Other Worlds
1914
1 When Professor Prewett walked up to Newt in the Hufflepuff Common Room, the latter already knew that something horrible was about to take place. It wasn’t just logical to assume this, despite Leta’s assurances that everything was going to be just fine (it couldn’t). The professor’s angular face was paler than usual. His brow was creased. He looked tense.
“Mister Scamander? Do you have a moment?”
Newt, who’d been sitting on one of the armchairs, reading a relatively new book about research on proper Hippogriff care, shot to his feet at once. “Of course.” The reply was weak, almost inaudible. Small wonder, really: his heart was about to jump out of his throat, and his stomach was sloshing with acid. This was bad. One didn’t need augury powers in order to be able to tell.
Professor Prewett fussed with one of the golden buttons of his dark-green waistcoat and cleared his throat. He looked down at his leather shoes, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then blew out a heavy breath. A few very awkward seconds of silence passed. Finally, he locked eyes with Newt again. “It’s about what happened to Alastair Fawley. His parents are here. The Headmaster, he, uh…” He inhaled deeply. “He needs to ask you a few questions. I’d advise you to tell the truth.”
People were pretending to not be staring at them, although they obviously were.
Where was Leta? She’d told Newt earlier that she needed to fetch a few books from the Library, but that had been over half an hour ago. His innards knotted even worse. She’d been caught, hadn't she? Leta had been caught, and now, she was most likely going to be expelled.
“Professor, I can’t incriminate anyone else,” he said quietly.
Prewett’s frown deepened. “You mean Petronius Flint? He already confessed his guilt and got a month’s worth of detention.”
This…this was a tad confusing. “Then why…”
Had Leta not been caught at all? Maybe they were only suspecting her. Was this all about that, then? The only logical explanation was that someone else had told on her and that they needed Newt to corroborate the story. He’d never do that to her, though. She’d done something stupid, yes, but she certainly did not deserve expulsion.
“Just come with me, please,” Prewett said. “And please, be honest. Lies or silence will only make everything worse.”
Newt said nothing. He followed the professor out of the basement, past the kitchen, upstairs, and to the Headmaster’s office.
All the while, they remained silent.
It was hard for Newt to say whether he was getting more anxious or less during those minutes. On one hand, his stomach was cramping, he was cold, and his mouth was dry. On the other hand, he also felt a bit disconnected from himself – as if none of this were actually happening. He hadn't done anything too bad…well, except for taking Leta into the Forbidden Forest, where she got the bundimun in the first place. He’d been told not to go there anymore, and now, he had.
But Leta hadn't talked. Nobody knew that they’d gone into the forest.
Everyone knew, however, that Newt had a penchant for breaking rules when those rules kept him away from nature. Who else would’ve given Leta access to the bundimun? Of course he’d be implicated. Of course he’d be questioned, especially if Leta refused to talk. Of course. He’d broken the rules, too, after being repeatedly told to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. Not only that: he’d taken another student with him, and that student had almost poisoned someone as a result.
In a sense, what had happened was partly his fault, too.
They’d probably put pressure on him to tell on Leta by threatening to punish him for his infractions if he didn’t.
As he climbed the stone steps to the Headmaster’s office, his stomach lurched worse than ever. Acid shot up his gullet. However this whole episode went, it was not going to be ‘just fine’. There would be consequences. There were always consequences.
2 There was always something to worry about, wasn’t there? There were her scores, the family, the friends. There was reconciling everyone’s opinions on magic superiority or lack thereof with her own feelings about the subject. Today, however, Celestia could worry about nothing but the whole Leta Lestrange affair. How could Alastair ever think that his little let’s-just-all-keep-quiet nonsense could work? It couldn’t. No-one was going to go for it, least of all his parents – his parents, who were on their way to Hogwarts, would not accept this. They would never just shrug, accept the almost-death of their son as having been a dumb accident, and then go back home. Someone would have to take the fall. Celestia knew them well enough to be able to predict this with absolute certainty.
Alastair, however, didn’t want to hear any of it.
When Mister and Misses Fawley showed up, very upset and understandably enraged, Celestia excused herself. She needed to walk a few steps, breathe fresh air, clear her head. The horrible anxiety of the hours she’d spent waiting for Alastair to be out of the woods was gone. Now, she felt heavy, drained, hollow, as if she hadn't slept for a century. Without even thinking of going back to the Dungeons to grab her overcoat, she half-walked, half-lurched outside. The air was dry and so cold that it punched the breath right out of her. Immediately, her whole body tensed up. Her eyes watered, her nostrils burned, her hands hurt. But the sharp, crystal freshness breathed some life back into her. She stood in the entrance courtyard, looked out at the cobbled square, the stone archways, the benches, the snow and beyond, toward the frozen lake that glittered in the pale sunshine. It was beautiful, no doubts there – beautiful and venerable.
