“Hello.” Slowly leaning over to set his beloved case at his feet, Newt takes a moment to contemplate how to approach, before making his decision and lowering himself to sit right before the edge of the table that sharply divides the light of the bulbs above and the darkness on the other side. “I’m Newt. Newt Scamander.” Tilting his head intentionally seems to ease the little one’s tension if only slightly. “I understand yours to be Modesty.” Young frightened eyes widen at the call of her name. “Your last name though, that was your adopted one, yes?” Not a single movement. “But from what I’ve researched, in what little time I had mind you, your true origins lay more in Celtic regions.” The little one perks up slightly. “From what I’ve found you come from a very long line of Fairy Doctors.”
Reaching carefully into his vest pocket, the magizoologist– “I’ve come to understand you detest any signs of magic, and far it be from me to lecture one on their life decisions.” His not so subtle glance in his older brother’s direction is received as it’s intended to have been. “But you see, your magic specializes in just what I happen to need most at the moment.” Modesty crawls closer to the man when he withdrawals his hand, cradled in his palm a fuzzy creature, like that of an otter but then not. Small, little, like her, just a baby. “I managed to locate your papers, those of your parents, more precisely your father–Dafydd Hickey. Though when immigrating was changed, wasn’t it?”
“Healy.” Children, frightened and unsure and traumatized were very much like the creatures Newt Scamander took into his care. This was not part of his life plan, per say, but to care for the last living being that his Failure with the poor Obscurial that was once Credence Barebone, if that was his way of keeping to his promise on technicality then so be it. “Ma says no.”
“Ah, but that's where we’re at a crossroads, you see, my fuzzy little friend here is in quite the bad way. The magic passed through your generations is very well what could keep him alive and well.” The ginger haired man slowly holds his hands out, the Niffler pup whining at the movement, it takes all his willpower not to immediately withdraw. “Would you care to hold him?”
Frightened little eyes glance between soft green and the suffering little one between them.
“Name?”
Newt gestures slightly with his elbow, trying his best not to startle the very subject of the true matter before them. Theseus takes his cue, ushering those who have no need to be present from the room, though their relationship has strained over years never let it be said they would not respond to the other’s call should it be ever simple or not. “It hasn’t gotten one yet, perhaps you can give one?”
Modesty carefully lifts the sickly creature from his hands, hers so very frigid against his palms and fingers, carefully but with haste she pulls back. Cradling the little thing to her thin chest. Humming down at it. “Gethin?”
Those remaining in the room smile. “Because he has dark fur?” The little girl nods. “He can be yours, a friend, if only you could help make him better. I’m afraid there’s little I can do at this point.” Not necessarily a lie, Newt was running out of remedies, born a runt and with sickness to boot. He was running sparse on possibilities. “You’re my only hope, little one, for my little friend's wellbeing.”
Modesty Hickey eyes him contemplatively, close and observant, waiting for any hint of trickery. Lifting the little creature in her arms closer, she bends forward, never breaking eye contact with the Wizard before her and pressing her lips to the top of the baby creature’s silky head.
The little thing squeaks, a silver shimmer encasing its form for a brief spell, he raises a hand at the sound of astonished footsteps desiring to see the truth in his assumption. “Beautiful. Well done, little one. You know,” he pats his case lightly. “Being a Magizoologist, that being my career, is a quite lonely business.” Modesty crawls closer and smiles softly when he shakes his hands lightly in denial when she tries to offer his baby Niffler back. “I could use an assistant.”
…..
“You stay here, Little Madam, we don’t want you coming to harm. Now do we?” Modesty giggles softly when her adopted parent pokes her nose lightly, shaking her head when it pokes again, the man straightens with a smile. “Keep close watch of my things now, will you?”
Smiling at her soft giggling, Newt points a warning down to her silently, before jumping into the cool Scottish Loch with little more than a sparse break of water as a splash. She’s been to so many wonderful places in her time with him. Never being rebuffed harshly when she asks questions. Hands never smacked away with she tugs on his pants leg, belt, suspender, shirt sleeve, any part of him she can reach with the only desire being to be held for a brief period.
Newt only smiles at her questions, answering them to the best of his ability, helping her find the right answer when he’s not sure of his knowledge himself. Always turning at her tugging request to lift her up into his arms, for any duration of time she desires, rubbing her back when she rests her head on his shoulder. Encouraging her magic, even when it’s accidental, excited even if it breaks something or causes something to go wrong.
