(closed)

[xxxxx]

Who: Newt Scamander (suffusive), Remus Lupin (xxxxx), Sirius Black (doggo), Tina Goldstein (goldsteins)
What: A reasonable wizard discussion that will almost definitely not end with many things on fire.
When: Nowish.
Where: House 34.
Warning(s): None currently, will update if someone dies or makes out.

[ Somehow, with how being entirely unimportant and probably not actually theft, there's tea. It isn't the best tea—something made that much more apparent by the lack of milk or sugar to go along with it and mask its defects—but as far as foreign planet teas go, it's really not far off from English Breakfast.

The currently-made tea is in two mismatched cups: one foisted on Sirius, the other already half empty and hanging at a precarious angle in Remus' hand. ]

—the day afterwards, [ he's saying in the quiet tones, even though he's also so far avoided any particularly clear statements, so it would take both eavesdropping and context to know what he's talking about, ] if it isn't any trouble—

[ He'd like to stay with Sirius and his muggle roommates after the full moon, is the gist of this conversation, if one has the necessary context to follow it. If a fourteen-year-old can suss him out over a school year, even a bright one, he's not inclined to leave extra clues for an Auror and her magizoologist friend (who may already be totally onto him, but he doesn't know that). Which means taking himself and his post-moon misery elsewhere.

But the rest of that discussion will have to wait, because there's noise at the door—possibly the very witch they're waiting for! possibly with company!—and Remus stops talking and straightens up, sort of. He doesn't stand up properly from where he's leaning, nearly sitting, on the counter top, but he looks a little bit more dignified about it. ]

Comments

[doggo]

[Sirius' latest round of fixed staring is (somewhat belatedly) interrupted by the fond blood-traitors. The comment is made, the conversation continues on, and Sirius processes the remark and looks slowly around at Remus. A mild tint of amusement colours what is passing for a fleeting smile, there and then gone again. He's forgotten what it's like to have inside jokes. He's mostly forgotten jokes at all.

Blood-traitor status did him precious little good in keeping him out of Azkaban. Perhaps it inexplicably cast him as the likelier traitor, knit too close to his family tree to extract himself. That's what they must have said, anyways. He wouldn't know.

Snappish, he looks around at Goldstein instead, picks out the most offensive word she's offered--]

We don't have any masters.

[That rankles, like a hand rubbed wrongways against fur. But despite that, she does have a good point, says a sensible part of Sirius. Remus is more or less acquiescing the same and calling it irony, that's all. They are asking a lot without proof, without knowing that it will ever actually matter, and Sirius turns his stolen wand over in his hands, a very thin defence against the possibility of two Dark wizards, scores of muggle deaths, old evils that they can't contain, barely contend with.

But that's the way it's always been, hasn't it. When Sirius looks up again, he's collected some more bits of himself.]

We want you to believe us. [Us. Another thin defence, but one Sirius is glad to wear again. Perhaps they once had put too much store in themselves as the Marauders, but he'll never be the one to say it. It's Peter that's to blame. Cut out that rot and they'd have been fine.] Remus is right. If anyone wakes up and recongises me, wants to start some campaign against me, then we want you to help us shout them down.

And we want you with us, if it comes to that. Against Voldemort, against Grindelwald, against anyone that's going to come out of that sleep up there and wreck havoc. There might be only four of us, but that's better than any of us trying to do this alone.

[The Order was down to thin ranks by the time Sirius got shut away in Azkaban, hopelessness barely countered by their purpose and grim conviction. That's the way it's always been becomes rather less comforting if Sirius lets himself remember how it ended, if he thinks for a moment about a garden strewn with rubble, little ruby-red shards of glass from that leaded pane above the cottage door, sprinkled like snow through the grass and crunching under the heel of his boots. A price he wouldn't pay twice if it was asked of him. All of that matters, but it matters rather less if James is up there asleep.]

[xxxxx]

[ Their reactions to their dark but averted future—Goldstein's caught breath, Scamander's darkening expression—don't go unnoticed. Remus doesn't apologize, not even a wince, but he does pull his hands in closer to himself and straighten his shoulders, physical restraint to match a mental resolution to not let his mouth run too much further than it already has, while Sirius answers Scamander. Answers and demonstrates, if only to Remus himself, that after everything he is still someone Remus would follow into fiendfyre. ]

The odds have been worse, [ he tags on agreeably. Never mind that over half the people they worked with are dead. Rat bastards excluded, they would have fought to the last man.

