//Soo, here is my take on this prompt. I hope it's at least kind of what the OP imagined, and please don't question all the plotholes too much. //
Today was not the worst Thursday Percival Graves had ever experienced, but it certainly came close. Perhaps it even made the top 5 Worst Thursdays Of All Time, because it certainly beat the current No. 5, which had been a birthday party thrown for Graves by his noisy employees. Birthday parties, Graves decided now, were not as bad as equally skilled, creative and batshit insane wizards.
Ted Brookes used to work at MACUSA, once upon a time, before he had been fired for ... what exactly, Graves wasn’t sure. He did know, however, that since then, Brookes had used his time to develop new spells. Last Graves had heard, Brookes was planning to publish a book about the spells, become rich, and move to a faraway island.
Apparently though, the man had not only returned to New York, but had also thought it a good idea to test his spells on innocent victims – “field study”, Newt had called it with a knowing smile as if he could relate, before the magizoologist had shrunk under Graves’ glare.
The whole reason why Graves wasn’t handling this on his own was because ever since the Grindelwald incident, Piquery forced him to use backup. In theory a sensible idea, in practise just annoying – something Graves and his employees actually agreed one, the first because he could not stand the thought of needing a chaperon, the latter because Graves made his disapprovement very clear.
Currently Goldstein had the misfortune of babysitting – providing back up. And because she apparently felt she couldn’t handle him on her own, she had brought Newt Scamander, who had returned to the United States a few weeks ago and had mostly hung out at MACUSA, distracting the Goldstein sisters from their work by bringing dangerous creatures with him and “accidentally” setting them free. Graves usually made a point of ignoring Newt, partly because he didn’t want to arrest him, mostly though because Newt was irritatingly shy around him. Graves suspected it was because Newt only knew him as Grindelwald, which didn’t exactly help the matter.
“Tell me again why you felt the need to bring a civilian into a potentially dangerous situation?” Graves hissed under his breath as they watched Brookes sitting in the bar they had entered a few minutes ago, making chitchat with the bartender while absent-mindedly playing with his wand, no pun intended. They couldn’t interfere until Brooke would actually do something, so in the meanwhile they just had to wait for the inevitable and hope that Brooke hadn’t invented any new killing spells.
“I am so sorry, sir” Goldstein whispered at the same time as Newt said:
“I’m not actually a civilian, you know.” Graves ignored his employee and for the moment focused entirely on Newt.
“Are you trained as an Auror?”
“No.”
“Then you have received formal training in duels and the sort?” Newt frowned.
“No, but-“
“And in the war, what was it you did again?”
“Oh, I was working with dragons.”
“Nothing at the front? You weren’t involved in the actual fighting?”
“Ah, no.”
“In that case, Mr. Scamander, you are a civilian, and I would very much advise you to Disapparate.”
“Absolutely not” Newt said firmly, because making Graves’ day easier was out of the question. Graves suppressed a sigh, because regrettably, the magizoologist was a grown man, and Graves couldn’t force him to leave.
“Goldstein, make sure nothing happens to him” he said, and got his wand out the second Brookes aimed his own at one of the guests, who fell to the floor with a silent scream stuck in his throat.
“You”, Graves said a few minutes later with as much calm as he could muster, “will spend the next three years in the Wand Permit office if I get any say in the matter.”
“With respect, Mr. Graves, I was just following the instructions we got at that staff training last week” Goldstein replied, sounding meeker than usual, which was probably due to the situation they were in now, and her part in it.
“He’s actually a very talented man. Have you considered employing him?” asked Newt as though they hadn’t been talking, and as though the “very talented man” he was suggesting as a potential new employee had not just captivated the three of them with magical, invisible shackles before using them for his experimental spells – the effect of which none of them could tell so far. What made things worse was that he had not even be trying hard – a wave of his wand, and they were captured, another wave which had caused a slight twist in their stomachs, and then he had left. He had not even really looked at them.
