⠀      ❀᭢᜴꤬ ⠀ ⠀   𝓟𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ⠀ ⠀ ི᭨ᩧྀ ⠀ ⠀ ⏖

❝ You know, I think you'll
write a book one day. ❞

The Hogwarts Express
- Scottish Highlands
( June 30th, 1914)

𝑻he Hogwarts Express sped through the countryside, its steady rhythm blending with the faint hum of conversation and laughter from other compartments. Inside one cozy, sunlit compartment, Sabine Du Lac and Newt Scamander sat together, the easy companionship between them underscoring the end of an extraordinary year.

Sabine leaned her head against the window, watching the rolling hills blur into one another. Her fifth year at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of challenges. Transferring from Beauxbatons had been more daunting than she'd anticipated, and her first day felt like being thrust into an arena with no armor.

The Hogwarts students had stared at her, some with curiosity, others with outright disdain. Her French accent marked her as different, and her English—though improving—was still halting, leaving her feeling tongue-tied and vulnerable. The weight of her secret made it worse. The fact that she was a werewolf, forced to endure the painful transformations each full moon, loomed over her constantly. And alone at that. No one at Beauxbatons had ever found out, but she had lived in constant fear that someone at Hogwarts might.

Her sister, Soleil, had assured her it would be fine, that Hogwarts would be a fresh start, but Sabine had her doubts. The memory of her final year at Beauxbatons, when a near-incident had almost exposed her secret, was still fresh. It was why she had been sent away. To protect her. But it felt more like a punishment.

The start of term had been miserable until Newt.

She glanced at him now, hunched over his notebook, muttering something about bowtruckles under his breath. His hair was a mess of soft curls, and his tie had been discarded somewhere, leaving his shirt slightly rumpled. He looked so at ease in his element, and she found herself smiling at the sight.

Her mind wandered back to their first encounter at Hogwarts.

It had been the second day of term when Newt approached her. She was sitting alone in the courtyard, her hands wrapped around a book she wasn't reading, trying not to let the stares from her classmates bother her.

"Bonjour," he had said tentatively, his pronunciation clumsy but endearing.

Sabine looked up, startled. She had recognized him as the boy who had spoken up in Defense Against the Dark Arts the day before, confidently explaining the behavior of grindylows to a skeptical professor.

"Bonjour," she replied, her voice cautious.

Newt hesitated, then sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance. "I thought... maybe you could use some company?" he ventured, his words uncertain but sincere.

Sabine blinked, unsure how to respond. Most students had ignored her completely. "You... speak French?" she asked, her English shaky.

"Not really," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "But I'm trying to learn."

Her lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "Why?"

"Well," he said, glancing at her shyly, "I thought it might make you feel more at home."

That small act of kindness had been enough to shatter her walls. From then on, Newt became her first friend at Hogwarts. He introduced her to his world of magical creatures, a world where she could momentarily forget the heavy burden of her secret. In turn, she began to open up—just a little—and let herself enjoy his company.

Now, as the train rumbled on, Newt was rambling about a niffler he had seen on the grounds a few days before, his voice animated as he gestured to a sketch in his notebook. Sabine tilted her head, watching him with an amused smile.

"You really do adore these creatures," she said, her voice warm.

"They're misunderstood," he replied earnestly. "People see their quirks as nuisances instead of gifts. Take nifflers, for instance—they're—"

"—incredible treasure hunters," Sabine finished, moving from her seat to join him on his side of the compartment.

Newt looked up at her, surprised, as she leaned in to peer at the page he was pointing to. "You've been paying attention," he said softly.

"Of course," she replied.

Her shoulder brushed against his as she leaned closer, and when their hands accidentally touched on the edge of the notebook, she felt him freeze. She glanced at him, catching the faint pink flush creeping up his neck.

"You're blushing," Sabine teased, her tone light as her lips curved into a playful smile.

