The morning sunlight streamed into Tina Goldstein's small apartment, illuminating the neat stacks of parchment, files, and handwritten notes spread across her desk. She sat with a quill in hand, cross-referencing information from Newt's calls and letters with the records she'd unearthed from MACUSA. The room was quiet, save for the faint scratch of her quill and the occasional rustle of paper as she flipped through her findings.
Tina leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The clues were beginning to form a pattern, but it was like assembling a puzzle with missing pieces. The Malmorin family's name appeared frequently in connection to suspicious exports and unexplained activity, but direct evidence linking them to the poaching network remained elusive.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of owl wings against her window. She glanced up to see a small owl perched on the sill, clutching two letters in its talons. Rising quickly, Tina retrieved the messages and opened them at her desk.
The first letter bore Harriet Quince's precise handwriting:
Senior Tina,
I've received your message, and while I don't have much on the Malmorin family in my current cases, I'll bring everything I have. You're probably five steps ahead of everyone else already, but I'll make sure to catch up. Expect me by noon. Also, don't try to solve the case without me—I know you're tempted.
Tina chuckled softly, shaking her head. Harriet always had a way of keeping things brisk but personal.
The second letter was from Tom Everard, written in his usual casual tone:
Ms. Goldstein,
I got your owl, and let me say, it's about time someone took on these poachers. They've been dodging justice for too long. I'll be there by noon, and I'll bring the files I've been hoarding. You'll want to see them—they might not have MACUSA's stamp on them, but trust me, they're good. And don't worry, I'll bring snacks.
Tina smiled at the note, appreciating Tom's mix of humor and resourcefulness. With Harriet and Tom onboard, the team was shaping up.
As the clock ticked closer to noon, a sharp knock at her door pulled Tina from her thoughts. She opened it to find Benjamin Pratt standing on her stoop, his tall frame silhouetted against the morning light. He was dressed in his usual no-nonsense attire, his coat buttoned tightly and his wand holstered at his side.
"Ben," Tina greeted him, her tone warm but professional. "You're early."
"I figured you'd appreciate the extra time," Benjamin replied with a small smirk.
Tina stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. "Well, you're not wrong. Come in—"
Before she could finish, movement across the street caught her eye. Turning, she saw Lillian Stone waving energetically as she crossed the road, a satchel slung over her shoulder and a cheerful smile on her face.
"Lillian!" Tina called out, her smile widening.
"Morning, you two!" Lillian replied, her voice carrying easily. She reached the steps and gave Tina a quick hug before nodding at Benjamin. "Good to see you again, Ben."
Benjamin tipped his head in greeting. "Lillian. Still as loud as ever, I see."
Lillian laughed, unfazed. "And you're still as stiff. Some things never change."
Tina shook her head with a chuckle, stepping back to let them both inside. "Come on in. Harriet and Tom are still on their way, but we've got some time to catch up."
The three settled in the living room, Tina pouring coffee while Lillian rummaged through her satchel.
"So," Lillian began, pulling out a small notebook, "what have you been up to since the last time we worked together? I haven't seen you in—what? Three years?"
Tina nodded, setting down the coffee pot. "That sounds about right. I've been keeping busy, though mostly behind the scenes. What about you?"
Lillian grinned, flipping through her notes. "Same old, really. Busting poacher camps, breaking traps, chasing rumors about illegal beast trades. Oh, and I've been helping a few magical reserves with rehabilitation programs."
"Sounds like you haven't slowed down at all," Tina remarked, her tone warm.
Benjamin sipped his coffee, his expression thoughtful. "You've always been good at finding the camps, Lillian. Any recent leads that might tie into this network?"
Lillian nodded, her demeanor shifting to something more serious. "I took down a camp a few weeks ago in the Appalachian Mountains. They had a nundu in a magical stasis trap—barely alive. I don't know if it's tied to this Malmorin family Newt mentioned, but it felt too well-organized to be random."
Tina leaned forward, her quill poised over a blank page. "That could be significant. Did you find any records or names connected to the camp?"
Lillian shook her head. "Nothing concrete. They burned most of their documents before we got there. But the traps—they were advanced. Whoever designed them knew exactly what they were doing."
Benjamin frowned, his gaze distant. "If the traps are that sophisticated, it means they've got resources—and connections. This isn't just a band of opportunists."
"Agreed," Tina said, jotting down notes. "That's why we need everyone's input to piece this together. Harriet and Tom should be here soon, and then we'll go through everything systematically."
The conversation drifted briefly into lighter territory as they reminisce about past cases and shared updates on their lives. Lillian teased Benjamin about his lack of hobbies, while Benjamin retorted by pointing out her tendency to rush headfirst into danger. Tina smiled as she listened, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie amidst the seriousness of their mission.
Just as Lillian was recounting a particularly chaotic encounter with an unruly manticore, Tina's enchanted clock chimed softly, signaling the approach of noon. She glanced toward the window, her anticipation growing.
"It won't be long now," she said, her thoughts already turning to the task ahead.
