000

Against My Nature
Newt/Harry, Timetravel Shenanigans, Canon Divergent

His plan was to avoid changing the timeline. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist if the opportunity presented itself. So he fled to Africa, where opportunity found him instead.

000

Chapter Thirty Three

They couldn't send Mei.

At the last second, Newt remembered that for some completely unfathomable idiotic reason MACUSA had categorised Phoenix as 'Dark Creatures'. Dark. Phoenix. They had actually put Phoenix into the Dark Creatures category.

Harry boggled.

With this in mind, they were literally going to have to smuggle him into the country. Not Amira, who was exempt from needing the Wand Permit papers because she was too young to have need of one just yet, though they were going to have to smuggle her in regardless because the muggle transport system was still segregated. Despite her age, she wouldn't be allowed in any of the Whites Only areas on board the ship, and Newt wandering into the Colour sections was a recipe for disaster.

"It could be worse," Newt attempted to be cheery, only to be treated to a look of amused exasperation from his husband, and one of wary curiosity from their daughter. She was growing up far too fast, and becoming entirely too used to the kind of chaos that followed on the heels of her parents.

"Newt, you do realise I'm going to have to – you know how I handle ship transport," he pointed out before looking pointedly at Amira who was twisting her head in order to glance between them curiously. "Seeing me in that state could prompt an accidental magic outburst before she's ready for it. It would set her recovery back months."

The mythozoologist hummed, pressing his knuckles to his lips. That was of concern, yes. The last thing they wanted to do was undo all of Amira's hard work in getting comfortable with her magic by causing her physical pain with it. Until her channels had properly healed after her Obscurial bursts, using magic would be painful for her, and with her mental state so fragile, if she grew to resent her magic for causing her that pain – then there would be no coming back. He scruffed a hand through his hair.

"What if... you slept through it?" he suggested slowly. Harry tilted his head curiously. "Hear me out. Draught of the Living Death. You sleep through the voyage like that muggle-story of the Princess who went to sleep in that castle after pricking herself on a spinning wheel. When we get to New York, I can wake you up again. That way you can avoid the motion-sickness, Amira won't have to see you in that awful state, and we can secretly smuggle you into the country with ease!" he exclaimed gaining more enthusiasm as he explained his idea.

Harry stared at him, "You... want me to be Sleeping Beauty?" he asked slowly.

"Is that her name? I thought it was some kind of flower?" the Hufflepuff asked. Harry remembered, not for the last time probably, that this was the mid-1920's. Disney did not exist just yet. The tale of Sleeping Beauty as he knew it had not even been concepted by the animators and artists of the massive entertainment corporation.

"I wouldn't know it either way," he dismissed before leaning back against the kitchen counter to think about what Newt was suggesting. Basically putting himself into a controlled coma for the duration of the trip to avoid his astonishingly atrocious motion-sickness, and whatever bad reaction Amira may have as a result of that motion-sickness. It was a good idea. If he was in a magically induced coma, then he wouldn't be able to get motion-sick, the Draught would put him into a complete state of suspension for however long it took to administer the antidote. Which meant that he wouldn't need to eat either. "Do we even have the ingredients for that?" he asked with a frown.

Newt nodded, "Yes. And I'm sure with a little care I can acquire the others." It took Harry a moment, but then he remembered. The creatures. Newt was actually willing to harvest potion ingredients from his creatures – for Harry.

The urge to jump his husband was only tempered by the fact that Amira was still in the room, but judging by the way the Hufflepuff went a bit pink and ducked his head with a pleased grin, it was probably written all over the Gryffindor's face.

Amira wrinkled her nose and returned her attention back to her breakfast, they were making Eyes at each other again.

000

When the ship to New York rolled into Equatorial Guinea's Calatrava port, Harry was already tucked up in bed, sleeping soundly under the affects of the Draught of the Living Death with Amira sat at his side clutching his hand and counting his breaths with Mei perched on her shoulder. They had dosed him that morning after a long talk with the little girl explaining how he got so badly sick on ship journeys, and how because the ship was muggle he couldn't spend it on his broomstick like he had before. So he was going to sleep for it, and when they got to New York he would wake up as if from a nap.

