ALL THE UGLY THINGS | NEWT SCAMANDER

ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ

CLEMENTINE FARLEY WAS, WITHOUT A DOUBT, GOING TO FAINT. If not, why did she feel so light-headed as she looked through Mr. Scamander's little shed? Windows show glimpses of the outside—or inside, if one is to be specific. It's humid and warm, unlike MACUSA, unlike the cell she was sent to die in. Her body buzzes with nerves, her nails biting into her palms as she squeezes them into fists.

Mena's eyes meet Mr. Scamander again. Her face flushes pink, ducking her head to stare at the floor. When she glances up, Bernie stares at her, furrowing his brow. He tilts his head in thought. She averts her gaze once more, focusing upon his desk, littered with little vials and varied sizes of bits of food.

Tina stares, bewildered, at the room. When Mena looks, she sees that Bernie's attention has switched to the eldest Goldstein. The younger cousin smiles knowingly. She wishes the man would just confess. His heart really only beat for her, after all. If you asked Mena, she'd say they were made for each other, woven from the same thread, built to—

"Is that a fizzbee?" Mena exclaims, breaking through her own thoughts. The bug zips through the air, hovering between her eyes, before whizzing away. She bites her lip harshly, stopping herself from going completely mad.

Bernie reaches over, squeezing Mena's shoulder softly. "You look like you're going to explode," he says quietly. All she can do is nod sharply.

They stand around awkwardly for a moment, Mr. Scamander fidgeting in place, making no movements to leave the shed. Disappointment washes over her body. Pity, she really wanted to see more of his creatures.

The suitcase swings open, curly bronze hair peeking into the shed. "I hid us on a rooftop a few blocks away," Queenie says, "I hope that's good enough!"

"That's quite—quite alright, Miss Goldstein," Mr. Scamander assures.

Queenie scoffs. "Oh, c'mon, Mr. Scamander, you can call me Queenie. Now, hup to it!"

Mena glances at Mr. Kowalski, whose eyes shine with obvious affection. He makes a move to instantly follow her voice, but pauses, and holds out an arm, politely offering Mena to go first. She obliges, giving Bernie a parting glance before making her way up the ladder.

Queenie tugs at her hand, helping her the rest of the way. She turns Mena's palm upward and pulls a necklace from her pocket, dropping it onto her lifelines. A breath of relief bursts from the woman's chest at the sight of it—her father's wedding ring. She quickly slips the chain around her neck and sweeps Queenie into a hug, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you."

"Of course, honey."

Mena looks around, taking in the silhouette of her city. She hums softly, finally feeling secure. She hasn't lived in New York her whole life, but somehow it's more home than anywhere else has ever been, besides the memories of a family long since fractured, leaving Mena and Bernie in its wake.

Her eyes snag on Mr. Scamander, who steps up on the ledge to survey the scene. A green creature sits on his shoulder, too far away for the Farley woman to decipher its shape. He's so... comfortable with beasts similar to Mena's. Her lips tug upward involuntarily and she quickly looks away, settling her gaze onto Queenie, who stares sweetly at the No-Maj.

"Your grandfather kept pigeons? Mine bred owls. I used to love feeding 'em."

Tina walks past, Bernie in tow—though he slows to a stop when he realizes her destination, next to Mr. Scamander. His feet scuff against the roof lightly, his face twitching. He glances over to Mena.