’t it?”
“People like you, don’t they, Constable Crabtree? You seem an amiable fellow...very likeable,” said Newt.
George stammered, “Er, Um, I mean...I’m sure people like you as well, Mr. Scamander.”
“Not really, no. I annoy people.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is. I don’t really have many friends, just a very small group of people who tolerate me in small doses.”
George lifted an eyebrow and looked at Watts, and then back at Newt, clearly troubled by this new revelation.
“I don’t find you annoying,” said Watts gently. ‘Quite the contrary’ he thought.
“Nor I!” said George quickly and vehemently.
Newt smiled, “You’d certainly be in the minority with that sentiment.”
“Mathematically speaking, Mr. Scamander, two-thirds is a majority,” said Watts with feigned seriousness.
Newt laughed, “The people of Toronto appear to be particularly kind and tolerant.” He met Watts’s eyes, and observed their warmth and the way they crinkled as he smiled. He had such lovely eyes.
“And what do you think of Toronto so far?” asked George, “Has it met your expectations?” Newt tore his gaze away from Watts quickly and turned to George.
“To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect when I got to Toronto. But I’ve found it to be a charming city...and the people have been lovely…” He cocked his head to the side, “With a couple of obvious exceptions...Miss Barebone and Mr. Graves for example.”
“I believe It was Alexander Pope who wrote: ‘Blessed is he who has no expectations for he will never be disappointed,’” said Watts with a wry grin.
Newt chuckled. “Very wise! Thus far I’m certainly not disappointed.”
* * * * * * *
They arrived at the Station House to find Dr. Ogden, Inspector Brackenreid and Detective Murdoch had returned in the company of the two eldest Barebone children. They were seated awkwardly around the desk in the Inspector’s office.
Watts carefully looked over Credence, and then to the girl - Chastity he thought her name was. They looked thin and frail as ever, though Credence’s skin looked to be a bit healthier in hue.
“Is everything alright?” he asked gently.
“Miss Barebone did not feel up to coming to formally identify her cousin - she sent the children instead. We’re just having tea to recover before I accompany them back home,” said Dr. Ogden brightly.
Watts held back a snort. He could imagine the woman had been less-than-helpful. He hoped the children didn’t suffer her ire upon their return.
Dr. Ogden seemed to read his thoughts, as she shot him a sardonic smile and said, “I will ask Henry to accompany us and make sure the children are settled and resting after the ordeal. I will have another word with Miss Barebone while I’m there.” She excused herself to fetch Henry, but not before making sure they each took another biscuit.
“How’s your other sister?” Asked Watts carefully…”Modesty?”
“She’s alright, Sir,” said Chastity as she stood and quickly made her way to the door, “We’d best get back to Ma, Credence. She told us not to dawdle...Thank you,” she said, with a quick glance at The Inspector.
“You’re very welcome Miss Barebone,” said the Inspector gently, “And thank you for your assistance with the case.”
She nodded curtly, not meeting his eyes, and turned to leave the office. Credence was staring fixedly at the floor, as if willing himself to disappear. Watts walked over to the boy, and said, “I’ll accompany you both to the door as we wait for Dr. Ogden and Constable Higgins.” He gently rested a hand on his shoulder and steered him out of the room after his sister.
When they were away from the others, he whispered, “Are you recovered from today’s ordeal?”
A look of pure panic overcame Credence’s countenance as he looked up at Watts. How could the man have known about...
“The explosion?” Watts clarified quickly.
Credence seemed to deflate, finally understanding Watts’s question.
He nodded.
“No ill effects, I hope?”
He hesitated, thinking back to the beating he received, but then, remembering Graves, he shook his head.
But Watts had caught the hesitation.
“Credence...if you, or any of the children at The New Salem Society are in danger, please don’t hesitate...”
Credence didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded abruptly.
“Mr. Barebone! There you are. Are we ready to head home?” asked Julia. Chastity stood beside her, looking curiously at Credence.
