Prompt Post #2

[fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme]

  ROUND 2

Seeing as we've reached 4,000 comments in Round 1, it's time to make a new one. Same (lack of) rules apply. Gentle reminder to everyone to refrain from posting extremely long prompts, though. While no word limit will be imposed, take note that it is very unlikely for someone to fulfill your prompt if your prompt alone is already several paragraphs long and containing a number of specifications.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
-(01/14/2016) We now have a TRADING POST where you can exchange fills with people. 
-The prompt freeze is over! You may resume posting prompts. The next freeze is scheduled on February 8, 12:00 AM (PST) or if this round reaches 4,000 comments; whichever comes first.
-Due to popular demand, we now have our first couple of rules!
RULE #1: No prompt must exceed 250 words. Any prompt that exceeds that WILL be screened.
RULE #2: Please state RPF in the subject line if your prompt involves real people.
RULE #3: No kinkshaming.


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Comments

Fill: (1/?) It's always the quite ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Graves/Newt, Theseus & Newt, bamf!Newt

I do not have the time for this. (Stomps back to the mountain of WIP pics and adds another one to the pile). Oh well. For reference, this is some in future when Graves has been found and him and Newt are still kind of dancing around each other - I'm not all that great at writing romance, but there are hopefully hints of attraction between them. Hope thats ok with the OP. Hope you enjoy!

****

Newt can think of a great many places that he’d rather currently be. In his suitcase, for one, working on expanding the temperate forest habitat in anticipation of his planned visit to the redwood forests in California later this year. Or actually in California.

Sadly, he’s neither of those places, and is instead sitting on a bench in the observation deck above one of MACUSA’s duelling arenas, watching his older brother Theseus duel against one of the MACUSA aurors.

From what he’d gathered, when Theseus had arrived a few days earlier with a contingent of his colleagues, the Ministry of Magic and MACUSA tended to convene once a year or so for a duelling tournament between the aurors of the two departments, as a sort of knowledge and technique exchange. Some of the fighting was a demonstration of techniques, but quite a lot of it was simply straight out duelling. With a competition at the end, of course.

It just happened that Newt was back in New York at the same time, visiting his friends at MACUSA (and sneaking off to visit Jacob in his new bakery) when Theseus had gotten wind of his presence, tracked him down and physically hauled him into the MACUSA building. Newt had been sorely tempted to hex his older brother there and then, but Tina, Edward and Micheal had looked so delighted that he was there to support them that he hadn’t the heart to sneak off again.

Theseus, the asshole, just looked smug.

Hence his presence on the observation deck. Newt is keeping half an eye on the duel below, and the other half on his sketchbook, where he’s been capturing some of his friends in motion. Tina, looking cheerfully vicious, his brother victorious, Percival looking calm and collected. Quite a lot of Percival, now that he has a chance to think about it. (Newt is very firmly ignoring the implications of his current… interest in the newly reinstated Director of Magical Security. He’s also never letting Theseus see this sketchbook. Ever.)

His musings are interrupted by Tina, who flops down on the bench next to him with a sigh. She’s slightly out of breath, having just won her most recent duel.

Newt smiles at her. ‘Congratulations.’ he begins.

Tina grins back, a pleased flush on her cheeks. ‘Ta. It was a close call, though’. She peers through the transparent floor of the observation deck. ‘How’s your brother doing?’

Newt gestures at Theseus’ duel. ‘Well enough, I think. I’m not sure anyone has really pushed him yet.’

Even as the two of them watch, Theseus blasts a hole in his opponent’s hastily conjured shield charm and follows it up with a disarming and binding spell combination, ending the match. Cheers erupt from the spectators, along with a few groans of disappointment from a few. Theseus glances up, waves and then cancels the spells on his opponent. The two of them disappear out of the side door, and a few minutes later he reappears on the observation deck himself. Theseus sits down on Newt’s other side and slings an arm over his shoulders.

‘What do you think, oh brother mine?’ Theseus says.

Newt rolls his eyes, but doesn’t even bother to try to shake Theseus’ arm off - his older brother will take it as a challenge and Newt would rather not end up in an unscheduled fight today. (In hindsight, it wouldn’t have made much difference.)

‘You’re still too static. I don’t think I’ve seen you move more than a few steps from your starting point.’

Theseus pouts. ‘How mean. No congratulations for not getting disarmed yet? I thought brothers were supposed to encourage each other.’

Newt huffs. ‘Your head is big enough as it is. You don’t need me to encourage it.’

Theseus wails in disbelief, turning to Graves, who’s just approaching them. ‘Percy - can you believe it - Newt is picking on me!’

Newt is quite certain that Theseus calls Graves ‘Percy’ just for the aborted double take reactions of the MACUSA aurors.

Graves raises a single eyebrow. ‘I’m certain you deserved it.’

Theseus clutches a hand to his chest. ‘Betrayed. And I thought you were my friend!’

Next to Newt, Tina disguises her laughter as coughing.

Theseus turns back to Newt. ‘Besides, your criticism was entirely unfounded. I haven’t moved yet because no one has made me move.’

Now its Newt’s turn to raise an eyebrow at his brother. ‘You move more when you fight against me.’

Theseus waves his free hand in the air. ‘That’s because you’re a sneaky bugger who’d probably kick me in the head otherwise.’

‘Now who’s picking on who? I wouldn’t kick you in the head.’ Newt pauses, then amends that to, ‘In the ribs, maybe.’

Graves and Tina both look surprised, as do some of the surrounding witches and wizards who are doing a very poor job of pretending not to listen in. Theseus, of course, notices.

