¡THIS IS NOT MY STORY! The story was make by nyxblack on fanfiction.net.
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The motley group return to Newt's case after finally recapturing the now shrunken Occamy and Dougal the Demiguise.
Hermione stood a short while away from Newt, her irritation with the man not quite gone, watching as he leads Dougal by the hand to his little home.
"Here she comes." He says lifting the Demiguise up and into its nest. His once again exposed forearms flexing
"Happy to be home? Bet you're exhausted, buddy. Come-on-there you go-that's right." He whispers to Dougal with a soft smile. Hermione's expression relaxes at the scene.
Her eyes trail to Tina a little ways away, anger and irritation spiking in her chest as she remembers how Tina ordered Queenie to go digging around in her head.
She understands now, how Harry felt every night he returned from a lesson with Snape in their fifth year, exposed, vulnerable. It was an invasion of privacy- it's just not done. Hermione thinks, a frown on her face as Tina, unconcerned for Hermione's inner turmoil, glances between the various enclosures, face full of wonder and admiration.
Jacob chuckles lightly at Tina's expression, unaware of the frown Hermione is sending at Tina and the irritation and anger rolling off the woman in waves. The old adage her Mother taught her springs to mind as she watches the other woman. If looks could kill.
"Ouch!" Newt suddenly exclaims, catching Hermione's attention once more, her expression adopting a neutral look.
Newt fishes Pickett out of his pocket, holding him up on his hand as he strides through the various enclosures, Hermione shadows him silently, curious to see how he'll explain his way out of this one.
"Right... I think we need to talk. See, I wouldn't have let him keep you, Pickett. Pick, I would rather chop off my hand than get rid of you... After everything you have done for me-now come on." He pleads as they reach the magnificent Thunderbird's enclosure.
Poppy clacks quietly in Hermione's hair, pulling at a few stray strands as she makes her way to the front.
"Pick- we've talked about sulking before, haven't we. Pickett- come on, give me a smile. Pickett, give me a..."
Hermione watches as Pickett sticks out his tiny tongue and blows a raspberry at Newt.
Serves him right. Hermione thinks cupping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles, Poppy cackling as she swings in her hair.
"All right- now, that is beneath you." Newt replies placing Pickett on his shoulder, Hermione can't help but laugh loudly at the pair, gaining the man's attention.
His surprised eyes dart to her, seeing the mirth she doesn't hide. An embarrassed smile graces his features before he drops his gaze as if remembering something painful, his expression falling before turning and busying himself with various buckets of feed.
"And you?" He asks, back turned, a sliver of pleading in his tone, eyes focused on the task at hand.
"Hmm?" Hermione asks stepping closer to the man, coming to a stop at his side as Poppy and Pickett begin to argue from the shoulders of their respective hosts.
Hermione sticks a tongue out playfully at the small Bowtruckle on Newts shoulder earning herself a raspberry in return. Her laughter fills the air once more as Newt turns to her, gaze darting between hers and the floor, wringing his hands nervously.
"It was obvious you were upset with me for giving away Pickett and- attempting to- placate you through the use of the unusual magic between us." He begins. "You have to understand I wouldn't- I would never- It- I was wrong. I shouldn't have done what I did and I promise I won't ever do that again." Newt says in a rush, eager to explain himself but unable to fully articulate his feelings.
Hermione releases a huff of air, looking to the sky where the Thunderbird circles far above their heads, silence filling the air around them as she gathers her thoughts, sucking a great gulp of air into her lungs.
She was hurt and angry, these feelings probably wouldn't fully go away for a time yet but while Hermione may not be able to condone his actions, she was no stranger to making questionable decisions in the heat of the moment. Desperation often leads one to commit acts that they would not otherwise do. With that thought in mind she answers the waiting man.
"Mmm I suppose if Pickett has forgiven you for nearly giving him away I can as well." She responds with a soft smile, turning her eyes to him once more. "As for using our connection to placate me...well. You would do best to remember your promise. Please don't break my trust in such a way again and you better not expect me to forgive you so easily if you pull something so foolish again."
A tentative smile stretches across the handsome man's face as he tilts his chin up, more confident now, looking directly into Hermione's eyes. Newt reaches forward, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear, careful not to brush her skin, leaning in close, the curl wrapping about his finger.