She dips her pale feet into the chilly waters, setting the man’s items on the rock next to her, kicking her feet lightly as her mind wanders.
The moment in that room, when he told her she could keep Gethin, she’d seen the man that Credence had promised would keep her safe before the mist disappeared entirely. It wouldn’t be the first nor last time she ever crawled into the man’s lap.
Modesty did so frequently. Sometimes he’d even snag her by the waist and pull her close himself. She especially liked sitting in his lap while he worked on his book, watching him write, the delicate way he illustrated what he was writing about with a beautiful drawing of it.
Or when it was snowing and the outside was all white and she’d come peek out the window next to the chair he’d be sitting in going through the post and he’d scoop her up to sit with him.
Never getting annoyed when she’d climb into his embrace when they visited the friends he made in America, Newt would only hum and curl his arms around her, wiggling fingers into her sides at just the right moment to entice a fit of giggles.
Teaching her of her family roots, and even finding a few distant cousins to write back and forth with, inviting her and her papa to come visit when his busy work allowed it. Newt promised they’d try to take them up on their invitation sometime in September, just before the first winter snow, and she believed his promise without need of physical proof.
She misses Credence, her big brother, protector from Ma. She cries into Newt’s shoulder sometimes, never told to hush, he merely goes about what he’d been doing when she comes for his comfort or when he’d paused to lift her into his comfort on his own, scratching lightly at the back of her head with one hand while his other arm keeps her in place as she slowly falls asleep on his shoulder.
Pulled from her thoughts at once when fingers itch over the bottom of her tiny left foot, she shrieks a giggle and immediately makes to yank them back, long scarred fingers catch her ankle, and she squeals when she’s yanked into the Loch too.
Newt smiles at her once she opens her eyes, pressing a finger to his lips as he holds her just a tad closer, before pointing off into the distance. It takes a moment, her eyes squinting for a more focused point, before they widen and she turns back to her ‘Boss’ with exhilaration and wonder.
Loch Ness was not as empty as assumed.
The aquatic creature had given birth to a young cub.
They both watch with similar states of amazement before the need to resurface for air hits the man, before it does the little one in his arm, he never lets their underwater adventures get that far that her lungs know the burn from lack and therefore need of oxygen.
….
“Newt, why’d you bring me home with you?” This is not the first time the question had been posed. And not once has his answer ever swayed in any manner. “When you came only for Credence?”
“I made a promise to your brother.” He smiles at the gifted shriek of giggles when he tosses her onto his bed so as he can ensure their packing contains all they’ll need for their trip. “That I would help. I meant what I said. You were very important to him, I knew the moment I first saw the pair of you with that vile woman the day I arrived in New York. His focus appeared to be to his feet, but his eyes, they remained locked upon you.” Newt holds his hand out and waits patiently for his stolen watch to be returned. Shaking his head in endeared amusement when she giggles softly and places it into his palm. “You were the world to him, Niffler Enabler, my promise to save him did not solely mean him alone.”
“D’you think Credence knows I live with you?”
“I like to think he most certainly does.” The Magizoologist pauses. “Where are your dress shoes?” And goes through the pack again just to be sure. “I see your boots, yes, but your dress shoes..”
She turns away from his stern knowing glance. “Dunno.”
“Modesty.” Shrugs. The little imp shrugs. “Niamh.”
Not the true name. That’s not fair. “I don’t like’em!”
“If those shoes aren’t gone for in the next ten seconds I’m going to take hold of one of those little feet and–”
“No! They don’t feel right!”
They stare at each other for a long moment, before the man lunges and she shrieks as she jumps, shrieking with laughter when fingers catch her by the ankle, kicking when fingers flutter lightly over the bottom of her small foot. “Did you just challenge me?” Shrieking again when she’s yanked back over the edge of the bed squealing with laughter when fingers explore down her side and then over her belly. “You don’t challenge papa, little one, for papa always wins.”
…..
“Woah, that’s a big snake!” An arm snags her around the middle and tugs her back within seconds of her reaching out. “Woah! Papa!”
“Of course it is, sweet, the King Of Snakes would need to be the largest.” Newt looks carefully between his closest friend and the massive beast. “Steer clear, my love, though dead its venom is still just as dastardly. I couldn’t bear losing you.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry over, love.” She leans into the kiss against the side of her head. “Just stay with me, alright?” Turning once assured she was content in his hold. “Either the Basilisk has been hibernating or someone has been feeding it, for it grow this large in the time between poor Myrtle’s passing and now, there is no other explanation. It would have died years ago if there was no way of maintaining itself.”
