"Do you think death can separate people, dear Bastet?"
Newt walked through the thin mist, past trees, across fields, and along the lakeside.
Cold, transparent, glittering specks fluttered in the vast whiteness.
It started to snow in the Borderland.
The black cat's agile figure paused ahead.
It turned around and jumped onto Newt's shoulder. The path ahead was clear. They only needed to follow the winding path forward; the wooden house surrounded by Gabriel's Trumpet flowers was their destination.
"Do those we love ever truly leave us? Or do we recall them with particular clarity when we face difficult choices?"
Newt liked talking to the black cat, and not just because of his current nervousness and awkwardness.
"Perhaps it's the opposite. Death can bring wizards closer... especially those who were separated in life."
The black cat said, its whiskers twitching.
Newt smiled shyly.
Bastet looked like a student reciting an answer, but he couldn't help feeling satisfied.
There was nothing more anticipating than Bastet, who governed dreams and traversed life and death, being willing to understand a wizard's emotions.
"We're almost there, Mr. Scamander."
The black cat's emerald-like pupils possessed the ability to penetrate the mist. Amidst a dizziness of colors and haze, it spoke quietly.
"Ah..."
Hearing this, Newt hurriedly looked ahead. In the vast whiteness, a small cottage with smoke curling from its chimney suddenly appeared.
It stood by a soft, expansive coast, with Gabriel's Trumpet flowers blooming all over the embankment, both lush and thriving.
The cottage was right in the center of this field of flowers, nestled among layers of cream-yellow stamens.
A faint, crisp scent of vegetation wafted into the black cat's nose, making Newt feel a bit dazed.
Leta seemed to have just returned from a long journey; the black cat could sense she had just returned to this house.
In front of the door, Newt carefully brushed past the soft flowers, his hand reaching out to knock and then retracting.
Lying on his shoulder, the black cat watched him repeat this process continuously and subtly.
"Timid Mr. Scamander, even approaching happiness hurts him..."
The black cat whispered.
"Sorry, dear Bastet, please don't rush a mortal heart anymore."
Newt said bashfully.
Feeling awkward, the black cat jumped off Newt's shoulder, which seemed to make the timid Mr. Scamander even more nervous.
Until the black cat began to study the small door on the wooden door, until the black cat realized it was a door left for it, Newt remained motionless.
"Is there any time that makes one feel happier than when approaching happiness?"
The black cat could understand this, but their time wasn't abundant.
Guiding a soul into the Borderland was strenuous, not to mention materializing the Pensieve and the Resurrection Stone.
"I have to rush you, Mr. Scamander."
The black cat said.
It lay on a rising ball of mist and inadvertently discovered a small hole in the wooden door. Inside that small hole was a pair of bright, mischievous eyes.
"I understand."
As if with great determination, Newt knocked lightly three times.
The door creaked open.
Facing him was a face smiling like a flower. Newt froze immediately.
"The legend of the Borderland is true—the Lucky Black Cat is knocking."
Leta naturally picked up the black cat from the mist ball in front of Newt, just as they used to do.
"I didn't expect that even in death, you would still be welcomed by magical creatures."
"Please put me down."
The black cat struggled to say.
"Sorry."
Leta was startled and let the black cat hide on Newt's shoulder.
"Leta..."
The elderly Newt simply repeated the name. The appearance of his friend in front of him was exactly the same as the photo in his suitcase.
"Wait, you're not dead—"
Leta's eyes suddenly widened.
"Is it... you?"
Leta turned to the black cat.
At this moment, the black cat was sitting elegantly on Newt's shoulder and nodded humanely.
"Yes, dear Bastet brought me here."
Newt smiled bashfully.
"How is that possible..."
Leta lost her voice for a moment.
Crossing the boundary between life and death, allowing a living wizard to talk to a soul in the Borderland—there had never been such a story for dozens of centuries.
As she fell silent, snow fell rustlingly.
It fell on the Gabriel's Trumpet petals covering the ground, beside the warm smoke of the cottage, and on the hair tips of the reunited people.
Leta was horrified to realize the impropriety of her behavior. They were likely facing a magical creature with incredibly powerful magic.
Bastet, who governed war and family—could the ancient legends of wizards all be true?
"You..."
Leta first pulled Newt behind her, staring burningly at the black cat that had jumped off Newt's shoulder.
She didn't believe in luck; leaving a small door was just a request from a friend.
A wizard like her, who had never been treated kindly by fate, felt that everything in the world required a price in exchange.
She was a monster, a freak in everyone's eyes. Only monsters could rely on each other, just like her and Newt.
No, Newt deserved to be loved more than she did... Only her sins were unforgivable.
"What did you pay?"
Leta asked Newt subtly.
"Ashamedly, I gave nothing."
Newt knew Leta too well; he knew what she was worried about.
"A cat that asks for nothing in return?"
Leta was thoroughly surprised.
"Dear Bastet is exactly like that."
Newt responded bashfully.
Leta believed Newt and believed the black cat. She inevitably realized that they had reunited.
Under the magic of a black cat, they met.
Only then did such vague and moving emotions rise in her. She looked at Newt's aged face and lowered her head.
"Please come in."
She said to the black cat.
"Thank you for the invitation."
The black cat peeked into the house.
Leta thought this was a polite cat.
The rug inside reflected the firelight from the fireplace. A faint red glow appeared on the distant horizon. Outside the window was the boundless ocean of the Borderland; inside were the crackling fire, foaming butterbeer, and Newt's face, smiling slightly and avoiding eye contact.
It was snowing all over the Borderland.
Snow fell on every inch of the gloomy central plains, on the treeless hills, and softly on the lakeside marshes.
They listened to the snow falling leisurely between heaven and earth.
Leisurely, like their current destination, falling upon the living and the dead in the Borderland.
"I never fantasized about good luck."
Leta said.
"But it always comes."
Newt smiled.
The Borderland has three basic directions.
Soul, Mist, and Eternity. Here, the distance between hearts is the closest.