Scamander sounds the type too. Goldstein sounds—reasonably concerned about reasonable things. That's a thankless job among Gryffindors, Remus can report from his limited attempts at filling the role, and apparently among select Hufflepuffs as well. His smile, when he looks up at her where she's still standing, is sympathetic. ]

If belief is asking too much, Ms Goldstein, that's... Well, it's understandable.

[ He turns both palms up helplessly. What can they do? Veritaserum, legilimency. Neither is available, as far as he's aware, and even if they were he isn't sure either of them would submit to examination and put all of their secrets on display just to appease these strangers. Casting a corporeal Patronus is only rare for Dark wizards, not impossible enough to prove anything to someone who'd prefer skepticism, and Remus is neither going to send his stupid bloody wolf loping off around the magizoologist nor choose this public moment to find out whether the Dementors have interfered with Sirius' head too much for him to manage one of his own.

Which for the time being leaves nothing but belief, and the lack thereof. His smile goes a bit rueful, tighter and crooked, while he goes back to fidgeting with his empty cup. ]

But we didn't want you to hear it from someone else and think we'd been intentionally keeping something from you.

[goldsteins]

[It's too much to simply ask anyone to believe she thinks. No, perhaps too much was not right-- In the past month they'd found the world destroyed, been aboard a spaceship, and shuttled down at breakneck speeds to the surface of the planet. Finding out these men were from the future was not all too out there, but on top of everything it's difficult to suss. In natural fashion she tries to push her own thoughts and worries to the side, something to grapple with later--

Here and now required focus.

The metal of the locket was warming beneath her hand, a simple twist of her hand and she drops it to her side. Grindelwald, undefeated. A new dark lord. These two men insisting they trust them. Sirius Black certainly had the response of someone who had been in Britain's prison, she supposes-- But MACUSA didn't have dementors. She herself had been monitored when she lost her job and any truly dark cases were simply killed. Another effect of her government she almost faced.

It's a different kind of unhinged, she supposes, in the man's reactions thus far. Demands of trust and she frowns deeper yet, assessing the situation ever more quietly before she huffs out a breath.]

Look. The thing is none of what you've said we can prove. I'm not gonna deny a possible new Dark Lord or what your own war has brought-- [Because she does buy that, from their reactions. She's trained to study people and understand them, or try to anyway.] You've got to understand how it sounds. "Trust us, but should someone else appear they'll deny everything."

[Because again, that's exactly what it is-- Though from her grimace it's not as if she doesn't know what it's like to be on the other end of it. What with Grindelwald's recent dealings, but that had been a singular day and settled quickly. She pauses, glancing at Newt before sighing:]

I can't speak for Newt, but this is all a bit much. [Irony in that word there.] And while I'll agree on working you should Grindelwald or your Voldemort shows up-- [It feels like a dig at the separation there when she says it, perhaps because it is.] I'm not going to trust someone simply because they tell me too.

[And she's not. Though, she did trust Newt, but that was an entirely different circumstance. It's the best answer she has, though, because wariness is in her bones. Queenie was the only person she would trust with everything right now. Newt she trusts in many ways, but that bond is still new-- Her trust is hard-earned and careful and working with someone towards a common goal was entirely different.]

[suffusive]

[ As Sirius replies, Newt nods along, brows furrowing. He looks like he might start taking notes any second (and he would, if his quill wasn't in his coat), undeniably attentive to the explanation. He's a researcher, above all else, someone who observes and learns. ]

I appreciate that you've given us all you can. [ in talking about this in the relatively neutral setting of Tina and Remus' shared home, rather than waiting for someone else to spring the information on them. A warning is better than nothing. A gesture of, well, perhaps not trust but rational thinking. He twists his hands on the table, hesitant to vocalize his conclusions. After a moment, he pipes up, soft yet firm. Again, he looks to Sirius. ]

And I'm willing to believe you. [ The benefit of the doubt, as it were. Because it's what he wanted and needed, back in New York, gallivanting around with illegal creatures desperate to return home. ] Wouldn't want wizards fighting around here, anyhow. [ in a densely populated city with refugees meant to blend in and barred from travelling far. If a second voice will diffuse the tension, he's happy to provide it. His opinion may even hold sway for once, given the chocolate frog card business — but that's a privately amusing thought for another time, isn't it? ]

[ Hard to say if he'd, ah, shout someone down for strangers (or if he has a particularly shouty setting to call upon, even if the situation required it), but he's terribly familiar with being misunderstood, teetering on the border between what's right and what's legal, trying to get others to stop and listen for one, bloody moment.

