Chapter 19
Chapter 19
They departed the Don Valley Brickworks Factory complex, and made their way down along the industrial rail tracks to a secluded copse of trees. Nearby, toads croaked in a lily pond, and crickets chirped in the warm night air. Here, far away from the glistening street lamps, one could see stars twinkling merrily in the heavens. Though it was still obscenely hot, being outside of that suffocating room made Newt feel a little better. He breathed a sigh, still feeling incredibly empty inside. That poor boy.
Llewellyn gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
“Mr. Scamander, that was some bargaining back there. Bordering on blackmail…” said the Inspector cheekily.
“It wasn't blackmail, Inspector. There were no explicit demands of threats. I was merely pointing out some facts,” said Newt cagily.
“Easy there. I merely meant to say that I couldn’t have handled it better myself.”
“Sir, will you ever tell us what happened?” asked Murdoch.
“Perhaps in the morning, Murdoch. Right now, I’m bloody knackered.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday, how about we meet at the beach? We’ll have us a nice picnic and exchange stories. What do you say?” asked George with a grin.
“Surely we’ll have to tie up the loose ends of the case? We have two more dead bodies, all the destruction…”
“I think you’ll find Mr. Meyers will tie those ends for you in an elegant bow. It’s the least he can do after all that’s happened,” said Queenie.
“But-” started Murdoch.
“Besides, a picnic sounds lovely, Georgie. I’ll make pasties, and some dessert! You must try my cake bites! There’s a whiskey-chocolate flavoured one that bites back,” she said with a wink.
“That sounds delightful!” said Brackenried excitedly.
“I’ll have to pass,” said Tina - “I’m going to begin searching for Mr. Graves first thing in the morning.”
“Right, I believe congratulations are in order, Deputy Head Auror Goldstein,” said Newt with a smile, “I can’t think of any auror more deserving of that promotion.”
She blushed.
“I’m just glad that that man wasn’t Mr. Graves. I couldn’t stand the thought that he…” she trailed off, obviously affected.
Newt nodded understandingly.
Tina cleared her throat, “Well, I’m heading home for a bath and bed...Inspector, Detective...can I drop you off anywhere?”
“If you don’t mind, Auror Goldstein...I doubt we’ll find a cab this late at night and the streetcars are not running.”
“Not at all, Detective.”
Brackenreid didn’t look too pleased.
“I’m not a fan of this disappearing thing…but I suppose needs must. Could you drop us off at Station House Four?”
Tina nodded. With a crack, the three of them disappeared.
Queenie turned to George, “I’ll drop you off anywhere you’d like to go, Georgie. Just one moment.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
“Bunny, I realize you probably never got in touch with that hotel I told you about earlier. So I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty.” She handed Newt a slip of paper.
“Hand that to the night clerk - don’t say anything, unless...how’s your French?” She leaned in conspiratorially, “I booked the Ambassador’s Suite at the King Edward - with a delightfully luxurious en-suite bathroom for the Ambassador and his attaché.” She winked at Llewellyn and elbowed him playfully in the side.
“Attaché doesn’t mean what you seem to be implying...” said Llewellyn.
“Whatever do you mean?” said Queenie with feigned innocence. “Perhaps not always. In this case, I’m not making any suggestions or insinuations...I’m merely informing you that I’ve booked a glorious suite,” she said with another suggestive wink, “On the Muggle and International Relations Office’s dollar - Have a soak in a giant tub and a sleep on delectable silk sheets and feather down pillows...I even arranged for a decadent breakfast...featuring amongst other things, a bottle of champagne and some of their famous mille-feuilles. It’s the least we can do for you after all you’ve done for us.”
She met Newt’s eyes and despite her teasing tone, there was a genuine look of sincere care and admiration in her eyes.
Newt chucked.
“Thank you Queenie.”
“Don’t thank me, Bunny. I’d say thank Mr. Meyers, but...as you’ve said, nothing happened. So there’s really no need for thanks.”
She laughed again, and snaked her arm under George’s. They vanished with a pop.
Finally alone in the dark, Llewellyn slipped his hand into Newt’s and gave it a squeeze. He looked at Newt intensely. Newt blushed.
“You don’t have to...that is, I don’t expect you to...I mean, I can drop you off at your boarding house if you want...now that I know where it is...what Queenie implied...I don’t...I wasn’t...I mean, I...” he stammered awkwardly.