“Newt”, Goldstein hissed, “shut up”.
“Listen to your friend”, Graves advised, and then took the time to actually consider their situation.
“Can you two feel anything yet?” Both shook their heads. That was a good thing, Graves reckoned. Maybe the spell hadn’t worked. Maybe Brookes was a madman who had no idea what he was doing, and the reputation he had earned himself was based on lies and illusions. Maybe – maybe he suddenly felt his clothes loosen and his hair grow several inches. Yes, Graves decided as he looked at his now perfectly smooth hands, definitely Top 5.
His gaze wandered from his own figure to Goldstein, who looked ten years younger, and not in a good way.
“So this spell turns us into teenagers” he said soberly. “We’ve got to applaud Mr. Brookes on creating an entirely useless spell. – Why are you laughing?”
“Not laughing, Sir” Goldstein said hastily with the guilty expression of somebody who tries their best to contain their amusement. Graves thought about his teenaged appearance, and his brief rebellious phase of leather clothes and long hair.
“Wand Permit Office” he repeated, satisfied with the instant glum expression that crossed Goldstein’s face.
“Not just teenagers”, somebody suddenly said, and it took Graves longer than he would have admitted to recognise the high, childlike voice as Newt’s. He turned, and found himself facing a boy not older than ten. The facial features seemed vaguely familiar, not yet grown into the face of the man he knew Newt would become – had become. But the freckles were the same, and so was the unruly ginger hair.
“So the spell turns people younger, but the eventual age depends on the individual. Seems rather an odd thing to do. I think my body is 15 or 16 years old at the moment, because the scar that I got on my hand when I was 17 is missing.”
“Why’d you get the scar in the first place?” Graves asked, momentarily caught up in his interest. Goldstein blushed and mumbled something, as though Newt’s behaviour had finally rubbed off on her. “What was that?”
“I. Uhm.” She cleared her throat. “I might have cut myself while cooking.”
“Without using a wand?”
“Queenie is the one who’s skilled when it comes to that. Also I, ah. Might have wanted to impress this boy...” The director for magical security did his best to hide his amusement.
“Did you?”
“Well, after we had been to the hospital wing, we kissed, so I’d count that as a success.”
“Undoubtedly” Graves said dryly. “Bleeding, I’ve heard, is certainly a very – attractive quality.” If it hadn’t been obvious before that Graves was in a bad mood because of the whole kidnapping business, his sudden jokes and attitude that almost passed as warmth certainly were a good indicator for Goldstein, who now turned to Newt, as if making a point of ignoring her boss.
Before she could say anything, however, the Villain of the Day reappeared, wearing the surprised yet satisfied smile of a person who didn’t expect something to work out, but is pleased nevertheless. He crouched down in front of them, bringing them to the same eyelevel.
“Mr. Graves” he said, almost in awe. “Do you remember me?” Graves would have loved to say that he did, if only so that nobody could accuse him of a bad memory, but truth be told, he had absolutely no recollection of ever seeing this man before today. Yes, he knew him from his file, but that was about it.
“I read your file” he replied truthfully, feeling almost a tad of guilt when Brookes looked slightly disappointed.
“Oh, well. Can’t have everything, I suppose. And whom did you bring with you? Martina Goldstein, is it? I’ve heard of you. Not very popular in criminal circles, are you?”
“It’s Porpentina, and No.” She probably would have looked more impressive as a 26-year old. Now she just looked like a sulky teenager. Brookes shook his head, smiling to himself, and then turned to where Newt was sitting, and for the first time he appeared irritated.
“You brought a child? Is it bring-your-son-to-work-day? Or is MACUSA using kids as a form of guilt tripping now?”
“Actually, I appear to have been affected by your spell as well, Mr. Brookes” Newt said. Graves found himself wishing that the magizoologist wouldn’t always be so damn polite. For some reason, Brookes tensed upon hearing that.
