Time Square, New York
People in New York were screaming.
They surged through the streets in a blind, shoving panic, fleeing from the storm of blackness tearing its way through the city. It howled between the buildings, shredding stone and steel, a living cloud of rage wrapped around the broken soul of a boy.
Credence Barebone had become a monster. An Obscurus.
Percival Graves arrived at the edge of the chaos, coat snapping in the unnatural wind. He watched the Obscurus roar past, smashing through a trolley car as if it were paper. Behind him, Newt Scamander and Porpentina Goldstein apparated into the street, their faces tightening at the sight.
Graves took a slow step forward, voice low and coaxing as the black mass wheeled back toward him.
"To survive so long with this inside you, Credence, is a miracle," he called. "You are a miracle. Come with me. Think of what we could achieve together."
The Obscurus answered with a sound closer to a scream than a roar. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, slamming into Graves and hurling him backward. Newt flattened himself behind a smashed car. Tina dove for cover beside him, wand already in hand.
Newt's eyes never left the creature.
"The Second Salem boy," he said quietly. "He's the Obscurial."
Tina's brow furrowed. "But he's not a child."
"His power must be so strong that he's somehow managed to survive," Newt replied, grim.
Tina swallowed, gaze flicking from the rampaging Obscurus to the crowds, to the gaping windows and flashing cameras above. Panic like this could topple everything.
"Newt," she said, breath steadying into resolve. "Save him."
Newt understood what she meant—and what she was risking. He nodded once. While Tina stepped out from cover to draw attention, he apparated, reappearing closer to Credence's path.
The Obscurus veered away from Graves, tearing down the street. Tina raised her wand.
"Mr. Graves!" she shouted, firing a Stupefy at him.
Graves twisted and blocked it with a crisp Protego. Another Stupefy. Another shield. The spells built into a continuous beam of red; Graves met it with his own, the twin streaks grinding against each other in midair.
"Tina," he said over the crackling energy, "you're always turning up where you're least wanted."
With a sharp gesture of his free hand, he ripped a car from the street using wandless magic and hurled it at her. Tina broke the connection and dove aside, the vehicle smashing into the pavement where she had stood. By the time she rolled to her feet, Graves had apparated again, and she vanished after him in pursuit.
Neither of them could know that, above their duel, MACUSA's leaders had already decided: the Obscurus would be contained. Contained, to them, meant killed.
The Obscurus tore through the subway tunnel, a tide of black mist scraping along the ceiling like a storm cloud trapped underground. Lights flickered and burst as it passed. Newt stepped forward into the wavering glow, hands held openly at his sides.
"Credence," he called. "Credence, I can help."
The Obscurus shrieked in reply. Its mass twisted violently, then disapparated with a crack, re-forming farther down the line. Pillars shattered in its wake. MACUSA Aurors, clustered at the far end, hurled spells that fizzled or bounced harmlessly off the roiling darkness.
By the time Newt reached one of Grand Central's lower levels, the police barricades were already in splinters. Pistols, shotguns—it didn't matter. Bullets vanished in the black.
The colored trails of the Obscurus finally began to thin. Fragments of darkness peeled away, collapsing inward until they poured into a hunched human shape. Credence staggered down the terminal, dazed, his clothes torn, his eyes wild.
Graves followed, Aurors at his back.
"Bar the area," Graves ordered coldly. "I don't want anyone else down there."
MACUSA Aurors raised their wands. A net of protective spells shimmered into life across the tunnel entrance.
Tina sprinted toward it at the last second, dropping into a roll and slipping under the barrier just before it sealed. Fujimaru Ritsuka slid in right behind her, his briefcase banging against the ground as he barely cleared the spell line.
Inside the tunnel, Newt disapparated and reappeared closer to Credence. The Obscurus had already burst from the boy again, swirling along the ceiling, making the remaining lights stutter and pop.
"Credence," Newt called, voice as soft as he could make it in the echoing dark. "It is Credence, isn't it? I'm here to help you. I'm not here to hurt you."
