01 | a twist in fate

ACCORDING TO DOROTHY, the bookshop on the corner of Blossom Boulevard was the best place to work. Old Les Livres de Belle, which had been established in America in 1882, was a quiet place that didn't get much business, but was a second home to Dorothy. Growing up with the quiet of her room, it reminded her of that time - but now she had freedom.

It had dust covered book shelves with stories dating back hundreds of years, and dimmed lite lamps with rose stained glass on all of the wooden tables. Papers scattered the desk at which Dorothy sat behind and collected dust because they were all ancient. The smell of fresh books and cigarette smoke filled the air, sometimes making it hard to breathe.

And then there was a photograph of the owner and his wife. It was old, taken at last a century back in France where the first of the bookshops originated. It was of a man in his twenties with his wife, standing in their backyard and holding an infant in their arms.

The story of the couple was tragic. Dorothy didn't know every detail herself, seeing as her boss was an old man whose memory didn't uphold the greatest. She did know that he was a tailor and his wife, named Belle, was a bookworm who collected them. When she died after giving birth to their second child (a boy named Bertram, she had learned that from Gideon one night when he had a little too much wine), he quit his job as a tailor and opened Les Livres de Belle in her memory.

It wasn't anything special. Nothing grand about it, unlike most of the new and upcoming businesses with their flashy lights and dancers. No, this was plain, traditional and a bit sad if you asked Dorothy's friend, Diana. "It's tragic in here, Dory," she once commented when she came to visit, picking Dorothy up from work. The wooden chairs often squeaked and the wooden floors, which had been placed when the business began, creaked and sent chills down Dorothy's spine when she was in the bookstore alone in the dark.

The bookshop was run by an old man by the name of Gideon Grinwell who had been a mere worker when the place first opened. But now that the first owner had retired, and died only one year ago, Gideon walked into the building with a hunched back and all his weight on his cane.

"I'm telling you, Doornail," he grumbled to Dorothy, "Taxi business ain't nothing here."

It was partially true. Half of the taxi drivers in New York were scam artists who would pay a little too much to end up on the wrong side of town, and the other half didn't understand English. But Dorothy knew when to spot a scam artist, telling them the wrong place so that she would end up near the right place, and she had learned other languages to better communicate with people. She liked asking strangers about random things while in the taxi, letting them vent while she soaked it all up, because Dorothy James did not rant or complain...that often, or often enough for it to spill into what she often received.

But to an old man like Gideon, they could easily scam him and add to his never-ending anger at the world. Dorothy often wondered how his wife, as sweet and caring as she was, could stand him - and stand him for more than fifty years. Dorothy always hoped she didn't end up with anyone like Gideon.

The strawberry blonde, though many would argue and say she was a redhead, laughed quietly to herself. "What happened this time? And my name is Dorothy."

"Whatever," he waved his bony hand, "they took me to the other side of the city! It's like they're deaf, I tell you!"

"Maybe you weren't speaking loud enough," she offered, making her way over to the old man to help him into his office. Dorothy liked people, and she didn't want to believe something wrong of them if she had not seen it herself. So, she defended the cab driver who had, supposedly, wronged Gideon because she liked looking on the bright side of things.

Once there, he plopped down into his large, leather chair, creating a large noise that startled him before he turned to the patient girl, "No, no. I speak clear enough for them, they're all just idiots! All of them!"

The office wasn't the largest, but it was a smudge bigger than her bedroom at home. It gave off a warm feel, made you think that it was full of love and cheer. Really, though, the person behind the desk was hostile and mean (if he really wanted to).

(And he really wanted to most of the time. The world was too bad for him to be good, apparently. Something she also learned after three cups of whiskey last Christmas.)

Dorothy smiled at him, not thinking much about his grouchiness since it had been getting worse with his age. When she first arrived there, a young girl in her twenties looking for a job, he could offer you a smile before completely bashing you. Now, he just cut out the smile.

"I'm just glad you're not like that, Deanna," the redhead muttered 'Dorothy', not that it really mattered to him. Gideon was constantly messing up her name, never bothering to remember it, but Dorothy always reminded him - not that he ever listened to her.

Dorothy was about to give him an actual reply when the bell rang, signaling that someone had walked into the quaint bookshop. It was quite unusual for someone to wander in, mostly people looking for directions made their way inside. She gave the old man a polite smile before leaving the office, and closing the door because if not she would be yelled at, and went back to the front.

"Make sure to lock the damn door!" He still yelled behind her.

It wasn't a long walk, maybe five steps before she was brought to the opening of the place. Dorothy saw her friend, Tina, pacing around the shop like a mad woman with her arms flailing and a bewildered look on her face - which was quite unusual for the woman actually doing it.