"Am not," Newt protested quickly, though the pink spreading across his cheeks betrayed him.

Sabine tilted her head, laughter dancing in her eyes. She leaned back slightly, her fingers brushing the spine of his notebook as if to add to his flustered state. "Don't worry, Scamander," she said softly, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "I don't bite."

The color in his cheeks darkened impossibly further, and Newt's fingers fumbled with the edge of his notebook, his gaze dropping back to the page. "I, uh... niffler nests. They, um, they-"

"You're very passionate about what you love, Newt. It's admirable." She interrupted.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he forgot he was so flustered. "Thank you," he said quietly.

She tilted her head, her gaze studying him. "You know," she said suddenly, "I think you'll write a book one day

Newt blinked at her, startled, before a laugh escaped his lips. "A book? Me?"

"Yes, you," Sabine said with a playful smirk. She tapped the page in his notebook lightly. "You already write so much about your creatures. Why not share it with the world?"

Newt ducked his head, fiddling with the edge of his notebook. "I don't think anyone would want to read it," he murmured, his voice laced with self-doubt.

Sabine frowned slightly and shifted closer, her knee brushing his. "That's not true," she said firmly. "You see the world differently, Newt. You see the beauty in creatures that most people overlook—or fear."

He glanced up at her, his expression tentative. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," she said, her voice softening. "And one day, I think you'll help people see what you see. You'll make them understand that—"

"There are no strange creatures," Newt said suddenly, as if by reflex.

"—only blinkered people," Sabine finished with a knowing smile, her voice slipping into perfect sync with his.

Newt stared at her, his lips parting slightly in surprise. "You... you know that?"

Sabine leaned back slightly, her grin playful but her eyes warm. "Of course I do. I've heard you say it at least five times this year. It's practically your mantra."

He looked down, his cheeks coloring again. "I suppose it is."

"I like it," she said simply.

Newt glanced at her, his brows furrowing slightly as if he couldn't quite figure her out. "Why do you spend so much time listening to me ramble?" he asked suddenly, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Sabine shrugged, her gaze drifting to the sketch in his notebook. "Because I like the way your mind works," she said, her voice quieter now. "You have a way of making everything feel... less I don't know overwhelming."

Newt blinked, taken aback by her honesty. He wasn't used to people appreciating him for his eccentricities. Most of the time, they made him feel isolated. But with Sabine, it was different. She didn't just tolerate his quirks—she seemed to value them.

The moment lingered between them, the sound of the train fading into the background. Sabine's gaze met his, and she offered a small, lopsided smile.

"I think you're brilliant, Newt," she said softly.

He swallowed, his throat feeling unreasonably tight. "Thank you," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sabine leaned back slightly, breaking the intensity of the moment. "Now," she said, her tone lighter, "tell me more about this niffler. You were saying something about its nest?"

Newt hesitated for only a second before diving back into his explanation, his voice regaining its usual enthusiasm. Sabine listened, her chin resting on her hand, her smile lingering as she watched him come alive in the way only his creatures could make him.

The sun began to dip lower in the sky as the train drew closer to King's Cross Station, and Sabine found herself wishing the journey could last just a little longer.

Platform 9¾
- London, England
( June 30th, 1914)

            𝑺abine watched as Newt lifted her trunk down from the overhead rack. He set it gently onto the floor, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and Sabine couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. He had a way of making even the simplest tasks seem thoughtful.

Without thinking much, she stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. His body went still for a moment, as if surprised, before his arms instinctively wrapped around her. His hands settled on her waist, firm but gentle, and the contact sent a sudden warmth flooding through her chest.

The moment hung between them, neither saying anything, but the world outside the compartment felt distant and muffled. There was just the soft rush of air between their bodies and the steady beat of her heart that somehow seemed to sync with his. Sabine didn't want to pull away, but the reality of the approaching stop and the busyness of the hallway outside their compartment began to settle in.