“But – you can’t. Merlin’s beard, how old were you?” A beat.
“I- I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand” Newt said then. The other wizard was ignoring him now, muttering to himself.
“But, I did everything right! It should’ve worked, it should have. Unicorns are the key, I thought.”
“Unicorns” the magizoologist repeated. “You mean – oh. Well, this certainly clears things up.”
“It really doesn’t” Goldstein said at the same time as Graves asked sharply:
“What about unicorns?”
“I’m sorry” Brookes said, only addressing Newt now. The man – boy – frowned.
“There really is no need for that. I’m perfectly fine – or I will be, assuming that this spell will wear off soon? Deaging spells usually do, although quite frankly, I’m not sure what effects the use of unicorn hair will have. – You did use their hair, didn’t you?”
“I did. No harm done, I can assure you. But – I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.” Brookes’ voice was trembling a little. At least, Graves figured, at least Newt looked as confused as he felt. “Goodbye” Brookes said rather dramatically, and disapparated.
“Mr. Scamander, if you could please be so kind to inform me what is going on, I’d be much grateful to you.” Newt appeared to be pulled out of a deep thought process as he focused his attention on the director for magical security and gave the latter a somewhat unsure smile.
“You see, it appears that Mr. Brookes used the aid of a unicorn to help create this spell – I really do hope the unicorn is alright. A-anyway, unicorn hairs tend to, ah, add a certain spice to deaging spells. I suppose they do increase the potency – after all, unicorns are all about youth, but they also – well, there really isn’t a polite way to put this, I’m afraid. Unicorns are all about, ah, purity, you see. And purity is generally found in...ahem.”
“Virgins” Graves ended the sentence automatically when the penny dropped. Next to him Goldstein made a noise he couldn’t identify. “So, this spell-“
“Turns people into the age before they lost their virginity, yes. Now, I’m actually not sure what Mr. Brookes intended to do with this, but seeing as it worked, I stand by my earlier assumption that he’s quite skilful, if perhaps a bit odd concerning his work choices.”
“Newt-“ Goldstein began in a worried tone of voice. Newt only smiled more brightly, and actually looked her in the eye when he answered, something Graves couldn’t help be jealous of.
“Now, there’s nothing to worry about. The effects will only last a few hours at the most. Merlin knows I don’t want to be stuck in a ten year old’s body forever. My creatures might not even recognise me like that, so I’ll have to-“
“Newt!” And, finally, yet another penny dropped in Graves’ mind, and he understood why his employee was looking outraged.
“Yes, Tina?” So innocent, Graves thought, and not only because the words were spoken with the voice of a ten year old. Goldstein in the meanwhile seemed to be experiencing a mixture of horror and sadness.
“Newt, are you- if you want to talk about it-“
“Talk about what?” Since Goldstein didn’t seem to plan on filling the silence that occurred after Newt’s question anytime soon, Graves stepped in.
“About how you – so young.”
“Oh.”
“I’m probably not the best kind of person for this, but I’m sure Goldst- Tina would. If. If this is something you would like to tell somebody.” Newt, if possible, seemed even more confused.
“I can tell you right now, if you want to. Mind you, it’s not exactly the best small talk subject, but – well, he was a friend of my dad’s, you see, and one summer he let me stay at his place for the night while my parents were away. It was more of a favour to my dad than anything else – when I was little people weren’t exactly a-asking to have me around, you know. Not that they, not that they do that now, but, well, anyway, so he allowed me to sleep over, and it was just natural for me to, to repay him in some way. I wasn’t an easy child, you see.” Newt’s voice slowly drifted off. Graves realised that while the other wizard had been speaking, all of them had changed back. Brookes’ spell had not been that potent after all.
The magizoologist didn’t make eye contact when he was finished, but then, nothing new there.
“Did he – do it again?” Graves found it impressive that his employee was still able to speak. He himself felt such an incredible rage burning inside him that he felt he couldn’t possible trust his voice. Newt ducked his head slightly at the question.
