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Chapter 30 (The Minister's Request), Chapter 31 (Abyssantica), Chapter 32 (The Half-Human Princess), Chapter 33 (Echoes from the Deep), Chapter 34 (Crystal's Song of Ice), Chapter 35 (Song of Ice and Water), Chapter 36 (The Wardstone's Song), Chapter 37 (The Boy Who Saved), Chapter 38 (A Ball and A Veela), Chapter 39 (Teacups and Homecomings), Chapter 40 (Golden Eyes in the Darkness), and Chapter 41 (The Twelfth Summer) are already available for Patrons.
Harry adjusted his bag's strap as they walked up the grassy hill, the morning sun casting long shadows behind them. Itisa padded silently beside him while Hedwig had chosen to fly ahead, occasionally swooping back as if to check they were still following.
"So, Mr. Scamander-"
"Newt, please. Mr. Scamander makes me feel like I'm back at Hogwarts, being scolded for keeping a baby dragon in my dormitory."
Harry grinned. "You kept a dragon in your dormitory?"
"Only for a week," Newt said, looking fondly nostalgic. "Would have been longer, but apparently, dragons don't appreciate being told to keep quiet during History of Magic."
"Can't blame them," Harry muttered. "So, Newt, what's our first step in France?"
"Ah, yes!" Newt brightened, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "First, we'll be taking a National Portkey to the Tourist National Building of Magical France - TNBMF for short, though the French abbreviation is much more elegant."
"National Portkey?" Harry asked, stepping over a particularly grumpy-looking garden gnome that had followed them from the house. "Is that different from regular portkeys?"
"Oh, quite different," Newt nodded enthusiastically. "Regular portkeys are for domestic travel - getting from one part of Britain to another, for instance. But National Portkeys? Those are specially regulated for international travel. Can't have people popping between countries willy-nilly, you know."
"I'm guessing there's a reason for that?"
"Several! There was an incident in 1837 when a wizard tried making his own international portkey. Ended up materializing inside the French Minister's private bathroom. During, ah, a rather delicate moment."
Harry snorted. "I bet that went over well."
"Created quite the diplomatic incident. The French Minister was so startled he accidentally transfigured himself into a flamingo. Took three days to sort out - apparently, he rather enjoyed eating shrimp that way. But after that, strict regulations were put in place. Only official Ministry-created portkeys can cross national borders now."
Itisa made a sound that Harry clearly interpreted as amusement.
"Yes, well," Newt smiled at the disguised Nundu, "I imagine you have your own ways of crossing borders undetected."
"So what happens when we arrive?" Harry asked quickly, before Newt could start another excited discussion about Nundu abilities.
"Standard immigration procedures," Newt said, checking his pocket watch. "We'll arrive in a designated area of the TNBMF - quite a magnificent building, actually. All art nouveau and floating fountains. They'll verify our identities first."
"How do they do that?"
"Various methods. Identification spells, security questions, that sort of thing. Nothing too invasive, though the French do love their bureaucracy. They'll want to know our reasons for visiting, planned duration of stay, where we intend to travel within France..."
"And what exactly are we telling them about our plans?"
"Oh, official magizoological research expedition," Newt said breezily. "I have all the proper permits. Though perhaps we'll keep some of our more... interesting research subjects discrete."
Itisa's tail twitched in what might have been agreement.
"They won't check our bags, will they?" Harry asked, thinking of the numerous potentially questionable items Andromeda had packed.
"No, no - that would be terribly rude. Though they might cast some detection spells for dark artifacts or dangerous substances. Speaking of which..." Newt paused at the top of the hill, turning to face Harry with an unusually serious expression. "We should probably discuss how to handle certain questions about your companion."
Itisa sat down, looking remarkably innocent for a disguised apex predator.
"I've arranged special permits for research involving various magical creatures," Newt continued. "As far as anyone needs to know, you're my assistant, and any... unusual abilities or companions are part of our authorized research."
"And if anyone gets too curious?"
"Then they can take it up with me," Newt's eyes twinkled. "I may be old, but I still have enough reputation to make most bureaucrats think twice about questioning my methods. Besides, who would suspect someone of smuggling a Nundu disguised as a housecat?"
"You'd be surprised," Harry muttered, thinking of Moody's suspicious glares.
They reached a small clearing at the hill's peak. A broken flowerpot sat innocuously in the center.
