June 1973

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Petunia was still reeling, thoughts chasing each other through her head like an unruly, buzzing bee hive

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Petunia was still reeling, thoughts chasing each other through her head like an unruly, buzzing bee hive.

What should she do, Ivy had been discovered, he was an unknown wizard, what did he do to the Nogtail, had he said his name was ... Newt?

Petunia paused, feeling like she had forgotten to take a deep enough breath before diving in murky waters.

Newt?

That name was too uncommon, too special, and the first thing she thought of when she heard it ... could it be ...

"Newton Scamander?"

The man blinked, still playing with Snowflake's fluffy ears to the dog's obvious happiness. "Yes, though I vastly prefer Newt."

"Y-You're ..." Eugene's father!

"... the author," Petunia finished lamely instead.

"Yes," the man said easily, though she could hear neither pride nor arrogance in his admission. His attention had already wandered, from her and Ivy to the unmoving Nogtail.

Petunia was frozen, no longer with panic but with a strange bubbling nervousness. Her gaze glued itself to the man's features, trying to find similarities. His hair was just as unruly as Eugene's own, though more of a caramel colour instead of golden. His eyes were a lighter hazel brown, not chocolate. His face was clean-shaven and freckled and Petunia suddenly recalled the few spots that danced across Eugene's nose bridge the last time she had seen him -

I must not give a damn then.

A breath shuddered inside her lungs and Petunia clamped down on the hurt that wanted to surge forth.

It wasn't worth it, she reminded herself. Petunia grit her teeth in self-reproach. So what if he was Eugene's father? It made no difference to her.

She mutely watched as the man hunched next to the Nogtail, looking at the creature. He didn't look like she imagined he would, somehow gentler and more subdued than his writing or his son had made her believe.

"You wanted to chase it off?"

For one tiny moment Petunia was unsure if he was talking to her or Snowflake, who was faithfully sitting at his heels.

"Yes, it was blighting the farm," she answered, trying to sound self-assured. She didn't care what this man thought about her, she repeated in her head, wanting to believe it. She no longer had anything to do with Eugene. And he didn't know that she had read his book so often the pages turned brittle. For him, she was nobody and so for her, he would be of no importance either.

"Not by choice," he answered, his tone light. Petunia blinked, momentarily losing her train of thought before realising he was talking about the horrifying Nogtail.

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