“Go back to my boarding house?” asked Llewellyn incredulously, “And pass up on a long soak and a sleep on luxurious silk sheets and feather pillows?” His faked indignation totally diffused Newt’s sense of awkwardness at the situation. Newt chucked weakly.
“Besides,” continued Llewellyn, “What kind of attaché would I be to leave you to drink a whole bottle of champagne for breakfast on your own.”
Newt swallowed hard, “A truly heartless one.”
Llewellyn grinned, “I hear the chantilly cream in the King Edward’s mille-feuille is to die for.”
Newt replied, “Well then, what kind of Ambassador would I be to deprive my attaché of death-worthy French pastries.”
Llewellyn laughed, "A truly heartless one. Shall we?”
Imitating Queenie’s gesture, Newt linked his arm through Llewellyn's.
He hesitated.
“Er- Llewellyn, where is the King Edward?”
Llewellyn laughed. “If you can get us to Union Station or City Hall, I can guide us from there.”
* * * * * * *
At the King Edward, the night clerk looked over Queenie’s document and smiled at Newt and Llewellyn.
“Everything seems to be in order, Ambassador Vidal, and Attaché Crabearbe, Welcome to Toronto!” Newt looked puzzled. Llewellyn groaned internally, but quickly interjected, affecting a strong French accent, “Merci Beaucoup, Monsieur...pléase excusé, Monsieur Vidal’s Englísh is not véry göod. I am ‘is interpretér, in addition to béing ‘is attaché.”
“Right, Monsieur Crabearbe. My apologies, please welcome the Ambassador to Toronto on my behalf.”
“Ambassadeur Vidal, le monsieur vous souhaite la bienvenue à Toronto,” said Llewellyn nervously glancing at Newt, hoping he could at least fake French.
Newt looked carefully at Llewellyn, “Je vous remercie. Veuillez exprimer ma gratitude. Je sais que je vais profiter de mon séjour dans cette charmante ville.”
Llewellyn couldn’t help himself, he grinned widely. Turning to the night clerk he said, “The Ambássadór wíshes tó expréss hís gratitúde. ‘E loóks fórward tó enjóy yoúr chármíng cíty.”
The night clerk smiled as well, "Absolutely splendid! One moment and I will fetch the ledger for you to sign and the keys to your suite!"
Newt whispered at Llewellyn, “Llewellyn, que diable se passe-t-il ici?”
Llewellyn muttered, “J'expliquerai plus tard. Croyez-moi ... ne vous inquiétez pas, griffonnez simplement de manière illisible."
Newt looked at him incredulously but scribbled something illegible in the guest book. Llewellyn took the fountain pen next, and signed George Crabearbe. The night clerk returned, looking embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Crabearbe,” said the night clerk sheepishly, “There seems to have been some sort of mistake. The Ambassador’s Suite was already given to a...Monsieur Per...Per-Perrault.”
Llewellyn assumed he was the French Ambassador with whom Meyers had been dining earlier. “Ah, oui. ‘E is Monsieur Vidal’s seniór colleague. Thére must ‘ave been some...eh...miscommunicatíon on oúr énd. We wére méant to arríve togethér bút were delayéd on busíness officíal.
“Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” asked Newt.
“I cannot apologize enough,” said the night clerk nervously, “I wasn’t here when Mr. Perrault arrived.”
“Pléase, eet is nothíng. Do you ‘ave any other rooms available?”
In the end, there was in fact only one bedroom. With a singular bed. Newt groaned internally, convinced that somehow Queenie had managed to orchestrate this.
The night clerk and the porter apologized profusely and sheepishly offered to bring in a roll-away cot. Llewellyn graciously accepted, and calmed their worries explaining away the mishap on their inept secretary, Regine D’Orianne, who would receive a stern talking-to upon their return to France. The roll-away cot was procured. Apologizes were once again directed at Newt before the hotel employees beat a hasty retreat.
When the door closed behind them with a definitive CLICK, Newt looked at Llewellyn with his brows raised.
“Care to let me in on this whole situation? I take it…”
“The Ambassador’s Suite was given to the actual French Ambassador. The one that Meyers dined with tonight. Here. At the King Edward.”
“Right...and yet...somehow, I too am a French Ambassador?”