In all honesty, Newt was looking forward to it.

It went without argument that Amira would gravitate much more to Harry than to him, the two had a bond that Newt couldn't compete with due to their Obscurial natures, as well as the pure unfiltered emotional feedback from each other. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't a little jealous of being the one outside looking in. So yes, he was actually looking forward to getting to know the little girl a bit better, to spending some quality time with the child he had come to think of as his own daughter – because Merlin help him if anyone tried to take her away from their little family.

The first day was a quiet one, Amira was very anxious about Harry being asleep, so it was spent mostly in the master bedroom, Newt told her stories about how they first met (heavily edited!), their adventures in China and Africa. He braided her hair, had her draw on spare parchment all manner of outfits he then transfigured for her – she got very excited and eventually abandoned her vigil over the sleeping Gryffindor to show off her new outfits to Dougal and Moriarty who were outside.

She helped him with tending to the creatures, listening attentively as he explained how to take care of them, taught her about potions and healing, even set up a little cauldron for her to make some nutrient potions to feed to a few of the creatures he rescued along with Frank from those smugglers in Egypt.

They had tea-parties, Newt remembered that being a thing that little girls did and set one up, complete with conjured fine china, an array of seats he set each of her stuffed animals into, a few seats were set up for Mor the teddy, Mei, Dougal, Pickett, Moriarty, and even Kermit the kneazle who had become quite protective of Amira during her time in the case. The eight year old had been entirely bewildered by the production, she had never even heard of a tea-party before, but was more than willing to go and get dressed up in her prettiest dress and hat and join him for lunch and drinks and pretend to be a Lady – even if her conversation subjects leaned towards deadly creatures and combat magic applications (she was, without a doubt, his and Harry's daughter – she even wrinkled her nose the same way that Harry did when he heard something he disagreed with but was too polite to point out).

They had snowball fights in the arctic enclosure, and Amira got to build her first ever snowman, that she swiftly decided needed another snowman to be his husband, and a snowgirl to be their daughter. She stole Newt's blue coat, and Harry's red auror robe to dress the two larger snowmen in, and put one of her pink hats on the snowgirl.

Newt wrote some more of his book, finalising several pages of notes while Amira practised her handwriting and reading on the floor beside him – eventually painting a very beautiful landscape picture of an African sunset. She most definitely had talent as an artist, even if Newt's heart ached a little when she told him it was the first sunset she saw outside of her hut with them. The sunset was framed and put up on the wall, it was soon joined by paintings of Mei, Pickett, Moriarty in his little treasure horde, Harry glimmering with golden magic and a smile like sunshine on his face, Newt himself in half-light a campfire at his back and moonlight on his face, a gentle smile and an outstretched hand. He had blushed furiously when she presented that picture to him and asked for it to be framed too.

They made cakes in the kitchen, following the recipe that Harry had written down in his cook book, and made a complete mess of everything – but still ended up with some pretty tasty cookies all the same. They weren't even burnt! They repainted Amira's room her new favourite colour – which was a cheerful ocean blue. And they, of course, ended up making a bit of a mess of Harry himself. His long hair put into braids, with ribbons and beads.

By the time they had arrived in New York, Newt didn't want to climb out of the case in all honesty.

Passing through American customs was about as amusing as it was a little bit nerve-wracking. No matter how used to sneaking past officials he was, it still made his stomach twist a little to be so dishonest, to actively lie to someone's face. Usually he was able to get away without lying, just by... misrepresenting the truth, so to speak.

But still, New York was... incredible.

All this... done by muggles. Thought up, conceived, designed, and built by muggles. It was incredible. And after Africa, and so long on the ship, it was entirely overwhelming. In a good way. It was so lively. Everyone was bustling this way and that, all wrapped up in their lives, living them, loving them. Nature was amazing and beautiful, and hands down, he would pick an unexplored trek of wilderness over a city in a heartbeat, but sometimes it was still nice to take a step into a city like this and see just how incredible humanity could be – instead of how awful. Here, he could see how far they had come, look at the culmination of hardwork, intelligence, ambition, and bravery all rolled into one, all of those core tenants that Hogwarts held in such high regard could all be found in almost everything that humanity had accomplished. The bravery to ask What If, the ambition to do such, the intelligence to figure it out, and the hardwork in making it so.

