Chapter 469: Leta Lestrange
"Do you think death truly separates us, my dear Bastet?"
Newt trekked through the thin mist, passing through forests, across fields, and
along the lakeside. Cold, translucent, shimmering specks of light drifted
through the white expanse. It had begun to snow in the Lands Between.
The black cat, moving with lithe grace in the lead, paused. It turned around and
leaped onto Newt's shoulder. The path ahead was now clear. They only needed to
follow the winding trail forward; the cottage surrounded by Gabriel flowers
would be their final destination.
"Do those we love truly leave us? Or is it that when we are faced with a choice,
we recall them with such vivid clarity?" Newt loved to speak with the black cat,
and not just because of the lingering tension and embarrassment of his
situation.
"Perhaps the opposite is true. Death can draw a wizard's distance closer...
especially for those who were parted in life," the black cat replied, its
whiskers twitching.
Newt offered a shy smile. Bastet reminded him of a student reciting an answer,
yet he felt an irrepressible sense of satisfaction. Bastet, who governed dreams
and traversed the boundaries of life and death, was willing to understand the
emotions of a wizard—there was nothing more worth looking forward to than that.
"We are here, Mr. Scamander." The black cat's emerald eyes possessed the ability
to pierce the mist, and it spoke quietly amidst the swirling, hazy colors.
"Ah..." Newt hurried to look ahead. In the vast white expanse, a cottage with
smoke curling from its chimney appeared abruptly. It stood on the edge of a
soft, sprawling coastline, with a dense, flourishing field of Gabriel flowers
blanketing the entire embankment. The cabin sat in the center of these flowers,
nestled in the embrace of layer upon layer of creamy yellow petals.
A crisp, refreshing scent of grass and wood drifted into the black cat's nose,
while Newt stood there, momentarily dazed. Leta seemed to have just returned
from a long journey; the black cat could sense she had only just stepped back
into this cottage.
Before the door, Newt gingerly skirted around the soft flowers, his hand
reaching out to knock, then retreating. The black cat perched on his shoulder,
watching him repeat this tiny, nervous process again and again.
"Timid Mr. Scamander, you'd even let happiness get hurt just by approaching
it..." the black cat whispered.
"My apologies, dear Bastet. Please, stop urging a mortal heart," Newt replied
bashfully.
The black cat, feeling awkward, jumped off Newt's shoulder. Now, the timid Mr.
Scamander seemed even more tense. The cat studied the small door on the wooden
frame, realizing it was meant for him, yet Newt remained frozen.
"Is there any time more worth feeling happy than when you are on the verge of
happiness?" The black cat understood the sentiment, but their time was not
infinite. Guiding a soul into the Lands Between was exhausting, to say nothing
of the effort required to manifest the Pensieve and the Resurrection Stone.
"I am forced to urge you on, Mr. Scamander," the black cat said.
As it rested on a patch of rising mist, it accidentally discovered a tiny hole
in the wooden door. Within that hole, a pair of bright, mischievous eyes peered
back.
"I understand." Newt, as if gathering all his courage, knocked three times.
The door creaked open. Newt was instantly struck dumb by the face smiling back
at him, radiant as a blooming flower.
"The legends of the Lands Between are true—the Lucky Black Cat is knocking at
the door." Leta naturally scooped up the black cat from the mist-patch in front
of Newt, just as they had done in the past. "I never expected that even after
death, you would still be welcomed by magical creatures."
"Please put me down," the black cat struggled.
"My apologies." Leta was startled, quickly letting the cat retreat back to
Newt's shoulder.
"Leta..." Old Newt simply repeated the name. The friend standing before him was
identical to the photograph tucked inside his suitcase.
"No, you're not dead—" Leta suddenly widened her eyes. "Is... is it you?" She
turned to the black cat.
The cat sat elegantly on Newt's shoulder and nodded in a distinctly human
fashion. "Yes, dear Bastet has brought me here." Newt smiled shyly.
"How is this possible..." Leta lost her voice. Crossing the boundary between
life and death to allow a living wizard to converse with a soul in the Lands
Between—no such story had existed for dozens of centuries. As she stood silent,
snow fell softly. It fell onto the Gabriel petals, onto the warm smoke of the
cottage, and onto the hair of the reunited pair.
Leta suddenly realized the impropriety of her actions. They were likely facing a
magical creature of unimaginable power. Bastet, who ruled over war and the
home—were the ancient legends of wizards all true?
"You..." Leta pulled Newt behind her, her gaze burning as she stared at the
black cat that had hopped down from Newt's shoulder. She didn't believe in luck;
she had left the small door only as a favor to her friend. A wizard like her—one
who had never been treated kindly by fate—felt that everything in the world had
a price. She was a monster, a freak in everyone's eyes; only monsters could rely
on one another, just as she and Newt did. No, Newt was worthier of being loved
than she was... only her sins were unforgivable.
"What did you pay?" Leta asked Newt in a low, veiled tone.
"I am ashamed to say, I paid nothing." Newt knew Leta too well; he knew what she
was worried about.
"A cat that asks for no return?" Leta was utterly astonished.
"Dear Bastet is exactly that," Newt replied bashfully.
Leta believed Newt, and she believed the cat. She realized, inevitably, that
they had truly reunited. Through the magic of a black cat, they had met again.
Only then did she allow a vague, moving emotion to surface. She looked at Newt's
aged face, then lowered her head.
"Please, come inside." She said to the black cat.
"Thank you for the invitation." The black cat stepped inside. Leta felt that
this was a very polite cat.
The carpet inside reflected the firelight from the hearth. In the distant sky, a
faint rosy glow emerged. Outside the window lay the boundless ocean of the Lands
Between, and inside was the crackling fire, the foaming butterbeer, and Newt's
face, smiling softly while unable to meet her eyes directly.
The entire Lands Between was snowing. The snow fell on every inch of the gloomy
central plains, on the treeless hills, and softly onto the lakeside marshes.
They listened to the snow drifting悠悠 (slowly and leisurely) between heaven and
earth, drifting down onto the living and the dead of the Lands Between, just as
their current sanctuary had.
"I never imagined luck could be so kind," Leta said.
"But it always comes eventually," Newt smiled.
The Lands Between had three fundamental directions: Soul, Mist, and Eternity.
Here, the distance between two hearts was at its closest.
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