By fifth year, Theseus started having second thoughts.

His mind had matured and he observed how younger children acted. Newt was now seven and Theseus hoped he would grow out of his quiet phrase. He never did.

Newt spoke only when he wanted to. On good days, he would call for his family to help him. On bad days, he said nothing at all. When Theseus was back for the summer, he realised it was going to be a bad one.

He received news from his mother that Newt had been bullied. In an attempt to get Newt to socialise, his mother continued to invite kids to the house to play with him, or get Newt to attend playdates elsewhere. Because Newt never admitted, no one knew the children were treating him badly. In front of the adults, they held Newt's hand as though he was their best friend. Behind their backs, they laughed and pointed at him, mocking him for his lack of speech. When Theseus read that, he was furious. Newt only spoke when he needed to. In a way, Theseus thought it was smart. He was saving the trouble of having to converse with idiots. But it got too far.

The bowtruckle was squashed by one of the kids.

Newt ignored everyone. Theseus thought it was normal, since it was a loss and it was normal to feel sad about it. The problem was that it extended from days to two weeks, then two and a half, then three. His mother was beyond worried and his father had tried everything. That was when Theseus felt that something didn't feel right.

He remembered experiencing losses during his childhood. The first was his pet tortoise who had died of old age. He sulked and cried, but never for that long. Theseus likened his case to Newt's, because the tortoise had been around for as long as Newt's bowtruckle, and Theseus was around the same age as Newt was now. He got over it, because his mother told him that it was in a better place. It was happy there.

His mother did the same with Newt, but she only made it worse. It was time for Theseus to step in.

Newt was tall enough to hoist himself onto the tree, and that was his favourite hiding spot. One summer day, when the sun was hiding behind the clouds, Theseus climbed up. There was Newt, very much deep in his thoughts.

"Newt," Theseus began, "It's been three weeks."

His brother did not turn. He continued.

"Your bowtruckle has already gone to a happy place, and it's really happy."

He heard Newt sniff and saw him rub his eye, but still no words came out of his mouth.

"There's food and water and he has plenty of friends to play with. He's going to be okay."

"She doesn't have me."

Theseus stopped, shocked that his brother had finally spoken, not to his mother, not to his father, but to him.

"She was the only one that understood me."

It would have been a lie if Theseus didn't say he felt hurt.

"How about Mum? And Dad?"

He set Newt off. He was crying again, yet he was still talking.

"They don't. They never do. They make me do things I don't want to. They take away the things I like."

"How about me?"

Rarely, Newt could maintain eye contact, but this time, he held it. It was a sign, a signal to urge Theseus to continue.

"I try to understand, don't I?" Theseus said, thinking through his words carefully, "I know you don't like being around people. You like it quiet, like night time. Remember the stars?"

His younger brother paused, he seemed to be considering. As a gamble, Theseus added, "You like creatures and you show them to me. I like them."

Amongst the tears, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Theseus gave him a reassuring smile, "I like your bowtruckle. I really did."

"Then why aren't you sad?"

Theseus didn't know what to say. He tried, but nothing came out. The one chance of cheering Newt up vanished as Newt climbed down the tree, leaving him alone.

He was in so much trouble with Newt now. He couldn't sleep that night. He wrote a letter to Newt and put it on his table, apologising over and over again. He laid back in bed, the cogwheels in his mind turning. He decided to look from an outsider's point of view. How would others view Newt?

Weird. Strange. Too quiet. Too held up with his beasts. Never hangs out with anyone other than his brother. Hardly responds to anyone.

Not right.

And that's when it hit him. Maybe his mother was right. Newt was never like the other kids, and he never will be.

—

Him graduating from Hogwarts meant Newt entering Hogwarts. Both of them had grown, but the differences remained.

It was no longer a secret by the time Newt was eleven. Everyone knew he was different. They always said he wasn't normal. Every single Christmas party, every single family gathering, someone would mention it. Of course, Newt was never around to hear it, so he never knew.

Unfortunately, the secret was exposed to him the day before school started. The worst was that Newt heard it from his very own mother.

All through summer, his mother was worried for Newt. She was afraid he would be bullied like before, she was afraid he couldn't fit in, and she was definitely afraid of receiving an owl on the first day to bring Newt home. Theseus had comforted her many, many times that Newt would be fine, but deep down, he was conflicted. Would Newt really be alright?

They were in the kitchen, or more specifically, his parents were. His father and mother were going to send Newt off the next day, and Theseus would tag along as well. He always wanted to send Newt off. That was the plan.

