Chapter 14
Chapter 14
A short while later Newt was making his way north on Yonge Street, past the still-empty City Hall, accompanied by an excited George, Llewellyn, and Julia, and a rather hesitant Murdoch.
Llewellyn was lost in his own thoughts.
George approached him and allowed them to fall back a ways from the rest of the group.
“Detective Watts, are you alright, Sir?” asked George.
Llewellyn looked at George, “Just thinking...some things about this case and life in general...seemed as if they began to make sense, but my mind still needs to work them through…I...” he looked at George again, almost as if he had never seen him before.
“It’s so unfair that you’re required to always address me so formally…as Mr. Sca- er...Newt said earlier, you can’t take on a rampaging hormonal leucrotta without becoming friendly. Hardly anyone has called me “Llewellyn” since my sister - well. In any case...George,” said Llewellyn cautiously, “I hope you know that I've come to consider you a friend.”
“Thank you, Sir!” said George brightly.
“Perhaps, you could call me Llewellyn? Or at the very least drop the “Sir”...at least when we’re not in a formal setting?”
George beamed.
He leaned forward conspiratorially and said, “Very well, Llewellyn...Sir.”
Llewellyn snorted.
Then they noticed that Newt had stopped walking.
“So you mean to tell me that the entrance to...Magical Toronto...is on Yonge Street?” asked Murdoch, incredulously, “I’ve walked this street thousands of times and never noticed anything out of the ordinary.”
“You have to know where to look,” said Newt. He stopped on the corner of McGill Street and Yonge Street and looked about him.
“Mr. Scamander! There you are!” a voice called out.
And they all turned around to find a beaming Queenie and a disgruntled-looking Tina making their way west on McGill Street.
“I’ve brought you a present!” said Queenie brightly, handing him a tiny box with air holes.
Newt looked at her questioningly.
“Your friends have been successfully recaptured.”
“In here?”
“Shrinking charms, Bunny.”
Newt smiled in understanding.
“Thank you! No trouble I hope?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” snapped Tina, rubbing her left arm angrily.
Queenie giggled. “It wasn’t bad at all! We found the billywigs napping on a sunflower with a quick tracking charm. We captured them easily. Then, poor Teenie got stung by a wasp.”
Tina rolled her eyes.
“Shall we crack on?” Then she noticed the rest of the crew, and said, “We’re heading into the wizarding district...I expected you to come alone, Mr. Scamander, not to bring the entire Muggle cavalry along for the ride.”
This time, Queenie rolled her eyes, before threading one arm through George’s arm, and another through her sister’s.
“Tina, you’re not on duty. Let’s live a little! It’s right through here - Newt, you’ll have to help them, they can’t see it.”
“See what?” asked Llewellyn looking about him in confusion.
“Queenie, stop!” said Tina urgently.
But Queenie ignored her, and pulled her and George through the archway.
“Where did they go?” asked Murdoch in shock.
Newt waved them forward, until they were standing directly in front of the arch, though obviously the three muggles couldn’t see it.
“The entryway to Toronto’s magical district can be found through the McGill Street Arch. An impressive feat of enchanting, the arch is a stone structure totally imperceptible to any non-magical persons in the vicinity. To enter Ward M (as it is formally known by Toronto’s city planners, though the name is rarely used in the magical community) one need only walk through, under the plaque that reads Toronto Wizarding District, founded 1793 .” recited Newt. At Llewellyn's raised eyebrows, Newt smiled and said “Baedeker’s Canada Mundane & Magical , 4th edition.”
Queenie suddenly reappeared.
“How silly of me, Mr. Scamander! I left you with three muggle passengers! Let me give you a hand.” She linked arms with a still not-quite-functional Murdoch and Dr. Ogden, and shot Newt a wink before pulling them through the archway.
Newt and Llewellyn exchanged a glance before they both blushed.
“Oh right, mind reader,” groaned Llewellyn, thoroughly embarrassed.
“Right,” said Newt, “Shall we?” Newt asked awkwardly, extending his arm to Llewellyn.
Llewellyn glanced down, then looked about him nervously, but the other citizens of Toronto who were out and about on McGill and Yonge seemed to pay them no mind.
“We’re close enough to the arch that I think we’ve entered into its protective wards. There are strong enchantments in this area that render us invisible to the passersby,” said Newt softly, correctly interpreting Llewellyn’s hesitation.
“We’re invisible?” said Llewellyn brightly, suddenly, looking at him.
“To muggles.”
“And to magical folk?”
“Ah...No, but...I mean...there don’t seem to be any of those around...apart from me that is…” Newt speaking to Llewellyn's shoes. Still, he extended his arm again.