When he continues, he glances from Remus to Tina. ] If that's enough.

[ If half of the team on board is good enough for Remus and Sirius, and if it's alright with her goes unsaid, seeing as he's his own person. Of course, he hopes it's alright with her despite himself. Things will be messy, otherwise. ]

[doggo]

[It is both not enough and enough; more than they could ask for, more than they could have hoped for, and also, not nearly enough. More of a guarantee would be better.

Then again, there has only ever been a small and select group of people that Sirius has considered as enough. When stacked up against the immeasurable trust and loyalty enjoyed between himself and James, for instance--James, who would have trusted Sirius implicitly, without a second thought, who might well have been gone along with whatever he suggested, hexed who he said to hex, any request for explanation unspoken between them, to be discussed later when the dust had settled and they were splitting a cigarette or soaring across the night sky on Sirius' motorbike or walking up the path to the Potter's cottage--well, against James, everyone is lacking in all things.

All this is to say that Sirius tries to temper his flash of anger, tries to convince himself that it is a bit much, what did he expect, really--Goldstein is an Auror, she doesn't know him, shouldn't believe him, any amount of training or sense would tell her that, stop glaring at her--and anyways, Newt Scamander believes him, whatever it means to have the bloke who penned one of your old textbooks saying yes, he'll give you the benefit of the doubt, well, it's got to count for something anyways.

And really: Voldemort is the greater threat. That bit is very true. Voldemort and Grindlewald. Anyone else from their era who might wake up and deny everything, as Goldstein says, Sirius and Remus can shut them up one way or another. With or without sanction and assistance and approval from any Aurors hanging about.

So Sirius nods, tightly. Yes, it's enough for him as well. Yes, he agrees wizards and witches ought not to fight around here, when they're all trying to keep a low profile. Yes, they can be united against Dark magic, at least, not a high standard but something to begin with. Yes, and: he doesn't care if he has Goldstein's full and final trust.]

That's it, then.

[Carefully, he picks up his tea--which has long since gone cold--and takes a sip. Sealing the deal, sort of, and also demonstrating that he's not just an escaped convict who drinks ditchwater. See. He might be trustworthy yet.]

[xxxxx]

That's plenty, [ Remus tags on, looking surprised in his closed-off, trying-not-to-look-surprised way for a second time. Half the surprise comes from being given the benefit of the doubt; Remus isn't as unaccustomed to that as he might have been, in another life where what he is wasn't such a closely held secret, but he still never takes it for granted, even when he isn't sitting next to an admitted fugitive, making unprovable claims about false imprisonment and Dark wizards, to people from seventy years in the past, on a foreign planet, over tea.

The other half comes from realising he'd misread Scamander, underestimated his willingness to break rank. But he's hardly disappointed to have been wrong. On the tail of that absence-of-surprise comes a small smile that's so relieved it borders on confused. ]

Thank you.

[ So as not to leave anyone out, he looks up again. ]

And you, Ms Goldstein. When [ not if, surely when ] Dumbledore or our friends are awake, we'll be able to clear it up once and for all. Just as long as no one attempts to do anything in the meantime that can't be undone.

[ Translation: please don't take it upon yourself to kill my friend.

And an oblique addition to that translation, carried only in how confidently pleasant he sounds: because if you try, we'll put up a fight, and we're really very good.

But, undertones aside, he is entirely sincere about the gratitude. An agreement to unite against Grindlewald or their Voldemort is something worth thanks. The implicit accompanying agreement not to take what anyone else may say about Sirius at face value, anymore than she's taking what they say as the truth now—that's something as well. Preventing Goldstein from someday coming straight at Sirius with a wand and an Auror's sense of authoritative justice, based solely on someone else's hysterical screaming, was the only thing Remus had ever genuinely hoped to get out of this conversation. Everything else is a bonus.