‘Newt’s very good in a fight.’ he says, his voice just a tad louder than previously, blithely ignoring Newt’s elbow in his side.

‘Oh?’ a voice comes from behind them. ‘Perhaps you’d care to back that claim up?’

Re: Fill: (1/?) It's always the quite ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm so giddy right now that this is being written. Wonderful first chapter!!! Love the interaction between Newt and Theseus and their ribbing each other good naturedly.

As OP I'm really happy with this!

Re: Fill: (1/?) It's always the quite ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Filler here - I'm so glad you liked it! The next part will be up soon, but after that I'm not sure as I've got quite a busy week coming up.

Re: Fill: (1/?) It's always the quite ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Loving the brothers' relationship here and can't wait to see the next bit - I like the tournament you show as well :) Great work!

Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Urgh, here have a part two. As is usual with my writing, the dratted thing just keeps expanding. Not sure when the next bit will be up, as I've got quite a busy week, but I'll try not to have too long a delay.

In unrelated news, I only just spotted the typo in the title. Oops.

****

Newt, Tina and Theseus all twist around to observe the newcomer behind them. Short, well dressed, with a glint in his eyes that doesn’t bode well.

‘Lovis.’ Graves greets him.

‘Lovis?’ Theseus repeats, thoughtful. ‘Ah - didn’t I beat you in this competition last year?’

Newt winces as Lovis’ face goes red. He himself may accidentally offend people on a regular basis - but his older brother has always been very good at doing it on purpose.

‘That was an exception.’ Lovis bites out. ‘But since you’re always saying how good you are at judging your opponent’s strength, I’ll duel your brother.’

Tina and Graves make identical noises of protest, much to Newt’s appreciation, but Theseus doesn’t even blink.

‘Sure.’ His git of an older brother replies. ‘Start in 15 minutes? I’m fairly sure there’s a free slot then.’

Lovis focuses on Newt, who fixes his gaze somewhere near the man’s chin. ‘Shall we say that anything goes? Baring Unforgivables, of course. We’ll see just how the younger Scamander matches up to the older.’

Newt really doesn’t like tone that the other man used with his brother, and it’s that, more than anything, that gets him to agree.

‘Fine.’ he says.

Lovis looks pleased, turns on his heel and makes his way over to the stairs which descend from the observation platform.

Newt suddenly realises that there are a number of people staring at him and he attempts to shrink back into his coat a little bit. He forgets, sometimes, just how easily his brother can attract the attention of a crowd.

A gentle touch on his shoulder makes him look up and - oh - Graves looks rather worried, doesn’t he?

‘You don’t have to fight him.’ Graves says, shooting a glare at Theseus. ‘No matter what your sibling may tell you. If its something you’re not comfortable with-’

Newt shakes his head and stands. ‘If not Lovis, then I’ve no doubt that Theseus would collar me into duelling him at some point. This is probably the better end of the deal.’

Theseus makes an offended noise that is muffled when Newt drops his coat on his brother’s head.

‘Hold on to that, if you please. I’m rather fond of it, and I’d rather it didn’t get damaged.’

Newt extracts Pickett from his waistcoat pocket, not without a little difficulty, and places him on Tina’s shoulder.

He hesitates, then turns to Graves. ‘Would you hold out your hand a moment?’ he asks.

Graves looks surprised, but complies and Newt deposits the Swooping Evil Cocoon on his palm.

‘I don’t trust my brother not to throw this at someone -‘

‘Hey-‘

’-so if you could keep him safe, I’d appreciate it.’

Newt suddenly realises that his hand is still hovering just above Graves’ and he snatches it back, chancing a glance upwards to the man’s face. Newt catches a glimpse of a fond amusement before Graves’ face smooths out again.

’Not going to keep this one for the duel?’ Graves asks. ‘Lovis did say that anything goes.’

Newt lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. ‘There’s only one of him. I might if I was against multiple people.’ He glances over his shoulder at his brother. ‘That is not an invitation.’

Theseus tries to look innocent. It doesn’t really work. ‘Never crossed my mind. Still, you’d best be off.’ His older brother’s smile turns sharp for a moment. ‘The anti-apparition wards are down in the arenas, so you’ll be fine. Break a leg!’ he pauses. ‘Or a few ribs, I’m not particularly fussy…’

Newt’s answering smile mirrors his siblings when he hears the old joke - the punchline being that its usually Newt doing the breaking, rather than ending up injured himself. He waves in acknowledgement and turns for the stairs, leaving his friends behind him.

Re: Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Omg, I love this so much! The brotherly banter is awesome. Break a leg indeed. You just know, there is a story to this. I love that Newt shed is coat because without it he looks delicious...and deceptively slender. I grinned when he said he'd only use the Swooping Evil if there was more than one opponent. And immediately backtracked in mind because Theseus would be evil and do this to him.

No worries about when you get time for the next chapter. I'm very Happyend that the story is written at all. Thank you!

Re: Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Stories? STORIES? There are eyewitness accounts (not many who will admit to it, mind) of the chaos Newt has left in his wake.

In his defence, large parts of it were accidental. Except the times he's broken Theseus because his brother is usually the one who started it and gives as good as he gets.

I may drop more hints later :)

Re: Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

This was fantastic - and I love how Newt is taking care of all of his creatures (and his coat). I'm very excited about the duel

Re: Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you for commenting! I'm looking forward to the duel too - if the dratted thing would stop expanding on me :)

Re: Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Headcanon that Newt is actually the more dangerous of the Scamander brothers. Still waters run deep after all. I mean...he does have a f***ing Nundu in is case and isn't fazed by damn near anything. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about" ring a bell?