He sat down on a broken pillar, lowering himself to make himself smaller, less threatening.
"You want to know something?" Newt went on gently. "I met a young girl who was the same as you. An Obscurial. Her family locked her away. Punished her for every hint of magic."
The Obscurus writhed—a soundless shudder running through its tendrils. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the black strands folded inward. Credence's human form stepped out of the mass, wide-eyed and frightened. He looked at Newt like a stray dog looking at a held-out hand.
"Can I come over?" he asked, voice breaking.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Then a blast of Bombarda slammed into the tunnel.
The explosion hurled Newt sideways, sending him skidding across the floor. Credence bolted in panic—but as he ran, Fujimaru saw the glare of an oncoming train bearing down on him.
"Credence!" Fujimaru shouted.
He lunged, tackling Credence and shoving him clear of the tracks. The train roared past, so close that the wind of it almost dragged them along.
"Credence, are you okay?" Fujimaru asked, breathless.
Credence blinked up at him. "Mr. Fujimaru..."
Another spell shrieked down the tunnel. Fujimaru yanked his briefcase open, snapping out a shield form that unfolded with a mechanical growl. The impact of the spell rang through the metal into his arm.
"I need you to run," he said urgently, teeth gritted as another spell hit the shield. "Hide. Get back to Modesty, okay?"
Credence hesitated, staring at him, shaken.
Another blast. Fujimaru shifted the shield, deflecting it.
"Go, Credence! Go—before they decide to kill you!" he shouted.
Credence swallowed hard, then turned and ran into the dark.
Above them, Graves advanced down the tunnel, wand raised, expression carved from ice.
"You made a mistake protecting that boy, Mr. Ritsuka, Mr. Scamander," he said. "Crucio."
The curse sizzled through the air. Newt managed to get his wand up in time, blocking the worst of it, but stray filaments of the curse scraped across Fujimaru's body like burning wire. His muscles seized; he dropped to his knees with a low, guttural sound, refusing to scream.
Above, through the shattered ceiling and broken tiles, flashes of light from No-Maj cameras blinked like distant lightning. People were seeing things they were never meant to see.
Credence saw it too.
He watched, hidden in the shadows, as Fujimaru and Newt writhed under Graves' relentless magic. It was the same cruelty he had known his whole life, the same merciless power wielded by people who claimed they wanted to save him.
Tears blurred his vision. His body shook.
The Obscurus tore free of him again.
The boy's fragile shell dissolved into a storm of blackness that lunged for the center of the tunnel. Newt braced to disapparate. Fujimaru raised his shield on instinct.
"...This is bad," he muttered.
Graves hadn't expected the boy to rise again. His eyes widened. "Credence..."
But the Obscurus was beyond words.
It erupted, sweeping down the tunnel with such force that Graves and Newt were forced to vanish and reappear in frantic bursts of Apparition, dodging its onslaught. Fujimaru found himself suddenly alone, his shield glowing defiantly as the black tide crashed around him.
Then—nothing.
No impact. No tearing pain.
The Obscurus coiled around him instead, a veil of darkness wrapping his body. Fujimaru squinted into the swirling black, lifting his bracelet. The device pulsed, reading the magical signature dancing over his skin.
"This Obscurus signature..." he breathed. "It's the same as his—and that girl in Sudan. Why are they resonating... and not hurting me?"
Above ground, the Obscurus burst out of the subway, disgorging itself into the open air. It expanded into a monstrous cloud that spread through the streets of New York, smashing windows, twisting metal, and sending people screaming in every direction.
Credence's distorted face flickered within the storm, features warped with rage.
Fujimaru stepped out of the tunnel's shadow, his shield at his side, walking steadily toward the raging mass. Newt and Graves kept their distance, wands readied.
Tina sprinted in from the side, wand raised, eyes fixed on Credence's ghostly visage.
"Credence, no! Don't do this. Please!" she cried.
The Obscurus shuddered, hesitating. Newt's gaze sharpened.
"Keep talking, Tina," he urged quietly. "If you keep talking to him, he'll listen."