“We only just discovered it, my oldest friend.” Albus Dumbledore smiles at the girl when she waves despite the seriousness of the situation. “We have no way of knowing how long it’s been down here and how it’s managed to survive.”
“That’s what has me so concerned. There is only one known way one may breed a Basilisk and that's been illegal since–” Watching his daughter for a moment, mind wandering to the possibilities, how much a mess he’d have been if he’d received notice that his little one was down here with it. “The children, Potter and Weasley, are they alright?”
“A bit shaken, no doubt, but all wounds have been tended to. Presently residing in their respective parent’s care.” He hate to bring the notion about. “Harry’s Godfather, Sirius Black, is going to want answers.”
“As I would expect of any parent or guardian.” Curling his head around the back of the little blonde head, the Magizoologist turns for the other end of the tunnel, the Headmaster falling in step beside him. “I will give him the answers I have, though they are vastly limited, let it be comforting to know that there is no recorded history of a Basilisk ever producing its own offspring.”
…..
“Newt, what if they don’t like me?” She hides away in the man’s shoulder as they gain closer and closer to the dock. “What if?”
“Then we shall make our departure to our other excursion that brought us to Ireland.” There’s a heavy knocking when the ferry bumps into the dock, the man holds steady, not dropping his case or child. Newt had his reservations about accepting the one cousin’s invitation for a stay, but his little one had been so excited, he couldn’t not respond in the positive. “Have no fears, my darling burdock.”
They meet a woman, young, perhaps around Leta’s age with dark auburn curls and stormy blue eyes. The relation is confirmed through the eyes. Aisling Hickey is immediately taken with her distant American cousin.
Sensing the man’s hesitance to let the girl wander far from his side, she brings them both along around their lands, Newt sits by this time on their adventure watching in wonder as Aisling teaches his young daughter their family magic. Small things, still so new to the gift, promising to teach more when they come for another visit.
….
Modesty is a people watcher. She always had been. Always will be.
When Newt had first brought her back home with him he’d kept his distance as was desired, leaving meals and sweets and such sitting on chairs and side tables and the floor before leaving the room to embark on something else. He never tried to force them to interact after that initial meeting. Opting to simply be there when she was ready to take whatever their next step would be.
He knew, of course, that he was being watched. He handled dangerous creatures on a daily basis, the man would be dead if he wasn’t constantly aware of his surroundings, the wizard knew the little witch was observing him.
Not a move was made on his part when she slowly crawled into his one morning as he sipped at a steaming mug of coffee and read through the post. He only curled an arm around her when she settled into place. Smiling to himself when she didn’t immediately retreat.
“Newt hurry up!” There was no such reservation now. “You’re too slow!”
“Says the child riding on my back?” The ginger haired man shakes his head with a small smile as they approach a familiar bakery. “I think I’ll have to decline dear Jacob this year for I’ve found something far more sweet than anything ever baked by any baker.” Soft giggles only in his ear this time. “What, nothing to say?” She merely bows into his shoulder. “Am I going fast enough?”
“Yep.” Leaning against his shoulders, the little girl curls her arms down over his chest, little purple mittens curling into the front of his coat. “It’s the first Christmas without Credence, papa.”
He knew where he lay in her heart, sometimes she switched between name and title, the little one could take as much as much time as she needed and continue to do so as long as she desired to.
“I know, my little one.” He squeezes one of those purple mitten covered hands tight. “We’ll have to make this one extra special in his memory.”
“Can we go lay flowers for him?”
Stopping just outside the Bakery Door, where the holiday celebrations were already in full swing, Newt Scamander peers at her over his shoulder. “We most certainly can.”
…..
“It’s hard to imagine.”
Theseus knows the American woman means no offense to his brother’s skills when it comes to people, particularly children, but still he’s a tad taken aback in his stead. His brother had escaped his duties under the guise of needing to check in on his daughter, no one said a thing, considering they knew the girl was safe and sound with the man’s brother.
The head of the Department of Magic Law Enforcement.
He was amused, exasperated, but amused to find them both napping peacefully on the small loveseat in his office. Dear Newts legs crossed at the ankle as they dangled over the arm of the loveseat, but little Modesty, his beloved little one, was curled up comfortably in his arms, fast asleep as her fingers remained curled loosely around one of his suspenders.
“I see them like this quite frequently. Lazy bones is what he is.”
….
The scream is soon followed by a splash, that alone has the Keeper turning with alarm, eyes searching for the little one who’d been playing carefully with Aodha, the semi tamed Kelpie took a liking to his adopted charge.