And Theseus knows. And he's so goddamn gleeful about what's to happen. It's a joy to watch. I almost want to see Newt go against multiple opponents, simply for the shock value...or never even bothering to pull his wand.

Anyway, I've said it before, I say it again. Great story!

Re: Fill: (2/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Filler here. I definitely agree that Newt is not to be underestimated. At your own peril.

And Theseus is having the time of his life because - look - its his baby brother - isn't he so adorably vicious. Graves swears that the family resemblance (looks aside) has never been so noticeable as when Theseus is cooing about Newt - it bares a striking resemblance to Newt cooing over one of his creatures. The parallel between 'cute but could probably kill you' does not escape his notice either.

In other, entirely unrelated things: Theseus may be an auror, sworn to uphold the law and generally manages to navigate the political nightmare that is the MoM with alarming ease, but the entire Auror department is aware that he has a blind spot a mile wide and deep when it comes to Newt and heaven help anyone who goes after Newt, because Theseus will show them no mercy. Assuming Newt hasn't already taken care of it.

Fill: (3/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Bugger it, this thing will not leave me alone. Ok, I was a little tempted to leave it as one duel, as you’ll see further down, but the way I ended it would not quite have filled the prompt. Plus I wanted to write Newt fighting a bit more.

And for the lovely person who commented about head cannons for actors as Theseus - Domhnall Gleason would definitely work.

****

Graves is not worried. Definitely not. Newt has clearly managed to survive his ridiculous life thus far, and storming down to the arena and hauling the younger wizard out of the firing line of a fully trained auror with a grudge is not an appropriate course of action for the situation. (If he keeps telling himself that, he might actually start believing it.) He settles instead for turning a blistering glare on Theseus.

Theseus looks unconcerned at the ill will directed in his direction. ‘Don’t worry about Newt, Percy. He’ll be fine.’

Given that empirical evidence indicates that neither of the Scamander brothers have the correct definition of the word ‘fine’ when it applies to themselves, Graves thinks he can be forgiven for doubting Theseus’ words.

He opens his mouth to say as much, but at that point, a handful of the British aurors wander over to where the three of them are peering down at the arena where Lovis is already waiting.

Summers, an fairly young wizard, greets them with an overenthusiastic wave and a smile, whilst the dark haired witch - Miller? was it? - next to him offers a more reserved nod. Graves had seen her duel earlier, and had been impressed by the efficiency of her wandwork.

Following the direction of their gazes, the newcomers watch as Newt emerges into the ring below. Summers whistles. ‘You got Scamander to duel? Er. The other one, I mean? How on earth did you manage that?’

Theseus shrugs. ‘Accepted for him.’

Miller sighs. ‘Poor sod. Remember that time with the prat from Belgium?’

Summers snickers. ‘Hardly likely to forget.’

Their remarks are not helping Graves feel any less concerned about the situation. The sentiment seems to shared by the spectators, who don’t seem to rate Newt’s chances of making it out unscathed particularly high. Most of the comments do seem to be out of concern, although Graves makes a note of a few faces which seems pleased that Newt might be about to take a few hits.

… For entirely non personal reasons. Obviously. Tina is doing the same thing, judging by her expression, so clearly this is simply a matter of keeping and eye out for a friend.

Any further thoughts are put on hold as the master of proceedings announces the match line up:

‘Newt Scamander, British, MACUSA consultant, against David Lovis, MASUCA Auror’, and all eyes focus downwards on the ring. Newt has his wand clasped between his teeth and is rolling up his shirt sleeves, fixing them just above his elbows.

Even as Graves watches, Newt takes a deep breath and settles, feet a shoulder width’s apart, head up and back straight. Graves notes, with some surprise, that Newt looks almost … relaxed. Certainly he doesn’t appear to be letting any tension stiffen his muscles.

‘Start!’

Lovis immediately fires three fast travelling spells towards his opponent - but Newt disappears with a faint pop, reappears 5 feet behind Lovis and hits him with a disarming spell before the man has a chance to react. An almost lazy ‘Petrificus Totalus’ immobilises Lovis and Newt catches the wand that arcs towards him with an enviable ease.

There is a moment of stunned silence.

‘Told you he was a sneaky bugger.’ Theseus says smugly, as mutterings break out amongst the spectators. He leans forwards and calls, ‘Go best out of three, Newt!’

Graves can almost feel the exasperation rolling off of the younger Scamander as he cancels the spells on Lovis. Lovis sits up and snatches his wand back off Newt, agreeing to a second match with a short, jerky nod of his head. Theseus’ expression as his brother and Lovis return to their starting positions can only be described as gleeful.

‘I doubt Newt try the same trick twice.’ Theseus says to Graves. ‘And if your auror doesn’t underestimate him quite as much, this next match should be fun.’

… Maybe Graves should get the Scamander brothers a pair of dictionaries for their next birthdays. Clearly they seem to have misremembered the meaning of several commonly used words in the English language. He files the thought away for later and returns his attention to the arena below.

Newt and Lovis are ready, and with a sharp command from the master of proceedings, the second duel begins.

Re: Fill: (3/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

OP here. Seriously I worship the ground you walk on. :) I love this.

Btw...the Domhnall Gleeson suggestion was from me.

You really make me wish for Newt taking on his brother. ;) That'd be a sight to remember.

The british aurors commenting on Newt was another headcanon of mine. How did you know that?

Re: Fill: (3/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

… For entirely non personal reasons. Obviously.