Back in her childhood days, when she and Mother and Nana had visited their father during term, she’d always fantasised about her own future Hogwarts adventures. She’d been impatient and had counted the days until her letter finally arrived. When it did, it was one of the happiest days of her life. Even now, she remembered that moment with fondness and warmth.
She would never have believed that one day, she’d be involved in something so ugly. For the first time in her life, she could understand those who complained about the endless political machinations of the old Pureblood families. If even they, as Hogwarts students, couldn’t keep themselves from getting sucked into this maelstrom of lies and schemes and corruption, what hope did the future hold for ever improving? None, that was what. It was a tad depressing, to say the least. The worst part of it was, Celestia didn’t have it in herself to break free of it – for what, anyway? What good would alienating her family and friends do? They all believed that they were doing the right thing. Who was she to preach and judge?
These, of course, were nothing but rationalisations. She knew that. Nobody wanted to look inside themselves and find spinelessness.
When she heard the sound of steps approaching, bouncing off the stone structures and echoing through the courtyard, she didn’t turn around.
“There’s no need to worry,” a voice said to her left. It was Apollo.
“Then why am I?” she retorted, not looking at him. “Worrying?”
“Because that’s what you always do. You never seem quite able to turn off your brain.”
She tried to detect condescension or disdain or any number of unpleasant things in his voice, but found none. Her arms, only covered by the relatively thin fabric of her uniform jacket, broke out in gooseflesh. She hugged them closely to her chest. “Alley said that no-one will be punished for what happened to him, but that’s a lie. He just wants to calm me down.” She looked down at her shoes for a few seconds. “I hate that, but I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it. I don’t want to argue with him…or any of you, for that matter.”
“That’s not cowardice; it’s loyalty.” He draped something around her shoulders: her coat. That was strangely touching, wasn’t it? He’d gone back to the Dungeons to get her coat. Well, even Apollo had his chivalrous moments. One had to grant him that.
“Loyalty?” She shrugged into the coat and buttoned it shut. “So you agree that someone is being set up to fall.”
“You’re right: it’s the logical conclusion. Nobody has to get punished badly, mind you. Ronny got detention. He, Alastair, and Lestrange will keep quiet about the rest. The matter could just go away. None of us will snitch.”
Slowed down by the cold, she turned to face him. “But it won’t go away. Something like this never just goes away. Alley’s parents won’t go quietly. Headmaster Black won’t just let it slide, either – nor will the Board of Governors. He needs to make an example of someone. Otherwise, the pressure from the Pureblood families will become too great; the Fawleys have a lot of influence.” She shrugged. “If we don’t tell the truth, it’ll be our fault when someone does take a fall. We might as well lie about it. It’d be the same thing.”
A tiny frown creased his forehead. A strand of his almost white hair slid down over his right eye. He brushed it away with a black-leather-gloved hand. “No, it wouldn’t.”
Despite the refreshing cold, she felt heavier and wearier than ever. “Apollo, we both know who’ll get blamed for this sorry debacle. He doesn’t have any influential relatives to get him out of this pickle once he gets implicated.” She chewed on the inside of her lower lip. “He’ll get thrown out of Hogwarts.”
And there it was: disdain contorted his otherwise pleasant features. “All Scamander needs to do is tell the truth.”
She made a face. “As if he’d ever do that. He’s a better person than any of us.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed with exasperation before reaching out and grabbing her by her bony shoulders. “You’re not to lose your nerve.”
Glowering up at him, she said, “In true Malfoy fashion, you just have to resort to intimidation and force when you don’t get your way by being polite. Do not threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening you,” he said, and smiled a little. As the idiom went, it didn’t even remotely reach his eyes. “I’m only appealing to your common sense. Don’t let foolish sentimentality get in the way. You’ll only make things harder for yourself in the future.”
What an odd thing to say. All of a sudden, the cold didn’t feel refreshing anymore, but paralysing. She was chilled to the bone despite her thick coat. Her mouth felt dry and cottony. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice came out quiet and somewhat subdued. This was another thing that she hated: her fearfulness.
