Quote of the Chapter:

"I have visited lairs, burrows and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust and, on occasion, beaten them off with my travelling kettle."

-Newt Scamander

My name is Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. Newt paused, his quill poised. How to continue? Does he mention his work? His family? His education- maybe not. As Newt was pondering, a memory came to the front of his mind. His most treasured memory. That's the one. Dipping his quill into the ink, Newt continued.

I used to be a very different man to who I am now. My expulsion from Hogwarts had hit me hard; I drank day in, day out, eating little but Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes. It was a poor diet, I see that now. At the time, I was usually too intoxicated to notice. But one experience changed me.

I was in The Hopping Pot, my frequent haunt. Nothing new. Then I saw her. Dark hair to her waist, blue eyes the colour of sapphires. I offered to buy her a Firewhisky (as that was the kind of man I was then), and to my surprise she accepted. Her name is Hélène, she told me. Her mother is French, and sent her to Beauxbatons. I lost count of the number of Firewhiskies we drank. We clicked; I cannot remember exactly why, yet we talked long into the night. However, I am ashamed to say that one thing led to another, but it was the events after this that impacted me. I had sobered somewhat, yet when somehow we got on to the subject of school, it all came tumbling out. Being expelled, being estranged from my family, being unemployed, feeling like a son of a bludger then drinking it away - and the most surprising thing was that Hélène didn't say anything; she didn't interrupt me; she just listened. And what she said afterwards I will remember forever.

"You know what, Newt? I think everyone has a purpose. Why else would we be here if there wasn't a reason? I think that's all you need to do. Discover your purpose. Because you have one. I know you do. Perhaps it's even a great purpose. All you have to do is find it."

Long after she had fallen asleep, I considered her words. Maybe she was still tipsy, maybe she was not. Only the words were important. She said I need to find my purpose. Yet what could that be?

On the walk from her apartment the next morning, I was knocked down by a raging hippogriff, which was being chased by a multitude of Aurors and Beast Carers. They had obviously no control over the creature, as it was snorting ad stamping all over the square (thank goodness it was a non-Muggle habituated area, or there would have been an offensive amount of Memory Charms to cast). As I watched the hippogriff's fury, I remembered a charm my mother had created to calm hippogriffs, if she wanted to move them to a new pen. "PECUS TRANQUILLUM!" I yelled, pointing my lime wand in the general direction of the beast. Almost instantly, the hippogriff sank onto its knees and began picking parasites off its fur.

Not long after, one of the Beast Carers made his way over to me, helping me up from the ground. "Spectacular, sir!" he said to me. "You really do have a way with beasts. We need more gentlemen like you in the Ministry." I was about to reply but he was already gone, back to leading the hippogriff to wherever it came from. Then it struck me. I do have a way with beasts. When I was younger, I would frequently dismember Horklumps, just to see how they are formed. So with that thought in mind, I went and applied at the Ministry that afternoon.

Newt stretched out his wrist, and in doing so noticed the ink smudges on his hand. "I hate being left handed." he muttered.

There was a positive, and there was a negative. The positive was I made it into the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The negative was I was put in the Office for House-Elf Relocation. Though House-Elves are sweet, I wanted the real work, dealing with beasts like that hippogriff. However I'm rather sure the placement was something to do with the fact that I have no qualifications. I have worked on that since, though, and after two years of dealing with stuck-up pure-blood families (which was tedious to the extreme), I finally have an interview with the Head of the Beast Division. I never forgot Hélène though.

Newt sprinkled the parchment with sand to stop the ink from smudging, and bound the papers neatly together for later, placing them by another handwritten document simply titled: Beasts. He washed his hands thoroughly, donned his favourite blue coat, grabbed his case (filled with references and documents) and made his way to the Ministry of Magic.

The Beast Division was hectic, to say the least. From almost every room squawks or barks could be heard, workers were hurrying around, some clutching a pile of parchment, some muttering nonsense to themselves. Just how Newt liked it. He knew he would fit in here. He waded his way through the mass of people, murmuring apologies every time he collided with another. After a long, packed corridor, there came a clearing, a breath of fresh air from the chaos. There were still people walking past, but Newt could stop to get his bearings without being a nuisance. He looked at the people walking past; they were very smartly dressed, and very business-like. But there was one figure he saw that was familiar. The dark hair he would know anywhere, yet cut shorter now. He almost couldn't believe it.

"Hélène?"

She turned, with a look of confusion, which swiftly changed to a look of shock when she recognised the face in front of her.

"Newt?"

She looked exactly the same as how he remembered her, yet somehow completely different at the same time. She looked older, more mature, but there was still the mischievous glint Newt had fallen for.

"What… what are you doing here?" Her voice was still the same.

"Oh! I have an interview. To work here. Do you? Work here, I mean."

"Yes I do, actually! Strangely, talking to you encouraged me to bring the strings of my life together."

"Me too! Isn't it so odd that we've met again now?"

"Awfully odd." She smiled shyly, and looked down at the paper in her hand before looking back up at Newt. "Well, I have a meeting, so… I'd better go."

Hélène turned to go, but he called her back before she could leave. "Wait!" She spun around to look at him. "Would you like to… go and get a drink? After work?" She smiled again.