Watts removed his hand from Credence’s shoulder.
“Please remember what I said, lad.”
Credence nodded once and then obediently made his way over to his place beside his sister. Watts looked after them as they left the station. Credence did not look back.
Watts made his way back to the Inspector’s office where Murdoch and Brackenreid were discussing what they had learned at the New Salem Society with George and Newt.
“So Miss Barebone was…”
“A useless bloody nuisance,” said the Inspector. He pushed aside his tea and instead tried to pour himself a glass of scotch from his decanter, only to find it empty.
“Drat. Tea isn’t strong enough to deal with all this madness.”
Newt smiled sympathetically.
“I’ve got a bottle of Blishen’s Firewhisky somewhere if you’d like…”
“Fire whiskey?”
“It’s magically produced. Powerful stuff. My brother sent me a bottle for my birthday…”
Newt flipped another switch on his case and let it fall open. The Inspector’s eyes widened as saucers as he watched Newt’s arm disappear into the case up to his shoulder. Newt wrinkled his brow in concentration as he fished around. There were some bangs and clinking noises as he shifted things about, until finally with a victorious smile, he withdrew his arm to reveal a glass bottle with a bright red label. It was decorated with sparks that danced and glistened, and proudly proclaimed: Blishen’s Firewhisky - Premium Highlands 39-year Scotch Whisky. It was mostly full with a rich brown liquid.
“I prefer Ogden’s myself, but my brother thinks this one’s superior…” Newt paused pensively as he pulled a glass out from his case and set it on the Inspector’s desk. “Hmm, Ogden...I wonder if they’re related to Dr. Ogden perchance” He absently waved his wand, and where there had been a single glass on the table, there now sat five. The bottle lifted itself and poured a measure, which then floated over to the Inspector, who cautiously poked at the levitating glass.
“Detectives? Constable?” said Newt as he grabbed his own serving from the air, “Can I tempt you?”
“Yes please!” said George excitedly.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Watts with a grin, “I believe it was Mark Twain who said “Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.”
They all looked at Murdoch expectantly. Murdoch shook his head awkwardly.
“Come on man, don’t be a teetotler,” said the Inspector.
Murdoch quietly beseeched the good lord for patience, then replied “No. I thank you.”
“It’s magic whisky, Murdoch. I think you can make an exception.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“It’s very strong stuff,” said Newt seriously, to the Inspector, “They don’t call it firewhisky for nothing.”
The Inspector sniffed it suspiciously, Watts swirled around his glass a bit before taking a sniff as well.
“What should we toast to?” asked George excitedly.
“Magical whisky?” asked Watts.
The Inspector chucked.
“To magical whisky,” he said. They clinked glasses and took a swig.
George coughed, Watts and Newt spluttered.
The Inspector grinned broadly, “This is exquisite!”
“Fire-whiskey is a name most appropriate,” said Watts hoarsely.
“Yeah, personally, I find Ogden’s smoother on the way down. This truly feels like fire,” said Newt with a smile.
“This is the first magical thing I can get behind,” said Brackenreid. For the first time he did seem relaxed. Then he looked again at Scamander as if seeing him for the first time.
“Now, who the bloody hell are you, and how do you fit in with all of this?”
Newt looked up from his drink quickly, “Newt Scamander, Inspector. I’m just passing through. I’m a zoologist specialising in magical creatures.”
“Mr. Scamander is assisting us in our inquiries,” said Watts, while George nodded feverishly.
“And you’re one of these witches the Barebone woman is talking about?”
“Yes and no...technically, I’m a wizard. Witches is a term we use for women, wizards for men. Miss Barebone’s view of the world is rather flawed - corrupted by hatred and fear. We’re just ordinary people. We’re not evil devil-worshipping heathens. We’re normal humans... butchers, bakers, candlestick makers...teachers and shopkeepers...We’ve got government officials we complain about, newspapers we read, radio programmes we listen to, we’re just like you, except, we’ve got the ability to perform magic.”
