Imagine that Newt Scamander somehow finds about all the things Harry and his friend’s could have been expelled for but didn’t and he got kick off just because he let an animal on the lose.

I bet he would be so angry!

Newt Protection Squad Roundup:

Jacob Kowalski who is head because he shepherds everyone else into line like a pastry-bearing mother hen, and because the back rooms of his bakery smell like hopes and dreams and have giant cushions strewn haphazardly about around a small wooden table. The table has a cheery yellow-gingham table cloth and an enamel jug full of flowers in the middle, and the flowers have tiny little snidgets sleeping among them. The table also has chairs, old pine-wood chairs with smooth edges and worn seats, but for some reason everyone congregates on the cushions on the floor. There’s a stove in the corner with a copper whistling kettle because Newt must have tea, and there’s a bookcase overflowing with scrawled recipe ideas and half-finished plans (and, tucked away in the top-right corner, a page filled with doodles of a house with a nursery and a garden strewn with toys. Jacob thinks Queenie doesn’t know it’s there, but Queenie knows and it makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.)

Queenie Goldstein who runs this shit like a motherfuckin’ amazon warrior, just one that wears pink and smiles when she talks and calls people ‘honey’ as if she couldn’t eat them alive for breakfast. She’s the one who brings the newest threat to the table, most of the time, and she’s the one that gets things done. Even if they’re not particularly legal things, like snooping through records that were confidential, Queenie, what the hell or just so happens to know a person who knows a person who can sneak them round the back to disable Grindelwald’s latest plot despite the fact that those are dark wizards Queenie you can’t go around calling them sweetie and patting them on the cheek and basically, yeah. Jacob calls the shots and Queenie makes them happen, and if it comes down to wands then Queenie listens to Jacob and she fires spells at people she can’t see and ducks curses that Jacob spots and it’s all pretty damn badass. She gets a reputation for having eyes on the back of her head and being friggin impossible to sneak up on, and Queenie just laughs when people scurry away from her in fear.

Tina Goldstein who is the oft-ignored voice of reason and, sometimes, morality. It’s not that she disagrees with Queenie’s results, but really, those records were confidential, and that’s a necromancer that Queenie just waved at, and Tina feels that at least one of them should pretend to follow the laws. On the other hand, Tina is also the practicality and the dedication, the one that knuckles down and works through and gets things like trip-wards put up so they don’t always have to hare in at the last minute. And, when it comes to it, she holds the field and she fires the spells and she tells Jacob where to tell Queenie to go and she’s basically the captain with the battleplans and she gets everyone out and alive. Including whichever improbably creature Newt’s got attached to now, because he’ll be sad otherwise.

Credence Barebone who is the loyal bodyguard, lurking in the shadows like a vengeful demon just waiting to devour people whole. Or for Newt to beckon him forwards to show him a thing, at which point Credence will materialise out of the ether like the over-dramatic little shit that he actually is underneath all that angst, and will obligingly coo over whatever acid-spitting little hellspawn Newt’s found next. It’s not exactly Credence’s fault that most of Newt’s animals are shit-terrified of him and that half of them react to that with teeth, poison barbs, eardrum-splitting shrieks or bubbling gouts of sulphuric hellfire. Newt is determined to find at least one that likes Credence, and if it makes Newt happy then Credence will doggedly keep trying.

Pickett who yodels battle cries at super-sonic pitches and knows forty eight different kinds of karate, just because. You might think he’s small and therefore not scary, but have you ever had a demented twig flying at your face? It’s a surprisingly effective deterrent. Grindelwald, for one, is traumatised.

Seraphina Picquery who sits in her office and thinks fondly of the times before Newt came to New York and random armies of giantass tortoises and crazy fish started attacking her city, but also manages to smooth things over each time so that somehow the no-majs never catch on and somehow the international magical community aren’t banging on their shores with a cease and desist.

… and Percival Graves, what, I love him and I can’t just leave him out. I can’t. I can’t even promise that there won’t be a Gramander subplot going on because one day I might not be paying attention and it might just happen oh no the horror. But seriously tho, all other parts of this fic are gen/eventual Newt/Tina and I shouldn’t really mess with that.

However in an alternate universe where everything is exactly the same except the pairings are free to mess with, Graves will break out and learn about this person who is causing Grindelwald to attack New York every month with increasingly ridiculous and convoluted plans that never work. It’ll start out as him being a bit curious and a lot annoyed - do you know exactly how much paperwork Grindelwald’s schemes generate, and why is Goldstein always mysteriously busy whenever it needs to be done this is a conspiracy - and he’ll be completely underwhelmed at first because what? this? the great and powerful wizard that Grindelwald is hellbent on defeating is currently stuck up a tree with a clabbert because “She had a nightmare, she didn’t want to go back to bed by herself and I accidentally left my wand on my nightstand, but it’s all ok because she’s happy now” and Graves will just. What. This?

But somewhere around the fourth or fifth time he rescues Newt from various trees, window ledges on twenty story buildings (there was a fwooper! I couldn’t leave him!), random giant holes in central park that weren’t there yesterday?? (rock-wyrms, Newt chirps happily, stroking the grotesque creatures under their bulbous, drool-slathered chins, Aren’t they darling?) and on one memorable occasion an over-amorous lady in a speakeasy, Graves starts expecting it. If he hasn’t rescued Newt in the last week he gets twitchy. His Newt-senses start tingling. He ends up on stake-outs outside Newt’s apartment because at some point something dire is going to happen, and Graves may as well be on hand when it does.

Then Newt starts inviting him in, and it’s still a stake out even if Graves is in Newt’s workshop, and it’s still just being time-saving if he helps Newt feed the animals, and it’s still just avoiding more paperwork if he brings Newt back to his place because Graves has better wards than Newt’s crappy apartment does, and really, there’s nothing more to it than being practical when he cooks Newt dinner or walks with him to work in the morning or slips an arm around his shoulders to keep him close when it’s dark out.

And, in this alternate universe that remember won’t happen because I was determined to write a gen fic, Graves will be completely dismissive of anyone that says they’re dating and will be totally confused when he hears people talking about Newt’s boyfriend because what the hell, who dares, why is Goldstein rolling her eyes at me, Newt, Newt what are they talking about -

And Newt’s face will be flaming red by this point and Tina will be cackling in the background and summoning a hotdog because a show this good needs food, and eventually Newt just marches across the room and grabs Graves by both ears and smashes their faces together in the most awkward, painful kiss that Graves has ever experienced.

He’s insulted on behalf of kisses.

So of course, it’s only natural that he shows Newt how it’s done.

…

…

Almost like choosing your favorite child 🌚😂