Tina nodded, never taking her eyes off the swirling chaos.
"I know what that woman did to you," she said, voice shaking but clear. "I know you've suffered. But you need to stop this now. Newt and I will protect you. But the man beside Newt—" she cut a look at Graves "—he's using you."
Graves took a smooth step forward.
"Don't listen to her, Credence," he said, his tone warm, almost gentle. "I wanted you to be free. It's all right."
The Obscurus roiled, torn between their voices. A low growl rolled through it.
"They... they hate... they want to kill..." Credence's voice echoed from within.
Ritsuka advanced a step, planting his feet on the cracked pavement.
"They're scared because they don't understand you," he said, projecting his voice without shouting. "I've lived with people everyone called monsters. Most of them were just hurt and had nowhere to put the pain. You've held it in for so long. You don't have to hide it anymore—but you don't have to let it consume you, either."
Inside the shifting mass, Credence's eyes flickered. The fury there softened, just a little, into confusion. The edges of the Obscurus lost some of their violent jaggedness.
Tina's face brightened with cautious hope.
"That's it," she called. "Just breathe. We're here."
For a fragile moment, the storm began to calm.
Then the sound of marching boots shattered the stillness.
MACUSA Aurors surged into the ruined street, wands drawn and ready. At their head strode President Seraphina Picquery, her expression grave.
Tina held up a hand, panic flashing across her face as the Obscurus twitched, its surface sharpening again.
"Don't!" she pleaded. "You'll frighten him!"
Graves raised his voice.
"Wands down!" he ordered. "Anyone who harms him will answer to me. Credence."
Tina tried again, voice cracking.
"Credence—"
Fujimaru exhaled slowly, sick of the chaos, of everyone circling the same pointless solution.
"All right," he said, stepping forward, planting his shield into the broken pavement with a heavy thud. "That's enough."
All eyes swung toward him as the Obscurus overhead began to churn faster once more.
"If you hurt him," Fujimaru said, tone flat, "you're going to regret it."
Seraphina's gaze hardened.
"It is a mercy, Mr. Ritsuka," she replied. "It cannot be saved. Stand aside."
Fujimaru didn't move.
"If you fire now," he said, voice sharp as the edge of his shield, "you're not just killing a boy—you're writing your own doom."
The Command Spells on the back of his hand flared crimson. Power surged through the sigils into his shield.
With a roar like a distant waterfall, a translucent barrier erupted from the metal, shooting upward. It phased through the broken ceiling and into the night sky, enclosing the battlefield in a vast, shimmering dome. Wind whipped the Aurors' robes as the magic settled.
Seraphina hesitated. She had underestimated this stranger.
"Now!" she shouted.
Dozens of spells lanced toward the Obscurus and the boy within.
They struck the barrier instead, skittering across it like lightning on glass before arcing harmlessly into the sky. Fujimaru grimaced, bracing his stance, the Command Spells burning like fresh wounds.
He stretched a hand toward Credence—
A flicker of movement in the shadows at the street's edge.
Abernathy's wand rose, his muttered incantation swallowed by the storm. A thin bolt of sickly green light—unmistakable, unforgivable—sliced through the air.
Fujimaru saw it too late.
Credence's hand was already reaching for him.
The green light struck Credence full in the chest.
"No!" Tina screamed.
"Credence!!" Fujimaru roared with her.
Credence's scream tore through the storm.
"AAAAAAAAGH!"
The Obscurus convulsed. Its tendrils shrieked inward, folding violently as the host's death ripped through it. MACUSA spells still hammered against the barrier, the Aurors blind to what had just happened inside.
The black mass imploded.
Then it exploded outward in a shockwave of shadow and blinding green light.
When the smoke cleared, only a fading residue of emerald radiance hung in the air where Credence had been.
Fujimaru lowered his shield slowly, staring at the space. The boy was gone. Only scorched concrete marked where he had stood.
His voice shook with fury.
"What have you done?"
Graves stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes blazing.