“Monsieur Vidal...that was Murdoch’s alias when he pretended to be THE French Ambassador...it’s how Queenie managed to trick Samson into letting us go.”
Newt nodded slowly. He still didn’t understand.
“Je suis tellement contente que tu parles français," said Llewellyn with a grin.
“Did Murdoch's pretend French Ambassador not speak French?”
“Oh, no, Detective Murdoch is fluent. No...George Crabtree on the other hand…or as he was known, George Crabeabre….”
“Ah, yes. Literal translation. Clever.”
“I thought so, Queenie handled herself magnificently. But alas, Poor George - Il ne parle pas français.”
Newt looked at Llewellyn disbelievingly, then began to laugh.
Llewellyn laughed too.
“The French attaché could not speak French?”
“No. Good Lord. You had to have been there. If I remember correctly, at one point, he exclaimed “Soufflé!”
Newt laughed harder. It was a cathartic release after all the stress and sadness of the evening. He laughed until he had tears streaming down his face.
When they managed to get their laughter under control, Llewellyn continued: “I told him that he made as convincing a Frenchman as you a jewellery thief.”
New chucked again.
“Mais tu parles français."
“Mais oui. Every respectable pureblood wizarding family makes sure their children speak au moins un peu français. It proved to be invaluable on my travels... though my mum wasn’t thinking about my adventuring abroad when she forced me to study French as a child. She thought it would be instrumental in my finding a respectable wife...well anyway…” he trailed off awkwardly. “Et toi?”
“I always had a penchant for languages. I think it came from having difficulty communicating as a child. I always wanted to make sure I could speak to anyone who wished to speak to me. Plus, French is the language of good food, of wine, of poetry, arts, music...love,” he shrugged “Nous voilà.“
“Indeed, here we are.”
“Here we are, indeed.”
The silence stretched between them awkwardly.
Newt, blushing furiously, quickly said, “Llewellyn, I’ll take the cot...you deserve the luxurious sheets and pillows. I’ve slept in many an odd and uncomfortable place. Or I can just as easily magic a second bed….I...”
“I don’t mind sharing,” said Llewellyn quickly, interrupting Newt’s babbling. Llewellyn glanced at Newt cautiously, “Do you mind?”
“No! No - I just...I thought, I...no. It’s fine. I mean...It’s better than fine...that is...I don’t mind.”
Llewellyn looked at Newt squirm in amusement for a moment before pulling him roughly to himself and silencing him with a kiss. Newt relaxed into Llewellyn's arms, and kissed him back just a fervently. Llewellyn rested his forehead against Newt’s and smiled.
“Newt...it’s all alright.”
Newt met his eyes sheepishly, then slipped his arms around him.
They stood there for a while, embracing, and sneaking the occasional kiss. Just relishing the fact that they were both alive and well and present together. They only broke apart when Newt unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a humongous yawn.
“You must be exhausted. It’s very late,” said Llewellyn.
Newt offered Llewellyn first turn at the luxurious bathroom while he slipped into his case to settle his creatures in for the night.
“Do you need a hand, with your creatures, that is? You must be dead on your feet. I don’t mind,” said Llewellyn, hesitating at the door to the bathroom.
“Llewellyn, it’s all alright. I’ll be finished before you know it.”
In the end, when Newt emerged from his case, Llewellyn was already passed out on the bed, face-down on one of the silk pillows. Newt smiled to himself and watched him a moment...he looked so angelic and peaceful when he was asleep. Newt longed to run his fingers through Watt’s dark curls - still wet from the bath. Instead, he dried Watt’s hair with a quick wave of his wand. Then, he grabbed the second set of fancy pajamas, towels and bathrobe before heading to the bathroom to wash away the day’s adventures.
As he relaxed in the warmth of the bath, he felt the exhaustion of the day creep in on him. He blearily watched the brick dust and dirt swirl their way down the drain, thinking, with a pang, of Credence. He felt mentally, physically, and emotionally spent.
He dried his hair, and in his exhausted state, very nearly brushed his teeth with a comb before shaking himself awake long enough to grab a toothbrush instead.
When he finally slipped into the silky sheets, he felt himself sigh in relief. Newt was fast asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Llewellyn, deep as he was in dreamland, subconsciously snuggled closer to Newt, draping his arm protectively around him. And they slept on, lost to the world.