“Well let’s see some more of it then.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sir, do you really think this is a good idea?” asked Murdoch quickly.
“Murdoch, I think it's an excellent idea. The world’s just got batty. I need proof I can see with my eyes. What can you do? Give us a show.”
Newt looked a bit like frightened deer. He glanced at George, who was grinning broadly, and then he glanced at Murdoch who looked decidedly uncomfortable. Lastly, his gaze fell on Watts, who smiled at him warmly.
Newt felt as if he drank some liquid luck potion. He smiled back, rolled up his sleeves, and scratched his chin pensively. Then he waved his wand and turned the Inspector’s desk into a brown pony.
“Bloody hell!”
Newt’s crooked grin was infectious. The pony huffed and pawed the ground. He waved his wand again and a small flock of tiny multi coloured songbirds poofed into existence. They fluttered around the office, performing some impressive aerial acrobatics, and spelling “Hello There!” over the Inspector’s Head,
“Inanimate to animate transfiguration is one of my specialties,” said Newt with a grin, before waving his wand again. With a small pop, the birds vanished and the desk was back to normal.
Watts was staring at Newt open-mouthed. “We will need to discuss the implications of this - life generated from nothing! What does this mean about consciousness? Did the Inspector's desk think itself a horse? Did it experience hunger and thirst and develop a sense of self!? Did it actually become a pony or was it just made to look and act like one...-“
“That’s a complex bit of theory, one of the larger debates in the transfiguration community-“
“Can we see something else?” Interrupted the Inspector excited as a child.
“Yes, Mr. Scamander! Let’s see the protection charm you mentioned earlier - The patronus! The one you used to defeat the lethifold,” offered George.
Newt hesitated, “The patronus is an impressive and complex bit of magic. It’s a protective shield of positive energy that, when casted correctly, takes the form of an animal that best represents the caster.”
“Well, let’s see it then!” said Brackenreid excitedly.
Newt nodded, a little nervous. He went through a period of time after the war in which he could not cast the patronus charm at all. He momentarily felt the pain and depression that sometimes lurked just below the surface threatening to bubble up.
He took a breath and closed his eyes and pushed the feelings out. He thought of the joy he felt on his travels. The freedom, the wonder. He thought of Orlaith, healing in his suitcase, of all his creatures and the love he felt for them and he felt his heart swell. And then, another image came to his mind unbidden. Watts’s smile, and his warm eyes...the way they lit up as he spoke. He thought of Crabtree and his kindness, and Dr. Ogden’s fierce intelligence, and Murdoch’s dedication, and Queenie’s laugh, and though he’d only known them a handful of hours, he felt more at home with these relative strangers than he ever had before. He grinned and said “Expecto patronum!”
Without opening his eyes, he could sense the glowing form taking shape. He opened his eyes to find his corporeal patronus dance about the room.
“What is that?!” asked Murdoch incredulously.
“Is that a bloody kelpie?!” asked the Inspector.
“Yes,” said Newt simply.
The Inspector looked at him carefully, as the ghostly kelpie leaped and flipped about the room like an excited dolphin, “You mean to tell me that the animal that best represents you is a murderous water-horse?”
“It’s actually a shape-shifter, though it does most often present itself as a horse. Free-spirits, but once they make connections, they’re fiercely loyal to those they care about. And they’re not murderous...they’re carnivores. They kill to eat. There’s a difference.”
“They kill people.”
Newt shrugged... “Not really, not specifically...I mean, they go after large mammals...and they can be dangerous, but the trick to any creature is to know how to calm it. If you bridle a kelpie, it becomes docile as a domesticated horse.”
The Inspector scoffed.
Newt paused, puzzled as the kelpie playfully butted his head against Newt’s shoulder. Newt reached out as if to pet it absently, his fingers passing through the animal’s ghostly mane.
“...Hang on...How do you know about kelpies?” asked Newt. The patronus huffed and unsuccessfully tried to steal a biscuit from the desk, its ghostly mouth passing right through the plate.
