A/N- QLFC, Kenmare Kestrels, Beater 1, Round 6

Main Prompt- War. Write a fic set during a wizarding war.

Additional Prompts- 1. (word) uncomfortable, 7. (emotion) disappointment, 10. (phrase) at a crossroads, 11. (word) monster, 12. (action) writing

Word Count: 1846

Theseus was led into Newt's house by his brother's homely-looking assistant, Bunty.

The poor girl was glaring at him as she shepherded Theseus through the house to Newt's workshop. Unfortunately for her, Theseus had never felt less threatened. Bunty had to be the most benign person he'd ever met. That was probably why Newt kept her around, now that Theseus thought on it.

The younger Scamander brother tended to be uncomfortable around… well, everyone. Bunty was a safe companion to have as she was clearly in love with Newt but would never act on that attraction. This freed Newt to make his own decisions with the aid of a person who'd rarely oppose his actions.

Theseus's disapproval was probably written all over his face as he entered the workshop. Thankfully, Newt didn't lift his head from the parchment he was writing on when Bunty announced Theseus's arrival, so he was able to school his facial features into something less dismayed. He'd come to visit his brother for a singular purpose that had nothing to do with Newt's regretful life choices.

Bunty left the room after a moment, declaring an important occamy breeding job to be done, and the two brothers were left alone.

For a while, Theseus let the silence continue. The only sound in the room was Newt's quill on parchment. Theseus took a moment to examine the room, but quickly lost interest. Finally, he settled on taking a seat in an unoccupied sofa chair in the corner of the room and watched his little brother write.

Newt had been an awkward boy who had become an awkward man. But watching him now, Theseus had to admit there was a grace to the way he held his quill. The ink glided over the paper with perfect, unhesitant strokes.

Perhaps Newt had forgotten there was another person in the room, Theseus considered. Maybe this was how Newt acted when he wasn't distracted by the presence of another person.

Theseus marveled at the way Newt's fingers held the quill as if it were an extension of his own limbs. He seemed so content to sit there in silence, waxing poetic about all the creatures he found so dear. It almost broke Theseus's heart to tear Newt's attention away from his writing, but he'd come for a reason.

Still, he found himself asking, "I thought you'd finished your book? Incredible Monsters or something like that?"

"Fantastic Beasts," Newt corrected, still not looking up from his parchment. "And I have finished. This is for the sequel."

"A sequel?" Theseus just barely kept from clicking his tongue in disapproval. "I see." He clenched his fist tightly, took a deep breath, and then released both. "Well, I've actually come to ask something of you, Newt."

Newt hummed and Theseus assumed that meant he could continue with his question. He sat forward in his seat and smiled politely, even though Newt still hadn't looked up from his writing.

"I know we aren't close… anymore. But, I've asked Leta to marry me and sh— I was hoping you would be my best man."

Newt made his first falter of the writing quill, but it was hardly a slip before Newt had returned to his book. "Well, I hope the wedding is local, because otherwise I'm afraid I won't be able to attend at all."

Newt was referring to the "house arrest" the Ministry currently had him on.

The truth was, no one outside of the MACUSA agents, Newt, and the newly imprisoned Grindelwald knew exactly what occurred down in that New York subway five months ago, and the MACUSA were keeping mum about the whole affair. This had greatly upset the British Ministry of Magic. They had tried to squeeze the information out of Newt when he returned to England, but that proved woefully ineffective. Newt hadn't wanted to discuss it. The Ministry decided to take their frustrations out on the young magizoologist by revoking his international portkey privileges, claiming he violated some law or another regarding magical beasts in foreign ministries.

Theseus wasn't sure if he agreed with the ministry's decision or not. On the one hand, he was offended on his brother's behalf, and it seemed horribly illegal to revoke someone's right to travel outside of England for such a little offense. But on the other hand, something monumental had happened to Newt in New York and Theseus had hoped even the mere threat of these restrictions would have Newt talking about it.

The rumor was, Newt had taken out Grindelwald single-handedly. If that was the case, Theseus thought his younger brother was greatly wasting his potential. Perhaps Newt Scamander brandished his wand with the same grace he'd just demonstrated with a quill.

The past five months had been a nightmare for Theseus Scamander. The Auror office was extremely understaffed and Grindelwald's imprisonment had only sparked his fanatics into a fervor. They had made the man into a martyr.

Theseus may only be a young man of twenty-nine, but he'd seen war before. He had fought in The Great War only a few years ago, for Merlin's sake. This was how wars were started, and it would only escalate from here. The last one had crept up like a shadow and forced the world into fighting without warning. Theseus wasn't going to let this war sneak up on him. The first Wizarding War since the Goblin Rebellions had begun, and he was determined to be ready for it.