Newt was going down for a drink when he heard sobbing. Someone was crying and someone was comforting. He almost budged in, and stopped only when he heard his name.

"I can't stop worrying for Newton. What if he can't-"

"Love, we talked about this a million times."

Newt stayed perfectly still and quiet, something he was a professional at. Why was his mother worried? What can he not do? And why was it talked about so many times?

"And nothing has changed! Everything we've tried didn't work, and now that we've accepted it-"

"He will be fine. You've seen how he's improved these few years."

Improve. That's good. Newt has done something good and his father was somewhat pleased. Was he pleased?

"He's still different, he's not normal!"

Newt's heart stopped beating for a good ten seconds. What did they mean that he's not normal? He looked just like them, like Theseus, and that wasn't normal?

"He hasn't been since he was a child. Everyone knows this, we just never accepted it."

That was enough for Newt. He silently backed away from the kitchen and back to his bedroom where he felt most comfortable. He looked around. There were creatures in tanks and jars, and his dissected parts were under the table where his mother couldn't see. This wasn't normal? But he's always been like this.

Newt stayed in his room for the rest of the day.

—

It was still dark, the sun wasn't up yet, but Theseus was wide awake. He did sleep for the night, he woke up because something didn't feel right.

Theseus put on a shirt and crept out of his room. He stopped at his younger brother's door and listened for any sound of his breathing. Why he did that he didn't know, perhaps it was instinct, but Newt was never known to be loud, so what was the point? He turned the doorknob.

There was a lump on the bed, but no sign of Newt's chest moving. Theseus crept back to his room to grab his wand.

"Lumos."

The tip of his wand lit up the room, and Theseus realised that Newt had gotten very good at hiding his tracks. The lump was just his pillow. The bed was cold and empty.

He looked over to the door where Newt often left his clothes. The turquoise jacket was the only missing item. Theseus exited the room and headed for the garden where the old tree stood.

The sky was starting to brighten, but the sun had not risen. Theseus inhaled the fresh morning air that he always enjoyed as he stepped out into the yard. He saw a shadow among the trees. He extinguished the light on his wand and climbed. The sight of a curled up Newt greeted him.

"Newt, what're you doing here?" asked Theseus as he found a comfortable sitting position, "Too excited for school, huh?"

As Newt slowly turned around, Theseus realised that he was far from excited. Although faint, he still saw the redness in his eyes. Before Theseus could ask, Newt spoke.

"Theseus, am I normal?"

His eyes were pleading for an answer, honest or not, Theseus wasn't sure. It broke his heart to see his brother so upset on the day he was supposed to be happiest.

"W-What makes you say that?"

Theseus could tell Newt was trying his best not to cry, but his voice broke in the end, "Mum said that I'm not normal. She said everyone knew."

"When did you hear that?"

"Yesterday," Newt whispered, "Did you know?"

Of course Theseus knew what his parents thought, but what was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to lie, or be honest?

He could see a ball of red and orange streaks across the sky. Theseus steadied himself, "Yes."

Newt blinked, allowing a tear to escape. He tried to look away, but Theseus wouldn't let him.

"But I don't think you're abnormal."

Theseus pushed away the thoughts of everyone saying Newt was strange.

There was nothing wrong with Newt learning to walk before crawling. There was nothing wrong with Newt being a boy of little words. There was nothing wrong with being mesmerised by lights, natural or not.

"You're different," Theseus affirmed, "But that's good."

He remembered the nightly star-gazing sessions. He remembered hiding out in a bush with Newt. He remembered how he and Newt hung out in a tree, playing with the bowtruckle that Newt had loved.

"I've had the best memories with you being different."

So what if Newt refused to interact with other kids? So what if Newt preferred his creatures over humans? And so what if Newt was never like the others?

"There's nothing wrong with you, Newt, absolutely nothing."

And on cue, Theseus hugged his brother. This time, Newt didn't try to escape. He stayed in the embrace, in the warmth of the only person who accepted his differences.

When he let go, Theseus wiped the tears on Newt's face. The sun was now visible, and its rays seeped through the gaps in the leaves.

"You, Newton Scamander, are going to show Hogwarts that your difference makes you, you. Don't let anyone change that, and don't worry."

Newt smiled, and that was all Theseus needed.

Yes, he's not normal, but he's not abnormal. He's just different.

There was nothing wrong with him.

Nothing wrong.

~
For my brother, you will grow up to be brilliant in your own way