Why Can't I Tell You

Fantastic Magizoologists and Where to Find Them

It was late into the night as Newt Scamander finished feeding his creatures. He picked up the empty pail which had held the mooncalf pellets and went into his shed. Sitting down at his desk he put his head into his hands and closed his eyes. When he opened them a book with a red cover, emblazoned with golden lettering, sat before him. His book to be exact. The first copy.

Next to it was a letter from his publisher and editor...

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝑀𝓇. 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇,

           𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓅𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 3 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝓉𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝒟𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝟣𝟧𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀.

                                                                 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎,
                                                             𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓊𝓈 𝒯𝒾𝓁𝓁

"I wish I didn't have to go," sighed Newt aloud. Squeaks and chatters erupted near his right ear. "I know, I know Pickett, it's important, but I find that all of the attention is rather unnecessary," Newt said picking his head up. On the bright side I get to see Tina in a week, Newt thought to himself, and Queenie, and possibly even Jacob of course, but I get to see Tina.

A whole new wave of chirps erupted from the leafy, green creature as he noticed the deep blush crawling up Newt's collar and the far-away look in his vibrant, bright eyes. Newt certainly knew his creatures, but Merlin's beard did his creatures know him. Newt coughed, gave Pickett a stern look, and picked up a quill.

"I hope she likes it," Newt all but whispered, flipping to the front of his book and writing a note. A note he knew he would probably regret later, but oh well, a note.

𝓣𝓲𝓷𝓪,

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓲𝓷𝓪. 𝓘'𝓶 𝓼𝓸 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓶𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭, 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭, 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓮𝓽. 𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽.

                                                                                                               𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓽

By the morning he had forgotten that he had written that last bit, something he had said in his head, but didn't notice slip onto the paper. His sleep-deprived self had cast a drying charm and stuck it into his desk drawer for safe-keeping.

----------

"Teenie, what are you doing still up at this hour?!" Queenie Goldstein said to her sister as she entered the living room. Tina was sitting on the ground, newspapers splayed out all around her. She looked up rubbing her eyes.

"I'm working on a new case Queenie, no evidence, no witnesses, no nothing!" Tina said frustratedly, throwing her arms up. "Go to bed Queenie, its late," she said frowning at the clock.

"Don't stay up much longer," Queenie said hugging her pink, silk robe tighter around herself. As she turned down the hallway a knowing smile crossed her face.

Yes, 'tis true, Tina's mind was filled with thoughts of illegal potions, and ports, and mysterious unmarked cargo crates, but one thought keep slipping into her mind every moment: Newt, where's Newt, I miss him so much, he didn't reply to my last letter, oh I hope he comes back soon. Every time she found a new newspaper in the pile she would check through it for any announcement of a new book. When she didn't find one she'd sulkily proceed to look for any tips on her case.

As Queenie walked back to their room, her slippers whacking against the wood, she called back, "If his book was published I'm sure he would return before it reached the American papers." She shut the door but heard he sister's voice in her head, Stop reading my mind Queenie. And a more faint, I hope Queenie is right.