"Tina," Dorothy called, stopping the girl's rampage.

"Oh, Dorothy!" She cried, "I know I shouldn't bother you, you are at work, but -"

"No one's here anyways," the strawberry blonde smiled sweetly, bringing her friend a section of the small bookstore with a reading area.

There was one couch with many colorful pillows strewn about and a large, plushy chair on the right side. The last chair, on the left side of the large couch, was an arm chair that, according to Dorothy and everyone who had the displeasure to sit on it, was high uncomfortable. There was an old fireplace as well, the building (before being Les Livres de Belle) was an old folks home before it went out of business. And supposedly their favorite spot was by the fire.

Tina turned to the strawberry blonde with a distressed look on her face, "I have to work to work today."

"You have to go work today?" Dorothy repeated with a blank face, not knowing how to respond to her. She too didn't like waking up early to open the little shop, nor did she like having to close it, but Dorothy never complained...that much. But Tina, Tina Goldstein loved her job. Really, she depended on it. It was her lifeline, the thing that gave her a sense of identity.

The brunette woman rolled her eyes and stood up from her seat on the sofa, "You don't understand!"

"Of course I don't understand!" Dorothy cried, and she was sure that Gideon, as old as he was and as deaf as he was, could hear her. "You haven't really given me an explanation!"

"I haven't gone to work since the incidence," Tina hissed, causing Dorothy to retract and her muscles to relax.

"Tina," she began, her voice filled with remorse and simpathy, "I didn't know."

The incident was not to be spoken about. It was a forbidden topic unless Tina brought it up herself, but even then it was dangerous territory. Her life had been set back from it and the once confident Porpentina Goldstein seemed to disappear. Queenie said to was like Ilvermorny all over again, dampening Dorothy's spirits even more.

"I know, I didn't want to tell you because you worry too much," Dorothy was about to argue but Tina threw her a pointed look, "You do. You're the type to see a leaf on the ground and worry how many times it'd been crushed by on-lookers!"

"I can't help it, I care about those poor little leaves," Dorothy's lip nudged out as she spoke, "You know, they have feelings as well."

Tina sent her a small smile, a sad smile as well, before returning to her haggard stance. Dorothy was kind and caring, she didn't deserve having to deal with her brokenness.

"I just- I don't know what to do," the woman admitted, crumbling under the gentle touches of her strawberry blonde friend.

"Here's what you need to do," Dorothy said, straightening the two up so that Tina had to look down at her, "You need to walk in there with your head held high and show them you can do anything. Just show up and do the best job you can do."

Tina tried to smile, but her spirits were still low. "I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can!" Dorothy declared loudly, causing a yell from Gideon in the other room, complaining about the loudness. "You are Porpentina Goldstein! You can do anything!"

"Thanks," Tina gave the smaller girl a hug, which she gladly returned. Now a little more confident, Tina went to the oak door with a glass window with print that said Les Livres de Belle before turning back to Dorothy, "By the way, Queenie wants you over for dinner sometime this week."

The strawberry blonde smiled, "Tell her I'm free tomorrow night."

"That would make her very happy," she smiled, now rushing because, "oh, Merlin, look at the time!"

Dorothy laughed, still looking at the spot in which her friend once stood. If there was one thing that everyone knew about Tina Goldstein, it was that she was never late. Yet, today, stressed and anxiety ridden, time seemed to pass by her. But Dorothy knew she would not let her perfect record of being at work twenty minutes before she was supposed be ruined by her return.

So, Dorothy returned to her seat, reading a book about a faraway place with creatures unimaginable. And Dorothy couldn't help but think that she wanted to meet those creatures.

__________

When it became seven in the afternoon, and Dorothy was the last in the shop since Gideon left at five ("If I'm later than this, I won't be fed!" he yelled), the strawberry blonde finally got up from her chair and grabbed her coat from the back. New York was raining and the pitter patter that Dorothy heard from inside the quaint store was nothing like the scene outside.

Rain poured and poured, drenching any man who dared walk the streets. Thankfully, Grive Street was only a fifteen-minute walk from Blossom Boulevard. Closing the shop and taking her umbrella, Dorothy began the walk home.

Her apartment was located in the middle of many others, bright flowers created by Queenie making the brick building stand out from the rest. On the welcome rug inside her home laid the mail from that day, three letters waiting to be opened by Dorothy.

Drying herself off quickly, she brought the letters to her kitchen. The first had her named scribbled in rush, the words mushed together in a string and the curly in 'y'. Smiling to herself, she opened the letter.

