INDISCRIMINATE

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Video Game: Draco gives Harry his wand

~

It was absolutely not the first time Newt had been hurt or even imprisoned thanks to his line of work, and desperation to do right by creatures. It was however, admittedly one of the worst. The pain had become so constant and so intense that he had ceased to be able to properly catalogue his own injuries, and could only hope to gauge how bad off he was by how disoriented he felt.

That happened to be very, unfortunately, meaning that Grindelwald was correct in stating he wouldn’t be able to apparate on his own. “Th-the Runespoor. You have her?” He asked, concern and alarm for the poor creature bleeding into his voice. He rather doubted she was truly safe, and instead suspected she was essentially a hostage, but sadly- with the state she’d been in, it was rather critical to tend her immediately, or she might not be able to return to the wild. 

“F-fine- fine but- you must let me see her.” He really didn’t have a choice- leave with Grindelwald, and possibly help the Runespoor, or remain trapped here. Better the devil he didn’t know, in this case.

“Well I’m hardly about to leave her with these brutes,” Gellert could not contain the growl that slipped past him - frustration with the man’s infernal hesitance combined with his genuine fury over what had been done to that poor creature not doing particularly well for his sense of patience. Nevertheless he abstained from making his true irritation known, as it was hardly conducive to getting Scamander out of here before someone noticed. 

Thankfully, the man was sensible enough to acquiesce after only a few more moments of dithering nonsense that Gellert managed to assuage only by reminding himself forcefully that just grabbing the infernal fool would not be altogether endearing later on. So he let those precious moments waste away, dragging them ever closer to discovery, under the slim hope the man would shut up soon and accept transfer - and though it was perhaps only two, maybe three minutes, it certainly seemed to stretch on like an eternity. 

No sooner did the man finally accept his outstretched arm, did Gellert pull them hard and fast from the scene, to a nearby location where he was able to pull them even farther - taking them well clear of any authority that might even think to be looking for the man. It was a considerable distance, and Gellert would have preferred to absorb more of the travel - but as it was, he hadn’t been willing to wait for Scamander to deliberate the merits of hanging off him when both the man and the runespoor were in too dire of condition to be dawdling. 

@severelysnapped | liked for a starter.

Severus whipped around the corner, pressing his back against the wall of the Ancient Studies classroom. The smell of incense hit his nose, and helped him to relax somewhat as he peered around the corner into the hall, thinking himself alone. He couldn’t even look at Black- not after what had happened less than forty-eight hours ago. Not after the other boy had happily sent Severus towards his death. He was over an hour early for class, and hoped the professor wouldn’t mind if he simply lingered in the room until it was time to begin- for it was one of the few places he felt most at home and at ease. 

Like many others of his house, he’d made every effort to get it on his schedule once the rumours had begun to spread, however once the true views of their professor were revealed, many of the others had dropped out, leaving only a manageable handful of students to inhabit the room. 

Severus was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a throat being cleared, jumping and turning to face the tall, imposing figure of Salazar Slytherin. 

“Professor,” he choked out- realizing too late that he ought to have better control of the way his voice trembled. “I- hope it’s not too much trouble that I’m early.”

Salazar glanced up sharply when the door to his classroom tore open - it was some time before he expected any intrusions, and frankly the swiftness of it all spoke of an urgency that immediately set him on edge. He said nothing for the moment, recognizing young Severus immediately and attempting to gauge the source of his distress. 

Judging from the furtiveness, he could only presume it was the Gryffindor quartet so very keen on tormenting the boy. Thinning his lips, Salazar rose to his feet and stepped closer, making his presence known with a small sound - but one that would catch the attention of someone as high strung as his student presently was rather swiftly. 

{ Hurt Meme } 

It was at times like this that Theseus wondered how well Newt knew him at all. It seemed as though his brother had a particular idea in his mind about who he was and what he represented, but had made no effort to learn more or even attempt to understand why he had such thoughts when evidence to the contrary appeared so frequently. 

Perhaps if Theseus were some misunderstood creature, his brother might have put forth some actual effort into understanding him, or at least trying to. As it was, he found himself yet again faced with bristling contempt when he had done little more than offer assistance from the only quarters that he could. It could be bitterly frustrating, dealing with this sort of deliberate disregard, but he supposed there was nothing for it now. Regardless of his feelings, Newt had set his mind up on him, and would not be budged from it - so there was no point in arguing the matter. 