“I used to visit my uncle in the Highlands all the time as a lad. My uncle taught me well...warned me to be wary by the local loch...any Scotsman worth his salt knows about Kelpies, and is sure to warn others about them too.”
"Ah, of course," said Newt thoughtfully.
The kelpie trotted back over to Newt and nuzzled him before disappearing.
“Well, that was enlightening,” said Brackenreid. He downed the rest of his drink and then looked sadly into the empty glass. “That Mark Twain got it right in one - there’s never enough good whiskey.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Not a moment later, George spotted Queenie’s blond hair, as she entered the office, and he blushed and smiled a lovesick grin.
She was carrying a covered dish in her hands. To Newt’s dismay, she had also brought along her sister, The Auror.
Newt gave the sisters a suspicious glance as he deftly slipped his wand back into his inner breast pocket.
“Miss Goldstein, Auror Goldstein...to what do we owe the pleasure?” asked Newt stiffly.
Queenie’s smile was a little too wide as she met Newt’s eyes and raised her eyebrows.
“I made apple strudel! Freshly baked! I just had to share it with George - you like apple strudel, don’t you, George!”
George grinned and nodded, “I certainly do!”
Newt’s eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline, as Queenie beamed and began to uncover the plate.
“Hang on, before we get to strudel, you bloody well disappeared earlier...literally,” snapped the Inspector. Now Queenie turned to him, her smile more forced and she subtly shook her head and nodded almost imperceptibly towards her sister.
Newt looked at her with his head slightly cocked to one side, eyes narrowed.
“What is he talking about, Queenie?” asked Auror Goldstein.
“Oh, just an inside joke, Tina.”
Tina looked from Queenie to the Inspector to Newt, and finally to George. She took in his grin, and groaned, rolling her eyes.
“Queenie, please tell me you’re not involved with this muggle.”
Queenie looked at her angrily and said “And what if I am, Tina? It’s none of your business.”
Tina looked as if she was working herself up into a rage.
Newt interrupted quickly taking pity on Queenie. “I presume you’re here on Graves’s orders, Auror? Unless you’ve got another strudel on your person...or perhaps a Danish?” he said to Tina.
Tina shot him a dirty look, then glared at Queenie one more time before responding.
“I’m not here on Mr. Graves’s orders. I’m here on my own. I know you’re keeping things from me, Mr. Scamander. You know more about this than you’re letting on. We are on the same side of this situation. I’m only trying to prevent further loss of life. Whatever information you have, I implore you to share it. Lives are at stake.”
“Could someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” snapped Inspector Brackenreid.
Newt glanced at Watts and Murdoch. They both nodded at him.
“We’re dealing with an Obscurus.”
Tina scoffed. “That’s impossible!”
Newt snorted, “It’s the truth. Look at the images of the victims! Look at those markings! There’s only one thing that can cause them.” He pointed at Murdoch’s blackboard where the images of the victims were on display. Tina walked over to the board, and said: “There hasn’t been an obscurus in centuries.”
“Just because you haven’t seen one doesn’t mean they haven’t existed. I encountered one in Sudan just last year.”
“Can someone please tell me what the bloody hell is an obscure-whatsis?”
“Sir, it’s a parasitic force that feeds on a magical child who has undergone tremendous suffering and abuse,” said George quickly.
“Right. Magical child. Right.”
“It lashes out and kills people and destroys things.”
The Inspector looked about two seconds from having a total meltdown.
Tina looked pensive.
“Abuse?”
“That’s what causes the Obscurus to form. A child rejects its magic in pain and fear, and the Obscurus begins to feed on it. It lashes out, consuming the child as it gets stronger and stronger, until it kills the child, destroying itself in the process,” said Newt angrily, watching Tina warily.
Tina was miles away. “Those poor children.”
Newt seemed to deflate at her words.
“It’s horrific, no child should have to suffer that fate,” he said in agreement.