They still slept cuddled together long after the first rays of dawn touched the Toronto sky. It was only after the sun rose hot and bright over the city; after Tina left to begin her investigation into Percival Grave’s disappearance; after Murdoch returned from his early-morning mass to a lazy breakfast with Julia in their hotel suite; and after Brackenreid finished his breakfast and accompanied Margaret and the boys for a stroll in the park that Newt and Llewellyn finally woke to the hesitant knock at the door. The transition from sleep to wakefulness was sudden. Llewellyn's heart hammered loudly in his chest, and he immediately leapt from the bed onto the cot, and tried to make it look like he’d been there all night.
Newt quickly rushed to open the door. A still bashful and apologetic porter handed him a breakfast tray featuring the promised champagne and pastries amongst other things before departing quickly. Newt shrugged and brought it into the room. Llewellyn was sprawled on the cot, arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling pensively.
Newt set the tray on the small table by the window.
“You must be starving, Llewellyn...I believe the last we ate were those snowballs on the way to recapturing Leslie.”
Llewellyn sat up abruptly, “I believe you’re right! Well, let’s not waste any more time.”
He made his way over the table, paused a moment, then pecked Newt a quick kiss on the cheek as he’d seen many a couple do. “Good morning.”
Newt blushed prettily. His face split in a goofy grin. “‘Morning” said Newt cheerfully.
Llewellyn slipped into the seat across from him, a grin mirroring Newt’s on his own face.
“Shall I be mother?” asked Newt, reaching for the teapot.
“Please,” said Llewellyn handing him his teacup, as he reached for the champagne.
“Ruinart! Oh là là . Queenie has superb tastes.” He opened the bottle with a pop, and poured himself a taste in one of the hotel-provided crystal tulip champagne glasses, and held it up to the light, to see it better. He swirled it in his glass, then sniffed it, savouring the aroma. He took another sniff and nodded to himself, then he took a small sip and let it linger on his tongue. He swallowed it appreciatively
“Utterly flawless. Magnifique! Newt?”
“Tea first for me, I’m afraid. I need to wake up. I could easily have slept another few hours...milk and sugar?”
“Just milk, thanks,” said Llewellyn, slipping the bottle back into the ice bucket.
They feasted like royalty. Queenie was right, the chantilly cream was exquisite. As were the scones, croissants, fresh fruit, cucumber sandwiches, and other assortment of treats. They chatted amiably as they ate and drank their fill. The conversation flowed naturally from topic to topic with ease. It felt as if they’d known each other their entire lives. They spoke of poetry, particularly poets of the Romantic Era, philosophy, politics, travel, religion, music, arts, food, drink, sprinkled in with questions and anecdotes about each other and their lives.
Llewellyn leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his left palm, he looked across the table to Newt, his eyes warm. He observed the way the sunlight illuminated Newt’s copper hair - how it seemed to glow with its own magic. How the bruises on his cherubic face from that brute Samson had faded significantly from Newt’s magic salve. Today, those sea-coloured eyes which could turn so stormy and steely when those he cared about were threatened were tranquil and limpid as a fairy pool. He grinned...Newt had a dollop of chantilly cream on his nose, and Llewellyn certainly didn’t feel the need to tell him about it. Llewellyn went to take a sip of his champagne only to find his glass empty. He tried to refill their glasses, frowning at the now-empty bottle “...there’s never enough good champagne.”
Newt giggled, a little bit tipsy. The world seemed so bright and lovely this morning. Newt leaned across the table to kiss Llewellyn thoroughly.
“Ah Newt,” said Llewellyn affectionately. He grabbed his napkin and wiped the chantilly cream from Newt’s nose, chuckling to himself, then from his own face where Newt had managed to smear it.
Llewellyn reached out his hand to caress Newt’s where it sat on the table. Newt intertwined their fingers together, and gently brought Watt’s hand to his mouth to plant a gentle kiss to his knuckles.
A sharp tap on the door brought them back to reality.
“Are they bringing us second breakfast as an apology?” asked Llewellyn disbelieving. Newt got to his feet, unsteadily, still chuckling.
Llewellyn laughed as well and continued, “I don’t think I could eat another bite...but I wouldn’t say no to a bit more champagne.”
