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Into the Woods


NEWT'S STORY CONTINUES...


Newt stood at the edge of the property of the burned house in the village across the lake from The Great North Woods. It still smelled of sulfur and burned up possessions all throughout the little town. Like most small towns, everyone was sharing in the suffering of the one.

When Newt had asked for directions to the house, they’d given him a once-over, thinking how strange he looked and acted for an investigator - but he had a briefcase, they thought, and investigators often carried briefcases. Perhaps the Yard could spare no other than this lunatic of a man who never quite looked you in the eyes, and fidgeted unnecessarily with the band on his left ring finger. Perhaps none of the other investigators would agree to go, afraid of Walking Death. Whatever the reason, surely no man would come here, all the way from London, without being charged to investigate the arson and presumed murder of the widow of the clockmaker and his poor little son… So they’d sent him off to where the ruins of the house stood, where the ashes lay on scorched earth.

t was there, at the gate of the property, that Newt stood now, clutching the handle of his suitcase.

The Great North Woods certainly held a good deal of presence. He’d felt it when he’d been there in May to assist in the rescue of Remus Lupin. But now it was even stronger, and he felt sick from it, casting his eyes along the stone walkway that led up to a house that no longer stood.

There was a knock on the briefcase and he glanced to the left and right. The smoldering remains of the house were at the very end of a long street and had once had a mill that ran the water in the lake - the mill lay in wreckage on the edge of the water, surrounded by crushed cat-o-nine tails and reeds. There was no persons in sight, neither down the road or across the lake (no one ever dared to go across the lake) and so he lowered the case to the ground and flipped the switches, pushing open the lid.

Tina was standing at the top of the ladder peering up at him with wide questioning eyes. “Is it safe?” she whispered. Newt nodded, and she climbed up the rest of the way, glancing at the smoldering remains of the house. “Good gracious,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her palm as she gasped.

“Do you feel it, Tina?” he asked. “The presence?”

“Yes, I feel it,” she shivered, cold from it. She looked around, half expecting there to be several ghosts just floating about the yard, staring at her. But there was nothing except burnt grass and fragments of the lives decimated by the fire’s burning.

“Mopsus is - is very much present here. In this town, in this place.” He looked away across the lake, which was so dark that the water seemed black and ominously still. Newt turned to Tina again. “How is Ned?”

“I gave him aconite. He’s very sore.”

Newt nodded. “Did - did you put him in the observation room?”

“Yes. He’s secured.”

Newt nodded again.

Tina’s eyes moved about the scene before them as Newt closed the case. The air was so heavy with Presence that even the Niffler wasn’t trying to escape today. Newt locked the briefcase and held it to his side.

“So where do we start?” Tina asked.

Newt drew his wand from his coat sleeve and glanced around again to be certain they were alone, and he turned back to the ruins. “Accio clock,” he tried. They both waited for a long moment, then he said, “I didn’t - didn’t really expect that one to work… Too easy… a, uh, man can hope, though,” he smirked, his upper lip twitching ever so slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Tina loved that smirk. She could still remember the first time she’d ever seen it, crammed into a doorway in New York back in 1926 when he’d let her go parading about the City with mustard on her upper-lip.

“I s’pose we, uh, we could try… try searching through it, but I don’t reckon that they’re here,” Newt said more seriously.

Tina asked, “Where do you think they are?”

Newt’s eyes travelled over the lake to the line of the trees there.

“I was afraid that would be your answer,” Tina said, “That we’d need to go into the woods.”

Into the woods without delay. But careful not to lose the way. Into the woods, who knows what may be lurking on the journey? The way is clear, the light is good, I have no fear, nor no one should… The woods are just trees, the trees are just wood… no need to be afraid there…” Newt spoke the words - words that made Tina look at him with a funny expression to her face, questioning what it was he was quoting. “Sorry,” Newt murmured, “Something I heard once… time turner… of course you don’t know… not - not really written yet, actually… nevermind.”

Tina’s eyebrows went up. “Mr. Scamander, are you spouting off poetry from the future?”

“Oh mercy no, no…” he paused, “Not poetry, no. Showtunes, perhaps, but not poetry. Never poetry.”

“Mhm…” Tina eyed him.

Newt gave her his best impression of an innocent smile. It wasn’t a very good one for Newt Scamander hadn’t been innocent an entire day in his life - he was always in trouble of some sort. Usually for stealing creatures that didn’t belong to him. Or else for his creatures stealing things that didn’t belong to him.

“You know use of time turners is terribly illegal?” Tina pressed.

Newt murmured something that sounded like just a bit of fun and Dumbledore and, turning quite red, he said, “We - uh - we should be going.”

Tina shook her head and watched as Newt promptly turned away from the wreckage, heading toward the gate of the property again. He never failed to surprise her with random references to insane adventures that he had had over the years. A time turner! She shook her head. The idea of it! Newt Scamander barrelling about in the future! She wondered what the future had thought of her fire-headed creature-loving nomad of a husband...

They walked down the bank of the lake to the very edge and Newt ducked behind a large clump of brush. “We should leave the briefcase somewhere safe,” he said. And he looked at the brush. “Do you think…?”

“Nobody’s going to come down here,” Tina shivered and she nodded.

Newt nodded, too, and he carefully tucked the briefcase between the thick brush and the stone wall that lined the edge of the burned property. He instantly regretted suggesting leaving the case. Newt was never quite sure what to do with his bloody hands when he wasn’t carrying it about and he awkwardly fumbled for Tina’s hand to replace it, lacing their fingers together, his wide knuckles trembling with a bit of separation anxiety. But he didn’t want his creatures being in danger and bringing them into that sinister looking wood would put them all at risk - including Ned Veigler - and a bout of the agonizing discomfort of being away from them would be worth knowing they were safe.

Tina was the one who apparated them across the lake, and they came out the otherside with a crack, right at the edge of the darkness that engulfed the trees. They stood there on the grounds staring away at the darkness.

Tina turned to Newt, “Just so we’re clear, we think that Mopsus is working with Greyback somehow? To steal time from the clockmaker’s wife and son?”

Newt said, “I’m not sure.”

“So basically we’re traipsing into the woods on - on what? A whim?”

“I think… I think they’re in here,” Newt said quietly. “The boy and the mother…” he squinted between the trees carefully. “You know these woods are soaking with werewolves? And tonight the full moon?”

“Yes,” Tina said, “It crossed my mind.”

Newt looked at her. “Bit scared? Even a little?”

Tina nodded. “Of course. “I’m terrified, Newt. But you say that there’s a boy in these woods, who’s see the worst things a boy can see. Who may very well be captured by those very werewolves and may very well end up bitten himself. I can’t stand the idea of it.”

His eyes searched hers.

Tina shivered. “We have to save him, Newt.”

Newt nodded, and he raised his wand, “Lumos,” he muttered.