"Ah, perfect timing!" Newt checked his watch again. "Two minutes until activation. Now, have you used a portkey before?"
"Not really."
"You will feel like being hooked behind the navel and spun through a tornado. Though the French have managed to make their arrival zones much more comfortable. Cushioning charms everywhere."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Let's just say my first international portkey arrival involved an unfortunate incident with a marble fountain and three very surprised peacocks."
Hedwig chose that moment to return, landing gracefully on Harry's shoulder.
"Everyone ready?" Newt asked, holding out the flowerpot. "Fingers on the portkey, please. Yes, that includes you," he added to Itisa, who was eyeing the flowerpot with distinct disdain.
"Think of it this way," Harry told her, "it's still more dignified than floo powder."
Itisa made a sound that clearly conveyed her thoughts on wizard transportation methods in general.
"Thirty seconds," Newt announced. "Now remember - when we arrive, let me do the initial talking. The French officials can be a bit... particular about protocol."
"Should I try to look extra British?" Harry asked innocently.
"Please don't. Last time someone tried that, they ended up having to explain why they were carrying a teapot full of living shortbread biscuits." Newt paused. "Though that actually led to a fascinating discussion about food-based transfiguration..."
"Ten seconds!"
They all touched the flowerpot - Harry and Newt with their fingers, Hedwig with her beak, and Itisa with one delicate paw, still managing to look thoroughly unimpressed.
"Three... two... one..."
The world dissolved into a whirl of color and sensation. Harry felt the familiar hook behind his navel, though this time the spinning seemed to last longer. Just when he was starting to wonder if they'd somehow got stuck between countries, everything stopped.
Thanks to Newt's warning, Harry managed to land on his feet on the cushioned arrival platform. Hedwig merely fluttered her wings once, landing gracefully beside him. Itisa, naturally, made it look like she'd planned the whole thing, touching down with perfect poise.
Newt... well, Newt somehow ended up three feet away, tangled in his own coat.
"Ah," he said cheerfully, extracting himself, "some things never change. Welcome to France!"
They stood in a vast, elegant hall with soaring crystal ceilings and floating lights that danced like fireflies. Fountains defied gravity along the walls, their water flowing upward in intricate patterns. Signs in French and various other languages floated at helpful intervals, directing visitors to different departments.
"Dear Harry's companion, I need you to enter this briefcase for now," Newt said with an innocent smile, looking down at Itisa as he opened his briefcase, which was clearly magical since it seemed like there was a black hole where the bottom of the case should have been. "I don't think anyone will notice anything, but we can't be too sure."
Itisa protested and looked like she wanted to kill Newt for suggesting that.
"Itisa, please, it won't be for long," Harry said with a pleading voice, and Itisa gave him a look of betrayal before letting out what sounded like a sigh and then making a sound as if she was saying:
'You better come up with the best apology in the world.' Before entering the briefcase, the moment she did, there was a sucking sound, and Itisa seemed to be getting smaller and being sucked into the briefcase until finally, it ended, and the briefcase closed by itself.
At that moment, Hedwig made a sound that sounded like she was laughing at Itisa's misfortune.
"How long does she have to stay there?" Harry asked, feeling bad that Itisa had to enter that place.
"No worries, Harry. Once we find a place to stay, your friend can come out without a problem," Newt reassured Harry with a smile, and he felt a little better as Newt grabbed the briefcase.
"Right then," Newt straightened his coat, "shall we get the paperwork sorted? Just remember - let me handle any unusual questions, try not to mention any classified creatures, and whatever you do, don't comment on the berets. They're rather sensitive about that stereotype."
"What about the mime stereotype?"
"Actually, they find that one quite amusing. Did you know there's a whole department of magical mimes? Fascinating use of silent spellcasting..."
As they walked toward the immigration desk, Harry noticed other travelers arriving via portkey, floo, and what appeared to be a door that opened into thin air. A family of wizards was arguing with an official about whether their enchanted accordion counted as a musical instrument or a security risk, while a witch in elaborate robes was trying to convince another official that her peacock was, in fact, her emotional support animal.
"Is it always this... interesting?" Harry asked.
"Oh no," Newt replied cheerfully. "Usually it's much more chaotic. This is quite calm for a Tuesday morning. You should see it during the international Quidditch season."
They approached an available desk, where a smartly dressed witch regarded them with professional detachment.
