Prompt Post #1

[fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme]

 ROUND 1

FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER

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Fill: Ab Irato (6/?)

[(Anonymous)]

“Newt…” Percival murmured softly. Theseus would be amazed to know his brother was still alive, but would also be deeply unhappy about the state that he was in. Had they known Newt was still alive, they would not have stopped searching for him. As it was, it felt like they had failed him. He cleared his throat, trying to work out what to say. “Newt.” He repeated, already working out what would be the next steps. He would have to get Theseus over to make a formal identification, report it, liaise with the Russian aurors – Newt’s last known location had been somewhere in a remote region of Russia – and discover where Newt had been the last two years.

Newt tilted his head, looking at Percival curiously before seeming to decide he was more concerned about the bowtruckle. Percival watched as he carefully removed a few small threads from the sling around his arm, and carefully wrapped it around the bowtruckle’s arm, forming a support for it. The bowtruckle held onto him tightly.

Percival sat down in the chair, reaching out to stroke Spot’s fur, gazing at Newt carefully. Here was Theseus’s little brother, and he was injured and frightened and unable to speak, but he was alive.
“I know that you said they eat pill bugs, I’ll get more for him. You need to rest, I shouldn’t be in here. But I’ll go now, and be back this evening. How many pill bugs does a bowtruckle need a day?”

Newt frowned a little, biting his lip, clearly unsure about being spoken to quite so directly. Percival couldn’t be sure what the other man had been doing over this time – caring for creatures clearly, but he wasn’t sure if he had been meant to or not. From what he knew of the man, he doubted that Newt would have willingly cooperated with the animal smuggling that had been happening.

Newt raised a hand, and held up five fingers. There was uncertainty in his eyes, as though he expected to be refused.
“Five. Okay, we can do that. I’m guessing because that one’s injured he might need a little bit more?” Percival asked, and Newt nodded silently. The relief across his face was obvious. Percival didn’t let himself consider what Newt would be willing to do to keep creatures safe – it was too unpleasant a path to stray down and he feared what he might learn. That was for the legilimens to discover. Percival’s job was to keep this from happening to anyone else.

“I’ll be back later with some pill bugs. You get some rest, I’m still wanting an interview when you are up to it.”
With that, Percival walked away, leaving Newt to look after the bowtruckle. He hoped that it pulled through. It would be too horrible if the creature didn’t make it. Already he was planning to bring any other creature he discovered on jobs to Newt, let him care for them and nurse them back to health. It might help him to rehabilitate. It was clear that Newt needed more good in his life, and this might be a way to provide at least a little of it.

He made his way to his office, and locked the door. He knew he could merely send a memo, but this was the kind of news he thought Theseus deserved to hear face to face. He paused in front of the fireplace, trying to work out how to break the news to his friend. He didn’t want to build up too much hope. Newt still hadn’t confirmed his identity, and he was clearly deeply traumatised.

He threw a pinch of powder into the fire, watching as the flames turned a vivid emerald green. Whilst the American and British Floo networks were separate, limited communication was allowed between the two ministries, and so he would be able to speak to Theseus. However, while fire calls were possible, full travel was not and so Theseus would need to use a portkey to travel across the Atlantic.
“Theseus Scamander.” He said clearly before sticking his head forwards into the flames.

The world swirled around him, and he only just managed to fight down the urge to be sick. Everything solidified and he found himself in Theseus’s oak-walled office. His friend was staring down at some paperwork with a look of anger on his face. Feeling rather awkward as a disembodied head in the fireplace, Percival coughed.

Theseus jumped slightly, his quill spitting out a blob of ink which Theseus banished with a wave of his hand. He looked over at the fireplace.
“Director.” Theseus walked forwards, and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, leaning in towards him. “I didn’t know we had a call scheduled today. One of my memos must have eaten the reminder. You know how it is. You miss the deadline on one report and the thing turns feral.”

Percival normally would have smiled at that comment, but today he was quiet, and shook his head.
“Unscheduled call I’m afraid.”
“What’s wrong?” Theseus asked, suddenly all business. “Has something happened?”