Dorothy,

How are you? How's Tina? I heard about what happened, please give her my deepest apology and love, she didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to respond as quickly as usual. Maggie has been a great hassle and I've had to take another job to keep our apartment. It's at a diner, I have to wear a disgusting outfit. But never mind that, I think Margaret likes her babysitter - Greta - more than me. Kidding, I know she loves me!

Also, she's learned how to levitate things! Granted, it's only when she's in a temper, but it's progress. Greta was there one time when it happened, I had to erase her memories. I think suspects something is different about us, but hasn't said anything. I might need to figure that out for myself...

Never mind that, how are you? Your last letter just described your slight irritation with Gideon. But that's not enough for me. Anyone knew in your love life? You need one, because mine is long gone and I need to vicariously live through you. So get on that!

But I have great news! I have been granted time off next month and Maggie and I are going to take a trip to your house, if that is alright with you!

With love,
Diana

A smile formed at the thought of her best friend and favorite goddaughter coming to visit her. It did bring her normal life to a halt (which included waking up at the crack of dawn, eating a bowl of cereal while listening to the radio, walking to work at six to open up the shop), but that didn't really matter all too much when she came to think of it.

But there was another letter addressed to Dorothy of 237 Grive Street, with handwriting she had never seen before. She knew it wasn't her bills, they didn't leave anything to address her other than The Crazy Girl in 237 Grive Street. So who could it be?

With the flick of her wand, which she always carried in the pocket of her coat, the letter opened. And so, she read.

Miss Dorothy James of 237 Grive Street,

I address this letter to you in hopes you would welcome a friend of mine to New York next month. Introductions are in order here, don't you think? My name is Albus Dumbledore of the wizarding school Hogwarts. If you are wondering how I know that you are a witch, I must say that your parents didn't cover up their hatred for you well enough. You were described as the 'devil child' in their eyes, and many witnesses say that you were weird and unstable.

Also, I had heard they sent you to the boarding school, Howard's Home for Discipline, but sadly, that school does not exist. So simply, I connected the dots.

I have chosen you because you have lived in the city for all of your life and seem like such a host, and I hope you are. An old student of mine, who sometimes contacts me about his travels, has decided to come to New York and I want someone to welcome him and show him around. Also, I preferred someone of magical blood so that you may show him the magical laws of America. It would be quite unfortunate if something were to happen to him.

Since I am not completely convinced you would do this out of the goodness of your heart, although it could be a safe bet, money will be transferred into your Gringotts account if you correspond to say that you will in fact welcome him to America.

Please address your owl to Albus Dumbledore, tell it to find me in Scotland. And lastly, his name is Newt Scamander.

I do hope you take my deal, it would be unwise to let Newt travel in such a largely populated city by himself. But, you must make the choice for yourself, something that I have learned after all my years of teaching and dealing with people.

Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Head of Transfiguration
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Her first thought was to refuse. She had friends coming next month, and a welcoming party for a stranger would not do! Absolutely not, she had work and other duties. What about dinner at the Goldstein's? Or spending time with her best friend of almost two decades, was that not important?

But as she thought of it more, it seemed more appealing. Money, Merlin knew how much she needed it. The old bookshop paid well enough to pay her bills and have some extra pocket money, but not enough to buy that rose gold dress at Rosalie's that she had been eyeing for months, hoping the price would go down. It had been put on display three months ago, and Dorothy had fallen in love. Sadly, it was about a thousand above her price range.

Maybe the money could help buy her something new and pretty, make her feel confident enough to make a move on someone and give Diana the juicy details she's wanted for so long.

Then again, she didn't know what this Newt Scamander would be like. Would he be nice, open to the fact that he'd have to meet many people and adjust his schedule to meet hers? Was he rude, thinking of himself above everyone else? Who was Newt Scamander? Dorothy didn't know.

Alas, she found herself writing a short letter to Dumbledore, saying that she agreed and the location at which she deposited her money. She found her owl, Sherbet (it was one in the morning and she was very hungry, and she was only eleven, when she named her - Dorothy doesn't regret it), attaching the letter and sending her to find Dumbledore.

Maybe she would regret her choice in two days, weeks, or months. But damn, did she really want that dress and a nice reservation at a restaurant for her and Diana. One with champagne and pretty dresses, expensive food and small, overpriced deserts.

And it seemed like all her plans of being normal were going downhill.

•••

question of the day,
have you seen the movie?

answer of the day,
yes! i saw it yesterday and i loved it so much!

also, would you rather a queenie or tina fanfic? and maybe a gay newt one.