Newt had never meant to stay in Arkadia for as long as he had. His trip to that part of the world– far from the civilization that still existed in his home, in sporadic magic covered hubs– had only been for research. Supposedly humans hadn’t inhabited North America since the muggles had set the world aflame. A disaster that wizardkind had done its best to prevent in small pockets. America was supposedly void of “intelligent human” interaction and that had been proven wrong.
He’d watched the muggles who had fallen from the sky with a quiet sort of fascination. There were others, “grounders”, people who’d managed to survive by non-magical means– A curiosity, that one, but the more he watched the closer he’d become. To a particular individual especially, the slightly younger man who had stood up for him and shared his home (and so much more with him).
Days had turned into weeks and then into a few short months. His studies in the wilderness proved fruitful, but they weren’t the reason he found himself reluctant to leave– as much as he told himself otherwise, even in darkened nights against warm hands. But eventually all good things must end and it was a message from his brother, Theseus, that made him reluctantly leave the place he’d been calling some semblance of home..
The man he’d left behind appeared as cool-headed as ever. As if he anticipated this day and it was another time of someone abandoning him. It’d almost been enough to make him stuff– Almost, but he knew if he did not return Theseus would send someone after him and he doubted that would go nearly so well. So he left with a simple parting gift, a journal left in the tent they shared that had a pair. One of his own, something they could send messages in– Though he left a note saying he doubted Murphy was so sentimental as to but he was grateful to have met him.
Life in the little wizarding city seemed odd. Magic made everything comfortable, but in Arkadia it still felt enough like the wilderness he’d been almost at home. His tiny flat seemed much too large and he found that his work began to lag. It’s a day when he’s supposed to be finishing up the research notes for the ministry– delicately leaving out certain findings– that the journal he kept on his desk called his attention.
He frowned at the leatherbound book before placing his quill aside. Flipping open to the first page he’s surprised to see so much as a singular line there. His heart does some wild thump in his chest as he reads it over, frown turning softer as his thumb ran against the familiar print. Talking was a difficult task for him, he knew such as honesty was just as difficult for John Murphy. Just the simple line was an unveiling of vulnerability and trust that he wouldn’t have dared thought the man had in him.
Newt stares at it a while longer, thoughts whirring out how best to answer. There was no way he could leave so soon, Theseus– ever the ministry man– was still irate that his brother, famed magizoologist he was had disappeared without word so long. Especially to a place he wasn’t supposed to be in the first place. Newt bit down on his lower lip before releasing a breath, grabbing up the quill once more and nimble fingers danced across the page:
John,
I suppose, then, if you are willing– it is time that you visit me. If you’d like. I’m afraid I’ll be citybound a fair bit longer as my brother’s a tyrannical prat when he wishes to be (and being he has an entire law enfocement department on his side, I rather must oblige).
I’d gotten quite used to waking up next to you–I’d very much like to do it again.
That is, should you wish to come.
Yours truly,
Newton A.F. Scamander