"You fools," he snapped. "Do you realize what you've done?"
"The Obscurial was killed on my orders, Mr. Graves," Seraphina said, stepping up beside him.
Graves turned on her, eyes wild.
"Yes," he said, his voice darkening. "And history will note it. What was done here tonight was not right."
Seraphina's jaw clenched.
"He was responsible for the deaths of No-Majs," she replied coldly. "He risked exposing our community. He broke one of our most sacred laws."
Graves sneered.
"A law that has us scuttling like rats in the gutter," he said. "A law that demands we conceal our nature. A law that commands us to cower, lest we be seen."
Fujimaru's gaze dipped once, briefly, to the blackened concrete. Then he lifted his head, eyes locking onto Graves.
He began to walk toward him, shield scraping along the broken stone.
"I ask you, Madam President," Graves continued, raising his voice so all could hear, "I ask all of you: Who does this law protect? Us—or them? Because I refuse to bow down any longer."
Seraphina drew in a breath.
"Aurors—" she began.
CLANG.
The sound of Fujimaru slamming his shield into the ground cut her off. The tunnel and street above echoed with it.
Graves turned to find Fujimaru standing between him and the Aurors.
"You know, Mr. Graves," Fujimaru said calmly, "I was going to let you handle the speech. But you slipped. So let me be clear about something. I don't have a problem with your secrecy. Every world has its rules. But when you say 'contain,' and what you mean is this..." He pointed toward the place where Credence had died. "...then we have a problem."
He began to circle Graves slowly, the metal edge of his shield screeching on the tiles.
"I don't care about your secrecy," he repeated. "Every world has its rules. But when you say 'contain,' and what you mean is this—" he jerked his chin toward the scorched ground "—then we have a problem."
Seraphina tried again.
"Do you—" she started.
"With respect, Madam President—don't interrupt. I'm not finished." His interruption cracked like a whip.
The Aurors shifted uneasily but didn't move. Newt and Tina stood a little apart, their faces hollow as they looked at the devastation and turned towards Fujimaru.
"Have you ever once stopped to think about what's behind that word 'Obscurial'?" Fujimaru asked, voice low but carrying. "He's a man who was never taught, only locked away. A boy who grew up with isolation and abuse and never even got the chance to know who he was."
Silence stretched around his words, heavy as stone.
"You never even stopped to think about the lives of your own people," he went on. "A leader's supposed to protect them—human, witch, whatever—and be sharp enough to notice when the man you trusted to 'keep an eye on things' is the one twisting everything from the inside."
He stopped in front of Graves. The two of them stared at each other.
Then Fujimaru moved.
His foot slammed into Graves' side, sending the man sprawling. Graves rolled, came up with his wand, already slicing through the air.
Spells ripped toward Fujimaru in a deadly stream.
He met them with his shield. Bolts of force, binding curses, slicing hexes—each one sparked against the metal, deflected or absorbed. His bracelet flashed, identifying each incantation in glowing text only he could see: Expulso. Impedimenta. Petrificus Totalus.
Finally, a vicious Confringo detonated toward him. Fujimaru caught it on the shield, but the explosion tore him from his feet and hurled him back. He hit the ground hard. The shield spun away, clattering across the tiles before vanishing into the dust and smoke.
Graves advanced, wand leveled for the finishing strike.
Aurors tried to move in, but the air shimmered. Fujimaru's second Command Spell flared, burning a deeper crimson.
A new barrier snapped into place, sealing Graves and Fujimaru inside an invisible arena.
"You really think you can stand against me, boy?" Graves asked, eyes bright with madness.
Fujimaru forced himself back to his feet, breathing hard, and smiled.
"I don't need to," he said. "I just need to stall you."
Above them, wings beat the air.
Newt's Swooping Evil burst from its cocoon form and dove, spiraling down. It released a strange liquid as it flew, then snapped back into its cocoon as Newt caught it.
He flicked his wand, turning the hardened liquid into a rope-like structure that shot toward Graves, coiling around him and yanking him to his knees.
"Now, Tina!" Newt shouted.
