Rewriting the Stars

The Greatest Show

It was by pure accident that Newt Scamander ended up at the circus that night, dazed and curious; he had wanted to spend the night out in New York, hoping to perhaps see a play of some kind before retiring to his hotel room (paid for generously by his parents), but the sight of large crowds had drawn him in. As he followed the groups, keeping his head low and his coat drawn tightly around himself, he overheard chatter of a circus – not just any circus, but the most amazing circus that ever was; it was filled with oddities and curiosities, and, by the sound of things, it seemed to entertain people more than any play ever could.

He had bought one of the last tickets of the evening, squeezing his way into the stands and finding a seat on the back row; it was completely packed, throngs of people chattering excitedly as they waited for the show to start. Newt could only look around in slight awe, admiring the lights and the band silently; the curtain to backstage seemed to flutter a few times, but no one exited – they were all obviously getting ready.

He didn't dare think about what his family would say if they knew he was attending a circus show – somehow, he doubted they would approve of such a thing. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

The lights went down, and a hush fell over the audience; the young man immediately straightened, intrigued and even – dare he admit it – excited to see what was to come.

A tall greying man came out from behind the curtain, holding a cane and bounding out into the ring; he was dressed in a finely tailored red coat adorned with gold buttons, a top hat perched on his head. Whispers started excitedly at the sight of him, and Newt was certain he heard a woman in front of him say, "That's Mr Percival Graves!"

"Ladies and gents," The man announced grandly, spreading his arms. "This is the moment you've waited for!"

The crowds cheered loudly as the man grinned, several spotlights suddenly lighting up the room; the red curtain at the back opened, and suddenly the ring was filled with singing and dancing people. Newt's mouth fell open at the sight, and he wasn't sure where to look first: there was a bearded lady singing her heart out, an African American woman in a turban slipping over to ring-master and dancing with him, someone completely covered in tattoos...

Everyone was clapping and singing along with the opening number, and the happiness on their faces was like nothing he had seen before – certainly, no one had left one of his brother's plays looking like that. It was impossible not to laugh and join in – and so he stopped trying to fight it, surrendering completely.

The ring-master introduced each of the acts as they came on to do their own segments; Newt watched each of them in awe, applauding them enthusiastically when they bowed and headed off-stage before settling back in his seat to watch the next one. The woman with the turban who had been dancing with Mr Graves was introduced as "the magnificent songbird, Seraphina", and she came back on to sing: her voice brought everyone to amazed silence, and the cheers after she had belted the last note seemed to echo around the room. Perhaps he had imagined it, but the woman seemed to press a small kiss to the ring-master's cheek before returning backstage – that was certainly not something his family would have approved of if they'd been watching, he thought.

"...And now, ladies and gentlemen," Graves announced dramatically, and he gestured into the air with his cane. "Saving the most daring for last, we have the incredible, the fearless, the sensational Goldstein sisters performing their amazing – and dangerous – trapeze act!"

The spotlights rested on two platforms situated overhead – and there they were, suddenly jumping from their perches. An audible gasp rose from the crowd as they fell, and Newt felt his breath catch in his throat from fear: surely they would fall and break their necks, they would be killed-