Scamandore, School
“Newt. I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
Newt was midway through rolling up a scroll that he’d picked up from the floor when professor Dumbledore spoke to him. The class had finished just moments ago and yet the space was already empty of anyone but the two of them. The only other sound in the room was the soft clacking of a small Newton’s Cradle that sat on a desk in the corner. Newt used to love these quiet and slow-moving minutes after an early morning class. He looked at Dumbledore with a soft smile on his face.
“Yes, professor.”
Dumbledore was leaned back on his desk with his arms folded over his chest. He looked unbothered and casual (as usual). Though he didn’t often wear them, his spectacles were sitting on his nose and he considered Newt’s briefcase for a moment with a curious smirk on his face before looking back to Newt. He was handsome, perhaps a more handsome man than Newt had ever seen. It was almost compulsory for Newt to turn away and look at a stained spot on the wooden floor instead.
“Thank you for visiting me today. The students appreciated you introducing them to...”
“Nelly,” Newt said.
“Nelly,” Dumbledore parroted easily. “And...”
“Gidget.”
“Nelly and Gidget,” Dumbledore laughed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Nifflers let alone held them and let them run around my classroom. I’ve got a terrible habit of hoarding valuables myself. To a degree, I feel connected to these little creatures.”
Newt never knew what to think when Dumbledore said things like this. It was as if there was a small box of quotes and quirks which he compiled into his list of a perfect human and somehow for years, his old professor had been ticking away at the boxes. There were small fragments of compassion that managed to work their way into every conversation, but it was as if Newt had never learned to cope with his bodies’ responses to it. He found himself staring down at his shoes again by the time Dumbledore began to speak again. Up, down, up, down - one day he was going to learn to look people in the eye.
“Well, they’re quite intelligent. I understand why you like them.”
The truth was that Newt could’ve waxed poetic about Gidget and Nelly for hours and Dumbledore wouldn’t have stopped him. He was always encouraging him to do it. All of the years they’d spent together in school with Newt sharing his small discoveries and Dumbledore just sitting back and listening to it politely with fascination on his face. Or their short run-ins between classes when Newt would ask if Dumbledore had seen any interesting critters around campus. There was a history behind Dumbledore humoring Newt’s interests and it had bought Newt back here, standing in an empty classroom with the man discussing the Nifflers in the case. Now, Newt didn’t have much energy to sustain it. He spoke clearly and efficiently.
“They are intelligent creatures, though on occasion that can be upset by their motives. You know that they spend their entire lives driven by their desire to seek treasure,” Newt said quietly. He’d leaned down and latched onto the handle of his suitcase. It was deceptively light in his grip when he lifted it.
“It is no surprise, then, that they are so attracted to your company.”
There was little to say in response to that. Newt looked at Dumbledore for just a second and tried to think up words: maybe a small thanks, a question, a statement in return about how Dumbledore was a treasure too, a confirmation about what he’d heard because not so many people would have called Newt anything other than dull and overwhelming. And yet in the moments between locking eyes with the man and trying to retaliate, Newt lost focus and stumbled backwards. Emotions were never his strong suit and as it was, he was feeling awkward by even the implication that his time was valuable enough to be relevant. He was utterly lost.
“Don’t panic, Newt,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I only mean to say that you are lovely company. I’ve never once thought badly on my time with you.”
“Though I only speak about animals,” Newt reminded him.
“There is nothing wrong with speaking about the things you love,” Dumbledore reminded him. “I expect nothing less of the time we’re together.”
In that moment, Newt recalled something odd. It was the first time he’d ever walked into the Great Hall. As clear as day he remembered the false sky of a ceiling and how every time they walked into the room the enchantment had changed. The clouds were overcast, the moon was out, the stars were clear and visible. It was as if the cosmos themselves were suddenly within arms reach. Standing here in front of Dumbledore with his suitcase in his hand and listening to the man speak to him this way was like that; magic that bought him closer to the things he thought he’d never be able to reach.
“I didn’t…” Newt started. “I couldn’t... I mean to say that I want to... speak more with you about them."
“Then we seem to be a perfect fit,” Dumbledore breathed out. He stood up off of his desk and closed a bit of the space between the two of them, sticking his hands in the pocket of his suit bottoms. “Would you come and visit me again if I asked?”
It was almost as natural as breathing, accepting invitation after invitation to chat about the things he loved with the person he loved. There was barely any space between the question and the answer. Still, it fell from Newt’s lips like water. Newt looked at Dumbledore fully, careful not to shy away from the startling blue that confronted him this time, and said as clearl as day, “Yes. Always.”
