Work Text:
The magical underworld knows all about Theseus Scamander, of course. They’ve seen pictures of him in newspapers, heard stories about his extraordinary courage in battle, some of them have even met him – after all, the magical community is quite small. Theseus Scamander is the typical textbook hero, the one you tell your children about.
Newt Scamander, on the other hand, is a different matter altogether. He usually isn’t considered important enough to have newspaper articles published about him, and the stories that people tell about him aren’t often talked about. Very few have met him in person. But that isn’t the biggest difference to his big brother. No, the biggest difference lies in the stories that people do tell about him. It lies in the newspaper articles that report things such as “creature traffic busted – leader nowhere to be found”. It lies in the things everyone who has met him will say about him in hushed tones. Newt Scamander, the magical underworld generally agrees, is a force to be reckoned with.
He’s here tonight, sitting alone at a table in a poorly lit pub in London. Back home, it seems, from wherever his travels took him. Asia? Possibly. America? I heard he got himself into quite a bit of trouble there. Africa? Yes, he rescued a thunderbird. Australia? Next on his list. Better get word to Bill then, his dragon business won’t last much longer if Scamander has elected Australia as his next travel destination.
Not all the guests know who the man with the battered suitcase and the hunched shoulders is. Not all of them know that the avoidance of eye contact does not mean the man is helpless, that politeness is not a synonym for harmlessness.
Not all of them know that when Newt Scamander enters a pub in London that’s known for its shadiness, he usually has a reason.
A wizard who’s more than just tipsy stumbles over to Scamander and places a hand on his shoulder. Scamander flinches at the sudden contact and appears to be in the middle of – very politely, because he’s always, always polite – asking the man to remove his hand, when he seems to recognise the strange wizard’s face, and his eyes harden. Half the bar winces as they witness this – they have seen that look before, and it means trouble. They don’t want to keep watching, they know what happens next, and yet they can’t stop themselves from looking away.
Later they can’t remember if the wizard had been a local or a foreigner. None of them remember his name, and the bartender swears he’s never seen the man here before.
As a result, they also have no idea what the man has done to provoke Scamander’s attention. All they know is that after that initial recognition, Scamander has smiled nervously and not looked the man in the eye as he asked to meet him outside. All they know is that about an hour later, Scamander walks back into the pub, this time alone.
All they know from previous, similar experiences is that they most likely will not see the man again, and that if Scamander’s fond expression directed at the suitcase to his feet is anything to go by, he has gained a – or several – new creature(s).
Scamander eventually finishes his drink, gives the bartender a generous tip, apologises twice when he accidentally bumps into a ginger witch on his way out, and then the door falls shut and he’s gone. The remaining guests collectively breath out a sigh of relief.
How long until he will return? Hard to tell. Not much of a pub goer, that bloke. Should probably tell the guys to stay away for a while, just in case. Nobody can stop Scamander from doing what he intends to do, but he might bloody well do it someplace else. The American Ministry didn’t take him seriously? Tried to take away his creatures, even? Fools.
They drink, they joke about Newt Scamander’s infamous wrath, and then they drink some more until they can pretend that today was just a normal evening. In a way, it was.
The magical underworld knows all about Theseus Scamander, and, truth be told, they don’t care all that much. In the end, it’s not the older Scamander brother who makes them shiver in fear.