Llewellyn nodded nervously. Then he took Newt’s arm and allowed Newt to walk him through the archway.
* * * * * * *
Toronto’s Wizarding district was very much what you would expect, if you were familiar with wizarding districts around the world. To muggles however, the onslaught of colors, and fantastical sights were enough to make anyone stop in his or her tracks.
Llewellyn forgot to let go of Newt’s arm again, to Queenie’s amusement.
The buildings looked a lot like muggle Toronto, except they were covered with brightly-colored animated murals that moved about like living creatures. Vines of brilliant flowers criss-crossed overhead from the nearby herbology shop. Fairy-lights began to flicker on as the sun began to set. Enchanted signs flashed above the awnings that provided shade to the shoppers as they darted from shop to shop. Owls flitted in and out of open windows, delivering parcels and orders. The place was buzzing with activity.
George wished he had two more heads like Newt’s runespoor so he could take in all the sights at once!
Newt smiled as they passed a magical bakery, Kowalski’s , which had beautiful pastries, shaped like magical creatures and plants in the window.
A group of children ran past them to a shop called Ontario Quidditch Supplies, a large sign in the window proclaimed it was the purveyor of official merchandise for the Haileybury Hammers - “The Team that led Canada to victory in the 1922 World Cup. ”
“Quidditch...You mentioned that you had to regrow some ribs and part of your spine after a quidditch injury?” asked Dr. Ogden.
“Er, yes…”
At Queenie’s raised eyebrows, Newt explained, “I took a bludger to the back…short range” turning to his muggle friends, he explained, “Bludgers are these enchanted iron balls, kind of like bowling balls, that zoom around the pitch trying to knock players off their brooms.”
“Broomsticks...actual flying broomsticks, like in the stories?” asked George in wonder.
“Yes…”
Queenie smiled at Newt, “I never had you pegged as a quidditch sort.”
“I played for Hufflepuff House for almost five years, at Hogwarts...chaser.”
“No kidding.”
“What is Hogwarts?” asked Llewellyn excitedly.
“It’s where I went to school. Hufflepuff was my house. We had four houses, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and we all competed in the yearly Inter-house Quidditch Tournament…”
“I can’t believe they allow you to play such a violent game in a school!” said Julia.
“It’s all great fun - no one’s died in centuries, not since 1357, when a referee was killed in a professional quidditch match, but it had nothing to do with quidditch...he was unfortunately hit with a curse in the crossfire when a fight broke out between the two participating teams - let’s just say it wasn’t a very friendly match.”
They walked past the children who were ogling a broom in the window.
Newt nodded at the shop - “I see they’ve got the new Silver Arrow, definitely outflies the Oakshaft 79 and the Moontrimmer - I heard it can hit seventy-five miles per hour!”
“Seventy-five miles per hour...on a broom ?” said Murdoch incredulously.
“About time too! The school’s ancient Oakshaft 75’s were often outpaced by passing butterflies. I favoured the Moontrimmer myself...”
He glanced at the Goldstein sisters, “Did you both go to Ilvermorny?”
Queenie and Tina exchanged a glance and both started to laugh.
“No...Ilvermorny might be the most famous magical school in North America, but it certainly isn’t the only one. There are several in the United States, Canada and Latin America,” said Tina, “Typical attitude for a Brit - assuming they know everything about the commonwealth,” she smiled to take the bite out of her words.
“We went to Clements Academy on Bell Island,” said Queenie with a grin, “It’s a small school. We didn’t have houses, but we played a lot of Quidditch as well.”
“Bell Island!?” said George excitedly.
“Yes...do you know it, Georgie?”
“Oh, I’ve heard so many stories of that island, growing up in Newfoundland - ghosts, fairies, hags - it’s the most curious place! My aunts took me on the ferry on some summer Sundays - I used to try to look for the fairies in Butler’s Marsh.”
“Most of those stories are to keep muggles away from Clements and the magical communities on Bell Island,” said Tina, shooting George a look.
Queenie beamed and gave George’s arm a squeeze, “I knew there was something special about you from the moment I met you! To think we might have crossed paths as children…our Quidditch pitch was just there in Butler’s Marsh.”
Tina rolled her eyes at the pair of them... “Come on then…”
She led them up and down streets quickly, past cafes and bars where drinks poured themselves. They had to forcibly pry Llewellyn from the magical bookshop.
Soon the bright and bustling streets gave way to shabbier shops, and slightly seedier-looking company. Tina led them to an alley across from an unmarked storefront. The shutters were drawn and the dark wooden door looked solid.
“Is this where your informant lives?” asked Newt.