The arrival of Harriet and Tom would mark the final piece of the team coming together. With their collective expertise, Tina was certain they could unravel the threads of the poaching network and strike a decisive blow against the Malmorin family's dark ambitions.
A sharp knock on the front door pulled Tina from her thoughts. She started toward it, but before she could reach the handle, the muffled sound of bickering reached her ears.
"I'm just saying," a crisp, precise voice argued, "if you'd bothered to plan ahead, we wouldn't have almost missed the floo connection!"
A more relaxed, amused voice shot back, "And I'm just saying, you should try having a little faith in my ability to adapt. It's called charm, Harriet. You should look into it."
Tina sighed, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she opened the door to find Harriet Quince and Tom Everard standing on her stoop, mid-squabble. The two paused, looking at Tina, their expressions brightening before they spoke in unison.
"Senior! You invited this nitpicking flirt?" Harriet said, pointing accusingly at Tom.
"Senior! You invited this walking rulebook?" Tom exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at Harriet.
As their words registered, they turned to glare at each other. "What did you just say?" they snapped in perfect unison again.
Tina shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. "I see some things never change. Come in, you two."
As they stepped inside, Harriet and Tom reluctantly fell silent, though the occasional side-eye between them suggested the argument was far from forgotten. Tina led them to the living room, where Benjamin and Lillian were already seated.
"Nice to see you, Harriet," Benjamin said, his tone calm but warm.
"Tom," Lillian added with a grin, "still causing trouble?"
"Only for Harriet," Tom replied smoothly, dropping into a chair with an easy grace. "She's got such a knack for finding faults where none exist."
Harriet rolled her eyes, taking the seat next to him. "And you're as insufferable as ever."
Tina cleared her throat, drawing their attention. "Alright, before this turns into another argument, let's get to the point. We've got a lot to discuss."
The mood in the room shifted as Tina retrieved her notes and spread them across the coffee table. The group leaned in, their banter fading as the gravity of the case took hold.
"This is what we have so far," Tina began, tapping one of the pages. "Newt's findings point to the Malmorin family being at the center of a global poaching network. They're using magical trade routes and legitimate businesses as covers to smuggle creatures across continents."
Harriet frowned, scanning the notes. "This level of organization is concerning. It's not just poachers—it's a syndicate."
Tom nodded, pulling a folder from his satchel. "I've got a few reports of unregistered shipments moving through American ports. The descriptions match what you're seeing in Europe—enchanted cages, magically concealed transport crates. It's all connected."
Benjamin added, "Lillian mentioned advanced traps being used in the Appalachian Mountains. These aren't amateurs."
Lillian chimed in, her tone grim. "And they're not just after beasts. The poachers I've encountered were capturing creatures to harvest parts for illegal potions and dark magic rituals. This isn't just about trafficking—it's exploitation."
Tina nodded, her expression hardening. "We need to connect the dots between their operations in America and Europe. If we can expose the full network, we can take it down."
Harriet leaned forward, her sharp gaze scanning the documents. "This kind of operation always has a weak point. Either someone at the top is overconfident, or someone at the bottom is careless. We find the leak, and we find our way in."
Tom grinned, though his eyes held a calculating edge. "Sounds like a plan. Let's figure out where to start digging."
As the group began piecing together their findings, the tension in the room gave way to a quiet determination. Each of them brought a unique perspective to the table, their skills and experiences blending seamlessly.
Tina watched them work, a sense of pride swelling in her chest. This team—fractious as they might be at times—was exactly what they needed to take on the poachers.
With the clock ticking and their resolve firm, the investigation was ready to move forward.
The group sat around Tina's coffee table, its surface covered in maps, notes, and parchment. The air was thick with concentration as they sifted through the information each had brought. Tom Everard, leaning forward with his chin resting on his fist, began to trace his finger along a map of the United States.
"I think I'm seeing something," Tom said, his voice thoughtful, breaking the silence.
Across from him, Benjamin Pratt's eyes narrowed as he pulled out his own map of magical activity zones. "You're not the only one." He spread the map on the table, its surface marked with small, glowing red circles. "This is a map of thunderbird habitats. Back in 1927, Madam Picquery set thunderbirds as a protected species after that whole Grindelwald debacle. MACUSA cataloged their habitats to monitor their safety."
Harriet Quince raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "But MACUSA never disclosed the location of those habitats. That information was classified, wasn't it?"
Tina, who had been flipping through her notes, looked up sharply. "It's not entirely classified. I was Head Auror when some of those records were updated. Most thunderbird habitats are concentrated in Arizona. Their movements in those areas are well-documented to avoid misunderstandings during natural magical events."
Tom snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. "That's it! I see what you're getting at, Ben. MACUSA has always been methodical about tracking magical creatures in high-risk areas, especially those capable of creating 'events'—magical disturbances that could be mistaken for something more sinister."
Benjamin nodded, his expression grim. "Exactly. Thunderbirds are powerful enough to create storms and disruptions that could easily spook both magical and non-magical communities. MACUSA tracks these zones so they can reduce unnecessary investigations by distinguishing natural phenomena from actual threats."