Looking back at Sirius, sipping tea, Remus raises his eyebrows, up and then down, like a pleased sort of shrug with his face. This certainly could be going worse. ]

I'd like to hear more about Grindlewald sometime, if it's a story you wouldn't mind telling. We learned a bit in school, but our professor was... [ He pauses, trying now to find a way around saying anything to imply that events that are likely still painful or frightening to Goldstein and Scamander would someday be reduced to a droning history lesson that put sixteen-year-olds to sleep. But it's too late. The sentence isn't salvageable. So he abandons it entirely, eyes lighting on the bag they'd brought into the kitchen with them instead. ] Have we interrupted your dinner plans?

[goldsteins]

[It's certainly been an interesting discussion-- if that's a word you want to use for it-- but Tina looks no less relaxed than she had minutes prior. Her hands gripping the sides of her elbows as she continues to peer at the two men as if trying to get the answers she wanted out. Except, they'd given their answers and only learning to trust and believe them would make her feel any better about the situation.

And that would take some time.

Her brow arches all the same at Remus' comment. As if she would try to off someone right here. She might disarm and arrest, maybe, but unless someone was trying to kill another person she had no intention of such a thing-- Not really. She's just and maybe a wee bit wreckless, but even as an Auror she always tries to do the right thing than what the rulebook says. Which is, of course, what's gotten her into trouble before--

But it's not something she'll tell these two men and she far from understands the way British Aurors behaved in the later wars.

If she had anything to say then, it passes with a grimace as Remus continues. If it's a story you don't mind telling. They're nothing more than the past, what happens-- or happened-- to them clearly of no merit to the two sitting before them. It's the past so whatever fresh wounds exist isn't a bother, her fingers dig more deeply into the crease of her elbow and she glances at Newt--

Wonders minutely how he's taking to this being called famous. Surely no better than she, and no one's proclaimed anything of her fate short of a byline somewhere. It's a question for later and she almost misses Remus' latter question until she starts with a look of surprise and then forgets to look fierce and imposing as she colors just slightly, giving a huff of a breath.]

Ask Newt, since it seems he doesn't think I'm capable of feeding myself. [It's a light jab in answer, but still she's glad he'd come all the same... And not wholly because she actually is hungry and has to take a moment to figure out when she last ate (the night prior, maybe? she was bad without Queenie there insisting...)] However, it seems we're imposing on your tea.

[Said quickly, still pointedly; Of course she won't let that one go down for now, and it's possible later she won't stick around in this house because nice man or not she doesn't particularly like feeling cornered.] I was only stopping by for a moment anyway.

[suffusive]

[ Ah, yes, Grindelwald, a mixed bag of memories. The entire experience is deeply darkened by the loss of Credence, his second catastrophic failure after the girl in Sudan. There's something uniquely horrifying in the death of children, he thinks. And Jacob had been lost, in a manner of speaking, too.

But he gained a connection with Tina and Queenie. Together, they captured a dark wizard (once the darkest, before this Voldemort), if only temporarily. That's nothing to sneeze at. Regardless, he would gladly trade the story for information on how Albus Dumbledore fits into the future ahead of him (and perhaps, a polite inquiry into the nature of Remus' scars), but he considers Tina's apparent discomfort above all else, noting the sharp grip on her elbow and crease in her brow. Another time, then. His mouth tugs sideways, almost a smile at Remus. ]

I'd like that, Mr. Lupin. [ a nod to Sirius. ] And Mr. Black. But, yes, we must be going. [ Then, he shoots a retort to Tina, mild and wry — ] I'd heard cooking for someone is a gesture of affection. From reliable sources, at that.

[ That's probably soft boy sass for accept this bloody kindness and remember to eat. He stands to tidy after himself, returning his cup to the sink and continuing on in neutral tones. ]

And I've a dragon queen rather justifiably unsettled by magic in my flat, you see. [ "Dragon queen" said as if it's an entirely normal problem to encounter in the wilds of this Olympia, more weary than irritated. The non-sequitur is meant to explain his appearance in the flat to Remus and Sirius, as well as diffuse any remaining tension. It shifts the topic away from the fragile, connective tissue of their criss-crossing histories, if nothing else. ] Makes even the smallest tasks mundane.

