I really enjoyed Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. However, I wanted to write a version of the story that really reflects the difference in politics and cultural dynamics between the United States and Britain and went where Rowling seemed somewhat hesitant to go. This is going to be darker than Fantastic Beasts, but hopefully more in tune with rational magical politics. Also, yes, Percival Graves existed outside of Grindelwald pretending to be him because let's be real, Grindelwald has better things to do then spend all his time romping around New York playing cop.

Percival Graves considered the woman sitting across from him. From the irritated look she gave him, she didn't quite appreciate his consideration. He had to make a small note of admiration however. She hadn't flinched or tried to escape. She'd surrendered her wand willingly and marched to his office on command. Still, she didn't look particularly remorseful- and considering her crime, she really should have at least tried.

"Miss Goldstein," he said, rolling his name off her lips. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Porpetina Goldstein (Tina to her friends, not that she had many) tilted her head at him. Her brown hair swung in its tight cut bob.

"I wanted to help them," she said. "That shouldn't be a crime."

"I'm afraid what is a crime and what isn't is not your jurisdiction," Percival said. "But I didn't want to talk about how you fed some No-Maj orphans bread for a year before being caught. I want to talk about their adoptive mother."

Tina stilled for a moment. Percival smiled. It wasn't a very friendly smile- he was rather fond of the chilling effect it had.

"Mary Lou Barebone disappeared a year ago. It was rather fortuitous as you know- she seemed fanatical enough to go on a purge of those she suspected, even if no sane No-Maj would take her seriously. But you know that, don't you Miss Goldstein?"

Tina was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again her voice was low.

"What do you want?" she asked. Percival smiled wider.

"I don't care that you killed some fanatic No-Maj," he said. "Nor do I care that you cultivated some sort of illegal maternal relationship with a few useless orphans in an attempt to pay for your perceived sins. But both you and I know that what you did will mean the end of your career of your Auror."

Tina raised an eyebrow.

"Unless you help me?"

"Unless indeed," Percival said. He leaned over the dark oak desk and clasped Tina's hands in his. They shook slightly in his grasp. So she wasn't quite as calm as she looked. More the use for him. "Unless we can both help each other."

Tina took a deep breath.

"What do you need me to do?"

A few hours later and sunlight had transitioned to night. Percival finished stacking the papers on his desk (the piles of paperwork to do were getting dangerously high) and leaned against the window for a minute. The glass felt freezing cold to the touch. Across the street lamps started lighting in windows.

"Hello Percival," Leta said. He did his best to hide his flinch.

"Leta," he said, not turning to greet her. "You really should knock." Leta Lestrange made her way over to the table, the scraping of the chair behind the desk as she pulled it out to sit down hurting his ears. He turned around to face her. She propped her dragon hide boots up on his desk. Unlike American wizards and witches, Leta had refused to adopt No-Maj apparel while visiting the states. Her robes were traditionally cut from fine black fabric. It made Percival glad he had worn his bespoke suit that day.

"I'll be out of your hair soon enough," she said. "Just thought I'd come by for a chat before my ship sails."

"I'm sure you have nothing but the most benign of intentions."

Leta smiled at him. Her smile was kind, the sort to make any heart warm. Her smile made Percival wary. With a careful flip of her robe she lowered her feet from the desk and made her way next to him. She placed an exquisitely manicured hand on his arm.

"I just wanted to make sure we left on the same page. I'd hate for any misunderstandings to occur."

Percival resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

"The Magical Congress isn't going to get involved. We both know that."

Leta bit her lip and looked up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. If he'd been particularly inclined towards women, it might even have worked.

"Politicians flow to the will of the people. The people hold the power."

"And the power is growing restless at its chains. Still, no one cares about Europe's troubles. They may be scared, but they don't care about something a sea away. No need to worry yet. You can tell your master that."

Leta pouted at him.

"He isn't my master any more than he is yours."

"Good luck defending that in court," Percival drawled. Leta sighed.

"Keep me updated on the sentiment of your citizens. We will both need allies in the fight ahead," she said. Percival nodded. She smiled at him again, rather cheekily. "For the Greater Good."