Newt opened the door a crack to reveal a beaming Queenie.
“Are you decent?”
Newt rolled his eyes and opened up the door.
“You are incorrigible, Miss Goldstein.”
Queenie laughed her musical laugh. She gracefully flopped into Newt’s vacated chair and stole the last mille-feuille off Newt’s plate.
“I came to see if you’re ready - we’re meeting the rest of the gang at Hanlan’s Point at one.”
“Nearly - we were merely having a leisurely breakfast,” said Newt.
“I can see,” said Queenie suggestively.
Newt blushed to the roots of his hair, “Not whatever you’re suggesting.”
“I hope you actually got some sleep last night,” said Queenie, winking at Llewellyn, who furrowed his brow.
“We did. We were so exhausted from the day's adventures that we'd have been hard pressed not to. The bed was most comfortable,” then he raised his eyebrows bemusedly, “Though, Mademoiselle Regine , you double-booked the Ambassador’s suite, leaving a very bashful hotel staff to relegate the Ambassador and his attaché to a single bed…”
“Oh, how silly of me,” said Queenie insincerely, a mischievous grin on her face.
Newt looked at her with raised eyebrows. Meddlesome witch.
“That wasn’t very nice Mr. Scamander,” said Queenie with a laugh.
“I did ask you to please stop reading my thoughts.”
“And I did tell you I can’t help it, Bunny,” she said seriously.
Newt sighed. “In any case...Thank you Queenie. It was very kind of you. We very much appreciate it,” said Newt finally.
“The champagne was exquisite,” agreed Llewellyn, “And the food, phenomenal.”
“And the company?” asked Queenie innocently, examining her nails.
“In the words of The Bard himself, “Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.”
“So the company was good?”
“Well, the wine was wonderful, the welcome great, the people…” he glanced up at Newt, “Utterly fantastic…” Newt blushed again as Queenie beamed.
“...So it’s reasonable to postulate that the company was also in fact the very best.”
“I’m so glad to hear,” said Queenie happily.
“And your evening, Miss Goldstein?” asked Llewellyn conversationally.
“Queenie, please.”
“Very well, your evening, Queenie ?”
“A lady does not kiss and tell.”
Llewellyn laughed.
“George is a fortunate man, Queenie.”
“He is indeed, and a very happy one, I might add. Though, he’ll be much happier if we get to the beach in time. I’ll leave you to get ready and go call on Detective Murdoch and Dr. Ogden. Get ready, mind. No dawdling,” she said wagging a finger at each of them. Then with a wink, she was gone.
* * * * * * *
On many a scorching summer day, like 30th August, 1925, Hanlan’s Point was a popular escape from the heat for the citizens of fair Toronto. In just a short ferry ride, one could while away the afternoon in any of the island’s attractions. Some sought to cheer on The Maple Leafs at the Hanlan's Point Stadium. There were also restaurants, tea houses, bars, vaudeville and theaters to visit. Others sought excitement at the famous Hanlan’s Point Amusement Park with its carousel, roller coasters, swing rides, carnival games and side-show entertainments, like the freak show and J.W. Gorman’s Diving Horses. Still others, like George, Queenie and their friends, arrived to pass the day picnicking and lounging at the beaches, or taking a refreshing swim in Lake Ontario.
"Diving horses?” asked Newt with furrowed brow, as they passed a series of advertisement posters while disembarking from the ferry, “That doesn’t seem particularly humane.”
“Oh, it’s quite a spectacle, Newt!” said George, as they made their way down to the beach. “According to the Star Weekly , they leap into the water ‘without a whip and with the horses’ own volition!’ They’ve toured much of North America with the show! Let's set down, here’s as good a spot as any!”
He set down the basket he was carrying under the shade of a tree, and spread a large flannel blanket on the sand.
“Wherever did you find such a blanket George? It fits us all comfortably,” said Julia sitting down.
“Queenie helped,” said George with a grin as Queenie began to pass out pasties wrapped in waxed paper and carefully tied in brown string to each of them. “Enlargement charm,” she said with a grin.
Newt sat down on the blanket near Llewellyn, and he procured several bottles from his pockets, as everyone stared at him with raised eyebrows.
“Undetectable expansion charms,” he said sheepishly. “And cooling charms,” he added as an afterthought.
