Tina’s Americanisms had grown and multiplied in time, an object of ceaseless wonder to the Briton and the linguist in him. Newt would have paused to write down this one if he hadn’t been reeling under the news.
"They can’t do that!"
"Sit this one out, too? They can and will." Percival’s eyes, ever dark and broody, now magnified by the black-framed glasses, moved to him. "Have meant to since the Ghost splashed Dumbledore’s death all over its front page. They think the dam is broke, the Statute’s a goner in Europe, and now they want diplomacy a zero-sum game while they stoke up their wards. Quahog thinks if he’s very, very lucky, and keeps us all under a force field, the No-Majs will put it to a case of Old World hysteria."
"He can’t do this!" Tina was jutting up her chin and fists, a very Tina response. "We had an agreement! I gave Minerva McGonagall my personal word that Ilvermorny would take in each and every child – "
"I’m sorry," Percival said, his gaze still searching Newt’s. "I’ve done my best, Tina. But to Quahog, I’m yesterday’s man. It’s all Take in the kids, the families will want in next, and who knows what they’ll bring with them? "
"They know the answer to that. Morrigan’s sake, they pass our memorial to that, twice a day on their office days!"
"Squabbles and partisan rifts," Percival said grimly, "and a rain check with Voldemort the size of a Thunderbird storm. Can’t afford to get his eye, can we, Graves? Not when he’s been such a gent as to look the other way the last three years. It was all I could do to finagle a pass for Rolf."
"And I thanked you, then, in my brother’s name. And I’ll thank you now to give me mine." At last Newt held the somber gaze, having looked around one last time to check that he was leaving no window unlatched.
"What?"
"Tina, come on. He’s Percival-of-course. D’you really think he’d come unprepared? Or come to gloat?"
Tina looked carefully from one man to the other. If Perce’s thin twitch of lips did not give him away, Newt thought, his right hand would, pushed deep down his right-hand pocket.
"…No," she said, the word tilting up her own mouth. "Not Percival-of-course. Okay, then. I’m going to need thicker boots and leather gloves. Oh, and a cape, too – it’s England. Can I use your plaid?"
It was Newt’s turn to pause.
"Newt." Tina was wrapping herself briskly in her new cape, which still bore a few scratches from Hoppy’s kitten trials in harpooning himself across the couch. "This dragon business beats every gig you’ve talked me into the last seventy years, uh huh, "do the Hippogriff" included, which I’m never doing again until your next hundredth birthday dance. I’m in."
Newt glanced over to where Percival stood, his face unreadable.
"But Ilvermorny –"
"Well, somebody else can give the Alpha Werewolf Frat a talking-to, for a change. Or tell young Rolf that family quirks are all well and good, but I want that Augurey out of the lockers by lunch bell. It’s making Coach jumpy."
Newt glanced again.
"Emphatically Tina," was all Percival said.
The fire had been cowering now there would be no more guests, but Newt felt its unseen light burn his cheek, his eyes, making its habitat inside his chest. He felt half his age and twice his strength as he took up his pack again. "All right then," he said, and his heart glowed up, hot and brilliant like an Ashwinder’s egg. "We're doing this. What's the trick?"
"Here." Percival took his hand out of his pocket. To Newt’s surprise, it was empty. "My cufflinks," came next. "I had them Portkeyed a month ago, when I booked a long-distance trip online. Then I paid… the site a little visit later on to update its status. Officially, I was on a health hike in Switzerland last week. Better than risk us on an unauthorized item, really: I set up the tracking protocole for those."
"Mercy Lewis." Tina had sat down abruptly. "Sir, you do realize that makes you the perpetrator of a Section 6 Breach of – and did you say last month? Why on earth would you decide, a whole month ago –"
"Of course I would." Percival smiled briskly; turned to Accio the forgotten pack. "Newt, where are we going? And how many Houdinis did you fit in here?"
"Ah, oh." Newt, who had been trying to keep with the strong underdrift of not-gonna-say, started. "Well, the Newswitch was awfully vague as to the where and when, and with a blind or near-blind animal, it gets a tad complicated to retrace a route. So I thought I’d spend the night in Dorset and then, well, put my ear to the road. Check out the Prophet, call the Ministry to check if…" Newt’s voice faltered at Tina’s snag of breath. "What? It would just be a routine inquiry, they know me there!"
"Newt, no." Percival’s voice was gravelly with more than age. "Whatever you do, keep away from the Ministry. They won’t tell you much these days, and they’ll ask far too plenty."
"Where, then?" Newt asked plaintively, but he took a step forward on seeing the green stones flare up on each of Perce’s cuffs. He caught the outstretched hand, all questions lost to the quick of departure, only trust left – that Tina was clinging to Perce’s other arm, that one or the other, or both, knew their way out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hoppy and Mauler dash across the room and sent a fond goodbye under the couch. Then magic called, hard and pure, hurtling him across multiple planes of being as he closed his eyes and leant into the counter-grip of Percival’s hand.