Tina’s voice was full of emotion when she finally spoke, “The Barebones...those children, I...when we went to investigate the New Salem Society, I saw the boy, Credence. His back was covered in welts. She beat him till he bled, I ran a diagnostic test, he was malnourished and dehydrated, and the wounds...sweet Merlin. The way she treats those children…”
She trailed off angrily.
Watts was staring at her intently, “What aren’t you telling us, Auror Goldstein.”
She glared at him angrily, but deflated quickly.
She looked down at her shoes and mumbled, “I’ve been suspended.”
“What?” asked Newt.
Queenie looked at him intently and raised her eyebrows. She was trying to tell him something but for the life of him, Newt couldn’t figure out what it was.
“I...when I saw the state of that place, of the children, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I took out my wand to heal the boy, and Miss Barebone went mad. She flew into a rage and attacked me, screaming that I was a witch and that she wanted to kill me. She accused me of killing the Reverend. Rather than obliviating her, I...retaliated with force. If you’d seen the state of the boy...If Mr. Graves hadn’t stepped in to stop me I could have easily killed her. He suspended me without pay. I’m lucky he didn’t fire me outright or arrest me for attacking a muggle.”
She sighed in frustration and Newt felt sorry for her.
“So you’re not here on official business,” said Watts gently.
“I’m here because it’s the right thing to do. Because I may not be on the case, but I want to help. I don’t want any more innocent people to die. I figured you lot would have continued your investigations despite my warnings, and I thought perhaps I could help. And if you’re right, Mr. Scamander and this is an obscurus, we’re in quite a bit of trouble.”
“We’re racing against the clock to find the obscurial before it’s too late.”
“Is that where you were before, hunting the obscurus?”
“Ah, about that...we were sort of, but it’s a little more complicated than just that.”
“How do you mean?”
“In the confusion of the explosion earlier today, I lost sight of some of my creatures.”
“Your creatures? What creatures?”
“I’m a magizoologist. I have some creatures in my care, and they sort of... got loose.”
“They got loose ?!”
“Not all of them! Just a few! And I’ve already re-captured my niffler!”
The Inspector interrupted, “What? Do you mean to tell me that we have werewolves and unicorns running around Toronto?”
“No! Well, if you do, they’re not mine. Just a leucrotta, two billywigs, and possibly my demiguise. Nothing above a XXX rating, I promise you,” he said earnestly.
“Oh, great. That makes things a lot better,” said Brackenreid sarcastically. “Clear as bloody mud. What are those then? Friendly beasts like your kelpie .”
“You lost a kelpie in Toronto?!” Asked Tina angrily.
“No! No, it’s...a long story. It’s not real!”
Tina glared daggers at him. It appeared their momentary truce was coming to an end.
“How do you intend to recapture your creatures?” asked Murdoch quickly. Newt startled, having forgotten he was there.
“Well, I cast a tracking spell earlier, which brought me to Nick. Leslie the leucrotta ran in circles for a while before scampering. Are there any woodsy areas in Toronto? Wide open spaces to run, but with lots of trees and grass to munch on.”
George spoke up quickly, “High Park perhaps?”
“There’s an idea. George, would you accompany Mr. Scamander there to look for this...creature?” asked Murdoch.
“Of course, Sir!”
“I will assist as well!” said Watts, “Shall we head over now?”
“What about the rest of them?” Asked Tina angrily..."The billywigs? And the demiguise...aren’t those invisible? We use invisibility cloaks made of demiguise hair in the auror department.”
Newt glanced at her again. “They can turn invisible.”
“So you’re hunting invisible animals in Toronto,” said Brackenreid, sounding vaguely hysterical.
“I can’t believe you let them loose, Mr. Scamander. You’re breaking a hundred different international laws.”
“I didn’t set them loose. They escaped. There are no laws against simply crossing borders with magical creatures.”
“This argument is getting us nowhere,” interrupted Murdoch.