“What was it you said about not enchanting things that could easily fall into muggle hands?” asked Llewellyn teasingly, as he took a bottle from Newt.
Newt and Queenie smiled and pretended not to hear as Newt opened another bottle and offered it to Queenie.
“Butterbeer?”
“You’re a doll!” she said and took a sip with a sigh.
“This is Butterbeer!? This is utterly delicious!” said George excitedly. "I'd be happy to drink this any time with you, Queenie."
"Georgie!" she said, beaming radiantly.
“I dunno, I preferred the firewhisky,” said Brackenreid.
Newt laughed. “I have some more of it if you’d like Inspector, though I daresay, it’s not the best thing to drink on a hot beach day. Detective?” he asked, offering a Butterbeer to Murdoch.
“I’d rather not.”
“Oh William, do try it. It’s delicious,” said Julia.
“Very low alcohol content, Detective. Almost like a spruce beer,” said Llewellyn.
Murdoch looked at their expectant faces.
“Very well,” he said, reaching for the bottle.
“That’s the spirit!” said Brackenreid with a cheer.
They had a lovely afternoon, feasting on Queenie’s cooking, and washing it down with Newt’s seemingly endless supply of Butterbeers. Even Newt and Llewellyn who were still full from their decadent breakfast still managed to taste everything.
They exchanged stories about their adventures from the day before. The tale of George and Leslie the Leucrotta had the Inspector and Queenie in stitches.
“So, how did you come to meet Madam King?” asked Murdoch to Brackenreid.
“Well, you lot left me without a word most of the day. When it started to get late and I still hadn’t heard from you, I began to worry. Meyers showed up around the same time we received word of the destruction at The New Salem Society. We ended up there together. I let him in on Mr. Scamander’s obscurus theories, told him what you’d told me about Graves and Samson, and then...what was that turn of phrase you used, Scamander? ‘I merely pointed out some facts’ and made some suggestions. He’s a pompous git, but he’s an effective bugger when he puts his mind to it. He drag-along disappeared with me directly to the Magical Prime Minister’s office in Ottawa. Can you imagine? Travelling 200 miles. Like that!” he snapped. “It wreaked havoc on my stomach to be honest. I nearly lost my dinner. That tosser laughed.” Brackenreid shook his head.
“But we made it Madam King’s office. She’s a powerful woman. Beautiful. Dangerous. All the things you hope to find in a woman. And a leader. We explained it all to her, and she immediately got to action. Spoke to some people and then…” he snapped again. “We were back at Don Valley Bricks.”
Llewellyn watched Newt as the Inspector spoke... he deflated and hunched in on himself. Newt’s eyes grew sad. Llewellyn longed to slip an arm over Newt’s shoulders, to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright, or at the very least to hold his hand as he obviously was struggling with guilt, sorrow, regret, and anger.
Queenie glanced at Llewellyn and shot him a sad smile, then she said, “You were fantastic, Newt.”
He looked resolutely down at his hands as he fiddled with the sand, letting it slip from his fingers and trickle back down to earth. In his mind’s eye, he saw Credence, and the sand became brick dust, and his fingers the tendrils of the obscurus and for a moment, he was reliving that horrific moment in which that young life was lost.
“Don’t blame yourself, Bunny! There was nothing you could have done!” she continued.
“I should have done more. Should have seen it sooner. I could have saved him.”
“None of that, lad,” said the Inspector in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, things will go wrong. It’s always rough, it’s always painful. You can’t save everyone. You tried so hard, and you’ve done so much good. Your conscience should be clear.”
Newt shrugged. Brackenreid gruffly slapped Newt on his back.
Suddenly, they heard shrieks, and two young boys came sprinting out of the water. They were all at attention instantly.
“Oy, lads - what happened?” asked Brackenreid.
“There’s something in the water! A monster! As big as a horse with massive teeth!” and they ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Newt sprang to his feet and took off in the opposite direction, towards the water.
The rest of the group got to their feet and raced after Newt. “It’s like your lake monster all over again, William!” said Julia.
Newt had made his way to the edge of the pier and scrambled over the wooden beams and piles.
He froze disbelieving, glancing back over his shoulder at his friends gathered on the shore, and laughed, rather hysterically. He took off his jacket, his vest, and his shoes and left them on the shore.
They looked at him utterly confused, and a bit concerned.