"Bon jour," Newt said brightly. "Newt Scamander and assistant, here for magizoological research."
"Papers, please," she requested in accented English, holding out her hand.
The witch - whose name badge read 'Madame Dubois' - examined their papers with practiced efficiency, her quill dancing across forms as she spoke.
"Purpose of visit?" she asked, her accent crisp but clear.
"Magizoological research," Newt replied cheerfully. "Primarily focusing on aquatic species along the southern coast, though we may venture inland if we hear reports of anything interesting."
"Define 'interesting,' Monsieur Scamander," Madame Dubois said, one elegant eyebrow raised. "The last time you visited, your definition of 'interesting' involved a nest of juvenile dragons."
"That was a complete misunderstanding," Newt protested. "How was I to know they weren't supposed to be in that fountain?"
The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "Duration of stay?"
"Three weeks, possibly four depending on what we find. All the necessary permits are included, of course."
She turned her attention to Harry, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. "And this is your assistant?"
"Yes, Harry Potter. One of my most promising students in years - excellent understanding of magical creatures."
Harry noticed she showed no reaction to his name - a refreshing change from Britain. She simply made another note on her form.
"And the animals?" she asked, gesturing to Hedwig and the bag where Itisa had reluctantly agreed to travel through customs.
"My owl, Hedwig," Harry said, "and my cat, Mischief, is in the travel bag." He'd practiced saying this with a completely straight face, though he could have sworn he heard a faint snort from the bag.
"Ah yes, the cat," Madame Dubois's lips curved slightly. "Normally, we would need to inspect any magical creatures being brought into the country..."
"But you know me," Newt smiled winningly. "Just a simple travelling case with appropriate habitats. Nothing unusual."
"Nothing unusual," she repeated dryly. "Like the time you had nothing unusual except for a colony of luminescent cave slugs?"
"They were quite docile!"
"They escaped and covered the entire ceiling in glowing slime." She signed the bottom of the form with a flourish. "However, given your... reputation and permits, we'll waive the standard inspection. Though I trust there will be no incidents involving fountains this time?"
"None whatsoever," Newt assured her. "Well, probably none. Almost certainly none. Though if you happen to hear about any interesting aquatic species..."
"Through the security arch, please," she interrupted, though Harry caught the hint of amusement in her eyes. "And Monsieur Scamander? Try to keep the property damage to a minimum this time."
They approached an ornate archway that seemed to be made of swirling white mist. Various other travelers were passing through it, emerging unchanged on the other side.
"Standard security measure," Newt explained quietly. "Detects various forms of magical disguise - Polyjuice Potion being the main concern. Quite clever, really. The French developed it after an incident involving three imposters, a cheese wheel, and the Minister's prized peacock collection."
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not. Though the resulting diplomatic incident did lead to some fascinating advances in magical security. Did you know they originally tried using Nifflers to detect imposters? Turned out they were too easily distracted by shiny jewelry..."
They stepped through the misty archway. Harry felt a slight tingling sensation, like walking through a warm spider web, but nothing else happened. Behind them, someone triggered an alarm and was led away by security wizards, protesting loudly in German.
"See? Nothing to worry about," Newt said cheerfully. "Though I must say, Itisa's ability to maintain her transformation even through magical detection is fascinating. I don't suppose you'd let me run some tests..."
"Maybe later," Harry said quickly, noting several nearby officials giving them curious looks. "Where to now?"
"Ah, yes! We need to catch the magical tram to the coast. Unless you'd prefer to try the French Floo network? Though I should warn you, their pronunciation requirements are even stricter than ours..."
They made their way through the grand atrium, passing various fascinating sights: a booth selling what appeared to be self-translating berets, a group of wizards arguing with a magical mime, and what looked suspiciously like a fountain that was serving wine instead of water.
"The French magical community has always had a flair for the dramatic," Newt commented, dodging a floating tray of croissants that seemed to be chasing down reluctant customers. "Though they've calmed down quite a bit since the incident with the singing gargoyles in 1923."
"Do all your stories involve some kind of incident?"
"Only the interesting ones! Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally brought a Champagne-breathing dragon to a wine tasting?"
Before Harry could respond, a muffled sound came from the bag that might have been either amusement or exasperation.
"I think Itisa wants to know when she can get out of the bag," Harry whispered.