“If it pleases you,” There were other ways to approach this beyond the genuine, if that was what Newt preferred. “How’s this then - Grimmson will not hesitate to kill that boy. It is, after all, the ministry’s decree. As far as I see it, the only chance Credence has of surviving this manhunt is if you find him first. I can convince Travers to grant you one final opportunity to agree - you don’t have to stay with the office forever, for God’s sake.” His frustration had bled through after all, and war-time habit had not yet broken clear of him as he fell automatically to the Muggle phrasing as opposed to Merlin. “Think about this from a strategical standpoint Newt - for his sake, if not your own.”  

@severelysnapped​ | Gellert Grindelwald | cont.

Newt dozed a while longer, unconscious of the way he shifted under the coat to soak up the warmth that lingered from the other man, and blissfully unaware of the fact he’d even fallen asleep, much less the presence of another near him. It was nearly twenty minutes later that he finally blearily lifted his head, blinking at his surroundings, noticing that it had gotten much darker since he’d sat down. Odd― he should have been much colder by this time in the evening, having slept against cold stone… It was then he noticed that another coat had been placed atop his own, and blinked, before thinking to look around for its owner. 

Green eyes widened in shock and alarm as he saw who it was that had taken notice of him standing nearby, and for a moment he felt breath and words both leave him. Perhaps that was a good thing, though, because he noticed several things in the time it took for his voice and lungs to begin working again.

For one, the man had made no move to attack him, and for another, chances were he’d simply been standing there this whole time, without a coat. That didn’t make much sense to Newt, and while it was easy to chalk it up to ‘humanish nonsense’, it also struck a curious note, as it reminded him of waiting at a slumbering creature’s side to earn its trust. 

“What are you doing here?” He croaked, voice too thick with sleep and exhaustion to carry any real malice.

With no agenda to attend to, Gellert had little issue standing at quiet attention off to the side. It was something second nature to him, to stand rooted somewhere and simply observe the world as it moved around him - and in this instance it had the benefit of placing him in a position of defense over someone who would surely not expect it. There was value in the power of a single voice - of that there could be no doubt - and the voice Scamander carried bore weight for others in a way that was quietly appealing. Better then, to have him as an ally than to mark him as an enemy. 

{ Oh No, You’re Hot Meme | Absolutely Accepting } 

After nearly a year of correspondence, Theseus found himself strangely nervous about meeting Percival Graves for the first time - it was one thing to hear his voice on paper, to get an idea of his personality through written word - but it was a whole other to have to shake his hand and accept that this was a man who knew more about him than anyone in his family by this point. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love them, it was merely that they did not understand, nor did he have any wish to explain - or have them learn. It was better, that they not know. It was easier to talk to those who did - and it was easier still when he didn’t have to look those men in the eyes when he did so. 

He hadn’t known what to expect of this meeting admittedly - but to say Percival’s first words took him completely by surprise would be as much of an understatement as to say ‘war is bad’. For a split second, he stared - utterly struck - before he broke into a grin that felt almost strange on a face that had buried smiles in the same pits he’d lost men in. 

“I could say the same to you, but then I’d just sound like a parrot and it wouldn’t have the same impact,” He quipped, somehow more at ease in the wake of what could have been an utterly awkward situation than he had been in all the serious waiting he’d been brooding through. 

Stepping over, he opted to forego the handshake and other nervous greetings he had considered, and simply clapped the man on the shoulder with all the familiarity they had forged in ink. It truly was good to finally meet the man behind the words. “How about those drinks,” He suggested, having a feeling Percival could use one just as much as he after blurting that out. 

{ Profound & Emotional Starters }

Looking over at him only after she had made perfectly certain the baby nifflers were secured, Helen tried to gauge his tone and mood with the announcement. He didn’t seem particularly put out, which was - unusual. He’d been a bit strange ever since the incident with Georgie, but she had a feeling that might have to do with him coming to realize that despite who sent her, she was here for the animals every bit as much as he was.

Smiling, she chose to interpret matters that way rather than assume the worst, and went to go mix up the medicinal pellets for the sick mooncalf they had in a nearby stall. “I think I did too, honestly,” She had been so excited to meet someone so deeply dedicated to educating their fellow witches and wizards on the importance of protecting magical animals, that admittedly Helen had anticipated a kindred spirit. While their love for animals was certainly equal however, it became clear very quickly that she and Mister Scamander were cut of very different cloths. 

“But you know, it’s okay to have things be different from what we expected them to be,” Grinding up some particularly chubby mealworms as she spoke, Helen glanced at the pulpy mixture in the bowl to make sure it was the right texture for adding them before continuing, “I think they turned out quite nicely, all things told.” Here, she glanced in his direction, genuinely curious if he would reflect the same sentiment or not.  