Leta's wish to have her childhood best friend stand at her wedding was now completely forgotten and inconsequential. Theseus's new goal of this meeting with Newt was to convince his brother to become an auror.

With the Ministry sanctions on his foreign movement, Newt had two choices. He could continue to wallow in his house, writing a sequel to a book about magical creatures, and hope the Ministry reinstated his portkey priveleges. Or he could join the fight and declare which side of the war he was going to be on defininitvely.

Newt was at a crossroads. Theseus was determined to guide him down the right path.

Theseus took another deep breath and rose from his seat, striding the few feet until he was standing in front of Newt's desk. His brother was still leaning over the piece of parchment, but his quill had stopped moving. His face was hidden behind the fringe of his floppy brown hair, but somehow Theseus could tell that his eyes were closed, in preparation for what was to come.

"I can try to convince the Ministry to return your travel privileges," Theseus began.

"So the wedding is going to be outside of England?"

"No." Theseus rolled his eyes. "Forget the wedding," he urged. "I'm talking about you, now. I had no idea how much these sanctions were affecting you. You are clearly unwell. I came here tonight because Leta misses you, dearly. You've hardly visited Mother. You don't leave this house, Newt. It's just you and your monsters—"

"Stop calling them monsters!"

Theseus startled backwards, surprised to find his brother standing and making eye contact with him. Newt's gaze was a sharp crystal blue.

Theseus blinked a number of times, trying to regain a sense of equilibrium. It always shocked Theseus how much Newt cared about magical creatures… and non-magical creatures, like that injured raven that kept Newt at Hogwarts over Christmas holiday his third year. Theseus just couldn't understand it. How could anyone care about animals more than humans? He loathed how dissimilar he and his brother were in that regard. Theseus found comfort in friends and loved ones. Newt found comfort away from them.

Theseus swallowed around a dry throat. "No, they aren't monsters," he conceded. "The monsters are out there."

It was Newt's turn to blink, his gaze turning confused.

"Out there, the monster are gathering, Newt," Theseus explained. "They're being swayed by Grindelwald's rhetoric and he's amassing an army."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You saw him. You fought him."

"He's in prison."

"He's dangerous," Theseus pressed on. "You know it— I know you know it!" Theseus grabbed a handful of his brother's robes and pulled his torso closer until he was leaning halfway over the desk between them. "You probably know better than anyone just how dangerous Grindelwald can be. Join us, Newt. Fight with us. A war has started and I don't want it to be a long one."

There was a lengthy, uncomfortable silence and it stretched endlessly until Theseus's legs had gone numb.

"I don't want to fight."

Theseus's face fell. He released his brother and turned his back on him.

"Yes, well—" Theseus faltered, gritted his teeth, and continued. "Sometimes we have to do what we need, not what we want."

Theseus smoothed down his dress robes, straightened his back, and made his way to the exit.

"Tell Leta I'll stand with you at the wedding," Newt called just before Theseus reached the door. He stopped and waited to see if there was going to be more. "And Thes?" Newt continued.

Theseus's heart broke at the nickname and he debated turning around. But his disappointment in his brother's inaction was overpowering and he didn't think it prudent to face Newt at this time. Instead he asked over his shoulder, "What?"

He could hear Newt shuffling awkwardly behind him as if gearing himself up to ask something really important to him. Finally, Newt said, "I'd really like it if you and Leta could come to my book signing. The press will be there and I don't— I don't— you know… want to—"

Theseus twisted around, his heart melting. "Of course, Newt. I'll be there. We'll both be there. Promise."

Newt's lips rose in a grateful smile, but it fell quickly. "Good." He averted his gaze and bit his lip, the atmosphere awkward once more.

"Okay then," said Theseus. "Send me an owl with the date of your signing—"

"Do you really think there's going to be a war?"

Theseus's mouth snapped shut as he considered the question. "Yes," he answered. "Don't you?"

Newt's gaze lifted until the two brothers were making eye contact again. He answered Theseus's question with an almost imperceptible nod.

"I'll think about it, Thes," he whispered, quietly.

Theseus quirked up a brief smile. "I appreciate that," he said, audibly acknowledging the effort Newt was making. Newt wasn't like Theseus; fighting was not something he enjoyed doing. Theseus always had to remind himself of that. "And Newt, you can talk to me. You can. But if you don't want to talk to me about— if you don't want to talk to me, please talk to someone."

Newt returned to his seat, nodding placatingly. "I'll think about it," he repeated with more annoyance.

Theseus huffed out a laugh, turned around, and left, Bunty glaring at him as he made his way down the London street until he'd reached the apparition point.

Theseus had tried to motivate Newt, and he'd managed to make some progress.

But Leta could probably do better.