Tina's wand was already up.
"Expelliarmus!"
Graves' wand flew from his hand. Tina caught it neatly.
Within the barrier, Fujimaru lifted his glowing hand. The last of his Command Spells burned out, and the arena shattered soundlessly. Aurors rushed in, forming a tight ring around Graves.
Newt stepped inside, wand steady.
"Revelio," he said clearly.
The spell hit Graves like a slow-burning flame.
Black hair bled into stark white. His skin paled. His eyes sharpened to a cold, pale blue. A thin mustache and goatee darkened his mouth.
Gellert Grindelwald looked up at them with lazy amusement.
"Do you think you can hold me?" he asked.
Seraphina approached, robes tattered and dusty.
"We'll do our best, Mr. Grindelwald," she said.
Aurors seized his arms and hauled him to his feet. As they led him away, he glanced back at Newt and Fujimaru.
"Will we die... just a little?" he murmured.
Newt said nothing, jaw tight.
Fujimaru held his gaze, unflinching.
"Who knows?" he replied softly. "The future in your visions has already shifted a little. You've noticed that yourself, haven't you, Grindelwald?"
They stared at each other a heartbeat longer—then the Aurors dragged the Dark wizard away, out into the ruined night.
Queenie and Jacob arrived soon after.
Queenie ran straight to Tina and wrapped her in a fierce hug, her face crumpling with relief. Jacob, pale and wide‑eyed, hurried to Newt, cradling the battered case.
"Figured somebody ought to keep an eye on this thing," Jacob said, trying for a smile.
"Thank you," Newt replied quietly, taking it.
Seraphina approached, dust smearing the rich fabric of her robes. The exhaustion in her eyes didn't soften her tone.
"We owe you an apology, Mr. Scamander, Mr. Ritsuka," she said. "But the magical community is exposed. We cannot Obliviate an entire city."
Newt's gaze lifted—and caught on a faint movement.
A thin ribbon of black mist slithered out of the wrecked tunnel, curling briefly in the air before slipping away into the night.
Fujimaru's Command Spell tattoos flickered faintly on his skin as he saw it too.
Credence, in some stubborn, fragmentary way, still lived.
Newt's voice steadied.
"Actually," he said, turning back to Seraphina, "I think we can."
Eyes turned to him as he set his case on the ground.
He glanced at Fujimaru. The two exchanged a silent understanding.
Newt flipped open the case.
Thunder rumbled.
A massive, majestic shape emerged from the depths of the enchanted interior—the Thunderbird, unfolding its many wings, feathers glinting with stormlight.
Gasps rippled through the gathered witches and wizards.
"I was intending to wait until we go to Arizona," Newt said softly. "But it seems that now you're our only hope, Frank."
The Thunderbird dipped its beak close, pressing its head gently into Newt's hand. Newt stroked its feathers, blinking fast.
"I'll miss you, too," he whispered.
Frank let out a piercing cry, as if asking his last task.
Newt pulled out a small vial of iridescent liquid—the venom of the Swooping Evil, concentrated and refined.
"You know what you've got to do," he said.
He tossed the vial into the air.
Frank snatched it in his beak and launched himself skyward.
The great bird spiraled higher and higher above New York, summoning storm clouds from the clear night, summoning thunder from the far reaches of the sky. Lightning cracked, spearing the vial. It shattered, releasing its contents into the gathering storm.
Rain began to fall.
Obliviate-laced water sheeted down over the city. People on the streets lifted their faces, confused but grateful for the cool relief. Others drank from gutters, from cups, from whatever they had, unaware of the magic slipping into them.
Headlines in morning newspapers blurred. Images bled into new shapes. Under the guidance of MACUSA Aurors, the papers dried and reprinted themselves with more ordinary stories.
Frank circled above it all, watching as buildings mended, as broken streets knit together. Then he turned toward the distant light on the horizon.
He flew west, toward the deserts of Arizona, toward his own kind.
Newt watched him go.
"They won't remember anything," he said quietly. "That venom has incredibly powerful Obliviative properties."