When there’s no resurface is when panic starts to set in, Newt has it on good authority that his child knows how to swim, he ensured so when she’d befriended the Kelpie she had quickly named Aodha. The massive water demon would never allow his friend to drown, never, the beast was protective of his companion.
Aodha approved of the name he had been given.
But just over a month ago–when the realization hits, perhaps far too late, the Magizoologist is leaving his present station and Bunty behind in favor of getting to the water as quick as one may. Menial items can be replaced, boots would only make him heavier, Aodha erupts from the massive lake enclosure with a fury unknown.
He would never harm his little friend but the other–the new–the one they’d just brought would not be so inclined.
Water explodes all around when the massive beasts start in on each other, normally Newt would be attempting to bring peace, but not now. Now Aodha was the distraction. Diving into the water, the instant chill has no effect as he floats for a moment, eyes searching wildly for any hint–there!
The girl had clearly put up a fight, little hand still outstretched, blood painting the water a hue of red around the wounds she’s gained from sharp teeth. Diving deeper, he reaches out for that hand, first brushing her fingers with his, before snagging her wrist and yanking.
Lungs aching, the amount of time that has passed he has no inkling, it feels like moments to him. Years to his unconscious daughter. A push from below has him ready to strike out, something he’d never considered seeing himself consider in his lifetime, to lash out at a creature defensively, until he’d become the parent to a child who’s brother he’d made a promise to.
Aodha bumps them again, hurrying them to the surface, Newt realizes how much time has passed since they both disappeared into the water when he breaks the surface, the little one’s head lulling to the side, and the hands that are reaching out to him are Theseus’s.
“Newt, thank Merlin!” He doesn’t wish to let go of the child he hold so close, but there’s little he can do in the water, let alone with two Kelpies having a go at each other, so he passes her to Leta who’s more then ready with a blanket to bundle her up in. “When Bunty sent word–” His brother pulls him from the water with just a little ease. Though there’s concern for him, Theseus has just as much for his brother’s daughter, he was taken with the role of Uncle that had been bestowed upon him. “Leta, how is she?”
There’s no response as they watch Lestrange work, finally, after a lifetime and a half, Modesty coughs. Coughs up mouthful after mouthful of water. Tears mix in at some point. Newt is there when she reaches out. Pulling her closer, patting her back as Leta instructs him to, whispering soothing encouragements into her ear.
Bunty returns with another few blankets, handing one off to Madam Lestrange to bundle the little one up in, the others to the older Scamander brother. “How long were we truly in there for you all to come?” Newt takes the moment to examine the eight year old’s pale face, stroking fingers over her wet cheek, tucking the blankets around her closer when she ducks into his chest. “Surely–”
“Newwie,” his older brother has never sounded so pained in as long as he can remember. “When we arrived it had nearly been an hour.”
“From the research I’ve been doing on her family roots,” Leta tucks an edge of the outermost blanket over the shivering child’s head when it appears that she is not coming out from her hiding space within Newt’s embrace. “I believe her magic instinctively took control. It has been for a while. It’s been years, friends we’ve made have been aging, so too are we to a certain degree. Perhaps a defence mechanism.”
That has both brothers turning their attention entirely.
She nods. “Her bloodline is known for many things. Medicine. Healing. Mortality.” The little one sniffles softly. “Just in her name alone, her true name, Naimh means youth. Not ironically. She’s, or well her magic, is keeping those she found family in young with her.”
“Powerful.”
“Powerful indeed.”
….
Wiggling to be put down, gentle hands curl under her arms to set her on her feet, snow crunching underfoot as she hurries forward for the tombstone the Goldstein sisters had made up for Credence at the cemetery down the lane.
“Merry Christmas, big brother.” She rubs a purple mitten over her face when tears sting into her eyes, a large warm hand rubs soothingly down her back as the man at her side kneels beside her, reaching out to brush snow and small debris from the Headstone. “I miss you.” Sniffling, she turns to look up at the man, Newt smiles down at her gently and offers the small bouquet of flowers she’d picked. “But..But I have papa now.” She takes his hand instead, pulling him in, so they can lay the flowers down together. “I think you’d like him, he’s real nice, never yells or hits or anything.” Curling her mittened hand around the palm of the larger one. “I miss you all the time, but…but I’m happy, because I know you’re safe now and papa keeps me safe too. Thanks for helping me meet papa, Credence, I really love him. I know you do too, wherever you are now, I just know.”