"Just until we're out of the city," Newt assured them. "Though I must say, her ability to maintain such a complex transformation while also suppressing her magical signature is remarkable. The implications for magical theory alone..."
"Later," Harry reminded him as they approached the tram station. "Much later. Preferably when there aren't quite so many official witnesses around."
"Oh, right, yes, of course," Newt agreed, though he kept casting fascinated glances at the bag. "Though perhaps just one small test..."
"Newt."
"Right, right. Tram first, scientific curiosity later. Though you have to admit, the theoretical applications of-"
"Tram," Harry said firmly, fighting back a grin.
"You're no fun at all," Newt sighed, but his eyes were twinkling. "Though I suppose that's why we get along so well - someone has to be the responsible one."
The muffled sound from the bag this time was definitely laughter.
They sat in a private compartment of the magical tram, which glided smoothly above the French countryside. Itisa had finally been allowed out of the bag and was curled up by the window, watching vineyards and forests blur past below. Hedwig had chosen to fly alongside, occasionally appearing at the window as if checking on them.
"So," Harry said, watching Newt arrange what appeared to be color-coded notebooks on the small table between them, "twenty-one years since your last visit to France?"
"Has it been that long?" Newt looked up, surprised. "Ah yes, 1970. That was the year of the Great Hippocampus Migration. Fascinating event - entire pods of hippocampi decided to relocate from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. Created quite a stir in the magical maritime community."
"Why did they migrate?"
"That's the interesting part," Newt's eyes lit up with familiar enthusiasm. "It coincided with an unusual bloom of magical coral in the Bay of Biscay. The coral was attracting all sorts of rare aquatic creatures. We had reports of merpeople from Greece following the hippocampi north, though they turned back when they realized how cold the Atlantic was."
Harry leaned forward. "What kinds of magical creatures can we expect to find here?"
"Oh, France has quite the diverse magical ecosystem," Newt pulled out one of his notebooks, flipping through pages covered in sketches and notes. "Along the southern coast, you'll find everything from Mediterranean water sprites to colonies of wine-drinking kelpies - fascinating adaptation, that. They've developed a particular taste for aged Bordeaux."
"Wine-drinking kelpies?"
"Indeed! They're much more sociable than their Scottish cousins. Though you do have to be careful - they get rather philosophical when drunk. Once spent three hours listening to one debate the meaning of existence with a confused seagull."
Itisa made a sound that might have been a snort.
"And in the forests?" Harry asked, thinking of Anna's interest in land creatures.
"Ah!" Newt brightened further. "The French magical forests are quite special. They have entire communities of luminous dryads - tree spirits that glow different colors depending on their mood. And there's a unique subspecies of bowtruckle that's learned to cultivate their own wand-wood trees. Quite revolutionary in terms of magical creature intelligence studies."
"Have you encountered any dangerous creatures here?"
"Define dangerous," Newt said, in a tone that made Harry understand why Madame Dubois had been so wary. "There was a rather misunderstood dragon in the Pyrenees - lovely creature, just had a slight tendency to sneeze fire when eating spicy food. And the singing sirens off the coast of Nice - though they're only really dangerous if you criticize their pitch."
"What about the incident with the fountain that Madame Dubois mentioned?"
"Ah, that," Newt coughed slightly. "Well, you see, I'd discovered these fascinating aquatic pixies. Completely harmless, just very... enthusiastic about redecorating. How was I to know they'd decide the Ministry's grand fountain needed more... artistic flair?"
"What did they do to it?"
"Let's just say that for several weeks, instead of water, it spouted various French wines in time with La Marseillaise. The Minister was actually quite impressed until the pixies developed a taste for vintage champagne."
Harry grinned, making notes in his own journal. "And the glowing slugs?"
"A complete accident! They were perfectly content in their cave until someone mentioned escargot within their hearing range. Did you know gastropods could be offended? Fascinating defensive reaction, covering everything in luminescent slime..."
"Should I be worried about what we might encounter this summer?"
"Worried? No, no," Newt waved dismissively. "Excited, certainly. Cautious, probably. Perhaps slightly concerned about the possibility of unexpected magical interactions. But worried? Never. Though..." he added thoughtfully, "perhaps we should avoid mentioning escargot around any magical creatures. Just to be safe."
Itisa's tail twitched in what might have been amusement or concern.