{ Oh No, You’re Hot Meme | Absolutely Accepting }

Crap! Realizing he had been overheard, Harry recovered quickly with raised brows, as though he couldn’t fathom having said something wrong. “I said - your hat. As in - my hat - I just realized it’s missing. Must have blown off on the street without me noticing til I went to take it off. I imagine my hair’s a disaster now.” 

Offering an easy smile, Harry shifted gears quickly before his bluff could be called ( though why it might be, he didn’t want to think on. ) “Sorry for the interruption, Mister Graves. I’m Harry - er - Harold Evans, the England transfer? I was told I was to meet with you today, which I believe has to do with my assignment.” 

Withdrawing the written order, he handed it over to the director, “I think there might be a misprint though - surely this means I’m to get my assignment from you?” Why would his assignment be the Director? Harry highly doubted it was a mistake - but it did beg the question of what the hell was going on at MACUSA.

“Tina!” Florence waited until her friend had noticed her before stepping in and closing the distance between them, drawing the woman up into her embrace. “Welcome back!” 

She and Kay had made it back from France three days prior - they had other parties managing the strangeness afoot, and neither one of them was quite prepared to place their present positions in jeopardy by being away from the office too long, even if they had managed to get themselves assigned the overseas case. 

“How are you holding up?” There was no point in concealing matters - Florence had a feeling few at MACUSA would be particularly sympathetic to Tina’s loss, and her friend deserved to know that there were people in her corner still, who would do whatever it took to help her restore the balance that had shifted so unfortunately. That was why she had made absolutely sure to be here on time, so that someone would be present to welcome the poor woman back to New York. 

{ Non-Sexual Acts Of Dominance }

Kay smiled patiently as slender fingers stayed him, making quick work of the unsatisfactory knot at his throat without pause or hesitation. His brow quirked upwards ever so slightly as Tina concluded her efforts, and wondered vaguely if his wife would notice he was in a more put together state after a raid than he was going into it. 

As she stepped away, he couldn’t help but tease her for the familiarity - she was too good at playing it off like she hadn’t noticed, and while he had no desire for her to be self-conscious of it, Kay knew his wife would never forgive him for passing up a golden opportunity to let Tina know it was acceptable. 

“Do I pass inspection now, boss?” Striding up alongside her, Kay resisted the urge to chuckle as he caught her arm in his in order to escort her to their secondary location like a proper gentleman. It was the least he could do in exchange for her assistance with his appearance after all. “Nervous?” He mused, deliberately not looking at her as he attempted to gauge just what had prompted the sudden invasion of his space. 

~

Newt stood, not quite cowering, but certainly defensively, just as if he were facing down a creature. This one was hurt, and enraged, and that made him dangerous in the moment, but Newt knew Gellert was a gentle soul, he knew this anger did not suit him. He flinched at the sound of the tree splitting behind him, more a reaction to loud noise than any fear of Gellert, but when the man himself didn’t move, Newt took a tentative half a step forward.

“This is not your fault,” Newt repeated, his voice clear and strong despite his submissive posture. “If not falsely under yours, they’d find another name to stand behind. Their hate did this, not your name- but taking your hate to them won’t fix it.” His eyes flicked up, not quite meeting Gellert’s, but enough to take in his face, and the tightly controlled rage on it. “Killing the people that did this won’t bring them back.” He hesitated, then took a chance- he was fairly confident Gellert would not hurt him, even by accident, and that was a testament to the man’s control and power of will.

“They did this- not you. And killing  them for it will just make you more of the monster they say you are. And I know there’s a better way.” Again his eyes came up, took in Gellert’s face. “We can- we can still stop them, but we can do that without- without this.” Without spilling more blood all over your name.

Fists clenched reflexively as Newt shifted toward him, however tentatively. The assurance was galling in the face of so much senseless violence, all of which would fall under his name - the fault for which he was made to carry each and every time someone saw fit to use his name to suit their own agenda. Whether Newt agreed or not - the fact remained that his manifesto had incited this, had granted a coward the courage necessary to be cruel.  

Perhaps the man was right, however, in thinking such hatred would find its way out one way or another. Had not Calliope made a similar remark before? Was that not so often the debate she fell upon when frustration built like blocks of poison inside of his soul, seeping ever deeper into his core? If they both could see it this way - then perhaps it was he who was wrong, in his stubborn refusal to accept that hate could come so easily, that it festered so deeply, all it needed was a scapegoat of any shape or form to unleash itself.