Just as nature had the power to make him feel small, walking through a city of men was enough to make him feel like a giant.

Amira would have loved this. Newt grinned as he followed the sounds of men and women throughout the city, just soaking it all in even as he distantly searched for a way out of the city – it would be safer to wait until he was out of New York before collecting them both given how this was the seat of MACUSA's power.

"...this great city sparkles with the jewels of man's invention! Movie theatres, automobiles, the wireless, electric lights – all dazzle and bewitch us!" a woman's voice preached from within a crowd. Newt paused curiosly, was there some kind of event? "But where there is light, there is also shadow, friend! Something is stalking our precious city, wreaking destruction and then disappearing without a trace!" the woman's voice continued, carrying easily over the crowds, as if casting a spell over them with the sheer power and conviction of her words.

Newt paused on the fringes of the group, sliding past a group of women to get into a better position to watch. There was a diminutive older woman stood upon the steps just outside the bank, wrapped up warm in a purple coat that he couldn't help but think his mother would have found quite handsome, around her were a number of dour faced men and women holding up banners, a trio of children solemnly handing out leaflets to anyone who even made vague eye-contact.

The Hufflepuff paused, tilting his head as his skin shivered. He had come to trust his instincts over the years, often times his 'sixth sense' had saved his life before his common sense or even his eyes had warned him of anything amiss. So why, now, were his instincts warning him? And what exactly was it they were warning him about?

He didn't feel threatened. But it was definitely something unpleasant...

"We have to fight – join us, the Second Salemers, in our fight!" the woman commanded, lifting a hand to the crowd challengingly. She was quite the public speaker, this tiny matronly woman.

Someone barged into him from behind, falling forward, tripping over his suitcase.

When Harry asked him later how he got himself into such trouble, Newt would firmly place this exact moment as the source of it all. The moment his case latches popped, jarring the mechanism that opened the secondary entrance into the creature enclosures. It didn't open, thank Merlin, no.

But a certain someone did escape.

A certain someone who had been relapsing on his trigger resistance training while Harry had been sleeping. Someone who heard the familiar clink of a coin, and – surrounded by loud noises, strange smells, strange humans, in an obviously muggle area, panicked, and fell straight back into his old bad habits.

All because a rushing muggle tripped over his suitcase.

"Why in the name of Deliverance Dane did you let that thing loose?" the pretty brunette witch demanded plaintively after the utter mess of Moriarty's stealing spree within the bank, the escape of the muggle man who lashed him in the face and hand with a suitcase and fled before he could be properly Obliviated.

He sighed, smiling a little awkwardly at the woman who seemed so worked up over such a little ruckus. "I didn't mean to – he's been falling behind on his rehabilitation, you see. His former owners trained him to grab up anything within sight– "

"You didn't mean to?" the woman echoed sharply, frustrated and disbelieving all at once.

"No," he agreed firmly. He would have never risked Moriarty in such a way.

The woman made a noise of frustration, "You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose! We're in the middle of a situation here!" she hissed frantically before leaning back, inhaling shakily, "I'm taking you in," she decided almost sadly.

"You're taking me where?" he asked, genuinely curious because really, she hardly seemed like- no, he shouldn't make assumptions on people based on their appearance. Harry afterall was perhaps the biggest surprise that anyone could expect.

That was the moment she pulled out a familiar I.D., letting it fall open, "Magical Congress of the United States of America."

She was an auror.

The knowledge ran quicksilver through his mind, she was an auror. He had just performed a severe breach of the Statitute of Secrecy in the middle of New York. In truth, there were at least five muggle witnesses that he should have Obliviated, the bakery man, the one he petrified, and the three security guards who witnessed him apparate out of the bank. Never mind his case, Harry, Amira, and the vast number of magical creatures within. Could he trust his brother's reputation to shield him from backlash, or perhaps he should bank on his international connections and the licences he possessed from the British Ministry giving him allowance for the case and creatures within? His name was well known in China thanks to his and Harry's antics in breaking up the illegal creature markets the Triads controlled, and they had also gained some measure of notoriety within Africa following the Ochuka situation.

