Burglary: (n) the felony of breaking into and entering the house of another at night with intent to steal, extended by statute to cover the breaking into and entering of any of various buildings, by night or day.
Raffles the Niffler is unhealthily fond of strawberry ice cream. She knows this because her Newt has told her so repeatedly in the last five minutes alone.
He isn't mad, though. He's too proud and happy to be mad. The old coot with the shiny eye-shields and brighly colours robes and long, long, red beard has been gone for some hours now - having left after Newt decided to order them both a third celebratory ice cream - and the night is beginning to close in on the Hogs Made village.
The old coot, Dumbledore, had joined them for the first ice cream to celebrate how Newt had passed all of his exams with flying colours - exams which someone named Dip-it had "graciously" allowed him to take despite his expulsion due to "new information coming to light" but which this Dip-it had fully been expecting him to fail. Possibly even hoping he would fail.
In the distance, Raffles could see dim points of light as a group of cloaked figures made their way, ducking and sneaking, into the rickety old shack out on the edge of the town. Raffles knew from experience that the old grouchy human who lived there had nearly nothing worthy of her den, but as the straberry ice cream cone began to slide out of her paws (though Newt was still holding it up) she could distantly see that the tarp over the box they were carrying had slid and something delightfully shiny was just visible beneath it.
Newt made a tutting sound and began to mop up her face with a handkerchief, but Raffles' eyes remained fixed on the old shack. That shiny was like no shiny she had ever seen before. She had to have it.
That night, Raffles pushed her way out of Newt's shiny new leather suitcase - which was so very pretty but would have been difficult to put in her den because her den was inside it's special compartment, just outside Newt's "workshop".
Raffles paused to pull Newt's covers up, as he had always done for her, and carefully pushed her way out the window and into the night. It felt like it took forever to get down the side of the building and she nearly lost her way twice on her journey to the hideous dull old shack.
There were lights inside and Raffles cautiously peered through a crack in the wooden walls to see what was going on inside. Grouchy-owner-man was pacing by the fire, a pile of cloaks sat on a table nearby, and three men with wands and shiny sharp sticks - knives - were toasting themselves with shiny hip-drinking alcohol (Newt had been absolutely horrified the first time she'd taken one of those home). There was a dull cage in the corner near Raffles' peephole, but there was nothing in it. Just as Raffles was about to turn away, a silvery figure appeared in the cage, looking mournfully at her. It pointed its clawed ...hand... at the pile of cloakes and something shiny dangling out of one.
Raffles gulped. Newt would have been fascinated to know that nifflers could gulp. After some consideration, Raffles squeeze carefully through the space beneath the lowest board of the wall and the ground, then scurried behind the various old chairs until she reached the pile of cloaks.
She crawled onto a chair to gain the necessary reach, only to duck out of sight when a confused man turned to scan the room with a twitchy, nervous attitude. Once he turned back to his companions, muttering about nerves and aurors, Raffles stretched and jerked the little key from the cloak. The cloaks wobbled slightly as she pulled away and scurried down the chair.
The niffler darted around the furniture to reach the cage, hiding in the shadows as best she could. Across the room the cloaks began to slide - there was no stopping them. The most alert - or twitchy - human began to turn around as the rustling noise began.
Raffles jammed the key (nothing special) into the cage's lock and the amazingly shiny creature reappeared. The first cloak hit the floor. The wizards spun around. Raffles grabbed the creature and shove it face first into her pouch. A wizard cried out. Raffles shoved herself into the hole by the floor.
"What is that?" a voice cried behind her.
Raffles wiggled free of the old shack and broke into a run. Shadows were friends to a desperate niffler, as was the impossibility of using locator charms to detect what a niffler had in their pouch, though she didn't know it.
It seemed to take no time at all for her to get back into the building Newt was sleeping in and into his room. She scratched at his face until he woke up. He stared at her in confusion, then at the silvery hairs poking out of her pouch. Her human, her sweet daft human, rushed to the window to see cloaked men in the distance, following her footprints. He pushed her into his case, muttered something about being glad he'd paid for his room already, and fled through the fire (even in the case Raffles could tell when they travelled by fire) back to his family's home.
After a long time and much clattering, he opened the case - reavealing to her his, or really: their, normal bedroom - and put her on the bed. "What have you done this time?" he asked, in incredulous exasperation.
Carefully, Raffles pulled the scared shiny creature out of her pouch and offered it to her human.
Newt blinked. "A demiguise?" he asked. Then he took a closer look at the little creature and the wounds it carried (Raffles worried for a moment that it might have bled inside her pouch).
Finally, the human held the demiguise close and smiled at the niffler. "I'm proud of you," he said.