Yielding to this felt like a defeat - it felt like accepting this as something that just was - and he hated how helpless it left him. Newt sounded so much like Calliope that it was impossible not to heed his words - his promises for a better way, as if that wasn’t all Gellert wanted! He didn’t understand why it was so fucking difficult for these people to comprehend the importance of coexistence. 

All it would take was one failure in the Wild Lands and there would be nothing - absolutely nothing - in place to protect the wizarding communities who relied too heavily on magic to win the fight, or to shield the mundane communities who were ill prepared for more violence so shortly after such a devastating war they had declared it the War to End All Wars. It weighed too heavily to be ignored - yet he knew that there was truth in Newt’s words. 

Killing the killers would not return life to those who had already been killed. It would only mean more dead, more blood staining his name, more failure in his wake. Sighing deeply, Gellert let go of his tight hold on the power within - letting it surge from him safely rather than permitting it to build any further. 

Meeting Newt’s eyes, he ignored the way the snow rippled around them as the magic gathered returned itself to the earth, and focused instead on the most pertinent element left between them. “What is your intention - to capture them, to bring them in to MACUSA or your own Ministry?” Blue eyes narrowed coldly, “Surely you realize a quick death would be kinder than what awaits them in those cells.” 

He was still angry - he still wanted those responsible for this to suffer for what they had done - but he also believed the punishment should befit the crime. Death for death was logical. Torture for countless months, until minds lay broken and answers spilled like blood on the tables, was hardly so. Yet in this he knew his own judgement could not be trusted - not when it was so close to home, and so damaging to his spirit. If he could not trust his own lead, then he would need to follow the direction of another until he could. Without Calliope it seemed there would be no controlling him - but it seemed she had left some part of herself behind, in order to echo inside this man’s words. 

{ Worth Starters } 

It was bad enough that he had simply disappeared, gallivanting off to France with nothing more than a note - the only decent element of which being the mention he had taken the nifflers with him, sparing her at least that heart-stopper when she’d arrived at the usual time to find none of the usual routines at work. Bad enough that she had tried to cover for him as long as she could at the Ministry before it became known he had completely flouted his travel ban! 

She had been perfectly prepared to give him a piece of her mind when he finally showed up again, but now he had to go and preemptively subvert her anger by offering her the one thing she had never anticipated - men never apologized for putting people out of sorts, they just expected their messes to be cleaned up for them without ever once looking back. Of course he would just have to be the exception to the rules as ever! 

And the look of him! She’d never seen him so upset - at least not without a wounded animal in his arms to cause it! What on Earth happened to him in France? 

“Its not me you owe any apologies to, Mister Scamander,” Helen assured quietly, stepping closer to him to see if perhaps he might need some assistance with his coat. “You look like you could use a moment. Why don’t you take a seat - I’ll make some tea, and fill you in on what you missed, alright?”

{ Lap Party } 

“Oh - whoops!” Helen laughed, shifting quickly so that she could support Tina as the other woman settled herself back a little too quickly and ended up in her lap. Perhaps her own actions were too practiced as she gently and deftly plucked her friend’s champagne glass from her fingers and set it just out of reach, her arms settling securely around the tipsy auror with the same firm yet gentle grip she might have used on a rowdy mooncalf.  

“You’re certainly enjoying yourself tonight!” It wasn’t an admonishment - if anything, Helen was relieved to see Tina having a good time, even if it did require a little more champagne than strictly wise to get there. Before Tina could fall into melancholy again, Helen shifted, rising to her feet and bringing her friend with her, taking Tina’s hands in hers with a grin. “Come on - we didn’t come here to let everyone else have all the fun!” 

With that sole warning, Helen dragged Tina out to the dance floor, fully intent on keeping her entertained well into the night if she could manage it!

~

If Harry hadn’t been so cocky and stupid, Cedric wouldn’t have been hurt. He wouldn’t have been in that graveyard, wouldn’t have come close to facing the danger he did. Now, the older boy, who had been plenty decent to Harry when the whole school had been pretty dead-set against his existence, and now he was stuck in the hospital wing, and while no one would tell Harry anything, he’d overheard enough to know that a full recovery just wasn’t possible. If he had just been smarter, or faster, or better, then he would have been alone in the graveyard like Voldemort had planned, and things would be… well, maybe not totally fine, but much, much better than they were.

No one had directly shooed him off, for which he was grateful, but he assumed that was at least due largely to the fact that any time Cedric’s parents came around he made himself scarce- he couldn’t face Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, not knowing that they’d surely see the fault for their son’s condition clearly lay with him. He also managed not to be around when the older boy was awake, for the most part, until recently when Cedric was awake more than he was asleep. Most of the time they were just quiet, aside from Harry’s awkward attempts to ensure Cedric had everything he needed ( which he did, of course, since the adults were all around to take proper care of him ).