Seraphina studied him.
"We owe you a great debt, Mr. Scamander," she said at last. "Now, get that case out of New York."
"Yes, Madam President," Newt replied.
Her gaze shifted to Jacob.
"Is that No-Maj still here?" she asked.
Fujimaru answered before anyone else could.
"Yes," he said. "We know what to do."
Seraphina's eyes rested on Jacob for a moment, hard but not unkind.
"Very well," she said quietly. "There can be no exceptions. I'll let you say goodbye."
She turned away. Aurors fell into step behind her. Wands lowered. Boots retreated. Soon, only five figures remained at the top of the subway stairs, with nothing but rain between them and the rest of New York.
Rain fell in silver sheets, washing the night clean.
Jacob stood at the edge of the subway stairs, staring out at the downpour.
Any second now, he would step into it and let the storm erase everything he had seen.
He looked back at them—Newt, Tina, Queenie, and Ritsuka. His friends. The ones he had never been meant to have.
"Hey," Jacob said, attempting a lopsided grin. "This is for the best, yeah? I was never even supposed to be here. I was never supposed to know any of this. Everybody knows Newt only kept me around because..."
Newt fidgeted with the handle of his case, saying nothing.
Jacob hesitated.
"Hey, Newt," he asked quietly, "why did you keep me around?"
Newt met his eyes.
"Because I like you," he said simply. "Because you're my friend. And I'll never forget how you held me to you."
Jacob let out a soft, breathless laugh.
"Oh..." he murmured.
Queenie's hand shook as she reached for him.
"I'll go with you," she said desperately. "We'll go somewhere. We'll go anywhere. See, I ain't never gonna find anyone like you, both of you."
Jacob forced his smile to stay in place.
"There are loads like me..." he tried.
Queenie shook her head, tears gathering.
"No, no..." she whispered. "There's only one like you."
Jacob turned back to the rain. He swallowed hard.
"I gotta go..." he said.
"Jacob—" Newt began.
"It's okay," Jacob cut in gently. "Is it just like waking up, right?"
Fujimaru stepped closer, the Command Spells on his hand now only a dim glow.
"Well, yeah," he said. "But... waking up with no memories is different from waking up with them."
Jacob turned fully to face him—the strange young man with the shield and the quiet, tired smile; the one who fought monsters like it was just another Tuesday.
"Does it ever get easier?" Jacob asked. "Saying goodbye like this?"
Ritsuka tilted his head back, looking up into the rain.
For a moment, all that could be heard was the hiss of water on stone.
Then a low, steady hum began to vibrate through the concrete. Blue, digital motes—Spiritrons—flickered at Ritsuka's feet, drifting upward like fireflies caught in slow motion.
"No," he said softly. "It never gets easier, Jacob. I've said goodbye to entire civilizations. I've stood on the edge of the world and watched people I loved turn into 'historical data' just so the morning could come for everyone else."
Tina stepped closer, eyes wide.
"Ritsuka?" she breathed. "Your hands... they're glowing. What's happening?"
He glanced down at the blue light blazing on his skin, then back at her with a sad, crooked smile.
"It's time," he said. "Rayshifting. My Director's pulling the tether."
The hum deepened. Spiritrons rose higher, trailing from his coat and hair.
"Does it hurt? Forgetting?" Jacob asked quietly.
"For you?" Fujimaru shook his head. "No. You'll just feel like you had a really good sleep."
He paused, voice dropping.
"But for me... I never get to forget. I've walked through fourteen Eras like this one. Every time I leave, I carry a piece of the people I met along the way."
Queenie's gaze softened, reading more than just his words.
"...The 'Shield Girl,'" she murmured. "You're going back to see if she's awake, aren't you?"
Ritsuka's throat bobbed.
"I'm going to try," he said. "But I don't know if it'll send me back there."
The Spiritrons climbed higher now, wrapping around his feet and legs in a faint blue glow. The air buzzed, tugging at him, pulling him away by degrees.