“Only – only once. Then, I mean, Theseus, that’s my brother, he found out about it and wasn’t, ah, thrilled. He’s always overreacting though. Once in my first year he punched somebody just because they had pushed me down the stairs.”
“Right” Goldstein said quietly. She studied Newt for a few more seconds before visibly composing herself, having made a silent decision. She got up, the shackles long since disappeared, and pulled Newt up from the floor, too, before holding out her arm, readying herself for a side-by-side-apparation. Newt hesitated.
“Where are we going?”
“My place. I think we both deserve some hot cocoa after today’s events.” The magizoologist considerably brightened up at that, this time taking her arm without giving it much thought. Goldstein didn’t look at Graves as she disapparated.
The latter stayed at the floor for a couple minutes more, trying to make sense of Newt Scamander. Trying to combine the image of the abused, bullied ten year old boy with the shy yet mostly cheerful twenty-something year old man. Trying to make a decision about what to do to the man who had dared lay a finger on a child. A child that just so happened to later grow into one of the most extraordinary men Graves had ever met.
The decision was made easier that evening when Graves was back in his office and Goldstein came in without knocking.
“His name is Roderick Marsh and he’s still living in England.”
“It’s good to see that your sister is not abusing her power for her own interests” Graves replied, simply because he was Goldstein’s boss after all. The much bigger part of him, however, focused on the 237 things he would have liked to do to that man. He had made a list. Goldstein merely raised her eyebrows.
“You will do something about him?”
“Go home” he said. Everybody else would have taken it as a rejection. Goldstein understood it for what it was. She lingered for another second, then said “thank you” and walked out.
He would take another day or so to decide, Graves thought then. There was no rush, and Marsh could wait a bit more. Until then, he would concentrate on erasing the scars another man had imprinted on Newt’s soul, even if Newt was oblivious to them.
Maybe, if Newt would let him, he could even give him the love he deserved.
Re: De-aging, rape/non-con, Underage, any pairing, hurt!Newt
Today was not the worst Thursday Percival Graves had ever experienced, but it certainly came close. Perhaps it even made the top 5 Worst Thursdays Of All Time, because it certainly beat the current No. 5, which had been a birthday party thrown for Graves by his noisy employees. Birthday parties, Graves decided now, were not as bad as equally skilled, creative and batshit insane wizards.
Ted Brookes used to work at MACUSA, once upon a time, before he had been fired for ... what exactly, Graves wasn’t sure. He did know, however, that since then, Brookes had used his time to develop new spells. Last Graves had heard, Brookes was planning to publish a book about the spells, become rich, and move to a faraway island.
Apparently though, the man had not only returned to New York, but had also thought it a good idea to test his spells on innocent victims – “field study”, Newt had called it with a knowing smile as if he could relate, before the magizoologist had shrunk under Graves’ glare.
The whole reason why Graves wasn’t handling this on his own was because ever since the Grindelwald incident, Piquery forced him to use backup. In theory a sensible idea, in practise just annoying – something Graves and his employees actually agreed one, the first because he could not stand the thought of needing a chaperon, the latter because Graves made his disapprovement very clear.
Currently Goldstein had the misfortune of babysitting – providing back up. And because she apparently felt she couldn’t handle him on her own, she had brought Newt Scamander, who had returned to the United States a few weeks ago and had mostly hung out at MACUSA, distracting the Goldstein sisters from their work by bringing dangerous creatures with him and “accidentally” setting them free. Graves usually made a point of ignoring Newt, partly because he didn’t want to arrest him, mostly though because Newt was irritatingly shy around him. Graves suspected it was because Newt only knew him as Grindelwald, which didn’t exactly help the matter.