The smile grew a bit. “It’s supposed to mean that we’re all just part of the bigger picture, Celestia. Our actions must always serve the greater good: the prosperity of our families. Our families expect us to do our duty without complaint. If you cannot keep quiet for the sake of family and duty, then how do you expect to make greater personal sacrifices in the future that will doubtlessly be required of you?”
Her stomach panged. This didn’t bode well at all. “You clearly know something I don’t.”
“One day, you will know it, too. Until then, take heed of my words.” He then proceeded to do a very strange thing: he leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. “And do hold your tongue on this matter. It will not do for you to unravel our plans just because you feel sorry for a nobody like Scamander.” Without waiting for a reply, he let go of her and marched back inside the castle.
For half an eternity, she just stood there, flabbergasted, staring after him in silence.
3 “Mister Scamander, please have a seat,” Headmaster Black told Newt, and motioned to a chair by the desk. He was sitting at the other side, Professor Dumbledore to his left.
Both Newt and Professor Prewett sat down side by side.
The fact that Dumbledore, champion of the underdog, was present and looking rather unhappy was not a good sign.
“Mister Scamander, you probably know why we called you here today,” Professor Black said gravely. He seemed even less good-natured than usual, which was saying something.
Newt swallowed dryly. “It’s about what happened to Alastair Fawley.” He shifted his weight and started drumming on the arms of his chair with his cold, clammy fingers.
Professor Black’s scowl deepened. “Would you care to make a confession? This is your last chance.”
Acid sloshed in Newt’s stomach. What was he supposed to do? Rat Leta out? He couldn’t do that. She’d get thrown out of Hogwarts. He couldn’t be responsible for putting her through that kind of hell. Of course, one could argue that she’d be reaping what she sowed, but he didn’t think he could bear causing her any kind of pain. He looked from Black to Dumbledore and back again. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Alastair, but I’m very sorry he got hurt.”
Black beheld him coldly. “Hurt? Scamander, he almost perished. Have you so little gallantry in you that you cannot even admit to your guilt? Your classmate narrowly escaped death!”
“My guilt?” Newt shook his head. His eyes darted from the Headmaster to Dumbledore, then to Professor Prewett. “But I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t a part of this.”
“No-one is claiming that you had any ill intent, my boy,” Dumbledore said, clearly trying to be a calming influence on everyone present.
“Don’t presume to speak for all of us, Albus,” Black countered. He narrowed his eyes at Newt again. “So you deny going into the Forbidden Forest and handling those disgusting pests?”
That was when the truth dawned on Newt: they all believed he had tricked Petronius Flint into poisoning Alastair. Well, of course they did: he was the one with the track record, wasn’t he? Out of all students, he was the one who ventured deepest into the Forbidden Forest, who didn’t listen to admonitions, who didn’t care that everyone thought him odd for his love of all fantastic beasts. Everyone also knew that he and Leta were close, and that she hated Alastair Fawley. Everyone knew about what had happened during the Yule Ball. Little later, Alastair almost got killed by a strange little creature found in the forest, and Newt claimed innocence? Even he wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t know better.
Then, there was Leta’s refusal to take responsibility. There was whatever strange deal she’d made with Alastair, too. Could…could she…
No, the thought was too horrifying to contemplate. She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t. Never, not in a million years would she set him up to take the fall in her stead – never. No.
Or would she?
He got a little queasy and cold as ice. Briefly, he wondered whether being frozen by the Hibernus Horridus would feel much frostier than he was feeling now. No, Leta would never set him up on purpose. The question was: would she keep quiet once she found out that he’d been implicated in her place?
Of that, he wasn’t even half as sure.
“Well?” Black demanded. “Do you deny it?”
“Newt, think about your next words very carefully,” Prewett said, sounding honestly concerned. “Only the truth will help you now.”
“The most important thing,” Dumbledore said, briefly raising his hands in a placatory gesture, “the thing we must all keep in mind is that Mister Fawley’s sickness was a highly unlikely accident, and that he will make a full recovery.”
Somehow, none of this felt real. It was as if Newt were caught in some kind of bizarre, ridiculous nightmare. He unsuccessfully tried swallowing down the knot in his throat. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
Prewett placed his left hand on Newt’s right shoulder. “We realise that you didn’t mean to hurt your classmate, Newt – really, we do. But you need to be a little more forthcoming, too. Who else would’ve removed that disgusting thing from the forest?”
