Chapter 468: God and the Tale of the Wizard
"They're waiting for you, Newt," the woman's voice said.
Newt stood up, face-to-face with Leta Lestrange. She was beautiful, a smile
playing on her lips. Newt quickly shoved his button and Pickett into his
pockets. He was extraordinarily young in this moment, his face lit with a raw,
bashful smile. Old Newt stared at them, lost in a trance, his eyes reflecting a
long-forgotten brilliance. Perched on his shoulder, the black cat watched the
pair without blinking.
"Leta... why are you here?" the young Newt asked.
"Theseus thought it would be good for me to join the Ministry of Magic family,"
Leta replied.
"Did he really say 'the Ministry of Magic family'?" Newt asked, feigning
nonchalance.
Leta let out a soft laugh. Then, with a silent understanding, they turned and
walked down the corridor. The atmosphere grew tense; it was clear a long and
complicated history lay between them.
"You never came to dinner. Theseus was quite disappointed. We invited you, but
you never showed up," Leta said.
"I... I've been busy," Newt replied.
"He's your brother, Newt. He wants to spend more time with you. And so do I,"
Leta said.
Newt noticed Pickett crawling onto his lapel, nudging open the breast pocket of
his coat. "You hop inside, Pick," Newt whispered to the Bowtruckle. Pickett
gratefully dived in.
"Why do all the strange creatures love you so much?" Leta smiled.
"Creatures aren't strange—" Newt said earnestly.
"—it's just that people have narrow minds," Newt and Leta said almost in unison.
They both broke into smiles.
"Do you remember how long you were kept in detention last time you said that to
Prendergast?" "Come to think of it, I believe it was a month." "I planted
dungbombs under his desk just so I could come keep you company, remember?"
As they spoke, the stern, ominous doors leading to the conference hall came into
view.
"I don't remember that," Newt said. These were his final words in the memory.
"She was my best friend. Perhaps I once..." Old Newt had completely lost control
of his emotions; he looked like a child, helpless and filled with sorrow.
"You once loved her," the black cat finished the sentence he couldn't bring
himself to speak.
"Perhaps..." Old Newt murmured, his expression full of nostalgia.
"Her mother died in childbirth, and her father didn't love her; her childhood
was anything but easy. I've seen her Boggart... it was a baby constantly sinking
in water. I later learned that her brother died accidentally because of her,
leaving her unable to escape a lifetime of guilt and self-loathing. She believed
in her heart that she had killed her brother, that she was an evil monster. But
despite all that, she remained a polite and considerate person. Well, because
neither of us was suited for school life, we—"
The black cat knew: that was how they had forged their profound friendship. A
friendship that led the Hufflepuff senior to willingly take the blame for Leta,
nearly getting expelled, and led Leta to her final, resolute sacrifice.
...The scene in the memory shifted once more.
It was a graveyard-like place where fifty Aurors stood outside the gates. Their
faces were etched with tension, even terror; several showed a clear, desperate
hunger for battle and revenge. Inside the cemetery, a white-haired wizard was
delivering a stirring speech, his voice possessing a peculiar magic that made
listeners helpless to resist agreeing.
"It is time to show you the future I have foreseen. If we do not rise up to
resist, to reclaim our rightful place, this is the consequence." He was just
about to continue when the memory twisted. The black cat turned to look at Newt;
it seemed the Hufflepuff senior didn't want him to witness what followed.
A few seconds later, the scene shattered, and the battle began. The white-haired
wizard directed the flames like a conductor leading an orchestra, the Elder Wand
serving as his baton. Tongues of fire struck down the Aurors who attempted to
Apparate or flee. Six or seven Aurors ran headlong, panic-stricken, straight
through the fire toward him.
The result, naturally, was death.
"Mr. Scamander, do you think Dumbledore will mourn for you?" the white-haired
wizard asked, addressing Newt and Theseus. He unleashed a massive torrent of
black flame; Theseus and Newt fought desperately to defend themselves. Just as
they were about to succumb, Leta appeared.
"Grindelwald! Stop!" she cried.
"I believe I know this person," Grindelwald paused. He walked through the flames
toward Leta. Theseus and Newt fought to reach her, desperate to be by her side,
but they were powerless.
"Leta Lestrange... shunned by all wizards, unloved, abused... yet brave. So very
brave. It is time to go home." He extended a hand to Leta.
Leta suddenly looked toward Theseus and Newt. "I love you."
After that, colors blurred in a chaotic dance. The black cat only knew that Leta
had released a spell causing skulls to explode, distracting Grindelwald, which
allowed Newt and Theseus to Apparate away.
"I hate Paris," the black cat heard Grindelwald say.
"Is that enough..." The black cat heard Old Newt's voice grow hoarse. He looked
at the cat with a gaze that was almost a prayer.
"I am sorry, Mr. Scamander." The black cat lowered its eyes.
They stood once more upon the white, barren ground.
"Bastet, this is war," Newt murmured. "Destroying everything, tearing everything
apart... what is the benefit of fighting the most terrifying wizard in the
world? It is to save innocent lives. To ensure fewer broken families, fewer
tears and sorrows—this is something that must be done, no matter the cost."
He fell silent, watching the black cat spin the black stone on its neck three
times, as if it were a child's toy.
"Follow me, Mr. Scamander." The black cat leaped from Newt's shoulder.
The Resurrection Stone was summoning Leta, but she seemed to be drifting from
too far away, or perhaps the connection between Sean and her was hindered by the
barrier of Newt's memory, so she didn't appear immediately. The black cat
thought that if it summoned Lady Helena, she would have arrived in an instant.
And so, the black cat could only lead Newt through the mist-filled Lands
Between, sensing that the presence he sought was drawing closer.
"Am I going to see her?" Newt, sensing the shift, grew restless.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" the black cat asked, bewildered.
"Dear Bastet... you don't understand. She... she makes my heart feel as though
it's bursting into fireworks. Stuttering, incoherent—all these are the costs of
being near her." Newt spoke like an old man telling a story. The only difference
between him and other wizards was that he believed he was confiding in a deity.
And perhaps, if a god truly understood a wizard's story, it could relieve the
wizard of his pain.
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