“Tell me again why you felt the need to bring a civilian into a potentially dangerous situation?” Graves hissed under his breath as they watched Brookes sitting in the bar they had entered a few minutes ago, making chitchat with the bartender while absent-mindedly playing with his wand, no pun intended. They couldn’t interfere until Brooke would actually do something, so in the meanwhile they just had to wait for the inevitable and hope that Brooke hadn’t invented any new killing spells.
“I am so sorry, sir” Goldstein whispered at the same time as Newt said:
“I’m not actually a civilian, you know.” Graves ignored his employee and for the moment focused entirely on Newt.
“Are you trained as an Auror?”
“No.”
“Then you have received formal training in duels and the sort?” Newt frowned.
“No, but-“
“And in the war, what was it you did again?”
“Oh, I was working with dragons.”
“Nothing at the front? You weren’t involved in the actual fighting?”
“Ah, no.”
“In that case, Mr. Scamander, you are a civilian, and I would very much advise you to Disapparate.”
“Absolutely not” Newt said firmly, because making Graves’ day easier was out of the question. Graves suppressed a sigh, because regrettably, the magizoologist was a grown man, and Graves couldn’t force him to leave.
“Goldstein, make sure nothing happens to him” he said, and got his wand out the second Brookes aimed his own at one of the guests, who fell to the floor with a silent scream stuck in his throat.
“You”, Graves said a few minutes later with as much calm as he could muster, “will spend the next three years in the Wand Permit office if I get any say in the matter.”
“With respect, Mr. Graves, I was just following the instructions we got at that staff training last week” Goldstein replied, sounding meeker than usual, which was probably due to the situation they were in now, and her part in it.
“He’s actually a very talented man. Have you considered employing him?” asked Newt as though they hadn’t been talking, and as though the “very talented man” he was suggesting as a potential new employee had not just captivated the three of them with magical, invisible shackles before using them for his experimental spells – the effect of which none of them could tell so far. What made things worse was that he had not even be trying hard – a wave of his wand, and they were captured, another wave which had caused a slight twist in their stomachs, and then he had left. He had not even really looked at them.
“Newt”, Goldstein hissed, “shut up”.
“Listen to your friend”, Graves advised, and then took the time to actually consider their situation.
“Can you two feel anything yet?” Both shook their heads. That was a good thing, Graves reckoned. Maybe the spell hadn’t worked. Maybe Brookes was a madman who had no idea what he was doing, and the reputation he had earned himself was based on lies and illusions. Maybe – maybe he suddenly felt his clothes loosen and his hair grow several inches. Yes, Graves decided as he looked at his now perfectly smooth hands, definitely Top 5.
His gaze wandered from his own figure to Goldstein, who looked ten years younger, and not in a good way.
“So this spell turns us into teenagers” he said soberly. “We’ve got to applaud Mr. Brookes on creating an entirely useless spell. – Why are you laughing?”
“Not laughing, Sir” Goldstein said hastily with the guilty expression of somebody who tries their best to contain their amusement. Graves thought about his teenaged appearance, and his brief rebellious phase of leather clothes and long hair.
“Wand Permit Office” he repeated, satisfied with the instant glum expression that crossed Goldstein’s face.
“Not just teenagers”, somebody suddenly said, and it took Graves longer than he would have admitted to recognise the high, childlike voice as Newt’s. He turned, and found himself facing a boy not older than ten. The facial features seemed vaguely familiar, not yet grown into the face of the man he knew Newt would become – had become. But the freckles were the same, and so was the unruly ginger hair.
“So the spell turns people younger, but the eventual age depends on the individual. Seems rather an odd thing to do. I think my body is 15 or 16 years old at the moment, because the scar that I got on my hand when I was 17 is missing.”
“Why’d you get the scar in the first place?” Graves asked, momentarily caught up in his interest. Goldstein blushed and mumbled something, as though Newt’s behaviour had finally rubbed off on her. “What was that?”
“I. Uhm.” She cleared her throat. “I might have cut myself while cooking.”
“Without using a wand?”