Obviously, Percival, obviously. Awwww.

I like that he obviously misinterpreted the "poor sod" comment earlier too. Great update!

Re: Fill: (3/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Graves here is adorable - of course its not for personal reasons... and Newt. Agh! This is so good and I'm really enjoying the duels and the whole concept here. At least Graves won't worry so much about Newt in future

Re: Fill: (4/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

A little shorter this time but I am determined to keep going and finish this thing! And hey, we get to see Newt duel!

****

Newt fires off a spell and promptly disparates from his starting position. Lovis calls up a shield spell and the stunning curse rebounds off of it, but the conjured brick Newt sends flying Lovis’ way from his new position sails right through, forcing Lovis to duck. Newt blocks a returning curse, dematerialises out of the way of a second and sends a trip jinx towards the auror from behind him. Lovis barely avoids it, and Newt has already gone by the time the next spell is thrown in his direction.

And so the duel goes - Newt dodges the spells sent his way with alarming ease and responds with charms and jinxes aimed to distract and annoy - one to coat the floor beneath Lovis’ feet in ice, another to try to knock his legs out from under him. Newt can see the irritation building on Lovis’ face as the jinxes and curses aimed at him are either blocked or fail to find their target in the first place and he keeps watching for an opening to end the match.

Before the opportunity arises, Lovis temper snaps. ‘Will you STAND STILL so I can hit you!’ he roars. Newt blinks. Why on earth would he do such an idiotic thing?

Above them, Newt can hear Theseus lose his composure entirely and start laughing. Lovis can clearly hear it too, because his face turns even redder than previously, which Newt honestly hadn’t thought was possible. Newt wonders if he ought to suggest that the man get his heart checked - he looks awfully stressed.

‘Fine. You enjoy dodging so much - I’ll make sure you’ve got nowhere to dodge to!’

Lovis drops his shield charm and sends a jet of white hot flame spurting out of the end of his wand towards Newt. Newt hastily relocates himself to the other side of the ring, but Lovis simply turns and the flames turn with him, setting three quarters of the arena on fire in one sweeping motion. Newt can’t see Lovis to try to hit him with a spell - the flames are cutting off any direct line of sight. Lovis shouts something that Newt doesn’t quite catch over the crackle of the fire and the flames surge towards Newt, rapidly consuming the safe ground.

‘Bugger.’ Newt says.

He’d somewhat hoped he wasn’t going to have to resort to this. He’s not entirely sure where in the arena Lovis was last standing, but Newt is fairly confident that the man isn’t daft enough to set the ground immediately around him alight. Luckily for him, Newt is very good at apparating blind.

Newt tucks his wand back into its holster, and takes half a step forwards, pushing off his right leg. He disapparates mid step and reappears just to the side of Lovis, driving a roundhouse kick directly into the man’s chest. Lovis bends forwards, wheezing, but before he can bring his wand up, Newt apparates again, rematerialising in the air above his opponent. Newt slams both of the heels of his boots into the auror’s back, who pitches face first into the wooden floor. Newt turns his downwards momentum into forwards roll and comes to his feet in a smooth motion, then summons Lovis’ wand to his hand for the second time that day. Around them, the magical fire sputters out.

He waits to see if Lovis attempts to get up, but the man appears content to lie face down on the floor of the arena.

‘Yield?’ Newt asks, his voice echoing slightly due to the amplifying charms spelled into the ring.

It takes Lovis a few attempts to form the words, but eventually he manages to croak out ‘Yield.’

Re: Fill: (3/?) It's always the quiet ones.

[(Anonymous)]

Ahhh, this is so wonderful. I quite like your Theseus and Newt's ease with him is lovely. My favorite thing so far is Newt handing off Pickett and the Swooping Evil.

Wait, no, my favorite thing is Graves being all protective and worried and in denial... I love the little detail of him measuring his reactions against Tina's. And then there's the utter hotness of Newt rolling up his sleeves and getting down to business. Looking forward to the next duel!

Backstory no 1: That time with the wards and the collapsing building

[(Anonymous)]

Ok, this is not yet anything really to do with dragons or Newt vs Theseus, but I am working on them, I promise! I hope you enjoy this snippet for now!

****

A few months into Newt’s job working with dragons as part of the Ministry of Magic’s war strategy, his older brother pays him a visit. It’s the beginning of a cool spring morning, and Theseus announces his presence by interrupting Newt halfway through his first cup of tea and dragging him out of his small room in the dragon handler’s camp without so much as a by-your-leave.

Newt’s mind is foggy enough thanks to a lack of both sleep and a lack of caffeine that he doesn’t start protesting until his brother has already managed to get him most of the way out of the camp, at which point it’s far too late. When pressed for answers, it turns out that Theseus has a day of leave from his own position in the Ministry of Magic war department, and has decided that an acceptable way to spend his time off is to spend it investigating a building in a town somewhere in Northern France that somehow managed to remain standing despite a bombardment by both muggle artillery and spellwork.

Newt finally digs his heels into the earth just outside the wards of the camp and manages to pull his brother to a halt. ‘That’s wonderful, Theseus,’ he says, once his brother has finished his somewhat longwinded explanation, ‘But what does that have to do with me?’

Theseus throws a disarming smile Newt’s way, which Newt recognises as the one that he used to use on the professors at Hogwarts whilst he was talking his way out of trouble. Newt remains unaffected and raises an eyebrow at his brother, waiting.

Theseus deflates slightly. ‘I thought it would be fun. And I know I can count on you to watch my back whilst I’m there.’