"So you work for MACUSA?" he heard his voice asking almost nervously, "What are you, some kind of investigator?"

She hesitated. And not quite nodded, but dipped her head suggestively, making a humming noise that could have been mistaken for confirmation, as she quickly stowed the I.D. card back into her grey coat pockets.

Newt relaxed. That was the reaction of someone who was stepping above their station, whether she was a minor administrator, or a desk-jockey, or the tea-woman remained to be seen, but clearly she wasn't an official-official.

"You wiped his memory, right? The No-Maj with the case?" she asked briskly, almost nervously, jarring him out of his thoughts.

"Um," he managed, trying to think of an appropriate excuse without lying, but clearly not quick enough if the way her whole body seemed to sag.

"That's a Section Three-A, Mister Scamander," she told him, her face falling as she shook his head and grabbed his arm, "I'm taking you in."

The jerk of apparation was incredibly jarring, nothing at all like Harry's smooth twist that felt more like plunging headfirst off a cliff, the woman's technique was like slamming against the surface of water face first and then plunging through with pure force. A powerful witch to be sure, but perhaps not one gifted with an abundance of finesse – or confidence in her skill, thus more apt to use force? Hard to tell.

She hauled him roughly across a busy muggle street, gesturing muggle autos to stop with a hand as she practically manhandled him through the traffic towards a huge sky-scraping building of glass and stone.

"Come on," she commanded briskly, nervously looking around as if she expected to be attacked.

He tried to tug his arm free, but she clamped her hand down hard enough that her nails dug into him even through the thick material of his pressed wool coat, "Sorry, but I do have things to do, actually," he objected semi-forcefully.

She scoffed, "Well, you'll have to rearrange them!" she huffed dismissively as she yanked him across another busy street. "What are you doin' in New York anyway?" she demanded harshly.

He was getting somewhat fed up of her waspish tone in all honesty, "Just passing through," he explained shortly.

"Passing through where?" she demanded as she practically shoved him towards a gentleman in a neat black uniform with shiny golden buttons.

"Arizona. I happened across something that was stolen while I was in Egypt, and intended to see it returned," he explained shortly.

The woman eyed him coolly, and then turned to the man in the uniform, "I got a Section Three-A," she grunted, and Newt watched how the stony faced man didn't say anything or even look at her strangely before he was doing something to the door. He felt a small sting of trepidation, perhaps she wasn't as powerless as he assumed. He sincerely hoped he still had some manner of pull with the British Ministry even after his silence over the last five years during his studies abroad.

"Hey," the auror barked, glaring at him, "The smuggling of stolen goods, even with the intention of returning them, is still classified as a crime. That's a Section Seventeen-B, one through ten depending on the nature of the article."

What he wouldn't give for Harry's gift at spinning truth and lie right now. Because his own efforts seemed to be doing nothing more than getting him deeper into trouble!

000

Goldstein.

This woman was part of the family that Harry considered leaving his potential Dark Lord to?

Well... She was an auror. Former, at least, or so the somewhat humiliating dismissal he witnessed in the Major Investigations Department suggested. He held his tongue out of sympathy as the young woman silently, her ears and the back of her neck stained pink with embarrassment, lead him down to a basement office overcrowded with papers, unmanned enchanted typewriters, and tangling reams of glass pipes that origami mice skittered in and out of – occasionally bumping into each other and breaking out into violent fights that saw one another shredded.

It was a windowless, airless, and practically soulless chamber, Newt couldn't think of many places less cheery in all honesty as he was forced to duck under a low-hanging sign that read 'Wand Permit Office' in neat cursive, clearly hand painted.

Miss Goldstein swallowed hard and swiftly stripped out of her coat and hat, taking a breath and trying to hitch some facsimilie of professionalism back into place as she busied herself with the stacks of papers. Stacks of papers which happened to be unopened Wand Permits.