"There are also some creatures that might interest you particularly," Newt continued, his voice dropping slightly. "Certain rare species with... healing properties. I remember you mentioning your friend Anna..."
Harry sat up straighter. "You think we might find something that could help her?"
"It's possible. There's a valley in the Cévennes mountains where healing creatures tend to gather. And I've heard rumors of a new species of phoenix that's been spotted in the area. Though we'll have to be careful - the French Ministry is quite protective of their magical creatures, especially the healing ones."
"As protective as they are of their wine?"
"Even more so. Though significantly less protective than they are of their cheese. Never get between a French wizard and their cheese, Harry. Trust me on this."
The tram began to slow as they approached the coast, the Mediterranean sparkling in the distance.
"Ready for your first proper magical creature expedition?" Newt asked, gathering his notebooks.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Harry replied, watching Hedwig swoop past their window again. "Though maybe we should establish some ground rules about fountain-related incidents?"
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Newt grinned. "Besides, I'm sure this time will be completely different. Probably. Most likely. Though perhaps we should avoid the Ministry buildings just in case..."
Later
Harry watched the Mediterranean's blue waters growing closer through the tram window. "So, about those Royal Sea Horses you mentioned..."
Newt, who had been organizing his color-coded research journals by shade ("Cerulean for aquatic creatures, azure for amphibious ones - there's a difference, you know"), looked up with an expression Harry was starting to recognize as his 'this-might-be-complicated' face.
"Ah. Perhaps we should start with something less... politically charged. There's a delightful colony of luminescent jellyfish that communicate through interpretive dance..."
Itisa, still lounging by the window, made a sound that clearly translated to "Really? You're worried about 'politically charged' when I'm right here?"
"Yes, well," Newt adjusted his bow tie, "you, my fascinating friend, aren't currently threatening to start an underwater diplomatic incident. Though I'd love to study how your venom might interact with saltwater..."
"Newt," Harry interrupted, recognizing the gleam in the magizoologist's eye. "The Sea Horses?"
"Right, yes. Well..." Newt sighed, pulling out a midnight blue notebook. "It's rather delicate, you see. The Royal Sea Horses aren't just magical creatures - they're a sovereign nation. Have been since the Treaty of Atlantis in 1472."
"They have their own government?"
"Oh yes, quite sophisticated one too. Constitutional monarchy, underwater parliament, the works. They even have their own currency - though it's mostly based on trading rights to specific coral reefs."
Harry leaned forward, fascinated. "But you mentioned something about them leaving France?"
"Ah, that's where it gets complicated," Newt said, flipping through his notes. "You see, for centuries, the Royal Sea Horses were allies of magical France. Helped protect their waters, regulated magical marine trade, kept the giant squids from getting too ambitious - that sort of thing. But then the new King was elected-"
"Elected king?"
"Royal Sea Horses believe hereditary monarchy is terribly old-fashioned," Newt explained. "They hold elections every fifty years. The current King, His Majesty Azure-Crest-of-the-Western-Currents - though he prefers 'Andan' in informal settings - well, he has some rather progressive ideas about international relations."
Itisa made an inquiring sound.
"Indeed," Newt nodded at her. "He's proposed relocating the entire kingdom to international waters. Something about 'archaic land-dweller boundaries' and 'the free flow of maritime culture.' The French Ministry is in quite a state about it."
"Why?" Harry asked. "I mean, besides losing powerful allies?"
"Well, for one thing, the Royal Sea Horses maintain most of the magical barriers keeping the mundane and magical maritime worlds separate. Without them, you might have muggle submarines running into underwater wizarding cities or large sea magical animals like the Leviathan. Bit awkward to explain, that."
"Can't the Ministry handle it?"
Newt snorted. "Land-based wizards trying to control the ocean? That went poorly in 1738. It almost started a war with the merpeople. The merpeople still haven't let them live it down, but it was solved when a Prince of Magical France married one of their kind."
"Wait, they can marry magical creatures?"
"Harry, depending on who you ask, one could say that Veela are also magical creatures, but they mostly appear in human form, and they have shown great interest in being part of the magical world. That includes talking and making deals with wizards and witches who are not half-bird."
"So, these Royal Sea Horses. Surely they can't just leave?"