“Queenie is the one who’s skilled when it comes to that. Also I, ah. Might have wanted to impress this boy...” The director for magical security did his best to hide his amusement.
“Did you?”
“Well, after we had been to the hospital wing, we kissed, so I’d count that as a success.”
“Undoubtedly” Graves said dryly. “Bleeding, I’ve heard, is certainly a very – attractive quality.”
If it hadn’t been obvious before that Graves was in a bad mood because of the whole kidnapping business, his sudden jokes and attitude that almost passed as warmth certainly were a good indicator for Goldstein, who now turned to Newt, as if making a point of ignoring her boss.
Before she could say anything, however, the Villain of the Day reappeared, wearing the surprised yet satisfied smile of a person who didn’t expect something to work out, but is pleased nevertheless.
He crouched down in front of them, bringing them to the same eyelevel.
“Mr. Graves” he said, almost in awe. “Do you remember me?” Graves would have loved to say that he did, if only so that nobody could accuse him of a bad memory, but truth be told, he had absolutely no recollection of ever seeing this man before today. Yes, he knew him from his file, but that was about it.
“I read your file” he replied truthfully, feeling almost a tad of guilt when Brookes looked slightly disappointed.
“Oh, well. Can’t have everything, I suppose. And whom did you bring with you? Martina Goldstein, is it? I’ve heard of you. Not very popular in criminal circles, are you?”
“It’s Porpentina, and No.” She probably would have looked more impressive as a 26-year old. Now she just looked like a sulky teenager. Brookes shook his head, smiling to himself, and then turned to where Newt was sitting, and for the first time he appeared irritated.
“You brought a child? Is it bring-your-son-to-work-day? Or is MACUSA using kids as a form of guilt tripping now?”
“Actually, I appear to have been affected by your spell as well, Mr. Brookes” Newt said. Graves found himself wishing that the magizoologist wouldn’t always be so damn polite.
For some reason, Brookes tensed upon hearing that.
“But – you can’t. Merlin’s beard, how old were you?” A beat.
“I- I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand” Newt said then. The other wizard was ignoring him now, muttering to himself.
“But, I did everything right! It should’ve worked, it should have. Unicorns are the key, I thought.”
“Unicorns” the magizoologist repeated. “You mean – oh. Well, this certainly clears things up.”
“It really doesn’t” Goldstein said at the same time as Graves asked sharply:
“What about unicorns?”
“I’m sorry” Brookes said, only addressing Newt now. The man – boy – frowned.
“There really is no need for that. I’m perfectly fine – or I will be, assuming that this spell will wear off soon? Deaging spells usually do, although quite frankly, I’m not sure what effects the use of unicorn hair will have. – You did use their hair, didn’t you?”
“I did. No harm done, I can assure you. But – I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.” Brookes’ voice was trembling a little. At least, Graves figured, at least Newt looked as confused as he felt. “Goodbye” Brookes said rather dramatically, and disapparated.
“Mr. Scamander, if you could please be so kind to inform me what is going on, I’d be much grateful to you.” Newt appeared to be pulled out of a deep thought process as he focused his attention on the director for magical security and gave the latter a somewhat unsure smile.
“You see, it appears that Mr. Brookes used the aid of a unicorn to help create this spell – I really do hope the unicorn is alright. A-anyway, unicorn hairs tend to, ah, add a certain spice to deaging spells. I suppose they do increase the potency – after all, unicorns are all about youth, but they also – well, there really isn’t a polite way to put this, I’m afraid. Unicorns are all about, ah, purity, you see. And purity is generally found in...ahem.”
“Virgins” Graves ended the sentence automatically when the penny dropped. Next to him Goldstein made a noise he couldn’t identify. “So, this spell-“
“Turns people into the age before they lost their virginity, yes. Now, I’m actually not sure what Mr. Brookes intended to do with this, but seeing as it worked, I stand by my earlier assumption that he’s quite skilful, if perhaps a bit odd concerning his work choices.”