"A fool indeed-" He begins, blue eyes darkening slightly. "Should I take that to mean that you have no intentions of leaving me to my own devices anytime soon?" He questions, voice soft, his words heavy and full of meaning, his tongue darting out between his slightly parted lips.
Hermione's breath catches as she follows the line of his tongue before staring into the shining depths of his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her lips, a smirk curving her mouth suddenly as she leans forward, her lips close to his ear.
Two can play at this game. She thinks letting out a small breath of air, her vindictive streak making an appearance, eyes shining as as he stiffens, his hand dropping from her hair.
"If you'll have me" She says voice low, tone playful. "It seems as though you're the type of man trouble loves to find."
Newt stiffens, clearing his throat as Hermione pulls away, their faces still close, breath mingling as their eyes meet once more.
"Says the Gryffindor to the Hufflepuff." Newt murmurs, tongue darting out from between his lips, Hermione's whiskey coloured eyes following it's path, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Her irritation with Newt had subsided, and though she could forgive him for what he did she wouldn't be able to forget for a while yet.
"Hey, Newt. Who is she?" Queenie's voice fills the air around them, the two breaking apart swiftly, turning to face the clearly amused woman.
"I- Ah- Who?" Newt questions, struggling to gather his bearings once more.
Hermione's eyes follow the line of Queenie's pale, delicate hand as she motions to a photograph sitting just inside Newts shed.
Who indeed. Hermione thinks, squinting her eyes, examining the picture of the the beautiful girl smiling suggestively from within the frame.
A girlfriend? Or and ex perhaps? She questions mentally, a sliver of anxiety pricking her senses.
Hermione's gaze darts to Newt as an audible gulp fills the air, his adams apple bobbing, eyes darting about as if uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Hermione's brows furrow as she narrows her eyes at the man beside her in question.
"Ah... That's no one." Newt answers, tongue darting across his lips, his eyes falling on Hermione before looking away as if guilty of something.
"Leta L-Lestrange? I- I've Heard of that family. Aren't they kinda- you know?" Queenie asks, stumbling a bit over her words, sending a worried glance in Hermione's direction as the name Lestrange fills the air.
Hermione freezes, a shakey breath falling from her lips, taking calming breaths in order to slow her racing heart, having no desire to drag Queenie along for another trip down memory lane starring Bellatrix Lestrange so soon after the last.
"Please don't read my mind." Newt asks, his tone a little harder than he intended. Turning around to busy himself with the buckets of feed once more, unwilling to meet Hermione or Queenie's eyes.
A beat passes as Queenie drinks the whole story out of Newt's head. A number of emotions flit across her expression, intrigue, sadness, a touch displaced anger. Newt continues to work, trying hard to pretend Queenie isn't reading his mind.
Hermione feels as though the world as she knew it was being torn out from under her, a rush of emotions assaulting her senses, a cackling reminiscent of Bellatrix's filling her mind.
They're not the same person. Hermione attempts to reason with herself, breathing heavily as she clutches at her chest, attempting to sort through her frayed nerves and push down the rising fear and anxiety.
Queenie steps forward, closer to Newt and Hermione. Her eyes darting nervously between the two.
"Sorry, I asked you not to." Newt says, tone angry and embarrassed as he slams a bucket down with a little more force than necessary causing Hermione to jump, breaking her from her thoughts.
Her eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. She stares at Newt's back, an expressionless look falling in place across her face.
"I know, I'm sorry, I can't help it. It's like I told Hermione, people are easiest to read when they're hurting."
At her words Newt freezes, body going stiff, a shaky breath falling from his lips, head hung.
"I'm not hurting. Anyway, it was a long time ago."
"That was a real close friendship you had at school." Queenie whispers nervously, looking quickly in Hermione's direction, an action unnoticed by either of her companions.
"Yes, well, neither of us really fitted in at school, so we-" Newt says in attempt to be dismissive, turning his gaze to Queenie, taking note of Jacob and Tina standing not far behind.
"-became real close. For years." Hermione releases an audible rush of air, catching the attention of all those but Newt.
"She was a taker. You need a giver." She finishes softly, her greyish green eyes on Hermione.