[ And difficult, including an activity as simple as cooking. He hadn't thought he relied on magic extensively until he needed to ask permission to utilise it freely. ]

We only meant to drop off supplies for later. [ The vegetables. He offers an apologetic smile. ] Best take care of our business first. [ Whatever business Tina means to imply meant they were only stopping by for a moment, if she even has anything beyond an excuse to leave this house. He seems intent to follow her, at any rate. ]

[doggo]

[Sirius, distracted by the actionable when--very potent, that when, an inevitability that he is cleaving to with every bit of himself that remains, redirecting all that furious energy that saw him out of Azkaban--is slow to agree with Remus. No agreement made aloud, of course, but agreement in the way he takes another sip of tea. Cool, like: this could certainly be going worse indeed.

And yet he's not going to protest interlopers who are content to see themselves out. Nor is he going to protest Remus doing all the necessary pleasantries so he can continue to sit here and drink tea like an animated skeleton.

Well. The thing about dragons stirs him to a little more life, at least.]

Dragon who is a queen, or a queen who rules dragons.

[--Looking a little less skeletal, by some miracle, when he looks around. Perhaps it's because this is the lightest sentence he's managed this whole time--sort of a joke, more proof that he's salvageable.]

Becomes a bit more of a critical difference when it comes to potential immediate destruction of your cottage, I'd think. Don't all beasts like being cooked for?

[Dragons, objectionable Aurors... you know, beasts. He takes another sip of tea.]

[xxxxx]

[ Tina's comment earns a friendly scoffing head shake: imposing, hardly. She was practically the guest of honor, if guest of honor is another way of saying intended victim of a tea ambush. And it is.

If she's leaving, though... Remus reaches a hand across the table, past his own empty cup and the wand he still hasn't put away, and hovers over her untouched tea long enough to allow for objections that she wants it after all before he picks it up. It's lukewarm, by now, so there's no risk of scalding to prevent him from downing half of it.

Maybe he would have downed all of it, but he cuts short and lowers the cup at dragon queen, mildly alarmed and intensely interested in the potential presence of an actual! dragon! queen in Scamander's house, and of course her eating habits and magic aversion.

Sirius beats him to asking, while he's still swallowing, and then tells—well, it's almost a joke, and even if it isn't the funniest thing he's said, any attempt at levity from Sirius Black is going to be getting a smile out of Remus for the foreseeable future, just for the effort. For the fact that it's possible.

Then he realizes it's possibly a mean almost-joke, and his grin dims politely to a faint smile, so he's relatively straight-faced when he says, ] They definitely do, [ which could just be a comment on some personal experience with dragons or any number of other beasts or, sure, tetchy Aurors, rather than a joke that's somewhat more recklessly cheeky.

He finishes the rest of Ms Goldstein's kidnapped tea and stands up to start collecting cups. ]

[goldsteins]

[She shoots Newt a quick, ill-amused look. Gladdening only when the topic shifts even if she looks a little put-out-- No, worried, she's been worried about the man's living arrangements from the beginning but thinks better on saying anything about it.

She'd already met one of them and he didn't seem too awful-- But, well.

Tina catches the tail-end of the joke, brow quirking but she says nothing more on it. For the moment, she hardly seems of the mind to enter this conversation at all. Her dislike to the situation or perhaps the humor goes unmentioned, but she draws a breath all the same.]

I'm sure you'll find much more interest discussing your Dragon Queen. [It's another give that he doesn't have to join her since surely he's more interested in the conversation going here, whatever way it goes. Creases in her brow deepening she manages a nod.] Enjoy your conversation.

[It's said stiffly, but said all the same before she loosens her arms and turns away from the group to retreat towards the door.]

[suffusive]

[ By the time Tina attempts to dismiss him, he already has the vegetables stowed and his coat in one hand, trailing at her heels. The joke earns an amused smile, at least. ]

A mother of dragons, if you can believe that. Doesn't look it, mind, but very thrilling all the same.

[ In a tone that suggests mild mischief rather than outright thrill, but, well, best not to discuss the good queen too much, lest she hears of it and grows tetchier. Fierier? More likely to eat him, at any rate. He remains occupied with concern for Tina, too. Her provision of an escape perplexes him, certainly, striking him almost as a rejection of his company. He follows anyway, offering a parting flourish of a wave to Remus and Sirius. ]

I'll be sure to [ a pause as he recalls the word. ] telephone if she starts breathing fire from across the way — I live just across the street, as it happens. [ walking and slipping his coat on at the same time. ] So, you know where to find me.

[ tacked on in the event his new dog friends are looking for him!! ]