Chapter 364: Bastet

“Are you the one speaking?”

Newt’s cheeks were flushed.

“It’s me, not some ghost.”

The black cat replied.

“You’re a Catling?”

Newt lost all his shyness toward people, becoming instead calm and focused.

“...Yes.”

The black cat hesitated—it was indeed a Catling, at least in part of its existence.

“That’s truly marvelous.”

Newt exclaimed with quiet excitement,

“If you’re willing to answer... where is this place?”

“The world beyond the Veil, my threshold.”

The black cat said.

“So, dear Bastet, you’ve come to Making Guide me to death, to reunite with my family?”

Newt grew momentarily distant.

As a learned wizard, he naturally knew of the Threshold—the world after death, the beginning of great adventure.

And Bastet was the Egyptian cat-god symbolizing war and family, dual-natured: gentle and virtuous, yet brave and warlike.

“No.”

The black cat shook its head like a human.

“Then I’m merely a visitor...”

Newt turned his head, gazing far off at the strange, swirling mists floating about—each one ready to slip into a wizard’s mind if not watched.

The black cat handled these mist-balls effortlessly, sweeping them away with its tail.

“Are the wandering souls real?”

Newt asked carefully.

“Perhaps. If a soul neither wishes to leave nor resists death, you may encounter them here.”

The black cat’s ears twitched, as if thinking.

“Leta Lestrange—have you seen her?”

Newt’s face bore an expression the black cat could not understand.

“No. Wandering souls appear just before dawn, by which time I have already departed.”

The black cat gazed into the distance; it was daytime now, not yet night.

“Then, will I ever have a chance to meet her again?”

Newt asked.

“It will take time... Stay too long here, and you will become lost.”

The black cat’s whiskers twitched slightly.

“Yes, dear Bastet—if I wish to do this, what must I give?”

Newt’s eyes narrowed into crescent arcs, as if filled with light.

He always found answers by observing magical creatures.

The black cat possessed some power he could not imagine, capable of achieving this.

“Do you miss her deeply?”

The black cat did not understand. It did not know who this person was.

“We did.”

Newt grew distant again.

Long after the fact, he was willing to admit he was the first to capture Gellert Grindelwald.

Before that, like all the sorrowful, he endured the wounds of war.

Leta Lestrange, his best friend since childhood. Even now, in the workshop of his magical suitcase, a frame with her photograph remained permanently displayed.

He would never forget: Paris, France, 1927, the Père Lachaise Cemetery.

That year, Leta Lestrange had become Theseus’s fiancée. On the same year, at Gellert Grindelwald’s gathering in Paris, she sacrificed herself, using a powerful spell to destroy Grindelwald’s skull-shaped water pipe, diverting his attention so he and Theseus could escape. Leta herself was consumed by Grindelwald’s flames.

It was her death that finally drove them to vow to fight the terrorists who took her life to the end.

“She was my friend, and Theseus’s fiancée. She died saving others, in war... and war brings only despair, tearing apart every family that should have been happy.”

Bastet, symbol of war and family—will you understand?

Newt did not speak the final words, only explained softly.

He knew this was a dream, so within it, he did not fully bury his emotions.

He was lost, wounded. The polite curve of his lips froze, then, unable to bear the weight, slowly, irrevocably, sank downward.

Suddenly, he felt his shoulder grow heavy—it was the black cat, leaping onto it, fixing him with emerald eyes.

“I will try... yes, stay a little longer.”

The black cat said.

And Newt would think—even gods might have feelings.

“What must I give?”

Newt asked softly, hands behind his back.

“Some knowledge.”

The black cat gripped its own tail, keeping it from swaying wildly.

“I am happy to oblige.”

Newt’s lips slowly lifted.

Sometimes Newt thought gods could be amusing, though he had never believed in them—certainly not now. He merely regarded today’s dream as a powerful magic, one clearly grand and rare; thus, the being wielding it being called a god was not surprising.

Moreover, he had read The Tales of Dreaming, and knew only the legendary Merlin could accomplish such a thing.

Now, such a miracle had come to him, leaving him in a daze.

Especially since this was a cat striving to learn spatial magic—this... was far too interesting.

Various mist-balls drifted about, the clean, bright space utterly white and hazy.

Wizard magic failed utterly here; only wisdom could manifest, emerging from mist-balls separated from the mind.

The black cat understood this as—knowledge and desire, clearly symbolizing a wizard’s rationality and emotion, both previously manifested in magic and faith.

Thus, the Threshold’s rule was to reveal the components of a wizard’s magic. And according to Godelot’s exposition in The Most Toxic Magic, wizard magic was explained as residing within the wizard’s soul.

Hence wizards became ghosts, and could enter the world beyond the Veil—because their souls contained magic.

Only when magic was entirely stripped away—when the soul forgot both emotion and wisdom—would one become lost, and thus pass on.

This was the rule of the Threshold.

The black cat seemed to grasp it, and its careful contemplation, seen by Newt, made his lips begin to rise uncontrollably.

Finally, the mist rose.

The black cat now understood how to use the Separation Spell; all that remained was practice.

He had also learned the Stormwind Spell—a weather charm—and now planned to carve out a snowy field, or perhaps a mountain, within the Book of Wizards.

If he could lift an entire mountain...

“Goodbye, Mr. Scamander.”

The black cat flicked its tail, a farewell.

“I am always willing to come here—though I hope it will be your invitation.”

Newt smiled.

The black cat’s whiskers trembled—it clearly understood the joke.

“Wizards live a long time.”

The black cat said.

Mr. Scamander was still alive at least until 2017, for he had written the preface to the new edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

Ilvermorny Origins Cabin.

The quill rose earlier than Xiang Xien, swiftly writing:

【Five minutes, remarkable progress】