“You're right, Detective," said Newt finally, "We're wasting time, and time is unfortunately not something we have a lot of. I'll retrieve my creatures, and deal with the obscurus...The billywigs are native to Australia, they’ll be looking for a warm, sunny place with lots of flowers."
“Allan Gardens?” asked Queenie to Tina.
“Perhaps. How do you catch a billywig?”
“Are you volunteering to help?” asked Newt, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
“Queenie and I will collect the billywigs. The faster we can retrieve your animals, and take care of this obscurus, the faster you can leave and things can return to normal,” snapped Tina.
Newt looked down at the floor a moment. He nodded once sharply, and reached into his case. He pulled out what appeared to be a butterfly net and a mesh cage filled with flowers. He handed both to Queenie. “Be careful with them...billywig stings can lead to levitation.”
Murdoch choked.
Brackenreid began to laugh. “This is bloody crackers. And what of your invisible beast?”
“Dougal,” said Newt sadly.
“I might be able to help with that as well,” said Tina, “I have an informant who might have heard a thing or two...”
They all looked at her.
“He’s a confidential informant with his fingers in all the pies of magical Toronto. If there’s anything happening anywhere, he’s the first to know. And if there’s an invisible magical beast causing trouble, he’ll certainly know. I’ll reach out to him. I’ll send word if and when I hear back, once we’ve recaptured your billywigs.”
She began to walk to the door, then stopped abruptly.
“Before I go, would I be able to see the bodies of the victims? I’m curious if there are any magical traces that I can find...”
Murdoch and Brackenreid exchanged a look, and Brackenreid spoke, “Well, if you’re on our side now Goldstein, I don’t see why not.”
Murdoch stood, “I’ll accompany you to our morgue.”
“I’ll join you!” said Brackenreid quickly, eager to see more magic.
“Queenie?” asked Tina.
“No thanks, Tina. I’ll meet you at Allan Gardens. I’m not a fan of bodies. That’s why you’re the auror and I’m not.”
Tina rolled her eyes affectionately and then left with Murdoch and Brackenreid.
Queenie watched her go sadly.
“Thank you for the strudel, Queenie,” said George finally.
She smiled sadly at him.
“Shame you didn’t get a chance to taste it yet.”
“I’m sure it’ll be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten!” he said earnestly.
“Was this what you wanted to tell us?” Newt asked, “That your sister was thrown off the case and she wanted to help us?”
Queenie sighed.
“When our parents died, Tina raised me. She was like a mother to me. Mr. Scamander, I know my sister like I know my own mind. Better even. Something...something’s not right here.”
“Not right with her?”
“Her thoughts are muddled. Especially having to do with her altercation with Miss Barebone...she couldn’t explain it to me, her mind was in revolutions. She would never attack a muggle like that. Do you think it could have to do with the obscurus? Could it affect her mind?”
“To my knowledge, their attacks are physical, not mental. That is very strange indeed,” said Newt pensively.
“And another thing,” she said hesitantly, “This has to do with Mr. Graves...His behavior has changed. He’s grown colder, quick to anger, ruder, more distant, and he is utterly obsessed with this case...Tina is so disturbed by it, though she will never say it.”
“People do change sometimes, Miss Goldstein,” said Watts.
“Not like this. I knew before how he felt about Tina, and how Tina feels about him. They were sweet on each other, though they never admitted it. He’s her superior officer...they never acted on their feelings proper, but I could tell…” she smiled sadly.
“Reading thoughts certainly helps matters,” said Newt not unkindly.
“That’s just it, Mr. Scamander...I can’t hear his thoughts any more, and I don’t know what to make of it. I’m worried, and I don’t know where else to turn.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” said Newt seriously.
“Thank you,” she replied earnestly, then sighed. “I best be going,” she said nodding at the net and cage in her hands, “See you later?”
“Yes! Later,” said George.
“Take Care, Miss Goldstein,” said Newt gently.
Queenie smiled at them, and before leaving the office.
* * * * * * *
She had once again given Newt quite a bit to think about.