**** A/N: I will finish this tomorrow. But right now it's midnight and I keep slipping from present tense into past. :/ ~Theta
Fill: The Purloined Pouch (3/6)
Raffles the Niffler is unhealthily fond of strawberry ice cream. She knows this because her Newt has told her so repeatedly in the last five minutes alone.
He isn't mad, though. He's too proud and happy to be mad. The old coot with the shiny eye-shields and brighly colours robes and long, long, red beard has been gone for some hours now - having left after Newt decided to order them both a third celebratory ice cream - and the night is beginning to close in on the Hogs Made village.
The old coot, Dumbledore, had joined them for the first ice cream to celebrate how Newt had passed all of his exams with flying colours - exams which someone named Dip-it had "graciously" allowed him to take despite his expulsion due to "new information coming to light" but which this Dip-it had fully been expecting him to fail. Possibly even hoping he would fail.
In the distance, Raffles could see dim points of light as a group of cloaked figures made their way, ducking and sneaking, into the rickety old shack out on the edge of the town. Raffles knew from experience that the old grouchy human who lived there had nearly nothing worthy of her den, but as the straberry ice cream cone began to slide out of her paws (though Newt was still holding it up) she could distantly see that the tarp over the box they were carrying had slid and something delightfully shiny was just visible beneath it.
Newt made a tutting sound and began to mop up her face with a handkerchief, but Raffles' eyes remained fixed on the old shack. That shiny was like no shiny she had ever seen before. She had to have it.
That night, Raffles pushed her way out of Newt's shiny new leather suitcase - which was so very pretty but would have been difficult to put in her den because her den was inside it's special compartment, just outside Newt's "workshop".
Raffles paused to pull Newt's covers up, as he had always done for her, and carefully pushed her way out the window and into the night. It felt like it took forever to get down the side of the building and she nearly lost her way twice on her journey to the hideous dull old shack.
There were lights inside and Raffles cautiously peered through a crack in the wooden walls to see what was going on inside. Grouchy-owner-man was pacing by the fire, a pile of cloaks sat on a table nearby, and three men with wands and shiny sharp sticks - knives - were toasting themselves with shiny hip-drinking alcohol (Newt had been absolutely horrified the first time she'd taken one of those home). There was a dull cage in the corner near Raffles' peephole, but there was nothing in it. Just as Raffles was about to turn away, a silvery figure appeared in the cage, looking mournfully at her. It pointed its clawed ...hand... at the pile of cloakes and something shiny dangling out of one.
Raffles gulped. Newt would have been fascinated to know that nifflers could gulp. After some consideration, Raffles squeeze carefully through the space beneath the lowest board of the wall and the ground, then scurried behind the various old chairs until she reached the pile of cloaks.
She crawled onto a chair to gain the necessary reach, only to duck out of sight when a confused man turned to scan the room with a twitchy, nervous attitude. Once he turned back to his companions, muttering about nerves and aurors, Raffles stretched and jerked the little key from the cloak. The cloaks wobbled slightly as she pulled away and scurried down the chair.
The niffler darted around the furniture to reach the cage, hiding in the shadows as best she could. Across the room the cloaks began to slide - there was no stopping them. The most alert - or twitchy - human began to turn around as the rustling noise began.
Raffles jammed the key (nothing special) into the cage's lock and the amazingly shiny creature reappeared. The first cloak hit the floor. The wizards spun around. Raffles grabbed the creature and shove it face first into her pouch. A wizard cried out. Raffles shoved herself into the hole by the floor.
"What is that?" a voice cried behind her.
Raffles wiggled free of the old shack and broke into a run. Shadows were friends to a desperate niffler, as was the impossibility of using locator charms to detect what a niffler had in their pouch, though she didn't know it.
It seemed to take no time at all for her to get back into the building Newt was sleeping in and into his room. She scratched at his face until he woke up. He stared at her in confusion, then at the silvery hairs poking out of her pouch. Her human, her sweet daft human, rushed to the window to see cloaked men in the distance, following her footprints. He pushed her into his case, muttered something about being glad he'd paid for his room already, and fled through the fire (even in the case Raffles could tell when they travelled by fire) back to his family's home.
After a long time and much clattering, he opened the case - reavealing to her his, or really: their, normal bedroom - and put her on the bed. "What have you done this time?" he asked, in incredulous exasperation.
Carefully, Raffles pulled the scared shiny creature out of her pouch and offered it to her human.
Newt blinked. "A demiguise?" he asked. Then he took a closer look at the little creature and the wounds it carried (Raffles worried for a moment that it might have bled inside her pouch).
Finally, the human held the demiguise close and smiled at the niffler. "I'm proud of you," he said.
****
A/N: I will finish this tomorrow. But right now it's midnight and I keep slipping from present tense into past. :/ ~Theta