Harry cast his eyes down at the retort to his question- Ron and Hermione were around him basically whenever he wasn’t with Cedric, but he was a little glad he seemed to be flying under the radar of most of the adults- he wasn’t really feeling up to being interrogated about what ‘really’ happened. He kept them fixed on the text book he hadn’t read a word of as Cedric continued, knowing that everyone had thought Harry’d put his name in, that he was reaching for attention and glory and whatever other nonsense made people sign up for crazy death tournaments — and then Cedric made a joke, and Harry’s eyes snapped up with surprise. 

“Huh?” That was not eloquent at all, but before Harry could really try again, a short, slightly hysterical giggle left him. “No- it definitely isn’t,” he said once he’d recovered, smiling a little. “Careful- sooner or later you’ll never have a moment’s peace. Probably right when you get out the door, honestly.”

Cedric had tasted fame in the wake of his name being drawn from the Goblet of Fire. He had thought for a time that the confirmation of his own abilities was enough - but it was not long before he realized the cost of his own insecurities, and found himself genuinely pitted up against challenges that could very well take his life while spectators cheered in the background. 

Complacency had fled him the day Harry informed him they would be facing dragons in the beginning - yet even with all his time to prepare, there was no accounting for a wild magical creature intent on protecting its sole remaining offspring. The burns that had lanced him that day had served as a constant reminder of how dangerous this tournament truly was - and he began to doubt, well and truly, that Potter had managed to get his name in the Goblet on his own. 

It was then that he began to suspect that his fellow competitor was in even greater danger than the rest of them, though he could not rightly say why he felt that way - maybe it was just precedent. Potter seemed to be near to death every year, but never had it been so closely observed as it was now. Yet there was little time to look into it - in truth, Cedric had become obsessed with ensuring his own survival - it was no longer a matter of treating the tournament as a game, and the more that he was interviewed, the more that he realized the tournament was still very much seen as just a game, the more he began to sympathize with Potter and the scrutiny he faced when simply trying to get through his lessons. 

He didn’t want to think of what it would be like when he left the relative safety of his hospital bed. The flashes of the photography bulbs had been too much for his senses before the third task had landed him in a graveyard with the He Who Must Not Be Named himself - the interrogations that awaited were terrifying to consider. He no more wanted this than he suspected Harry wanted any of his fame - and considering where his came from - well, Cedric felt more empathetic than he had before, to say the least. 

“I don’t suppose you know any secret halls out of this place?” He suggested weakly, offering a slight smile. He knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable forever, but damned if he couldn’t try. “I know a couple secret passages between here and the common room - it’s just getting past the initial barrage that I’m worried about.” Though his tone was light, the fact of the matter was Cedric really didn’t want to deal with the questions, because he remembered so very little - and none of what he had was particularly useful, really. 

~

“The only thing they hunt is small bugs, but they do have a rather nasty bite for humans- and considering your physiological difference and how you reacted to the Murtlap bite, I suspect your reaction would be more intense to the Tentacula as well.” Newt said all this without turning around, hastily scribbling a few notes to himself to label which plants were safe to approach and which weren’t. Herbology was not his strongest suit, but he kept a number of magical and mundane plants around for their various uses, and now that Jacob was with him, he needed to make sure the muggle man wouldn’t accidentally harm or poison himself. Perhaps he’d pick up a guidebook next time they stopped near a wizarding community. 

“Most of the animals know instinctively to avoid magical plants that could be harmful anyway, and I don’t keep any of the truly predatory ones in here- Devil’s Snare would probably have swallowed me whole by now if I’d tried!”

It seemed like a pretty big mouth to be hunting small bugs exclusively, but who was he to judge? Newt was the expert in these matters, though it was a bit galling to have even fundamental understandings of science challenged at a base level. “I’ll keep that in mind,” He still hadn’t forgotten the fact that a bad reaction to a Murtlap bite meant fire coming out of his anus, and frankly he wasn’t about to ask Newt how literal that was meant to be - he really didn’t want to know. 

It was kind of wild to think of “truly predatory” plants, but Jacob was relieved to know none of his buddies would be getting on the wrong side of the - tentacula - back there. “Devil’s Snare - sounds fun,” There was just a slight hint of sarcasm there, but with a name like that Jacob couldn’t help but recall the Swooping Evil. If even Newt felt that Devil’s Snare was bad news, it was one plant he really didn’t want to meet.