Newt follows her gaze, blue eyes landing on Hermione's tense form. He opens his mouth as if wishing to say something, anything, but closes it abruptly, unable to find the words.
—
Percival Graves apparates into the shadows of the Second Salem Church.
He holds a replacement wand before him as he approaches the dreary structure, his curious expression besieged with touches of irritation and desperation as he examines the destruction laid bare before him. His expression changes and the irritation and desperation melt away, excitement and intrigue taking their place.
—
"What are you three talking about?" Tina asks, having caught the tail end of their conversation but unable to make sense of her sister's words.
Hermione can't help the slight sneer that curves her lips then.
Tina. She thinks, her irritation with the young woman continuing to grow and fester within her. Growing ever nearer to her breaking point. Hermione runs a frenzied, shaking hand through her hair, attempting to clamp down on the emotions building within her.
—
Graves enters the destroyed church, wand still drawn, moonlight filtering through the gaps in the derelict roof, bathing the man in an eerie, ominous glow. Chastity lies dead amid debris from the attack. He pays the corpse no mind, stepping over her, she's nothing, not at all useful in his current state and continues his search. An eerie sobbing can be heard from somewhere within the building.
He approaches Mary Lou's body beneath the banister, it lies twisted and disfigured before him, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he stares at the marks on her face, visible in the moonlight.
An odd look mars his handsome face then, he's not horrified nor disgusted at the gruesome sight, instead, he's positively giddy.
—
"Nothing of any importance." Hermione says, eyes falling on Tina, the single word sharper than Gryffindor's sword as it passes her lips.
Silence descends over the group, Hermione looks to Jacob standing just behind Tina as he shifts uncomfortably unsure of what to do. The tension in the air palpable as Tina and Hermione's gazes meet once more. A silent battle of wills, their opinions of one another clear. Two women so very similar yet entirely different.
"How about I be the judge of that." Tina says finally, gaze hard, jaw set in a stern line, the challenge clear in her voice.
Bellatrix's cackles fill Hermione's mind once more, breathing hard as her senses are overwhelmed. The name Lestrange swirling through her mind as if taunting her, her own irritation with the woman before her and the memories of Lestrange blending together, causing her tenuous grip on her emotions to slip.
Behind her Queenie flinches, a flash of the mad, cackling woman filling her mind once more as she catches the tail end of Hermione's growing emotions.
—
Credence is cowering at the back of the destroyed church, whimpering and clutching his pendant of the Deathly Hallows, tight in a pale, shaking hand. Taking notice of the young man Graves steps quickly toward him. He bends down, cradling Credence's head like a mother would a scared child. However the disconnect between his actions and words is clear as his deep voice fills the room.
"The Obscurial- was here? Where did she go?" He asks, the lack of tenderness in his voice clear.
Credence looks up at the older man, he is utterly traumatised and unable to explain. His face a plea for affection.
"Help me. Help me." He begs, voice cracking.
"Didn't you tell me you had another sister?" At the question Credence begins to weep once more.
Graves places a hand on the young mans neck, his mask beginning to slip, his stress and irritation with the situation becoming clear. Still he attempts to remain calm.
"Please help me." Credence begs once more, voice desperate, fingers clutching at Graves robes.
"Where's your other sister, Credence? The little one? Where did she go?" Credence trembles and mumbles in response, pulling against Graves hand, attempting to bury his face into the other mans chest.
"Please help me." Suddenly the mask is dropped completely, a furious expression contorting his handsome features into a viscous expression.
Graves pulls back his free arm, slapping Credence hard across the face. The loud smack echoes within the ruined room. Credence looks up into the mans face, no longer weeping, expression stunned.
"Your sister is in grave danger. We need to find her." Graves' practically growls, fingers digging into the tender flesh of the boys neck.
Credence is aghast, unable or perhaps unwilling to comprehend that his hero has hit him. Graves grabs him and pulls him to his feet roughly as they Disapparate away.
—
"Oh yes." Hermione says, a bitter laugh falling from her mouth, a hint of madness leaking into her voice. "Porpentina Goldstein; Judge, Jury and and Executioner."
Try as she might to forget or come to terms with all that had happened to her in the past, some experiences were so deeply ingrained in Hermione's subconscious that they greatly affected her to this day.
Tina stands before her, mouth opening and closing in shock.