Dammit. Newt thinks. It’s awfully hard to refuse Theseus when he goes and says something like that.

‘You’ll go with or without me, won’t you?’ he asks, wryly. The siblings are similar in that regard - once decided on a course of action, trying to change their minds is rather like trying to move a mountain. ‘I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then.’

Theseus whoops in delight. ‘Right, grab my arm, I’ll side along you.’

Newt shakes his head, checks that his wand is stowed within easy reach and grips his brother’s elbow. The world lurches as Theseus disapparates, and they reappear a few on the outskirts of a small village that has been mostly reduced to rubble.

The building that Theseus is interested in is the only which remains standing in the abandoned town. It barely seems scratched, despite the destruction to the building surrounding it. Newt has to admit it is suspicious. The two of them stop just outside the property fence.

Theseus glances around briefly to check for any observers before drawing his wand, although he needn’t have bothered - the entire town is completely deserted.

‘Keep an eye out,’ he asks Newt as begins casting detection charms at the building.

Newt huffs but complies. A few minutes later Theseus stops.

‘Well?’ Newt asks. He’d quite like to finish up and get back to his cup of tea.

‘Well.’ Theseus says. ’There are a few wards up, but they’re old. Years old at least. And they’re the alarm sort, designed to let someone at the main house know if the gate opens. Probably a wizarding family who decided to ward their home.’

‘Great.’ Newt replies. ‘Can we go, then? I hardly had breakfast.’

Theseus turns back to him. ‘After we’ve come all this way? I’m at least going to have a look inside.’

And before Newt can stop him, he pushes open the gate and starts up the path. Newt stares after him for a moment in exasperation before swearing and hurrying after him.

‘Did you even take the wards down?’ he asks when he’s caught up, just as his brother is unlocking the front door.

‘I told you, they were alarm wards. Nothing to worry about.’

Theseus steps across the threshold and Newt follows, remarking, ‘If this goes wrong, I’m not going to let you forget it.’

****

The inside of the house is coated with a thick layer of dust, and further investigation reveals a small sitting room and a downstairs kitchen, complete with a couple plates with the rotten remains of an abandoned meal on them. Theseus meanders around the table at the centre of the room, Newt pausing near the stove to poke at one of the dials on the front.

‘Whomever lived here likely have left in a hurry.’ he remarks, rummaging around in a few of the kitchen cupboards.

Suddenly, a high pitched, continuous whistle goes off. Newt flinches and jams his hands over his ears.

‘What on earth -‘

Theseus draws his wand in alarm and casts a silencing spell that has absolutely no effect. Around the walls of the kitchen, a pale yellow glow illuminates a series of runes carved into the wood work and the entire house abruptly starts shaking.

‘I thought you said that there were warning spells only!’ Newt yells above the sound of the alarm.

‘I must have missed one!’ his brother yells back, lunging for Newt and attempting to apparate them out of the house, only to feel like he tried to walk through a brick wall.

‘Shit.’ Thesues says, his eyes going wide with alarm. 'I think a set of anti apparation wards must have triggered.’

The entire building is tearing itself apart at this point, and large chunks of masonry are falling down from the ceiling. One piece falls directly down above Theseus, and Newt doesn’t quite manage to get a warning out before the chunk of brickwork clips his brother on the head. Theseus staggers into him and Newt is forced to wrap both of his arms around his brother’s torso to stop the two of them falling over.

Newt snarls in frustration.The anti-apparation wards are still functional, but at this point, Newt simply doesn’t care. He grits his teeth, hangs onto his brother and shoves his will and magic at the wards, ignoring the destination and instead focusing on the pressing need to get the hell out of the house. There’s a feeling not unlike a rubber band snapping as something in the wards gives and suddenly Newt and Theseus are standing in a field.

Newt’s legs abruptly turn to jelly and he wobbles. His brother attempts to keep them upright but between them their balance goes entirely and they pitch sideways onto the ground.

‘I told you.’ Newt said.

Theseus groans. ‘I know, I know. Next time I’ll pay more attention.’

Sitting up, Theseus looks around. ‘Any idea where we are?’

The field they’re in doesn’t give them any useful hints - it looks like just about every other pasture field.

‘No idea.’ Newt replies, looking around as well. ‘I wasn’t really aiming for anywhere in particular, just so long as it wasn’t in that house.’

Theseus shakes his head, admiration painted across his face. ‘Anyone else, and they’d probably have splinched themselves. Nice job.’

Newt casts a healing spell on the wound on his brother’s head and between the two of them they manage to stand upright. Newt’s legs are still a little shaky from the strain of the apparition but they manage to make it up the slight hill to the edge of the field. They climb over the gate and then come to an abrupt halt at the view down the other side of the hill.

‘Newt.’ Theseus begins incredulously. ‘Is that Mrs Thornhill’s cottage?’

Newt is equally surprised. ‘I… think so? It certainly looks like it.’

‘Mrs Thornhill’s cottage. In Dorset.’

‘Um.’

‘Dorset, Newt. Dorset, South England.’

‘Yes thank you, I know where Dorset is.’

‘We were in FRANCE, Newt!’

‘Apparently,’ Newt says dryly. ‘Not anymore.’

Theseus opens his mouth, closes it again and then rubs a hand over his face.

‘Did you even know you could apparate that far?’

Newt doesn’t reply, mostly because a wave of dizziness hits him hard enough to make him tilt sideways, and Thesues is forced to catch him before Newt faceplants into the muddy field.

‘Oi, Newt. Newt!’