“Newt-“ Goldstein began in a worried tone of voice. Newt only smiled more brightly, and actually looked her in the eye when he answered, something Graves couldn’t help be jealous of.
“Now, there’s nothing to worry about. The effects will only last a few hours at the most. Merlin knows I don’t want to be stuck in a ten year old’s body forever. My creatures might not even recognise me like that, so I’ll have to-“
“Newt!” And, finally, yet another penny dropped in Graves’ mind, and he understood why his employee was looking outraged.
“Yes, Tina?” So innocent, Graves thought, and not only because the words were spoken with the voice of a ten year old.
Goldstein in the meanwhile seemed to be experiencing a mixture of horror and sadness.
“Newt, are you- if you want to talk about it-“
“Talk about what?” Since Goldstein didn’t seem to plan on filling the silence that occurred after Newt’s question anytime soon, Graves stepped in.
“About how you – so young.”
“Oh.”
“I’m probably not the best kind of person for this, but I’m sure Goldst- Tina would. If. If this is something you would like to tell somebody.” Newt, if possible, seemed even more confused.
“I can tell you right now, if you want to. Mind you, it’s not exactly the best small talk subject, but – well, he was a friend of my dad’s, you see, and one summer he let me stay at his place for the night while my parents were away. It was more of a favour to my dad than anything else – when I was little people weren’t exactly a-asking to have me around, you know. Not that they, not that they do that now, but, well, anyway, so he allowed me to sleep over, and it was just natural for me to, to repay him in some way. I wasn’t an easy child, you see.” Newt’s voice slowly drifted off. Graves realised that while the other wizard had been speaking, all of them had changed back. Brookes’ spell had not been that potent after all.
The magizoologist didn’t make eye contact when he was finished, but then, nothing new there.
“Did he – do it again?” Graves found it impressive that his employee was still able to speak. He himself felt such an incredible rage burning inside him that he felt he couldn’t possible trust his voice.
Newt ducked his head slightly at the question.
“Only – only once. Then, I mean, Theseus, that’s my brother, he found out about it and wasn’t, ah, thrilled. He’s always overreacting though. Once in my first year he punched somebody just because they had pushed me down the stairs.”
“Right” Goldstein said quietly. She studied Newt for a few more seconds before visibly composing herself, having made a silent decision. She got up, the shackles long since disappeared, and pulled Newt up from the floor, too, before holding out her arm, readying herself for a side-by-side-apparation. Newt hesitated.
“Where are we going?”
“My place. I think we both deserve some hot cocoa after today’s events.” The magizoologist considerably brightened up at that, this time taking her arm without giving it much thought. Goldstein didn’t look at Graves as she disapparated.
The latter stayed at the floor for a couple minutes more, trying to make sense of Newt Scamander. Trying to combine the image of the abused, bullied ten year old boy with the shy yet mostly cheerful twenty-something year old man. Trying to make a decision about what to do to the man who had dared lay a finger on a child. A child that just so happened to later grow into one of the most extraordinary men Graves had ever met.
The decision was made easier that evening when Graves was back in his office and Goldstein came in without knocking.
“His name is Roderick Marsh and he’s still living in England.”
“It’s good to see that your sister is not abusing her power for her own interests” Graves replied, simply because he was Goldstein’s boss after all. The much bigger part of him, however, focused on the 237 things he would have liked to do to that man. He had made a list.
Goldstein merely raised her eyebrows.
“You will do something about him?”
“Go home” he said. Everybody else would have taken it as a rejection. Goldstein understood it for what
it was. She lingered for another second, then said “thank you” and walked out.
He would take another day or so to decide, Graves thought then. There was no rush, and Marsh could wait a bit more. Until then, he would concentrate on erasing the scars another man had imprinted on Newt’s soul, even if Newt was oblivious to them.
Maybe, if Newt would let him, he could even give him the love he deserved.