"That's the interesting part," Newt's eyes lit up. "Magically speaking, they absolutely can. The treaties were all signed in Merspeak, you see, and apparently there's some debate about whether the word for 'permanent alliance' actually translates to 'alliance until the coral turns purple' - which, coincidentally, happened last spring."
Harry blinked. "The coral turned purple?"
"Natural phenomenon. Happens every few centuries. But the King - brilliant politician, really - used it as a legal precedent to declare the treaties void. The French magical lawyers have been in an absolute tizzy."
"Is that why we're not studying them?"
"Partially," Newt admitted. "Also, the last magizoologist who tried to conduct research in their territory was sent back to shore... riding a very confused dolphin... backwards... wearing nothing but seaweed and a sign that read 'Mind Your Own Business' in five languages."
Itisa made a sound suspiciously like a laugh.
"Yes, yes, very amusing," Newt told her. "Though I'd love to know how they managed the multilingual signwork underwater. Fascinating spell work..."
"So what happened to the magical army part?" Harry asked quickly, before Newt could go off on a tangent about underwater calligraphy.
"Ah, that's actually quite recent. After the treaty dispute began, the Royal Sea Horse Military Corps - elite warriors, absolutely magnificent in battle formation - declared themselves 'politically neutral' and relocated to a series of underwater caves. They still protect French waters from serious threats, but they're no longer under Ministry command."
"How's the Ministry handling that?"
"About as well as you'd expect," Newt sighed. "They've tried everything - diplomatic missions, underwater embassies, even attempting to bribe them with rare species of magical kelp. Last month they sent their top negotiator - poor fellow came back speaking in bubbles for a week. Apparently, the King told him to, and I quote, 'go float himself.'"
"Sounds like they really want their independence."
"Can't blame them, really," Newt mused. "They're incredibly intelligent creatures. Did you know they've developed their own form of underwater architecture? Absolutely beautiful structures built from living coral and enchanted currents. They even have floating gardens where they grow medicinal seaweed..."
Harry perked up. "Medicinal?"
"Oh yes, quite potent healing properties. Though getting access to them now is..." Newt trailed off, looking thoughtful. "Although..."
"Although?"
"Well, they do have a great respect for magical creatures. And a particular interest in unique species..." He glanced meaningfully at Itisa, who immediately gave him a look that clearly said 'Don't even think about it.'
"Just a thought," Newt said quickly. "Though I must admit, the research possibilities of introducing a Nundu to underwater breathing... No, no, you're quite right," he added as Itisa's tail began to twitch dangerously. "Perhaps we should stick to the dancing jellyfish for now."
"Are they actually interpreting dance, or is that just what it looks like to us?" Harry asked, skillfully steering the conversation away from potentially dangerous experiments.
"Fascinating question!" Newt brightened. "You see, they appear to communicate through a combination of bioluminescent patterns and movement. I've been developing a translation matrix based on classical ballet terminology..."
As Newt launched into an enthusiastic explanation of jellyfish choreography, Harry caught Itisa's eye and mouthed 'thank you.' She responded with a look that clearly said 'someone has to keep you two out of trouble.'
The tram began its descent toward a coastal station that seemed to be built partly into a cliff face. Through the windows, Harry could see what looked like several Royal Sea Horses performing elaborate aquatic maneuvers in the distance - though whether it was a military exercise or an underwater protest, he couldn't tell.
"Right then," Newt said, gathering his notebooks. "Shall we begin with something nice and simple? The jellyfish colony is just offshore, and I promise they're much less politically volatile than our equine friends. Though..." he added with a slight grin, "they do have some rather strong opinions about modern dance."
Later
As they gathered their belongings at the coastal station, a magnificent eagle owl swooped through an open window, its feathers gleaming with an almost metallic sheen. It landed with perfect poise on their compartment table, extending its leg with what Harry could only describe as aristocratic dignity. The envelope attached to its leg bore an ornate seal in blue and gold.
"Ah," Newt said, his tone suggesting this wasn't entirely unexpected. He carefully broke the seal, unfolding what appeared to be handmade parchment with gilt edges. The owl remained perfectly still, clearly awaiting a response.
Harry watched Newt's expression shift from resignation to mild amusement as he read. "Something wrong?"
"Remember when Madame Dubois said she knew me?" Newt said, folding the letter with deliberate precision. "Well, it seems word of our arrival has traveled rather quickly up the bureaucratic ladder. Minister Victorien Delacour would like to have a word with us."
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