‘Tired.’ he mutters into the front of his brother’s coat. ‘Give me a minute and then I’ll see about getting us back.’

Newt feels Theseus’ snort of disbelief more than he hears it.

‘Like hell.’ Theseus replies, shifting his grip on Newt, picking him up completely and starting to move down the hill. ‘You are going to take as long as you need to recover and then you can see about getting us back. A few hours won’t make any difference.’

Newt makes a vague noise of protest, but he’s fairly comfortable in his brother’s arms and his eyes keep slipping closed of their own accord.

'350 miles through anti-apparation wards, with a passenger, little brother. You’ve earned a rest.’

****

Sure enough, Newt wakes up several hours later on the sofa in Mrs Thornhill’s cottage to the sound of his brother chatting to the old widow. After a quick meal, the siblings make their way to the edge of the property line. Newt wordlessly offers his elbow to Theseus, who grasps it firmly. Newt focuses on the edge of the dragon handlers' camp that they’d left earlier that morning and takes a step forwards. They reappear directly in front of the main gates and rather badly startle the sentry on duty.

Theseus lets go of his brother’s arm and sighs, before squaring his shoulders, and Newt can see the moment when ‘Theseus, older brother’ is put aside for 'Theseus Scamander, MoM auror.'

Theseus nods once, short and sharp, then disapparates back to his own headquarters. Newt stares at the empty space a moment longer before heading around the outside of the camp. He’s got some dragons to look after.

Re: Backstory no 1: That time with the wards and the collapsing building

[(Anonymous)]

OP. You do know that you are probably my favorite person at the moment? What a treat! I loved it.

I'm starting to see a trend though:

'Theseus! No!'
'Theseus, yes!'
'Theseus! Nooo!'
'Theseus, yeesss!'

Theseus seems to be the actually bigger troublemaker in the family. I love it!!!

Side-along apparition through wards over a pretty long distance. Impressive!!! I wonder what Percival would think about that. And I really liked that you kept it realistic in the way that such a feat completely drains Newt's energy reserves.

Re: Backstory no 1: That time with the wards and the collapsing building

[(Anonymous)]

This was spectacular - instantly clear with which series it was, and I'm really glad you continued with this universe. Poor sleepy Newt - I love that he managed to go somewhere safe.

Re: Backstory no 1: That time with the wards and the collapsing building

[(Anonymous)]

Loved it! Theseus is such a silly goose sometimes.

So happy you're doing these outtakes. I know none of us will complain if you write 100 :P

Fill: on ao3

[(Anonymous)]

Oops forgot to put up the ao3 link:

http://archiveofourown.org/series/640142

No such thing as a fair fight (1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

And here is the Theseus vs Newt continuation. Sorry it took so long!

*****

Percival Graves stares down at the arena below him, where the two Scamander brothers appear to be doing their level best to take each other’s heads off. He’s known Theseus Scamander for years, exchanging letters frequently (and hadn’t that been an awful thing to discover, that Grindelwald had carried on his correspondence with Theseus during his imprisonment) and had witnessed the other man’s competence as Auror during the war. Theseus had mentioned Newt occasionally, but Percival had never actually met his best friend’s sibling until he’d been rescued.

Newt had … not quite been what Graves had expected - quiet, content to blend into the background, never all that comfortable with meeting anyone’s eyes.

He’s finding that image a little hard to reconcile with the man who just so resoundingly defeated Lovis, and is currently pushing Theseus Scamander harder than than anyone who’s duelled him previously in the tournament. Graves usually prides himself on his ability to adapt to new situations and appear calm and collected (even if he’s … somewhat less calm in reality), but right now he feels rather like someone hit him with a confundus charm that has yet to wear off.

The heavy weight of the younger Scamander’s coat in his arms helps reassure him that the past half hour has not been the result of some sort of hallucination. Graves suddenly notices a slight shifting in one of the pockets of the blue wooden coat. He eyes it warily - Merlin only knows what might find its way into the pockets of a magizooligist, particularly when that person is Newt. To his relief, the creature that emerges is the bowtruckle Newt had just collected from Tina. The creature must have crawled back into the coat pocket just before Theseus had apparated his brother away.

‘I apologise for the disturbance.’ Graves begins, feeling a little awkward addressing the bowtruckle, but also recalling the numerous times that Newt has talked to them as a sentiment being. Graves wishes that he could remember the name Newt had called them. The creature regards him imperiously from his perch on the top of Newt’s coat then appears to come to some decision. The bowtruckle climbs from Newt’s coat onto Grave’s sleeve and then up to his shoulder. Graves eyes the small green figure warily, but they appear content to sit on his shoulder and survey the proceedings from there.

Graves turns back to the duel below, watching as Newt dives out of the way of one of his brother’s attacks, casts a spell that sounds rather like a firecracker going off. It distracts Theseus enough that he’s almost caught by Newt’s follow up stunning charm.

Theseus employs a fast chain of apparation to manoeuvre his way to the centre of the ring and casts a wide ranged low-level demolition spell.

Summers, who’s been commentating on and off throughout the duel, starts speaking again.

‘It would appear that Theseus has had enough of limiting damage to his surrounding, as he’s just torn up a rather large chunk of the floor and banished it towards Newt. In a space like this, it’s a simple enough move for Newt to apparate out of the way - but Theseus has predicted that move and has successfully hit him with a disarming charm. Not entirely sure where Newt’s wand has fallen from up here, and it looks like Newt isn’t sure either - so from now on Newt will be limited to his hand to hand combat skills to counter his brother’s attacks.’