Newt’s face got hot. He bristled. “It’s not a thing. It’s a creature that has as much right to live as we do. All I did was try to move them deeper into the forest, so that the groundskeeper wouldn’t kill them. I would never endanger one of them by bringing them into the castle, where they’d be found for sure.”
“So you admit that you went into the Forbidden Forest despite being warned not to, after being punished for doing so multiple times,” Black said coolly. “You even admit to moving the pests, yet you will not take responsibility for what happened to Mister Fawley?”
He thought of Leta’s panic and of how she’d told him about making a deal with Alastair. Maybe she really hadn't known that he’d be blamed, instead. In the end, it didn’t matter much. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and collected himself. “I understand I played a part in what happened, but I would never, never endanger either an innocent creature or a classmate. I didn’t ask Petronius Flint to place the bundimun next to Alastair’s bed.”
“Then who did?” Black said.
Newt said nothing. He couldn’t. If he did, Leta’s fate would be sealed. He couldn’t do that to her, no matter what her silence might do to him.
Black sneered at him. “That’s what I thought. It would seem that your classmates, Mister Fawley and Mister Flint, have a great deal more moral fibre than you do.”
“Headmaster, please don’t jump to such harsh and unwarranted conclusions,” Prewett said, sounding rather upset. “Mister Scamander is a good student with a very good and honest character, his idiosyncrasies notwithstanding.”
“No-one should be judged just because his or her hobbies don’t correspond to those of the minority,” Dumbledore said.
“Well, someone has to be punished,” Black said. “The Board of Governors is already breathing down my neck. The Fawleys were very clear, too. I have to act. You both know that we have no other suspects.”
Dumbledore squinted at Black over the rim of his glasses. “Don’t we? Maybe someone should talk to Mister Flint again.” He turned to Prewett. “Or your daughter, Morgan.”
“My daughter has nothing to do with this sorry business,” Prewett retorted, piqued. “She would never do anything to harm Alastair, and you know it. Besides, my Celestia is not one to play pranks – my eldest is, but not little Tia.”
“It just seems to me that Mister Fawley’s Slytherin classmates know more than they’re letting on.”
It was Black’s turn to bristle. “Don’t blame my students for being discreet. You’ve always had prejudices against Slytherin House, but this is ridiculous! Apart from Petronius, none of them is at fault, and Petronius confessed at once. He immediately showed willingness to accept punishment for his part in this sorry interlude, even though no foul play was intended from his part.” He glared at Newt. “If you won’t come clean, then I’ll have no choice but to throw you out of Hogwarts.”
Was any of this really happening? Was he really here, on the verge of expulsion? A small part of him still hoped Leta would burst into the room and clear up the mess she’d made, but he knew that that would never happen. He was on his own to reap the consequences of his carelessness and his trust in her. He felt ill. “I can’t say more than I already have.”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
“Phineas…”
“No, Albus! The line must be drawn somewhere, and this is it! The boy has brought this on himself.”
“Please reconsider,” Prewett said, not sounding all too hopeful. “Mister Scamander is such a bright, gentle, good-hearted young man. He-”
“No,” Black repeated with emphasis. He gave Newt a cold look. “Mister Scamander, I regret to inform you that from this moment forward, you are expelled from this school. An owl will be sent to your parents at once. You can take the train tomorrow morning back to London.”
4 Newt went back toward the basement in something of a trance. Before he left the Headmaster’s office, Professor Prewett clapped him on the shoulder and Professor Dumbledore started to protest, but Newt knew that the decision was final. The Hogwarts Board of Governors was filled with friends and allies of the Fawleys. Those who were not their friends would doubtlessly be bullied into caving into their demands, as it already had so often been the case. Their son had almost died. Heads needed to roll – well, one head, at least. The other parents would be shocked enough to support this, no doubt. After all, the official story was that loony Newt Scamander had brought a dangerous pest into the castle and almost murdered one of his classmates in the process. Ill intend didn’t even matter in this context. It had happened. Newt had got blamed. Now, he had to pay the price.
Hardly conscious of his movements, he went down the stairs to the basement, past the kitchen, and to the door that led to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Someone was waiting there for him, but not the person he’d expected – well, hoped to find.
It was Celestia Prewett. She looked pale, slightly dishevelled, and uncharacteristically distraught. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose reddish. When she spotted him, she stopped pacing, uncrossed her arms, and faced him.
For a few seconds, they just stood there, scrutinising each other. It was awkward, to say the least.