"So, you got your wand permit? All foreigners have to have them in New York," she declared, sitting on her desk and eyeing him suspiciously.

"I made a postal application weeks ago," he explained, though there was no chance the owl would have reached them. There was also no chance she would be able to find any application within that pile.

"Sca...man...der..." she murmured as she scribbled on her clipboard, "And you were just in Equatorial Guinea?" she asked, having asked him several probing questions on their trip there.

"I've just completed a year in the field." Of Africa and China specifically, but he didn't really class his trips around Europe as being out in the field, not when he could apparate some thirty miles and stay at a Magically inclined Inn whenever he pleased. "I'm writing a book about magical creatures," he explained with a thread of pride in his voice.

She eyed him blandly, "Like – an extermination guide?" she asked flatly.

Anger flushed through him, "No," he bit out, telling himself that he shouldn't have been so surprised or frustrated. Time with Harry had clearly spoiled him. Very very few others felt the same way that he did regarding creature conservation or the environment. "A guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them," he explained briskly, eyeing her intently as he tried to force his tone to remain even and not to shout at her. She was just a product of her upbringing and surroundings, same as everyone else he was trying to educate.

"GOLDSTEIN! Where is she? Where is she? GOLDSTEIN!" a man yelled from somewhere in the darkness over Newt's shoulder.

The Hufflepuff paused, unable to believe his eyes when the young woman practically rolled backwards and dove under her desk out of sight. He couldn't help the silent huff of laughter that escaped him because that was such a Harry-like thing to do. He had even seen his husband do exactly that when Mei had gotten upset at him over something or other and he had tried to hide in that split second as the Phoenix flamed into the room.

A short, skinny man with a rat-like face appeared, everything about him so polished he should have squeaked as he walked, even his hair looked polished, though perhaps that was simply the grease he had used to style it into that... well, Newt wasn't sure what it was, but it was certainly popular amidst the suited population of gentlemen within New York. He didn't exactly see the appeal himself.

"Goldstein," the man grit out, glancing briefly at Newt before glaring at the desk the young woman was hidden behind.

Slowly, looking slightly awkward and very reluctant, the woman surfaced from under her desk and gently set her papers down with the air of a naughty child about to receive a scolding.

The man glared at her, "Did you just butt in on the Investigative Team again?" he demanded almost helpless with anger, the young woman glanced to the side, opening her mouth, only for him to steamroll over her, "Where've you been?"

"What?" Miss Goldstein blurted.

The man looked at Newt with a frown, "Where'd she pick you up?"

He started, "Me?"

He looked at the woman who shook her head, dark eyes pleading as her breath stuttered in her chest. He found himself opening and closing his mouth as he tried to think of something that wouldn't incriminate them both – she was only trying to do her job in dragging him here, she was technically right in doing so, and yes while it was a huge inconvenience, he couldn't fault her for it. Thus he didn't really feel it fair to get her into trouble.

He took too long to answer because the man immediately rounded on Miss Goldstein again, "Have you been tracking them Second Salemers again?"

She ducked her head submissively, "Of course not, sir," she demurred.

And that was when Newt felt all the hair on the back of his neck raise, a second man suddenly appearing out of the darkness with a click of shiny shoe heels on the stone floor.

The first man jumped like a scolded cat, "Afternoon, Mister Graves, sir!"

0000

I know, it's an update after five months, I'm so sorry. Rest assured this fic isn't dead, it's just fighting me tooth and nail. Also, I may have gotten distracted with other fics, and moving house (yes again, but we're locked into this place for two years so I look forward to not going anywhere for a while), and some major changes at my place of work. I may have also been heavily distracted by both Final Fantasy 12 and 15. So there might be some fics of that nature in future. But like I said, this fic is NOT dead. I will complete it.

In fact, I would wager there's perhaps five to seven chapters left. Perhaps less depending on how the New York arc plays out.

Due to request the name of Sa'id has been changed. All characters within my fics unless otherwise stated are fictional, all resemblances to peoples living or dead is entirely coincidental.