Newt Scamander

London, England; 1940.

Love was something strange, mysterious, and truly complicated for Newt, as he was abysmal in that area. He was shy to the core, always talking about the magical animals he cared for—he mentioned them constantly—and he struggled to maintain eye contact because of that same shyness that had accompanied him since he gained rationality; yet, he was a true gentleman, albeit somewhat odd and impulsive, always wanting to ensure he was doing the right thing before acting.

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

And precisely during one of those trips—somewhat chaotic, as he was chasing a giant animal causing havoc throughout the city, amidst rain and streetlamps extinguished by power cuts due to the events—a collision caused his suitcase to fall and sent him stumbling backward.

It was strange. He remained static a second longer than necessary, staring at him, until a wall pulverizing just across the street snapped him back to reality.

It was a man, just like him, but then why was his pulse suddenly racing? 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 he had been standing there longer than necessary.

He had barely taken a couple of steps when it all clicked: that collision, even if it had been a coincidence, cleared up a doubt he had been carrying for several years. A man who seemed attractive to him even without knowing his name, with a completely Muggle appearance and who seemed oblivious to the magical side of the world.

He didn't want to involve him in all that, but now he knew: he would have a new thing occupying his mind besides his research on animals.