Tina snorted, “I suppose you could say that...this is the Wyvern’s Nest...it was an infamous speakeasy at the height of prohibition. Now that it’s mostly repealed, it’s become more of a jazz club. But they’re continuing to serve stronger alcohol than what is legally permitted for a bar to sell.”
“If you know that this has been operating as an illegal speakeasy, why does your department allow it to continue?” asked Murdoch.
“Are there no speakeasies in muggle Toronto?” she shot back.
“Fair point.”
“Besides, the aurors wanted a place to go drink as well. And having someone like Manky Fletcher running the establishment allows us to keep a close eye on Magical Toronto’s seedy underbelly...you might encounter all types in the Wyvern’s Nest.” Tina nodded at the establishment...at the moment, a wizened shrouded figure wearing a balaclava knocked on the door. Two knots in the wood turned into a pair of human eyes which blinked suspiciously before the door swung open a crack to let in the figure.
Newt nodded absently, “We best be getting to it then…”
He started to make his way over to the Wyvern’s Nest, but was halted abruptly by Queenie.
“Hang on, Mr. Scamander! We cannot go in there looking like this. We will instantly raise suspicion!” She pulled out her wand.
“What’s wrong with how we look?”
Queenie scoffed.
“Someone just entered wearing a shapeless black cloak...” insisted Newt.
“And were you not instantly suspicious? We need to appear as if we’re a group of young magicals out for an evening of dancing and drinking, not like a group of muggle and magical law enforcement officers…Excuse me, George,” she said, and then tapped him on the head with her wand. George was overcome with the uncomfortable sensation of something akin to cold water pouring down over his head and trickling down his back...and suddenly George’s helmet became a top hat, and his policeman’s tunic dissolved into a fashionable evening suit. George’s eyes grew wide, as he patted himself down. The fabric was luxurious, the cut flattering, the style impeccable. Even his police boots were replaced with a pair of wing-tipped oxfords.
“You look so handsome, Georgie. Don’t worry, it’ll revert back to your uniform tomorrow. I can always cancel the enchantment if needed.” She straightened his already flawless bowtie. George blushed.
George turned to look at the rest of them, grinning like mad. Queenie next waved her wand over herself, and her day dress became an elegant white evening gown, the floaty white fabric embroidered with glistening opalescent beads. She truly looked heavenly.
“Wow...” George was speechless, but apparently his thoughts spoke volumes, because Queenie giggled.
Tina rolled her eyes but complied, waving her wand over herself and turning her sensible work clothes into a fashionable blue gown, with a delicate geometric pattern embroidered into the fabric.
Queenie magicked Murdoch and Llewellyn’s ties into bow ties, and Julia’s dress into a shimmering emerald evening gown, and her hat into a matching feathered headband. Murdoch looked at her open-mouthed.
“Julia, you...you look...beautiful.”
Julia laughed, “Thank you, William.”
Newt shook his head grinning to himself, but he complied, and with a wave of his wand, his clothes became darker, more eveningwear ready, and as an afterthought, he turned his red bow tie black.
Queenie nodded in approval. She linked arms with George, “Come on, Georgie, let’s paint the town red.”
And she led them to the Wyvern's Nest .
She knocked on the door, and winked at the eyes that appeared in the wood. The eyes winked back, and the door swung open.
* * * * * * *
The Wyvern’s Nest felt a wee bit dodgy. There was no other word for it. There were clearly dealings of all sorts happening in the shadowy corners. Newt could see a hag shaking hands with the cloaked figure in the balaclava, and in the other corner, some mobster-looking wizards were exchanging what was almost sure to be illegal potion ingredients and vast quantities of money. Newt held his case a little closer and he looked about himself warily.
Yet at the same time, it was fantastic. Loud, dark and smoky, it was the quintessential jazz-age locale, filled with the mix of exuberant frenetic festiveness, wild partying and typical scenes that would would expect to find at a speakeasy-turned-jazz club.
Still, a lively jazz band was playing on a raised dais, and the romantically-lit dance floor in the middle of the establishment was filled with joyous members of the Canadian magical community, letting loose and enjoying a Saturday night. The witches’ multicoloured dresses flashed about as they danced, reminding Newt of tropical fish in the ocean, or vibrant birds in flight. He watched transfixed, until the song came to an end, and the dancers applauded. The piano-player wiped his brow and grinned. A sleazy-looking wizard stepped out into the spotlight, raised his wand to his throat and his voice boomed out over the dancers.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! A warm welcome to those of you joining us for the first time, and a welcome back to you regular debauchers. We’ve got a real treat for you tonight - all the way from Harlem, the hottest new jazz band, Duke Ellington and his Serenaders. Playing live! Right here in Toronto’s very own - Wyvern’s Nest. Give them a warm Toronto welcome, on this hot summer night, and keep those drinks a’comin', folks, as you dance the night away.”