"Hermione-" Queenie begins behind her, voice quiet, soothing.
Hermione ignores the blonde, stepping towards the shocked woman before her, easily closing the space between them until they're standing nearly toe to toe.
"Tell me. Did you even bother checking into me before you presented us before the MACUSA and all of those delegates? You didn't, did you? If you had, you wouldn't have doubted me before when I told you it was impossible for Graves to have known my name. What is my name Tina? Who am I? Where did I come from? Hermione who?" She asks, a derisive tone filling her voice as the final question spills from her lips.
"I- You have n-" Tina begins, voice angry, the words dying as her lips as Hermione holds up a single steady hand, silencing her.
"I'm not finished!" Hermione growled. "You didn't even give Newt a chance to explain himself before eagerly handing him over to the authorities. You handed over a case full of harmless creatures to the MACUSA! Recklessly endangering the poor things, creatures that wouldn't even have been able to defend themselves if Graves had decided to incinerate the case on the spot! Did you even think?" Hermione continues, steadily gaining steam, hands fisted at her sides. "Wizards! Doesn't matter the nationality- why bother with learning anything about those you would condemn? Anyone or anything deemed less then them is instantly a second class citizen, deemed to be little more than a beast in need of being put down!"
Unseen by either women, Newt's mouth is dropped open in surprise, a look of wonder and great respect mingling across his face as he takes in the wild haired woman giving an impassioned speech before him. The mention of 'anyone' causing his brows to furrow in thought, yet another piece of the puzzle to add to the ever growing mystery of one Hermione Jean Granger.
—
Credence and Graves Apparate onto a deserted street, cloaked in the cover of darkness they approach a tenement building.
Inside the building is miserable, dilapidated. Credence and Graves begin to climb the partially ruined stairwell.
"What is this place?" Graves asks, taking in the building around them as they ascend the steps.
"Ma adopted Modesty out of here. From a family of twelve. She still misses her brothers and sisters. She still talks about them." Credence explains, his voice calmer now.
Graves, wand in hand looks around the landing-there are numerous darkened doorways stretching out in several directions.
Credence, still shell-shocked has stopped in the stairwell.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know." Credence's answer is quiet, the young man looking down. He's at a complete loss.
Graves becomes increasingly impatient. He's so close to his goal yet not close enough. He marches forward into one of the rooms.
"You're a squib, Credence. I could smell it off you the minute I met you." Graves tells him, his voice carrying, tone absolute.
"What?" Credence's face falls.
Graves marches back along the corridor to try another room, his pretence of care for Credence all but forgotten.
"You have magical ancestry, but no power."
"But you said you could teach me-"
"You're unteachable. Your mother's dead. That's your reward." Graves sneers as he points to another landing. "I'm done with you." His words are final, their conversation meeting an abrupt end.
Credence doesn't move. He stares after Graves, his breathing becoming shallow and quick, as though he's trying to contain something.
Graves moves through the dark rooms. A tiny movement somewhere close by catches his attention.
"Modesty?" He asks, voice carrying in the surrounding silence.
Graves advances cautiously into a derelict schoolroom at the end of the corridor.
—
None of the assembled group notices as the sky above them begins to darken, storm clouds swirling above their heads.
All eyes are on the two arguing women who look to be close to blows. Neither willing to back down, both set on proving their point.
"M- Me?" Tina screeches. "And you're little miss perfect aren't you! No respect for authority- you punched the Director of Magical Security and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the face before binding him and stealing not only his, but another persons wand! You're a criminal!" Tina shouts, rage clear. Unwilling to be further chastised by the woman before her without providing any sort of defence.
—
Modesty cowers in the corner of a dark, derelict room, wide-eyed and shaking with fear as Graves approaches.
"Modesty." Graves whispers as he bends down and puts his wand away, once more playing the soothing parent.
"There's no need to be afraid. I'm here with your brother, Credence." At the mention of her brother, Modesty whimpers with terror.
"Out you come, now.." Graves says, ignoring her terrified whimper, the connection not being made as he extends his hand.
A faint jingling sound fills the room, cracks begin to appear in the ceiling, spreading like a spider's web. Dust begins to fall as the walls shake uncontrollably, the room beginning to disintegrate around them.
