Fantastic Breasts & Where To Find Them

The Seventh Floor Bathrooms

The bathroom key was in the shape of a raccoon skull. The double doors to Newt's new chambers slid open, unlike anything he had known in the English-speaking world. They reminded him of shoji sliding doors he'd used while he was hunting Kappas in Japan, two summers ago. Newt and Dean Ruthephus walked into the room.

"You'll find it has a nice view of campus, in the daytime," said the old Dean. The spacious central room had enormous bay windows from which they could see the campus mall and its surrounding houses. The streetlamps outside revealed a few college girls walking back to their dorms. Headlights from an automobile moved slowly up the main drag.

"Well, goodnight, Dean," said Newt. "Thanks for everything."

Ruthephus put his arm around the Magizoologist. "Listen, Newt. Remember, you're here to help us research the Succubeast. I am well aware that many of the witches at Bronxvitch are easy to look at. Most of our advanced Bio-Potions students are as competent at concocting a love potion as the seventh-years back at Hogwarts. I am just advising you, don't let the distractions of an all-witches school hinder your research."

"Right," replied Newt, gazing out the large bay windows. "Dean, I am beyond fatigued."

"Of course," said Ruthephus, letting go of Newt's shoulders. "And please call me Grover. We Hufflepuffs have to stick together in the new world!"

"Those patient Hufflepuffs are true / And unafraid of toil!" Newt sang back to him.

The Dean of Magic slid the doors closed after him. Newt laid his briefcase on the couch and shed his dress robes. Digging out his traveling kettle from the briefcase, he poured a hot cup of tea.

He was overtired, but he had to write down a few thoughts before he found the bed. He placed the drawing of the Succubeast down on the coffee table and stared at it. It was clearly sketched by Garfungal Washingbeard, as Newt was familiar with his style from reading that interminable book on Thunderbirds. The bosom on the monster was larger than any Veela's. She was dead-eyed and ghostlike, but impossible to look away from, and, in a way, she reminded Newt of his lost girlfriend Porpetina. They had similar voluptuous figures, even if the monster's proportions were more exaggerated.

Newt took out his quill and scribbled his reflections on Ruthephus, Washingbeard, and of the horrors of changing trains at Penn Station.

Next, Newt found his pipe in the briefcase. As he was about to light it, a house-elf emerged and placed an ashtray on the coffee table.

Newt waved him away, "You can relocate."

"Onesimus proud to serve such a distinguished traveling scholar," said the elf, bowing low.

He ignored him and the house-elf disappeared. Newt ashed his pipe in the ashtray.

Finishing his tea, Newt felt a need to visit the water closet, but he held it in for a few minutes.

He unpacked some more items from his briefcase. He took out an Erumpent Horn, fumbled and almost dropped it. "Careful there," he told himself, and placed the horn carefully on the bar counter. He pulled out his nightgown and changed into long, lacy bed clothes. Forgetting that it was not as late as it felt, he ventured back out into the seventh floor corridor to find the bathrooms.

He went to the narrow door at the end of the hallway and opened it with the raccoon skull key.

"Newton, my love, is that you?" came an eerily familiar voice.

"Porpetina?" he gasped, stirring out of his drowsiness. "How can it be?"

A beautiful white-haired woman approached him, nude from head to toe. "Newton, I found you!" she cried.

Newt's jaw dropped and he froze in horror. "What... what are you doing here?" he stammered. His beloved Porpetina, missing these last three years, was now completely flat-chested, not even her nipples remained. Her formerly glorious bosom was simply gone, replaced by smooth skin without a single hint of a bump. "Your... your tits... so it's true...?"

"Aren't you glad to see me?" the naked woman asked, slowly coming closer. "You still love me, even without my breasts, don't you?"

"Of... of course I do, my darling," Newt shook his head in confusion.

"Come to me my love," she beckoned. "It can be like it was..." She was almost close enough that he could embrace her, but he kept feeling the desire to recoil from his old lover. She reached out to touch him and Newt finally came to his senses.

"Riddikulus!" He shouted, grabbing for the wand in his nightgown. The flat-chested travesty of Porpetina shriveled into a haggish old lady and then into a skeleton, the bones crumbling onto the floor. A girl screamed. Newt spun around and pointed his wand at the narrow door, where Cass Hitchens was standing watching.