The Wyvern’s Nest was filled with a roaring applause, as the band grinned madly. They re-settled in their places, and began to play.
“Let’s dance...we’ve got to look like we belong here. We can’t all stand out,” said Queenie with a grin. She dragged George to the dancefloor, calling over her shoulder, “Doctor? Detective?”
Julia smiled at Murdoch, “Shall we, William?”
“I don’t know, Julia...I”
“I’ll lead,” she said with a grin and a wink, and she pulled him to the dance floor.
Duke Ellington began to sing -
“I don’t need love potions
Or bewitching charms
Just so long as I’ve got you
Wrapped in my arms.
Oh baby, can’t you see?
Your love is magic to me.”
Newt glanced at Llewellyn, who was looking over the dancefloor wistfully. Tina elbowed them both and nodded towards the bar. “Fletcher is waiting for us,” she hissed at them. They followed her towards the bar.
“You can keep your talismans
And your enchantments too
‘Cause the only enchanting thing
In life for me is you!
Oh darling, don’t you see
Your love is magic to me”
They found themselves in the company of the dodgy emcee who shook Tina’s hand with a shark-like grin. He ordered them butterbeers, and accepted a wad of cash from one of the mobster-looking wizards who nodded politely to him before leaving the Wyvern’s Nest.
“On the house, Miss Goldstein,” with a wink, and led them over to a table in the shadows.
The musical interlude gave way to the song’s final verses -
Who needs a wand,
Or herbology
When you’ve got a love
As sweet as can be.
So take my hand
And come away with me.
Just you and I, love
Pure magic it will be
Oh, darling don’t you see?
Your love is magic to me!
Manky Fletcher waited for the roar of applause to die down, grinning madly. Only when the next number, a fast-paced instrumental Charleston, began did he turn to look at them all.
“Well Miss Goldstein, it’s always a pleasure. I hear you have some questions for me…unofficially of course, as officially, you’re suspended from the auror office, are you not?”
“H-how did you know ab-”
“My dear, it’s my business to know.”
Tina blinked and swallowed. Llewellyn shot him a calculating look. He did not like Manky Fletcher one bit.
“We’re looking for some creatures that might have gotten loose in Toronto, Mr. Fletcher.”
“Manky, please…” he looked at Llewellyn carefully, “I know Porpentina Goldstein - and I’ve heard of Mr. Scamander by reputation, but...I’ve never seen you in these parts before.”
“I’m new,” said Llewellyn dismissively.
“Uh-huh, and you are…”
“Eager to find these creatures as soon as possible, and curious as to what information you might have for us.”
Newt smiled. Tina looked on in approval.
Manky laughed. “Well, played.” He turned to Newt, “Mr. Scamander...I know you’re not familiar with me, but if this has to do with magical creatures, I assume you’re involved. A little-itty-bitty-pixie told me that you’re here writing a book on creatures. I have some information that perhaps can be of use to you...but everything comes with a price.”
Newt snorted, but he reached into his jacket for his money pouch.
“No, Mr. Scamander, you misunderstand me. I don’t need gold, I’m practically drowning in it.” He tapped his pockets which jingled to punctuate his words, “What else d'you have to offer?”
“What else could you want?” asked Newt.
“Information is worth a helluva lot more than gold. Or if you’ve got anything else you’d be willing to trade.”
Newt stared at him with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. If Llewellyn didn’t know any better, he’d think Newt was trying to read his mind.
Finally Newt looked away. He reached into his case and pulled out a handful of something that glittered silver in the dim light, and placed it on the table for Manky to look over.
“Silver?” he scoffed, “Surely you can do better than that,” and he took a swig of his butterbeer.
“Occamy shells,” said Newt smugly, “Surely a man of your caliber could recognize something so valuable and rare.”
Manky choked on his butterbeer. He stared at Newt utterly dumfounded. He pulled out a device that looked a great deal like a jeweller’s loupe which he held to his eye.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said with a laugh, he leaned back in his chair and looked at Newt with a more appreciative expression.
Newt looked very serious, which was a tremendous departure from his usual awkward self.
“You must be pretty desperate to find these creatures,” said Manky.
“Mr. Fletcher, we don’t have time for this. I've made you my offer. Do you have information for us or not,” said Newt, his voice quiet, and yet somehow more threatening and terrifying than if he had shouted.
“Manky please.”
“Mr. Fletcher ,” he repeated with a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes.