Next to him, Goldstien has been joined by fellow auror Edwards, both of whom are surveying the growing amount of damage inflicted to the arena below expressions which are rather too close to admiration for Graves’ piece of mind.

‘You know,’ Tina remarks thoughtfully, ‘I think I’m starting to understand why Newt is so proficient at repairing property damage.’

Miller, who has thus far refrained from commenting on the duel between her boss and his brother, tilts her head in Tina’s direction and replies, ‘One of the stipulations the Auror department insisted on when allowing the two of them to fight in the Ministry building was that the two of them had to be capable to repair any damage inflicted on their surroundings. I think that the worst damage they ever caused was when two of their spells collided and reacted badly. They somehow managed to melt a hole through the floor into the store room below the duelling ring and we never did get a straight answer as to what the two spells where which caused that effect.’

Graves makes a very firm mental note to never leave the Scamander brothers alone in a room together for the rest of their visit to New York. Tina glances sideways at him, and something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, as the corner of her mouth curves into an amused smile.

‘You should ask him to dinner.’ Goldstein says, entirely without warning, and Graves turns his head towards her so quickly that he almost gives himself whiplash.

‘What?’ Graves hisses, and most certainly does not surreptitiously check to see who might be listening to their conversation.

‘Newt. When you return his coat to him, ask him out to dinner.’

The glare Graves sends Tina’s way might have once had her fleeing for the door, but the whole mess with the Obscurios, Newt’s case and Grindelwald has done wonders for her self confidence.

Stiffly, Graves replies, ’I don’t see why returning a coat should necessitate an invitation to dinner.’

Tina has the audacity to roll her eyes at him. ’Queenie says if you wanted to keep your attraction for Newt a secret, you might not want broadcast your fondness for him every time he walks into the same room.’

… Graves is going to send both of the Goldstien sisters on the most boring compulsory administration course he can possibly find, never mind the fact that Queenie isn’t technically part of the Auror department.

‘Besides,’ Tina adds, ‘if you don’t make a move, it wouldn’t surprise me if Theseus starts considering the merits of staging an intervention.’

’Fine, Goldstien. I’ll ask him to dinner.’

Re: No such thing as a fair fight (1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

So happy to see you continue with this. Graves conversation with Pickett was adorable and I love the other aurors. And oh dear those two do cause chaos. Yay date! And graves trying to plot revenge is hilarious

No such thing as a fair fight (2/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Very glad to present this chapter to everyone - writing action scenes takes me quite a while, but people seem to be enjoying them so I wanted to give them the time that they deserved!

INJURY WARNING: contains mild spoilers, but for those who aren't comfortable with certain types of blunt force trauma, please read and apply your own discretion. Essentially, during the duel one of the Scamander brothers gets hit in the throat, the other is hit very hard on the head with a brick.

****

The disarming spell which successfully relieves Newt of his wand hits him with enough force to knock him backwards off of his feet - Theseus has a habit of overpowering his spells and the result is akin to being kicked in the chest. Newt turns him momentum into an an awkward roll back onto his feet and promptly apparates out of the way of a stunner, taking temporary refuge behind a piece of rubble. The shelter will only last as long as it takes for Theseus to apparate around the obstacle himself, or cast a wide-range spell.

Newt is deeply regretting that he hadn’t had the chance to collect the Swooping Evil cocoon from Graves earlier. It would be exceedingly useful right about now.

As he expects, the crack of an apparation from behind him heralds the arrival of his brother with a clear line of sight towards him. The gleeful expression on his brother’s face has Newt diving in the opposite direction, barely avoiding the object Theseus conjured to drop on him.

For an instant, the only thing that can be heard is the tortured shriek as a grand piano smashes where Newt was standing scant seconds earlier. The noise is impressive enough that Theseus temporarily halts his spell casting to look at the wreck of what had previously been a functioning musical instrument.

Newt stares in disbelief because honestly Theseus -

‘Did you just try to drop a piano on me?’

Theseus actually looks somewhat perturbed. ‘Not on purpose.’ He glances down at the wand in hand. ‘I’m not sure what went wrong there.’

‘Theseus, conjuring a grand piano is a fairly significant thing to go wrong.’

‘Well, I meant to conjure a wire-mesh enforced box, and I suppose a piano does have all the same components…’

Newt doesn’t buy it, but he’s got other things to worry about at present, as Theseus takes that moment to restart the duel.

His sibling violently flings his wand arm out in the general motion required for a blasting hex and Newt takes full advantage of the oversized movement. Newt apparates to the outside of Theseus arm and launches a kick at the extended limb. The impact shocks the muscles in Theseus’ arm; his grip loosens and his wand flies out of hand. It skitters away and gets lost somewhere amongst the carcass of the grand piano and the rubble torn up out of the floor during the duel. Newt moves back out of immediate striking range.

Theseus grips his injured arm just below the elbow, flexing the fingers carefully, his body angled to keep the limb slightly away from Newt. Seeming to decide that the injury is minor, Theseus relaxes his grip on his limb and eyes Newt warily.

Newt waits. He knows that his brother, closing the distance between them in a short burst of apparation and swinging a fist towards Newt’s stomach. Newt blocks and counters, which misses its target as Theseus jerks his head sideways. Newt follows his first strike with second that makes contact just below Theseus’ ribcage - but Theseus had already begun to move backwards and the impact from the strike is less than Newt would like. Newt ducks the returning hook punch and aims a low kick at Theseus’ leg, who yelps as Newt’s boot connects with the outside of his left knee.