At length, she pressed her trembling fist to her lips, discreetly cleared her throat, and said, “Did you talk to Professor Black?”
“Yes. He decided to expel me.” His voice was calm and monotonous. It was as if he were beside himself, watching himself speak.
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’m to pack my things and leave tomorrow morning.” He motioned at the door. “Please let me pass.”
“I…God, I am so sorry.”
“Sorry enough to do something about it?”
She recoiled and looked at him as if he’d slapped her. “Your…friend almost killed my Alastair. I didn’t do anything.”
“And then, my friend and yours conspired to get me tossed out of Hogwarts.” It started to sink in, finally. The cold drained from his body. His face felt hot. His hands were shaking. He tasted bile. For the first time in his life, he felt like just storming away and wishing everything and everyone to hell – everyone except the magical creatures he loved surrounding himself with. Those didn’t conspire and manipulate and backstab. “You know the truth, Celestia. Would you tell it to your father? Would you tell it to your uncle or great cousin or whatever Headmaster Black is to you? Would you?”
She bit her lower lip and looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I wish I could – really, I do.”
“You keep telling yourself that.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his messy, ruddy hair. “Do you want forgiveness ? Do you want me to absolve you because of your good intentions? I could, but I won’t. You’re all the same.” He snorted wryly. “At least Leta finally got her wish. It’s what she always wanted, isn't it? To be one of you. Today’s the day. Me getting thrown out and the bundimun population in the Forbidden Forest dying is just collateral damage to you lot. Now can I get into my Common Room? You’re not invited.”
“You have every reason to hate the lot of us,” she said quietly. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m sorry.” She hurried away, her steps echoing in the stone corridor.
He didn’t find it in himself to regret having brought her to tears. In all probability, he would, given enough time, since it wasn’t in his nature to hold grudges. Also, as part of his brain reminded him, peer pressure among Slytherins was considerable. That wasn’t an excuse, though, and for the moment, he reserved the right to wish all of them to jump into a bottomless pit.
His things were packed quickly. The dormitory and the Common Room were pretty much empty. It would take a while until the news spread. The last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone about this. Good God. What would his parents say? What would he do now? What future did a wizard without a school diploma even have in this world? He dropped himself on one of the sofas and buried his burning hot face in his icy hands. His head pounded. There was a sour taste in his mouth. His stomach was roiling. What was he supposed to do? His thoughts raced, but were muddled, angry, and confused.
“Newt?”
The sound of that voice sent a hot poker through his innards. Slowly, he raised his head.
Leta was standing right in front of him, looking cautiously optimistic. What a joke this was.
He’d been so absorbed in his misery that he hadn't even heard her come inside.
There were just the two of them in there now.
“I know now what your deal with Alastair was,” he said quietly, his voice raspy. “It worked, you’ll be glad to know. I was expelled. You’re safe.”
She stared at him, visibly flummoxed. “They think it was you.”
He nodded. “What did you expect? What did you think was going to happen, here? Hm? You didn’t tell the truth, and neither did your new best mates over at Slytherin House. Someone had to be blamed.”
“So…you didn’t tell them that it was me.”
“Are you serious?” He watched her incredulously, wide-eyed. “I just told you that I got tossed out, and all you care about is whether I told on you or not? How selfish are you?”
“Newt…”
“Do you even regret what you’ve done? Any of it? Lying to me? Manipulating me? Almost murdering Alastair? Getting the bundimun colony exterminated? Getting me thrown out of Hogwarts? Any of it?” When she didn’t say anything, he scoffed and waved off. “I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have trusted you. All you do is take.”
“That’s not true. I need to look out for myself, you know. Maybe you should start doing the same.”
The cheek of it! It was infuriating, yes, but mostly, it was depressing. “Are you even listening to yourself? Do not turn this around on me.”
She gave him that narrow-eyed, obstinate look she always reserved for the Slytherins – well, up until now. “I’m not doing anything of the sort. It’s not my fault that you’re unable to defend yourself. I couldn’t have foreseen that you’d get blamed!”
“Couldn’t you? Really?” All of this was just too much. He took a deep breath, pushed himself to his feet, and started heading toward his dormitory. At least she couldn’t follow him there. “Tell yourself whatever you need to in order to make yourself feel better. That doesn’t make it the truth. You wanted to be accepted by your Pureblood peers? You wanted them to respect you? Well, congratulations. You got your wish.” Not waiting for a reply, because even the sound of her voice was making him sick at this point, he marched away and left her standing there.