Fill: There and Back (3/?)
Tina’s Americanisms had grown and multiplied in time, an object of ceaseless wonder to the Briton and the linguist in him. Newt would have paused to write down this one if he hadn’t been reeling under the news.
"They can’t do that!"
"Sit this one out, too? They can and will." Percival’s eyes, ever dark and broody, now magnified by the black-framed glasses, moved to him. "Have meant to since the Ghost splashed Dumbledore’s death all over its front page. They think the dam is broke, the Statute’s a goner in Europe, and now they want diplomacy a zero-sum game while they stoke up their wards. Quahog thinks if he’s very, very lucky, and keeps us all under a force field, the No-Majs will put it to a case of Old World hysteria."
"He can’t do this!" Tina was jutting up her chin and fists, a very Tina response. "We had an agreement! I gave Minerva McGonagall my personal word that Ilvermorny would take in each and every child – "
"I’m sorry," Percival said, his gaze still searching Newt’s. "I’ve done my best, Tina. But to Quahog, I’m yesterday’s man. It’s all Take in the kids, the families will want in next, and who knows what they’ll bring with them? "
"They know the answer to that. Morrigan’s sake, they pass our memorial to that, twice a day on their office days!"
"Squabbles and partisan rifts," Percival said grimly, "and a rain check with Voldemort the size of a Thunderbird storm. Can’t afford to get his eye, can we, Graves? Not when he’s been such a gent as to look the other way the last three years. It was all I could do to finagle a pass for Rolf."
"And I thanked you, then, in my brother’s name. And I’ll thank you now to give me mine." At last Newt held the somber gaze, having looked around one last time to check that he was leaving no window unlatched.
"What?"
"Tina, come on. He’s Percival-of-course. D’you really think he’d come unprepared? Or come to gloat?"
Tina looked carefully from one man to the other. If Perce’s thin twitch of lips did not give him away, Newt thought, his right hand would, pushed deep down his right-hand pocket.
"…No," she said, the word tilting up her own mouth. "Not Percival-of-course. Okay, then. I’m going to need thicker boots and leather gloves. Oh, and a cape, too – it’s England. Can I use your plaid?"
It was Newt’s turn to pause.
"Newt." Tina was wrapping herself briskly in her new cape, which still bore a few scratches from Hoppy’s kitten trials in harpooning himself across the couch. "This dragon business beats every gig you’ve talked me into the last seventy years, uh huh, "do the Hippogriff" included, which I’m never doing again until your next hundredth birthday dance. I’m in."
Newt glanced over to where Percival stood, his face unreadable.
"But Ilvermorny –"
"Well, somebody else can give the Alpha Werewolf Frat a talking-to, for a change. Or tell young Rolf that family quirks are all well and good, but I want that Augurey out of the lockers by lunch bell. It’s making Coach jumpy."
Newt glanced again.
"Emphatically Tina," was all Percival said.
The fire had been cowering now there would be no more guests, but Newt felt its unseen light burn his cheek, his eyes, making its habitat inside his chest. He felt half his age and twice his strength as he took up his pack again. "All right then," he said, and his heart glowed up, hot and brilliant like an Ashwinder’s egg. "We're doing this. What's the trick?"
"Here." Percival took his hand out of his pocket. To Newt’s surprise, it was empty. "My cufflinks," came next. "I had them Portkeyed a month ago, when I booked a long-distance trip online. Then I paid… the site a little visit later on to update its status. Officially, I was on a health hike in Switzerland last week. Better than risk us on an unauthorized item, really: I set up the tracking protocole for those."
"Mercy Lewis." Tina had sat down abruptly. "Sir, you do realize that makes you the perpetrator of a Section 6 Breach of – and did you say last month? Why on earth would you decide, a whole month ago –"
"Of course I would." Percival smiled briskly; turned to Accio the forgotten pack. "Newt, where are we going? And how many Houdinis did you fit in here?"
"Ah, oh." Newt, who had been trying to keep with the strong underdrift of not-gonna-say, started. "Well, the Newswitch was awfully vague as to the where and when, and with a blind or near-blind animal, it gets a tad complicated to retrace a route. So I thought I’d spend the night in Dorset and then, well, put my ear to the road. Check out the Prophet, call the Ministry to check if…" Newt’s voice faltered at Tina’s snag of breath. "What? It would just be a routine inquiry, they know me there!"
"Newt, no." Percival’s voice was gravelly with more than age. "Whatever you do, keep away from the Ministry. They won’t tell you much these days, and they’ll ask far too plenty."
"Where, then?" Newt asked plaintively, but he took a step forward on seeing the green stones flare up on each of Perce’s cuffs. He caught the outstretched hand, all questions lost to the quick of departure, only trust left – that Tina was clinging to Perce’s other arm, that one or the other, or both, knew their way out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hoppy and Mauler dash across the room and sent a fond goodbye under the couch. Then magic called, hard and pure, hurtling him across multiple planes of being as he closed his eyes and leant into the counter-grip of Percival’s hand.