Theseus disapparates out of range, reappearing half hidden behind a pile of broken floorboards and bricks. Newt follows his apparation, sliding low and attempting to swipe his brother’s legs out from underneath him. Theseus jumps over Newt, who rolls back upright and whirls around to disapparate out of the way of a kick aimed at his ribs.

Newt reappears behind his brother and catches Theseus around his waist, apparates both of them slightly into the air and twists Theseus towards the ground. Newt can’t see his brother’s face, but he’s not imagining the panicked spike of Theseus’ magic as he hastily cast wandless cushioning charm. It's likely the only thing that stops Theseus from breaking part of his spine when they impact the floor.

Newt attempts to pin his brother down, but in addition to being older than him, Theseus also has the advantage of bulk. Theseus gets a knee between them and pushes Newt off. Newt rolls away, takes a glancing blow to his ribs before finding his feet. He just about brings his hands up into a guard position to stop a series of mid level punches as his brother falls back on his boxing training. The impacts send him reeling. For a split second his guard slips. His brother takes full advantage, driving a punch into Newt’s throat.

Newt staggers backwards, tries to take a breath in - fails and chokes. He makes a short apparation jump backwards to try to keep out of Theseus’ immediate attack range. Spots dance in front of his eyes when he lands and he half falls into an inconveniently positioned pile of rubble. Newt gasps, succeeds in drawing in a small amount of air. There’s a faint flicker of movement at the corner of his sightline and Newt moves on instinct.

Newt lunges upwards with a looping left hand strike towards his brother’s head. Theseus moves his head backwards - but the first move is a feint, and Theseus’ head isn’t far enough away to avoid the second. The brick in Newt’s right hand, picked up from amongst the heap of debris moments earlier, gives Newt the extra few centimetres of reach he needs. The brick makes an awful cracking noise as it hits Thesues’ temple and Theseus drops like a stone.

Newt eyes the sprawled form of his brother with trepidation - it would not be the first time that his brother has feigned unconsciousness on him, but the way that he fell would suggest otherwise. Cautiously he pokes his brother with the toe of his boot. No response. Newt glances down at the brick in his right hand, notices the faint reddish splatters of blood coating the edge and drops it on reflex. Newt drops into a crouch and places a hand on his brother’s chest. Relief flood his veins when he feels the steady up and down movement of Theseus’ diagram, leaving him light headed.

Newt sits down heavily, lifting a hand to his throat and rubbing small circles in the muscles. He still doesn’t quite feel like he’s getting enough air, but after half a dozen controlled, calm breath, he can feel his heart rate start to lower. Newt waves a hand idly and summon his and his brother’s wand. Next to him, Theseus lets out a low groan and his eyelids flutter slightly.

Newt peers at his sibling’s face.

‘Theseus?’ he asks - or rather, tries to. What actually comes out is nothing more than a faint rasping noise, accompanied by a sharp pain in his throat. Newt grimaces and stops trying to talk.

Instead, he settles for gently placing a hand on Theseus’ head. The weight is enough to register somewhere in his brother's subconscious, Theseus, who stirs and opens his eyes. Newt waits to remove his hand from his brother's forehead until his brother succeeds on focusing his gaze on Newt's face. After a moment's pause, Theseus sits up cautiously, bringing a hand to his head. His fingers come back slightly red stained and he squints at Newt through what is probably the start of a killer headache.

‘A brick, Newt? Really?’

Newt shrugs and gestures towards his throat. Even without words, his brother gets his meaning.

‘Ah. Voice box impaired, then. Fair enough retaliation.’ Theseus pauses and Newt can see the cogs work. ‘That would explain why you’re not insisting on running the diagnostic spells yourself. Little tricky to do wordlessly.’

Newt nods. Pauses, then twirls a finger at Theseus’ head for emphasis.

Theseus looks offended. ‘My head is screwed on perfectly fine, thank you very much.'

Newt waves a half-hearted apology, then offers Theseus' wand back to him, hilt first. Theseus accepts it and slips it back into its holster. Newt gets his feet underneath him and carefully stands upright. His balance seems reasonable, so he offers a hand to his brother, who accepts it gratefully. Theseus sways slightly once back on his feet, but steadies himself on Newt’s shoulder. Newt pats the hand resting on his shoulder and switches his to his right hand.

‘You’re sure?’ Theseus asks. ‘I’d help clear it up, but with my headache I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t make it worse.’

Newt nods firmly. The amount of practice he’s had repairing structural damage means that performing the repairs wandlessly is no hardship.

First up, however, is a spell to dematerialise the wreck of the grand piano. Following that, Newt moves his wand in a slow, sweeping arc, willing the brickwork, plaster and floorboards back into the correct positions. Building materials whirl through the air as if caught in a tornado, slotting back into the floor. The last board settles into place with a faint click, and Newt ends the spell.

Theseus squeezes his shoulder, murmuring ‘Nice job.’

Newt flicks a brief smile at him, then gestures in the direction of the arched doorway which leads out of the arena.

Theseus sighs. ‘Suppose you’re right.’

The two of them begin to make their slightly wobbly way out towards the exit, Theseus keeping up the verbal end of a slightly one-sided conversation. Newt keeps half an eye on his brother as they go - head wounds always did have the tendency to make Theseus talk more than usual. The Scamander brothers reach the doorway and pause briefly.

Newts gaze slides across to meet his brother's eyes. They exchange wry smiles.

'Ready to be accosted by MACUSA's medical staff?' Theseus asks.

Newt huffs a silent laugh, then reaches across and gives his brother a gentle shove through the door frame, before stepping through himself.