“Who are you?” Graves demanded hoarsely. “I’m Newt. Scamander. Err. Pleased to meet you. I mean, I would’ve been pleased to meet you, under normal circumstances.” “Scamander.” Graves frowned to himself. For someone who was supposedly in a bad rut, he seemed perfectly in control. “Your accent, it’s British. Any relation to Theseus Scamander? Head of the DMLE?” “I’m his younger brother.” “Are you an Auror?” “No. I’m a magizoologist.” Graves exhaled, exasperated. “A what? Is this a rescue or are you a hostage?” “Sort of neither,” Newt admitted.