The Road to Nowhere • Fantastic Beasts x OC

six • the blind witch trial

Remember how I was advised not to approach the Second Salem, considering the fact that they'd quite like to tie me to a stake and literally burn the life out of me? Well, after a nice little chat and a cup of tea with the self-proclaimed head of the 20th century's witch-hunting antics, I put our evil differences aside and became a sweet companion with her.

Allow me to explain.

After conducting the rest of my pointless search that morning, I decided to stop at a café to catch my breath (I had to suffer through many repetitions of the whole "Hello, my name is Abigail Dolman and I'm a reporter for the Daily Telegraph in London. May I have a few minutes of your time?" act again). The streets reeked of petrol and the sky promised rain so I was desperate to get away before leaving my boots in poor condition once more.

On my way there, I passed a boy around my age who stood in a timid fashion and handed out flyers. I walked right past him at first, only glancing at the paper. Then a few steps away, the only two words I laid eyes on registered in my head and I literally stopped in my tracks.

Second Salem.

A thought lit up in my head like a lightbulb. It was a useful thought. A dangerous thought, but a useful one all the same. If it was an Obscurus I was looking for, then surely the Second Salem would also be interested. An evil magical force now known for death and destruction. Would an easier opportunity for them to grasp their picture-perfect victim ever come up?

I took a few steps back and grabbed a flyer, examining it eagerly.

"Thank you," I said quickly, then hurried away like I was expecting the boy to pursue me with a pitchfork.

I guess you can never be too careful.

I sat in the café in deep thought, a mug of coffee in one hand and the flyer in the other. There wasn't much to look at on the flyer, just a couple of photos and a vague paragraph and a "to learn more, visit the New Salem Philanthropic Society Chapel and Orphanage" on the back. Quite the mouthful.

It somehow took a few minutes for the thought to enter my head, but when it did, it felt like the second best revelation of the century (the first being my decision to grab a flyer in the first place). What better place to look for an obscurial suspect than a building packed with children? Not only that, but most, if not all of them must have at least a semi-tragic past.

Which brings us here - the cramped, dim orphanage on Pike Street opposite Mary Lou Barebone, who I suppose is the 20th century equivalent of Matthew Hopkins. My cover story this time was, of course, that I was interested in helping the cause.

And so the Second Salem has gained itself what might be their first ever magical member, unbeknownst to them.

"They could be right under our noses, you know," Mary Lou claims, making a series of enthusiastic, passionate gestures. "But believe you me, if I were ever in the prescence of a witch again I'd notice it in less than a second."

"Yeah," I reply meekly, hiding my twitching mouth by taking another sip of tea. Trying not to laugh after what she says is the most difficult fight of my life.

I gently rest the cup back on its platter, which makes a satisfying clinking noise. I'm tempted to make that noise again and again for the sheer fun of it, but I don't like the idea of losing my companionship with this woman too soon. No, I'd quite like to manipulate her a little bit first. Well, if this is what you call manipulating.

"What do you mean again?" I ask her. I'm actually a little intrigued, but the moment she opens her mouth to reply I wish I never pried.

Her sickly face suddenly and genuinely lights up. I can see she's been wanting to share this story for quite some time... as if she hasn't already told this tale until her heart gave out. The second she starts telling her tale, I know I'll be unable to get a word in edgeways for a while. Still, I try to stay - or at the very least, look - engaged while she blathers on.