They pulled apart slightly, enough to meet each other's eyes.

"Goodbye," Newt whispered, his voice barely audible above the hum of the train.

"Goodbye," Sabine murmured back, her voice a little thicker than usual, as she turned to gather her things.

The train screeched to a halt, and students began to file out in waves. There were exclamations of joy, greetings, and farewells, families eagerly calling out names in search of their children. Sabine looked through the window, searching for Sol, and her gaze quickly found the familiar glow of her sister's wand, raised high above the crowd with a soft blue light emanating from the tip.

Sabine's heart lightened at the sight, and she maneuvered through the throngs of students, eager to join her sister. She slid her bags onto the ground and took a few quick steps forward, her arms opening as she wrapped them around Sol's neck in a tight embrace.

Sol's wand lowered as she returned the hug, pulling Sabine close, her face burying in the crook of her neck. Sabine could feel the relief flood through her at the familiar comfort.

"Je suis ravie de vous voir!" Sabine exclaimed, pulling back to look at her sister with a wide grin. "Personne ne parle français à Hogwarts." (It's nice to see you!" Sabine exclaimed, pulling away. "No one speaks French at Hogwarts.")

Sol scrunched her nose, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. "Vous avez certainement de la chance de m'avoir, alors." ("You sure are lucky to have me, then.")

Sabine laughed, her heart settling with the sound of her sister's voice. "Oui," she agreed, before sighing in relief. "I missed you, Sol."

"I missed you as well." Sol cupped Sabine's face in her hands, tilting it gently down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Perhaps I shall pull you out of Hogwarts and train you myself. Then you will never see the end of me," she joked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Sabine pulled back slightly, a small frown on her lips. "I would rather stay," she said softly, her gaze flicking back to the platform.

"Oh, really? As-tu trouvé le grand amour, Sabine?" Sol asked, her voice bubbling with mischief. ("Oh, really? Have you found true love, Sabine?")

Sabine raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Can't a girl just adore her new school?"

Sol leaned in closer, her tone taking on a playful edge. "Perhaps, perhaps," she said. "But I guess that the blush that started the moment I said amour has nothing to do with your classes."

Sabine awkwardly laughed, her eyes darting across the platform as she tried to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. Sol followed her gaze, immediately spotting the boy who had been on her mind for much of the year. She saw Newt standing just a few paces away, his attention diverted, and she felt her heart skip a beat as his eyes briefly met hers.

"That one?" Sol exclaimed, her voice carrying a hint of surprise. "How do you know him? He doesn't even go to Hogwarts!"

Sabine blinked, confused for a moment as she tried to follow Sol's gaze. Then, realization hit, and her face softened. "Ah, you must be speaking of his brother, Theseus, I believe. I'm talking of Newt." Her voice was quieter, her heart racing in her chest. "Do you know Theseus?"

Sol's mouth forms into a line. "Sabine, I hope you do not marry Newt."

Sabine flushed at the thought, her cheeks flushing pink, "why not?"

Sol nodded, smirking. "I told his brother I didn't speak English."

"Sol!" Sabine scolded, but her laughter couldn't be hidden. It bubbled out, a smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head in mock exasperation.

"Well, come on, then," Sol said, picking up one of Sabine's bags and shifting it over her shoulder. "We won't Apparate back home—I got a car while you were gone." She started walking toward the exit, Sabine following closely behind.

"A car?" Sabine asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. "A non-magique car?"

Sol glanced over her shoulder, an amused glint in her eyes. "Of course a non-magique car! What do you expect it to do, fly?"

Sabine couldn't help but smile as they moved through the crowd, passing the Scamanders on the way out. But before their voices faded into the cacophony of students, she caught the sound of Theseus speaking to Newt. "So her sister can speak English?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Sabine couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest. She was already looking forward to the summer ahead—yet, in the back of her mind, Newt's shy smile and the warmth of his hug lingered like an unspoken promise.