J. Rowling - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

JACOB

Hey, mister . . . Hey, mister!

Newt doesn’t hear; he is too engaged in hunting the Niffler.

Jacob picks up the egg just as the door into the bank manager’s office opens, and a secretary looks out.

JACOB

Hey, fella!

SECRETARY

Mr. Kowalski, Mr. Bingley will see you now.

Pocketing the egg, Jacob heads toward the office, steeling himself.

JACOB

(under his breath)

Okay . . . Okay.

ANGLE ON NEWT, surreptitiously pursuing the Niffler as it moves through the bank. He finally spots it removing a glittering buckle from a lady’s shoe before scurrying onward, eager for more shiny objects.

As Newt watches, helpless, the Niffler jumps lithely between cases and into bags, snatching and pilfering.

Jacob is facing the imposing and impeccably suited Mr. Bingley. Bingley is examining Jacob’s business proposal for a bakery.

An uncomfortable silence. The sound of a ticking clock and Bingley murmuring.

Jacob looks down at his pocket—the egg has started to vibrate.

BINGLEY

You are currently working . . . in a canning factory?

JACOB

That’s the best I can do—I only got back in ’24.

BINGLEY

Got back?

JACOB

From Europe, sir. Yeah—I was part of the Expeditionary Forces there—

Jacob is clearly nervous, miming a digging action to the words “Expeditionary Forces,” in the vain hope that a joke might help his cause.

We cut back to Newt in the bank—in seeking the Niffler, he has ended up waiting in line for a bank teller. He cranes his neck, peering toward the bag of a lady at the front of the line. Tina watches him from behind a pillar.

ANGLE ON COINS spilling from underneath a bench.

ANGLE ON NEWT, who hears the coins and turns to see small paws hastily gathering them up.

ANGLE ON THE NIFFLER sitting under the bench, looking fat and smug. Not yet satisfied, its attention is caught by the shiny tag hanging around the neck of a small dog. The Niffler moves slowly, cheekily, forward—little paw outstretched to grab the tag. The dog snarls and barks.

Newt starts forward and dives under the bench—the Niffler runs, scuttling over the bank counter screens and out of Newt’s reach.

Jacob opens his case with great pride. Inside is displayed a selection of his homemade pastries.

JACOB (O.S.)

All right.

BINGLEY

Mr. Kowalski—

JACOB

—You gotta try the paczki, okay, it’s my grandmother’s recipe, the orange zest—just—

Jacob holds out a paczki . . . Bingley is not distracted.

BINGLEY

Mr. Kowalski, what do you propose to offer the bank as collateral?

JACOB

Collateral?

BINGLEY

Collateral.

Jacob gestures hopefully toward his pastries.

BINGLEY

There are machines now that can produce hundreds of doughnuts an hour—

JACOB

I know, I know, but they’re nothing like what I can do—

BINGLEY

The bank must be protected, Mr. Kowalski. Good day to you.

Bingley dismissively rings a bell on his desk.

The Niffler sits on a trolley covered in money bags, which it greedily empties into its pouch. As Newt watches through the security bars, aghast, a guard pushes the trolley away down a corridor.

Jacob, downcast, exits Bingley’s office. His bulging pocket vibrates. Alarmed, he pulls out the egg and looks around.

ANGLE ON THE NIFFLER, still sitting on the trolley, which is now being pushed into an elevator.

ANGLE ON JACOB, who sees Newt in the distance.

JACOB

Hey, Mr. English guy! I think your egg is hatching.

Newt looks hurriedly between Jacob and the shutting elevator doors before making a decision: He points his wand at Jacob. Jacob and the egg are pulled magically across the bank atrium toward Newt. In a split second, they Disapparate.

Tina stares, incredulous, from behind a pillar.

Newt and Jacob Apparate into a narrow stairwell leading to the bank’s vaults, suddenly past the tellers and security guards.

Newt gently takes the egg back from Jacob as it hatches, revealing a small, blue, snake-like bird—an Occamy. Newt, his face full of wonder, looks to Jacob as though expecting a similar reaction from him.

Slowly, Newt carries the baby creature down the stairs.

JACOB

Excuse me . . .

Jacob, very confused, looks back up the stairs toward the main bank atrium. On seeing Bingley approaching, he ducks down the stairs, out of sight.

JACOB

(to himself)

I was—over there. I was—over there?

JACOB’S POV—Newt is crouched down, opening his case. He carefully places the hatched Occamy inside, whispering tenderly:

NEWT

In you hop . . .

JACOB (O.S.)

Hello?

NEWT

No. Everyone settle down—stay. Dougal, don’t make me come in there . . .

Jacob moves along the corridor, staring at Newt.

We see a strange green creature, part stick insect, part plant, poke its head out of Newt’s breast pocket, intrigued. This is Pickett, a Bowtruckle.

NEWT

Don’t make me come down there.

Newt looks up to see the Niffler squeezing itself through locked doors, into the central vault.