“I need you to come to America as soon as possible.” Percival said firmly.
“I can’t just-“ Theseus began to object, before pausing and then nodding sharply. “Is it about Newt?”
“I think so. But please don’t get your hopes up, I can’t be certain.”
Theseus nodded.
“I’ll get a portkey sorted for tonight, if that’s alright with you?”
“Thank you.” Percival closed his eyes for a second then looked up. “If I’m right, please don’t… don’t expect things to be instantly okay.”

Theseus looked at him, eyes cold, but he nodded his head a little. The situation with Newt would be hard to put into words, especially across such a great distance.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can be.” Theseus said, before leaving the room. Feeling nauseous, Percival pulled his head back out from the fireplace and started to write up the earlier break in at Jonker’s.

It was an hour or two later that Auror Goldstein stuck her head around the door.
“Sir, I’m checking on the man from the raid. Is there anything I should know?”
“Not yet, but I might be able to get a confirmation of his identity this evening.” Percival told her. “I would like a photograph of him and the bowtruckle, if you can provide that?”
“Yes sir.” She said quickly before slipping back out of the room.

Percival gazed at the report, trying to remember the word Theseus used for Newt’s choice of profession. Eventually he remembered, adding ‘placed into the care of a magizoologist’ to his notes. Even if the man wasn’t Newt, it was an accurate description.

Report written up, he sent it down to the Records Department and made his way to the President’s office, knocking smartly on the door.
“Come in Director.” She called out, and he stepped inside.
“I hear you rescued someone in the raid two days ago.”
“Yes. I believe him to be the missing brother of a British auror, and therefore I have requested that the brother comes over here in order to confirm the identification.”

Picquery nodded.
“Auror Davidson informed me that you suspect Grimsditch is linked.”
“I do Madam President.” Percival replied. “But I won’t be certain until I have been able to interview the man we found, and so far he has been unable to answer our questions. He is extremely traumatised. He will be working with a legilimens but so far they have not been able to get anything from him.”
“Don’t rush in throwing around accusations.” Picquery said firmly. “I understand your rivalry with Grimsditch goes back a long way, and I want to capture the person responsible for this as much as you do. But we have to have proof or they’ll tear us apart.”
“Yes Madam President.”

“Be careful okay?” She said, her voice softer now. This was Seraphina talking to him, an old school friend. “I know how much you want to hurt whoever did this but we have to be able to make it stick.”

“Thank you.” Percival nodded. “Scamander should be arriving soon, I want to be there to greet him.”
She nodded smartly.
“You are dismissed. But I want to be informed when you know his identity.”
“Yes ma’am.”

Percival returned to his desk to find that Goldstein had left the photograph he had requested there. The young man was sat in bed, deep in silent conversation with the bowtruckle, barely seeming to realise that his image was being taken. He slipped the photograph into his pocket, then headed down to the office that foreign portkeys landed in.

He didn’t have long to wait. The air in the middle of the room spun, and the standard British mailbag appeared in the centre of the room, Theseus Scamander stood beside it. The man looked exhausted, his eyes shadowed. The always smiling man from the war had lost his light when he lost his brother. Theseus stumbled slightly before managing to catch himself, walking to Percival and embraced him tightly.
“I missed you.” Theseus murmured, and Percival couldn’t help a smile.
“Well I’m here now. We’d best go to my office.”
“I want to see him.”

“Not until you’ve made an identification from a photograph. The man we are dealing with has severe gaps in his memory and isn’t speaking. I can’t risk him getting frightened.” Percival said strictly. He understood why Theseus wanted to see his brother, but he couldn’t rush into it.

Reluctantly, Theseus nodded. Percival returned to his office and closed the door, before reaching into his pocket for the photograph.
“I’m sorry if I’ve called you over for nothing.”
“I know you wouldn’t have meant to.” Theseus swallowed. “Let me see him.”

Percival passed over the photograph, and Theseus tensed, gazing at the image. Percival could see that the man in the photograph was looking down, his head bowed, but Theseus tilted the photograph and the man looked up.

Theseus was silent for a moment longer, before clearing his throat and turning to Percival.
“It’s him.”