Newt Scamander

London, England; 1940.

Love was something strange, mysterious, and truly complicated for Newt, as he was terrible at it. He was shy to the core, always talking about the magical animals he cared for, constantly mentioning them. He struggled to maintain eye contact because of the same shyness that had accompanied him since he first became rational; but he was a gentleman, albeit a somewhat odd and impulsive one, and he always liked to know that something was right before acting.

He was always traveling, and because of that, he knew almost the entire world unless those trips were solely for work. But nothing compared to finding a new creature to observe and understand.

And precisely on one of those trips, somewhat chaotic given that he was chasing a giant animal that was wreaking havoc in the city, amidst rain and streetlights turned off due to the power outage caused by the events, a collision made him drop his briefcase and stagger backwards.

It was strange. He stood motionless for a second longer than necessary, staring at it, until a wall pulverizing just across the street made him react.

He was a man, just like him, but then why was his pulse racing so suddenly? In any other case, he could have simply apologized and gone on his way, but his curiosity was so great that he realized too late that he had stood there longer than necessary.

She had barely taken a couple of steps when it all came flooding back: that collision, even if it had been a coincidence, had cleared up a doubt she'd been carrying for years. A man who seemed attractive to her even without knowing his name, with a completely Muggle appearance and who seemed oblivious to the magical side of the world.

I didn't want to involve him in that, but now I knew: he would have a new thing to occupy his mind besides his animal research.