He turned toward the rain-slicked street, then looked back one last time at the four of them—the Magizoologist, the Auror, the Legilimens, and the Baker.
"Jacob," he said quietly, "even if you forget the magic, don't ever forget this: you weren't a 'No-Maj.' You were a human. And that's the highest rank there is."
His gaze shifted.
"Newt, I'll be waiting for that book," he went on. "Tina, Queenie—I'll see you around."
"But the venom—" Newt began.
"It won't touch me," Fujimaru said. "You'll see. Thank you. For letting me walk this Era with you."
He stepped out into the rain.
Obliviate-laced water streamed over his hair and coat, but the droplets beaded and slid away, repelled by an invisible film of Spiritrons. Wherever the rain touched bare skin, the blue particles devoured it, burning it away in faint sparks of light.
Tina managed a small, broken smile.
"...Figures," she murmured.
Queenie's eyes shimmered, following every step.
Jacob just stared, jaw clenched, as if trying to press the image so deeply into his mind that even Obliviate couldn't wash it out.
Fujimaru didn't look back again.
The hum swelled. The edges of the world blurred. Blue particles spun faster around him, thinning his outline.
With each step, more of him dissolved—boots first, then coat, then hands, the last of him outlined in red sigils and blue light.
"Thank you," his voice echoed strangely, as if already far away. "For letting me walk this Era with you."
One more step—and he shattered into a whirl of Spiritrons, scattering into the storm.
Where Fujimaru Ritsuka had been, there was only rain, and four people standing very still, trying to hold on to a moment the world itself was already trying to erase.
Time, rain, and Obliviate did what they always did.
They washed over everything.
Streets were repaired. Memories were rewritten. By the time the next ships were ready to leave New York, the city looked almost ordinary again.
Almost.
On the crowded dock, Newt stood with his case bound tight in rope, the ocean rolling gray under a low sky. Tina waited with him at the gangplank, her hands twisting together as if they needed something to hold.
For a fleeting instant, it felt like someone else should have been there too—a strange young man with a shield and a tired smile—but there were only the two of them and the ship's low horn.
"It's been..." Newt began, trailing off.
Tina smiled faintly. "Hasn't it?" she said. "Listen, I wanted to thank you."
"What on earth for?" Newt asked, genuinely perplexed.
"Well, if you hadn't said all those nice things to Madam Picquery about me," Tina replied, "I wouldn't be back on the investigative team now."
Newt's lips twitched.
"I can't think of anyone that I'd rather have investigating me," he said.
Tina laughed softly.
"Try not to need investigating for a bit," she teased.
"I will," Newt answered. "A quiet life for me from now on. Back to the Ministry. Deliver my manuscript."
"I'll look out for it," she said. "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
Newt nodded. He was about to turn away when Tina blurted:
"Does Leta Lestrange like to read?"
He blinked. "Who?"
"The girl whose picture you carry?" Tina clarified.
Newt's expression shuttered slightly.
"I don't really know what Leta likes these days," he said at last. "People change."
"Yes," Tina replied quietly.
"I've changed," Newt added. "I think. Maybe a little."
Before they could say more, the ship's horn blared, a reminder that time waits for no one.
Newt glanced at the gangplank. "I'll send you a copy of my book, if I may," he said.
"I'd like that," Tina replied.
Newt reached up, gently wiping a tear from her cheek. He smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear, then, at a loss for anything else to do—awkward as ever—turned and started up the gangplank.
Tina stared at the boards beneath her feet, hand pressed to her cheek where his fingers had been.
Footsteps stopped. She looked up.
Newt stood halfway up the bridge, looking back.
"I'm so sorry," he said, words tumbling out. "How would you feel if I gave you your copy in person?"
Tina's laugh broke on a breath.
"I'd like that," she said. "Very much."
On the surface, it was just a goodbye. Deep down, she didn't want him to go at all. Too late, she recognized the boy he had once been—her batchmate, alongside Leta Lestrange.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to someone else.
Their mysterious friend.