“Newt? Are you alright?” asked George.
“SQUIRRELS, SPARROWS AND GEESE MY HAT,” he shouted, then put his wand in his mouth, opened his case and, laying it down on a support beam, he dove into the water.
“Newt?!” asked Llewellyn. They all ran to the water’s edge. There was no sign of Newt. The seconds ticked by and still he did not resurface. Llewellyn felt the panic begin to build.
All of a sudden there was a roiling strew of bubbles, and Newt burst above the surface of the waves, riding a…
“KELPIE?!” asked Brackenreid, utterly stunned.
Newt laughed, and guided the water horse over to them. As they approached the case, Newt leapt off the creature, catching himself on the pier’s supports. The kelpie snorted and threw back his head and whinnied, before being sucked into Newt’s case.
Newt scrambled back across the beams, still chucking to himself.
“A bloody kelpie...in Lake Ontario?” Said Brackenreid, utterly astonished.
“I did not know what to expect when I came to Toronto, but it has most certainly not disappointed. Sweet Merlin! A kelpie in Lake Ontario…” he shook his head grinning like mad.
He looked like a wet puppy, his copper hair plastered to his face. He was dripping from his red bow tie to his mismatched socks, but was totally pleased.
“You’re all wet,” said Llewellyn in a rather amused tone.
“I’ll dry,” said Newt with a dismissive wave to his hand. He slipped his shoes, vest and jacket back on. Pickett crawled out of his jacket’s breast pocket and gave him a thorough scolding.
“Sorry Pickett!” He said sheepishly. He started to walk briskly back up the shore, his shoes squelching.
"Where are you going, Newt?" asked George.
“I would like a word with Mr. J.W. Gorman about exploiting XXXX-rated magical creatures for entertainment. Particularly around unsuspecting muggle bathers. Any one of them could have ended up lunch.”
“Newt, wait!” Said George. “Are you suggesting King and Queen, the famous diving horses are…”
“Kelpies,” said Newt in a matter-of-fact tone, “Possibly just one Kelpie. They're shape-shifters after all. No ordinary horse would willingly perform that feat.”
“Newt, wait!” Said Queenie urgently, in a very different tone from George. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“What’s-“
“It’s Tina!”
She nodded up the beach to a solitary figure in a dark auror robe making her way over to them.
As she got closer, George called out, “Auror Goldstein, so glad you could join us! You’ll never believe what Newt just discovered-“ but he stopped abruptly at Tina’s troubled face.
“What’s wrong?” asked Newt quickly.
“Oh, Teenie!” Said Queenie with a hand over her mouth.
“It’s Grindelwald. He’s escaped! A team of our best aurors were transporting him to Archambault Prison. He...he killed them all and escaped. Six highly trained wizards...They were good men,” said Tina sadly, “I was in the Auror academy with some of them...I…” her voice broke.
“Tina, I’m so sorry!” said Newt utterly horrified.
She swallowed, collected herself, and continued, “We don’t know where he got a wand, or where he’s headed. Samson’s also disappeared. We’re wondering if he was also in on it. We’ve called in our top aurors nationwide as well as the International Aurors' Alliance, to begin the hunt for Grindelwald."
“Oh, Tina!” Said Queenie, and she pulled her into a hug. Tina hugged her back.
When they split apart, Tina quickly rubber her eyes.
“Your brother is arriving soon, Newt. With a delegation of Britain's auror forces. They would like to ask you all some questions about what transpired yesterday. I was hoping these interviews could take place at Station House Four, as I’m not sure if bringing muggles to the CMP would be the best idea right now.”
“Of course,” said Brackenreid, “Is there anything else we can do to help?”
“I don’t even know...I…” she shook her head.
“It will be okay, Tina,” said Queenie gently.
Tina nodded, "We best get going. They should be arriving at Station House Four soon."
They packed up the remnants of their picnic, the mood now sombre. As they made their way to a secluded stretch of beach well-hidden by trees to apparate back to Station House Four, Newt looked another glance out to the water. Ominously dark storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. Newt felt unsettled. In spite of everything that had happened, he'd found so much joy in Toronto in such a short time - friends, laughter, understanding, adventure, and...above all...Llewellyn Watts. He feared this new development might destroy the little bubble of happiness he'd found.
Whatever was coming, at least they'd face it together.
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