Manky raised both hands in appeasement.
“Easy, Mr. Scamander. I’m just curious as to why you’d willingly part with something so valuable for such trivial information.”
Newt remained silent as a tomb. He stared at Fletcher unblinkingly.
Fletcher's grin melted from his face and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. There was something very threatening and unsettling about a serious Newt Scamander. Llewellyn understood in an instant how the man before him could have a kelpie for a patronus, and how he could have travelled the world alone, liberating creatures from violent poachers and thieves. It was positively evident that anyone who threatened or got in the way of someone or something that Newt chose to protect was in deep dragon dung indeed.
Finally Manky said, “If I were you, I’d take a trip over to Eaton’s Department Store in Muggle Toronto...you know it yes...best to go at night when it's not too crowded.”
Tina nodded.
“Good,” he said and snatched the occamy shells in case Newt changed his mind, “Pleasure doing business with you…”
“Is that all?” said Newt.
“That’s all you need, Mr. Scamander, I trust you can connect the dots to figure out the rest, now if you’ll excuse me I have other business to attend to."
Manky shuffled to his feet and practically darted away from their table. Presumably to ogle the occamy shells in a dingy backroom somewhere.
Tina turned to look at Newt in shock.
“Where did that come from?”
“Well, as you know, I’m a magizoologist and I’ve spent the past three years in the field. I came upon the occamy eggs-”
“Not the occamy shells, Mr. Scamander - the... bargaining ...I’ve never seen anyone rattle Manky so much!”
Newt looked between her and Llewellyn, his expression innocent. “I don’t understand.”
Llewellyn chuckled, “I would never want to cross you Mr. Scamander. Pacifist you may be, but you get your point across very clearly.”
Newt looked confused, “Fletcher’s a bully. I don’t like bullies.”
Tina looked thoughtful, “I underestimated you, Mr. Scamander...you fought in the Great War, didn’t you?”
Newt shrugged uncomfortably, “Didn’t everyone?”
“What did you do precisely?”
“I was on the Eastern Front...I really don’t like to talk about it.”
“But you were dishonorably discharged?” pressed on Tina obliviously.
Newt sighed, “I was part of the failed Dragon Division.”
“Dragons?” asked Llewellyn.
Newt looked very uncomfortable, “Some higher-up had the brilliant idea of sending dragons to the frontlines. They breathe fire, they can be dangerous, they have sharp claws and teeth...so surely, they must be ready-made weapons. What they completely failed to understand is that dragons are not vicious for viciousness sake. They’re vicious to protect their young, or to protect their territory...they use their sharp teeth and claws to hunt for food...they don’t understand the concept of battle...they don’t comprehend our wars. They don’t fight in trenches or follow a general’s orders, they’re wild creatures - you put them in a...a...a hellscape of violence and...and...bombs and destruction, and...they snap.” He stared at his untouched butterbeer in silence. “Those poor creatures were frightened out of their wits and we were brought in...I was brought in to train them...to try to wrangle them to fight on our side...of all the most ridiculous and inhumane ideas. It failed miserably as you can imagine. One of the dragons ate one of our commanding officers when he tried to force the poor beast to fly into enemy mortar fire. The poor creatures were disposed of. We were all quietly dismissed and sent to hospital for a bit...the project was totally scrapped.”
“...He ATE him?” said Tina, utterly horrified.
“He probably deserved it, he was an ogre of a man,” said Newt bitterly, but then sighed, “Yes. It was utterly horrific. Unspeakably so. This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about it,” he gestured his hand vaguely towards Tina and Llewellyn, “But I fail to see what my military service has to do with what just happened here.”
Tina smiled sadly at Newt, “I meant it as a compliment, Mr. Scamander. That took guts and fortitude to stare down a man like Manky.”
Newt snorted, “I never understand why we as a species put so much value in toughness - in domineering behaviours. It’s easy to be rough and to destroy things...A person’s real value should be measured by the good they do. The healing they bring, the things they build rather than destroy, the compassion they show...that’s real strength. I wasn’t trying to be tough. I just want to find Dougal before any harm comes to him.”
Tina nodded.
“We best make our way over to Eaton’s then,” she stood up from the table and scanned the crowd for the rest of their party. She caught sight of Dr. Ogden and a flushed-yet-happy looking Detective Murdoch and nodded towards the door. Julia smiled brightly and nodded then began to search the dance floor for Queenie and George.
“Come along, we’ll meet them outside,” said Tina, and she led the way to the door. Llewellyn looked wistfully once more to the dance floor, the happy couples, and the bright music before following Tina and Newt outside…
...and right into what appeared to be an ambush.