Animaux Fantastiques - Theseus Scamander

Une Rencontre Fortuite

THESEUS

London was warm that day, the sunlight beaming in sheets of white gold.

Theseus flipped through the Alnwick Broadsheet, a lesser respected newspaper of the wizarding world in Whitehall. He'd taken lunch outside the ministry, at a small eatery that closed its doors not too long after the Obscurus incident in America, just after Grindelwald's return gained traction in the media.

His sandwich had grown cold as he laughed at the comedy panel written by amateur comics. High-jinks stories, too fantastical to be true, snowballed into the kind of ridiculous tales that made Theseus smile in bemusement until his cheeks hurt.

Off to the side, a woman's heels clacked to a halt near his table. A whiff of vanilla and lilacs unfurled like summer near the potted hydrangeas.

"Theseus?" the woman hugged in summer spoke his name and it sounded like myth, for a moment. She'd spoken clearly, with a cadence that made him imagine she was smiling before he even looked up from his paper, like the way his Professor of Romantic Histories and Oration would dramatize saying perilous, antiquity and amor fati.

Theseus let the folds of his newspaper sag, and above him stood Leta Lestrange, dressed in her best colour—her favourite colour—sage. She had a perfect smile, he immediately realised. More so than he'd remembered. She seemed taller too, more assured of herself in the ease with which she set her stack of books beside him, inviting herself into his personal space like she belonged there.

"Theseus Scamander," her gaze softened when their eyes met, "as I live and breathe. It is you. I thought I recognised you through the window. What a marvellous surprise."

"Leta Lestrange," Theseus was gobsmacked, entirely unsure of what to say or how to act. "Green is still your colour; you wear it well. That smile, even better."

She blushed, sweeping her fingernails through her perfectly styled hair, trying to tuck imaginary loose strands behind her ear. She peeked at the newspaper in his hands and huffed, "And you still have terrible taste in literature, I see."

"I enjoy it for its enlightening political pieces," he smirked, folding the paper in half and setting it aside.

"Really?" she arched a brow, playing along with his obvious bit. "What's this week's headliner?"

"Definitely the column on extravagant hats in ministry chamber sessions being too distracting, Secretary Pontiffa Messings's two-inch tall tule and peacock feather hat was definitely to blame for the new law on office-wear restrictions passing," he took a sip of his tea and nearly choked from the bitter taste. He'd left the bag to infuse a little too long, but, luckily, he'd managed to keep cool, swallowing easily. "I hear they might ban hats altogether. A shame, too. Pontiffa loves a good hat. I think it gives her stage presence."

"Yes," Leta nodded along, leaning in closer to add lowly, "I had a meeting with her yesterday. I took quite the liking to her green beret with rhinestones the size of Jupiter."

"Personally, I have a soft spot for her yellow bonnet," he exaggerated the length of the brim as he mimed its placement on his head. "Makes any room she enters feel like the sun is constantly hovering over her head."

"A good thing too, seeing as how the weather here is just as I remember it," Leta's spark dimmed as she gazed out of the window.

In that brief second, he saw the old Leta, the one who'd linger in doorways and hide herself behind book covers. Even when she grew taller and more beautiful. Even when most of the girls in his class spoke of her 'exotic beauty' as if it were a gift from Merlin himself, and then immediately after, in the same breath, they'd perk themselves up by insulting her lineage.

"Would you like to join me for lunch?" Theseus checked his pocket watch. Knowing he had little time to spare, he was still willing to bend a rule or two for her. Something he hadn't had the inclination to do in years.

"I'd love to," she returned his gaze, but it wasn't as vibrant as it had been a minute ago, "but I have to make a good impression on my first day."

"So... you're back then, in London, I mean?" he straightened out from his chair, a warm excitement making him feel half his age, in a good way. Like the way he'd get after an away-game during quidditch tournaments.

"I am," she said, picking up her books and backing away towards the door, taking the smell of summer with her. "You haven't seen the last of me yet, Scamander."

"That sounds dangerously close to a promise, Leta."

"One of the few I don't intend on breaking," she said the words definitively, in much the same way someone would swear a vow. Just when she was about ready to turn around completely, her expression changed, and she wrestled with leaving. Then, finally, she added: "It's funny... when I saw you through the window, I thought I was looking at Newt, but I'm equally glad it was you, Theseus. It was really good seeing you again."

What a comedy indeed, to sit at his favourite lunch spot on the singular day the weather was kind, and when work wasn't overbearing at the Auror offices, only to run into the small, mousey girl who used to be inseparable from his brother's side. Except she wasn't small or mousey or attached to Newt's hip anymore. She was her own person, standing tall and poised, speaking with confidence he hadn't imagined he'd ever see her be so comfortable in.

In a flood of nostalgia, Theseus was reminded of how much he'd envied Newt whenever Leta would smile at him the way she was now.

That was the smile that changed everything.

Until it was gone.

Suddenly, Theseus was back in Paris, looking up at Leta. Angry, green flame coiled itself around her, constricting like a boa. Just as deadly too.

"I love you," she said. And it sounded like tragedy.

He tried to move, tried to fight to be by her side, but no matter what he did, the result was permanent.

Leta would always disappear behind that curtain of cruel flame, and he'd always wake from his nightmares screaming.

The only difference was that, this time around, he woke up in a strange basement a few feet away from Fairbanks.