Graves stands. He looks down at Modesty, clearly drawing a conclusion, she is clearly terrified and not the source of this magic. Graves turns and slowly draws his wand, confusion clear on his face as the wall in front of him collapses as though turned to sand, revealing another wall ahead. Modesty is nothing to him now, the young terrified girl all but forgotten. Her life no longer of any importance in his mind.
As each wall collapses before him, he is transfixed, elated even, yet also very much aware that he has made a colossal error.
The final wall collapses, revealing Credence, who stares at him. The young man shakes, fists clenched at his sides, unable to control his fury, his sense of betrayal, his bitterness.
—
"Oh come off it!" Hermione shouts, at the equally enraged woman before her. "We're both criminals now. Though, please do tell me which is truly worse. Incapacitating a man who may very well not be who he truly claims to be and was dead set on executing us all or forcing your very own sister to go digging around in my mind without my consent. Forcing not only her but myself to relive one of my very worst memories all because you wouldn't believe me. You're bli-"
A gigantic crack of thunder suddenly fills the room, silencing Hermione, all eyes looking to the sky as the Thunderbird rises into the air screeching, flapping its wings vigorously, it's body turning black and gold, eyes flashing lightning.
Newt examines the bird, clearly concerned.
"Danger. He senses danger." Another crack of thunder fills the room, lightening bathing the group in an eerie glow.
—
"Credence... I owe you an apology..." Graves begins slowly addressing the furious young man before him.
"I trusted you. I thought you were my friend. That you were different." Credence's face begins to contort, his rage tearing him from within.
"You can control it, Credence." Graves attempts to soothe the young man, hand held out.
"But I don't think I want to, Mr. Graves." Credence whispers, finally making eye contact with the man before him.
The Obscurus moves horribly beneath Credence's skin. An awful inhuman growl comes out of his mouth, from which something dark begins to bloom.
Graves watches the scene before him completely fascinated. The dark force finally takes over Credence, his whole body exploding into a dark mass that hurtles forward out the window, narrowly missing Graves.
Graves stands watching as the Obscurus zooms out and over the city.
Now free of the small, darkened room, the Obscurus churns and twists through the city, wreaking havoc. Cars are sent flying, pavements explode, and buildings are demolished. Nothing is left untouched, the Obscurus leaves only destruction in its wake.
—
Once more free of the case, Tina, Jacob, Newt, Hermione and Queenie stand on the rooftop underneath a large sign. From the edge they have a clear view of the chaos going on below.
Oh god. Hermione thinks looking at the destruction below, her mind instantly going back to the end of the final battle.
Her breath catches, breathing becoming laboured as the memory begins to take form. She's taken back in time, the smell of dust and a coppery scent filling her senses.
Harry, Hermione and Ron exit the great hall, looking far worse for wear, blood and dirt obscuring their skin.
Though they had won the castle was in ruins. Great chunks missing from the marble staircase, part of balustrade gone. Tripping over rubble as the trio make their way through the now destroyed halls, bloodstains, some still wet, marking the walls and floor every few steps. In the distance Peeves could be heard singing a victory song of his own composition.
The battle had been won, but at what cost. She can't help but think as she takes in the destruction around her, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, a heavy weight in her chest.
She's broken from her thoughts as Queenie grips her shaking hand in her own. The two women share a look of understanding. Another experience shared thanks to Queenie's talents. Hermione takes a deep shaking breath as she focuses on the scene below once more, the warmth of Queenie's hand and firm grip calming her, anchoring her in the present.
"Jeez... Is that the Obscuria- thing?" Jacob asks, breaking the silence.
Sirens sound, the group stares at the scene below, registering the scale of the destruction.
"That's more powerful than any Obscurial I have ever heard of..." Newt says, trailing off as he turns, looking to Hermione in question.
They must be incredibly powerful. Hermione thinks as she shakes her head in response, eyes widening at the implications.
A particularly loud explosion sounds in the distance. The city beneath them is beginning to burn. Hermione takes a deep calming breath once more, unable to stop the adrenaline that's begun to burn in her veins, the urge to move, to do something, anything filling her to the brim.
Suddenly without warning, Newt steps back, quickly approaching Queenie before thrusting his case into her hands, forcing the two woman to release their grip abruptly so the case doesn't plummet onto the ground below. He pulls a journal from his pocket.
