J. Rowling - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Although impoverished, the apartment is enlivened by workaday magic. An iron is working away on its own in a corner, and a clotheshorse revolves clumsily on its wooden legs in front of the fire, drying an assortment of underwear. Magazines are scattered around: The Witch’s Friend, Witch Chat, and Transfiguration Today.

Blond Queenie, the most beautiful girl ever to don witches’ robes, is standing in a silk slip, supervising the mending of a dress on a dressmaker’s dummy. Jacob is thunderstruck.

Newt barely notices. Impatient to leave as soon as possible, he starts peeking out the windows.

QUEENIE

Teenie—you brought men home?

TINA

Gentlemen, this is my sister. You want to put something on, Queenie?

QUEENIE

(unconcerned)

Oh, sure—

She runs her wand up the dummy and the dress runs magically up her body. Jacob watches the display, dumbfounded.

Tina, frustrated, starts tidying the apartment.

QUEENIE

So, who are they?

TINA

That’s Mr. Scamander. He’s committed a serious infraction of the National Statute of Secrecy—

QUEENIE

(impressed)

He’s a criminal ?

TINA

—uh-huh, and this is Mr. Kowalski, he’s a No-Maj—

QUEENIE

(suddenly worried)

A No-Maj? Teen—what are you up to?

TINA

He’s sick—it’s a long story—Mr. Scamander has lost something, I’m going to help him find it.

Jacob suddenly staggers, very sweaty and unwell. Queenie runs to him as Tina hovers, also worried.

QUEENIE

(as Jacob falls back onto a sofa)

You need to sit down, honey.

Hey—

(reading his mind)

—he hasn’t eaten all day.

And—

(reading his mind)

—aw, that’s rough,

(reading his mind)

—he didn’t get the money he wanted for his bakery. You bake, honey? I love to cook.

Newt is watching Queenie from his spot by the window, his scientific attention now aroused.

NEWT

You’re a Legilimens?

QUEENIE

Uh-huh, yeah. But I always have trouble with your kind. Brits. It’s the accent.

JACOB

(cottoning on, appalled)

You know how to read minds?

QUEENIE

Aw, don’t worry, honey. Most guys think what you was thinking, first time they see me.

Queenie playfully gestures toward Jacob with her wand.

QUEENIE

Now, you need food.

Newt looks out the window and sees a Billywig fly past—he’s nervous, impatient to get out and find his creatures.

Tina and Queenie busy themselves in the kitchen. Ingredients come floating out of cupboards as Queenie enchants them into the components of a meal—carrots and apples chop themselves, pastry rolls itself, and pans stir.

QUEENIE

(to Tina)

Hot dog . . . again?

TINA

Don’t read my mind!

QUEENIE

Not a very wholesome lunch.

Tina points her wand at the cupboards. Dishes, assorted cutlery, and glasses come flying out, setting themselves on the table with a little prodding from Tina’s wand. Jacob, half-fascinated, half-terrified, staggers toward the table.

ANGLE ON NEWT, his hand on the doorknob.

QUEENIE

(artless)

Hey, Mr. Scamander, you prefer pie or strudel?

All look at Newt, who, embarrassed, removes his hand from the doorknob.

NEWT

I really don’t have a preference.

Tina stares at Newt: Confrontational, but also disappointed and hurt.

Jacob is already seated at the table, tucking his napkin into his shirt.

QUEENIE

(reading Jacob’s mind)

You prefer strudel, huh, honey? Strudel it is.

Jacob nods with excited enthusiasm. Queenie grins back, delighted.

With a flick of her wand, Queenie sends raisins, apples, and pastry flying into the air. The concoction neatly wraps itself up into a cylindrical pie, baking on the spot, complete with ornate decoration and a dusting of sugar. Jacob takes a deep breath in: Heaven.

Tina lights candles on the table—the meal is ready.

FOCUS ON NEWT’S POCKET—a small squeak, and Pickett pokes his head out, curious.

TINA

Well, sit down, Mr. Scamander, we’re not going to poison you.

Newt, still hovering near the door, looks somewhat charmed by the situation. Jacob glares at him subtly, willing him to sit down.

Credence is walking alone through a worldly crowd of late-night diners and theatergoers. Traffic roars past. He is trying to give out leaflets but is met with only incredulity and faint derision.

The Woolworth Building looms ahead. Credence glances toward it with a hint of longing. Graves stands outside, watching Credence intently. Credence spots him, hope flickering across his face. Utterly enthralled, Credence moves across the street toward Graves, barely looking where he’s going—everything else is forgotten.

Credence stands, head bowed, at the end of a dimly lit alleyway. Graves joins him, moving in very close to whisper, conspiratorial:

GRAVES

You’re upset. It’s your mother again. Somebody’s said something—what did they say? Tell me.

CREDENCE

Do you think I’m a freak?

GRAVES

No—I think you’re a very special young man or I wouldn’t have asked you to help me, now would I?

A pause. Graves rests a hand on Credence’s arm. The human contact seems to both startle and captivate Credence.

GRAVES

Have you any news?

CREDENCE

I’m still looking. Mr. Graves, if I knew whether it was a girl or boy—

GRAVES

My vision showed only the child’s immense power. He or she is no older than ten, and I saw this child in close proximity to your mother—she I saw so plainly.

CREDENCE

That could be any one of hundreds.

Graves’s tone softens—he’s beguiling, comforting.

GRAVES

There is something else. Something I haven’t told you. I saw you beside me in New York. You’re the one that gains this child’s trust. You are the key—I saw this. You want to join the wizarding world. I want those things too, Credence. I want them for you. So find the child. Find the child and we’ll all be free.

The catch on Newt’s case pops open. Newt reaches down and pushes it shut.