Lillian Stone, sitting quietly until now, suddenly sat up straighter. "So, you're saying the poachers are using those zones—thunderbird habitats and other high-risk areas—as cover? If they make a commotion, it'll just be written off as the creatures' natural behavior."
Tom grinned, snapping his fingers at her. "Exactly. If the poachers set up their camps in these 'red zones,' any disturbances caused by their activities would likely go unnoticed—or at least uninvestigated. It's a brilliant tactic, really."
Harriet frowned, her analytical mind kicking in. "It's a theory, but it doesn't prove anything. We still need concrete evidence to link the camps to these locations."
Benjamin leaned back, his arms crossed. "True, but we have a starting point. Look at this." He pointed to a section of the map. "Some of the locations match the camps Lillian and Tina have been investigating—Arizona, the Appalachian Mountains, and parts of the Midwest. It's not perfect, but the overlap is undeniable."
Tina furrowed her brow, her gaze intense as she studied the map. "There are slight discrepancies, but the alignment is too close to be coincidence. If the poachers are deliberately setting up in these zones, it means they've been studying our methods—using our own system against us."
Lillian tapped her chin, her mind racing. "This theory lines up with some of the camps I've seen. I didn't notice it before, but the locations match areas with a history of magical activity—places MACUSA or local authorities would naturally dismiss as part of the environment."
Benjamin gave a small, satisfied nod. "So we're looking for patterns within the patterns. If we can confirm this link, we'll know exactly where to look for the remaining camps."
Tina straightened, her resolve hardening. "It's a solid theory, but without concrete evidence, we can't act on it. We need to gather more information to prove this connection."
Lillian's eyes drifted back to the red zones marked on the map. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, then pointed to one of the highlighted areas. "I've been to a few camps in these zones. There are similarities in their setups—security measures, traps, even the way the creatures were caged. It's subtle, but now that I'm looking at it, with this context, it makes sense."
Tom and Benjamin exchanged a look, then both said in unison, "It's progress."
Tina let out a small sigh, her focus unbroken. "It's not definitive, but it's enough to move forward. We'll compare this map to everything we've got—Lillian's notes, MACUSA's records, and Newt's findings. If we can establish a consistent pattern, we'll have the proof we need."
The group fell into a brief silence, each of them considering the implications. The poachers were cunning, but their reliance on these zones might just be their undoing.
For the first time, Tina felt a flicker of hope. They were getting closer.
Harriet Quince leaned forward, her sharp gaze fixed on the map spread across the coffee table. She traced her finger over one of the red zones, her mind working quickly. "Alright," she said decisively, "if this theory holds any weight, the first step is cross-referencing these red zones with records of every protected species that shares their habitat. MACUSA has detailed files on this."
She straightened, already reaching for her coat. "I'll head back to the headquarters and dig into the archives. If there's any overlap or something we missed, I'll find it."
Before Tina could respond, Harriet was already halfway to the door, her movements brisk and efficient.
Tom Everard leaned back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "Well, someone's excited," he remarked, watching Harriet disappear out the door.
Lillian smirked. "It's not excitement—it's Harriet being Harriet. When she's onto something, nothing stops her."
Benjamin gave a small chuckle, his tone even. "At least she's focused. Let's hope she brings back something we can use."
With Harriet gone, the remaining group shifted their attention back to the map and notes on the table. Tina tapped a quill against her chin, her eyes narrowing in thought. "If they're using red zones as cover, what about areas with shared habitats—places where multiple protected species overlap? That would increase the chances of natural magical phenomena masking their operations."
Lillian nodded. "It's possible, but that also means their camps would be even harder to spot. They'd have layers of natural activity disguising them."
Tom, who had been quietly studying the notes, interjected. "There's another angle we haven't considered. What if the poachers aren't just hiding in these zones—they're deliberately targeting them? These areas are remote and teeming with rare creatures. It's a goldmine for poachers."
Benjamin crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "That makes sense. They're not just avoiding detection—they're strategically positioning themselves to exploit the ecosystem. The red zones aren't just a cover; they're a resource."
Tina frowned, leaning over the map. "If that's the case, then we need to start thinking like them. Where would they go next? What zones haven't been hit yet?"
Tom tapped his wand against the table, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I like where this is going. If we can predict their movements, we'll be one step ahead."
The conversation ebbed and flowed, each member of the group contributing their thoughts and refining the theory. Despite the seriousness of the topic, there was an undercurrent of energy—a sense that they were closing in on something big.
Every now and then, Tom would glance at the door, his grin widening. "I give it another hour before Harriet storms back in with half the archives in tow."
Lillian chuckled. "You know she's going to have enough material to bury us in paperwork."
Tina smiled faintly, her focus remaining on the task at hand. "That's exactly what we need. The more information we have, the better our chances of stopping this."
Benjamin, ever the pragmatist, added, "Let's hope the paperwork points us in the right direction. We're running out of time to stay ahead of these poachers."
As the afternoon sunlight shifted across the room, the group pressed on, their determination unwavering as they worked to untangle the threads of the poaching network. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together—slowly but surely.