"If I don't come back, look after my creatures. Everything that you need to know is in there." He tells her before handing off the journal, barely able to make eye contact.
"What?" Queenie asks, her shock quickly turning to understanding as Hermione furrows her brow at the man as he makes his way back onto the roof's edge next to her.
"They're not killing it." His says, voice hard as he looks back to the Obscurus below.
Newt looks to Hermione one final time, their eyes meet. A swirl of brown and blue, a look of sadness, longing and regret filling his gentle features. He opens his mouth as if to say something before snapping it shut.
It's a suicide mission. She thinks, a look of understanding filling her features, quickly putting the pieces together. Her lips press together in a tight line as Newt looks away, a shuddering breath falling from his lips. She watches as if in slow motion as he steps forward with a single foot, preparing to jump from the roof.
"Oh no you don't." Hermione growls, making her decision, reaching out to grip his arm just as he jumps, shocked blue eyes falling on her face as they begin to fall, Hermione being pulled along with him. His arms cradle her waist pulling her flush against his body, the wind whipping against their skin, face to face, noses touches. He looks into her eyes, breath catching as he takes in her determined gaze. With a pop they Disapparate, the air feeling as though it's been sucked from their lungs.
There's a pause, time seems to freeze as Tina, Queenie and Jacob look at the place where Hermione and Newt just were.
Queenie gasps, a delicate hand reaching up to cover her mouth as Jacob lets out a low whistle.
Tina makes an angry noise under her breath.
"I'm going to check out what's going on below." Tina says before Disapparating.
"Keep holda that, Honey." Queenie says, shoving Newt's case at Jacob.
She moves to Disapparate, but Jacob hangs on to her and she falters.
"No, no, no!" He shouts, clearly distraught.
"I can't take you. Please let go of me Jacob!" She tries to reason, pulling against his grip.
"Hey-Hey! You're the one that said I was one of youse... right?" An explosion sounds in the distance once more.
"It's too dangerous." At her words, Jacob tightens his grip slightly, staring into her eyes. She can't help but read his mind and her expression changes to one of wonderment and tenderness as she sees what he went through in the war. She's moved and appalled, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she very slowly raises a hand and touches his cheek.
Jacob, Hermione, Newt... of all the people in the world, of everyone she and Tina could meet these were the people she now called friends. They didn't look down on her, they weren't truly afraid. Though Hermione and Newt had more they wished to hide from those around them they didn't think any less of her for the power she couldn't fully control. They didn't resent her for the things she had seen.
Newt Scamander.
The man with a case full beautiful, wonderful and the most magnificent of creatures. An outsider, a loner, so clearly misunderstood and looking not only to be understood but for understanding. His experiences, experiences which would have pushed lesser men to cruelty and contempt having made him kind, gentle and empathetic to all those he meets. Fiercely intelligent and determined, he was sure to make his mark on the world before his time was done, his name one day becoming a household name.
A soft smile stretches across her face.
Hermione Granger...
Though she had yet to share many of her secrets, Queenie knew some of the truth. The impossible girl who fell through time. All of those secrets, they were eating her alive. Haunted by her past, unable to truly let go. A number of unresolved emotions waging a silent war within her very soul. A childhood lost too young, fighting on the front lines of a war that was not hers to fight, a fierce warrior unwilling and unable to watch the suffering of others and do nothing, a hero for the weak, willing to stand up for those unwilling or unable to do so themselves. Like Newt, she too was an outsider, often giving more than she received in return, prejudice and hatred colouring her every experience within the magical world. Like Newt these experiences did little to deter her from her path. She'd face any obstacle thrown her way with her chin held high, mind already set, and enough courage and nerve to make a lion cower in fear.
Jacob Kowalski. Queenie thinks staring into the eyes of the man before her. The skin of his face warm, under the palm of her hand. Sweet, gentle Jacob, so very kind and open minded, a soldier despite what he may say. A hero. His actions and thoughts here and now speaking volumes, further endearing himself to her.
Another explosion sounds in the distance as the two lose themselves in each others eyes. Queenie's hand gently caressing his cheek. The city below them burning, the smell of dust and burning wood filling the air.
With a final smile Queenie drops her hand, gripping one of his own tight in hand as they Disapparate away.