Since the war Newt had managed to find a great deal of success in caring for creatures in need. He had traveled the world, and found all kinds of fantastic animals, some of which were unstudied by wizard kind. He'd been given a book contract, and he had reams and reams of paper full of information. He might have left school, and found himself alone, but he had moved on, and he had done well. He had found a life for himself.

That was what he told himself when it all got too much, and he curled up in the case placed in the branches of whichever tree he was sheltering in that night. He had done well. He had found a meaningful life. He was alone. But he was alive.

It was only in his dreams that he found himself pulled back to the cell he had spent months locked in, the memory of the soft voice through the bars, the man whose name and face he could never remember thanks to the charms on their prison. The flash of green light which had robbed him of that stranger. The other side, the day when he had lost everything, was one he rarely even dreamed of. The baby that had been ripped from him, when he had been left for dead. And then the healers squeezing his shoulder, telling him that they were sorry.

He fought back tears as memories overtook him, and Pickett clambered up onto his shoulder, nuzzling against his ear. It helped.
"Hey..." He murmured sleepily to the bowtruckle. "You come to look after me have you?"
Pickett squeaked out a response, and Newt smiled up at him.
"You're good at looking after me." He murmured, and he meant every word of it. Pickett, and Dougal, and all the rest of the creatures gave him a reason to live.

Dougal chittered loudly, walking over holding an envelope. Newt paused, and reached out for it.
"Looks like we've got a new adventure!" He enthused, and the creatures that were listening seemed to celebrate. "Now, let me see, who is writing to me?"

He opened the letter and found a note inside which was written in a strange hand. He could read it, but the formation of the letters seemed different somehow. As he looked over the words, he suddenly realised why.
"We hear from the centaurs in the North of your country that you are skilled with creatures. We are faced with a problem that has killed several of our foals. If you help us, we will answer one question." After that, there was an address.

"Looks like I'm being summoned..." Newt said, then turned to his creatures. "Who fancies a trip to Spain?"
There was no response, until the niffler ran past carrying a button. This once, Newt allowed him his stolen treasure.
"My decision then..." He paused. "I've never worked with centaurs before. I say we go." Newt spent a few hours researching centaur etiquette, ensuring that he wasn't going to offend his hosts too greatly within the first hour or so of his arrival. Then he headed to the address that they had given, using portkeys to arrive within the right country, and then using a number of different methods to get to his destination.

He rented a broomstick for the last few miles, and it got him to the forest within a couple of hours. He landed perfectly, shrunk and pocketed his broom, and found himself coming face to face with an arrow. He nodded his head.
"My name is Newt Scamander, and I was summoned here. If I may reach into my pocket, I can show you proof."
The female centaur that was holding the bow nodded, and he pulled out the letter. After a moment she relaxed, sliding the stone-tipped arrow back into its quiver and looking down at him.
"Come with me."

Newt nodded, following close behind as she made her way deeper into the forest. He didn't know where he was, not with any certainty, but he allowed himself to be led. They ended up in a large clearing, where several older centaurs stood side by side. Newt bowed politely to them.
"My name is Newt Scamander, and I was summoned here."
"My name is Icarus." The oldest centaur said, as he stepped forwards. His once black coat was speckled with grey. "We heard from the centaurs of your own nation that you were a stranger amongst humans. One that might be able to assist with our problem."

"What is your problem?" Newt asked, prompting as gently and respectfully as he could.
"Our children are being attacked. There is an acromantula nest in the forest, and we have lived alongside them for years. But now several of their number are falling sick, and they are taking their revenge by killing our foals. There have been three deaths so far, and the foals have been confined to deep within our territory, but we need an end to their sickness so that they cease their attacks. Are you willing to assist us?"

"I will." Newt said quickly. "If I can."
"Then our warriors will guide you. Leona, Mattias, accompany this man into the acromantula territory, and do what you can to prevent him being eaten. He is our children's best hope." With that, the oldest centaurs turned and walked away, leaving Newt alone with the younger two who were to be his guards.

"Thank you for your assistance." He said to them, as politely as he could manage, not wanting them to feel he didn't appreciate all it was that they were doing. They didn't respond, but led him back through the trees, until he found a few strands of webbing from the nearest branches.
"We grow close." Mattias said, shifting his weight. "Do not let them see your fear."
"I'm not afraid." Newt answered honestly. He saw a shadow moving, and picked out the shape of the lead acromantula in the trees. It was a gigantic beast, one that was worthy of great respect.

He bowed down, and looked up at the creature.
"Hello. My name is Newt. I believe I may be able to help with the illness that afflicts you. I mean you no harm."

For a tense few seconds, nothing happened, and then the gigantic spider advanced a few steps towards them, and inclined her head.
"I am infected in my first left leg. If you can heal that, we will consider allowing you and your companions to leave."
"Thank you." Newt answered, and went to examine the creature. He could hear her jaws clicking and was painfully aware of just how easily this could go wrong and lead to his death.

There was some kind of fungus growing through the top joint of her leg, thin blue and white strands wrapped around each other, and as he examined the exoskeleton there he could see that it was think.
"How long has this been happening?"
"It became worse as the ice melted. That's when we were driven to ask those around us for help." The acromantula explained. Newt nodded.
"I suspect that the spores have somehow got into your burrow. Really, you need to either destroy the old burrow or burn it. That should stop new infections. For these, I believe I can formulate some ointment which might help a little, but I'm not able to give you any promises."

For a few moments, the spider didn't respond, and then she nodded.
"As you wish. You return with the ointment before tomorrow morning."

Newt considered protesting about the time constraints that were being placed upon him, but he hoped he would be able to complete the task. He climbed back into his suitcase having thanked the creatures, and one of the centaurs brought him back to the clearing. Newt worked all night, emerging in the morning with a potion that would help the acromantula recover from the illness which had stricken them. He explained the administration of the medicine, and was escorted back.

"What do you wish to ask for?" Icarus asked as he walked forwards. "Do you wish to know how to find fame, or fortune? Do you wish to know your own future? One question is all I will permit, but as a thanks for your assistance, I will answer that one."

Newt hesitated. There were two questions he wanted to know the answer to. He considered, but didn't want to risk getting sent away with neither answer.
"I lost a baby once, and the man I loved, the man I believe to be the baby's father. They are both dead now. Please, tell me where my child is buried, and if you are willing please tell me if the man...if he is near." Newt fell silent after that, waiting to hear himself condemned. He could remember the muggle mob that had pushed him down to the ground, remembered seeing metal flash, remembered his arms being broken before his tiny son was wrenched from his arms. Then the beatings had begun. When he woke up a few hours later, in a London hospital, they had told him his son hadn't made it. Newt hoped he wouldn't hear that his boy was lost again. He wanted a grave to visit, to lay flowers on. He waited in silence for their response.

Icarus had scattered pebbles across the floor, looking at how they were moving in response to Newt's question. After a few minutes in which he kept repeating the same gesture, and the pebbles ended up in the same place, Icarus looked up.
"Your son has no grave." He began, and Newt felt his heart sink.
The centaur smiled after a moment, and Newt wondered if this was a game or a cruel trick.
"After your kindness, let me repay you with some good news. Your son has no grave, because even humankind does not bury the living. And he is still amongst their number."
(AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10775682)