"Yes. I would."

Newt came out of the office with high spirits. Hélène was just the tip of the sugar quill; he had got the job! His mood was so jolly, in fact, that he collided with someone as he left the Ministry. The man maintained his balance, but Newt stumbled to the ground, causing his small suitcase to burst open, breaking one of the locks in the process.

"Sorry, sir." Newt mumbled, hastily stuffing his papers back in the case.

"Same old Newt." a familiar voice chuckled from above. Looking up, Newt was astounded to see the face of his beloved Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor, I-" The kindly man cut him off with a smile.

"Worry not, Newt. You should get that" - he nodded at the suitcase - "fixed." And with that he left, still chuckling. Before Newt had time to collect his thoughts, he heard another voice behind him.

"Ready to go?" Hélène was there, with a small bag and her jacket slung over her arm.

"Of course." Newt smiled, and together they made the journey to Charing Cross.

"Two Butterbeers, please." Newt asked the barman at The Leaky Cauldron. Both he and Hélène steered clear of the Firewhisky this time. They both felt like they had learned their lesson - whatever that was.

Newt watched the candlelight reflections shimmer on his companion's dark hair, mesmerized. It was a similar colour to the fur of the illustrations he'd seen of a chimera.

"Newt, are you alright?" He snapped back to attention.

"Yes! Fine! Just great! Why?"

"Well, um… you've been staring at me for quite a while now." She was blushing.

"Oh. Sorry." He must have been away with his own thoughts for longer than he thought.

Several Butterbeers later, Newt leaned over to Hélène, and said: "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For helping me. I found my purpose, Hélène! I know what I want!"

"Yes?"

"Beasts!"

"Beasts." She raised an eyebrow. "Just beasts?"

"Well, maybe! I mean, they're so fascinating! I've loved them ever since I was a boy!"

"Fantastic! I'm really happy for you!" She smiled, a stunning smile. Several men had turned to look at her, yet she only looked at Newt.

A couple of minutes later, Newt changed the subject. "So…" He had a feeling he really needed to address. "What does your boyfriend think of you meeting me tonight?" He took a gulp of his Butterbeer, staring down at his tankard; anywhere but her eyes.

She chuckled, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that her cheeks had reddened again. "I don't have a boyfriend, Newt."

"Husband."

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

"No! Newt, I'm not in a relationship. In fact, I haven't seen anyone since…" She wasn't smiling any more. If anything, she looked sad. "…you."

Hélène and I have remained fast friends for this past year. Friends. Nothing more. I don't know if that irks me or not, but I do know that I have found my best friend again. She helped me with my Beasts paper, with all the knowledge she has, which is actually quite a lot. Almost big enough to be a book! I've named the paper Fantastic Beasts now, in honour of her. She says 'fantastic' a lot.

I have now become known as a magizoologist! Quite renowned, if I say so myself. In fact, a chap named Augustus Worme visited me last week, to ask me if I'd like to publish my works with Obscurus Books! Naturally I said yes immediately. I am beside myself with joy! But that isn't the best bit. I have been given 1,000 Galleons by Obscurus to travel the world and discover more exotic beasts!

A knock on the door jolted Newt from his musings. "Come in!" he shouted, and proceeded to put away his quill and ink.

"Hullo, Newt." Hélène walked through the doorway with a brown parcel. "I brought Pumpkin Pasties!"

"Oh, brilliant!" Newt jumped from his seat to grab the paper bag from her hand and breathe in deeply. "Smells so good!"

Hélène had wandered over to his desk, and was reading the paper he was writing before she entered, "Is this part of your memoirs?" Newt only nodded, as his mouth was stuffed full of pasty. "What do you intend to do with them, in the end?"

"Well," he said, quite muffled, "I'm not sure yet." He swallowed, savouring the sweet taste. "Maybe just pass it on to my children, if I have any."

Hélène nodded, distractedly. Then she focused on something her friend had written. "You're travelling the world? When?" Her eyes lit up at the prospect of her best friend living his dream.

"In a couple of months." Newt had begun his second pasty.

"For how long?"

"Mmffearmm."

"Come again?"

"A year." The parchment Hélène was holding slipped from her hands, and she stooped to pick them up.

"Oh… that long?" Devouring the last pieces of his third pasty, Newt nodded. There was a moment of silence, then Hélène spoke again. "Did you save one of those for me?" The magizoologist looked guiltily at the empty paper bag.

"Sorry, Hélène."

"It's fine. I'm not really hungry anyway."

"I just got suddenly ravenous."

"How long has it been since you last eaten?"

"Um…" He thought back. "Yesterday… lunch? I was just enveloped in a riveting textbook about dragons." Hélène knew this was nothing new. She knew his weird ways. Only Newt could get 'enveloped in a riveting textbook'. She proceeded to tidy his desk, stacking the papers neatly.

Newt was gripped by a sudden urge to speak. He had to ask. "Come with me."

"What?" Hélène turned around, her beautiful face moulded in confusion.

"I said, come with me. Around the world. To see the exotic beasts. To visit the strange people and cultures. To be with me."

Her mouth moved, as if trying to shape words, but not quite getting there. Finally, her mind seemed to land on a word.

"Fantastic!"