Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Imagines

21. Ghostly Sins

Happy Halloween! This is not a story based on Halloween; instead, I took a shot at writing horror for the first time. I hope you enjoy!
Thank you so much for 3k reads on this book!
Alternate Title: Who Will Forgive Us?

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Newt had been told to stay away from the Goldstein manor for as long as he could remember. It was a grandeur home, centuries old and hidden by a forest of trees that had long since died. What drew the community away from it wasn't it's appearance, no, it was the stories of the family that had lived there.

Rumors had floated around like restless spirits, each one worse than the last. The town believed the family had descended from a long line of witches, dating all the way back to the Salem Witch Trials in 1693. When the eldest of the Goldsteins mysteriously died ten years prior, gossip spread throughout. Some said they died of an illness; others said it was a failed ritual, and the worst of all said it was their two daughters that had done it. Newt was fresh out of school and on his way to university, so he didn't give much thought on the passing. It was codswallop, not worth his time. However, when Newt was assigned to go to their place to collect their unpaid taxes, he couldn't help but feel a cold shiver go up his spine.

"You want me to go there?" His tone was cold and clipped as he spoke, smothered in disbelief. "I thought it'd been abandoned months before I got back from the war."

His boss, Percival Graves, simply scoffed. "Am I correct in assuming you were misled, Mr. Scamander? Word has it the two sisters who croaked their ma and pa still live in that house. Nonsense, I say. If the two girls were still there, they would've stirred up some trouble already."

"Unless they're in hiding," Newt said lowly, shuffling through the stacks of paper that Graves had assigned him to do. "I don't see why I'm still doing tax work, you know I've got my degree in-"

"In zoology, yes, I'm aware. But there are simply no jobs that adhere to your interests. If you truly wish to pursue your passions, you must travel. It's no secret that you're dying to, Newt, but the simple matter is that there just isn't enough money for you to go yet. And there won't be for a long time." Graves stood up as Newt began to protest, shaking his head and pushing the stack of papers closer to Newt, who was looking at them with an expression of disdain. "I know what you're thinking. Just... go to the house, get the money, and get the hell out of there. You can do just that." He walked out of the room with a nod, leaving Newt all by his lonesome. Newt huffed, shooting a few specks of dust in the air that twirled and danced around until the sunlight claimed them and they could no longer be seen,

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The drive to the home wasn't too long, but the anticipation Newt felt as the driver wound up the winding path to the outskirts of the residence made him uneasy. The driver eyed him from the rear-view mirror, cocking his head to the side as the brakes squealed. Newt thanked him and paid him a few coins, sparing the extra change in favor of getting out of the vehicle faster. "I won't be long," he explained, though the driver just grunted something about not being a valet service in response. Newt exited the car, ducking his head as the door slammed and the driver sped off. "Oh, come on!" He said in exasperation, his case flinging upward as he raised his arms in annoyance. "It can't be that bad." However, when Newt looked up and took in the big expanse of the house, barely visible through the clustered trees in front of it, an unsettling feeling of something not right spread through him. He gulped, making his way up the beaten path and ignoring the feeling that lingered behind him. Newt treaded carefully, his footsteps fluid and soft as the house came into view.

It was magnificent.

The house itself was old and had definitely had its fair share of weathering over the years, but that didn't take away from the simple complexity of the home. It stood three stories high and was covered in white bricks, large, dusty windows taking up most of the exterior. The deck was large and long pillars made of quartz rose to hold a balcony that was lined by a fence of twisted, black metal. The house was lined in unclipped shrubbery, the lush, green color nearly an eyesore against the monochrome tone of the rest of the area. Leaves crunched under Newt's feet as he walked, and he rejoiced in the simple comfort of a sound he was used to. The rest of the earth was still around him. Newt shivered as he climbed one step, the flooring groaning with the weight of his foot. Everything seemed to tense at the sound, and Newt chose to ignore the whoosh of something white he saw through the reflection in a window. He stepped on the remaining few steps carefully, light enough not to elicit anymore of the dreaded sound. A sizable door stood in front of him, huge and lined with black swirls that seemed to radiate a feeling of livelihood. Newt raised his hand, poised to knock, he took it to the door and-