"Does Fujimaru Ritsuka really exist?" she asked suddenly.
Newt paused. "Why ask that?"
"He doesn't have his name on record," Tina said. "Anywhere."
Newt stared out toward the gray horizon.
"I don't know..." he said quietly. "Maybe he's out there somewhere..."
He nodded once, more to himself than to her, and walked the rest of the way onto the ship without looking back again.
Tina watched him go, sadness weighing on her features. Then she turned and walked down the dock alone, her thoughts divided between Newt and Fujimaru. She wanted to know both of them better.
Days later, the storm had passed from the sky, but a quieter sort of storm lingered in the city—half‑remembered dreams and flashes of déjà vu, shadows that tugged at the mind and then slipped away.
In a warm, bustling corner of New York, Jacob Kowalski—who remembered none of what had happened—now ran a bakery called Kowalski Quality Baked Goods.
Customers adored his creations. The shapes of his pastries were whimsical and oddly familiar: a long-necked bun with watchful eyes, a stout roll with a horn, a mischievous little tart with a pointy snout.
Demiguise. Erumpent. Niffler.
"Where'd you get your ideas from, Mr. Kowalski?" a customer asked, admiring a display.
Jacob scratched his cheek, puzzled.
"I don't know," he admitted. "They just come. Here you go. Don't forget this. Enjoy. Hey, Andrew—" he tossed a set of keys toward the back. "Storage all right? Thanks, pal."
Sometimes, as he shaped dough with his strong hands, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him. It grew stronger whenever certain customers stepped through the door.
One day, Queenie Goldstein walked in.
She smiled at him, eyes shining with something she didn't say.
Jacob's hand drifted almost unconsciously to the scar on his neck where the Murtlap had once bitten him. He rubbed it absently, not knowing why.
Some memories, it seemed, weren't so easily erased. Some of them waited patiently in the corners of the mind—or in another time entirely—for the right moment to return.
Far from the warm glow of the bakery windows, in a forgotten corner of the city, thin black fragments of the Obscurus still clung to the shadows.
Slowly, stubbornly, they began to gather.
Unknown to everyone, the remnants of Credence's Obscurus drifted through the dark like soot in water, pulled by some invisible thread. They coalesced, swirling together as they sought a familiar presence.
They found her in a hidden place—Modesty, small and alone, curled up where no one would think to search.
She saw the fragments first as a faint darkness pooling near the wall. Her eyes widened. Fear locked her in place as the fragments rose and spun, winding tighter and tighter until they formed the outline of a boy.
The storm of blackness peeled away.
Credence stood there, pale and thin, very much alive.
"Credence?" Modesty whispered.
He looked at her, guilt flickering through his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Modesty," he said. "I can't go with you. I have to work elsewhere..."
"What do you mean?" she asked, taking a hesitant step forward.
"I found some money that's been stored for us by my mother," Credence explained. "I thought we would..."
His voice fractured, the unspoken words hanging between them.
Modesty moved first.
She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Credence stiffened, unaccustomed to the warmth, then slowly, awkwardly, he hugged her back.
"Stay safe, all right?" she whispered into his shoulder.
He closed his eyes.
Some time later, at a distant dock, a figure in a worn beanie walked through the crowds. Ships creaked. Caged magical creatures chittered and hissed as he passed, their eyes following him.
He approached a man waiting beside a gangplank. Recognition passed between them without a word.
The man nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to board.
Together, they hefted a large red box and carried it up onto the ship.
Up close, beneath the beanie and the new clothes, the boy's features were unmistakable.
Credence Barebone, in disguise, disappeared into the bowels of the boat.
The ship's destination was Paris.
And somewhere, far from New York's repaired streets and washed‑clean memories, a new story was already beginning.
ORDER INCOMPLETE
Foundation Undermining
Note: The last part is parts in the deleted scenes of Fantastic Beasts, just thought to put them here so that it can have a connection to where Credence is now. Yes, it's now time to jump time in the Crimes of Grindelwald. Again, I'm flying in an unknown territory, so see you soon.