Louisiana, 1929. Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy, has brought his wealthy estate across the dimensions of time and space by mysterious means. Taking advantage of the rate of unemployed African American workers at the height of the Great Depres...
Lucius Malfoy's shindig sickened Maureen more and more with every second. It was 1929 and black slaves were serving a bunch of fat, happy white people. Maureen didn't eat or drink the entire time she was there, no matter how many gentle waiters approached her with a tray of Malfoy's "finest" champagne.
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Thankfully, there were two faces in the crowd she knew that she could trust: Newt Scamander and his little friend, Benjamin. She didn't buy that ridiculous "uncle and nephew" cover story for a second. She knew the truth: they were companions to one of her future incarnations – which one, she didn't have time to discern. She only needed answers to the Malfoys' dealings in 1929 Louisiana.
She caught Newt and Ben as they stood along one corner of the ballroom, conversing with each other over their next plan of action in rescuing someone by the name of "Alicia" (possibly that poor black woman the one called "Bubba Joe" dragged in by a noose, beaten and half-naked).
"I know your lil' secret," she nosed right in, spooking them.
"W-W-What s-secret?" Newt stammered.
"Oh, drop the bloody act, Newt," Maureen demanded. "I know you two are not from this dimension. You're here with another version of me, spying on the Malfoys, just like I presumably told you to."
Ben looked on her suspiciously. "Another version of you?" He then started to put two and two together. "Wait a sec! Are you...?"
"Alicia?" Newt had also figured it out.
Maureen frowned. "So that black girl they dragged in was me...or a future version of me." She felt more disconcerted of the fact than before. "Where the bloody hell did they take her?"
"That's what we were tryin' to figure out," Ben said. "The only one who'd know is that fat guy with the mustache who brought her in."
"Bubba Joe," Maureen identified.
"So that's the ruffian's name." There was a hint of scorn in the usually meek tone of Newt Scamander's voice.
"I'm ready to go on Four-Arms on that caterpillar face," an aggressive Ben proclaimed, slamming his right hand against his left fist. Maureen fleetingly caught a glimpse of an unusual wristwatch he wore, alien in design.
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