Fantastic Beasts 3

The Ball

LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, NEWT'S HOUSE

"Newt, we're back," Tina announced as she entered his home. She and Queenie had just returned from shopping in Diagon Alley where they had bought a dress for her to wear to the ball.

"Great. Dumbledore will be over in an hour or so, so you'd better start getting ready."

Newt rounded the corner, wearing a black tuxedo and bowtie. He had made an attempt to keep his hair from sticking up and had somewhat failed, but still looked very handsome.

"When was the last time you went to a ball?" She asked, brushing some dust off of the shoulder of his tuxedo.

"Since the Yule Ball in school, I suppose," He answered, "I don't really go to many social events like these. I find them rather boring."

"What is the Yule Ball, anyway?"

"It's held on Christmas every five years when there's the Triwizard Tournament. The Triwizard Tournament's a tournament in which one student is selected from Hogwarts and two other wizarding schools in Europe and the three students compete for–"

"Sorry, Newt, but Teen's gotta get ready," Queenie cut off, clutching the bag in which the new dress was in, avoiding her sister's eyes.

"Right," He said, turning to Tina, "well, I'll explain later."

She and Queenie walked off to get her ready. She showered and washed her hair, then put on the dress and Queenie insisted on doing her makeup and hair.

When she stepped to the mirror to have a look once she was ready, the reflection of a beautiful and unrecognisable woman stared back. She wore a long navy dress and was glad Queenie had not used too much makeup.

"It's a real wonder why Newt would leave you," She said as she looked at Tina through the mirror, too. Tina glared at her. "One more word about that stupid prophecy and you're getting hexed." She left the room with Queenie calling after her, "Yeah, love you too, Teen!"

She stepped into the living room where Newt and Dumbledore were waiting, devising a plan for getting the cloak. They both looked up as she walked in and Newt struggled to look away.

"Alright, Miss Goldstein," Dumbledore addressed her, "so the plan is is that you and Newt are going to find some way to give Fleamont a sleeping draught. Newt's got the bottle."

"Okay," She replied, watching as Newt stowed away a tiny bottle of potion into his breast pocket, agitating Pickett who had been sleeping inside. The bowtruckle squeaked in protest at him.

"Also, Newt told me about how MACUSA's after you?" Dumbledore added.

"You won't–"

"No, of course I wouldn't give you away, Tina," He cut her off, "I was just going to say that... well, if we were to protect you, of course, we would need to give you a new identity."

Tina waited for him to continue and frowned at Newt, who seemed to be staring at the carpet on his floor with such intensity that it seemed he might burn a hole through it.

"Rebecca Abbott," Dumbledore said, "You're Newt's fiancée."

"Fiancée?" She repeated, bewildered.

"I'm sorry, I had to come up with something when I was talking to Fleamont about you two," He explained, "besides, we couldn't have you be just some friend to him. People will find you more believable if you and Newt have a strong relationship."

"But sir–"

"Tina, he does have a point," Newt spoke up in a quiet voice, still staring at the floor.