"May your war be over soon."

"And may yours."

At that statement, Percival looked sharply at her. How had she- With a wink Leta spun on one foot and disappeared. Rubbing his head Percival settled back down behind his desk. In the center where Leta had placed it sat the memo she must have seen. In flashing large font the header was hard to miss.

Navajo Magical Nation harboring fugitives. President Piquery will consider military action tomorrow.

Newt Scamander was easily flustered. One might even say it was a common trait of his. He preferred to say he simply cared a lot. Still, he rather thought that chasing an escaped Niffler down the busy streets of New York would make anyone flustered. As he dashed past, bumping into people (one woman smashed him over the head with a handbag in protest) he could feel his case thumping with energy besides him.

"Merlin's beard," he muttered as he spotted the Niffler emerging out of a woman's pocket holding a diamond broach. He took a deep breath and leaned back. Then, with a quick hop he knocked her over, spilling her purse to the ground and grabbing the Niffler at the same time, stuffing her under his jacket.

"Thief!" the lady screamed. Her dress had been most likely beautiful at one point- now dung and various filth from the street stuck to the blue silk. "Thief!"

"Now that's just rude-" Newt began then dove to the ground as she swung her bag at his head, still screaming. "Silencio." The woman continued screaming, but nothing could be heard.

"Now what's the problem here?" a tall man in a constable uniform asked, looking down at Newt. "Stealing from respectable citizens?" The constable's rather bushy brown mustache twitched as spoke. With a quick heave he lifted Newt off the ground and pulled his arms tight behind his back. Newt struggled but his wand slipped deeper into his pocket. "I'll take care of this ma'am."

A few more steps and Newt had been pulled into the alleyway. As pedestrians moved away from the amusing scene the alley emptied and it was just Newt and the constable. The constable let go of Newt's arms, shoving him against the cobblestone wall and the pigeon dung coating it, briefcase falling to the ground. With a quick slide Newt darted his hand into his pocket to grab his wand.

"Expelliarmus," the constable said with a much higher voice. As Newt watched in amazement his darted into the rapidly changing hand of the constable. A quick wave of the constable's wand and the air around them shimmered with a cloaking spell. Another wave and the constable's face melted into the stern face of a woman with a no-nonsense brown bob.

"Mr. Scamander, I believe?" she asked. Newt nodded. "My name is Auror Goldstein. You are under arrest."

The little brown house had seen better days. It had seen worse days too. It had seen days of children being forcibly dragged away from screaming parents. It had seen days of men in official suits calmly Avada-ing warriors one by one in a line. But this day, it was seeing a war council in progress.

At the head of the table, Yanaha looked grimly at the map in front of her. With a nod, the man next to her sliced open his palm. With a few drips of blood on the parchment, the scene began to draw itself.

"They're coming," Shilah said, blood still dripping from his palm. "We should have never taken the girl in."

"They took our children. A whole generation lost," Yanaha said. "One girl taken in for safety will never equal that."

In the corner, Queenie Goldstein watched quietly as the war council met. Next to her Jacob stood there, hand clutched in his.

"I won't let them take you," he whispered to her. "I won't."

Queenie smiled at him, or tried to. If her smile seemed forced, Jacob couldn't tell. His determination to protect her swirled at the top of his mind. So easy to read. She'd loved that once. Someone who didn't try to hide his thoughts from her, who embraced her not for her powers but for her.

"We all know they're not coming for me," Queenie said, her voice soft. "They're coming because of what they want."

Yanaha twisted her mouth into a sneer, not at Queenie so much as at the world that had been taken from her people so long ago.

"We are not kidnappers. We are not the massacrers," she said. Queenie nodded.

"You are brave," she said.

"No thanks to your kind," Shilah said, his voice cold. At Yanaha's look he subsided. "We expect you to fight with us."

"Don't they all," Queenie said, then nodded. "My wand is at the disposal of the Navajo Nation."

"We don't need your wand," Yanaha said. "We need your Legilimency."

Next chapter: Newt is confused, Tina is conflicted, and Queenie and Yanaha prepare to fight a war. If you enjoyed this, please review! I treasure all comments.